All You Need Is Love

I've turned into a bit of a hippie since I last blogged (not including that last post explaining my extended absence), I've become somewhat obsessed with The Beatles and Paul McCartney. Mainly Paul. Having listened to their songs continuously for the past couple of months, I've learnt the following things:

1. To make big changes in the world, we have to first fix the little problems as they are the foundations of the bigger problems.

2. The most important thing in the world is love.

3. People are scared of love because of several reasons. All these reasons are silly, I can't even be bothered listing them.

4. To love your friends is just as important as loving your lover.

5. Love has a nasty habit of disappearing over night.

6. People live by a belief that they can't change the world single handedly. If everyone thinks this, and therefore does nothing, then you're right. The world can't be changed.

7. We still have the same problems in 2010 as The Beatles had in the 60s-80s. Paul McCartney points this out in his poem 'Was It Really Twenty Years Ago?' So hopefully in 20 years from today things will be better and not worse.

8. Perspective can make devils or angles of us.

9. If you give a gun to a man and tell him he has to shoot, he will shoot. If you tell him not to shoot there's a 50% chance he will. (This statement could be promptly argued against, but I'm being metaphorical. The point is, when we're exposed to badness we're more likely to be corrupted than changing for the better when we're exposed to goodness. The point of that is, we should all try and listen to the goodness and not the badness.)

10. The Beatles write A LOT of songs about leaving and returning home. So much in fact, you start to wonder if they toured the world constantly, leaving numerous friends and family behind.

11. For well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool but making his world a little colder.

12. Paul McCartney's book 'High In The Clouds' (which I really ought to return to the library), demonstrates that the world isn't perfect, but happiness can be found in any situation, especially if you look out for others and aim to achieve happiness for not only yourself but those around you as well.

I'll skip points 13-678 for today, as I must go and celebrate my mums birthday.

I'm Back

I was about to apologise for not writing in what..... oh, I don't know, months? But I won't. Ha!

I hope you enjoy the new layout, I did like the other one, but felt a change was in order. This will bore you, but I feel I need to explain why I haven't written in so long. It comes down to this and this alone: I don't have a computer. I mean, I DIDN'T have a computer. Now I do. I salvaged a maximum of five minutes a day on the family computer, as my sister's games and dad's... whatever it is he does... was far more important (I only say that with the slightest hint of sarcasm).

At present I only have five minutes to write this post (as my computer is not 'ready' and I am on the family one), I wish to include the following facts:

1. I am most alive.

2. I haven't given up on this blog.

3. I hope I haven't lost too many readers.... hopefully all three of you are still faithful.

And that is all I have time for. Ignore any grammar mistakes as I don't have time to read back over this.

Julie and Luna

I was watching the film ‘Julie and Julia’ (or is it ‘Julia and Julie’?) the other day, and realised that Julie is just like me. Ok, I only watched the first half (I can’t go against the magical force which is my bed time), so let’s pretend for the purpose of this blog that the second half of the film doesn’t exist (she could, after all, become a serial killer or something of the sort.)

1. She has a blog... so do I.

2. She writes on her blog very frequently, maybe several times a day..... we can pretend that’s true of me.

3. She is cooking her way through a famous chefs cook book and blogging about it..... I am moving my way through my own life and on rare occasion’s blogging about it.

4. She can cook.... this is the part where I say “I can’t cook”, but that isn’t true, I just don’t cook very often which makes me inexperienced and not the best of cooks (which I’m sure would be the same for Julie, had she not made the decision to love cooking and therefore do it regularly.)

5. Julie has readers who send her gifts and money, she is greatly loved by those who follow her blog...... I’m sure it would be much the same for me if I had my address on here, and a paypal system for all of you to send me money.

6. I don’t like eggs.... neither does Julie (until, of course, she tries an egg for the first time and falls in love with them.)

7. Julie caught the train in one or two shots of the film.... I have caught the train before.

8. Many people read her blog and she is overwhelmed with comments.... my time will come.

As you can see, we’re practically soul mates. The only difference between me and Julie is that she is very busy with her job, meeting friends and cooking her way through a cookbook..... I am sitting at home playing cards by myself (although, I must admit, the delight of beating myself is just wonderful.) I guess I’ll have to patiently wait until mid/late December when I catch a train all the way to NSW to meet James Johnston, that’ll be fun.

