iwrotethisforyou

Completely and shamelessly stolen from: iwrotethisforyou


You will not remember much from school.

School is designed to teach you how to respond and listen to authority figures in the event of an emergency. Like if there's a bomb in a mall or a fire in an office. It can, apparently, take you more than a decade to learn this. These are not the best days of your life. They are still ahead of you. You will fall in love and have your heart broken in many different, new and interesting ways in college or university (if you go) and you will actually learn things, as at this point, people will believe you have a good chance of obeying authority and surviving, in the event of an emergency. If, in your chosen career path, there are award shows that give out more than ten awards in one night or you have to pay someone to actually take the award home to put on your mantlepiece, then those awards are more than likely designed to make young people in their 20's work very late, for free, for other people. Those people will do their best to convince you that they have value. They don't. Only the things you do have real, lasting value, not the things you get for the things you do. You will, at some point, realise that no trophy loves you as much as you love it, that it cannot pay your bills (even if it increases your salary slightly) and that it won't hold your hand tightly as you say your last words on your deathbed. Only people who love you can do that. If you make art to feel better, make sure it eventually makes you feel better. If it doesn't, stop making it. You will love someone differently, as time passes. If you always expect to feel the same kind of love you felt when you first met someone, you will always be looking for new people to love. Love doesn't fade. It just changes as it grows. It would be boring if it didn't. There is no truly "right" way of writing, painting, being or thinking, only things which have happened before. People who tell you differently are assholes, petrified of change, who should be violently ignored. No philosophy, mantra or piece of advice will hold true for every conceivable situation. "The early bird catches the worm" does not apply to minefields. Perfection only exists in poetry and movies, everyone fights occasionally and no sane person is ever completely sure of anything. Nothing is wrong with any of this. Wisdom does not come from age, wisdom comes from doing things. Be very, very careful of people who call themselves wise, artists, poets or gurus. If you eat well, exercise often and drink enough water, you have a good chance of living a long and happy life. The only time you can really be happy, is right now. There is no other moment that exists that is more important than this one. Do not sacrifice this moment in the hopes of a better one. It is easy to remember all these things when they are being said, it is much harder to remember them when you are stuck in traffic or lying in bed worrying about the next day. If you want to move people, simply tell them the truth. Today, it is rarer than it's ever been.

(People will write things like this on posters (some of the words will be bigger than others) or speak them softly over music as art (pause for effect). The reason this happens is because as a society, we need to self-medicate against apathy and the slow, gradual death that can happen to anyone, should they confuse life with actually living.)






http://www.iwrotethisforyou.me/2012/06/truth-as-it-currently-stands.html

A whine and some wine on the plane

When the plane hit mild turbulence for the first time in my trip, directly after I pulled my laptop out for the first time, my panicked thought was.

'Wait, was this one of those planes that you're not allowed to use ANY electronic equipment on?' because I have been on those planes, and I couldn't remember if this was one of those or if I had heared the flight attendants make any sort of announcement about this. My second, far less rational thought was, 'Oh well. This is what they get for turning off the inflight entertainment system on a 15 hour flight to Los Angles'. See, to me, if one person's inflight entertainment is working and they are happily enjoying watching Marky Mark Wahlburg flaunt himself all over the screen, just because 200 other passengers don't have this pleasure doesn't mean you should turn the whole thing off. At least, thats what I think. Apparently I am incorrect. 15 dull hours worth of incorrect.

So now, to amuse herself, my window seat companion is now going through her 4^th Jacobs Creek Wine bottle (which I personally think is very inconsiderable of her because although she is a quiet, pleasant drunk, it means she is definitely going to have to get up in the flight AGAIN at some point to pee, disturbing me and the man to my left again too) (yes, you did read that right, I am in the middle seat, aka: Torture row). It has also left me with little option but to pull out my potentially plane-system-interfearing-and-then-violent-crashing-burning-horrific-death- laptop, to record these events, to save myself from going insane.

I think it is universally acknowledged that flying overnight anywhere in economy is the only time it is ever acceptable to sleep like this.

