Hello blogspot, 2 years on.
I'm here because I have an inkling that Luke's birthday would have been either June the 23rd of July the 23rd (both could be wrong, quite possible) and I want to know. I couldn't seem to find it on facebook or anywhere - and obituaries apparently get deleted pretty soon after they're sent out, though I don't think it would have been on there either. If I were at home maybe I could look at the funeral pamphlet thingy they give out. It would be on there.
The extra significance would be, though, that it was just after his birthday that I last saw him. Maybe a couple of weeks after, last year. Just randomly passing on the street. And I wanted to say happy birthday. I wanted to let him know that he hadn't been nothing to me. That I had remembered this small almost insignificant thing. But I was too scared. And I can't remember it anymore. I wonder if it would have meant anything to him.
It was a strange day. Me and my boyfriend were locked out of my house - I had dropped the key. And he was tired or sick, so I left him waiting, almost sleeping on the step, and went to find the key in the gully we had been exploring. I was cycling and there, walking along laughing like they always did, was Luke and Terry. And I almost froze - what should I do? We were crossing paths. The first time we had seen each other in over a year. And we hadn't exactly parted on good terms. I felt guilty, remembering my boyfriend waiting for me. I felt guilty to them both. And why? Because I happened to pass Luke on the street? Because I happened to have found a new love? It had taken me long enough. And even then I'm sure I wasn't over him. I was poised to flee. And what did he do? Their conversation paused as they neared me. But he just said hello and gave a slight wave, a slight smile. Bewildered, really not expecting this at all, I waved and gave a small hello back. I was shell shocked. It's okay? Everything is okay between us? Really? He's passed it all? Has he forgiven me?
And I wanted to say happy birthday. But I had passed him. And in searching for my key I happened to sort of follow them across a park, from a distance, and I felt I could just speed a little and catch up - and catch up, see how he was going, what he'd been up to. See how he had changed. And I kept my distance. Hoping they didn't think I was following them. But where were they going?
And I found the key in the gully. And I sat and I let my tears out. It had been a hard time, I was left with more than a few scars, as was he, and now it had passed? Shock, shock, shock. Bewilderment.
And then, a few months later, on November the 29th 2012, he disappears to Neverland.
Goodbye Luke. Rest In Peace.
And, during the struggle of coming to terms with your death - though you were no longer in my life somehow you had left it? It makes no sense to me. - I came to know Bradley. And the most strange thing of all, to me so strange, is that his birthday happens to be the day of your death. Except, of course, many years before.
Consequence? No meaning there? I knew it, as I came to know him, perhaps on our third encounter, I knew of this consequence - but I thought nothing of it. And now it looms in my mind, a piece of knowledge that just seems all too bizarre to be pure consequence. And, if you read 'The Celestine Prophecy' you'll know that consequences don't have to be meaningless. But it seems so odd that the guy I want to stay with, I can see myself having a future with, happens to have entered this world on the day that you left.Or perhaps it's the other way around. You happened to leave on the day he had entered.
I kept thinking things were signs from you, somehow your invention, your design, that you were there trying to look out for me, trying to send me messages, somehow more peaceful, somehow happy. And, as I drove back from Auckland one day, a truck stopped beside us, some advertising slogan on its side - but all I could see through my window was "you deserve the best". I grinned. And the truck moved on, revealing that the slogan was for a courier company - which made me grin more. 'The message was delivered to me by courier.' Perhaps I do. Don't we all? I need to stop feeling guilty somehow. I've found the life I want to live. I should be soo happy - and mostly I am, don't get that wrong.
When was he born? I want to celebrate it somehow. Raise my glass to the world for letting me know this guy, just for a moment. I may have missed it. I wonder if it matters which day it's on? Perhaps I'll just decide that on this or that particular day I'll celebrate, it needn't be the day.
Ah. Life is fraught with difficulty, with scars from the past, and with joys which we may forget to enjoy. Sometimes there are too many emotions and I can't figure it all out. Sometimes life is perfect - and that, that is enlightenment. I don't think this will all just pass in an instant. I think it's a slow process. Isn't everything, when you focus upon each second?

