how’s it going?

how are we all?

We’re well into winter in sydney now, the deciduous trees have no leaves while the eucalypts feel left out, we’re wearing layers that don’t necessarily match each other and I’d had to wash a few scarves, which I rarely do because let’s be honest, who washes scarves! Well I do, sometimes, because they get dirty, but it always feel weird and I try to avoid it.

then there’s the abominable truth that I have my final exams next week and have done inadequate study, something that for me always goes hand in hand with wintertime.

ah, life and all your abrasive ugliness!

anyway, I am hoping that everyone else in the blogging world is going nicely too, whatever season you’re in, whether you’re under a good spell or a bad spell, whether last night was euphoric and hazy or you spent it crying into your pillow.

there you go. I’m a stranger who cares.

much love, soph x

marriage

The architecture of his thoughts

were like daggers in her spine

his words dug fingernails into

her meaningless fickle mime

 

he asked ‘what do you mean’

as she quivered with dissent

he struck her hard with syntactic force

 as she crumbled to the earth

 

that night as they walked home

words echoing in indigo air

 stars were uttering tiny rhymes:

                ‘you didn’t see her,

                         you weren’t there.’

My date with loneliness

I think I read somewhere that we become more impulsive when alone. I can certainly attest to this. One of my many unneccesssary talents involves buying  things I don’t need as comfort for the fact that I AM SO FOREVER ALONE *sad face.* I believe some call it retail therapy.

Yeah, retail therapy’s definitely my thing, so if you’re ever floating about feeling desolate call me up yo and I’ll hook you up with the most ridiculous piece of clothing you’ve ever seen. It will blow your tiny mind.

Today, loneliness and I went on another date (hence the title.) We’ve been on quite a few so far, but we haven’t really moved further in the relationship. Not that I would want to. I have this fear that once I start dining and going to  cinemas alone, there is no going back, and Mr L.Oneliness will percieve himself and I in a steady commited relationship. Ie, no more friends. Which is a sad thing.

If my life was a movie and it had a movie score called Sophie’s Theme (as it often is done that way for protagonists) it’d be very, very similar to the piece “Married Life” from the movie Up, because to be honest with you that music encapsulates my soul. I love it to pieces.

I have to go study *sigh.* So. Laterz.

and thus I return to the blogging realm

once again I’ve returned. It’s been a long gap this time. Oh well, it doesn’t really seem like anyone’s that torn up about it.

you know what I hate? reverse parking. that thing is a beast. to be perfectly straight with you, I am considering abandoning driving entirely purely because of the fact that parking in a reverse way does not make sense.

It’s soul crushing. that’s what it is. Every time I think I’ve done it, it’ll be a loud BANG *crunch* and I will have hit the kerb. Either that or I’ll be somewhere out in the middle of the road.

and after this has happened, my dad’s advice would invariably be: “Soph, I have some advice. Get a bike.”

He literally spoke these words to me today. I abhor it. I cannot withstand it any longer.

as of today, I am hereafter boycotting driving.

sincerely, sophie

Dear boundless forboding ocean,

you seem impregnable to me.

The way you churn and spill and

yearn and thrill

against cliff faces and tides and

aimless, erratic time-

you make me queasy in the most wrong way

you almost make me ill.

the tale of the tiny toothbrush

Last week when I was on stradbroke island I ventured towards a secluded lagoon. It looked tranquil from a distance; the aquamarine ocean, the tiny rolling waves of sea foam, the way the water spilled and crashed against the cliffs on either side.

But as we came closer my feet felt the prickle of pain and pollution and, sadly, plastic. It was such a downer. Streaked in lines in the pattern of waves from the past; trails of tiny pieces of plastic covered the shoreline; ghostly remnants or watermarks of the morning’s high tide.

I examined the debris for a while, mildly intrigued about where it came from and wondering how much more plastic there was just floating around in the blue yonder.  Most of it was in nondescript shapes, broken and morphed by the sun and age, but there were a few discernable items.

I’m going to focus on the toothbrush.

How did a toothbrush end up on a tiny beach? Wouldn’t it be cool if we could interview the toothbrush, probe him, question him, demand that he tells us the stories of his travels?

TOOTHBRUSH: My name is Tooth McBrush (Jnr.) My father was a well esteemed toothbrush, brushing the teeth of the rich aristocracy in Madrid in the 1950’s. My childhood was simple, restful. When I reached the age of Brushing I was assigned to Colgate, with whom I was sent to North Carolina, USA for Tooth Brush Boot Camp. After five years of hard, grueling training, I graduated, was awarded my medals, shrinkwrapped and shipped off to Ho Chi Minh, Vietnam, where I was sold to a middle aged man with two front teeth missing in a supermarket. It was 1989. The work was tough. It was not what we were prepared back in the training days. But like a good toothbrush I kept my head down, eventually working myself to the highest level of brushing. My owner had the shinest teeth in his province. Then, all was lost two years later when I was accidentally flushed down the toilet by one of his clumsy grandchildren. I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye as water enveloped my and I was struggling for my life in the Vietnamese sewer. I don’t have a strong memory of these traumatic days. All I know is that eventually, I survived the ordeal, being pushed out of a pipe and seeing, with a gush of relief, the sunlight again. This did not last long as again I plunged to my downfall into the deep, forboding ocean.

….I just realised that I have to go somewhere. I should probably stop here since I was probably getting a bit too carried away- I understand if you’re starting to feel a little worried, friend.

But you get my point about the toothbrush thing, right? :p

 

two posts today!

because why not?