Unfortunately, I am a particularly special case, and with my blessed 6'2 form, cannot reach my lap and am forced to perform a knee massage on the passenger in front of me. You're welcome you reclining asshole.

Another thing I'm paranoid about is getting diseased. Both people on either side of me are coughing and sneezing. I'd like to take a moment here to thank my mum for getting sick last week, which hopefully (because I didn't catch it) reinforced my immunity to this specific strain. Also, if anyone touches or scratches their hair at all... they have nits. I'm sorry. They just. Do.

Don't get me wrong. I am so, super stoked to be on this plane. To be able to fly anywhere at all puts me in such a minority group and I'm extraordinarily grateful.The chances of me getting on this plane at all were extraordinarily slim, as with Dad's job I get staff flight prices but with the risk of not getting a seat at all.

If someone misses their flight. I get a seat. Yes, I am she who prays for rainy days and bad traffic on the morning of my flight, preferably around the rich suburbs of Sydney though so that one of the people who misses checkin is a first class passenger. That's the special part of my situation. I'm horribly cramped, bored and slightly nauseous – but unlike my fellows around me and through only sheer luck rather than because of any personal accomplishment, status or hard work, I know of what awaits behind the mysterious, heavy, dark blue divider curtain. First Class. The land of milk and honey my friends, the land of milk and honey...

Attractive flight attendants dressed in gold glittering vests, flit between seats like angels, offering you every beverage, entertainment or comfort the world offers. They take your coat and hang it in your own private coat locker. You have more leg space than you know what to do with, in fact, your seat is actually more like a suite. You have about 20 different buttons to adjust the exact position of your chair and can even, if you so wish, command it to perform a back massage or or gently vibrate for the duration of the trip. The little baggies handed out with toiletries contain more bathroom products that you personally do for yourself at home and the pyjamas given to you are soft, light, breathable cotton which beg to be wrapped under the large, flurry red doona provided.

Do all you econ travellers hate me right now? It's okay. I hate me a little right now too.

One thing economy does have which first class does not, is a sense of community. There is no pretentiousness here. We've all gotten over the fact that we'll have to work out a rotational system for our elbows to use the armrests, we've all co-developed (especially middle chair me) a system of eating which required an elbows tucked in 'attack from above' approach, much like a hawk. We've all come to realise that in an emergency, the only real people with any chance of making it to the exits are the people in the exit row and the rest of us are all doomed, and we've worked our way through accepting this together. We've rubbed groins with strangers as we battle our way to the bathrooms and back. It's a bonding experience like no other.

I wonder if I pitch it like this to the first class passengers they'll want to swap seats with me...

(extra. Make that, 5 wines, and 3 more toilet trips...)

The Nutella Chronicals

It's become soul consuming and I'm fast realising that I'm in deep. DEEP trouble.
Nutella.
It's become (to put it mildly) a bit of a problem for me. A problem which began somewhere around the time that I noticed this soft, smooth, brown, succulent devil spread can be drunk as easily as water.

All too often I find myself alone in the kitchen, armed with a teaspoon, battling my inner Nutella obsessed leprechaun.

Like I said. It's become a bit of a problem.


It all came to a head when Danielle went to the pantry yesterday and opened it.


No nutella.

She looked at me firstly in panic, then in slight disgust, then... in pure, undiluted rage.

'Where. Is. The. Nutella?' she said slowly, menacingly and began to advance towards me, brandishing her bread knife.

"Danielle I swear to God I don't know. I asked YOU to hide it from ME remember!?' (This moment of sanity occurred in one of my rare lucid moments, possibly while the leprechaun was napping).

She pauses. Somehow the fog of her Nutella blood lust clears a little. We hear a snicker from the study.

"Mum?"

No reply. We instantly know she's guilty because our mother had super powers and can hear anything being said from anywhere in the house.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"

Mum: "I hid it... again"

We both stared at one another in shock. It is a rare moment when mum is THIS involved in our food choices. (Note: Crap. I just typed 'mom' and had to backspace. I'm going to hell)

Danielle turned on the puppy eyes: Mum? Where is it? You know I can be trusted. It's Elyse who can't
Elyse: It's true. I can't
Mum: No, no. All children must be out of the room before I get the Nutella out.
Danielle: please! Elyse will close her eyes!
Mum: No. I don't trust her
Elyse: Good. You shouldn't. I can't be trusted with the Nutella.
Danielle: Elyse! Please! Just don't peek.
Elyse: I'd promise... but I'll break that promise.
Danielle (getting desperate now) Pleeeease mum. Just show me where it is! We can hide it again after somewhere else.
Mum: No! This is the best hiding place I've ever found.

