Broadway is dark tonight

I don't want to go down in history as that-girl-who-could-have-saved-that-person-from-their-own-internal-hell-and-chose-not-to. I don't want to see Gulianna hover near Terri anymore, just waiting for a sliver of attention. I don't want to be wondering in five years how Gulianna's doing. I want to be the person who in the here and now offered friendship where there was none.

[flashes of memory, i see the blue blue sky and i think that's the sun
i think maybe i might love him]

Because at some point in life I think everybody feels like an outsider. Been there, done that, in some ways I still feel like an outsider. I don't know if I'm the only person in my school to feel acutely every tear that Gulianna cries because her only friend has ditched her to hang out with us, the "populars." Oh gosh I don't want her to be alone.

I'm sick of standing by and doing nothing and thinking it'll fix itself. Doing nothing is as bad as doing the wrong thing sometimes. I threw a stone at a hawk today because it tried to kill one of Lenny's lambs. I didn't hit it but I saved the lamb.

[city lights begin to solidify from a messy blur
cars zoom past on the motorway
halfway from nowhere to anyplace]

I hate it when people shrug and refuse to help someone out and say "that's the way the cookie crumbles" or "that's just how it is." If people keep thinking like that then of course that's going to happen. But I'm tired of letting them tell me that I'm too young to understand and that there's nothing I can do. I can save the world - one person at a time.

I'm tired of people telling me that until I experience it I won't understand. Don't they understand I can't experience things unless they let me? A bird can't fly if you clip its wings and a horse can't run on a lame leg. A person can't learn without experience.

[music is too loud
volume's on 76
i can't hear my own voice
i guess i don't have any voice control]

I'm starting to care less and less about what people think of me. If it's not God's opinion why should it matter to me? Another year and I'm out of this town, out of this tiny little gossip highway. Everyone here knows everything about everyone or at least they think they do. The truth is repeated so many times it becomes lies.

So what if someone's new haircut looks terrible! The attitude some people have is terrible too but unfortunately there is no attitude-dye like there is hair-dye. If only. I don't even know if half the people I talk to are real, or whether they're buried so deep within themselves it's like there's another entirely separate person there, trapped.

[i hear a piano ballad in my head
see drops of water floating through the air
laughter bubbles up from all around me
this is happiness]

I know a few real people though. Riz, Enyar, Niknak. Those people are real to me. Everyone else, I don't know. I can see a cling-wrap layer of fake but it's not clear-cut. There are wrinkles so thick it's hard to look past the warped exterior and see the smooth, shiny new inside. Almost like a peanut in its shell.

I wonder how many years of their lives people waste trying to be something they're not?

[he's a shy kid with floppy dark hair
he's a thousand leagues away from the jocks
from the nerds
he's got this thousand-watt smile
he's a social outcast
he smells like summer and thunderstorms
a warm beach towel in the sand
i think that's why i love him]

-a solitary blue.

Aus pride world wide

I never realised before how much I love my country, and love the people who live in it. I love that I only have to walk across the road and into town to see a hundred different nationalities and religions all waiting on my doorstep. I love that I'm wise enough to see that we all share a planet together and we may as well have fun learning from one another while we do. I like to see the way different countries raise their children; I like to see that racism has, at least in my city, been put on the backburner - still there but not doing as much harm as it could. Of course, it sucks that it's still there.

[I came from the dream-time, from the dusty red soil planes
I am the ancient heart, the keeper of the flame
I stood upon the rocky shore, I watched the tall ships come
For forty thousand years I've been the first Australian.]

I love this country. To many people here it's too dry and dusty and barren. There are more evergreens than there are the colonised, romantic willows or oaks. Those trees can't survive out here. To me, this country is a glittering jewel. To the north, Queensland, humid and hot and as tropical as Fiji or Aitutaki. To the south, Tasmania, cold and wet and icy. In the middle, a desert. Kangaroos.

It has always amazed me that through hundreds of bushfires the willows, oaks, and introduced creatures of this country have died and haven't repopulated, but the kangaroos and kookaburras and koalas, the evergreens, cactuses and berry bushes, come back even fiercer and more beautiful than before. No matter how the fire devastates the environment, that which is natural continues to foster life.

[I came upon a prison ship, bowed down by iron chains
I cleared the land, endured the lash and waited for the rains
I'm a settler, I'm a farmer's wife, on a dry and barren run
A convict, then a free man, I became Australian.]

Seventy percent of the land is desert. Society survives on the fringes, glittering jewels of cities that light up like a massive Christmas tree at night. Victoria is a massive land space but well over seventy five percent lives in Melbourne, which takes up about a tenth of Victoria's land mass.

