Tomorrow I will do what my teachers did for me 12 years ago.
Support my students during a time of grief.
Try and understand why someone would take their life.
Celebrate the short life they had.
Cry for those left behind.
It's something I never wished would happen, but undoubtedly knew that it would.

Despite not teaching her, I knew her from her presence in the playground, and light banter in the tuckshop line.
She was a friend to many, a daughter and a sister.
A seemingly happy girl.
But again, the mask of 'everything being fine' wins again.
And we are left here standing... Wondering why.

Tomorrow I will cry for the loss of a beautiful young woman.
And hope that through these tragic circumstances,
students know its ok to feel lost and confused.
That there are no answers.
That no-one escapes the sadness.
And that we must support each other in life so those who do feel alone, know that someone will always be there to listen.

Set of 3

You know it's going to be one of those days when all before 9 am you have managed to break a glass, brush your teeth and end up with toothpaste on your forehead (how you are still not sure) and spill fish oil liquid on your hand in which the odour still lingers.
And yet why? 

Monday... possibly. 
PMS... more then likely. 
The weather... without a doubt. 
End of holidays... Ohhhh that's it! 

Every year it's the same, the sense of literal dread and annoyance.
Yet I sit here, tethering on the edge of boredom and looking forward to seeing everyone, and yet wonder why I feel so despondent. 
It really cannot be because I don't want to return to work. 
Everyone works, suck it up princess!

Sub-conciously, I think it could also be because I started the morning yearning to be creative. 
Sending my new headshots off to my old London agent and begging him to keep me in mind. 
Browsing auditions in the NYC Playbill, seeing what I COULD be going for if I was there. 
Considering that lead which potentially has dried up and I have nowhere to go to now. 
I guess, that is probably what I really want to be doing instead of creating a powerpoint for Year 9 drama. 

Artists all over the world feel angst and sadness of how they can only get so far. 
Those few that really make it probably forget what it is like and are rare to find. 
So what I feel is nothing new. 
I guess I just see another year passing and see ultimately, something that I so long for, get further away. And when people say, just chase it... you think. Yeah ok. No worries. 
How? I have to pay the bills. My life is here. How?

So now that it's out there, I feel slightly better. 
I laugh at how fickle it all really is. 
First world concern. 
Get on with it and get over it. 
You've had your set of 3 things today, it cannot get any worse!

shock to system

It's been several weeks now, so I've had time to process and digest.
But at the start, I was so confused, hurt and betrayed to even contemplate what had happened that I couldn't even talk about it.
I was so deceived. Kicked when I was down. Caught unaware.

I thought you were that friend that I had been searching for since being back.
That person that would just understand me and who I could confide in.
The woman who I could cry with,
laugh hysterically with and get up to some mischief in this sleepy sea city with.
Yet you were not.
You were a fraud and something I had closed my eyes to.

For so long in my life, I had to be aware of people's intentions and the subtext that lies in 'truth'.
Time away and meeting genuinely wonderful people made me lazy and complacent.
I trusted you. Put my faith in you.
For you to only throw it back without so much a blink of an eye.

And so instead of mourning the loss of a friend, I accepted it for what it was.
A mistake in humanity.
A clashing of souls.
An example of how clever the facade can really be.

So, it is your loss without our friendship.
Because my care, love and appreciation for you WAS genuine.
And it is rare to really find that.
Good luck to you and all that you do,
I know who I am and what I stand for, which is far more then what you are worth.

Fabled Festive Fun

This time of year has always presented difficulties for me, and I feel 2012 is no exception. 

From Christmas Eves' with mum, to dinners with dad and the problems with presents in between, 

it's always been something that I have approached with a little apprehension and dread. 

So this year, when momentum bought December near, the same unease arouse. 

But why, I thought, when everything seems great? 

That's when I realised, the answer was simple. 

This time of year highlights the small, yet significant gaps we have in our lives. 

For me, a peaceful family where both my sisters are present and talking to my dad. 

For a best friend, so far away, to be near to celebrate the excitement of Christmas and a new year. 

Financially, to be in a stronger position so as to not worry about the amount of money spent. 

To have exciting plans that are inclusive of everyone with limited stress or fuss. 

And although these are seriously all very minute and very 'first world' concerns, 

they are emphasised in this 'festive funness' time. 

Posters and films, adverts and facebook tell us to celebrate and be merry. 

And I am. It's just there are some grinches in the way sometimes. 

Decisions to be made that hurt feelings and circumstances that make people cranky. 

So, I breathe and try and focus on the positives. 

Friends around me who make me laugh and whom I love. 

One of my best friends here, by my side, who I simply adore and am thankful for. 