We were at an impasse.

Mum: Okay. Here's what we're going to do. You have to cover your head with my jacket Elyse, and you too Danielle. And THEN I'll get the Nutella.
Danielle: WHAT!?
Mum: Thats the condition

She left us no choice

And this is what Wednesday night at the Glynn household consisted of. All because of my unhealthy obsession with Nutella. If anyone knows of any support groups, please hook me up.

Life

Is it you? Or me? Or maybe it's all of us. Maybe we need to stop pretending that this is a story line to the next great Shakespearian play and realise this for what it is. This is it. The be all and end all. Life. How is yours going to end up? When are we going to realise that we will never be this exact age again? In this time, in this moment again? We can't just store it away to come back to it. It's going to be over one day. How is this only just hitting me now? Surely the universe didn't exist before I was born. Surely there will be international chaos in the event of my death. Right?

My life? I want my life to be this open adventure. This world of excitement and travel and possibilities. And maybe I'm just naive like that. Maybe one day in my travels I'll come across something I can't unsee, something I can't get over. And then I'll just want to hole up and find a warm pair of arms to entomb myself in for the rest of my days. But for the moment, I'm just plain inspired. The rose tint is not just covering my glasses, but is infused in my soul. Things are a mess, but I can change it. Life is unfair, but things work out. Everyone, and everything is inherently good. Somewhere along the way for some people, things went horrifically wrong. And some times, in the silence and solitude and loneliness that is night, I mourn for these people. Because I think God is mourning for them. But mostly its easy to just see smiles in the world. To only see twinkles in eyes and lovers holding hands. To see screaming children and admire the frazzled mothers who, even after only 3 hours sleep, can pick them up and rock them and sooth them with all the love in the world which they themselves might never even have had experienced. But it's in us all. Its instinctual.

I want to eat delicious food. And then I want to starve. Both for a little while. Just so I can know. Just so I can experience and discover. I want to eat disgusting things and vomit afterwards, just to say that I did so. God forbid I ever waste food, or eat it standing at the fridge. Food is the experience. Taste it. Combine the textures, the flavours. Give them names, make it a story. It'll be a tragic story in the end, but a story none the less.

Life is a story. That is all this is going to come down to I think. That's all we'll have in the end. I don't just want to type my story. I want it to be scrap booked and designed. I want pictures and paintings. I'll design the front cover and write the blurb. I'm going to sticky tape movie stubs and photos and music to the pages. You can do whatever the hell you want with yours. This one is mine. Sometimes I'm going to rip out pages and want to burn them. I hope I don't. I hope I stick them back in. So that one day, when I tell my story, someone will know what I went through. And they'll see the crinkles in the paper, know the pain, and be able to learn. Learn for their own lives. learn about me. I'm going to make up my own words and never apologise if you can't understand them. Sometimes you'll have to sound them out, and work out, just from the sounds of the letters, what I'm trying to say. Maybe you'll even have to lick them. Just to taste the experience. Smell the paper. Use all your senses. That's what this life is about. 

Remember to breathe deeply. Enjoy the taste of air, the taste of water, and the taste of chlorine as you bob underwater trying to have your little sister guess the words you are trying to say. Family is everything. Letting someone into your family (like a life partner) is the biggest, most important decision you will ever make in your life. That person needs to come first. Even before you. And there should be nothing they can say, nothing they can do to turn you from them. Thats why its important to chose carefully. Chose someone who would never, never deliberately hurt you. Because you're giving them all the power and opportunities to. 

This is what I've learned so far. This is what I believe. This is the cotton candy I have wrapped around my hands and try to stick to everything I touch. I'm in love with life, and my story so far. And it's so damn exciting to see where its going next and whose book its going to combine with.