the games we play...

So,
remember when we were kids, and we'd play al those different make-believe games? fairies, mothers and fathers, sometimes we'd re-enact movies or tv shows we'd seen. you could play for hours with your friends, or even sometimes on your own, and you'd get completely absorbed in the game, so much so that you'd lose touch with reality. it was like a vivid dream, and when you stopped playing, you woke up. we'd play those games to pass the time, or just because it was fun. i might be reading too much into it, but i guess, deep down, it was kind of like an escape. like, the worlds we created when we played our make-believe games were so much better than the real world. so much more fun, and the possiblities for who you could be or what you could do were endless. you could be ten feet tall, or a fairy with magical powers, or own a hundred horses, or you could fly. the sky wasn't even the limit, you could go further than that.

at some point, we got older, and became 'mature' (as we liked to think we were), and suddenly make-believe games were no longer the done thing. they weren't 'cool'. ah, the days when fitting in and conforming were all we worried about. we tried to grow up so fast, and act like adults when we were still just kids. and then, in a flash, our childhood's gone, and we have to suddenly be real grown-ups, with real responsibilities, and it's scary. like, it's happening all too fast.

and that's when we decide, we don't want to grow up after all, so we start playing make-believe again. even more so than before. only now, our games aren't acknowledged as much, and we don't admit we're playing them. we sometimes play by ourselves, sometimes with others. we're playing all these different games, to cover up truths, or run from them, to block out painful or inconvenient realities, or just to escape. or maybe we're trying to avoid facing up to the fact that we can't change who we are. like the games we play, the reasons for playing them are endless. so i guess we never really stop playing games. first we play children's games, then we get older and say we don't play games, but really we're just kids dressing up in our parent's clothes. and later, when it's really time to grow up, we don't want to. sometimes i guess we just want to go back to the sandpit and play fairies again. because life was so much simpler then.

Regrets, Misinterpretations, am i just paranoid?

So,
ever had a night or day, where you should have had a really good time, but because of a range of contributing factors, you just couldn't quite enjoy yourself? and then afterward, you feel really low, and you don't really know why? you just can't pinpoint the exact thing that's bothering you?
or maybe you do know, but you can't explain it out loud because to anyone else but you it sounds really stupid?
yeah. that's me right now.
as you might have guessed.
not a happy vegemite. at all.
quite silly, seeing as it's mothers day. i should be hanging out with my mum, not moping around and blogging on my own.
you know what just occurred to me? blogs are supposed to be anonymous. well, if you want them to be. and mine...well isn't quite so anonymous anymore. seeing as people know it's mine. i just...killed the anonymity.
nice work.
anyway. back to the subject of this post.
so last nite was...not quite what i expected it to be. and i feel rather guilty, like i didn't spend enough time with the people that truly matter. those that are always there.
why do we do that? we spend so much time trying to impress or catch the attention of the people that we know deep down will never be there for us, or who don't appreciate us, and then we leave behind the people that matter, the ones that are there to dry our tears, make us smile, listen, and love. and eventually, if we spend too much time chasing those that don't matter, while ignoring those that do, we'll end up alone.
kinda sucks, doesn't it?
i sincerely hope that this moment of epiphany for me will cause me to stop taking things for granted so that i don't end up alone.
adios.

how can one have moments like this, see natural wonders like this, and not believe?

she is my idol.

a little bit of Heaney appreciation

i just felt the need, mid-way through planning my Beowulf SAC for tomorrow, to give credit to a wonderful Irish poet, who enabled me through the reading of his words to unlock my own word-hoard and be inspired after a long dry period devoid of creative thought, to start writing again. Thank you, Seamus (not Sean!) Heaney. :)
+ respect

Tied hands cannot produce creative works

The bland light of a lazy afternoon
Acted as a spotlight to my epiphany
And I realized a secret that I would fear to tell
So I hid it in my sleeve
And lapsed into daydream
I allowed my imagination to take me
Where my dreams fear to tread
Delusion is welcome
To a head too oft ruled by a lonely heart
And I’ll just sit on the porch swing
While sunlight seeps into my brain
And turns my mean reds to golden joy
On the cusp of a breakthrough
An escape from the monotony
Of the familiar, the comfortable
They say the devil finds work for idle hands;
Well then if a poet is idle
The devil will tie her hands and take prisoner
Her imagination
So she is devoid of all creative thought

The Angst of a Poet

So,
The wind came and went,
A rushing whisper that stirred up my thoughts
Just as the wave washes small treasures up
All that was produced was a short burst of creativity;
Before the lid snapped shut on the word-hoard
And any further findings were unattainable
I tried to reach, but the ladder toppled over
and I landed in the sands of time, blank time,
that place devoid of inspiration, oh how I loathe it
it irks me so, to the point at which I seize fistfuls of my own hair
Upturn inkwells and send parchment flying
And then the storm subsides, and I am quiet as a still, glassy lake,
a frosted mere, the serenity of the mist hiding the slow, ever-burning
longing, a yearning that cannot be quenched, until every drop of ink, every semblence
of creative thought is extracted from the depths of my restless mind.
will it ever be enough?