The flavour to savour

When you eat your favourtite food it always seems a little unfortunate that the last taste is tainted with a goodbye. Maybe the frist taste is better, and then it goes on to get less and less satisfying the more you eat. This usually happens with everything-bar toasted foccacia and kalamata marinated mixed stuffed olives-. (specific)

I am embarassed to admit that whilst writing this I had in mind eating eating a bag of cheeseballs. Delicious at first, but the more you eat the more your fingers become stained orange.
OLD HABITS DIE HARD.

The heart of life

Sometimes life can be as simple and complicated as the heart of it all. No matter how many labels, words, and explanations, there some things we will never quite grasp. It can be as intricate and scientific as it looks, or it can be as simple as staying alive.

Jiminy Cricket

I've cashed in on too many advantages.
I've listened to Jiminy Cricket when it suits.
I've wasted $80 to get somewhere 5 minutes faster.
I've procrastinated too much.
I've tried to change those who shant.
I've yelled at my parents when it is them who are there night after night.
I've made excuses to justify the inexcusable.
I've wasted my money on too much shit (but tantalising) American food.
I've become too good at being impulsive.
I've said too much hastily.
I've been too stubborn.
I've preached what I haven't always practised.
I've been vexed inasmuch of not being a better person.
So this is the last time will have to write of this because I wont do it no more.

Errr, money on the shit (but tantalising) American food might slip. But I think I can deal.

Noises

I don't think time makes you know someone.
I don't think that a ring rectifies things.
I never want to know everything.
Discovery was meant to be a wonder.
I think that sometimes the truth is too frightening.
Sometimes things are complicated.
Situations can be so sad.
Emotions have the ability to provide a longer slower death than anything physical.
Sometimes putting the headphones in is better than hearing.

The eye of the beholder.

When the world keeps spinning, and you think about how it does; scientifically, metaphorically, personally, how do you comprehend it all? What do we chose to comprehend and how? I often wonder why I think what I do. And then find myself thinking about what I think about. Bewildering.
Why is it certain things that touch you and others that get looked past or not looked at at all.
Do we look at things with a cynic's fate or a dreamer's destiny?
Or do we not look that far, scared of what we might realise? Worried that if we see it now chance might not play its role. Like writing on a keyboard and even when you backspace you still remember what you saw.
And in life not all actions have a reaction. Because both unlike and like science, there are too many catalysts that speed things up. And there are too many reactions that find themselves deterred.
Some things come, others go. Some things forgotten, others not.
In the beauty of something a portion of the credit always belongs to the eyes that it is being seen through.

The sleep, perchance to dream.

Sleep is not wasted when one has the ability to dream.

Mind if I smoke? Care if I die?

How can a lithe piece of paper filled with tobacco be so fatally attractive in the eyes of some?

What's good company when someone is better friends with the cigarette?
Needing their company every five minutes rather than yours.

Does one not realise that as they joviantly laugh at the grotesque picture on the pack, that picture is nonchalantly becoming their reality?

Riddle me why it is not self indulgent to be paying to kill yourself slowly but surely?

And 50 years on, the tobacco stained skin, the husky voice and the lined face don't quit when you do.

But behind the anger it evokes, the naivety it exposes, the scars it leaves, maybe, just maybe one day, you will see why it hurts more than anything else. You will see when one of the people you love the most gets lung cancer 30 years after he has quit. But his 40 years of not having quit came back to haunt him. Because unfortunately it put up the unbeatable battle. And just when you think you've won you find that 5 years on he dies because his lungs are too scarred to keep working.

And now, maybe now, you can begin to fathom why it is the hurt that outweighs all the rest.
And that now the rest means rest in peace.
And the good bye you used to say to him, you instead have to say to his coffin.

I miss you Grandad.

We pass this way but once.

May your kind smile be the one to linger with us till our last days.
May you let us see the world through your twinkling hazel eyes.
May the love you held for us give us strength through these trying times.
May your creased skin still hold all the memories even now that you're gone.
May your kind voice echo in our thoughts when it is you whom we think of.
May it be your face that lights up the night sky if we cannot now have you in our days.

All I know is the sun is shining.