I am one of the twenty five percent that doesn't live in Melbourne.

I'm proud to say that I'm one of the country kids who roughed it in just a sleeping bag on a forty-five degree day, sleeping on the cliffs and jumping into the river. I've driven a houseboat, I've herded sheep on a horse as fast as a bullet. I've gotten cuts and scratches and been bitten by numerous white-back spiders. I was a wild country kid with tangled hair and a dangerous smile.

[I'm the daughter of the digger who sought the motherlode
The girl became a woman on a long and dusty road
I'm a child of the depression, I saw the good times come
I'm a bushy, I'm a battler, I am Australian.]

I'm proud to say that out here you don't try to swim across the river because you don't know when a snap turtle will munch your toes. Inside I'm secretly gleeful when the oaks on the river are unable to take the high salt concentration but the gums stand as firm as they did a hundred years ago. I'm proud to say that I once ran away - taking a horse with me.

I'm completely proud on the other side to admit that I have in fact lost it a little and broken into street-dancing in the middle of Victoria's Mall, the biggest mall in Melbourne.

So I'd definitely say I'm proud to call this harsh, beautiful land my home.

[I'm a teller of stories, I'm a singer of songs
I am Albert Namatjira, I paint the ghostly gums
I am Clancy on his horse, I'm Ned Kelly on the run
I'm the one who waltzed Matilda, I am Australian.

There are no words of comfort that can hope to ease the pain
Of losing homes and loved ones the memories will remain
Withint the silent tears you'll find the strength to carry on
You're not alone, we're with you. We are Australian.

There are so many heroes whose stories must be told
They fought the raging fires of hell and saved so many souls
From the ashes of despair our towns will rise again!
We mourn your loss, we will rebuild, we are Australian.

I'm the hot wind from the desert, I'm the black soil of the plains
I'm the mountains and the valleys, I'm the drought and flooding rains
I am the rock, I am the sky, the rivers when they run
The spirit of this great land, I am Australian.

We are one, but we are many
And from all the lands of earth we come
We share a dream and sing with one voice
I am, you are, we are Australian.]

-a solitary blue.

Halfway there

[When the chips are down, back against the wall
Got no more to give 'cause we gave it all
Seems like going the distance is unrealistic
But we're too far from the start]

So I'm halfway between being a kid and halfway between being an adult and I don't know what that makes me. This time last year I never thought I would have come this far, that I would have become such a different person, a happier person, someone who can help.

Watched a spectacular movie today, well, two. The first one was "To Save A Life." It really changed my perspective on things. Basically, this guy named Sam and his friend Roger are playing when they're in sixth grade. Sam runs in front of a car, and Roger pushes him out of the way - and has a permanent limp because of it.

Seven years later Roger and Sam have stopped talking because Sam chose popularity over the boy who saved his life. Roger commits suicide in the middle of the school hall, and Sam's left wondering if there's anything he could have done.

It really touched me. Everyone should watch it :)

[So we take what comes and we keep on going
Leaning on each others shoulders
Then we turn around and see we've come so far somehow]

So now it has me thinking - what do I want my life to be about? Not me that's for sure. Living for yourself is as pointless as not living at all really. I would like to help others. Maybe save a life someday. But it doesn't matter if I do or not; whether it's helping someone with their shopping or not, it's still helping.

I don't want my life to be a turned-around mess like some people I know. Jamie, one of my best friends, hooked on marijuana and cigarettes and whoever knows what else because he lost his way. I want to help him but I don't even know where to start.

I see people every day who seem to have the words HELP ME engraved on their foreheads. The pain is right there in their eyes, and it's bull that nobody sees it; people see it, they just don't want to admit they have. They don't want to look into another human's eyes and think oh geez that could happen to me.

[If we never flew we would never fall
If the world was ours we'd have it all
But the life we live isn't so simplistic
You don't just get what you want]

Do I want to look into Riz's eyes and realise she's crying out for help? No, it scares me. But I do it anyway because who else is gonna do it? The point of being a best friend is knowing the good the bad and the ugly, and the ugly truth is that while her dad doesn't hit her he doesn't have to. Shutting her out and then calling her worthless, fat, is taking more of a toll on her than anything is.

And it's taking a toll on me too. I don't like seeing my friends unhappy, people they're not. I don't like them snapping at each other and bickering and saying you don't understand because they haven't even realised they're all in the same boat.

Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one who's NOT unhappy, like I'm on a boat in the middle of the ocean with the storm above me and the sharks below. It makes me feel to be abnormal to be normal and that's sickening, just because my parents are happy together. Because they're happy together I stick out, I don't fit in.