DECEMBER!!

Mwahahaha! I have so far written at least one blog a month since I started this-- I think. Maybe I got that wrong, I'm not so good with months. I often think that August is actually November (or at least that the order is October August or that September doesn't exist).
And so, this is my December post, to continue on the tradition. Perhaps there will be two December posts, or more. Who knows? I may go completely blog mad and write a hundred- but that will be determined at a later date. Right now, I will ensure there is no risk of not having a December post by making one. And this is it! Wow, isn't it the best ever December post that I've ever written (so far in my life)? There is no need to point out that I havn't ever had a December post before as my blog started in May. Absolutely none. And if you do, I will travel to your house (where ever that may be, Africa, Iceland, I will be there) and personally slap you. HA! Won't say it now, will you?!
Alright, moving on. All my family is watching Harry Potter. Most of 'em anyhow, as they came down for christmas. Have you noticed that Harry Potter is played every year (all of the movies one night after the other, in order) at the same time, just after christmas. Are we all Harry obsessed? This is like THE movie that everyone knows. I think if we had one national movie- like a national anthem- it would be Harry Potter. Even though its not a New Zealand movie, its just that everyones seen it. Honestly, if there is someone that hasn't watched Harry Potter, everyone will be incredulous- it's even worse than not owning a television (and believe you me that is met with utter disbelief). I wonder if everyone in the ENTIRE world has seen it. Discluding perhaps those that are rather not well off (wow that's almost politically correct).
Actually, if we truly did have a national movie it would probably have to be NZ and therefore something like The Whale Rider or Boy.
Christmas is being politically corrected in America, apparently. They (who ever 'they' are, they truly owe a lot, I mean 'they' were responsible for my house being robbed and all the presents being taken on christmas eve) have decided that christmas is disrespectful to other minority religions. So 'they' are slowly changing everything- christmas trees are now called 'holiday' trees, christmas cards 'seasonal' cards or 'holiday greetings', and so on, and christmas will become something truly strage like 'The Holiday', all capitalised for importance but with no reference to anything at all.
The minority leaders said that they don't really care what christmas trees are called and so forth, but its happening all the same. Stupid overly correct 'they'. Extremists.
December blog good enough for you? I think so. Goodnight :D

Peppermint tea

I made myself a cup of peppermint tea and proceeded to slowly walk up the stairs, balancing the cup so that nothing sloshed over the edges. This is different to my usual scrambling run which often ends in me crawling, having tripped halfway. I finally made it upstairs and sat down at my desk, placing my delicious cup in front of me. I turned on my computer, all settled and ready to finish my biology report (and start it too), just as a call came from downstairs; "MACAILA!!" Sighing, I left to answer the offending call.

It turns out it's not a good idea to forget that you have a very old, practically antique computer. Especially if, every time you turn it on, the cd drive opens, a bit like it's sticking its tongue out at you (which prompted me to draw a pair of large cartoon eyes and set it as my desktop background). And if you happened to place your peppermint filled teacup exactly where it needed to be put in order to be knocked over by said computers tongue. Not a good idea.

So I reappeared moments later, after attending to The Mother, and there was peppermint tea all over my desk, dribbling down the walls, and even soaked into the carpet. Not good. But, as it turns out, not especially bad. For, having cleaned up the sticky spillage (you can not tell me that peppermint tea is good without the honey. You're insane. It needs that sweetness to balance the tang), I now have a deliciously peppermint smelling room, and I rid myself of a nest of dust and spiders that was hidden under my desk.

Now I will carry on with my report, this blog has taken long enough to distract me. Naughty peoples you, not cool.

This was written on several different occasions and doesn't particularly mean ANYTHING! Read it your own peril.

I was in a strange mood, my last post, probably due to the sickness which spread through my veins, slowly the little viruses (virusi?) breaking into my cells and laying their young inside them, which grow and rip them apart, ready to spread more infection throughout my weak and frail frame.


*coughs* so,... back on task... *ahem* where was I?


