Nobody understands you
That much is true
I like the same things that you do
We love to sing in the middle of the night
Driving down Woodwork Drive
I havn't seen you in awhile
Missing you is forgotten in the midst of this
How can we say that this isn't fate
When all we do is languish in the sun
Incoherent nonsense, Enigmatic mysteries
Work themselves out when I'm with you
Can we get better than this?
Love is a disease
I think we all agree on that
But I wanna say I love you and everything you do
And I know you do to
You can wake up
And I'll be there
Just because you belong with me

Labels: Poem

Like seriously? I wish I had a freaking drawing board now. Then I can doodle and oodle and God knows what. Okay... I'll come right out and admit it. My mum doesn't read this blog. But in any other cases, I'm setting up another blog. Just so I can bitch.

Labels: Random, Rant

Finally! My freaking homework/assignment/I-don't-knnow-whatcha-call em thingy set by the Journalism tutor is done. Let's all breathe a sigh of relief.

Onto the next 3-4 others. I think the only one that I'm religiously (even then, sparsely) keeping up is my English journal. And that's because I liked it. I'm terrific aren't I?

Labels: Rant, Total Randomness

I woke up at 4 a.m today. Can't remember the last time I'd ever done such a thing. It's getting really really super hard to get some decent stretch of rest these days. I'm putting it down to stress.

Wonder if I should go see the good doctor?

Labels: Random, Rant

There was a goddess in the library. She sat on a pile of velvet cushions reading her book. The goddess did not look up when I came in. If I hadn't known, I would've thought that she was a statue.

The library belonged to my Uncle Theodore. He was a very strange man, but the bombs were dropping all over Europe and now over London. Mother had to send me to him. I didn't wanted to go. She was all I had left. Father was in the war and we didn't know if he would ever come back. I hadn't seen him for months. "Hush now, darling. It'll all be fine." She said. Mother was a very pretty thing. Her large brown eyes made you want to trust her and tell her your darkest secrets and her auburn hair was curled into thick coils that she pinned to the latest styles. She used to laugh and when she did, it was the sound of joy itself-a gurgling, unbarred, tumbling laughter. Now she hardly did anymore. So when she smiled at me at the train station, I was prepared to do anything.

It’ll all be all fine.

I clung on to those words like they were my lifeline as we rolled into endless landscapes of green.

Mrs Fielder was the one who greeted me at the station. How ironic! The whole situation was turning out like one of the old novels I used to read on the window seat back home. But I begrudges her nothing. She was nothing but kind and held my 10 year old hand in her veined wrought ones as we battled ourselves out of the crowd. Before I'd left, Mother gently explained that Uncle Theodore lived alone in the family manor with a gardner and the housekeeper and he wouldn't be used to children running around amok up the banisters. "Behave yourself. I'm warning you. I've got my eyes on you no matter how far off you may be from me." Pursing her lips she set to the task of buttoning up my coat. That quote of hers stayed with me.

Mrs Fielder gave out that sort of aura of a grandmother. She was glad of the new addition to the household, I could tell. Life must be a bore in that cold drafty place. They got into a motorcar that was being driven by a freckled young man. "Larry, meet Glen. He's the gardner." She sniffed her nose in a way that suggested a great disapproval. The lad chose to ignore it, instead he smiled and greeted me in a thickly Welsh accented voice. "Please to meet you." The ride in the motorcar was anything but pleasant.

But this wasn't about Glen. Oh no. Rather, this was about the goddess who was as beautiful and incomprehensible as the enigma.

"Who are you, little one?" Her bright green eyes notice him for the first time as he took a bold step forward. Her long red gold locks that fell to her toes was flicked impatiently aside as she studied him. Glen felt a blush burn his cheeks. Quickly, he used his hand to smooth down his wiry black locks and straightened his shirt that clung to his slight body. "I won't eat you, you know." She smiled. In that moment, he saw her beauty come out in full force. "I enjoy a good Bronte, Austen and a full dose of the Bard. But I do not harm young fledglings." Pausing a moment, she tilted her head in a fashion that young ladies grew out once they discovered boys and God knows what. Glen couldn't help the skip in his heart beat when she did that. Slowly, but gracefully, she closed her book and laid it on top of a pile of thicker volumes. With a swift motion, she slid off her cushions and gently landed on her feet. Her dress of curious ever changing shades of blue and green rustled as she moved towards him.

"What is your name?"

"Glen."

"Glen." She rolled the name around in her mouth. Smiling. " Hello Glen. Would you like a good book?" He nodded furiously. It was strange. The effect that she was having on him was the same feeling that he felt when mother smiled. He was prepared to jump the cliffs if it was her wish.

