I know that your hiding things
Using gentle words to shelter me
Your words were like a dream
But dreams could never fool me
Not that easily

I acted so distant then
Didn't say goodbye before you left
But I was listening
You fight your battles far from me
Far too easily

"Save your tears cause I'll come back"
I could hear that you whispered as you walked through that door
But still I swore
To hide the pain, when I turn back the pages
Shouting might have been the answer
What if I cried my eyes out and begged you not to depart
But now I'm not afraid to say what's in my heart

Though a thousand words
Have never been spoken
They'll fly to you
Crossing over the time
And distance holding you, suspended on silver wings
And a thousand words
One thousand confessions
Will cradel you
Making all of the pain you feel seem far away
They'll hold you forever

The dream isn't over yet
Though I often say I can't forget
I still relive that day
You've been there with me all the way
I still hear you say

"Wait for me, I'll write you letters"
I could see how you stand with your eyes to the floor
But still I swore
To hide the doubt when I turn back the pages
Anger might have been the answer
What if I'd hung my head and said that I couldn't wait
But now I'm strong enough to know it's not too late

Cause a thousand words
Call out through the ages
They'll fly to you
Even though we can't see
I know they are reaching you, suspended on silver wings
Oh a thousand words
One thousand embraces
Will cradel you
Making all of your weary days seem far away
They'll hold you forever

Oh a thousand words
Have never been spoken
They'll fly to you
They'll carry you home, and into my arms
Suspended on silver wings
And a thousand words
Call out through the ages
They'll cradel you
Turning all of the lonely years to only days
They'll hold you forever.

I left Melbourne with so much less.

Ironic, considering my purchasing.

This entry is for me. Most of those who read it were involved, and know of the events written.
To them, this will merely be a more intimate exploration of the matter.

No, I'm not going to complain about the trip. I might talk about the good bits in a later entry.

I'm now single. I broke up with my love on Saturday the 11th, and yes, I still call him my love for reasons that will become apparent...
Hopefully.

But let's explore the character of Justin first.
He's a cryptic fellow to say the least. Challenging to read, yet so rewarding once you finish each page.  He has hourglass-shaped emotions that can howl like the wind or be as silent as the grave, but unlike the gradual and elegant taper of the hourglass, there is little transition between emotions. One will simply be.
And he's intelligent, so amazingly intelligent.
Deep and poetic. He can turn a phrase and make it dance. Articulate in his every utterance, diligant, his every sentence.
A genius. A wonder of intrigue that will always fascinate me.

And because of this, I will never not love him.
No matter the circumstances surrounding our disagreements or our feuds, nor the grounds of hostility we frequently tread, part of me will always love him.

He's just too interesting.

But I've been hurt. Bad. He's failed to be there for me in the past in an effort I chalked up to his being unable to empathise with my misery over instant messengers.

That is fair enough.

But the week preceding our break-up, he did just the same. He didn't talk to me very often, and so I percieved this as neglect. I grew distant... sad... miserable... yet he did not notice.

Our two friends noticed; but of course, though! I was crying on trains, my eyes red and sunken, my blue irises crisp as the day I was born.
This percieved neglect coincided with an unfortunate and coincedental bout of Justin's sadly trademark coldness.
The kind I can usually work through.
But the thoughts that were being grimly nurtured in my mind were brought to boiling point.

He could not do this to me.

And so I ended it. And I regret it.
I'm addicted to the curious mind of Justin Grigoleit.
And that he considered me his love.

Call it obsession, I might just agree.

But the truth is...
For the first time in my life, my feeling of misery just became so sickening, it dominated my fear of being alone, sedating what gives me the power to tolerate the let-downs and emotional foibles that I am occasionally treated with.

But the week drained this typically-fertile virtue of mine. I was unable to tolerate the pain anymore.

I could not be with him. I will always love him, and maybe he will, me. But not in 'that' way.
Already, I'm simply a 'good friend'.

And now I'm alone. I've lost the greatest thing I've ever had to my name. I've countless personal problems that keep sleep as but a liberty. And I'm now so sick with depression, loss and weapons-grade self-pity... that...

I don't know what to do.
I'm stalling. I'm coming to a halt as life paces on around me, leaving me trapped in my self-made stasis of memories and regret.