Right, okay. Moving on now.


I read the comments on my blog and I find myself searching for the like button on them. Ive been facebook-enized!!! Curses! Facebook is taking over! I think there is one of those lil 'like this on facebook' buttons after the posts on peoples blogs though. I wonder if its disable-able.
Luke is deleting his facebook account! *gasp* Shock, horror! It takes two weeks though, and you musn't log on or check e-mails from them in that time. Or they re activate it. They live in hope, they do. Knowing how its roots inbed themselves deep into our brain, sucking away our thought so that anything faintly amusing that we see becomes "wow! Lets put THAT on facebook!" He wrote a really super mega awesome choclately fudge coated facebook suicide note for it! I was worried when he told me, not realising that it was his facebook suiciding, not him. "I'm dieing here" ahh!!


I just went for a walk through the *ahem* forest (more like a gully) at the back of boys high school. It was very awesome. Slippery and wet, so very muddy. My yellow shoes were contaminated. Will they ever recover?!



Hmm I'm just searching for things to say in this. I keep leaving it as a draft then coming back. I need inspiration! Something to make this all the better, and seemingly finished.



Why are we meant to capitalise our 'I' s?? It's like saying; "I'm superior! I'm so super important that I get a capital I" I bet it was some stupid over indulgent self obsessed man who first started that trend. Of course it was a man, don't be silly, how could it be other wise?! Only men are that shallow and selfish. Only men would think of capitalising the letter 'I' in order to make themselves more important and superior.

Women on the other hand. Women are nasty vile creatures who scratch out peoples hearts and over dramatise everything, just for fun. If I had it my way, I would be neither. Definitely not both, just neither. I shiver with disgust as I realise I belong to that group, those evil creatures.

... I looked it up, the capitalised 'I' thingy :D
It's still a stupid reason though. Originally it was believed that 'I' looked better than 'i', and soon it just became common practice. When the English language had all its rules written out --so that nothing could be any different from anything else, even letters are uniform. It's grilled into us 'conform to the rules of the universe, conform to the ideas the world holds, conform to the grammer rules and use them daily so that you are just like everybody else'. Man, individuality gets squished.-- the capitalised 'I' was chosen.
For the love of appearance. It's a fine thing, appearance, looks, the precious coating of flavour for the eyes. For our 'I's. The sweet aroma for our mind.

Hmm, I do pronounce this blog post too long already! Plus, I realised that I have posted one blog each month since I started. And that, my friend, is totally cool. I'ma try and keep that up. But now that I've written that, I feel obliged, trapped into doing it. Grr. DELETE! (If I actually delete it, its as good as not having happened. So I must not delete it.)
I just watched a movie, it included this philosophical question, posted for you:
If you put a cat in a box with a machine that pumps out gas at random different intervals- but you don't know when, and thus you don't know whether or not the cat is dead or alive unless you look into the box- is the cat dead, alive, both simultaneously, or neither?
The scientist concluded both. I think the scientist should have made it slightly more interesting by increasing the potency of the gas so that if he opened the box at the wrong time he, too, would get gassed. He would save a lot of cats that way. Flirt with death at the same time as killing the creatures that wanted no part in it in the first place- probably. Hes gay.
Actually its the same question; if a tree falls in the forest but noone sees, has it still fallen?
If someone murders someone else, but noone notices, are they still dead?
Of course they are you idiot! You just won't know till you go looking. Not knowing and it not having occured are two different things. Although to your mind they are kind of similar.

Tiredness

I'm tired :D that is why that is the title of this blog. Truly not a creative title, but a title nonetheless, and i can't quite be stuffed having a creative title.

Everything seems kind of fake when im tired. Probably for you too, when you're in the same such condition of the body and mind. Its like theres a haze over everything, and nothing you say or do is truly happening. Its almost a dream. The living dream of wakefulness. Not that that meant anything at all. Just that reality seems distorted. And sleep, being the state of desire at such times as these, seems the only escape from the fraudulant world, full of phoneys and annoyance. Yet I can't bring myself to close my eyes. Because then time is going by. Time is slipping, valuable time. Time that could be spent doing something else. Probably something useless, but something fun nonetheless.

