ReflectionnoitcelfeR

See what I did there?  I made it up because this poem is a Reflection on my own reflections. And I thought I'd be clever and make a title where there is a reflection of "Reflection' to reflect the reflectivness of my own reflections.

My heart.

I saw that i was critical
that I pulled people apart
without love and
analysed their flaws
and worst of all, I was proud
of this.

I called it
"being honest" and
"not being naive anymore" and
"being a writer"

Then my conscience pricked me
and I thought I should
watch my mouth
to stop the criticism
rolling so smoothly
sharply
from my tongue.

But that would mean
living a lie
where ugliness is trapped
between my heart and my mouth, for
'out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks'
Produced in spades,
yet denied access to the world

so, I'm asking you, Jesus,
to change my heart

Then I noticed that I
got angry
when people misunderstood
and placed me in a tidy little box.
I got angry when I was used
and misused, and when
I felt helpless.

Far more angry than when I read
about abuse
and children being killed.
Far more than when I watched on the news
the story of a sex-slave.
Far more than when I was told
about thousands of babies
murdered in the womb.

I've got my priorites
'real mixed up'
it seems.

So, I'm asking you Jesus,
to change my heart.

I like to write
about feeling deeply
about thinking deeply
about longing for change
But it's much harder to
do something,
to say something,
to go a step further,
to share my inmost with
an unfriendly world.
People in poems are so much easier
to control.
sometimes I get scared that all my ambitions
will only go as far
as the page.

So, Jesus, while you're at it
How about changing as much as
you can?

The causes of Flirting-related anger.

It started with a friend on Facebook demanding of our blogging group;  “Give me something to read”.  And the thing to read was a post from the Social Issues Research Centre (SIRC), titled SIRC guide to flirting.  Now I know what you’re thinking, so OK here’s the URL, you can go and browse to your hearts content. http://www.sirc.org/publik/flirt.html

What followed was a rather long thread of discussion on the values/relevance/hilarity/ridiculousness/accuracy of such a guide. The guide itself was, well, funny to start with.  But the further I read, and the more seriously the authors seemed to be taking themselves, the more angry I got.  Until finally I snapped at a fellow commenter and used the J word: Jeepers.  That’s pretty serious for me.

I remember being told that anger is always a sign that something isn’t right.  And so I had to think:  what exactly was it that triggered this anger in me? 

I didn’t have a problem with a bit of an analysis of the way people flirt – it can be pretty funny really to look at yourself and others and pull to pieces the funny little quirks that surface when we’re trying to gain and hold the attention of the opposite sex.

I didn’t even have a problem with a guide.  I’ve been to multiple ‘relationship sessions’ at camps and youth groups over the years where it has definitely been helpful to hear how boys think, and, you know, just to allay some of the common fears or misconceptions about flirting/dating/being friends….

I suppose that our personality types have a lot to do with how we read an article like this.  Someone commented “don’t people just make this kind of stuff up?’, while others were searching for more, in depth explanations.  And me?  I was getting angry.

I was angry because I really hate being labelled. and grouped.  and expected to fit into a certain mold.  And I don’t think I do that to my friends either.  I try to understand who my friend IS.  and to interpret the way they act based on what I know of them.  If I don’t understand, then, if they’re a friend that I’m serious about keeping, I’ll ask.

One friend might  say ‘I’m quitting my job”, and I know they’ve had a bad day so I just need to listen and let them vent.  Another friend might say the same thing and I know I need to probe a bit deeper and find out about exactly what went wrong, because they won’t spell it out, but they want me to know-  I just have to ask the right 30 questions to get there (Drives me crazy but I love ‘em).  Another friend says “I’m quitting my job” and they just want me to laugh and say “awesome, I think I’ll quit mine too.  Shall we run away to Greece together?”  because that’s all they need.

And I know this because I know my friends.  I know this because we have spent time together and because we’ve talked about many different things, seen each other on many types of days, and most of all, because I’ve made mistakes.  There are times when I’ve put my foot in it, reacted in the wrong way to the wrong person.  and I know that next time I need to react differently.  Sometimes I even have to apologise.

