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Chasing Rainbows

July 25, 2013

When did it happen?  The transition?  The transformation into something…apparently adult. 


Childhood.  Summers spent carefree enjoying the rush of air as you whiz down the street on your bike; you think it’s the fastest thing in the world.  Grinning faces, melting ice-lollies, and grass-stains on your clothes, without a care in the world.  Scraped knees and elbows, your temporary pain, those scars, they fade away so easily.  Shrieks of joy and contagious laughter accompanied by the orchestra of birds’ fills the town carried around softly by the wind.  You spot a rainbow and you run so fast, trying to find where it ends.  The curiosity, and the energy, it’s practically endless.  Your friends are diverse, both culturally and socially; there are no barriers, no boundaries, and no stereotypes.  It’s carpe diem everyday, you seize the moment, seize the day because you know impossible is nothing; one day you’re an astronaut with a saucepan-helmet on your head, and the next day you’re a brain surgeon with a plastic stethoscope. 

That childhood laughter, it’s all too contagious, it seeps into your soul untainted, untied.


So when did it happen?  That transition?  That transition into something…apparently adult with its social ‘norms’ and rigid rules.  You stopped running to find the end of the rainbow, and the spark of curiosity faded away into a dull lifeless ember.  When did you start categorising humans mindlessly like categorising m&ms, picking and choosing the ones you liked, when did you stop giving them all a fair chance?    You tell yourself carpe diem everyday, yet you don’t seize the moment because you’ve started believing in the existence of impossible.  When did you lose yourself, to become who you are?  An adult, an independent, strong, adult, governed by social rules and peer-pressure, insecurities, and boundaries, when? 



Don’t be afraid to chase rainbows. 

Independent Woman

April 6, 2012

She’s a modern-day independent woman in a high-powered job, in a position of power.  Long gone are the days where women suffered unequal rights and oppression.

ImageHer face is cleansed, toned then moisturised and painted with makeup in an attempt to achieve that flawless airbrushed look.  Her eyebrows have been painfully plucked two days ago to achieve that arch-with-an-attitude look.  Hair styled and teased, then sprayed with a generous amount of toxic-chemicals hairspray.

She walks with an air of confidence.  Self-assured, she holds her head high and is unafraid to voice her opinion.  Today she is dressed in an outfit designed by Georgio Armani; a tight pencil-skirt clings to her lower body, stopping above the knee in that ‘sexy-but-professional’ look she’s trying to achieve.  Her blouse is low enough to teasingly reveal a small amount of cleavage, ‘without being slutty’ she thinks.

As she walks through the office and cheerfully greets colleagues she is aware of the lingering appreciative glances of men – she thrives on those.  To know that she is attractive, and wanted boosts her confidence further and she inwardly smiles to herself, her stride becoming a little more confident by the minute.  The men steal discrete glances at her, mentally undressing her.  Her high-flying status fades away in their eyes and she becomes merely eye-candy.

She sits down on her chair and subconsciously clutches the hem of the skirt to pull it downwards, in an attempt to provide more coverage.  Self –consciously, she ensures her legs are placed together in a stiff posture, any wrong movement or crossing of legs may lead to indecent exposure.  She walks across the office to get some coffee, sucking in her stomach until she is safely back at her desk again.  She spends the rest of the day fully aware of her movements.  Through the course of the day quick glances in the mirror are needed to assure her that she still looks appealing, she touches up her make-up in the bathroom a few times and positively notes of yet more appreciate male-glances.

This is our modern-day successful woman.  She struts through life wearing clothes mainly designed by men…in order to please men, and then she gets that confidence boost she needs by knowing that she looks appealing.  She is intelligent and has a sparkling personality, yet she sees less of that and more of what the mirror shows her, and more of how people perceive her.  So fussed and bothered about how people perceive her, she is a slave to the rules of modern-day westernised society.

They say our modern-day women have freedom.


I say our modern-day women should be more than just eye-candy.