To the Video Store and Back

Her blistered feet thumped across the steaming pavement, there was nothing but a pair of thin plastic thongs between her flesh and the hard concreted ground that ran through the park. She picked up her pace, her head still pounding with the sound of shattered glass and drunken laughter echoing from home. All too quickly she reached the local shops, moderately deserted, only the essential stores.
Not knowing what to do or where to go, she decided hastily to visit the video store. She knew that in there she could walk around leisurely for hours without anyone so much as noticing her. She pushed hard on the store door, which was conveniently closed to keep the cool air inside and the hot air out. Feeling a wave of relief as she entered the air conditioned store, she felt suddenly aware of the light dress she was wearing, feeling its weight on her body as if it hadn’t existed all the time she was outside.
Late Friday afternoon and the video store was packed, parents and their children come to choose a film for the night. Happy families, laughing and playfully teasing each other. Maybe she shouldn’t have come to the video store. She headed to the back of the shop, where the horror and thriller films sat hauntingly awaiting their next victims, ready to jump out at any unsuspecting child who wondered unknowingly to the wrong end of the store. Here it was empty of people. Her eyes flicked over the gory covers until she’d had enough and could no longer withhold the mask of bravery she’d put on.
Her eyes met those of a young boy, perhaps three or four years of age, he stared at her for a while, his mattered hair covering the majority of his oversized glasses, after several seconds the staring became less and less innocent and an eerie sensation that the child was dead crossed her mind.
“Michael, come away from the horror section” a tall man placed his hand on the boys shoulder, his hair was much the same as the boys only more tame and groomed, and his glasses were of a suitable size. The child broke his gaze and looked up at his father longingly “you might see something frightening” the man persisted, and led his son away, guiding him to the counter of the store. The boy turned around and looked at her once more, from the corner of his right eye a line of thin crimson liquid streamed down his cheek, he slowly turned his head, took his father’s hand and they silently approached the counter.
“Excuse me” Lily called after the boy and her father “excuse me!” she repeated louder when neither of them responded. Lily walked closer to them, stood on her toes and tapped the man on the shoulder “excuse me, I think your son’s eye is bleeding” she said in her most mature voice, trying to sound sure of herself despite being only eleven. The man turned around, and Lily was too stunned to scream or even talk when he looked down at her with dripping red eyes, under blood splattered glasses.
He and his son quickened to a sprint and left the store, without so much as putting their film back on the shelf. “You have to pay for that!” the cashier shouted after them, oblivious to all that Lily had seen. Too shocked to pursue the man and his son or tell someone what had happened, Lily fearlessly concluded that a house of drunken men would be safer than the unknown of this seemingly ordinary, and yet spine chillingly unordinary, evening out at the shops, and decided to head home.
The sun had not yet fallen, Lily wasn’t used to being able to see so clearly at 7pm, but was glad the evening sky provided her with some comfort and guidance for the short journey home.
She wacked her headphones on her ears and turned up the volume, as to wash out her own horrifying thoughts. It didn’t take long until she was away from the shops and walking alone, down a street of houses.
The upbeat music with its sweetened lyrics added a somewhat creepy feel to Lily’s walk, but she dared not turn it off and be succumbed to the evil powers of her own imagination. The guitars and drums played a familiar tune in her ears, she tapped her fingers gently on her leg to the rhythm, until a strange unheard of instrument began playing a flicking, scratching noise every three or so beats. Lily figured she just hadn’t noticed this particular instrument in the song before, but became more and more certain that it didn’t belong as the song progressed. Eventually she was jolted to the terrifying realisation that this sound may not be coming from her MP3 played and, with a quickening heart beat, lifted the fluffy black headphones of her ears and heard as the flicking noise got further away with the rest of the music. She exhaled in relief and placed the headphones securely back on. But to her horror, the music was no longer playing and all that could be heard was the rhythmic flicking, like a long nail quickly scratching some hard metal surface. She whipped off her headphones and left them of the floor, she was free of the noise but began to run.
She continued to glance behind her to make sure she wasn’t being followed, but kept a focused determination on the road ahead and the desire to be at home in bed. She looked back and noticed the shadow of a person reflecting on the pavement meters behind her own shadow, without checking to see who it was she broke into an electrified sprint and ran with more energy than she thought she had and yet less than what she wanted. The person continued to gain on her, from the shadow she could see that he was much larger than herself. The torture of not knowing what her pursuer looked like finally got to Lily, and she looked down the path behind her. There was no one there. She continued to run, with less speed, turning back to make sure no one was there several times.
It took almost five seconds before she noticed the shadow on the ground, still there, still gaining on her. She looked back and saw no person. Whose shadow was it if there was no one after her? Lily stopped running and watched as the shadow approached her own shadow, pulled out a large shadow knife and stubbed her right in the shadow heart. She watched as her shadow clenched at the wound and fell to its knees, she had to check to make sure she wasn’t making the same movements. Lily bent down and touched the darkened outline of ground, but it was just concrete, just a shadow.
Running all the way back home, the light reflected off her but caused no shadow, she reached the door of her house and went inside. She wasn’t surprised to find it unlooked. She cautiously snuck past her father and his friends, who were asleep on the floor of the kitchen, bottles of bear in each of their hands. Once she reached the stairs she ran up them victoriously, she had made it home alive. She grabbed her pyjamas off the end of her bed and pushed open the bathroom door, locking it behind her. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, her eyes were a shiny scarlet, dripping heavily from their sockets and onto the sink.