The thing with a guide, is that it’s just that.  A guide.  It’s not the oneandonlyvoiceofauthorityonallrelationshipsbetweenmembersoftheoppositesex.  When I was younger and made one of those lists about my ideal guy (MUCH younger, I'll have you know), one of the bulletpoints was : ‘He mustn’t make jokes about *sigh*…women!’  It was important even back then.  I’m my own person, and I’d like to be treated that way.

Two stories:  A couple of years ago, I went to a friend’s 21^st at the Southern Cross bar.  I didn’t know too many others, so just sat quietly, and kind of timidly on one side of the room.  Eventually this guy with a crazy old-school pilots hat came and chatted to me.  I can’t really remember  how he opened his conversation, but we chatted for a bit and I asked him about his hat – I mean it was staring me right in the face as a conversational topic.  Later in the evening after a few more pints, he told me that he actually wore this hat as a conversation starter with girls.  I felt really cheap – because I had fallen for his ploy.  And I felt like I’d been manipulated, in a sense.  I felt like his conversation with me was planned – down to the costume – which, if I hadn’t already disregarded most of hwat he said due to his high level of intoxication, would have made me think I couldn’t trust him anyway. It made me want to not even be polite to him any more. (He was far beond the use of the word Jeepers)

A couple of days ago, I was chatting to a guy at the bus stop.  We talked about the weather.  And you know what.  NO MATTER WHO IT IS, I always respond with more than one word when they say ‘nice day isn’t it?’.  Because I feel rude if I just shut them down with a ‘yes’ or ‘no’.  From my perspective, I was just having a friendly conversation with a neighbour, killing time while waiting ten minutes for the bus and then 25 for the train.  I did give him my number, because he didn’t have many friends, and he told me about an event coming up that I might like to go along to.  (maybe that bit was just naïve, or plain stupid), but for the rest of it, I was just friendly – normal friendly, probably even a bit reserved because I had only just met him.  By lunchtime, he had already rung me to ask how my day was and to introduce me to…his MOTHER!!  (Who, by the way, is very pleased to meet me over the phone, and is looking forward to the day when we can meet face to face). ARGH!

So, after rambling in various directions for the last few paragraphs, let me come back to my point.

“I dislike thinking about relationships in such a regulated manner”.  Relationships can’t be modelled by a mathematical equation or a set of rules.  Relationships have to be governed by relationship!  They’re not going to be perfect, never.  But they’ll never even be good if you can’t be yourself.  I wrote my own guide to flirting right here.  I kind of think of this as the same as A Guide to Meeting Someone For the First Time Whom You May Want to Become Friends With As Time Goes On:

1. Be in the moment:  Don’t be worrying about where this will lead, or what you should say next.  Enjoy right now.  think about what you’re talking about right now.  Appreciate what the person is saying right now.  Friendships can’t be forced, they are built out of many ‘now’ moments.*

2. Enjoy yourself:  A friend has to be someone who you are relaxed with.  Of course, you won’t be 100% relaxed when you meet someone for the first time, but don’t try to hide away parts of your personality or try to fit yourself into a certain mold of behaving.  People respond to genuineness, not so much a standard model.  So make the jokes about what you think is funny, give your honest opinion, ask the questions you are interested in about them. 

3. Don’t beat yourself up:  Like I said, relationships are full of making mistakes (if it’s not one person, it’s the other). If someone isn’t enjoying your conversation as much as you are, it doesn’t mean you are hopeless in social situations and can’t hold a conversation for the life of you and you need remedial help.  It means – you should go and talk to someone else!  Seriously, we aren’t all going to click immediately with everyone, so cut yourself some slack.  If it’s someone who you’re already friends with, just address it directly. Or, go and talk to someone else! (and then come back later…) I HATE playing games and beating round the bush trying to guess whether someone is mad at me, or has had enough of me, or likes me.