He followed her like a silent shadow as she perused the shelves with her eyes. Never touching any of the spines, green orbs lingering only for awhile on their titles and then moving on to another tome.

"Aha!" She reached and a leather bound volume fell quietly into her palm. "Here." She handed it to him. There was a new feeling. A sense of foreboding. 'No! Don't touch it! Please. You musn't!!'

"But I want to..."

'Please, Glen... Don't.' The voice pleaded with him.

"I want to..." And his pale fingers dusted the soft surface of the leather. Dreamily, he opened the book and watched in amazement as colours and images surged up into the sky before coming back and gripping him.

'I told you.'

"Silence." The goddess said. Sighing ever so slightly, she returned the book back to it's perch. She hated it when someone disturbed her reading.

Labels: Short stories

I saw him for there on my way home through the mist. He was shivering and he could barely talk through the chattering of his teeth. I saw his form and knew instantly what they'd done. I took off my velvet green school blazer and draped it carefully over his naked malnourished form, mindful of the angry welts and black bruises.

I sat him down in the kitchen. Mother wouldn't be back till dinner and Father... Well, Father would never be home again. He winces slightly as he sits down but I turn and ignore it, favoring the motions of putting the kettle to boil and retrieving the tea things, cake tins from the overhead cupboard. I set the food in front of him but did not linger to see if he ate. Running to the bathroom upstairs, I run the water into the tub and ran back down again. "Let me see." I said quietly. "Please let me see."

He tilts his head up and I brushed the dirty rusty brown caked bangs from his face. I sigh. He sports a black eye and a cut on the lips. The healing gash on his cheek had reopened and a thin trail of red made a trail of a bloody tear. Inside me I felt anger, frustration, disgust and utter helplessness well up. I kiss the top of his forehead quickly as to not frightened him. I know he doesn't mind, but it bothers me.

How can family be so cruel towards each other?

He didn't have a name for himself save the vulgar words that his father throws at him. I called him Yan and he liked it. He couldn't have had been any older than 12, but he was already as tall as my 16 year old self. When we first made aquintance, he'd been cowering under the rose bushes my mother had mooned over but I had patiently watered, nurtured and cared for. His bright grey eyes stare at me from the darkness of the bush. "Who are you?" I asked, noting in my guts that this boy should be approached to like a wild animal. And I was right. He was hurt, I could see that his light blue plaid shirt was dotted with blood. I said nothing, but merely crouched down and stratched out a hand. He looked at it warily. After awhile, something in his eyes clicked. He sensed I meant no harm. Hesitantly, he placed a cold hand in my sweaty and clammy summer ridden one.

It had been a routined. Every single time, he would come to me after his father was tired with him. He never uttered a word, but I knew he was able to read. I had taught him myself. Every single time, dutifully, I would clean his wounds, dress them, give him something to eat, read to him or let him share the book with me. Come dusk and he'd be off again. Back to his father. And the next time, the cycle would repeat itself. The wounds much worse, the cuts deeper, the bruises darker. He'd wait for me under the rose bush, unfailingly. I'd never told anyone about him. I'd not even trust myself to write it down. Though I'd went to the Confessionals last Sunday and told Father DeClan about him. I could hear the old pastor breathe in the space behind the screen, but I knew he had put it down to my childish imaginations. Adults. When that got to that age, they think there is logic and reason for everything.

The bath water was quickly stained a light shade of pink-the kind you got when you mixed too much water with your strawberry juice. I soaped his hair and begun from there. Today it was worse. The weren't only belt markings and cuts and bruises. There had been a trail of deep red blood that flowed and dried between his legs and there was a cake of dried semen on his abdomen. New bruises in the shaped of hands adorned his side. It looked as if whoever had made them had held him from behind and it only added to the fact that his backside was also bruised like a flower that centred around his hole. The thought made me sick. I must've been trembling because he took my soapy hands in his warm ones and kissed them. "I'm so sorry..." I whispered, the words tumbling out before I could stop it. Tears were beginning to swim in my blue eyes. He placed his hands on the tub edges and used them as leverage. He made sloshes of water on the blue tiled bathroom floor when he came up and kissed me.

I didn't fight him. Nor did I stop what happened next on the wet floor.

We continued our ritual after that, pretending everything was normal when it was not. As usual, I sat next to him with my book. Yan stopped me, shaking his head. Instead he pulls me on top his lap and we read Jane Eyre together. I took in his newly shampooed hair, his still soap scented body that still had traces of the slaves that I had applied on him. I drank him in as the late afternoon sun illuminated the tiny kitchen space we were in. I ran my hand against the fabric of my father's shirt that I'd nicked from the attic. I memorized the way the damp brunette locks fell across his eyes as they screwed up in concentration. I traced every cut, scar, bruise on his face, lips and neck... Oh, his neck! Brushing my lips ever so softly against the warm milken skin, it begun again what we had started on the the bathroom floor.

