Shake It 2012

Regrets collect like old friends... no more. May the devils be forever shaken from our backs in 2012.

SB xx

there's a feeling in your bones

Children Collides song, "Loveless". Dedicated to John.  It's ok, because I think I finally get it. In this equation, I am Peggy and he is Donald Draper, and that is the way it's always going to be. And that is ok.

when your time has come and gone
when your final race is won
when the flowers kiss the trees
when the king is on his knees
when your eyes don't speak the truth
and denial is your muse
when your life follows a plan,
your convenience is banned

you're loveless, it's okay you've planned it well
you will be happy to know that I've moved on as well

when a lion has it's teeth,
and the sword rest in its sheath
when the liar plays the fool and the fool makes every rule

you're loveless, it's okay you've planned it well
you will be happy to know that I've moved on as well

you're loveless, it's okay you've planned it well
it's seem less, I already know you well

when you're alone with every one,
know a place to call the sun
there's a feeling in your bones,
you just might end up alone

when you're just so self assured,
now you're rotting at the core
when you're challenged by the truth,
find some friends who lie to you

you're loveless, it's okay you've planned it well...

SB xx

the home of grand delusion

Sometimes I like to imagine an alternate version of me. Like when someone talks about taking the train to work, and it is so far removed from my reality, that I think that person must lead an interesting life. I imagine myself in their shoes. Maybe I live in a charming little flat, all by myself.  It could be decorated with bright, quirky items - all thrown together with reckless abandon.  In this version, I have a vintage buggy sitting underneath my small roofed car port, which is surrounded by green garden, random flowers and herbs, all growing together in chaotic fashion.  I don't take the car to my nondescript job - on no, the petrol  is far too costly - I'm working in the city so I'm to take public transport. Maybe on the way, I'll listen to some music - hum to myself , or read a book, one that makes me seem terribly intriguing to the people who see me with it.  My train is always pleasant, no one is ever squished or forced to stand armpit to armpit. Maybe while I'm on the train, I'll meet someone nice to chat with - we'll talk about the weather, and my book.  I might share a smile with a handsome office worker who exits the train - we see each other most days; I'm sure we'll break the silence eventually - he's probably my soul mate, and he thinks I'm beautiful.

I get to my job - undoubtedly it's menial, but inspiring to me - maybe it's a funky book shop, or a sweet little cafe (in this reality my waitressing skills are great). On my lunch break I'll walk down to the park, seated on a bench, I will quickly eat my lunch and spend the rest of my time doodling words and wavy lines in my little notebook.  I like to write in my spare time.

I have a lovely little dog waiting for me at home, who wags her tail with great enthusiasm when she hears me unlocking the door - I can see her through the glass panel on my door. We listen to loud music, and dance around the kitchen as I make dinner - I'm a great cook. When the evening is done, we retire to bed - I read aloud awhile. When the room is dark, I lay awake in the quiet - reviewing my day, and thinking about tomorrow.  I think about how I'm a little lonely - but then I remember I am happy doing charming things in my charming home; the way I like - just me and my little dog. I remember life is easier without other people to worry about.  I'm like Bridget Jones, minus the booze, the smokes, the friends and the sex.

SB xx

Hits Me Like A Rock

My new favourite happy song.



SB xx

tv truths

"Sometimes, late at night, visited by dread and shame, I lie in bed and think about somebody else's life. I imagine the love that they're getting, and the relief that comes from being really known. The private pleasures they share. The friends they have and the pressures they don't. Their sense of importance. The satisfactions of their work. I imagine how fulfilled they are, how rich their life is. And in these moments, I feel empty and wanting.

Sometimes I think about someone else's life. I imagine all the love they do not have. I see the passion that's missing, the friends they don't know, and the awful pressures that crush them. In those moments, I realize how much I have. And how much I have to give."
— Enlightened, "Someone Else's Life"

I stumbled upon this quote, pulled from a show I have never seen. Something about these words grabbed me, because the first part - about feeling empty, well, that's me a lot of the time. But then, the second part makes me realise that maybe I don't need to have 'everything'... because in actual fact, no one does. And I guess, that makes it ok. And I guess, that makes me feel a little more 'normal' than I felt before.

As is always the case, we can't be sure what lies beneath someones surface - I barely even know my own truths.

SB xx

woman of letters: to the man who (will) change(d) my life

One of my favourite letters in the "Women of Letters" book is from Eddie Perfect, who writes a letter to the woman who changed his life - his partner. Some of the quotes that I just can't forget:

"I may have a melancholy, sentimental streak wider than the widest bits of the Murray, but I find writing love songs the hardest. There's no sting and no hurt. There's no river of tears to dip the bucket into. Love songs go in by the front door, and I've always scrambled in through the laundry window.."