Not that I'm complaining. I don't want to see them fight.

[How are you ever gonna reach the stars
If you never get off the ground
And you'll always be where you are
If you let life knock you down]

How do you stand up to someone who is supposed to look after you and isn't? How do you tell someone you're scared of your own father like Riz is? She says she's not but I've had seventeen years of looking into people's eyes and seeing the exact same thing I see in hers. How do you convince someone to trust you when the two people they're supposed to be able to rely on have let them down?

How do you convince them you're not gonna leave them? That it doesn't matter what time of the day or night it is, you'll catch a bus with all the creepy drunks and walk to their house in the dark if it means making it just a fraction easier, when nobody's ever done that before?

I hate her parents sometimes. I hate them for what they're doing and I hate them for what they're gonna do.

I hate them because they don't know.

Because they don't care.

[You call my name
I know I'm finally yours
I find everything I thought I lost before
You call my name
I come to you in pieces
So you can make me whole]

-a solitary blue

This city is ours

I find myself wondering a lot about what makes us who we are. Is it our family, who nurture us (hopefully) till we grow old enough to stand on our own two feet, or is it our friends, who we spend much of our lives with? Are personalities programmed into us before we're born, or is it up to us to become good, to walk the right roads and stop to help in all the right places?

Which brings me to something else - it's all well and good to dwell on the nice things. Everyone dwells on nice things every once in a whole (if you're me almost all the time). But who's to blame when things go wrong? Who's to blame when the parents are alcoholics, abusive, neglectful, etc? Who's to blame when the parents are the best parents in the world but the child isn't? If goodness is programmed into us, does that mean that we all have the ability to be bad as well?

[And can I be the one to sacrifice
To grip the spear and watch the blood and water flow?]

I believe that all humans are born to be good, essentially. I believe that God makes us that way. I believe He does everything in His power to stop us falling into the wrong hands. But there are things in society that seduce people. Images of skinny minny models that make up 2 percent of the world's population have suddenly become what is recognised as the world's standard of "beautiful" - bones and all.

I'm almost too afraid to believe in the Devil, in Lucifer himself. The thought that one could be so evil as to be tossed from Heaven from God, who loves everything and everything, is too terrifying to even comprehend. The idea that the Devil is the one who corrupted Osama Bin Laden and Saddam Hussein is something I'd rather not linger over. Both men were evil, pure and simple, they were out for themselves.

What kind of a person are you if you're not willing to stop and help somebody? If you can't bring yourself to show to another that there's some good left in the world, that there's a whole lot of it but you have to look to see it?

[So I've been wonderin'
Who will be there to take my place
When I'm gone, you'll need love
To light the shadows on your face]

And I feel for my friends who haven't yet discovered this. I want to help them but it's not something you can force someone to do. You can lead a horse to water but you can't make it drink, as they say. I can't make them see that there's more to life than their favourite bands, or how much they hate school (I don't understand hating school). I can't make them see that the marvels of the world don't lie in society but they're on the fringes - things like tigers and antelope and gorillas and beautiful wild things that are as fierce as they are beautiful and as frightening as they are calming.

I can't make them understand what I feel, or why. But I can tell them what I feel and why, and hope that someday they remember all those things I ever said and realise, hopefully, that I was right, that you don't have to go to the city to see something amazing because all you have to do is stop and look at a flower and it's right in front of you.

[Well I hope there's someone out there
Who can bring me back to you]

I also can't make them see that helping yourself means helping others. Those who think prayer is a waste of time are obviously fools, and the Devil obviously has their tongue; who's to say it doesn't work? The only waste of time are these people telling people it's a waste of time, as anybody who has faith won't take the time to consider it, because their belief is so beautiful and pure it can't be tainted by words of doubt.

So I guess what I'm trying to say is that I want to be a good person. I don't want to be remembered because I sang or danced or went to war or did whatever. I want to be remembered for being good, in whatever form that may be - whether I'm remembered because I'm the only one who helps Sister Joan load her trolley or remembered because I jumped in front of a bullet heading for a child, or their mother or father.

This is a city. My life? His existence in my life? It's a city of thought and emotion and somehow I want to share it with the world. I want everyone to know that I feel like I could lift a skyscraper, I want them to know that He is my saviour.

Accepting God into my heart has been one of the best things I've ever done. Thanks to Bleah Briann who helped me realise that He's the truth.

[Well I can fly
But I want His wings
I am strong even on my own
But from Him I never want to part]

-a solitary blue.

Picture post :)

I have nothing to say, except....