I guess you can draw your own conclusions about how successful my guide has been J

*of course there is a time (in romantic relationships) where it makes sense to be forward-thinking.  To be in agreement as to where the relationship is actually headed.  But, I don’t think that the first few meetings, ‘flirting’ stage is the time.

There.  I think I have more to say, but that is all for now.  I might just spend the rest commenting on other people’s blogs that are about to emerge out of the woodwork.

Contentment

When I was 12, I used to think about what I would be like when I was 16: Tall, svelte,tanned, with long gorgeous hair, spending my summers at the beach surrounded by my posse of equally gorgeous compadres, and trailed by dozens of admiring buff surfy boys.  I’m not sure why I really thought this was how it would be, I didn’t even watch that much TV.

Actually, when I was 16, I was pretty short, a little bit podgy, pimply, widely liked but definitely not in the ‘popular crowd’...and possibly a bit geeky.  I used to think about what I would be like when I was 20.  Turning up to church on a cold winters morning, hair still gorgeous and long, but mostly straight and tame and pulled back softly to reveal soft pink cheeks and big brown eyes.  My brown coat would be buttoned up to my chin, and my fingers were interlaced with those of a faithful boy – loved by my family and who was probably just about to ask me to marry him, after we’d been going out for 2 years.

Actually, when I was 20, I  mainly wore trackpants and hoodies.  I turned up to church by myself – usually windswept and a little worse for wear after walking for 55 minutes to avoid a bus fare.  Calling my hair tame would have been a big fat lie.  I was a math student, I didn’t really like my degree, I had decided that I never wanted to marry and have children because I was scared that I would settle down and become complacent, and get tied up in the trivialities of every day life and forget about the big picture, and what I really wanted to do most of all was to change the world.

When I was 21, I used to think about what I would be like when Ieft uni.  How I would go to the gym, and have a coffee shop where I could order ‘the usual’.  How I would own a car, and go on roadtrips, and travel overseas.  How I would be an influential figure.  How Iwould change the shape of my workplace, my city, my nation, my world.  How everyone would love me, and applaud me and I would go down in history books as a mover and shaker.

Actually, when I left uni, I spent a year doing an internship with an international student Christian group.  I could barely afford a hot chocolate, definitely not a car.  I worked late nights and early mornings.  I said “yes” and I said “let me!”.  I felt like I gave and I spent without seeing many results.  I realised that I couldn’t change anyone.  Influence maybe, one or two.  But as for changing my city – that seemed like an impossible task, let alone changing the world.

When I was 23, I moved home.  Back to my parents, back to my old room, back to siblings and early nights and having my washing done for me.  Back to rent free accommodation and Mum’s cooking. You might not be surprised that this was where I learnt to feel content.  It does sound like a pretty good deal.

But  this wasn’t where I wanted to be – this wasn’t my plan for my life. I felt like it was back to square one.  the hopeless child who just can’t grow up and move away. I’d come home becasue I was exhausted, and teary, and overwhelmed by life, uncertain about the future and to be honest, pretty bleak about the present.  A couple of doctors visits, a few serious conversations and a lot of tears later, I was diagnosed with clinical depression.  It was a mouthful that was pretty hard to swallow.  It was a label I didn’t want to accept.

I felt like I’d failed somehow.  By letting myself get to this point. For about 6 months I couldn’t work – I was on a benefit.  I didn’t cook or clean or anything regularly, I was just blessed by my amazing family. I slept at 10 and didn’t wake up until 9.  I couldn’t handle social gatherings. To begin with I couldn't even read or paint.  I just lay on my bed and listened to the radio.  As my strength came back,   I wrote.  I read.  I watched movies. I sewed.  I walked.  I started going to the gym.  I saw a counsellor.  I prayed.  I visited my sisters.  I biked.  I sat in the sun.

The first 3 months were an incredible struggle.  I couldn’t just sit back and let my life pass me by.  I couldn’t be lazy, I couldn’t depend on others.  I had to do something.  I had to just get enough willpower together, and just pull myself together and be the person I wanted to be.  And so I fought against it.  fought against myself.