And worst of all.
I'm alone.

(This journal has been repaired coz I'm kinda over it)

You heard right gang! One whole week without an independent thought of ANY KIND! STARTING NOW

 So I've made peace with my boy again.

With how often we have fallouts (albeit minor ones) you'd think there might be some compatibility issues.

I prefer to observe the situation from a move subjective point of view. I think the fact that we always bounce back  is where attention  should be owed.

But what if our world functioned differently and I could just ask 'What have I done?' without being fielded a cryptic response?  If an issue that had just arisen could be forgiven without all the hallmark, miserly treatment.

I don't understand this function most people possess that makes them forgive with such an irritating lack of urgency. In my opinion, carrying out the forgiveness quickly can resolve an issue faster. A forum of opinions can be better nurtured in a fray with less hostility. Forgiveness suggests inequality - a winner and a loser (you might argue that it's two winners, but there will always be a guilty party). It's a cruel adversarial system that is so wrought with pressure that it has likely decimated more relationships than it has redeemed.
 
So what's the alternative? First acknowledge that there will be times like this, and that if both parties have the patience for forgiveness, then they also have a mutual desire to see the relationship prosper and move on. Secondly tuck the mistakes away where they can be resolved by a means other than confrontation – time. The time spent enjoying each other's company without fathom of past mistakes will remind the couple of what brought, and keeps, them together, rather than painfully reminding them of what pushes them apart.
 
Thirdly: profit! (Sorry, Hattie can't be serious all of the time)
 
Of course, some issues do require immediate action. I've based my assertion on the notion that the relationship is meant to be. Severance is all too appropriate sometimes, and even then, dwelling on the wrongs will only devalue the rights; make forgotten the moments that were truly wonderful - just to sate some ancient grudge.
 
A crime I'm all too guilty of.
 
Grief can take care of itself; but to get the full value of joy, there must be someone to share it with. Because of this, I will not dwell on issues my love and I have shared in the past. Why dwell on past issues when there's so many future ones to grieve over!
 
I kid. I love him, really.
 
And you can't reason with your heart. It thumps to a beat foreign to the intellect and all its rules of causality and rationality.

And the mind will never keep up.

So, woke up miserable today.

Well... That's essentially a lie; I was miserable last night too.

What's worse is that I have no idea why.

A variety of things put me down yesterday, but I could easily bounce back from that calibre of downers.

No, the source has to be something else; and I'm hell-bent and determined to find out what it is.

I'm inclined to think that it was the realisation that without uni (exams are now over), I'm incredibly unoccupied. I feel like such a drag on society. A real liability and moocher.

That could be it...
 

While I was down, I did start thinking about some things... as you do.

Like how nice it would be if that when I were down, I could just call up my boy and say 'I'm not feeling good, can I hang out with you?'

I can't imagine how good it would feel to know that security; to know that love and acceptance are never too far away. To me it seems like such a phenomenal luxury.

As if catering to my ponderings, I suddenly recieved a text from my boy. It felt eerily appropriate that I recieved it when I did, yet also sadly ironic. It was as if my message-tone and the solitary J on my screen stood for the immediate limitations of our relationship, saying in a booming voice that only I can hear, 'this is as good as it's going to get... for the time being'

When I actually read the message, I don't think I've ever had such mixed feelings. I was glad to recieve it, you know. I hadn't recieved a text from him in literally months, and the timing couldn't have been more brilliant. But it was the content. Now that's not his fault, he didn't know how I was feeling, but almost anything else would have gone down better in picking me up.

Fortunately, the feelings were so damn mixed, that it left me in a neutral mood for the rest of the night.

Now this is why I don't usuallyy get up before mid-day.

It's SO cold out!

I typically like to let the sun get out of bed before me, so he can do his job. Smarmy slacker.

So I'm siitting in the Y block courtyard, waiting for a friend so we can enjoy the gym together.
Le brr, I'm not having second thoughts. But I wish i had warm gym-wear.

I was thinking today, and this is a first (shut up!) because it was about a topic I'm usually noting more than apathetic about.

I'm wondering what happened to everyone else.

All my primary school and highschool buddies. Most of which I didn't really like.

... let's not sugar coat it.

Many of which I wish a slow, painful, yet curable disease on; curable just so they can live to catch it again.

