my hiding place

How do I write this post? Do I suggest that the world is made of cotton wool and all things wonderful? Do I convey a feeling of woe? No one can see me and herein lies the joy of prose; I can portray anything I want to and if I’m good enough, you’ll believe it. Now, you have no idea how I actually feel today.
In person, I’m the world’s worst liar – utterly incapable of hiding my true feelings for longer than a few minutes of interaction. My mood seeps out of me against my will – written all over my face. But as a writer, I have thousands of words at my disposal in order to paint my disposition of choice.
Or perhaps you’ve become familiar enough with my writing to read between the lines and then you have beaten me at my own game of hide-and-go-seek.
Today, however, I am convinced it remains a mystery to you. Then again, who feels a need to hide their joy? And I’ve revealed myself before you’ve even counted to ten.

john more than rocks

Last night was the much anticipated John Mayer concert. I love John! I love John! I love…! *cough*
Yeah, so I really enjoyed it. He is a phenomenal musician and what I appreciate about his concerts (yes, I’ve seen him 4 times now) is how he disregards this unwritten prerequisite for artists to play songs as they are on the album but, instead, improvises his way through the entire 1.5hrs.
I was mesmerized. We all were. As he breathed lyrics into the microphone and the sound of his guitars (we counted 28 on stage) resonated throughout The Forum I just disappeared into the music.
Barr for the bouncing Johnny-lover in front of us, the show was perfect.
I don’t think I will ever tire of watching John in action. As his style matures and his stage presence is consistently captivating, I will always be a devoted fan (not a groupie, just a fan).
(note: I love my boyfriend more than I love John...just wanted to clarify)

weekend is history

All glammed up and ready for John Mayer tonight, I managed to start my day by missing my mouth and pouring coffee onto my crisp, white t-shirt. This due to an in-depth discussion, with a colleague, on the true history of Marie Antoinette, induced by my revealing that I had watched the film last night; an artsy fest of colour and vibrancy, coupled with a trendy soundtrack and modern quirks. As for the rest of it – what rubbish. I was put-off from the outset by half of the Austrians having British accents, the French being British and American and the Swedish sounding Scottish. Ugh, at the very least, pick an accent! Kirsten Dunst’s (Madame Antoinette) inability to produce even one tear, during a crying scene, was more painful to watch than the emotion which it was intended to prompt. All that aside, it was a good piece of cinematography from a creative point of view and a production constructed straight out of its director’s imagination.
Other than that, I had a mandatory relaxing weekend. Ready to crack, I double-locked myself up in my flat and caught up on the life I seem to have left behind in the mayhem of everyday activities. Huddled under my duvet after a scrumptious oriental chicken dinner, (which I had to stir-fry in pots thanks to my flatmate’s weekend retreat and the need to take majority of the cookware) I settled in to watch Spanglish which far outweighed all expectations and left me with the feel-good factor that I so desperately needed after a long week. When I left for church, yesterday afternoon, all my clothes and my bedding were clean, I could see my bedroom floor (it’s green – who knew?!) and the whole flat was sparkling. I can’t say I was ready to face the week when I woke up this morning (that would take a miracle) but, I do feel refreshed and I’m unwavering in my stand against busy-ness this week. Oh, to dwell on the prospect of ‘me’ nights…what essential bliss.

about this other blog

Before you call me a traitor just hear me out, okay?
I've started a 2nd blog. It's a different approach to this one so don't worry, this one will still be updated, frequently.
In case you're interested, you can see it here.

hurry up and read

I hope you’re sitting down (If not, how do you work on the computer while you’re standing?!). I have been diagnosed with a rather serious condition, known as ‘hurry sickness’. Don’t start panicking; I’m going to be fine. It was a self diagnosis of a condition of which I was made aware by John Ortberg, author of The Life You’ve Always Wanted. We’re reading the book at pastorate and often the themes are merely just refreshers of stuff I already know, but last night’s talk (and chapter) really struck something in me.
So many of my conversations, blog entries etc are filled with “I’m so busy”, “I have too much on my plate”, “I wish there were more hours in the day” as if it is the world’s fault for inundating me with obligations. But the tell tale sign of who is really to blame can be found in the mere pace at which I walk. If the person ahead of me is not rushing at the same swift rate as me, I huff and stop at nothing to overtake and leave the straggler in the dust of my steps.
I’m rushing my life away.
I fill my time with so many tasks that each one gets nothing more than my minimum and excellence is lost in the attempt to be too many things at any given time.
Priorities, priorities, priorities. I’ve spent so long trying to do it all that I fear I have lost sight of which things are the ones that really count.
And once again I’m brought back to my knees in order to renew my perspective and in search of guidance. If you hear (or read about) me complaining please remind me that it is my choice and the world is not going to collapse in a state of chaos if Roxanne can’t save it in one day.