Although right now im just internetting it, and that is not really fun (although blogging is, mostly) and definitely a waste of time, i do think. Facebook: networking, im building on my relationships? Pah, excuses. I should sleep. Become lost in that land of dark and, well, confusion really. Kind of buffered confusion though. Soft and cuddly. The sort you really like to get to know.

And the tiredness creeps and lurks in my bones. Making the most menial task home, because I don't have to think to do it, it's just routine. And then I'd rather do that than get up, even to go to bed. Why is it that sleep seems to be the last thing I want to do when I'm tired? Almost like i can't be bothered doing even that? Zombified, but not quite gone. Not quite out to the world. Not quite overtaken by the shadow of otherly conscious, otherly place that is. Inside the head, inside, where the worries run deep. Dreams show us our inner disturbances, our inner desires, all of our unknown self is revealed. If we dare watch, listen. If we dare interpret such as our darkest fears, should the fear become realised, it may become heightened. I don't know. It's a theory. One I like to entertain.

Photos are unbearable. Just to change the subject. Don't you think? They show the happiness, the fun of the old times. Yet none of it is true. The photos are fake, they lie. They are glorifying the times gone past. The times that are no longer within our grasp. And its unbearable. Because theyre gone. And you can't get them back. But they weren't as good as they seem in the photo, surely? Because I could take photos, and perhaps it would be fun, of my friends and such, but in truth, they wouldn't be as great as they seem when looked back upon. I guess its just the torture of wanting what you cant have. The longing, the yearning. The missed out feeling. Thats what it is. As if you're missing out. Even though its passed, and even if you were there, its no longer possible to be there, you're missing out. And now its impossile. And its unbearable. Don't miss the opportunities. And if you do, don't look at the photos.

Erm,... Bitch session?

I still don't have any "real" followers (as in they are all my friends in real life! I don't have any e-stalkers!!), although I have only written 3 posts. And I guess the issue is that if all people are like me almost noone would get followed. I'm more interested in writing the posts than reading them. This makes me feel slightly vain. And I can't figure out how to work this website! How do I follow or even view someones profile when they have followed me?
ahh it seems I am in a complaining mood. It is indeed a sad thing to be. A teenager, I mean. One who is lacking in the skills that should be naturally in their system. Due to evolution and such. Growing up in a sea of such knowledge so that surely, in some manner or other, they must absorb it through their skin in such a way as to be able to know everything there is to know about it. I.e. they are perfect and flawless in their aproach to it. And by 'it' this whole time I have been refering to technology. Which my generation is meant to know and understand and use and be able to do small tiny things such as follow a friend on blogger! *gasps for breath*
*fails epically at being a 'true' teenager*
Right, what to complain about next? Though searching for things to complain about probably shouldn't be a thing to do. I am meant to be the eternal optimist afterall. (or so I am told)
I'm gonna jump into bitchy mood here. Its not so far from complaining mood. Not far at all. They could even be confused, especially since complaining is mainly bitching about inanimate objects.
Anyway, what i would like to bitch about, is STUPID HYPOCRITICAL PEOPLE!! Especially hypocritical religious people. Because they preach one thing and say another. In this case Christian hypocrites are pissing me off. :D
They're wonderful truly, I have nothing against christians, but surely, surely, you can't do something and be okay with it just because you pray and the lord gives you forgiveness for it?! Like, its okay to do it, whatever it is, because afterwards you can just pray and God will forgive you for giving this person all this crap and basically ruining their life (even if only for a period of it. Its still crap. And that sucks.) because you said sorry. To Him. And asked for forgiveness. From Him. From God. WHat?! What about the people you hurt? Theyre the ones you should be apologising to! Not God! If you make it alright with the people you hurt, then you should get forgiveness. If you make up for treating them badly and pissing them off or whatever it was you did, then you should be allowed forgiveness. Because otherwise you aren't truly sorry. You're just saying you are. Stupid hypocrites. Stupid people.
Alright. I'm done. I think. Thats it. My bitch. Sorry if I offended you. Please stop being hypocrites everyone. Don't worry friend followers this has nothing to do with you (but then I guess you aren't christians, so how could it?) I'm just rambling :D
Have a nice winter! Here in NZ, where the sun shines meekly and sorrowfully through the clouds at the hypocrites walking below, and occasionally God will point down, hinting to the sun about a passer-by, a REAL bad hypocrite, and a christian one too, and the sun makes sure that when summer time comes around it burns that person twice as hard as the other lesser hypocrites (because we are all hypocrites at one point or other, usually without meaning to, I'm sure) and they really pay for their sins. Not that they know they have. What goes around comes around. Yin yang and all that. BEWARE HYPOCRITES! YOU WILL GET BURNT!