A dad near who I will be glad to see. 

A phone call to my sisters and overseas to bridge the gap. 

But most importantly, I have hope that one day, the gaps will be small or almost non-existent. 

I will have my own circumstances and family who I can smother in affection and excitement, 

who will fulfil all those little holes that are there right now at this strange transition of life. 

That man up there

Another restless night. More tossing and turning.
I know what time of year it is and why, yet I try and find other reasons.
Stress from work.
Brain fuzz from uni.
Endometriosis that prevents me lying on my tummy.
Toilet breaks.
But all this is fruitless.
It's another year ... The pumpkins, the gardenias... The full moon tell me so.
And yet for some reason I thought it wouldn't effect me so much this time.
After all, it's 11 years. No big deal.

Yet it is.
You'd be 28 this year... I wonder where you'd be.
More weddings and babies popping up.
Our 10 year reunion and the burns boy is still drunk.
Contemplating big purchases, extended study... It's all more additions to our timeline.
Yet yours remains still ... You're etched in my brain in a newspaper dress and your beaming grin.
I wonder when the details will begin to blur.
No time soon I'm guessing.

So I'll think of you and shed some tears.
Have a drink for the friend I have lost.
And stare at that moon knowing you we're looking at it too, your final glorious moments here.
I can only hope that it bought you the same peace and comfort it brings me tonight.
Missing you and knowing you're around me sometimes...
Just watching over us in the way that you would want.

the run

21 km
3 hours for cut off time

my stomach is doing backflips.
why am I doing this again?
because you can, when there are so many other who can't.
because you want to prove to yourself that physically, you can do this.
because it is a challenge, something that really is difficult.

I know tomorrow I will get a buzz and feel fulfilled.
but right now I feel scared shitless.
scared... about a run.
scared about doing it on my own.
scared that I won't be able to finish.

why is it that something foreign implements such fear in us?
at this point, when i have shoved pasta down my throat even though I feel vomitty,
I feel like sometimes, it would be better not to do these things.
to not challenge yourself in this way that is SO scary.
to live your life 'safe' - far less emotional and turbulent.

yet in the same breath I know that this time tomorrow, I will be glad that I have felt this fear.
that the fear makes you feel alive, know you are human.
it makes you realise that you can do anything, on your own, if you want to.
i just need to remember this for the next 8 hours and get me through.

21 km
2 hours 30 minutes estimated finishing time

once in a while

When you're away, I wonder if you think about me half as much as I do you?

I feel, pathetic as it sounds, a little incomplete when you're not around.

Like something is missing.

We don't have to be doing anything - reading a book in bed, lying on the couch or cooking dinner...

but you're still here.

Then when you leave, I still want to know what's going on with you, and visibly show this.

A call, a text - some contact with you.

But you, you're different.

Away in physical space almost means away all together.

Calls are infrequent and texts much the same.

I know it doesn't mean you don't care or miss me a little.

Just maybe your thoughts are not on us... or me.

In some weird way, it shows how secure you are with us.

Why do you need to tell me you're thinking of me, I should already know that you are.

Still, it would be nice if you could just humour me once in a while, and show me.

It would make me certain, that despite your absence, you do think of me and want that connection.

Not all the time, just once in a while.

the gaping hole of you.

We were once inseparable, the answer to each other's questions.

The laughter to the silence,

the happiness through the tears.

The wine at the end of a hard, long day.

Time, space and countries now between us,

I sit here and sip my red on my own.

Adel is playing in the background

and I am taken back to memories of Spain, your kitchen and the pub.

Moments of us screaming lyrics that meant so much;

a reflection of our insanity.

Over the past six months I have tried not to think about what a gap you have left in my life,

simply because it is just too hard.

But sitting here at my new place -

the gaping whole of your friendship is hard to ignore.

I laugh half as much without you -

and am far healthier!

I miss you wench, your carb withdrawals and your coffee obsessions.

Your cross eyes and your hairy mongolian jungle!

Your attempt at running only to abandon me for some food.

I miss you so bloody much.

little people

I have been thinking lately about the choice of having children.

Sure, deep down I would love nothing more.

It would be wonderful to bring that little person into the world;

the best combination of my partner and I.

No doubt it would be magical to watch them grow and learn about the world;

the new eyes of desire, passion and laughter.

But underneath all this, I am terrified that I would hurt them the way I have been by my parents.

To make them feel unwanted in anyway would simply break my heart.

To reduce them to tears, despite their age of being an adult, would almost be unforgivable.

To instil disappointment and questioning in their development as a person,

so they feel like they are unsuitable or a failure in some way.

Not an option.

