lost: youth

My youth is disappearing.

 

I’m on the cusp of ‘young’ and ‘remember when i was young?’

 

I don’t like it.

 

How does one adapt to this change?

 

Once upon a time I used to go out dancing and have pretty young things sidling up to me, positive I was at least six years younger. Now I just observe the youthful mating dances going on around me like I’m an invisible alien on reconnaissance.

 

I’m no longer one of the cool kids. I no longer command attention.

 

It’s very unsettling to one day wake up, look at yourself and see an old, unfamiliar person staring back at you.

 

I’m not ready to slide into the obscurity of mature adulthood. I still want to sparkle.

 

I still want the plump rouged cheeks of youth.

downer

go to bed,

full of plans

for the next day.

 

wake up,

shy away

from doing anything.

 

how can

a mood change

so drastically?

 

where is

motivation

when I need it?

 

i hate

self-loathing:

a double negative?

 

i feel

new stirrings

of unhappiness.

 

i twitch

inside skin,

for what isn’t.

my brain creates a wha?

Would you believe I made a connection between mobile phones and babies today?

 

I have a new phone, having lost my old one in a drunken state when I lost myself and blacked out. As always, it’s hard to get used to different technology, so I’ve spent the week looking at it like a foreign object, furrowed brow and all; playing with the touch screen, trying to work out the menus, spending two days working out how to set the date and time… you know the drill…

 

Today I had a breakthrough. I glanced at it sitting next to me and actually felt an affinity for it. It had started to integrate with me. I even didn’t mind the dusty pink cover (of which at first I wasn’t fond). It suddenly looked pretty, and workable, and mine.

 

This is the line that next went through my head: if I ever have a baby, it will probably be the same thing.

 

Good grief, I thought, that’s a bit wrong, isn’t it?

 

On reflection though, there’s something to it. I mean, pre-babies, we’re used to humans being grown up (mostly), then babies comes along, and it’s not like we know how to work them out straight away, right? It takes time; you read a few manuals, stare at them for a while, and wait for blessed integration to occur, right?

 

It sure as hell takes a long time to work out how to set the alarm correctly on them anyway, so I’ve heard.

 

Do you know those times when connections in your head make perfect sense, and you know where and what you’re getting at, but using words to explain it is a useless exercise? This might be one of those times…

dear guardian angels,

Dear guardian angels,

 

Thankyou for pulling me out of crazy situations unscathed;

for keeping me safe in crowds of strange people while I’m drunk,

with no idea where I am;

for nudging my car out of harm’s way

while sliding out of control through the rain;

for stroking my hair

in my moments of despair;

for whispering calmness when I weep alone in bed;

for injections of cheekiness

right when I need to act the fool, and dance;

for dancing with me when I dance alone at home;

for the moments of piercing clarity

when intuition takes control and directs me

correctly,

out of danger;

for letting me run wild and waiting at the other end,

ready to forgive

when I don’t forgive myself;

for saving my arse time and time again with unwavering love,

patience, and the occasional upturned eyebrow,

Thankyou.

aviation

Singapore to Milan

about to land.

Radiohead No Surprises in my ears,

staring out the window down the wing

slicing through the cloudscape outside.

 

Cloud below, cloud above -

surrounded by a vision of softness.

The music perfectly suits the scenery,

until the hostess interrupts

to say

you can’t wear headphones when landing.

 

I’m in a metal bird

hurtling through the air

on a collision course with the ground

and wearing headphones

while doing this

is somehow dangerous.

 

Out of all the things that could go wrong

when a massive metal object is falling

out of the sky,

my headphones and my serenity

are a hazard?

philosophy of the beanie

I’m a bit of a beanie freak.

I’ve lost track of how many are shoved in my various drawers.

 

From the loosely-knitted tan number (my first attempt at knitting), through the grey crochet beanie from Walpole’s hippy depths, a dinosaur beanie for freaking out the masses, my super-warm Canadian beanie complete with earflaps and woolly dangles, and my New Zealand beanies made out of merino and possum fur (mmmm, possum fur), I love them all and can’t bear to part with them.

 

On a frigidly cold morning I decided to wear my scrumptious jade green NZ beanie to work and was instantly reminded of the power of conformity. I was the only one on the train platform sporting warm headwear, even though the temperature was around 6 degrees (celcius, that is, for my thousands of readers in imperial nations around the world). I felt like a freak.

 

Why is it that we instinctively feel the need to conform with total strangers?

 

Why did I feel stupid for rugging up, when in reality, everyone else was stupid for suffering in the cold?

 

When it comes to fashion in general, I think I worry too much about what total strangers will think of me. I still don’t know why. If someone walks past me and thinks I look stupid, it will no doubt be a fleeting thought and they’ll never think of me again. Their thought didn’t hurt me in any way, so why do I worry about it? Meh.

 

Just as I was at the height of my despair over being the only one on the whole train rocking out in a beanie, I spotted a very dapper business man walking off the train sporting a super daggy (and by daggy I mean awesome) himalayan beanie with ear flaps, dangles, and a super fair isle colour pattern.

 

That man, with his briefcase and suit in beautiful juxtaposition, restored my faith in the underground beanie-wearing movement.

the muse

the muse has deserted.

gone on some loooooong trip

without me.

 

she better be gathering

good stories on the road,

 

like tales of lone travellers

who wander side-streets,

interesting meals in small cafes,

lost possesions, inner peace found,

luck, serendipity, passion,

photo opportunities and silent sunsets.

 

or at least, bring me back a t-shirt.