Tuesday, 15 September 2015

Sacred Items


Today I discovered that my dad has thrown out two boxes of toys - one of Fischer Price doll house pieces and another full of Barbie dolls.  Despite the fact that I haven't opened either of these boxes in over a year, the thought of them gone forever makes me feel like crying.  Within those little plastic pieces was the essence of childhood and nostalgia.  Those pieces had distinct places in a house, those Barbie dolls had personalities, and attached to every single piece were countless forgotten memories.

Not too long ago I read a lovely little piece on this topic, which can be found HERE.  It's all about the idea of holding onto physical items and never letting go.  We relate them back to memories we had with them, fabulous experiences.  They're tangible reminders that live close to our hearts, and once they're gone we feel a consuming sense of loss.  Even though it's not, the memory seems to be gone.

I remember the personalities of those Barbie dolls.  Rapunzel was always the perfect protagonist, the Bratz doll the mean girl, and the horse riding Barbie would always have to be the boy, because we never had a Ken.  Perhaps if I could hold them in my hands I'd remember the pathetic stories we used to tell with them, but I don't anymore.

I do remember the people though.  I don't know why, but I always relate the people to the thing and the thing to the people.  I remember when we transitioned from innocent 5 year olds to somewhat sordid 8 year olds.  I remember SH laughing at our inappropriate role-plays, and LC and I reenacting scenes that could rival Mean Girls.  My sister and I would spend hours of our never-ending down time moving around our gorgeous dolls, changing their clothes and organising societies, and the symbol of all these hours of simple entertainment is now gone.

I reckon people are part of the reason these items seem so sacred.  Even when these significant characters leave your life, you'll always have the items they left behind, the symbols of your memories.  That way they're never really gone.  I still remember that igloo tent we would hide in, or the kitchen set everyone enjoyed role-playing with.  These items seem like real beings, breathing living beings that don't deserve to live in bins for the rest of their lives.  At least I can say I gave the kitchen set to one of said role-playing friends.  Maybe now when she looks at it she thinks of me.  Maybe those memories have been enough of a reason for her to keep it.

I can safely say I'm a hoarder, so that kitchen set would probably have never met the bin in my hands.  Maybe this hoarding nature is the reason I create physical evidence of memories, such as diaries or this blog.  Maybe this is the reason I refuse to throw out crumbling phone cases or various random monumental artefacts of my past.  Maybe this is the reason I still let the past dictate who I am now, because I have problems with letting go.

This year I took a huge step in getting rid of all those stuffed animals.  First they were collecting dust in my room, then they were stored in a box, and finally, one day, they were just gone.  My sister and I used to throw parties for them.  I used to kiss every single one goodnight so that none of them would feel left out.  I feel like I've repeated Toy Story 3.  I'm a little late, but I'm letting go of the sacred items of my past.

Although I feel like those Fischer Price pieces and Barbie dolls could've been given to a new owner to make memories with, maybe it's a good thing that they're no longer here to clutter the house, to haunt the person I've become and am becoming.  There'll always be new memories and items to treasure, and I can't keep everything or there won't be enough room inside myself to allow new things in, to grow.

Love,
M

Thursday, 10 September 2015

Little Miss Pretentious


This post was originally supposed to be entitled "How Disappointing", because lately it seems that I'm able to identify some sort of flaw in every single person, including the people I used to think were just so great, and that's a little disappointing.  But then I thought, maybe this outlook has more to do with myself than other people.  If I'm looking at everyone and thinking about how wrong they are or how disappointing they are, doesn't that mean I must be up here on my high horse?

I used to be one of those extremely unconfident kids who thought everyone was awesome, and I was the only one who wasn't.  If, for some reason, I managed to identify someone as not-awesome-in-any-way, then I wouldn't be their friend; simple as that.  But now that I've grown into the older, wiser and more self-respecting person I am today, pretty much everyone has begun to seem less than perfect.

Not even a year ago I used to look up to this particular friend of mine as pretty much the kindest person I've ever met.  I couldn't imagine her being mean.  I even wrote somewhere deep in one of my many notebooks that I aspired to be her.  It's just disappointing when someone you used to have this opinion of proves you wrong.  It turns out she has that immature mean streak in her, where she intentionally says something she thinks will hurt you in the spur of the moment.  She can turn something insignificant into a rivalry of sorts, and the petty politics begin.  It's sad when you realise someone you thought was perfectly kind is actually just shy, even though it was inevitably going to happen.

I've had so many friends who I used to be so comfortable with back when I hadn't realised people could actually be condescending.  As we've grown up within the short space of two years I feel as if everything's changed.  I look back to the time when we used to act like 8 year olds at 12, prancing around like explorers.  I can't imagine her doing that now.  I remember the time when we were sitting on the wall and she said to me, "We're normal right?".  I barely talk to her anymore.