I had a strange foreboding feeling in my chest. The kind that old people could tell that there was a storm coming, the kind that mothers could sense with that their children were not well. It was a dull and heavy thing that choked me from the inside. As he stepped out into the growing twilight, I wanted to scream and beg him to stay and let me take care of him. Forever. I wanted to pledge myself to him. I was aching to cling on to him and never let him go.

"Yan." I let the word roll out. He turned back at me. Smiling for the first time, it was like the sun had suddenly come out from its sleep. He kissed me and whispers, "Thank you." Stepping off the step, he walked off to the edge of the forest and let the darkness envelope him completely. I didn't know how long it was that I'd stood there. But when my mother came home, she found me in a featal position, curled up as if in pain by the back door.

I wish I could say that the foreboding sense was wrong. I wish I could say that I'd seen him again, bloodied but alive. But the truth of the matter was that I never saw him again. Not in this lifetime at least.

Labels: Short stories

She regards me with her cool green eyes. It almost hurts to look. I wish she wouldn't do that, it's uncomfortable. "You have not touched your tea." I pursed my lips but pick the teacup delicately and did just that. Deanna Leight was my grandmother. And I hated my summers with her.

Deanna is my father's mother. Growing up, I saw more of my mother's side of the family than I did of my dad's. That suited me just fine. The Reiner clan was a loud and boisterous bunch of people and it was always fun when I was with my cousins. Then the news came when I was eight that Grandpa Leight had had a heart attack. I remembered that ride with an extra sense of clarity. Mum and Dad sat silently in the front while I sat, huddled in the leather backseat. The radio was off and all I had for distraction was the passing streetlamps and blurs of speeding cars. Even as a child I was always preceptive of everything around me. I knew something was wrong.

He'd died while we were on our way there. I saw Deanna for the first time that night through my sleep leadened eyes. Her sharp features were accentuated by the sharp pull of her auburn hair that was streaked with grey back to form a bun. When she saw Dad, she rose up and embraced him. He towered over her and while they shared the same aristocratic cheekbones and lips, that was about the only thing that linked them pyhsically. Dad had copperish-brown hair that was cropped short and dark brown eyes like melted chocolate. Everything about that meeting was fuzzy. But I remembered one thing. When her green eyes met mine, I shivered.

The summers after that I had spent with her instead of my mother's family, to my dismay. Deanna lived in one of those 1950's houses that you see in the television. Worse still, she lived miles away from civilization-the nearest gas station was about 3 miles right off the main road. For every year till I went to college, I felt abandoned when my parents drove away in their Impala. And every year I pitched a fuss about going. I would throw tantrums for weeks leading up to my 'isolation' and throw an even longer sulk when I got back.

"Your head is in the clouds." Her voice brings me out of my thoughts. I smile and say nothing. She's lying in bed, her hair now almost completely grey and braided. She closes her eyes and I let a breath that I didn't realise I was holding. "Don't stay in the clouds too long. They're a beautiful place to be but you could fall really hard." I nod my head and tuck a stray lock of my jet black hair behind my ear. I had decided to dye my hair black and cut it to one of those bobs just to spite on my Dad. Mum never said anything. Somewhere in my hearts of hearts, I think she enjoys the emotional problems I'm giving him. I got all my looks from her save for the green eyes. That, I was told, was a Leight emblem. So I wore brown contacts that gave me hazel looking eyes.

Deanna had been ill for a long time now. Dad had presuaded her to come stay with us but all the while she'd refused. She 'enjoyed her solitude' as she said. I sat by her bedside for the last time. Come September, I was off to college. An art college in Los Angeles. Dad wasn't too happy, but when ever was he when it was about me? I should think that Lulu and Mike wouldn't turn out like me. They were normal. They both had my mother's eyes. Ocean blue eyes. My younger siblings were the perfect angels of the family. I was apreading my wings and flying away. As far away as I can go. So now, I'm just doing my duties.

I read a magazine to while away the time. Some stupid toe rag that had a guts to call itself a publication. Nobody told me anything and I didn't ask. My butt was falling asleep but I can't leave this chair. The bright afternoon sun was filtering in through the plastic blinds of South Mercy Hospital. It was peaceful here, I had to admit. I wished I had my sketch book to sketch my surroundings. Deanna has been here for the past three weeks but I can see no machine hooked to her like a thousand lifelines. She doesn't say much, as she always does whenever we are together. I don't understand it really. Why do I feel so against her?