November 15, 2011

It’s running away far too fast, ticking away like a time-bomb.  The earth spinning on its axis faster and faster covertly breaking all speed limits, it’s out of control now, unstoppable.  Do you notice the time going faster?  Running away, running away to the end of time; its final destination.  You see, the world is becoming a blur, colours blending into each other in an enormous palette.  New colours emerge, nameless, confusing.  We tend to pay them no mind because they’re alien…the product of too much evil in a world that wants to run away from what it’s become, and so the blur continues.

Sensory overload, auditory senses are confused now.  The sounds blur into each other until they finally become one sound which produces an overpowering hum.  So overpowering that when paid attention to, it’s unbearable.  Forgotten is the meaning of life, the same meaning that you think you don’t know.  Oh but you knew the meaning very clearly, and as early as childhood.  Forgotten, forgotten are the faces of family and the strong bonds that hold you together.  Broken are those bonds that once existed, disintegration of a powerful solid into a weak liquid and then finally into a gas; electrons, neutrons and protons all over the place.  Confused, and directionless.

You climb the highest mountain only to dive from it after the one thing that makes you weaker, because you think it will buy you power.  Money; because they say money is power…but who are they to know really?  Blindfolded and brainwashed by the media, propaganda and social influences you’ve become zombies.  Spoon-fed dummies, minds in semi-vegetative states.  You say you do no wrong, for you are civilised people.  You don’t kill and you don’t torture.  Yet you stand aside silently and watch innocent people being slaughtered, you say nothing…even if you inwardly disagree…yet you say you do no wrong.

The darkness seeps into our planet, whirling and whirling around the earth as it spins faster on its axis.  Days turn into nights and nights turn into days, cries for help are ignored and the destruction continued.  Ignorance prevails and the darkness seeps into your minds, into your blood vessels…bumping the blackness into your souls.  What a deadly epidemic.

Toxic Earth

May 29, 2011

There’s a storm coming I can smell it in the air; the world isn’t what it was yesterday.  Even the birds know about it, they fly cautiously watching and waiting, they glare at people suspiciously.  The ozone is breaking away the toxicity is leaking inwards filling up the earth’s soul.  The trees are slowly suffocating, the animals are becoming victims of murder, and food chains are becoming distorted beyond repair. 

Humans have evolved into power-hungry leeches, there’s a dictatorship in action.  Propaganda is spoon-fed into unsuspecting individuals, unleashing its deadly parasite into their minds.  Parasitic takeover leaves them with ignorant expressions on their faces, they begin to act like the cliqued flock of sheep all baaing and heading blindly in one direction.

‘Robotic’ is the definition of their neural activity, lack of logic defines their thinking.  Lack of understanding about worldly affairs, lack of intuition and lack of desire to seek knowledge.  The massacre of human lives continues in great abundance, the ones who aren’t under attack don’t utter a word.  They disappear into their well-lit safe and comfortable homes and switch on the propoganda box otherwise known as the television for yet another session of brainwashing. 

Countries that appear to be helping those in need do the exact opposite, charities spend donations on multiple mercedes-benz for the chairmen.  Animals in zoos and parks are locked on the assumption that if they weren’t locked up they would cause choas with their animalistic, uncivilised behaviour; but the dire reality is that those animals are more civiliased than the human race. 

The dying Earth continues to rotate on its axis, continuing its journey grudigly around the sun, slowly losing the will to carry on.  Toxic clouds of sin ooze into the atmosphere and out of the holes in the ozone, leaking into outer space breaking the laws of physics and creating a dark, unsightly shadow around the Earth.

And to top it all off, there’s an eighty-nine year old preacher somewhere in the USA enthusiatically giving us false-predictions of apocalypse.

Her struggle

April 20, 2011

My window is like a portal to another dimension, it provides me with in-depth analysis of observations conducted on the world directly outside my house.  Looking out of my window I see a small field placed randomly in the middle of a square of fifty houses.  Around this field runs the square outline of a road; the road cuts through the middle of the field and provides an exit from the secluded bubble of an area that I live in.