"I don't know what a family is, how to define it, other than as a collection of people who bind themselves together and get weirder and weirder... I read there's evidence that the moon was created when a giant asteroid shaved a chunk off the earth. That's a family. A broken bit of rock that gets its own name and develops its own gravitational pull."

"you have to kick the can down the street - always kicking it forward no matter the can and no matter the street, just keep kicking it on down. Deadshits don't kick the can anywhere and stomp on your can and never push anything forward."

I'm not sure I've encountered the man who has changed my life, so, instead, I write the imaginary man who hopefully will.

To the man who will change my life,
First of all, where the fuck are you and why have you kept me waiting for so long? (Sorry, that was a little forward, wasn't it? I suppose you're going to have to get used to that.)

I'm not sure who you are, or how we'll meet - but I think I have a pretty good idea about the kind of man you are. For one, you'll be special - you would have to be to make a dent in my existence; plus, you'd have to be a certain kind of 'special' to put up with my irregular brand of shit. (Wow, I'm really selling myself here, aren't I?)

I think you'll be the quiet man in the corner - the one surveying the lay of the land. A people watcher, like me. Perhaps I'll catch your eye, on one occasion, because I'm not like the rest of the girls in the room - perhaps I'll hold your eye for the same reason.

My quirks will make you like me even more.  You will recognise that I am hard work (sorry, I am) - but you will be persistent, because you are the kind of man who understands that tenacity is rewarded.

You will lighten my heart like I have never known; you will believe in me; always, but especially during the times I don't recognise myself. Oh yes, you will be special indeed.

And for all your special-ness, I will confuse you, and challenge you - and maybe make you want to run away... but you never will.

You will make me laugh; you'll be the yin to my yang - the up to my down.

And, for all of this, I will give you my heart - because that is all I want to do. All I have ever wanted to do was find you - perfect you - and give you my time, my laughter, my love notes. I know you'll be perfect, because you'll be for me.

I really wish you'd hurry your ass up - you'll come to know that I am impatient. Find me soon, ok?

SB xx

Blue Christmas

I'm feeling a little 'blue' today - Christmas sort of snuck up on me, and I'm not quite ready for it. Watching this clip is helping my mood. What a star he was.

SB xx

woman of letters: 'R' for reply

I've been inspired lately, to be more proactive about putting pen to paper - about pushing the letter writing thing, expressing my feelings and kind of reaching out. So, I did some unusual things.

Like, when I finished reading Marieke Hardy's book I decided to write her a letter, telling her how much I enjoyed her book.

Then, after my Gotye experience - I thought it might be nice to write to the man himself and tell him just how wonderful I thought he was. This time, I had to resort to email, as he had no physical address.

So I did both of these things.

Yesterday an unassuming postcard sat on my bed. Perhaps another from the damn dentist? Wait, it's handwritten - wait, what is this person talking about?! Hold-the-fucking-phone... it's signed 'Marieke Hardy'. Holy shit - I was ecstatic. I felt so privileged to be holding a non-imaginary postcard in my actual hands from 'The Marieke Hardy'.  Even now, it feels weird, but incredibly exciting - that someone like that would take the time to write to me.  I'm so appreciative of that fact.

My Gotye email, which I sent two days ago.. not really sure if it would actually reach the intended destination, received a reply TODAY! It was brief, but kind and signed off... 'Wally'?!

These events have exceeded my weekly excitement threshold - and it's freakin' Christmas in a few days! Where to go from here?

So, this post isn't strictly a letter, but about letters. It makes me incredibly happy that two very talented people took time out of their days to respond to little old me.  Now, who said the written word couldn't change anything?

I think I'm beginning to like this letter writing stuff.

Best. Letters. Ever.

SB xx

the making of me

“Nothing of me is original. I am the combined effort of everyone I've ever known.”
- Chuck Palahniuk

SB xx

I fear I'm dying of complications

I happened across this song while driving to the gym this morning - what a fortunate event.  Without pen, paper or Shazam at my disposal - I had to try and commit the words to memory, so I could search for the song later.  I found it. I love it. It is me.



I used to be quite resilient
Gain no strength from counting the beads on a rosary
Now the wound has begun to turn
Another lesson that has gone unlearned
But this is not a cry for pity or for sympathy

SB xx

time and its command

Powerfingers 'these days' was drawn during this mornings ipod lottery - perfectly suiting my mood.

It's coming round again
The slowly creeping hand
Of time and its command

Soon enough it comes
and settles in its place
Its shadow in my face
Puts pressure in my day

This life well it's slipping right through my hands
These days turned out nothing like I had planned

It's coming round again
The slowly creeping hand
Of time and its command
It settles in its place
Its shadow in my face
Puts pressure in my day
Soon enough it comes

Here it is again
The slowly creeping hand
Of time and its command
Soon enough it comes

It settles in its place
Puts pressure in my day
Undignified and lame

This life well it's slipping right through my hands
These days turned out nothing like I had planned
Control well it's slipping right through my hands
These days turned out nothing like I had planned...