The amount of conversations I've had about how aloof people seem is alarming.  I used to blame their loftiness on the influence of those around them at the time, but the fact that they now do the same whether others are there or not mitigates that blame.  I still reckon they've become these people due to influence, but it's sad that the influence has managed to change them to this extent.  It's sad that I think this is who they are now.  The old them is never coming back.

But then, maybe I've become aloof too.  Maybe I'm the one who thinks I'm too good for everyone.

I feel so disappointed by the unintended fake attitudes people seem to put on.  They don't know they're doing it because nowadays saying what others want to hear is our default, even if we contradict ourselves with the next person.  One girl I know has told me countless times that she loves the honesty of my blog.  But then, in front of those who had been critical about it, she put it down.  She made something that means a lot to me out as something negative, to be joked about or made fun of.  She did say sorry, but comments like these still sting, and I don't particularly care if she recognises herself in this because my immediate forgiveness was an example of me saying what she wanted to hear.

There's this girl I used to think had amazing social skills who bases everything on 'groups'.  The only reason I thought she was so great was because she was trying so hard.  We had time to kill and she insisted we sit in the vicinity of other people, just in case they wanted to talk to us.  When I brought up something I'd overheard she immediately jumped to the most outrageous scandalous conclusions because she seems to think people actually do that.  I think she wants to be part of something like that, and this attitude disappoints me.

Girls who I thought were so funny are actually attention seekers.  Every time we see each other she does the same thing, and it's just not funny any more.  When we were kids she used to change our many performances at the last minute, while we were on 'stage', just so she could be even more the star than she already was.  At the time I never got frustrated.  I thought it was just her, that she was awesome like that.  I can't imagine thinking that now.

In class there's this girl next to me who laughs at every bad joke, because I feel like she just wants to belong.  It's another example of giving people what they want to hear.  Sometimes while I sit there in silence I just want to roll my eyes, but how pretentious is that?

I see so many flaws in so many people, because I'm only beginning to apply the knowledge of 'nobody's perfect' to life.  But if I refuse to be acquainted with anyone with problems, then I don't think I'll be left with anyone to be friends with.  There's no point in trash talking people's behaviour in my head when I'm just as flawed as them.  There's no point sitting there thinking I'm better when I may as well join in and I may find that I'm completely wrong.

I reckon everyone's fake and somewhat attention seeking, so there's no point in being a pretentious bitch when I'm exactly the same.

Love,
M

Monday, 7 September 2015

An Eye Fetish

It seems that the only thing within my drawing capability is eyes.

I'm going through an undoubtedly irritating lazy period of my life, where studying is not a priority and neither is eating healthy.  School is the most tiring and bothersome experience, and I find myself doodling in my books too often - and it always starts with those eyes.  This is the first time I've found myself not caring to this extent.


On every page of my Religion and Philosophy booklet is a new eye.  I look forward to moving through the booklet, because as soon as we turn the page I have an excuse to not pay attention again.


People are evil, people are good, people are pointless; true or false?  Apparently all are true.


When our purpose in life is no longer to survive, we turn our human nature of acquiring things towards money and expensive cars and houses - according to the video playing while I was drawing this.


The lyrics to some song from the 60's called Turn, Turn, Turn by The Byrds is on the right.


I don't understand patriarchy.  It's so stupid.


Why do people prefer darkness to light?  It's easier ?

I like the idea of loving your neighbour.  If we were just nice to every single person we encountered, in theory wouldn't we be happier?  How does being condescending make us happy?


Drawn on the yellow parchment of my tearing commerce folder.  My teacher was explaining civil and criminal law.  It seems that decisions are made through debates, and arguing is the only way to solve our problems.


Drawn by the enviably perfect AM.


Accompanying a witch made of parabolas, exponentials and hyperbolas.


I'm just a little bit sad that I will no longer be taking Latin next year.  I love the idea of translating poetry and stories written years and years ago.  History is all about human opinions of the past, and it directly correlates to human nature today.  Latin sounds so romantic and intellectual.


I want to live in a big city when I grow up.


A failed attempt at colour.  Could this pass as abstract?


I used to think maths was common-sense, but after this year I realise it's so much more difficult than that.  I almost gave up.  I think I like maths again though.  The other day I turned on some music and opened the textbook for the first time since term started.  After a few questions the logic became relaxing once again.


Drawn the day my laptop was confiscated.  I didn't know what to do with myself.


Back in 300BC, Aristotle proposed the geocentric model, because we actually thought we were the centre of the universe.  It's a pity we're just one planet, orbiting one star, located on the edge of one of many many galaxies of stars.  We're so meaninglessly insignificant, and that's just a little beautiful.


I didn't know this before, but black holes are just incredibly heavy remnants of supernovas, their gravity so strong that they attract everything, even light.

Wouldn't being an astronaut be such a fulfilling life experience?

Love,
M