You see black, I see grey,

I’m sure I’m not the only person who sucks all the salt of the outside of the pistachio shell prior to opening it up and eating it, nor would I be the only one who runs sour coated lollies like warheads under water to lessen the strength before I eat them. I’m practically getting something that is made the same and is so standard and changing it to be the way I like it. Sort of like DJ’s remix songs that are okay to become songs that are incredible. So as I looked over at the unopened packet of salted pistachios on my desk which really should be plagued with school books and study notes, it got me thinking whether we do the same with people. Just like we alter or enhance the foods we eat or music we listen to, do we do the same with those we know?

You hear numerous stories about how relationships never work because one person went in thinking they could change the other but it was to no avail. It always makes me jump to the conclusion that they do it wrong. Instead of completely trying to alter who they are, all that is simply needed is a little adjustment. An enhancement on the things they like about the person and a dull down of the things they don’t. 

Yet, just like I enjoy extracting every last speckle of salt and rinsing off the majority of the sour coating, some may wash the salt off and suck on the warhead without any preparation. This brings me to the point that people find joy or whatever it is in different things of the same theme. In regards to people, I generally like people who don’t argue my point because I’m stubborn and its tiring to argue, I like people who are sporty, have a mutual agreement that doing nothing is no fun and people who have lots of money. However, you may like someone who is always there to tell you when you may have gotten something wrong (why would you want that though), someone who enjoys lounging around as do you and someone who has more spiritual wealth as opposed to monetary wealth.  And to me, that sounds absurd, just like eating a yellow warhead but to you, it’s perfection.

On Facebook, I enjoy scrolling down my newsfeed and repeating the words ‘fuck you’ and ‘shut the fuck up’ in my mind over and over again, yet most people enjoy being able to stay connected with people they haven’t seen in years. The thing is though, that there are so many sides to a single things. If I look at a painting, I might see pain and sadness the artist was trying to express but the person travelling the world with me and standing beside me in the Louvre may see a colourful, energetically expressed masterpiece. It’s all perception and not only is it perception, but it is tunnel vision. We see what we want to see. I enjoy my salt on the nuts (get your mind out of the gutter) and I enjoy a slight sour taste. So be it, babes. 

Comfort Zones

My bedroom is a shed located in my backyard about ten meters from the house. Ever night, I travel between my house and room at least 3 times and when I'm out in the open between both rooms, I feel a sense of fear, as though someone is hiding in my backyard ready to come attack me. But once I get inside my room, that feeling instantly disappears and I feel like no one can get me even though my door is never locked and my backyard is easy to get into from the street.
I believe we can feel this way when we're alone to. For example; it's lunch time at school and you just left your classroom. You have no idea where your friends are so you walk through the school yard pretending to be knowing where to go but really you're just examining every area in sight to see your mates. You feel as though everyone is staring at you so you pull out your mobile phone and pretend to text or cruise through Facebook. you feel uncomfortable; but then you find your friends and instantly that feeling of 'everyone is staring at me' just disappears.
I am regularly wondering why we feel this way. Could it be because we feel like we are shadowed in our friends presence and secure in our own rooms. Or is it really because that's just where we're most comfortable and used to so it's just natural.
Blogs suck after a while. Rawr. this sucks.

I dream a dream

I don't sleep very well so I take melatonin tablets to make me sleepy. However, a side affect of this or at least I consider it to be of this is that I have crazy dreams. The other night, I had one completely in sign language and then once I picked it up, I finally started speaking to someone and they responded in voice telling me they don't speak sign language' - Last nights dream consisted of going to the shop with my step mum and step sister and my step mum was buying all this stuff for my step sister even though she had 12 of everything in the bag. Eventually, she buys me nothing and gets my step sister a 13th pair of blue sun glasses to match the 12 in her bag already. Another dream I had was where I was pregnant. In the beginning, I didn't want the baby but as the dream progressed and scenes were skipped through the length of the pregnancy, I gained a connection with this baby. The moment that happened, my step mum pushed me on the ground and stomped on my stomach. I woke up sad because I didn't have this baby haha

Hilary Duff once taught me that 'this is what dreams are made of' but I think she may have been referring to the aspiration type of dreams. I however, am talking about the stories and images that go through our minds as we sleep.