I left the cold white walls at half-past eight. Two weeks later, I was under the warm California sunshine. I never saw Deanna again. Not alive at least.

It was the 5th of November and I was in bed after a party. Glen and I were just about to get frisky when my cell phone started to buzz. "Hello?" I didn't bother keeping the irritated edge out of my voice. There was a pause. "Hello? Who is this?" Glen raised an eyebrow at me and started nibbling my earlobe.

"Mae? It's Dad." I swatted him away. "It's about your gran."

Pulling the covers around me, I sat for the next 20 minutes listening to my father on the otherside of the line. Deanna had died last night, in her sleep. They had notified the funeral home and could I come back on the next flight? Glen pouted at me and I grimaced. "Sure. Why not?" I said. The next thing I knew I was on the frontporch of my childhood home. Mom greeted me at the door and enveloped me in her arms. Lulu and Mike were in the kitchen munching on cookies and my Reiner grandparents were there with them.

The funeral was in the afternoon. And it was raining. God it was raining. One moment outside and we were soaked to the bone. At the graveyard I saw more Leights than I had ever seen in one lifetime. There was an Auntie Jude and a Grand-Uncle Ted and a million myriad others who I could never remember. They all were in an array of heights, weights and physical features. But most of them, at least the older ones had the same brilliant Leight green feline eyes. I felt as I did that night in the hospital. I felt that same shiver up my spine.

Labels: Short stories

Attended an event yesterday. It was an environmental themed talk by Matthias Gelber. Didn't know who the dude was then, but now I do. And it was awesome. Pardon the lack of exclaimation marks. I'm still sleepy and thus the lack of hyperness.

Labels: Rant

I don't know how this is going to fare, but I just had to put it up. It gave me the bejeebees because I know how the story will end. (Don't we all?) Now I can hardly wait to watch it. The sixth Harry Potter film.

Labels: entertainment, harry potter, movie

I'm reaallly knackered today. Had first Gym meet and Boy. I'm going to hunt down the arsehole who told me it was going to be a breeze. Just updated my blog. Made links to my fanfiction profile, my flickr profile and my most favourite place to get a fix. So far, that had been all. The red visitor is here. I wish I could swear, but seriously, my mum reads this blog. So I'll just head down the fudgen' moist chocolate cherry topped cake with whip cream and sprinkles of cinnamon road.

Labels: college, pain, Rant, Work

I'm knackered. Don't mind me.

Labels: Rant

Yea~ New layout! Thanks yummylolly! You're an awesome designer and I'm sure you'll make an even awesomer mummy. Congrats on your latest additions. =3 Hugs and kisses from me here.

Labels: designs, Total Randomness

Okayyy...

So I've got one homework from the scary lady that I havn't done, around 3 assignments that need my attention like little babies of my womb, and some other iffy stuffs that I kinda gotta see to too.

So why am I still here? You know what? That's a pretty darn good question. I'd like to know the answer too.

Labels: Random, School, Work

Stress. The silent, lingering, nauseating feeling that had been clawing at me for the past few days. I'm feeling rather stressed out by the whole predicament of me being the secretary of the CF Fundraising thing. Should I continue with the notion that this is glorifying God and that subsequently brings me the compulsory 2 hours for my co-curriculum.


WHAT SHOULD I DO??? I don't think I can take this much things all at the same time. I can't breathe anymore.

Saw Terminator Salvation the other day. And OMG. Sam Worthington.

Hot. Sizzling earthshaking hot awesomeness. Dripping and oozing from every sexy pore.

Sigh. I obviously take pleasure in gazing at very hot men. Am currently feeling extremely bloated. Had just finished my first meeting with the CF Fund raising committee as a secretary. Now, I'm just sitting here and going 'Why the hell did I take them up on that in the first place??'

Only God knows. I feel rather overwhelmed by all this. And if Michelle's dark omen was anything to go by, I'm in some serious shit. Anyone who knows me well enough knows that responsibility and me don't usually go in the same sentence. Like never in the same sentence. Being a course rep is hard enough now I have to be the fecking bloody bleeding blooming secretary????? God help me. It's not that I hate duties and all that. No. I relish the opportunity to take the helm. But this is some serious shit here.

I've got to go to Krispy Kremes and ask them to sponsor our Fund Raising thing. Honestly, I'll be the first to admit that I'm a super hyper energizer bunny. But this is so totally out of my head! I really need help.

Should I bail now, while the cause is still young and I'm not in too deep, or should I just trudge on glumly, gritting my teeth to the chant that I will receive a cert by the end of all his knish-nak?

Ugh. Someone give me a filter between my brain and mouth.

Labels: Random, Rant, School