I see her outside struggling every day.  I don’t look out of the window at specific times of the day, it’s a completely random occurrence, yet I manage to see her outside regardless of the time.  She is in her eighties perhaps; she wears the same thick jumper over her clothes everyday despite the recent warm temperatures. She walks on the edge of the field near the road that runs through the middle.  She walks up and down the field, every step she takes requires the majority of her strength – I can tell from her posture and the way she takes her steps.  She looks more like a wounded soldier desperately trying to reach home before the wounds worsen than an elderly lady taking a walk in the sunshine; the process appears to be agonizing for her.  After every few steps she grabs hold of the wooden fencing around the field; sometimes she starts to double over and on these occasions she sits on the fence clutching it tightly; she remains there for a few minutes and then continues her painful walk.   Bewildered, I wonder why she continues to do this every day when it clearly causes her pain.

So today I decided to step outside and talk to her.  I learnt that she lives with her son and daughter-in-law around the corner; they don’t seem to pay her much attention.  She tells me she has chronic pain and she feels like her legs are about to give up.  I learn that she walks daily because she doesn’t want to lose the mobility she has – even though walking is extremely painful for her.

Why did I just write about her?  Well, I’ve been lucky enough to come into contact with a few people in my life that have changed the way I look at life, some have been a wake-up call.  She’s a perfect example of pure determination and strength; despite everything she carries on fighting.  Watching her just reinforced the realisation that giving up is never the answer regardless of the difficulty of the situation; we need more people with determination like hers.

I think I miss you…maybe

April 11, 2011

Ninety-two year old Mrs Smith arrived in the ward with a suspected stomach ulcer and anaemia due to a suspected gastroenterological problem.  The bottom line was that nobody really knew what was wrong with her and so they chucked her in bed number six in the women’s bay of the ward to wait and perhaps acquire a few hospital infections along the way while they filled out stacks of paperwork needed for multiple diagnostic tests. 

The five other elderly ladies in the bay were wasting away lying in their beds acquiring infections, and staring into space, but not Mrs Smith; she was something else.  My first encounter with her occurred when I caught her stealing large amounts of coffee and adding 5 sugars to each cup (she was diabetic).  I reminded her that she was diabetic and maybe sweeteners would be better; and so she threatened to knock me out; which made my day because my boring shift had suddenly acquired some interesting drama.  So after I had convinced her not to overdose on sugar and escorted her back to her bed; I thought she’d relax and maybe (hopefully) fall asleep for a while so I could get through completing patient feedback surveys in the ward.

Five minutes later as I was in the men’s bay attempting to conduct a patient-feedback survey with an elderly Parkinson’s patient who was not only deaf, but also had articulation problems; I caught a glimpse of Mrs Smith’s bright pink dressing gown and looked up.  There she was, attempting to drag an elderly man out of his bed.  I managed to get her to stop dragging the poor man out of bed and asked her what she was doing; “finding myself a boyfriend of course!” she shouted back at me with a furious expression on her face.

I didn’t get to complete patient notes or patient surveys that day because of the following reasons:

  1.  I caught her pouring her jug of water over sleeping patients.  When asked why she was doing that she replied “I’m watering the plants dear”
  2. She tried to escape from the ward 8 times (yes I counted)
  3. She went into the men’s bay and stole two patient’s blankets; she then accused me of stealing her blanket and told the consultant that I’d stolen it and hidden it way in my car.  She had a hysterical fit over this which resulted in staff frantically bringing her more hospital blankets and telling her they’d found her blanket (they all looked identical).  Of course she insisted that none of them belonged to her as hers was much, much warmer.
  4. She locked herself in the bathroom and had another hysterical fit.
  5. She took a walk around the ward during lunchtime, seated herself opposite an elderly man who was an Alzheimer’s patient and started eating his food; this resulted in him becoming even more confused and insisting he be let out of prison as he was only fighting this war for his country.  Consequently; this led to him having an hysterical fit and grabbing his Zimmer-frame and shuffling away as fast as he could in an attempt to escape from prison (the ward), and fell over.
  6. She stole and hid my patient surveys.