With all that said though. There is one dream that I remember so vividly and often get recurring versions of it. A few nights ago, I dreamt it again and I would say that this is the 3rd or 4th time this has happened. Im camping in a lodge on a rainy wintery day in the middle of the forest when I hear knocks on the door and someone saying my name. No one was meant to be aware that I was there so someone i'm with (a random) drags me out the back door and throws me into the drivers seat of a red ferrari  When i first had this dream, in real life, I didn't know how to drive. Yet, every time the dream reoccurs, I get better at driving this red ferrari  So I slam on the accelerator and break through the walls of the lodge and next thing I know, I'm being chased through the city in my red ferrari with 3 friends in the car. These people chasing me are unrecognisable and are in a black car of some sort.
The colours in this dream are so bright and lively. Almost like I'm inside a painting. Unrealistically bold colours like overly green grass and perfectly pigment free skies. I'm driving straight along a boulevard of some sort when it comes to an end. I have an option of driving up the pier and into the restaurant on the end or into the water. I choose the water. But instead of crashing into the crystal blue water, I start driving on top of it. I keep going until im adjacent to the restaurant and then the car stops and starts to sink. My friends are still in this convertible top down ferrari so I dive under to drag them out. I only saved one of them. The dream skips and I'm having coffee in the restaurant with the people chasing me. It's myself. I am looking at myself sitting opposite the table next to the fireplace where I am drying off from the water. I stand up to leave and then I awake.

This has been the dream I've seen 4 times. I don't know if dreams reflect anything about a person but I can tell you that if someone could record my dreams and play them back, they'd be 5 star movies in the box office and I'd be a billionaire. 

I guess I'll leave the bread winning to my future husband. 

Home sweet home

I've found telling stories about my life in Sydney on here be really helpful. I've finally found a place to order my words and re tell the events so they become clearer to me as those two years are just a blurry mess. I have fun telling the stories too, so I hope someone at least, is enjoying reading them.

When I was 12, almost 13 I ran away from home. I lived on the streets for about a month. I'd like to give a location but I was all over the place. Not just physically, but mentally as well. I can't remember most of it. I'd like to say drugs or alcohol or something but the reality is that I just blocked alot of that time out and piecing it back together proves to be a challenge. Partly why this blog is helpful. Anyway, this story is about the lead up to returning home. So enjoy or whatever

All-nighters weren't anything new to me by this stage. It had been about 3 1/2 weeks since I had been home and honestly, I wasn't particularly planning on heading there any time soon. For the time I'd been on the streets, I lived off shop lifted food and drinks and stolen items from peoples cars and bags as well as a collection of 50 cent coins from asking strangers if I could have some money to 'call my mum'. I'm not proud of what I did but some of the stuff we got away with was ridiculous. For example; Rachel and I (the girl I spent most of my time with) were in K-mart in Miranda. We were walking around with the full knowledge that we were leaving with something on behalf of the five finger discount. After asking a shop assistant where the Jackets were with our pants stuffed with swimwear, shorts and a singlet, we were pointed in the right direction. Both of us just put on a jacket and walked out of the store. Just like that. As we were leaving the westfields with our trolley full of stolen goods, we noticed some security guards following us, so we picked up our pace and were meters away from the main exit when I was tapped on the shoulder.
'Excuse me miss, but do you have receipts for all this?'
 'Sorry man, we chose not to take bags or receipts to save the environment'
'Well, we've had a report of a stolen jacket and we'd just like to take a look through your things'
- Please excuse me why I just say, how the fuck did they not realise that there was not a paid item in that shopping trolley. I'm sorry but how dumb can you get. No receipts, no bags, still tagged items and it couldn't be any more obvious that we got them at 'off the shelf' prices.
Somehow, and I don't know how but we left with our trolley still full and our criminal record clean.