During this time, I was constantly going to God, hoping for something that would set me free to speed up my life again. And yet, all I sensed from my Father in heaven, was an overwhelming “it’s OK”.

wait, my darling

no, don’tstand up. I love to see you

unwound, letting go, forgetting the to-do list

I want to speak into your heart, breathe into

your heart.

It’s a delicate process – you have to be still

or you won’t hear the words I speak

so freely

It wasn't that he wanted me to be like this.  It was just that I had to get to a point where I relinquished my own control of the entire situation.  I think it took about 3 months before I started learning to let go.  To wait.  To enjoy right now, and to not worry about what was ahead. 

I learned that I’m not many of the things that I always dreamed I would be, when I was 12.,but that I am many things that I never imagined.  And I heard God saying “it’s OK”.  In fact, that it’s more than OK-  because this is how He has made me, and he delights in THIS.

I learnt that sometimes, I can’t do anything.  That there are things much bigger than me, and that I’m not the Messiah.  And I hear god saying “It’s OK”, because He IS the Messiah, he’s the one who is changing the world, He’s the one who will use me as part of HIS plan (and not the other way around).

I learnt that I need other people.  That I need to share my weakness as well as my strength, and I hear God saying “It’s OK”.  It’s OK to be vulnerable, and  to rely on others sometimes.  It’s OK.

I learnt that I don’t have a lot of the answers.  There were things I thought I knew.  Especially about God and life, and now I don’t have the words to articulate them because I’ve realised that they’re bigger and gray-er and more complex.  And I hear God’s voice saying “it’sOK”, because He does have perfect answers, and one day I will understand, but in the meantime I can trust Him and know that he is good and loving, even though I don’t have the answers myself.

I learnt that  I can trust God even in uncertainty.  So as I look ahead to my future, although I have dreams and hopes, I don’t really know exactly what it will look like, I hear God saying “it’s OK”

I don’t dream of what I will be like in 10 years and think that I’ll be prettier and popular-er and more having-it-all-together, like I did when I was 12.  Because I think I’ve finally come to peace with where I am now.  

 Contentment isn’t complacency.  It’s not lack of dreaming, or hoping, or desiring more.  It’s not giving up and resting on your laurels saying, this is good enough.  It is seeing those things.  Seeing pain and distress.  Seeing potential and opportunity.  Seeing the people around you, the people beyond you.  Seeing yourself.  And hearing God say “it’s OK”.  It’s being ready so that when He tells you the next step, and shows you the door to push, you can do it.  You can feel the fear, the uncertainty and you can know “It’s OK”.  It’s realising that God is God, and there is no other.  That there is a time and season for everything under heaven, and that God will make everything beautiful in his time.  It’s OK.  He’s got this

Preach it sister! (Why do bad things happen to good people)

This is a long post.  But one which I think you will find thought-provoking at the very least.  I'm interested to hear your thoughts.  Agreements, disagreements, questions, answers...?

Driving conversations with my boss: Christmas eve, a friend made redundant, a hamper of groceries and chocolate scorched almonds.  Followed by a hurried exit and a collision with a fence.

“Is the universe against me she asked?  Because that story always reminds me not to do good deeds.”

 “Well, the law of cause and effect isn’t always played out immediately” I fumbled. “ I suppose it’s the age old question – why do bad things happen to good people”

“Yeah”, she agreed, and twisted slightly in her seat.  “So, do you have an answer to that one?”

‘Oh wise one’,I raged against myself ‘why dost thou always puttest thy foot in thy mouth, and speaketh before thy thinketh?  Why dost your mouth questioneth what thou can’t answereth?’

You can!  Screamed my brain – you do have an answer.   Jesus is the answer.  God!  The Bible!  You don’t screamed my heart!  It just doesn’t make sense.  When babies die, and children are killed, teenagers are raped, and young adults cut themselves so that they can feel something…anything.  When mums get cancer, when cars crash, when fathers are made redundant, when governments are corrupt, when families starve.  So long as there is depression and sickness and death and fear and abuse and despair in this world there are questions.  You can’t have all the answers.