I mean thinking about some of them literally hurts. They made my primary schooling hell, or my high schooling unpleasant.

And despite this, indeed, maybe because of this, I'm eager to know what became of them.

(mental images of life-support machines)

So I would commit to this thing, and look at me. I've barely written any entries.

My poor, loyal readers are denied my esoteric brand of personalised journal entrydom. So I'll give you all an update on me.

Uni is doing fine. Well, sorta.
I'm worried that I might fail Law Society and Justice. I'll have to blitz this exam... It's 70% of our marks. My other subjects are going great. Torts is my favourite (Maybe I will end up an ambulance chaser), contracts is my least favourite, foundations is... meh.

I just wish this year would get out of the way and I could start taking subjects that actually interest me. Like family law and ADR.

Oh well.

In other news, I've taken to wearing a silk scarf to uni. Oh the looks I get. It's like a massive sign saying 'Get It Here', but it's a stylish piece of cloth fastened loosely around my neck.

What else is there to say. Oh yeah, the other day, being the incredibly 'tendo fag that I am, I bought some Nintendo merchandise from a Brisbane comic-book store.

One item is particularly interesting. It's supposed to be 'spring Mario' from Super Mario Galaxy (one of my most favourite games), but it looks more like 'tentacle-rape Mario' , especially with the way his spine bends backwards, as if contracting to the squishy, probing tendrils. It's positively delightful.

What else can I say. I'm going to melbourne soon, but I think all my readers here not only know that, but are involved ><, so clearly I'm resorting to filler. A tell-tale sign that this entry has gone on long enough.

Farewell my loyal readers. I love you all. But to awfully paraphrase Animal Farm, 'I love some of you more than others, in that I want to do strange unusual things to one of you'.

Try and guess who =D

So my boy wants to go to england next year.

For the whole year. To live.

...

At the risk of sounding self-centred... What is the boyfriend expected to do in this situation?

I've tried so hard to make this 'long-distance-relationship' thing work; and so far, it has! Remarkably! But widening the 'long-distance' part seems quite the step backwards.

But I know. This trip isn't for me. It's for him. Let me waive my need to keep reminding you all of that by saying right now that there's no way  I can explain this without sounding selfish.

Here goes.

How do we make the long-distance relationship work?

We call/text via phone.
We chat over IM at suitable times.
We scrounge up the funds to do a quick jaunt over to their end of the country.

none of those three can be undertaken realistically in the new relationship environment. Phone calls are expensive, different time-zones and work hours, and a rediculously expensive concept of 'jaunt' which is drowning in red tape.

So that  can't work. So how do I make it work? Blind devotion? I don't want to sound weak or uncommitted... but...

I CAN'T DO THAT FOR A WHOLE YEAR.
...
I just can't.

If he goes on this trip, we're finished. This isn't an ultimatum, this is reality. It'd happen whether or not  I pointed it out now.
Now let it be known that I, in no way, want to guilt trip him out of this trip. I'd like him to go; I like whatever makes him happy.

But this is just one of those forks in the road.

I've raised this with him, don't get me wrong. I don't flee to the private forum of Live-Journal before attempting some self-help.

But that discussion was less than favourable. He said things like 'I can't believe you brought that up', I still don't really understand why he said that. Ok, some reasons I've pondered are that he's sick and currently in high-school, so it's not necessarilly what he wants or needs on his mind right now. Another is that this knowledge would bar him from enjoying the trip itself.

All are merely the products of a sleepless mind.

Don't let my realism be mistaken for eagerness. The two are in no way connected. This is a realisation I've made, a foresight. I don't in any way like it, it's been rending my mind since I first pondered it (which was when he first mentioned the trip). It's not easy learning that your love has an expiry date.

And please, don't tell me it can work. This isn't some Disney world where my beloved can set foot upon land but one day a year and I'll obligingly wait.

So here's another field of thought. Should I just enjoy it while I have it? It seems reasonable and rational enough, but that just means that come his departure, the impact will be more heavy.

I don't know what to do.

I honestly believe there's no one in this world for me. None so cold and kniving, so rabid and backstabbing, yet so pensive and expansive, intelligent and deep.

That wasn't justs self flattery, honest. I'm going somewhere with this.