Anyway, the point of that was to just explain the types of things we did. So it was a week night, for the stories sake let's just assume it was a Tuesday. I was in Cronulla alone. I had been alone at this stage for about a week. Words can't explain that. I don't think I will ever be able to put words the the loneliness I felt, the pain, the sadness, whatever it was, it's unexplainable. In Melbourne, night riders only run on Fridays and Saturdays but in Sydney, public transport is available 24 hours 7 days a week. It was about 2 am in the morning and trains had ended. I didn't have anywhere to stay so I decided to take the night rider to the city and just wonder around there. Whether it was because I hadn't slept in a few days or because the bus seat was the comfiest thing I'd been on in a long time, I fell asleep on the bus. When we arrived in the city, the bus driver came to the back and woke me up. He started a conversation with me about where I was going, what I was doing, Why a young girl like me was out this late. I didn't give him much of an explanation, just that I was meant to meet a friend in Cronulla but she never came and now it's too late to go home. He told me that I can stay and sleep on the bus until trains started up again. So that's what I did. Mind you, I woke up a fair few times to drunken passengers getting on the bus and some even vomiting all over themselves. It was 4:30 when the trains started. So when we hit the city for the last final time after about 3 trips to Cronulla and back, I was about the get off the bus when the bus driver grabbed me and handed me a ten dollar note. I don't even know what to say here because it was probably the most generous thing someone has ever done for me and it was from someone who didn't even know me.

I got of the bus and headed down to central station to get on a train going nowhere, when it hit me. This wave of exhaustion, like I'd had enough and I just couldn't do it any more. I had two choices there and then. Go home or kill myself. Without much deliberation, I chose to go home. I took a train to Wolli Creek and then another one to Narwee. By this time, I had no phone. An entire different story but I got in a fight with someone and they stole my phone. Anyway, Mum didn't know I was coming home, I'm certain she didn't care either because after the fifteen minute walk from the train station to home, I walked through the front door, said 'hey mum' - walked up the stairs and put my school uniform on. Walked down stairs, out the front door and to the bus stop. I slept through every single class that day. I know teachers had known something was up with me since mid year. I had missed ridiculous amounts of school, been suspended a ridiculous amount of times and well, they'd met my mother.

The point is, life is actually fucked. My own mum didn't even care that after a month I returned home. She never asked me what happened in this time, maybe she didn't care maybe she just thought that ignorance was infact bliss. Nether the less, I'm alive when I shouldn't be, I don't have a criminal record when I really should do and I have stories to tell. Sad ones, difficult ones, ones of danger and ones of stupidity. But when something bad happens, you have three choices. Let it define you, destroy you or strengthen you.

Are you afraid of the dark?

Fears; sometimes motivators but often the reason for anxiety and keeping between the boundaries.
My theory on fears is quite simple, yet little people really spend enough time thinking about it, that not many people understand.
It's only natural for people to be scared of something. I'm scared of spiders and moths.
But these, I do not call fear. Some may say fear is an acronym for False Evidence Appearing Real, but to me, the dictionary pin points it spot on by saying that it is "a distressing emotion aroused by impending danger, evil or pain"
People sometimes say that perhaps the extreme feelings of being scared of spiders/snakes/the dark etc. But without contradicting myself, I believe these are somewhat phobias minus the aspect of fear.
To me, fear is much deeper. Much more psychological and often driven by childhood experiences and/or possible events. My fear is one that is not explainable to anyone because I feel like only myself will ever truly understand what I feel.

My bedroom is a shed. Just a lonely boxed room in the backyard about ten meters from my house. Every night, I walk from the house to my room sometimes for the first time that evening and as I approach my bedroom, I am fearful. I am in fear that as I open that door, my brother is in there.
I know because of my stalking abilities, that it is not difficult to find someone if you need to and I know that if he really wanted to find me, he could and he would kill me. That is my fear. It is not dying, it is not the dark or spiders or snakes or moths. My fear is walking into my room with my brother in there, waiting to kill me.

Sometimes fear can be sub concious. We don't actually realise we are in fear of something, we just are.
this post is stupid but I feel like I needed to explain my theory on fear and my biggest fear. I'm sure no one understands it though because I am saa (indie)pendant and saaa underground and alone 4 eva