lol

It has come to my attention that ‘lol’ is no longer an acronym for ‘laugh out loud.’ These days, when someone actually physically laughs they have to say ‘HAHAHA’ or ‘I actually just loled at that last comment you made!’ even ‘haha’ is often used when the person doesn’t laugh, but is commonly used when they find something funny or amusing. In the present day ‘lol’ is used to ensure that the receiver of the message or comment acknowledges that the conversation is light hearted and not too serious.

For example: “you’re so crazy lol”
Or
“Stop talking about Matthew Lewis lol”

It isn’t an expression of sarcasm, what is being said is meant, but possibly the sender is smiling while writing it or wanting to avoid offending the receiver. ‘lol’ is also commonly used to break up sentences, as a more friendly substitution for a full stop or comer.

For example: “yesterday was so fun lol what are you doing tomorrow?”
Or
“Stop bringing up Matthew Lewis lol ur obsessed”

The moment I realised ‘lol’ no longer represented laughter was when I sent a friend this message:
“Why weren’t you in class today?”
And got the reply
“I was sick lol”
I almost said
“haha yeah that IS pretty funny, I’m laughing out loud at the thought of you being sick at home as well!”
What she actually meant was
“I was sick, but don’t worry, it’s not that bad”

And that’s pretty much all I have to say, this blog is all but dead lol

Who Mowed the Lawns of Eden?

I woke up to this song playing on my radio, and thought it was pretty funny:

Who mowed the lawns of Eden? Who kept the garden trim?
Adam never volunteered, I'm sure it wasn't him.
Who pruned all the fruit trees to which Genesis refers?
Did the angel Gabriel have some secateurs?

Who mowed the lawns of Eden? Who kept the garden green?
Eve was not a gardener, and the Cherubs were not keen.
The angels and archangels, they were pretty much the same,
They refused to weed as well as magnify His name.
The Seraphim, they could have helped in several different ways,
But they had all their time used up with singing hymns of praise.
The Heavenly Host was small then, because nobody had died,
But none of them liked digging, even though they'd never tried.
I bet the saints and martyrs would have loved to dig and hoe,
For martyrs up in heaven are the same as here below.

Who mowed the lawns of Eden? Who helped the garden grow?
Who made of it a Paradise? I'll tell you, 'cos I know.
God. He fixed the garden, the first one that he made,
He pruned all the roses, and was handy with his spade.
On Sunday, nice and early He went out to smell the dew.
(There wasn't any Church then, so He'd nothing much to do).
He wandered to the potting-shed, behind the Tree of Life,
And got his spade and trowel out, His fork and pruning knife.
He looked after Eden, and He watched the lilies grow,
And Eden's still a Paradise where gardeners can go.

Who mowed the lawns of Eden? God mowed the lawns and more,
Adam couldn't help Him, for his rib was still quite sore.
The beasts that God created never helped in any way,
The lion lay down with the lamb, bone idle all the day.
God built all the trellises for clematis to climb,
Cut back the wisteria and trained the columbine.
He pruned all the fruit trees: apple, peach and pear,
He had so many jobs to do, you always find Him there.
So if I get to Heaven, I'll just ask Peter if I can
Potter about in Eden, just to help out the Old Man.

Cashew

Here's a story I didn't write for my blog but then remembered I haven't posted anything in a very long time, so decided to share it with you.

