04 10 / 2014
04 10 / 2014
It’s amazing how fast your mood can change after you step in some water with socks on.
02 10 / 2014
"I find it (Tony abbott and his views on the burqa and most other things) to be irrelevant, xenophobic and wrong. Frankly I wish it (his opinions or Tony Abbott himself as a person) were not seen or heard in public."
- Me and a whole bunch of other people
02 10 / 2014
01 10 / 2014
For a long time -at this blog’s conception- I maintained a distance from my followers. I was young, insecure, and felt distant from my real life. I wanted this blog to be separate from me. I was ashamed of its contents. I was ashamed of the weakness I perceived in my writing. I have, however, grown since its conception and has decided to consolidate all of my social media accounts. I have a colorful internet trail. I have posted sexist/racist/homophobic/ableist/bigoted/discriminatory comments on a lot of different forums. It was wrong of me. I subscribed to the idea that if I want to win an argument I had to be the ‘loudest’. Let me take this chance to apologise for that. Moving forward, I want to cultivate a more socially responsible self. And part of that is reclaiming this blog. It has always been a diary for me. A place -albeit public- for me to write down my thoughts and not have my friends or family read it. It seemed the safest place at the time. The most obvious hiding spot. So enough hiding. Let’s crack open the doorway and ride the tsunami out.
01 10 / 2014
The greatest revenge is life. Life is a stream. It flows in the cracks between boulders. Life doesn’t forget. And it will not let you forget. You can bury all of yourself under a mountain of lies but eventually, life will expose every crag, every line on your body. You can justify yourself. You can pretend that you are someone else but everyone else will see you for who you are. It’s only a matter of time. And your sands are almost at an end.
06 12 / 2013
Kujira called me the other day. We haven’t spoken in awhile. It wasn’t that he chose to go to Melbourne instead of coming to my birthday – or the hidden hope that he was actually trying to surprise me like Arunuldu said he was- it was the fact that he tried to justify his actions to my sister by telling her all the things that he had done for me in the past, like none of the things I did for him were relevant, that hurt. It didn’t matter that I fought my mum to see him every time I came down to Sydney. Or that I defended him on multiple occasions under the assumption that he would do the same thing for me.
He called me to tell me that he was coming to Brisbane in two weeks. He asked if Mister Marvel had mentioned it. I said yes. He asked if I was working. I said yes. He asked if there was anything new in my life. I said no. This is a story of how, by punishing my best friend for his transgression, I punished myself instead.
Kujira was my confidante. I told him things I couldn’t tell my sister – and only begrudgingly tell Mister Marvel. He was, up to his betrayal, the best friend that a human being could have never imagined. And I say betrayal, because of anyone in this planet, he is, or was, the one person who knew my tragic obsession with loyalty and my intense fear of abandonment. He doesn’t see it that way, either through guilt or a lack of understanding, preferring instead to attribute my anger to an irrelevant party. It’s not even that he doesn’t understand. It’s that he tries to justify his actions.
He asked me if there was a way he could make it up to me. No, I said. There is no way that he can rebuild my trust. I know that I said this when my sister and I had our three year separation but it’s true that until this day, I don’t fully trust her. The difference is that my sister understands. She knows because, without my having to tell her, she felt the hurt and betrayal. She knows because, without my telling her, she understood the loneliness I felt when I turned my back on her.
Because isn’t that what this is really about? Loneliness. It’s such a terrifying word and an even more terrifying concept. The fear that no matter how much you dedicate yourself to the people around you: friends, lovers or family, they do not feel the same.
I don’t even know if he feels the same way. It seems as if he has moved on, as if our friendship was a slip of paper that he misplaced on a windy day, and the futility of chasing after it is too great for him to endeavour. I would like to think that I have learnt something from all this, a motivating message to weather me through life, but I haven’t. I miss him. There is no but. There never was. He was, and continues to be, a great friend, just not to me.
But I remind myself to be grateful of what I do have everyday. I have Mister Marvel, whose affections for me fluctuates based on the season, who allows me to be myself and to love myself and to treat myself kindly so that I may do the same for others. I have my sisters, the only people in this world who understand my motivations. I have my mum who loves me through the disappointments that I heap upon her. I have my dad and Rage who have been my biggest supporters in my quest to be eternally unemployed. And, to an extent, I have Foo who is the one constant in my life: acquaintances may ebb and flow; lovers may lay and flee, and memories may fade, but Foo is always there with a well-placed anecdote for inadvertent but, much needed advice.
Thank you Kujira, for all that you’ve done and all that we’ve shared. I wish you the best in your endeavours. I only wish that our time together had been longer but it’s for the best. You and I are too lazy, too full of excuses, and, in the end, we weren’t brave enough. I wasn’t brave enough to fight for our friendship and you weren’t brave enough to fight for me.
20 11 / 2013
"When I say, “I love you,” it’s not because I want you or because I can’t have you. It has nothing to do with me. I love what you are, what you do, how you try. I’ve seen your kindness and your strength. I’ve seen the best and the worst of you. And I understand with perfect clarity exactly what you are."
18 7 / 2013
I said that I would finish my novel before I turned 27. I finished the first chapter and handed it in for an assignment. I got 27/50.
So I haven’t written anything more because it’s so fcking depressing.
Then I had an epiphany.
Why am I handing in an unedited chapter for an assignment?
I literally don’t understand why I felt like I failed when I haven’t actually attempted anything.
See this is what happens when you feel like you’re entitled to things. The universe turns around and shows you that you’re just a speck. You have no right to feel the way you do.
So now I have 2 months to finish my novel. GODDAMN YOU UNIVERSE! (I wish I had a Vader suit when I said that.)
10 7 / 2013
03 7 / 2013
Here’s a writing tip. Don’t insult your audience with empty writing disguised as something profound.
Here are two articles that are better than this article by Rolling Stones about Miley Cyrus’s video for ‘We Can’t Stop’:
By Sasha Hecht