Writing an essay is a little bit like the a cloudy day.
If you think about it, the sun never actually goes out. Someone, somewhere, in the world always has it. And even when it is cloudy, above the clouds is the sun, smiling down with its big cherry face giving you the answers. The clouds are merely the procrastination one utilises to avoid doing the essay, the procrastination that tells you there isn't the information up there to do it, to get on with it. To nail that shit. To A+ the mother fucker.

But the clouds always clear at some point and even if there are only those few rays of sunshine pounding down on the pavement it's enough to make the start.

Have a sun shiney day, not a cloudy one.

I like this word.

I got that idiosyncrasy.

I don't.

Modelling bridal wear. Makes you think.
Is a wedding really just the same as a runway show? You have a straight line to walk, an audience to impress, and a nervous smile that shakes.
Do the people watching you realise a wedding is the start of a marriage or just a day to look pretty and sip Moet?
Does anybody really remember that a marriage isn't a transaction, signed sealed and delivered by a wedding?
Does all romance go out the window?
Are we just a society who like the look but don't care for the work?

I can't help but think, as I am painted with pink lips, taught how to hold a boquet appropriately, plastered with hairspray, and told I am not smiling enough as I totter down the runway, even in the love drenched audience watching me, that perhaps they are more in love with the dress. Or the ring. The cake, or the car. The honeymoon, or whatever sparkles.

14 definites. 1 wonder.

I've learned that, being yourself is only not enough for those who don't love you.
I've learned that, though I have green eyes I am not a green eyed monster.
I've learned that, without trust a world doesn't spin.
I've learned that, everybody has insecurities. It is not wise to play on them.
I've learned that, people who take your confidence as arrogance never knew you enough.
I've learned that, if you are a black sheep you shouldn't worry about not following the white flock.
I've learned that, at least if others are talking about you, then one less person has to suffer the cruelty of their words.
I've learned that, if it's raining your hair is going to go curly, which was more interesting than straight anyway.
I've learned that, peoples' reactions aren't a reflection of you, rather themselves.
I've learned that, just as one door closes, another opens. But something may keep the one behind you slightly ajar.
I've learned that, those who don't believe in love haven't yet felt.
I've learned that, there is something about needs. Sometimes when you get them met, you don't need them anymore.
I've learned that, every dog has his day.
I've learned that, there is always the exception to the rule. I live by this.
I've learned that, some things never need to be questioned and the day you start may be the day you lose.
I've learned that, when relationships end, cynicism is an easy camping ground. But not a necessary stop.
I've learned that, destroying the evidence doesn't have a hope in hell of fading the memories.
But i've wondered; if you have mastered the forgiveness and not the forgetness can you ever truly forgive?

Hannah.

Thinking of you.
The smile that lit up the world, could turn even the saddest face from blue.
The little purple bow,
traveled all the way to India you'll be happy to know.
Told it's story to many about the fragility of life,
but how to live it in the most passionate light.
To be true to yourself you taught me so well,
because if you don't, no one else shall.
Indebted with thanks I am to you, for you showed me how to walk a mile in someone elses shoes.
To light up a room, to a grin from a gloom.
To live each day as it might be the last, to not waste the time that will soon be the past.
You are where the poppies lie,
writing your purple across the sky.

What about do's?

To the woman taking our tutorial.
It was like being back in school again! I didn't know whether to hate it or love it.
"Would you like to share the joke?"
"Uhhh it wasn't really a joke..."
"Good then be quiet and LISTEN TO ME."
Then there was silence. Then giggles in my head, for I was too afraid of this little leprachaun woman to possibly make them physically heard.
So most of what we got for the hour was "don'ts." Positive Priscilla she was feeling today. My, I would not want to upset her, not with the likes of grammatical errors, non Harvard style citing, nor over use of commas. Guilty as charged.
What did we take out of that tut?
A gazillion donts.
But hang on, no wait.
What do we do?

(p.s both of those 'do's' would have been italicized if I could figure out just how to do it. So you should just imagne they are when you read it for extra effect. PLUS this was also a good excuse to use my on going obsession with brackets.)

This IS also the 6th time I have to edit this in order for it to make sense. OCD much? Jesus. (Christ Superstar!)