the joys of doing nothing.
today was wonderful.
i had much planned and many plans, but instead of following them in order of preference i did something completely different:
i drove.
and found the most amazing place to take photos
[many an adventure shall be had there when you come, sir mitchell]
but lacking any film or camera or people to photograph
[because thats what was needed to take photos there]
i didn't
instead i went for a walk
around a big big big big big lake
[well, half of it, i retreated quickly to my car after the wind picked up and it looked as though the clouds had been holding onto their bladders for too long and were just about ready to pop]
and i drove
and drove
and drove
where?
gosh
i don't know.
but i somehow found myself back in my old suburb
and having fond memories of growing up there
[as memories of growing up tend to be]
i popped into the shopping centre at which i spent much time and i wandered
and i walked.
Into the news agency where me and my best friend had spent hours staring at magazines that had pictures of Hanson in them and getting glares from the old man that owned the place as if he thought we were evil dirty little girls who were ruining his precious magazines, only to discover that the place where those magazines once lay was full of things with more sutiable titles like "at home" and "entertain. inspire. excite", thus i proceeded to check out the bridal magazines instead.
After purchasing a few pages of scratch on shapes that i hadn't seen anywhere else, i wondered some more and it slowly dawned on me that everything still smelt exactly the same.
From the Franklins upstairs, to the Woolworths downstairs, to the little salad/drink bar in the middle that once had an insane collection of tantalising fruit/milk cocktails and now only sold.. two, to the clothing warehouse store which was probably the trendiest shop in the joint that didnt sell clothes for sizes 16+, to the stairs leading up to the bowling alley which my dad [yes, MY dad] had spent a week or two of consecutive nights painting and making absolutely perfect.
And then I almost cried, because somewhere amongst all the memories of brightly lit shops full of people we knew and shop keepers that would occasionally give us the odd free chocolate, to the store we were standing outside of when she told me the name of the boy she had a crush on, but backwards, and made me work it out
everything had mellowed.
There wasn't a single soul my age there. And I can understand why.
The place was probably the most depressing and unappealing shopping centre I've ever set foot in.
[to the point where i proceeded to eat a block of chocolate and a bag of sour worms on the way home to try and make myself feel better]
But it makes me wonder.
Does our memory of things change over time, or is it the things that we remember that change?
Surely a shopping centre cannot possibly go from a bustling brightly lit joyful place full of screaming school kids and jostling teenagers, to a grey drab and utterly miserably building filled with old people, the odd parents and pre-school age child, and one or two business people on their lunch breaks in the space of.. well.. 7 years..
gosh its been a while
at the same time it makes me so so glad we moved here
what on earth would i be doing if we hadn't?
i would probably be the same pimply overweight teenager with no ambition or drive to do much except make it to the next ad break without peeing my pants.
which makes me also think about how amazing God is and wonder at how people can possibly call certain things a co-incidence, when they are clearly not so.
I KNOW it was not merely co-incidence that we moved here
that i went to the school I did
that i decided not to change schools at the end of year 10
that i was asked by a friend to go to the church she did
and that time after time of leaving
I have always come back.
My life isn't based on the accidents or mere left to fate ideals that seem to be so prevelant in society, it is planned and precise and it has direction and quite frankly:
I love that.
joy.