These fears are possibly natural for each parent.

But somehow, I feel like mine are accentuated because of my history and upbringing.

If you came from a good family, one that is stable and secure... would the fears be the same?

Or would they be worse as they have had amazing role models that they want to live up to?

Maybe these fears will diminish over time, or I will find success and confidence from my parents small failures.

Or maybe I won't have the option, prevented by a physical error.

But I guess it is a choice that every women must face.

Either way, I do not want to have a child and subject them to similar fears that I have had in my life.

I would do anything to spare them from the pain and torment of wondering if they were ever really good enough.

'You lot'

Divided and merged families are always a source of entertainment and angst.

But beneath the flow charts and laughter, hurt lies seething and brewing.

'You lot always think you know everything' was the latest statement.

Hurtful.

Honest?

Said and scarring none-the-less.

After the hours of tears on the bathroom floor, my questions is - what lot would you prefer?

If 'you lot' were really so unbearable and full of attitude (and let's look at the record)

are you embarrassed and would you rather 'the other lot'?

Tomorrow you will act like you didn't say it at all - that everything is fine.

But I will, unfortunately, ponder this for days.

Said in the heat of the moment?

Anger said in words?

Or truth finally spoken... your real opinion on 'your lot'.

facebook perfect lives

We are so consumed, as a society, to appear to 'have it all'.

We are driven, fashion conscience, wealthy, healthy, happy and to top it all off...excited about sharing it with the rest of the world.

Normally, this would be a good thing, as it wouldn't be blatantly done to the extreme.

It would be a private matter shared with family and friends, on the phone, via email or at gatherings with loved ones.

Instead, with the change in social media, we see it every minute updated on facebook.

Live news feeds, status updates, 'liking' and commenting, instant messenger and other 'faceyfeatures' make it nearly impossible to go seconds without hearing about someone's 'happiness'.

But is it genuine?

Or are we busy creating facebook perfect lives so that everyone else is aware just how good you've got it?

I often wonder how much of it is truth, or if they are posting it to make themselves believe it, bored or even trying to prove to others that their life is really, so much better then everyone else's.

Do you ever see people saying how it really is? For example:

Today I'm feeling sad and don't feel like getting out of bed... no idea why. Thanks emotions.

My ovaries and uterus appear to be strangling each other, so now I look bloated and pregnant even though I'm not. Great.

Or even, my boyfriend has got PMS worse then I do, what's with that?

None of these humours, yet honest and refreshing comments are ever seen.

Why is that? Because it might, God forbid, show people that life is not always grand?

Yet I think it would create the opposite effect - it would reassure people that's it is NORMAL to not have perfection 24/7. NORMAL to feel a little lost or low. NORMAL to worry about money and where it's going to come from next month with no work. NORMAL to realise that we sometimes, don't have it all.

So stop with the bullshit and the 'creating' of great lives on facebook.

Live your lives with all that comes with it - and don't feel the need to conform to the 'update' of things that you think other people would find interesting.

vent of feelings.

Sometimes it annoys me how much I care about you.

You could say something, or nothing at all that gets on my nerves,

and yet just looking at you and you pulling me in close makes me forget about it...

and like you even more.

Time away from you and I am more then excited to see you.

I bound in, energy and passion almost tangible towards you,

and there you are - with your calm and carefree way.

Yet despite it sometimes bringing me down to earth,

I love the grounded and ease at how you make me feel.

I think about our future sometimes and find myself getting anxious.

You're so reserved about it all - just so matter of fact that we'll be sweet,

that I dare not voice my concerns.

I just have to ride it with you and worry about it when it comes to that.

This ridiculous feeling, missing you after a day and wanting to just be with you,

can sometimes be so annoying.

But exciting all the same.

You make me smile and laugh.

You make me calm and relaxed.

You make me confused and worried.

But I love every way you make me feel.

Grief

Grief.

Is it tangible?

Does it physically break your heart?

Does it make your bones weak and your head feel drained of blood?

I don't mean the emotional sense; that is evident on people's faces.

I mean - medically, can you see it?

Does it ever mend?

A certain part of life that harms so many;

should there not be something we can take to lessen the damage?

Grief.

Is it tangible?

I look at the people around me and feel I know the answer.

Yes, people's hearts are fractured and their strength is weak,

never really the same or physically as strong again.

but

I want to help you, but I don't know how.

I can see you hurting, but ignoring it to put others first.

I can see your sadness, but also your hesitation to acknowledge it.

I can see the shield that is there, but I will always try to pull it down.

I can dote on you with cuddles and kisses, but sometimes they go astray.

I try and find your eyes, but they vacantly stare at nothing.

