meme travelling livejournal
04/03/2006:
ask me a question about any of the following:
- friends
- sex
- music
- drugs
- love
- livejournal
no matter how rude, sexual, or confidential. then post this in your journal and see what questions you get asked.
***edit*... 05/03/2006, 17.42
It's been one of those days, immersed in that rare sense of knowing; who I am and where this is. I remember a time when such completeness occurred more frequently, and I remember the time when the feeling again rushed me after years of absence.
That memorable night I was in the backseat of my parents' van, possibly on our way home from a holiday as I don't expect I'd have been picked up from anywhere (it is unlikely I'd have ventured out on my own somewhere, not back in those days.) Through the dusty window, I looked up at the stars in the night-time sky for the first time in what could likely have been years, and mother nature squeezed my cheeks like an affectionate aunty. They tingled with a sense of adrenalin; a moment of immense significance doubled with pinching pain. I was looking at the stars, longing for the stars, I was transported home smiling and I wept for the fact I'd been so long gone when the answer was so simple.
Today, on my way home from work, rubbing my wrists where the circulation had been cut by a day wearing my café cuffs, an abandoned supermarket joy-ride enticed me to stop. And I thought, as the trolley hit the edge of the cement path and caught in the ditch; I thought, as I was spat out onto the grass, that I would love to own a hanglider. Then, with grounded upward gaze, sprawled below eucalypt and fir trees with death crackling in my hair, I watched an eagle soaring a thermal current far above me. And in this moment I knew that yes, I'm going to buy myself a hanglider and feel what it's like to fly.
We all start at the beginning and we'll finish at the end.
I am Kelly-Rae, Mother's perfectionist righteousness, and Ms. Jordan, Father's frustrated cynicism. I am part German, part English, part Irish and part Aboriginal. I am part Jewish, part anglo-saxon and a lot of dreaming. I was born wanting to snub the city and embrace the country, and I now live wondering why I'm so alone.
I'm wearing a pink, oriental deco skirt that I bought from an op-shop and have never worn due to disliking it, [mis-]matched with a purple top that screams 'unco' when I up-and-down myself in my full-length mirror. I feel like an exotic, sweaty nylon flower; potted indoors and perplexing visitors, all asking whether or not I'm real and wondering if there's any point to my ironic existence.
and that's all anyone need ever know.
xxoo
ask me a question about any of the following:
- friends
- sex
- music
- drugs
- love
- livejournal
no matter how rude, sexual, or confidential. then post this in your journal and see what questions you get asked.
***edit*... 05/03/2006, 17.42
It's been one of those days, immersed in that rare sense of knowing; who I am and where this is. I remember a time when such completeness occurred more frequently, and I remember the time when the feeling again rushed me after years of absence.
That memorable night I was in the backseat of my parents' van, possibly on our way home from a holiday as I don't expect I'd have been picked up from anywhere (it is unlikely I'd have ventured out on my own somewhere, not back in those days.) Through the dusty window, I looked up at the stars in the night-time sky for the first time in what could likely have been years, and mother nature squeezed my cheeks like an affectionate aunty. They tingled with a sense of adrenalin; a moment of immense significance doubled with pinching pain. I was looking at the stars, longing for the stars, I was transported home smiling and I wept for the fact I'd been so long gone when the answer was so simple.
Today, on my way home from work, rubbing my wrists where the circulation had been cut by a day wearing my café cuffs, an abandoned supermarket joy-ride enticed me to stop. And I thought, as the trolley hit the edge of the cement path and caught in the ditch; I thought, as I was spat out onto the grass, that I would love to own a hanglider. Then, with grounded upward gaze, sprawled below eucalypt and fir trees with death crackling in my hair, I watched an eagle soaring a thermal current far above me. And in this moment I knew that yes, I'm going to buy myself a hanglider and feel what it's like to fly.
We all start at the beginning and we'll finish at the end.
I am Kelly-Rae, Mother's perfectionist righteousness, and Ms. Jordan, Father's frustrated cynicism. I am part German, part English, part Irish and part Aboriginal. I am part Jewish, part anglo-saxon and a lot of dreaming. I was born wanting to snub the city and embrace the country, and I now live wondering why I'm so alone.
I'm wearing a pink, oriental deco skirt that I bought from an op-shop and have never worn due to disliking it, [mis-]matched with a purple top that screams 'unco' when I up-and-down myself in my full-length mirror. I feel like an exotic, sweaty nylon flower; potted indoors and perplexing visitors, all asking whether or not I'm real and wondering if there's any point to my ironic existence.
and that's all anyone need ever know.
xxoo