To put it lightly...

Is there such a thing as a lightly put compliment? I know there are insincere compliments but can one ever give a compliment that is light?? Maybe they can be taken lightly but in actual fact are they firstly light in order to be received as thus? Hee hee.

Did you know that Theo likes to hit women? There was an attempt made on my life (I have bruises to validate my argument) a few days ago that I feel should be shared. Unfortunately I fear that any details will incur the wrath of his royal viciousness... So all I can say is that there was an attempt and there are bruises. I think that if we all band together we can get enough money to send him to an anger management centre. Wouldn't that be nice? We could visit him on weekends... It would be so sweet - us with our little care-packages and him in his cute pristine straight-jackets. Can you picture the scene? Everyone smiling and laughing as Theo tries hard to kill something, but on not being able to accomplish that, drooling slightly and smiling that touching maniacal smile that periodically pops out when he's thinking of new ways to maul something...

Good times.

Of course the greatest thing about Theo in his straight-jacket is that he will not be wearing THAT shirt. Y'al know the one I'm talking about. It's that white one with the little men playing golf on it. Making fun of Theo is great. At least it was until I realised 2 things....

1)He will kill me. Slowly and painfully.
2)I am wearing a pleated granny-skirt and thus have no right to talk about his out-dated grandpa shirt. Also I rarely ever dress appropriately or with any sense of style so while I have no right to tease, I at least know enough about the subject to give it a general critique.

Goodbye friends. Don't forget to play that song about the angels at my funeral, you know the one Berry. I give all my clothes to Dez. Berry and Shlane can have my shoes. My jewellery goes to my brother's unborn daughters. Theo can have any weaponry he finds. James Short can have all my sewing equipment, and if he wants it - he can have my knitting stuff.

God bless.

Fragments of a broken heart...

Pieces of a heart lie around my room. Of course, the room is a metaphor and the pieces of heart are really the last remnants of my dignity. Is there really such a person that exists - that does not qualify for respect? Even a dirty, world-weary dog that lives off the garbage on the side of a township road has the respect of any person walking down that same road. In their heads they are thinking: "Shame, that poor dog. What kind of life does she live? How does she survive?" and then the next logical conclusion is that that dog is worthy of respect because of the life that she lives.

There is so much dignity in the eyes of those dogs. So much strength. But then I look at the children on the side of the street and in their eyes exists the same expression. It speaks of many nights spent under the stars, no matter what the weather... You would think that there would be no self-respect. I mean, they see affluent students, walking back and forth from town to campus, in warm clothes. Clean clothes. Dry clothes.

They don't pity themselves. It may be a ploy that they use in order to obtain money from said students, but really, it is just a ploy. If I were them then I would feel quite proud of the fact that I can survive in the streets. That I can, at the age of 11, feed myself and protect myself.

But now I am thinking that I am not those street-children. I don't fend for myself. I don't even make any attempt to protect myself. I let God do that. At least in that I can say that I am following a Great Warrior. As for the rest of my feelings of self-respect (or lack thereof)... they exist not. And I'm not even trying to be poetic about it. It's true. The question is, do I experience this lack because I feel that there are people who don't respect me, or are they there because I don't respect myself? And if I don't respect myself in the first place would that be the reason as to why some people don't respect me?

It's a tricky subject... I'm not sure. Tonight I tried to gain some self-respect. It blew up in my face. Did I do it wrong? Or was there never a way that that person would respect me anyway? Oh well... Time to take control of my life. Time to take action.

Time for me to sleep.

The inner workings...

There is a place in the heart that calms and allows itself to be soothed. But in the head a person can get lost in the inner workings of their mind, especially if those workings never cease. A constant running and movement of thought makes space for everything and anything to get lost and at the same time found (during the most bizarre times). There is far more to that statement than what I have communicated. When there are these thoughts that have lengthy tangents and each one of those have tangents, and the most sensational thing about all this tangenting is that they all, in some way, link... Everything that you think about links to the original thought in some way.

But aside from the dynamics of tangenting, there is also the never-ceasing workings of the mind. So much goes on all the time and then you get lost... In your head is your world. There's something scary about this and I don't often know whether it is a battle or it's a legitimate existence. Maybe it's a battle - your mind should be under lordship, and you should at least have some semblence of control so that at those odd moments of reverential silence you can keep your thoughts on the topic at hand. Something in that previous sentence makes sense - in my spirit I feel that some measure of that is true. But I would hate to disqualify the notion that it's legitimate to have such constant movement.

The only trouble with all this running around is that you CAN think too much. I'm sure that you can. You find problems you never thought you had or you blow them out of proportion. I think it's because you can get too self-absorbed.

But I'm not sure. Maybe I'm wrong. I often think too much and it leads to me being completely self-absorbed and none too pleased to interact with the outside world. This includes God... I often don't let Him into that part of me and forget to take Him into the dark places where much thought and 'running around' happens. This is most often where my thoughts are very active. And then comes the question of who am I anyway? What do I know about anything and how can I like myself? How can anyone else? The brokenness creeps in. The light dims and I'm lost. Wandering around like a small child in her nighty trying to make sense of her existence.