So… you know how late at night while in the shower you have these epiphanies. It’s a pretty common thing for me. Not all of them are exactly groundbreaking, as in often I’m just imagining cool things that could happen like if I found a wormhole under my bed or suddenly became famous. But I digress.

Tonight you could say I finally looked at myself. I looked, from a third person viewpoint, at the girl I’d been for the past couple of months and realised that there is a ton of work to do. Like tending a garden or cleaning the gutters, people need maintenance, too. I need to become more aware of that I think. Because there’s no such thing as a self-cleaning sink and no one can get away with doing nothing about themselves, physically or spiritually, and stay okay.

Then again this revelation may be just another product of the intense procrastinating I’ve been doing for  the past 48 hours, honestly, it’s been insane. I’ve never worked this hard at procrastinating before. It’s not that  I detest the assignment; I don’t think I do. But for some reason I suddenly become more inspired about something when I have other things to worry about.

I have this obsession now with casually editing photos on my phone and it’s been working quite well. You could say that they’re drastically embellished and overdone but I guess that’s just my style, I’ve been overdoing it since I was drawing with a crayon.

I’m trembling with excitement at the mere possibility of attending Splendour in the grass this year – it’s been a dream for so many years now and it’s so exciting that it might actually come true…. I’m quite excited as I love  concerts, but this would be my first festival….:) :) :)

…apologies for my lavish use of the smiley emoticon, I know they’re overused. But I’m going to keep using them in a post-ironic kind of way.

anyway, I think I’ve been having a few too many youtube binges recently. You know you’ve gone too far when you’ve watched four music videos of pop artists you don’t like, watched a billion bad X-factor auditions and topped it off with some honey boo boo child….yeah, I’ve definitely gone too far.

I hope I update this blog soon. I really do. I like having one.

^taken at stradbroke island

 

^taken at home

 

^taken the time I got lost in Macdonaldtown

 

^taken at my grandmamas’

 

 

 

i’m procrasti-blogging

Some bake, some socialise, others wander around helplessly, or read, or write, or heaven forbid watch tv- but me, I blog.

I spent a weekend on an island for a wedding. It was idyllic and oddly transcendental. Well. I don’t know about transcendental. Maybe it was, but I’m not spiritual type so anyway, I don’t really know what I’m going on about.

here’s the thing about life right now. The news is fantastically interesting. I mean that in the sense that the world may possibly be ending. Considering having a career change because let’s face it, a job reporting the progress of the apocalypse would not at all be boring. I’m studying law though so maybe that would be interesting to be involved in so that I can understand how drastically our legislation would change if our society fell to anarchy.

“The tinkerbell effect” is an idea I found about where something only exists because the public believes in its existence. For example, money only has value because we decide that it has value, ie. it has no intrinsic value. I feel like there could be something fascinating and exciting about this idea if I could work out what it was. How something impossible could happen if you convinced everyone to believe in it.

that’s something that happens in my brain very, very regularly. I feel like there could be something amazing found in this idea or that idea but my brain can’t switch on the flashlight. I have a love-hate relationship with this brain of mine.

i want to keep wasting time like this. sadly, my work is a group assignment, which means that actual people are counting on me, rather than just the notion of marks et cetera, which I think is much worse. I’ve always been a night-before-assignment kind of gal because I need pressure to do things otherwise I cannot be bothered to do them. i am aware that this infuriates the organised type of others.

i must persist. fare thee well, procrasti-blog.

‘shared adversity’

so I think it’s pretty obvious now that I have some serious committment issues with this blog. Am updating it often? Do I care enough for that? Am I doing it for attention or is it really some creative catharsis experimenting page kind of thing? I don’t know! I don’t know!

I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’M DOING HERE!

ah, okay.

I’m back. That’s better.

So, today I had a rather philosophical moment while playing Monsters Run on my iphone on the train. I was thinking about adversity, and how we overcome it sometimes with acts that seem beyond what people would expect us to achieve. and how shared adversity makes our bonds with each other so much stronger. Like in the book I just read, ‘wonder’ by r.j palacio, where the kid with the facial anomaly brings the good out of everyone around him simply because they all worry about how his life is going to hard.

for the past few weeks I’ve had this itch to create something new and magical and exciting. But it’s a phantom itch because I don’t know what I want to do or and where this itch is comin g from.

perhaps i’m on the cusp of something.

i love that word.

cusp.

I’ll tell you what I also love- tickling children. I love to watch them squirm and giggle. It’s so entertaining.

eh. until we meet again.

experiment #0001

This was an experiment I tried. Basically I tried to start a story like this (I’m always looking for ambitious title sequences) but I got a bit carried away and accidentally ended it far too abrubtly. So, I’m putting it to rest on the internet.

*******************************************************************************************************************

I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, and I’m swarmed by that familiar existentialist conundrum.

Jump.

What? No! That would be really stupid. Shut up, conscience.

No, seriously, jump.

I’d gone through twenty years of life and all along I’d never been a jumper. I’d never been the first one to do anything in my life, not even the first one to crawl or walk or talk when I was tiny and gurgling like the toddlers my sister babysits on Thursdays.

You could jump so easily, though. Doesn’t that scare you?

Of course it scares me. It scares me that I can do things. It does that for all of us sometimes, doesn’t it?

Does it?

Yeah. It scares me that I can jump, let go of the world my feet have clung to, and fly, suspended in a perfect moment, down the echoing rocky crevasse for what seems like a beautiful piece of eternal simplicity until…

SPLAT!

Yeah, that fantasy’s gone.