And so, I paused before I said “I don’t think that it was meant to be like this.  But I think the world is in quite a mess”.

I wanted to say more.  I wanted to end with a message of hope.  I wanted to be able to explain why things happen and how to avoid it and reassure her that everything would be alright.  But I couldn’t and I didn’t, and I spent the rest of the day thinking about what I could have said, and what I should have said, and what I truly think is the answer to that question.

I’ve solved it (not all of it.  Just this one insy weensy tiny bit).  Bad things don’t happen to good people.  Because there are no good people.  Usually we describe someone based on how they are the majority of the time.  She’s nice – because she is polite, friendly and cheerful far more often than she is rude or angry.  But no-one imagines that she is never rude or angry, it’s just not very often, so, she’s nice.  He’s courageous – because whenever I see him he is standing up to the crowd, and fighting for his ideals, never backing down.  But no-one imagines that he never had quiet lonely moments of fear, doubt and questioning himself, it’s just not very often.  So, he’s courageous. 

And so we think she’s a good person – she volunteers, she’s nice to others, she really cares, she doesn’t swear, she smiles.  But no one imagines that she has never told a lie, never hated someone, never put someone down, or boosted herself at another’s expense.  Because there isn’t anyone like that.  So, by our definitions of ‘this outweighs that’, she is good.

Somehow, I think the definition needs to be different for good.  It can’t be a ‘most of the time’ thing.  Good has to be something pure – utterly and completely good.  I mean, if we’re talking about our world being good, we don’t want to just be talking about a few days, or even most of the days.  So long as there is some bad in the world, it’s not good! Right?

Bad things don’t happen to good people.  They happen to people.  Real, normal, a little bit messed up, people.  But that’s not the bit we’re really wrestling with.  I could pick 3 words out of that sentence.  Why. Bad. Things.

The reason I struggled to articulate this part is that I couldn’t seem to do it without sounding like the start of a sci-fi movie.  We, humankind, are in rebellion.   There is a ‘way things are meant to be’, and it’s not this.  I think we all know it.  Somewhere within each person is a yearning for something more.  More understanding.  More compassion.  More freedom.  More beauty.  More joy.  More laughter.  More healing.  More kindness.  More loyalty.  More love.  More—goodness.  It’s interesting that in the Biblical account of creation, God stands there at the end of each day, looks at all that he has made, and sees that it is…good.  Until the final day, the climax, the pinnacle where human beings are created in the image of God and God “saw all that he had made and it was very good” (Genesis 1:31)

That is the word he uses – good.  Not half-assed, ‘not too bad’,  she’ll-be-right-good.  But whole-hearted, completely amazing, there-is-nothing-wrong-with-this good.  That is how we were created.  That is how things were meant to be.

The story goes onward and downward to ‘the fall’.  The day when Adam and Eve chose to go against God, to choose their own way of doing things, their own opinions, their own self appreciation instead of God’s good plan.  ‘I don’t need anyone to tell me what to do’, may be right in the case of an over-bearing coach, or a domineering boss.  But I think it has turned out not-so-right, when it comes to an all-loving, all-knowing Creator God.  With rebellion entered chaos; death and disease, endings and pain, toil and trouble, double double.

Let me tell you where I’m headed.  This world today, as we know it, is flawed.  It is, as I so understatedly put it, ‘a bit of a mess’.  The result of years and years of humanity choosing self above good.  Of choosing short-term gain above good.  Of choosing ‘what is best for me’ and ‘what feels right without regard for others’ above good.  And so, in this world of mess, no matter who we are we are caught up in it. That’s the tough thing about a fallen world – it doesn’t discriminate.  ‘It’s the world we live in, God help us all”(Coach Yoast, Remember the Titans)

If I left it here (as I kind of did this morning), it’s a pretty hopeless situation.  and yet, in the same Bible that, to me, explains so clearly how we got into this predicament, lies a hope that this is not the end.

Jesus.