too many pies

I know I’ve been a bit quiet. Just too much on the go, as usual. Between assignments and an article that I’m writing as a favour for someone, to promote their new company, I’m not left with much time to blog!
This week alone my schedule includes studies, home group, Alpha course, The Automatic concert, Margaux’s 21st, Bron’s moving day, taking my little brother out for a milkshake and church! Sheesh. There is sleep in there somewhere, honest.
Anyway, I’m not griping, I’m merely reflecting (can you reflect if something hasn’t actually happened yet?).
Loving the new movie card. I walked out of a movie for the first time on Saturday. I figured that if I hadn’t paid for it I didn’t have to subject myself to a further 1.5hrs of distress. The Departed, despite a ‘killer’ cast and fantastic reviews, failed to impress me as I struggled to see passed the cruel hand crushing, too much blood and brutal inhumanity. Instead, I found myself wandering the shops, while waiting for the others, in Southside Mall and happened upon a fabulous pair of boots for a steal (I didn’t literally steal them, I paid for them - just not very much)!
I miss Ian. We’ve been able to text while he’s in the African bush and had a quick chat on Sunday, but it’s just not the same. I just don’t understand why he wasn’t convinced that I would have fitted in his luggage?!
Well, the week continues. Apologies for the rather bland entry. Creative juices don’t seem to be flowing as freely as I would hope. Typical! Just when I need inspiration the most, my insight fails me. Too many pies? Time to diet, me thinks.

fairly comprehensive lowdown

I FINALLY submitted my second journalism assignment yesterday. It felt so good after procrastinating over it for more than 2 months – shocking! I basically told my tutor that I had done a lot of research and my conclusion was that I have no intention of writing insubstantial articles for glossy magazines which fill the heads of young women with trash. Let’s hope he understands how that could have taken me 2 months to conclude.

Bron and I got these movie cards that allow us to watch as many movies in a month as we want - the perfect winter gimmick. So we watched both Hoodwinked and Click on Friday night just because we could. I left feeling uplifted thanks to good company and a yodeling goat.

In other news, I missed a call from my brother last night. When I called back an hour later, the circumstances which led him to ring me had calmed and when I questioned if everything was alright he responded by saying, “I’m fine. Mom wasn’t but she is now.”
A teary Mom took the phone and proceeded to explain that the drama was initiated by the death of Desiree, the hamster. My brother didn’t seem too phased by the death of one of the household pets, named after my sister and I (the appropriateness of which I have questioned a number of times). Apparently, Aaron spectated through the window while talking to his friend on the phone as Mom dug a hamster size grave, said a little prayer and sorrowfully laid Desiree, the hamster, to rest. It’s okay Mom, boys are so cold sometimes – I would have cried too.

Ian is going on a gorilla safari in Africa on Friday. I’m going to miss him so much! Briggs, stop retching. To console myself I have planned plenty of Ben and Jerry, DVD evenings. Added bonus is that I get an early start on my winter insulation.

Both Bron and Jo are moving South-West (ie. into my ‘hood’). How exciting! No more trekking across town (or between towns for Jo) for a coffee - now we can just meet locally. My plan is working…soon I will never have to leave Putney. I’ll become known as ‘that girl from Putney’. Anything north of the river will cease to have relevance as I insist that the world must come to me. *poof* Okay, okay, I’m awake.

That’ll do. I think you have enough insight to make you feel like we’ve had a personal catch up. If not, how much detail do you want?

caught by the cold

Scratchy throat, blocked ears, running nose – I have the dreaded winter lurgy. I have felt it descend throughout the course of the day as I sat here powerless to stop it. And I’m really regretting buying those silly Peter Rabbit tissues that clearly are not sufficient for the extremities of the flu.
Each time I rise from my desk I can feel as my body strains to fight back. As a result I am stiffening from head to toe.
Woe is me. I think a day in bed is calling, lest I continue to be a Martyr and only cause myself further suffering.
And a note to all who may yet fall prey to the clutches of this same lurgy: Lockets don’t work and they’re bad for your teeth.

what i think

It’s the same destructive pattern every time. Hot tears burn the back of my eyelids as I fight to hold them back. They come as a result of thoughts going backwards and forwards in my head over an extended period of time.

Lies start as a single insignificant thought.

If captured, before this idea has the chance to balloon, the thought will stay in that moment and its effect remains minimal.
However, most of the time you do not recognize the vicious potential of any single thought and you begin to dwell on negative aspects for longer than is necessary.
How many times will I go down this road? As made-up scenarios in my mind begin to breed neurosis I become overwhelmed by contemplative despair over situations that haven’t even occurred. At this stage my head has convincingly conjured this warped reality and I’m angry at the world. Angry for no apparent reason on the outside but hurt none-the-less.

Unhappiness thrives in an undisciplined mind.

Influence is squashed by gloom and potential lies dormant until an overcomer decides to rise up; to fight against the things that will hold them back if they do not realise that truth is stronger than any force, be it spiritual, physical, intellectual or emotional.
If I write it, maybe this will be my new reality; that thoughts are just that. They are not real.