I try to find my way in, but you've learnt to rely on yourself.

I love you and am here for, but sometimes you don't see that.

simple words on a page

I have this postcard that I picked up in a cafe in London.

Apparently, it's going to be ok.

I laughed when I saw it and vowed to send it to people I knew.

Instead, it sits here and reminds me.

Appropriately fitting right now, I tell myself this affirmation often.

The housing will sort itself out, as will work.

You will stop feeling helpless at some point in the next few weeks.

It's going to be ok.

Despite the papered reassurance, my brain isn't convinced.

Perhaps if I stare it just a little longer... it will eventually sink in.

day eighteen

crying in the shower after such confusion.

a lovely afternoon with friends to replace the argument with a sister,

an evening returning, a serious conversation and it doesn't take much for me to tick.

already feeling so foreign in this house, i now feel like some sort of failure.

teaching's not good enough and no point doing masters...

apparently it's time for a career change.

trying to find my feet in this country and this house,

now is not the time to suggest uprooting the only stability i have.

the need for them to be happy for me, that i am happy in my life.

isn't that what it is all about?

retreating to bed with a rug around me,

i hope it will protect me from further thoughts of disappointment.

these walls that make a house

These walls don't make a home because you don't allow it to be.

Your questions and deadlines,

your biased and insincere attitude make me feel like a stranger in my own room.

The silence and the shuffling.

The lies and fake smiles.

I clearly mean nothing to you.

Yet if anyone asks you would conveniently tell them that I'm great,

because it suits you to 'fit the appearance'.

I feel like I can never do or say the right thing,

that I am huge intrusion to your peaceful paired existence.

And yet, despite all this... your hostility and your hesitant nature to care about someone other then your blood, I would forgive you and move on if you just gave a shit.

If you ever asked a genuine question and waited to hear the answer.

If you ever responded to my text messages about being home for dinner.

If you ever did anything that resembled motherly affection - and consistently,

just not when it suited you.

Instead I sit quietly in my room and not get spoken to.

I get nervous about whether I am home for dinner or not.

I apologise for getting in the way, in a space that should be my own.

I feel more alone when you are here then when I am literally, on my own.

I wait patiently for you to show some sort of real honesty with me.

So I will wait... continue to wait.

For something that I know, may never really come.

Day Six

Day six and I am back at school.

The same school that I physically left two years ago,

the same school that emotionally and mentally I seem to still have left now.

Children listen and respond with kindness,

and I find myself giggling with confusion.

They are clicky with each other and invasive in the teachers lives,

yet I find that annoying rather then endearing.

I walk around, almost feeling like I have gone backwards in so many ways.

London... when did that happen?

I changed... so what.

Day six and I am confused about who I am as a teacher and what I am doing at this place.

Day 2

Day two and already I feel displaced.

It all seems so normal, so routine.

It's like I never left.

Yet this funny space in my heart feels... soft. And a little weak.

It's the part that already misses the laughter and madness; the chaos that is London.

Perfectly normal and no doubt lingering -

I long for that teleport machine to take me back for a cuddle and a wine...

then back here to the routine.

To the comfort of being at home:

just after I get the fix I need to stop the confusion.

Radio Swiss Jazz

Awaking foggy and mucus headed, the buffet breakfast was the only thing calling my name.

A cup of tea with honey and a plate of fruit - heaven.

Such bliss in such small comforts.

Feeling less then average, Granada's magical streets held little appeal, and so back to bed I went.

Awaking again, relaxed yet still sleepy, I headed down to the pool.

Banter, sunshine and giggles...bliss at home, blessed to be in another country with a dear friend.

A horrendous lunch and a confused middle zen, the room again had me at hello.

A little siesta waiting for a wench to ready herself...

finally we were ready to explore.

Tiny streets, pharmacy confusion and a glam boutique goodbye gift - little else could please us.

A quiet garden with a water feature, a sign for 'Bohemia Jazz Cafe' and a closed looking window...

thankfully not so.

Walls lined with books, old records, musical instruments and jazz posters from the 1930's;

we had found a 'secret wardrobe'.

Faces of locals filled the tables and jazz was literally everywhere.

Men playing saxophones, upside-down tea pots, oversized medicinal looking jars filled with ales and vinegars - clocks in every corner.

It was nothing short of a page out of a new york jazz picture book, yet in the middle of Spain.

Little bulls and Spanish menus the only give away.

Four pianos called my name and guitars quietly strummed.

The trumpet in front of us alerted it's presence.

Feet tapped and people swayed.

Wine was drunk.

What a turn around -

Fogginess to 'Fantastico' with Fabulous Friend!