This is the bit where I was scared I might sound trite.  Although I don’t know why becasue Jesus ddin’t swan in whistling, clap his hands and say ‘put on your glad rags folks because I am the answer!’.  He didn’t dismiss or hide from pain – he stared it straight in the face. Jesus was poor, and humble in his beginnings.  He was a friend of the dregs of society, was often tired, overworked.  He was hounded by tiresome, aimless people, and was misunderstood by even his closest friends and family.  Jesus was publicly criticised and challenged by the most influential Jewish leaders of the day.  Eventually he was betrayed by one of his besties, subjected to cruel and unusual punishment, and crucified on an ugly Roman cross between two thieves.  THIS is the ultimate in bad things happening to a good person.  And in doing this, Jesus took on himself the consequences of our (all humankind’s) wilful rebellion.  In being fully eternal God, and yet fully mortal man – “Jesus took our sins on his body on the tree.”  In his resurrection, God vindicated him as His son, and made a way so that Jesus life on earth is just the beginning of a restoration of this earth to the goodness it was intended to be.

Jesus brought sight for the blind, cleansing for the lepers, forgiveness for the sinners, freedom for the demon-possessed.  These are foretastes of what is to come when one day God restores this world completely – and everything is good again.  In that day, there will no longer be bad things happening to good people.  There will no longer be bad things at all.  Just God; Father, Son and Holy Spirit, and his people; flawed and imperfect, yet redeemed by Jesus’ sacrifice, which, should they choose to accept it opens the door to life.  Good life.  Forever and ever and ever.

That.  That is what I wanted to say.  That is what I was trying to express.  If I’d had half an hour, maybe I would have got there.  I don’t want to minimise pain.  There are things in this world which SHOULD NOT HAPPEN.  There is evil and darkness, and sadness that can’t be described.  But, in my life experience, age 24, this is what I have found to be true.  I know that in the years ahead, this will be tested again and harder.  But I believe with all my heart that no matter how much I doubt, and rage, cry and question,  I will always find this to be true.  God is good, and he is there when bad things happen to people.  His goodness, his love, his faithfulness, his truth WILL be enough for whatever I face.  This is the hope I cling to.

Community

A selection of questions I asked myself about community;

• Is community intrinsically good, or can you have ‘bad’ community?
• Is there a difference between the local community, the global community, and community?
• Does it have to be hard?
• What the heck does it even mean?
• What does wikipedia say?
• WWJD?

Insightful answers I came up with;

Nothing.  And I’m frustrated.  Bleurgh.

Bulletpoints;

• Anywhere you have people, you have complexity and flaws.  You also have creativity and energy, and potentiality.
• Some people are easy to like, easy to get along with, easy to live with, easy to love.  Some people are hard.  Both kinds of relationships seem to be important.
• I’m going to think of community as a journey rather than a destination.  It’s the fact that as we pursue the ultimate of relationships that are completely restored to perfection, we travel with others.  And each moment of truly good, deep, life-giving connection is a signpost of what is to come.  While hurts and misunderstandings and words spoken in anger remind me that we’re not there yet.
• To be honest, Jesus probably wouldn’t be too worried about defining the word community.  I think he kind of summed up relationships in his “two most important commandments” speech.  Love God – with all your heart, soul, mind and strength.  And love your neighbour as you love yourself.  So in this community thing we can’t lose sight of ourselves and we can’t lose sight of others.  And at the very center – everything about our relationships has to flow from being totally in awe and in love with God.

My prayer;

O God of the Universe,

Great in power and rich in love.

Bring your kingdom here on earth

Just as it is in heaven.

Bring it in the beauty of friendships

Bring it in the smile of strangers

Bring it in the warmth of family

Bring it in the touch of understanding

Bring it in the joy of loved ones

Bring it in the cry of the unlovely

Open my eyes and my heart

So that every person I meet is

Another opportunity to

Love you and to love  them and to

Love me and to be

Ever more whole.

Because you are the author of

wholeness

Fail blog

Every now and then, I get to a point where I think 'Really PM? You're x years old, you really should have known better'. Like the time when I was 20 and I cut my own fringe, ending up with a little sprout of hair just above my ear that couldn't even be covered with a headband.