SB xx

scream queen

I just want to scream, have somebody hear me and tell me that they understand. And I want that somebody to be you.

I checked facebook, I knew it was a bad idea the moment I started typing your name, but I did it anyway. Stupid, stupid idiot.

There she was again, a post from three hours ago - she included you in her evasive status update. Obviously she's one of those people who likes to lodge every bowel movement on facebook. He sees her every time he goes back 'home'; it has to mean something.

I want to squeeze tears from my eyes because I think, maybe it'll make me feel better - but I can't bring myself to do it. Because there's nothing left to cry? Because there was nothing tangible lost - just time and my heart...and maybe my mind.

I don't know this girl, but I know I already hate her. From her fake 'I'm a down to earth chick, really' information crap, to her pouty and suggestive profile pictures. I hate her name - spelt with two 'r's when one would suffice, but more than that, I hate myself - I hate myself for not being the one he wants - because obviously I need to be all of these things, and I can't be, because I am me. Just lonely, awkward, repulsive me.

Clearly, cocktail's do wonders for my mood.

SB xx

a rose, by any other name

So I threw your letter into the flame
And watched the fire regain
And these words have done nothing for you
As I did not read them through
Now turned to ash in the flume

And colors are dull
As the feeling of the cold
And memories fall
As the fire is getting old
Oh and I once more am now

Don’t you fret I’ll find my way
Carefully walking from the devil’s plane
And I know why you did not follow me
Pride swallowed me then led me astray

And now the dark in me has now seen the day
Oh my chill has now lost its way
And these hands that once had helped me to pray
They are limp in all their dismay
Oh they fall in their disarray

And colors are dull
As the feeling of the cold
And memories fall
As the fire is getting old
Oh and I once more am now

Oh don’t you fret I’ll find my way
Carefully walking from the devil’s plane
And I know why you did not follow me
Pride swallowed me then led me astray

Matt Corby's 'Untitled'. Love.

SB xx

man of the hour

This past Saturday night, amongst the bushy land of The Swan Valley - I endured so many people; people in front, behind, beside - they stepped over me; spilt a drink on my friend and some knob even told me off in a polite, yet degrading manner, that I wasn't sitting the way I was supposed to be?! All of this had me cursing at first - but then the show really began. There was a surprise lunar eclipse (I say surprise, because I didn't know about it - although I'm quite sure the scientists did) and then out came my drummer boy: Wally De Backer a.k.a Gotye.

Due to the aforementioned seat change, I didn't feel as much thumping inside my chest, but by God - what a show.  Suddenly the crowd didn't bother me.  Wally came on - he had eleven companions on stage, all sharing his energy and excitement for sound. My favourite element, his very own drum kit - front and centre next to him. His voice was flawless - it carried across the amphitheatre and stunned even the stupid into silence.  I could barely see him, I was so far away - but nonetheless, he gave me goosebumps - a lot. Sometimes it was magical, other times, it was as if the crowd didn't even exist and it was just a window into a jam session; and on the songs where he let loose on his drum kit - it was like watching a child playing - a really talented, handsome, awesome child. He struck my heart with his drum sticks.

I waited through two unremarkable supporting bands - we got him for 60 short minutes. I used my 'loud' clap and screamed my girliest scream wherever possible; I delighted in 'Learnalilgivinanlovin' and cried quietly during his last song 'Bronte'.

I love him, simply.

Bless.

SB xx

ain't no good

This morning flashed at me like a warning light. Waking in the early hours of the day light, I awoke to a noise - what sounded like a voice - I can't even say what I think I heard, because it's so crazy. As I drove to work, a big black crow flew by my side - just long enough for me to see his floating body through my passenger window. I took it to be a bad omen; something about the noise they make, or the fact they pick at things that were alive once... or perhaps because of what crows 'told' my great grandmother many years ago.

I was scared.

I received bad news today, from my good friend, whose husband is very sick. He may not be saved this time. My friend is just the loveliest person, who has seen so much tragedy in her life - her husband, a good man... and I just can't believe it's happening all over again. In my mind, I curse God, why is it so unfair; in my heart I know this changes nothing. Resolved to tears - eventually rolling into indifference - an ache.

This afternoon I see a five cent coin sitting on the ground: see a penny, pick it up... I don't collect - because I think to myself that I don't need the luck, that maybe the luck could be saved for someone who really does need it... then I thought the whole luck thing is bullshit and I wouldn't get it anyway, even if I deserved it.  Because luck never goes to where it's really needed - luck is a bad man with poor intentions.