And then God does something as little as allowing me to bump into someone and I'm interrupted from these thoughts that were chasing each other as I walked to modernism or the dining hall. Thank the Lord for (literally) small bumps in the road that shake me from my reverie.

Light creeps in and the child starts to skip and prance around in the sunlight.

Attribution? I thought I dropped journ!!!

So i was a little inconsiderate and neglected to attribute those poems accordingly. They were in fact written by Lauren O'brien, delightful BA student in her first year. She has blonde hair, blue eyes and not so much as a hint of an Irish accent... But still, she is pretty fabulous.

Today is somewhat of a novel experience for me. Today is the first day that I have ever disagreed with the Big Man Upstairs. I have often disobeyed Him (actually it's more than often) but never have I actually disagreed. Even when I did something for Him that I didn't want to do I still did it with some form of knowledge that enabled me to understand why I was doing what I was doing for Him. This time I have no such information and as a result am still quite attached to reasons as to why I don't want to do what He wants me to do. My subject of contension has to do with dropping a Sociology 2. Seeing as I dislike it, don't really understand it and find it affecting my majors I really wanted to drop it, also, I did 5 subjects last year and so can afford to drop it. Being me I avoided asking God what He thought about the matter because I thought he wouldn't let me drop it. I asked EVERYONE else. And they all gave the go-ahead, except James - He was the only one who wouldn't and in telling me why I shouldn't he raised some hard-hitting questions as to why I should keep it and why I shouldn't drop it.

And then came God's opinion on the matter. He referred me to Ephesians 6. Several points came up, such as 'submitting to God's will', 'goodness being rewarded', 'having patience' and 'resisting the devil'.

Can't say that I agree with keeping the subject but am working on keeping my heart in good place about listening and heeding God's word - I know He knows better than me and has as good as said that I should obey without the added bonus of knowing why... So maybe I should just praise Him no matter what and get my head and heart in line with the One that knows me and my future the best.

Easier said than done...

Denial

Deny

to kill a child, to live a lie

all but nought when we deny

the facts - so true,

our love - so few,

a heart to die

now all to cry

to kill a child

to live a lie

all but nought

when we deny

deny our soul

deny our life

deny all that we defend

by knife

of purity and love

the heart of life

has passed away

Eternity

Eternity

You may love me,
yet not hold me,
feel my pain,
yet not cry for me,
feed my tears,
yet not be the source of them,
you may be my saviour,
but then also my destroyer,
my life,

and then also my death,
my pillar of strength,
yet only weakness,
and all in all,
eternity.

The Weekenders

This could be a long entry. At least it will be diverse as I, Queen of the Tangent, am always one to constantly veer off the topic. I think that should be my motto: "Stay true to every nuance of the story, never leaving a single tidbit out and always explaining irrelevent details that inevitably turn into stories themselves". I like that motto and think that I will stick to it.

But I digress (hehe)... What I really wanted to diarise is my monumentally glorious weekend and all the fantabulous friends that make up my family. First order of business is the matter of the long weekend. As many will know a gaggle of girlies went up to Cathcart to visit my family, eat food, play and work (harhar). I just want to let sensitive viewers know that the photos in this post are quite graphic but entirely necessary for explanatory purposes.

One of the many outlandish things experienced was the art of meditation for the purposes of winning board games. Derralyn and Berry thought it appropriate to demonstrate this so as that those of you "gotta-win" types would know how it worked. Having played with them approximately 2 minutes later and subsequently losing horridly I can assure you that it does in fact work.

Not to worry though, both jubilently modest winners got their comeuppance when we decided to play a different set of games. Our favourite to date is "poke-a-berry" and "tap-a-dez". The sounds produced from both parties were the kind that you wouldn't want small children to hear.

Of course we also ate.... And slept... Although I did hear of certain thieving tendencies from one of the more fruitful females. This is photo is in memory of the lost sleep that rightfully belonged to a someone of the German Jew variety.

Now there is something that I would like to say about aggression. There was a fair amount of aggressiveness on this weekend that may need attention. I would like to make reference to the phrase "smoosh her smoosh her!!!" and "stuff her like a pig!!!". When a brother decides to beat up his sister I think that these words are entirely inappropriate. Instead of female solidarity and a brace of sisters-in-arms coming to help and fight off the rebel force someone (Rulleska Singh) yelled for there to be "smooshing". In response to this another nameless rogue (Derralyn Martin) stood up, pointed at me lying helpless under the weight of said brother and commanded him (rather forcibly) to do the stuffing. He complied. Oh yes, there was much compliance in the form of marshmallows...

So that was the weekend. Oh, there was also some working. Nina was very dedicated to the cause of passing first year. Clearly she knows not of the theory of dropping out and marrying a farmer and having many children (to help run the farm). This theory is fairly pleasing when exams are nigh.