So for a few weeks; Mrs Smith made my tasks impossible to complete with her constant trouble making but the day she left I actually felt sad and reflected on the one positive event I had shared with her.  I had grudgingly painted her nails bright pink one time (because she threatened to knock me out if I didn’t) and she was over the moon, I have never seen an elderly toothless person smile as widely as she did in my entire life

Yes I missed her :mrgreen:

My addiction

April 1, 2011

Call me stubborn, hard-headed, selfish, and reckless.  It won’t matter a thing what you call me because I won’t hear, my senses are numbed to everything other than my addiction.

My addiction.  My aim.  I followed you through the years, you were always one step ahead of me and I was always running after you reaching out trying to grab hold of you and so many times I was so close, so damn close.  Heart pounding signalling its objection to such vindictive treatment, oxygen-deprived lungs gasping desperately for air.  Senses numbed, visual fields constricted to you, and only you.  Loss of sensation, loss of interest, loss of everything in life other than you.  My addiction.   

Those who had experienced you told me you weren’t worth it.  “Don’t do it”.  “It’ll take over your life”.  “Please reconsider; you have your whole life ahead of you”.  Of course I ignored their opinions; null and void and no thank you.  At times you drained the life out of me, at times you hurt me so badly I thought I would bleed to death then and there.  The euphoria at the thought of obtaining you kept me going.  You were my high despite feeling like my nemesis.  I fell, I got up, I chased after you.  I reached out, and you pushed me down.  I fell, I got up.  It was a wretched circle.  Hard-headed, I didn’t give up. 

Summers flew by and I didn’t even notice.  Winters came and went.  I didn’t notice the cold and I didn’t notice the heat.  What I noticed was you; I noticed the pain and I noticed the euphoria.

I chased after you and I reached out and finally grabbed you.  You ran, I ran with you, the experience was something amazing.  My heart slowed down and started beating comfortably; my lungs were no longer deprived of oxygen.  I saw and felt the sunshine, I felt alive, and I felt the definition of happiness.  Now you’re running a little too fast and I don’t know whether you’re going to speed up…because if you do; I’ll be back to square one again.  If you don’t…I’ll live happily ever after.

I sit and stare at the stars and question the sky; what’s it going to be?  Nemesis or happiness?  I feel the life start to drain out of me again at the thought of losing you.  My high.

Are you even worth it? 


March 12, 2011

So I decided to set ten minutes on the timer and type whatever came to my head, a sort of freestyle; and heres what I ended up with:

Take me away.  Anywhere but here, that’s where I want to be.  Walking the streets aimlessly at stupid-o-clock at night; everything looks so different in the dark.  The cars with their bright headlights look phantom-like and I stare at them and wonder where they’re heading.  People passing me by look secretive, some in a rush, some walking like their being replayed in slow-motion mode.  The rain comes down not in drops but in a hazy spray of minute particles.  Things lack clarity.

Now I’m turning a corner into Unknown Street.  Attempting to avoid stepping on the cracks in the dark is an impossible task; I’ve stepped on 4 already.  If I’ve stepped on an even number by the time I reach the end of the road, I will turn left, if I end up with an odd number I will turn right.  Am I getting further?  Red phantom car why are you slowing down?  Please keep driving I do not wish to communicate at this point in time.

Take me away.  I end up at the same spot as always; in between the pages and amongst line after line of words.  They draw me in and take me away; give me a new realty, and suck me into another dimension.  I am invisible, I watch characters and their lives, I hear conversations, and I witness murders.  My physical shell remains in the world but my inner self passes the barrier into this new dimension of words, and there I stay until the words run out.