SUMMER'S FINALLY HERE XD

1. Our backyard.


So you can't see the little yellow flowers that almost blanket our backyard. This is the only house I've ever lived in - never moved, only bedrooms that is. My old one is teeny weeny. The new one's not much better. Haha.

2. Tree!


I love this tree. That's Naiyook's little Buzz Lightyear pool underneath it haha. The big green thing shades our pool.

3. Moi.


Hello, people of the world :) I look mass creepy and I'm sure I'll regret taking the photo later but for now NVM! I don't even care at the moment. 'Cause even though school goes back tomorrow it's SUMMER and NOTHING will dampen my mood!

...except maybe a lack of Pepsi.

4. Bed Luv.


Okay, you got me. It's more like a nest than a bed. We have a doona, about 50 different stuffed animals, a Wii Remote, a camera case, the bedside table with 2 books, an alarm clock and an iPod dock, and then candles on the windowsill. I spend most of my winter hibernating here when not in school.

5. Desk?


Part of it anyway. I call it a desk slash storage place slash shrine slash Sanity (DVD and music store). I'm an absolute scifi freak but I also have Supernatural and Harry Potter here as well. And my sims games <3

6. Bookshelf.



Crowded with random crap of course. I wouldn't have it any other way :)

Sorry for the lack of a deep/insightful/amusing post. I couldn't think of anything to say but I want to post at least once a week!!

-a solitary blue

My quiet little faith.

I've just realised something. I can't tell any of my friends this, 'cause I don't think they'd understand. In fact, I don't think they'd listen. No offence to them or anything, they're great friends, but very wrapped up in themselves.

I've just realised that I have this thing. It's only appeared recently but I call it my quiet little faith; my belief that God does exist. The only thing is, I'm scared to acknowledge that - because what if one day I look up and I realise God's talking, that He's teaching, and nobody's paying attention? What if I look up and realise He's trying to save us from whatever, whoever, and everyone's too busy being skeptical and disbelieving to listen? What if I realise they're all too stubborn to let Him save them? What if there's nothing I can do?

That brings me to another point - what do babies see when they dream? They say that they don't. Dream that is. That they have no words and therefore no meaning to assign to images and sounds, and that therefore even if they do dream it's not anything of substance.

All humans dream, though.

Over fifty percent of pregnancies end in miscarriages, most of them unknown. So tell me; what is it that keeps the remaining fifty percent alive? When I was a kid Mum used to tell me that the moment a baby is conceived life is breathed into it by a shooting star; if God created them then it must be Him breathing life into us, and it must be Him that fuels our desires to flourish, learn, and help people. The point is, God keeps us alive; I want the world to know that. We're all God's children. He loves us.

And yet we're cutting down this planet and harvesting its other children like it's actually ours for the taking. We're destroying the only home we've ever known, and probably will ever know, because even if by some small miracle we start to live on Mars (yeah right) it'll never be home. This will always be the planet that fostered life.

[I've got no more to give
Because I gave it all
Seems like going the distance is unrealistic
We're too far from the start.]

-a solitary blue.

Back again :)

Ok ok ok.I'm sorry :P

Latest news: I'm now seventeen! It means $13 hourly on weeknights and $15.90 on Saturday mornings. (That's good money. The minimum wage for under 18's in Australia is 9.90 an hour. I really love my bosses sometimes)

I don't feel any different somehow. :S

A lot has changed since the last time I blogged. Mostly I've just realised that it's been about six months since Josh died and yet the world hasn't stopped turning. When he took his final breath the world and its residents didn't stop and pay silent vigil; life went on.

I can't say for anybody else, whether they've realised this, and thanks Bleah Briann because I probably wouldn't have without you - but no matter how bad it hurt at times and how much I wanted to close my eyes and never wake up my heart kept beating and my eyes opened every single morning, whether I wanted them to or not.

So now I've realised that somewhere along the line, there had to be divine intervention. I'll never understand why Josh had to die and why all the rest of us got to live, when he deserved life more. I'll never understand how people could still so easily forget somebody so incredibly loved. But what I hope I'll always understand is that I can't possibly understand because it's not up to me.

On another note, I'm watching the X-Files. Go figure. That show always creeped me out.

So basically here it's our spring holidays. After this, I go back to school for five weeks. I have my psych exam week 2 of term and the rest from November 15th to November 19th. And then, after that, this little thing I call summer.

Hot winds, dead grass, pools and ice cream. For three months. I hope it gives me time to figure things out before year twelve. I can't believe I'm in almost in year twelve. In a year's time I'll be two weeks away from my finals, and three weeks away from having my future decided based on one score.

I better start doing better in math.

-a solitary blue