Even if there are those who do love me, when my true personality gets out, even momentarily, people are scarred. And the fact that they cannot accept me just leaves me jaded.

So here goes. Here is Myles Penfold-Smith, portrait of a bohemian.

I'm 18 time of writing, I've lived a 'pushed to achieve' life up to now; 18 years of hating myself (both my personality and appearance) left me more aware of the world, more skeptical, more conscious. Put simply, I'm constantly thinking. It never stops.

I'll think about the most obscure of things, often think too deeply into others. This just leads to my feeling awful. So yes, if I'm randomly sad, that's why. I've thought about something too much.

But this constant thinking has lead me to think about some things which others don't think about (horrible sentence...), but bear with me. Take for example, a recent pondering of mine which lead to disastrous consequences, I thought that some people must have a higher consciousness or awareness of themselves that gives them their 'sexual sentience'. Because when you think about it, sex with woman is programmed, it's automatic. I believed that everyone should be able to say 'I like (gender)  because (reason)', or admit that they've an absense of 'sexual sentience', because they're only screwing because it's inherent programing or 'natural' and that they've failed to notice and question this.

WHO THINKS ABOUT THIS SHIT!?

Of course it met with huge criticism, most of my beliefs are unpopular. I'm deeply opinionated on certainly any matter, but to make things worse, I'll argue practically anything. Oftentimes, just for the sake of arguing.

I wish I could just turn off...

But I love arguing/debating. Bouncing ideas and thoughts off people, feeding on their justification and weaving appropriate responses... the whole experience is simply delectable.

I just have poor argument ettiquet in some areas.

If I feel someone has misinterpretted me, I hold it against them, and their intelligence. This may be true in some areas, but I certainly acknowledge the fact that a well articulated argument is a good argument. Inversely...

I don't let people out. The thrill of debate is euphoric for me, and I don't want it to stop. I'll hold this, again, aggainst my opposition.

It is through my debates that my unpopular beliefs come to light...

But this is just who I am.

I've always been against the current, seeing positive aspects in the most morbid of situations, always being on 'the other wing' during history and social study classes. It was rather apt when I admitted to myself that I was gay, yet also rather sad. Once again, I was different.

My sexuality drove me for a while, it lead me into a situation which left me skeptical of all relationships. I knew I didn't want a woman, yet I was now scared of men.

And sex? Forget about it, at that time, nothing reviled me more.

But over time, through the help of many people, I overcame this dark patch. I reached a high I'd never before reached.

But that's when I realised. All that skepticism about relationships and sex had distracted me. And now I was no longer distracted.

My true self was released for a single night, I lost one friend. Almost two. All through my unpopular opinions and  essentially 'being myself'.

I broke down that night, helped up immediately  by my love, but inside I was still broken.
It seemed that I'd never be able to be myself, lest risk hurting more people close to me.

Like my love.

Whom I just have, only tonight.

Yes. I adore him. With all my heart and all that other meaningless drivel which only serves to wrap ribbons around the true scope of my love.

But is he right for me? Is anyone?

Admittedly, my love has done some amazing things to me. He generally made me more happy about my life and reaffirmed my faith in man-kind (I mean that literally). Heck, he's survived many brushes with 'my true self' too.

But i've still hurt him

It was said in Dexter that we all have a 'big bad wolf' inside us, and that there's a trick to managing it.

Admit it's there
Don't hate it, understand it, befriend it.
Let it out for a feed every once in a while.

I don't know how to manage the last step.

Will those who do still care for me help me?

Hi, readers.

My bitch of a cold stopped me from writing this rant yesterday, so I'll do it now.

There are many out there who believe in the idea of a soul mate. And in the online dating scene, this notion is both supported in some respects, and absolutely butchered in others.

Let me begin by pointing out that the chances of someone else in the world be compatible with you is incredibly high. There's just so many people in the world. But practicality issues ensue!

Monogamously committing to someone on the other side of the world is a fools errand. There will always be a firewall stopping the relationship from ever advancing. Also, in so doing, people are shutting themselves off from any local potential. Dare I say, 'practical' potential.

Is this based on any experience or person I know?

Maybe.



 

It's been a long time coming. It's only suitable that the common cold makes an appearance in this, the middle of Autumn. I'm actually rather gracious that it put off addling my fragile person until it did. Days earlier would have proven dire.