Mocha and random thoughts

March 8, 2011

That time between 6-7pm on a Sunday evening where everything looks deserted, the shopping centres close and the streets look lifeless.  Where do all the people go?  Around the same time, coffee houses, pubs and restaurants are greeted with an influx of people with their friends and families, laughing and gossiping and treasuring the carefree moments spent together before the tedious week begins again.

So there I was, 6.30pm on Sunday evening sitting in a coffee shop with a friend; the most amazing mocha in front of me along with a slice of cake, bliss.  The atmosphere was laid back; music playing in the background, the sound of people talking in groups and laughing, the sound of coffee cups and spoons, the sound of happiness.  There was a middle-aged couple talking and smiling over some coffee; probably married I assumed.  A group of four not-boys but not-yet-men were sitting around one of the tables looking around to catch sight of something pretty.  Laugher erupted from a group of women in their twenties from a nearby table.

Halfway through my amazing mocha (trust me it was the most amazing mocha in the world!) I noticed an elderly lady on her own heading my way.  Her coat was torn and on her arm, hung a rapidly ageing handbag.  Her legs were swollen, and her feet were stuffed into shoes that looked like they had walked to Australia and back.  Her faced was wrinkled heavily, and her eyes were dull like the life had been drained out of them from all the sorrows in life.

She sat down on the table next to me in a position opposite me on her own, a lone cup of coffee in front of her.  She drank in silence, her eyes fixed to a spot on the table and her expression unchanging, unsmiling.  Around her, the coffee house buzzed with smiles, talk and laughter.  And there she was in the middle of the coffee house, alone, unnoticed, and unacknowledged.

I can’t explain why she stood out to me, but she did.  She brought with her something that was directly opposite to the atmosphere in the coffee house at the time, I wondered where she came from, where she would go and what her story was.

5 Stages of death AKA pre-examination-stress-disorder

March 2, 2011

So last year during my finals I was sitting there in front of a big stack of books thinking about the five stages of death/grief.  No it wasn’t on my syllabus and it wouldn’t be on any of the exams I don’t know why I was thinking about it.  Anyway, using my time oh-so-productively, I managed to turn the 5 stages of death framework into the 5 stages of pre-examination-stress-disorder (yes I just made up my own disorder).  Students, you may (or may not) relate to this:

Stage 1. Denial – The exams are a whole 2 weeks away!  That’s a lot of time to learn everything I was meant to have learnt this year.  I’m very prepared.  Yes of course I’m prepared, and plus 2 weeks is more than sufficient time to prepare even if I wasn’t prepared.  See all of those other crazy students studying day and night in the library?  They’re all stupid; we have a whole 2 weeks!!!

Stage 2. Anger – Why is this happening to me?!  Stupid exams!  Couldn’t they give us more notice?  They could have given us the examination timetable a year in advance, which would have helped.  I blame the university.  Idiots!  Why couldn’t I have taken my lazy ass down to the library and studied night and day?!  GRRRRRR! 😡

Stage 3. Bargaining – Dear God, if you help me to pass these exams I will give my entire life savings to starving people.  I’ll make  them build prayer rooms throughout the campus!  Just help me pass these exams please please please!

Stage 4. Depression – I’m doomed.  Nothing I will do now will save me; there is no hope at all.  I’m utterly screwed; failure is just around the corner.  I’ll fail and get kicked out and then I’ll spend life picking up litter from the street for a living.  Why don’t I have a brain?  I’m the dumbest person in the world and life is a disaster. 

Stage 5. Acceptance – Oh hello exam.  Well I’ve read the book, and the journals and I’ve tried reading the lecture notes but I couldn’t read my own handwriting.  So here I am, still alive.  There’s no way I can avoid you I’ll just have to do you and see if we can make this relationship work.  Hopefully afterwards you’ll award me enough marks to pass with the highest grade.  Ok ok fine, second highest grade?  Ready, set, go!

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