SB xx

practical ghosts

And I had a dream
About my old school
And she was there all pink and gold and glittering
I threw my arms around her legs
Came to weeping
Came to weeping

And I heard your voice
As clear as day
And you told me I should concentrate
It was all so strange
And so surreal
That a ghost should be so practical
Only if for a night

And the only solution was to stand and fight
And my body was loose and I was set alight
But you came over me like some holy rite
And although I was burning, you're the only light
Only if for a night

And the grass was so green against my new clothes
And I did cartwheels in your honor
Dancing on tiptoes
My own secret ceremonials
Before the service began
In the graveyard doing handstands

And I heard your voice
As clear as day
And you told me I should concentrate
It was all so strange
And so surreal
That a ghost should be so practical
Only if for a night

And the only solution was to stand and fight
And my body was loose and I was set alight
But you came over me like some holy rite
And although I was burning, you're the only light
Only if for a night

I just cannot imagine getting sick of this album anytime soon. Florence and The Machine...and her practical ghosts in 'Only if for a night'.

SB xx

shadow dancing

The Poet is the priest of the invisible.
Wallace Stevens

It's a nice idea, to think that everyone has a little bit of invisible shadow in them - and that we are connected by the experiences and emotions we share - even if we stay silent.

SB xx

red hot

I have been having some seriously weird dreams lately. Last night, it was that I got together with the current male university student we have at work right now. Which is ok I suppose - except for the fact that he's a 'ginger'. I've already been told by my Mother, that she doesn't think she could love ginger, freckly grand babies - so I best not be making any babies with ginger men... or any men with ginger genealogy - which could get tricky.

Now might be a good time to admit that I think the ginger uni student is kind of cute. And that this dream kept me awake from 4.30am this morning.

Anyway - it could be that this student simply reminds me of the magnetic Michael C Hall. I sort of love him, and don't mind at all that he plays a disconnected, emotionally retarded serial killer. He's a hot little ginger.

Oh, Michael. C. Hall...

SB xx

the man in the silhouette

There might be something unhinged about drooling over a fictional character.  More disturbing still, is that said character is, kind of a hot mess. Well, I don't care. Donald Draper, I don't care that you smoke like a chimney and drink like a fish, because nobody - noooo-body - looks as good as you do wearing mirrored aviators.  And as for you Jon Hamm - you are spectacular.

"The reason you haven't felt it is because it doesn't exist. What you call love was invented by guys like me, to sell nylons. You're born alone and you die alone and this world just drops a bunch of rules on top of you to make you forget those facts. But I never forget. I'm living like there's no tomorrow, because there isn't one"

The question is not "What would Don Draper do?" It is, rather: "What would you do if you were in the same room as Don Draper?" My answer: exactly what's she's doing below. Oh. My. God.

See, I just don't know how anyone that handsome gets anything done.  Would you not just lose chunks of time in random reflective surfaces??

SB xx

tripping into the fire

Everyone thinks it's such a sweet deal living at home with the parentals - it's not always so. There's always someone to ask questions of you that you don't want to answer. They always want to know the wrong things, or they want to remind you about the things you'd just rather forget.
How was your day?
Not too good actually...
Really StrangeBird, your head is falling off - well what are you going to do? What are you going to do if it falls off and lands on your big toe - you know that's going to hurt, right? You really should do something about that loose head of yours - I mean it's loose, and it's your head and you shouldn't have a loose head - for one, it's terribly unsafe and well it's rather unsanitary. Thank. You. Thank you for reminding me about the things that stress me out, thank you for making me not want to tell you anything, ever again and thank you for bringing it all back to me, just when I was beginning to escape, for a blink of a moment.

And they wonder why I don't like to answer their questions. Pfft.

My parents are very different people. They have similar values, but they approach things very differently. My father is analytical, scientific, methodical. My mother - impulsive, reactive, driven by her strong emotions. So, when they clash it's very messy, because neither side can see reason with the other. A clash happened tonight. I was just trying to watch 'Mad Men', the one where Peggy and Don have a moment, I was just trying to make a nice cup of tea, I opened my mouth, against my better judgement. Stay out of it, I thought to myself - but I didn't. Seemingly I exhibit the opposing traits of my parents - I became emotional at the silly things I was hearing, I couldn't tame my frustration from spilling out, but I also felt that I could simultaneously appeal to logic and solve the unrest. Wrong. So wrong.

So now, I'm in an argument that has nothing to do with me. I have upset my Mum and I can't fix it. I have to wait for the poison to drain away. I feel terrible, because even though i was attempting to help, I just declared myself an enemy (in my mothers eyes at least).

I can't do it. Never again - especially not on this issue. Fucky Mcfuck.

SB xx