Today was such a time. I think I can pin the moment of revelation down to the very second. I was standing with one foot on my side of the fence, one foot on the neighbours. Lasagne for their hordes of visiting family in my hands and chicken wire fence tangled up in the crotch of my stockings. "I'm stuck" was what I thought. Quickly followed by "Hmm, I wonder how I can free myself without spilling the lasagne, attracting a crowd, or hindering my ability to have children". Without going into too much detail (I've probably already crossed the TMI boundary), I can tell you that once I realised my dignity was beyond saving it was relatively easy to loose myself from the chicken wire clutch. However, while I can say that I lived to tell the tale - unfortunately I can't say the same for my stockings. Successfully detangled, I brushed myself off, delivered the food offering to my neighbours, frantically praying that the topless Tokelauean teen who opened the door hadn't seen my escapade from his lounge window, and chattering away as if I hadn't a care in the world.

Note to self. Be VERY careful when climbing over chicken wire fences. Especially if you're short. And if you're wearing a skirt and stockings? DON"T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!

Laughing at myself is funny. It's refreshing. It keeps me sane.

Hypocrisy and Shame

I wrote that title so you would read this. First I want to share a poem that I penned on the train this morning. A most original title : Writing on the train. So, without further ado;

Writing on the train

between a solid wall of black
and a flying blurry forest
I write
Oh hello, person sitting next to me
peering over my shoulder trying
to catch a glimpse of what I’m doing
just in case I’m
a famous writer
yes. yes I am.
I see you blushing
Now you know that I know that
you know
you may as well
keep reading

in the tunnel now
and
solid black surrounds me.
One side the corporate world
One side the gloom that never sees the sun
Both equally dark. Symbolic.
Deep. Let’s reflect on that a little.

A butterfly peeks through
a gap.
flitters it’s wings above the collar
uncurls antennae to test the air
deciding it’s
safer to hide.

And here is Wellington
in all it’s glory
arrayed in golden splendour.
The towering turrets preceded
by glistening waves
verdant hills embrace
sapphire waters.
A gentle mist hangs
softly around Somes Island
and a ferry cuts a sharp angle
across the harbour

The train carriage empties out
as fast as a bucket
with a hole, dear Liza
and another day in the city
is begun.


Second: hypocrisy. I have a confession to make. I bought clothing at Glassons today *blush* *hangs head* *scratches self awkwardly* *shuffles feet* *Ahem!*

Every sprout of individuality in my heart curled up and died as I walked past rows of cardigans, Miss60’s dresses, and repeated colour schemes (I later resusicated them by walking in bare feet down Lambton Quay). I’m an op-shop snob. Sometimes I even see something in SaveMart that looks cool until the tag tells me it’s from Glassons (or, even worse, Supre) . No way am I buying something that 50,0000 other girls will be wearing, that is seriously uncool. Like, you know, whatever…

My dad is super impressed by my ability to put together a ‘snazzy outfit’ on a budget. Now, Pops is no fashion expert by any stretch of the imagination (you say the word ‘trendy’ and he goes running), but I think it’s kind of nice that he’s proud of his little baby’s dress-sense. So, now you see the heights from which I have fallen, I will explain – I needed black tights. Plain, basic,simple, common, black tights. And so I went to Glassons. I will not backpedal on my preference for second-hand treasures, but I thought I should give credit where credit is due. I can’t just turn up my nose in contempt of all things Glassons and then expect them to help me out in my hour of need. No. Right here, right now, I will admit that GLassons does very good black tights. Well pretty good. Enough said. That is all.

And finally we come to shame: I bought clothing at Glassons today (oh, wait, that was the last one…my bad) I was given a free DVD today, that was very cryptic in it’s marketing and cover information. The most I could deduce was that it contained graphic content, was endorsed by a number of recognisably Christian names, and it guaranteed to change my life…

OK, actually too sleepy to finish this tonight. I was going to have an early night, but I had to write. It’s a compulsion I tell you. we’ll talk more about shame tomorrow. G’ Night folks!