Cashew lay silently on her back, gazing up at the shadowed ceiling, wondering why on earth she had been named after a nut. When all of a sudden it dawned on her, as the sun crept through the windows, Cashew realised that she had to make a name for herself. What was the use of having such an off centre name if she wasn’t going to use it to her advantage? So she hopped out of bed, got dressed, brushed her teeth and did all those other routine things that normal people with normal names do in the morning, before stuffing a backpack full of clothes and food and declaring to her mother that she was “going on a wild adventure that no one has ever dreamt of” her mother said “be back in time for supper, dear” and Cashew swung her bag around her shoulders, leaving the house with nothing but excitement on her mind.
Standing outside in the morning air, the long grass under her elf like boots, Cashew came to the conclusion that there was no adventure to be had. She looked across the grassy field, it stretched on as far as she could see. It would be tiring to push through and she doubted it would ever end, but she’d promised herself an adventure and she never broke her word. She adjusted the straps of her backpack picked up a suitable sized stick to aid in walking, and set off.
“Once I’ve seen beyond the grassy field I’ll be famous and everyone will know my name!” she declared aloud to herself “when they hear the name ‘Cashew’ they will no longer laugh, they will instead be reminded of me and the greatness I have achieved!” it didn’t occur to Cashew that the world may already extend beyond her village, that there may actually be other civilisations beyond what she could see. But she was an explorer and was determined to be the first to discover the world beyond her town. Leaving her family and friends behind, she began her journey to “whatever it is that lies beyond the grass!”

After walking nonstop for several intense and exhausting minutes, Cashew threw her bag to the ground and lay on the ground staring up at the sun, she wondered “how long will it take for me to go blind if I continue staring at the sun like this?” but as her eyes began to sting and water she made the wise decision not to venture any further and find the answer. She rubbed her eyes until a gentle hand touched hers and a voice said “staring at the sun like that will make you blind.” Cashew opened her eyes and found a boy standing over her, his hand was outstretched to help her up, she took it and clumsily stood beside him. His hand was twice the size of hers, but he didn’t look nearly as old as her dad.
“Thanks” she said “I just wanted to know how long it would take”
“How long what would take?” the boy asked conversationally
“For me to go blind” she answer “but it hurt too much and I couldn’t bear it any longer”
“I’m not surprised”
“That I was so silly?”
“No. That you gave up”
“I didn’t ‘give up’ I just decided I would rather keep my vision than find out the answer”
“That, you see, is the reason why no one knows the answer. The smarter of us just presume we’ll go blind if we look at the sun, and don’t really care about discovering the answer to your query”
Cashew thought momentarily about questioning him, and arguing that maybe staring at the sun has never even been a cause of blindness. But she felt intimidated by the young man and began to nervously twiddle with the plastic Barbie watch around her dainty wrist.
“What are you doing all by yourself out in this open field anyway? Anything could happen to you and nobody would know” the man had managed to change Cashew’s outlook of a marvellous adventure down a path of self doubt.
“I... um... just wanted to go exploring?” she hoped very much for his approval
“Well you shouldn’t go alone. I wouldn’t want anything bad happening to you” but it was no fun anymore, he had taken the spontaneity and excitement away. “What were you thinking of doing?” he asked, half curious but half in anticipation to get it over with. This made Cashew feel rather stupid, how could she say ‘I was just going to roam around anywhere hoping something exciting would happen,’ he would just think her a fool.
“I’m.... looking for my pet dog...”
“Did he run away? I thought you said you were exploring?”
“Oh... yeah. Um, I’m exploring around to find my lost dog” she was partially satisfied with this response, as it seemed to give her an air of purpose although it didn’t fully support her ‘I just wanted to go exploring’ statement from earlier on, and she knew he was aware of that.
“Right then. Let’s get looking. We don’t want to boil away under the sun” the man began to scan the field with his eyes as he walked forwards. At least her adventure had some sense of direction now, Cashew concluded that this was a good thing, and happily followed the clever boy.
“Spot!” she called to the sky so their search would appear more genuine, he soon mimicked her calls. She was pleased that calling her (however imaginary) dog’s name had been seen as a good move to make.
“What’s your name by the way?” the man asked, after a tiring day of walking forwards and calling to nothing.
“Lucy” Cashew replied, for she didn’t think her name would sit well with the man.
“mm, that’s fairly ordinary” he said with a gentle smile. She wished she’d told him her real name, maybe he would have said ‘wow! That’s very unique and special! I love it’ but no, she had to lie. She was now seen as dull and ordinary and it was entirely her fault.

“I’m just going to go over there for a moment, I’ll be back shortly” the man informed her, pointing towards an identical area of never ending grass just over to the left. The town was no longer in sight, and the sun was beginning to set. Cashew didn’t ask what he was doing, in fear that his sentence would end with ‘...what else would I have been doing, you stupid child.’ He walked so far to the left that, in the hazy black sky, Cashew could no longer see him. She began to think about what he’d said earlier about something bad possibly happening to her if she were alone. The day had been warm, but the night was chilly. The moon shone bright enough that Cashew could make out the intricate details of the friendship bracelet around her ankle. This ignited her on a whirlwind of thoughts: if you wear a bracelet around your ankle is it still a bracelet? Do you call it an anklet even though it was made as a bracelet? Why can’t I tell which threads are purple and which are green in this light? Why is it that the night changes brightness and also colour? Does the sun hold all the colour? She continued to wonder as little girls do, until, very suddenly, she was knocked forward by a galloping horse.

