underneath the sycamore

People always complain that love hurts. I can imagine that falling in love might hurt, because anything which involves falling would generally induce some form of pain. But love is great. Or I at least assume so, because it's what we all strive for in one way or another, isn't it? Love doesn't hurt. Disappointment hurts. Expectations not being met hurts. Lack of trust hurts, and shitheads disguising themselves as princes certainly hurts.

But so much of the time, it isn't even these things which causes the greatest amount of pain. It's the bruised ego, the "Oh fuck, well that trumps all of the stupid things I've heard and believed through the years", it's the humiliation that makes you bury yourself under layers of quilts and mull over all the good reason that flew out the window once you heard "Yes".

You then convince yourself that it's not love, it never was, you're too young to understand love, people can go through life without ever experiencing it. But in reality, it's whatever you wish for it to be. Some people look at green and see blue. To me, they're stupid, but maybe they really do see blue. And unless I have the ability to swap eyeballs, then it is what it is. (NB: It happens with blue and purple, too.) So the denial is only a result of the process of losing what you thought you had ... Or didn't have. At least I know my love for fries will never fade.

To get you all through the rest of the week!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YGth7aSd0EM

walk my way

A long period of special inquiry is required to arrive even at a valid hypothesis. This does not stop the amateur psychologizers. Armed with a smattering not of knowledge, but of undigested slogans, they rush, unsolicited, to diagnose the problems of their friends and acquaintances. Pretentiousness and presumptuousness are the psychologizers invariable characteristics: he not merely invades the privacy of his victims’ minds, he claims to understand their minds better than they do, to know more than they do about their own motives … The harm he does to his victims is incalculable. People who have psychological problems are confused and suggestible; unable to understand their own inner state, they often feel that any explanation is better than none.

- Ayn Rand

missing: baby hat

I should have mentioned these during the evaluation today! Happy times before my hormones turned me into the angry midget I appear to be. I really do like you, promise ...




You amaze me

cosmic love

Things that I am incapable of:

- Maintaining consistency
- Blowing my nose with one hand
- Tolerating stupidity ("Afghanistan seems like they always have wars going on hehe" toolbox in my class at uni, you know who I'm talking about)
- Leaving people alone (ie. pushing them like a button, beeping like a reversing truck)
- Finishing a meal without feeling like a freshly rolled sleeping bag
- Steaming silky coffee milk

Things that infinitely frustrate me:

- Inconsistency
- Lack of personal space
- Ragged cuticles
- Not being able to recall where I've previously seen TV extras
- Crooked frames that I'm unable to straighten in public areas for fear that the staff will accuse me of attempting to steal

I'd forgotten about this photo! I haven't used this word in a long time, but I really do look spastic.

let's go home

Everyone on earth has a treasure that awaits him. We, people's hearts, seldom say much about those treasures, because people no longer want to go in search of them. We speak of them only to children. Later, we simply let life proceed, in its own direction, toward its own fate. But, unfortunately, very few follow the path laid out for them - the path to their Personal Legends, and to happiness.

If good things are coming, they will be a pleasant surprise. If bad things are, and you know in advance, you will suffer greatly before they even occur ... The fear of suffering is worse than the suffering itself.

- The Alchemist Paul Coelho

The burden of tomorrow and the pain of yesterday ensures that the present will never be treated the way it should be. When you're consumed in a moment, caught in the melody of a song or the beauty of an amazing landscape, you're never happier than you are at that point in time. It feels like for a minute or so, your mind is free with clarity, which some people achieve through meditation but which always leads my mind along the path of "Black; with my eyes closed all I see is black; some call it a colour but some people define it as a tone; now I'm thinking of rainbows, except the violet stripe doesn't really exist" and you can imagine how it goes on. But this is how it plays out every single time, as predictable and Turkish delight and Belgian dark chocolate.

What's in the box?

Dance dance dance

Also, words fail to express how AMAZING this is. And because I'm not a heartless person who steals, kudos to Jess Loves Fred!

www.youtube.com/watch?v=EyARHscb8mU&feature=player_embedded

Ponyfish

So apparently I give into the head tilt despite being shot by a photographer with 20+ years of professional experience. This little outing actually made me realise what awfully tense mouth muscles I have. Is my discomfort captured accurately enough? This trip was shorter than my bus ride to uni on Monday which took 75 minutes ...

Featuring the person who more or less got me to where I am today!






I love puffed oats. Like, a lot. I bet there's a Facebook Appreciation Group dedicated to them. There should be some sort of milk substitute that keeps your cereal crunchy. I have faith that scientists will work it out in the next 5 years or so. Until, for me, breakfast becomes JUST RIGHT.

two tales

When I die, I want to have subconsciously shared so much of myself with someone that they'd be able to write a book about what I was like, what my face became when I felt bored or disgusted or over the moon. I want someone to know all the ins and outs, how my face always found the crevice where the arm met the back of the couch when I napped, how I would get up in the middle of the night despite the cold if I could hear the shower dripping, how I preferred to sit facing the back on trains, how I hated my iPod to be set to shuffle. I don't know whether or not people memorise the details of those around them. It's what separates reality from fiction. Narrators in stories cannot get enough all that signifies less than nothing, and yet in reality when people die, those left behind kick themselves for not remembering their last hug, last kiss, last laugh. I want someone to look back and remember the things I did which made them want to flick me off the face of the Earth out of utter irritation, and the things I said which made them feel the way nobody ever could and ever would.

"It's not Mak Mak"

Monica: "What if I was still fat? You wouldn't be dating me, that's for sure."
Chandler: "Sure I would."
Everyone: "Oh, yeah, right. Really...."
Chandler: "What? You guys really think I'm that shallow?"
Ross: "No, I just think Monica was that fat."