Trees, I suppose...

I am writing this for two reasons;
1. Luke said he would disown me as a friend if i did not write an awesome blog by the end of the week :( that is very sad Luke. You should be ashamed of yourself.
2. To procrastinate. I am 'meant' to be doing a biology report. But 'supposed to' never seems to make too much difference.
ahh and my computer keeps stuffing up! But at least it is raining. I like the rain. Its better than sunshine. But best is when its kinda overcast. Foggy. Cold, but nice because its cold. Or freezing. Which makes you feel alive, truly awake to each sensation. Until you go numb. And then the world still has a lining of silver, a frosty brilliance. Everything seems crystal clear, no confusion.
And Autumn. Autumn is the best season. With the leaves changing colour and falling. The world washed with sepia colour, occasional splotches of evergreen pleasantly interrupting the nostalgia.
The leaves falling from the trees, trees falling from the earth, the sky, everywhere. Just falling. Its almost as if, in that breif moment between heaven and earth, they are flying. Truly free. Drifting and twirling, dancing to their eventual demise. What a way to go. Enjoying their final hours. Their final fall.
*sigh* but it's no longer Autumn. The trees are but skeletons now. Their branches stark naked, bereft of their leafy shroud. And though still beautiful, still georgeous and alluring, there is a dwelling feeling, like a hint, an almost forgotten yearning for their clothing to be once more, their shroud to hide the shapely forms, to leave some things to the imagination. Because sometimes it's more exciting to peer beneath the shroud yourself, peel away the layers, rather than have it there in front of you, obvious and public. It gives a feeling of accomplishment, an excitement. These winter trees are sluts, the whores of nature, second only perhaps to the pukekos which mate with everyone and anyone that they should meet, although probably only those of their species, I should hope so anyway.

Right, I set out to write an awesome blog, to procrastinate and hopefully deter Luke from friend dumping me, and ended up calling trees sluts? hmm but I am in a strange sort of poetical mood. And there is a message of a sort within there, if you look through the kinda obvious metaphores.

I must apologise to you, trees. I love you I really do. I'd just prefer it if you kept your clothes on once in a while!
No, I lie. I like your graceful forms, the way you reach towards the sky, and glisten in the moonlight. There is a beauty within you, a sort of hopeless desperation, and try as I might, despite all possible evidence to the contrary (in this blog no doubt) I do love you. Don't tell the evergreens but they suck! Green all year round, I've always thought they were dull. They never change their look, never embrace the cold crystal clear truth, the freezing mind, which allows a simplicity of thought, a holiday. Instead they fuzz everything over with layer after layer of leaves, a mesh of lies, which confuse the soul. They never reveal their true selves, granting those who listen to their rustling tales nought but a headache, confusion, clouds.
Yes, evergreen trees make clouds. Its to do with the wind blowing through their leaves, if we didnt have any evergreen trees, there would be no clouds in winter :D
Now I have contradicted myself, but they're two different ideas. And truly trees are beautiful. And truly I love Autumn. And truly I don't want Luke to friend dump me; sorry if this isn't awesome enough for you! (i mean truly it isn't a blog, but a rambling of poetical thought. But then, a blog is for expressing ones ideas?)
I leave you with a final command; Don't Forget To Be Awesome!