 

It irritates me just how much dominion the cold exercises over the host's getting to sleep. It's almost playful. I lie down, and my sinuses clog with green viro-jelly; so I sit up and approach remedy for the issue, say... a tissue, and what happens?

 

The cold plays an incredibly sore game of peek-a-boo.

And all I can do is go back to sleep; or at least try to anyway.

 

But then, the cold will wake me up after various intervals to make me dispense hoarse chunks of my lungs for a while before once again losing interest.

 

This is what got me thinking:

 

The cold seems to have a mind-set similar to that of a young child.

 

Like a child:

The cold is primarily irritating, but will stop on occasion.

There is no immediate remedy to the problem besides letting it mature.

There are no cures, just things designed to help you tolerate it.

The cold will only commit to an annoyance for a brief time.

 

I hate kids.

 

I'm really not enjoying it. I know it takes a really sick mind to actually enjoy a cold, but I hate the thought that the virus could possibly be having a little adventure, at my expense.

 

She was touring my throat last night. Now she's well a truly taking in the sights around my sinuses.

 

I just wish her always-away husband would hurry up and intervene and stop mum's crusade petty, yet cruel attacks on me!

 

I'm sorry, lost my train of thought...

 

Oh well. Stay tuned guys. I've a few rants planned today, so don't feed the lions, and don't touch that dial.

 

~ Hattie, the pussy.

Tomorrow we celebrate the anniversary of some dude's gruesome death. Apparently it was for the greater good, or so they tell me. Hence why I celebrate.
 

Happy Dead-Jesus Day!

Festivities begin with the traditional watching of Monty Python's 'Life of Brian'.

Then... I dunno. I don't usually think that hard about it.

You may think I'm bastardizing the holiday in a blasphemous display of unholy... stuff. But I think the holiday was successfully butchered, drained, and cut up into little pieces for Dexter to squee over when it was hit with the corked, steel-plated bat of commercialism.

Maybe it was all part of a plan.

When asked why he sentenced Jebus to death, Pontius Pilate unfolds a massive flowchart.

Step one: Kill Jesus.

Step two: ???

Step three: Chickens, eggs, bunnies and chocolate.

Curse that handsome devil. But maybe he was on to something!

See, the death, birth and resurrection of Jesus are all public holidays... I ask you, where do we draw the line in our secular society? I mean, it's already obvious that we're not going to let anything as menial as the silly, old constitution get in the way of a bit of theological dick-waving, so why not go all the way and birth exciting new public holidays? Jesus' first loose tooth, Jesus' first girl friend, Jesus' first parallel park, Jesus' first tax return. Jesus' first cheque bounce.

 

It seems that so long as something happens to Jesus, our taking it easy, being lazy and doing bugger-all for an entire day is sufficient, nay, pompous celebration (short of actually going to church, but honestly, who does that?).

 

It's like celebrating labor day by not working. Or similarly, Australia Day.

 

Nothing captivates the true Australian ethos more than not doing anything.

 

Oh well. All this ranting has left me famished.

 

 

Well check it out. Now everyone's favourite lion has a LJ.

I mainly subscribed for the arbitrary reason that my friends were getting away with writing drizzly soul-exposés that ironically I lacked the 'friend' status to view... and make fun of...

But now that I'm here, feel free to subscribe the whimsical ramblings of Hattie.

Who knows. Maybe you'll learn a little something about that funny little mind of mine.

Or maybe you'll end up so disgusted that you'll lose faith in humanity and take your death like a real man.

I offer no guarantees.

So... a journal...

OK. Today I have a contracts tutorial. The most soul-numbing subject you could imagine. We basically put science and procedure behind every-day conduct; it's incredibly unnecessary. It's like putting madness to method.

 

At least they have padded cells for madness.

 

I get graded on this shit! We look at things like posters that say 'Lost Dog! Reward' and say how it's, 'a unilateral contract. An offer made to the world at large where action constitutes adequate consideration.'

 

FARK!

 

I'm doing pretty well though! So I'm not sure what I'm complaining about.

 

OK. If you enjoyed that journal, subscribe! I guarantee, there's more to come.

 

~ Hattie, the slumdog felis leo.