“Shit! Sorry” said a voice, a tanned boy with dark hair swung off his horse and gently helped Cashew to her feet. He looked at her with a pure honesty, she could see into his soul and it was clear he didn’t mean to hurt her for he obviously cared. “Are you hurt? Would you like me to give you a ride on my horse? Where are you off to?” he asked tenderly, he looked at her as if he’d never cared about anything more in his entire life. Like she was special.
“No no” she reassured him “I’m fine”
“You’re shivering” he exclaimed “why didn’t you tell me? Here, take my jacket” and without waiting for her response, he gave Cashew his puffy brown leather coat.
“Thanks”
“What are you doing out here?” he asked, genuinely curious and genuinely concerned
“I was going to go on an adventure”
“Sounds fun! I’d be up for that” Cashew loved that he liked her for who she was and wondered if the other man would have been the same if she’d been honest, but then she remembered how intimated he had made her feel.
“Would you really!? We should go on an adventure together”
“Do you often go on adventures?” he asked
“No, I never have before”
“Then this will be your first real adventure?”
“Yeah, I suppose it will be! We’ll have to make it fun and exciting”
“Fun and exciting is my specialty!” he smiled and winked at her and she felt very content within herself.
“I love your horse” she commented, feeling that she could say anything without being negatively judged
“Why thank you” he bowed “she is the horse of the night, I call her Nightmare”
“She’s beautiful”
“Do you want to ride her?”
“I would love to ride her! That would be very fun and exciting!”
And with that he jumped upon his black mare and swept Cashew up with his hand. As they galloped off into the night Cashew remembered the other man and worried about whether he would feel left behind, but she figured he hadn’t really liked her that much anyway and would probably be better off without her around.

After only a very short while she noticed that the grass land was coming to an end and could see a forest just over in the distance
“Oh! Look! The grassland does end! This is a great adventure” she cried, holding onto his waste so she wouldn’t slip off the lighting fast horse.
“This is only the beginning my lovely” he announced and they sped even faster towards the tall trees. “What’s your name by the way?”
“Cashew”
“Bless you”
“Haha, no, that’s my name!” she laughed
“It’s sweet” he said earnestly. She was so happy she could fly. They were soon at the forest and the pair of them were very excited. He flung her off the horse and they went running about in the forest, she felt as free as a bird and didn’t hesitate to hold back as she leaped about and absorbed how wonderful the forest was. It was during this time, however, that she remembered her mother’s warnings ‘be back by supper,’ it was now long past supper, it was long past bed time. If only she’d stayed with the other man, he would have got her safely home. Even though she couldn’t be honest or herself around him, he would surely have made certain she got home in time. Now she was more worried than she ever had to be, she no longer even felt safe. She knew she couldn’t trust this boy.
“What’s wrong?” the boy asked
“I think I should go home now”
“But we’ve only just started having fun! There’s so much more I need to show you” but Cashew had never wanted to go beyond what was beyond the grass field, she had merely wanted evidence that it ended. She knew it would be fun to stay but never the less it was too much excitement for her to deal with, she was already late and would have to go home.
Without question he saddled up Nightmare and took Cashew home

“Goodnight. We’ll have to do something fun and exciting again someday” she said as she stumbled off his horse and handed him back his jacket
“No problems. I’ll catch you round” he waited until she was safely inside her house and then galloped off into the night. She doubted he would even remember her, he would continue to go on many adventures without her. Cashew felt bad. Not bad as in sick or upset, but bad as in naughty. Her mum felt much the same. She went to bed straight away without supper.

The next morning there came a knock at the door. “It must be the boy with the horse!” Cashew thought when her mum announced that it was for her. But it wasn’t. It was the other man. She was very excited to see him, although she couldn’t fathom why, he seemed a much better friend to have than the ridder of Nightmare
“Hi Lucy” he said sweetly, smiling gently “I just wanted to say sorry for walking off so far. I hope you’ll forgive me, I never meant to abandon you”
“That’s fine, I understand” she said, feeling incredibly guilty for abandoning him and running off with the other boy. She wished very much that she hadn’t left him behind, even if it meant she may not have seen the forest.
“My name isn’t Lucy, by the way” she added impulsively “It’s Cashew” for a second he was confused and shocked, but then he said “I wish you’d told me that earlier...that’s the most wonderful name I’ve ever heard, and I shall never forget it for as long as I live.”