I fervently believe that there is meaning in everything. I also believe that we alone control how we respond to any event or person in our lives. I believe people come into our lives for a reason. And that, although it may seem senseless when they leave us, they leave us their essence that is purer and more potent than any earthly presence. I believe we are here for such a short time, that we have to love and live with everything that we are. I believe that the saddest things that have happened to me in my life, are also in a way, some of the most beautiful, because with them I have learnt who I love, what is important to me , who I am. And that piercing pain, that spears you to your core, leaves a chasm through which sunlight will eventually pour in. I believe I am a good person, but I can always be better. I believe as I get older, I am stronger, and yet more frightened. I believe that this exact moment is perfect, that it is a wonder just to be flesh and water and substance, to have a receptacle for this soul, to look at others and wonder what it is like to be them, and know that they are so infinitely different to me.

A street name flashes up on the computer screen at work and it hurts. A particular model of car drives past me on the street, and that hurts. And I want to wash my mushrooms instead of rubbing them, and I can't, and I could weep. And I laugh and I've stolen that laugh. And it hurts, oh god it hurts. But that's okay, I want to feel all of it. I want to cry myself to sleep. And wake up, with the dawn spraying my pyjama clad body in hope.

Walking home in bare feet helps

So does being really busy, so does having a sister living in Wellington now, so does having friends that come and check on me when i'm on my own for too long, so does being able to laugh at myself, even my apparent incompatibility with the opposite sex, so does feeling strong enough to accept that there are some things that are such an innate part of you, you recognise that you won't compromise them, no matter how much you'd like to....

Maybe I am tough.

I am standing at an intersection, waiting for the lights to signal red to the traffic so I can cross. And a leaf, crunchy and furled, is tossed by the wind in to the centre of the two lane road. And I am nudging it with my eyes, willing another gust of wind to whisk it up out of harms way, to take it out of my sight, to blow it to the back of my mind. But it is sitting there shivering, vulnerable as a small child, it's sienna shell a stark contrast to the shark-grey bitumen, and the cars are bearing down upon it, and it leaps from left to right to escape the rubber, but the revolutions are merciless, I watch transfixed, as little shards break away emitting painful shredding sounds, whimpers. And then the traffic light pulses the green signal and my heels chatter irreverantly over where the leaf had fallen. I forget it's shattered corpse before I reach the footpath on the other side.

Did I do that?

I have done something, so shocking I can't even write about it. I hope you understand.

Chilean sister moves to Wellie this weekend. I'm quite excited about having the whanau in the capital.

I had a valentines dinner, although i don't really want to celebrate valentines, i had a really nice night. Still no card though. Maybe i'm not the kind of girl that guys give cards?

Right gotta wipe this green muck off my face and get some shuteye. I really have to start taking over the world tomorrow if i'm going to make any progress before my holiday.

My mum wore jandals

I guess she wore other shoes too,
but mostly I remember her in jandals,
I can hear the sound of them slapping the cobblestones outside my bedroom window,
at a habitual pace,
soothing,
And I can see her spryly moving about in the backyard in those jandals,
under the washing line,
pushing the lawn mower,
Or I can see one jandal crossed over the other,
as she sits pensively on the patio,
puffing away on a cigarette, her little pinky curled daintily
like she is taking high tea
One jandal will drum the air delicately,
as we talk,
I can see her walk away from me, with my little brother in tow
the jandals setting a pace fit for a four year old
as they stroll off down the street hand in hand
I can see the jandals propped up on the footrest of the wheelchair
sendentary, of ornamental value now
and then they sit forlorn, forsaken at the doorstep
for a time,
I wear them, but
I'm not sure what became of them.

The Return of the Jimmy

Back by popular demand, I caught up with the double hard bastard himself last night. And I think he has got even tougher, not surprisingly living with Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum the evil twins. We had a very nice bbq dinner, with Tweedle Dee bbqing with characteristic regimental precision, all the sausages lined up in a row standing to attention, and the eggplant cordoned off in it's own corner of the hot plate lying perfectly flat as if it is afraid to look disorganised (which I'm sure would be a court martial offence in that house). But it is a nice place, not what you'd envisage your run of the mill bachelor pad to be like, with expansive views of the city and harbour, a very yang feature wall, and storage space that makes me drool. Meanwhile I look at my own unvacuumed floor......perhaps I need a house husband.

Around the world in slightly less than 80 days

Let me introduce you to a new character to Pixietale. Her name is Sally. She is my travel buddy. Well, there will be 4 of us for the first couple of weeks. But tonight Sal and I met and did some planning. This looks like the direction of our voyage thus far:

Auckland, LA, NY, Philadelphia, NY, London, Ireland, Edinburgh, London, France, Spain, France, Italy, Croatia, Austria, Czech Republic, Germany, Netherlands, Belgium, London, Tokyo, Bangkok, Sydney, Home.

Does that sound pretty good?

I will come back potentially jobless and penniless. And be a real dirty hippy. I said to Sally tonight, after a couple of wines, that perhaps we'd go away girls and come back women. She could tell I was being a dick, but she's totally up for it. She came back with, yeah, it's a pity we weren't in Thailand for longer, we could go away women and come back men.

I'm looking forward to travelling with her.

A dragonfly only lives for 24 hours

Or maybe less. I dressed up at one of our parties, Halloween themed, but only Bear and I really dressed up. Oh, and the now expectant parents. Who weren't expecting back then. Who now think they could be having twins. But anyway, I dressed up as a gypsy fortune teller, it was when I first chopped off my hair, but I liked it that time, and I'd just bought my bbq, Lauren was turning 24. I wore the bottom half of that dress that i bought that was kind of chinesey, but knit at the top, and puffy and silky at the bottom. Except not silk. I dunno maybe polyester.

So I was a fortune teller, so first I needed a tent. Some fabric draped from the ceiling over the back of our couch. And some dim lighting. And some tarot cards. A sultry mysterious voice. Rather than using the book accompanying the cards (I didn't want to look like a novice) I just made stuff up. And I abused the intimate knowledge I had of my friends and their lives to tell them what I really thought in a mystical and guiding way.

My crazy old flatmate was still in NZ that night instead of in Columbia where she's been for awhile, and I told her some shit about the dragonfly only being on earth for a very short time and making the most of life. Which was kind of mean, when I think about it, as you could interpret that as meaning pretty soon you're going to die. But i just meant it to be motivating. She got really psyched about it, thought that I could see the future (hey, I'm pretty convincing when i want to be) and then got quite mad when she realised I was a phoney.

I think I had a point though.

Mr Bear has got a scholarship to a Canadian College. So he will be whisking Bear off with him towards Spring (September). And my little flat will be broken up. And I will go overseas for eleven weeks, and come back and they might have gone. And who will live in the little room down the hall then?

I alluded to the dragonfly, because it seems to me that things are speeding up, that a six week summer holiday when I was a child is now just a morning at work. I'm 25 going on 30 going on 40 going on 50. My mum didn't even make it past 44.

It makes you think. (sorry for the crappy Victoria University reference. The photo is where I went to school. It's not all this pretty.