I've noticed how rare conversations can be. that for all the conversations that manifest amongst the people you meet how rare, like a spark or a shimer of gold amongst the fall are the ones that are purely about life itself- about 'meaning'. and these, these realisations are what i live for. you notice, how you can talk with a friend for hours circling around the same repetetive words about the events of the day but feel there is nothing to say, but there is something that always needed to be said, no satifaction in the conversation because it itself, the feeling is not recognisable. this trait or characteristed and you did, you knew without knowing you needed to say it.
I realised the reason of part of why I was bored at school. because the conversations are all merely (fluff), that really in all, mostly they talk about nothing. it is not that the people at school aren't nice, they just aren't, or do not fully objective of their world. they carry along without noticing anything. and truely believe in what they are told. what society tells them they are and who they have to be. but the harder part is we catch a glimpse of these circumstances-these almost coincides, or more; these experiences, these subtle changes of emotion or reaction to experience or even just the experiences themselves that cannot fully be defined or even put to some point of clarification. we are always experiencing yet not always do we become fully realised on the subject.how often our lives, our speech, our worlds revolve around the events that happen and not on life itself. sometimes you catch these glimpses of reality, or these things which we are living for, which in a way i feel is the whole meaning. to find clarification, but also to share these epiphanies as the enjoyment of life seems holds in these clues. in this understanding of experience. it seems there are several types of learned. one, in acemdemics. of knowledge as in facts and figures of the universe. and i use to wish i knew all these things. but at the same time it does not feel like true knowledge. true knowledge is already known just has not been realised. it is the opposite in a sense because it is the knowledge of life, and mostly not written down. discovered then lost in a minute of perfection. i wish i kept a pen and paper with me always. or a tape recorder to record all the things that are said.
there was a moment of connection, of realisation today of what we both know, or more the differences in me to the other kids at school. its not something false or trivial this though, asif i am above any of them but just that i have always been considered different. and i always do. whoever im with. still, mostly never completely safe or comfortable. whitney saw me with the book of disquiet which i now consider my bible. but he said he chose it for the library. and was amazed, but also really not surprised that i'd picked it up and thought it was such an amazing book. he said it was one of his favourites and has read it over and over again. though, i liked to read it more at random as each reflection (ahh! that is the word i have been looking for) is useful. maybe, this, "reflection" is what im looking for, as im trying to describe this almost out of body experience which I find so completely neccessary for living. for without it, it living feels not to be living at all.
it feels that the circumstances of life do not really matter, though i do believe in what aristotle said that there are neccessities in life that you need such as weath to flourish to be happy. these being for example- food and water and shelter. i notice that happiness does not come from this as to be truely happy one must see this as a stage, a play and in doing so enjoy every part of the creation. but that in wealth of experience- of knowledge, but then again things like personal discipline in life as being neccessary for some kind of spiritual evolution is neccessary and therefore material circumstance - as in status in society or just of the kind of being you wish to become, in this, circumstances can represent personal evolution. this reminds me of something i had a conversation about with a friend called fay where i found that self- worth plays such a large part in what kind of circumstances you are in and what kind of person you are. that one can not beiieve they can do it, and therefore everything being based on ones own belief systems. but then again what you (believe) effects everything. and then even what you believe in about yourself isn't really true as all is transient and everchanging and one can be anything if one chooses and puts their mind to it. though this applies more mentally than physically. but i noticed also something significant. that we apply most of any judgement of action or pursuit on what we are capable of. but what i meant was my own personal new worth placed in the virtue of courage. of having courage to be capable. or even have courage to 'become' capable. this i noticed applied with school for instance. in that, I did not see this in school or anything unless i had a real yeaning to become good at it. and in noticing this, that i should have, say with writing in literature practised, though im no good at writing, that i should have chosen to have the courage to be capable. so just in everything i do i find just from this a new light will play on whether i will attempt those challenges or obstacles that are placed or whether i will fall defeated to fear of, or the effort of having to try. mostly this year i found i had given up. rather than becoming completely involved in the life of school and trying i continued, but in my heart my head i gave up. i had no effort to try as it had become stagnant, only to be a jail, as it was not what i wished to be doing in the first place. a downward spiral of wanting the freedom to do what i wanted and follow my heart my dreams. though never being able to be free and therefore, sitting, wasting time in the waiting line.

It's strange how happy I've become. I can't explain it. It's like, in realising that i'm living, actually living - everything becomes estacy, suddenly I'm watching dust turn to gold in the light. and i know everything will be okay that somehow it will all turn out right.I'll hold my fate in someone elses hands, and treat triumph and disaster just the same. and I won't be afraid. the world is mine and everything in it.and i know every possibility, every freedom tangible, only a glimpse a fragment away. everytouch, smell taste is mine and it is so amazing. I no longer care to be the fool.

a little while ago I went through this delicate phase, being in love with Tchaichovsky. In June for my birthday, my Grandma is taking me to me to see Graeme Murphy's the Nutcracker.

as yarraville has grown even more charming in these past few years, I have become increasingly delighted and proud of my little home town. suddenly we have a collection of little italian resturants and cafes, an organic fruit shop, the sun theatre, tiny bookshops, lingerie stores and old marita's jewelery store. of late I have been spending my time in lovely HausFrau.

when people ask what music I listen to I never can reply. the answer alludes me. I don't know where to begin.

I guess I feel lonely. I don't know where I belong. I have friends but none that are like me, none that I like. none that think for themselves. lately I'm more quiet than usual. and I don't mind. its what keeps me going. I'm waiting for winter.

I completely adore Beirut.

this is a photo I took of my best friend, taken at my mad hatter's tea party last june. Missing her dreadfully (she is on her gap year) I have decided to post it, she is everything I love and more.

these girls remind me of me. a very sweet band. the film clip captures everything I adore about novelty and childish enthusiasm, and the reason I want to be living overseas- so I can have those woods to wander under.

stumbling upon a Jane's 'Pure Blog', now has turned into one of those cycles of patience. finding that she writes a new post about every two weeks I subconciously alse time fomyself of when to check r a new post. this small delight always adds to brightening my day. I have read every one of her posts now, even borrowing some of her beautiful photographs to draw in my botanical study of flora for art.

this film is my favourite at the moment. everytime I think of seeing/hiring out a film I compare it to this one. and nothing is as good. though nothing really happens throughout the entire film, there is this unusual naturality about it, which captures those intricacies of life. Inspired by Albert Lamorisse's, children's classic THE RED BALLOON (1956)a short in which a young boy, played by his son, makes friends with a red balloon - THE FLIGHT OF THE RED BALLOON is about a struggling single mother (Juliet Binoche) living in Paris, doing her best to raise her seven-year-old son, Simon (Simon Iteanu), while preparing her latest puppet show. the lighting and performance is exquisite. and I catch myself dreaming of france.