The Laelia Pages

Change? I’m Useless.

Up until a couple of seconds ago (actually, I’ve known this for a fairly long time now. I’m just saying it out loud and randomly to no one in particular) I thought I was open to change. That I embraced and welcomed it.

But I don’t.

Welcoming and ushering in change involves a few things from what I can see - it involves agreeing that the present state of whatever isn’t what is needed, or working, or necessary. And then there’s the repetition of actions that are needed to bring that change into effect, so much so that they become automated movements in your life.

And with such things, I am useless.

I’ve spent too long living an accidental existence and that’s how I’ve carried on.

Sad.

What to do?

What I Appreciate About My Family

Sometimes they drive me mad. After making this list I remember that hey, I’m lucky. And blessed.

Plinky.com prompt for today: “Name something you appreciate about each of your immediate family members.”

My immediate family are no longer immediately near me. They’ve all packed up and left you see. To other lands to be fairly happy. However, I will always appreciate:

My father: is pretty non judegemental. He’s probably one of the most non judgemental people in the world. I can only assume it comes from his own deep awareness that he has his own wrong doings to contend with and mistakes that he’s made peace with in his life. Makes him quite humble. And accepting.

My oldest brother: is similar to my father in that respect. And is one of the most genuinely nicest people in the world. Genuinely nice. When you meet him he looks like someone who could completely smash your face in. Scary looking type (people have called the police on him for no good reason. He was waiting in a parking lot for a friend who he had just driven to the doctor). But then people find out that he’s actually a big push over. Seriously nice.

My youngest brother: one of the funniest people in my world. Like my older brother, he looks intimidating. Tall and thug like. Inked up and wearing his stuff low. Then the jokes start and it makes people feel ok. At ease. And people decide he’s a nice bloke to have a drink with!

My niece: has the biggest heart. She will give you everything that she has and is.

As I note all these things I realize I’m lucky. And I feel blessed. And glad.

Is it me or … ?

I’d had a niggling feeling in the back of my mind for quite a while about something in particular.

Previously you’ve read that I love magazines right? So you can take that as an indication that I do spend a whole lot of time in magazine aisles in supermarkets and any bookstore that has them.

I love all those specialist mags that are about the weird and obscure and for those really great people who are ‘can do’ in that specialist area. The artsy, the architectural, better home living, fishing, and all that kind of stuff. They have great mag covers. National geo and Time always have great stuff.

Then you get the people mags. You know. All the gossip mags. The women’s mags. And the happy guy mags. And this is what I’ve noticed. All the women on the front of the women’s magazines. They all look the same. Same eye make up. Curves and all. Or at least they all have the same make up artist with the same flawless stuff going on. Teen mags have toned down versions of what’s on the cover of everything else. Guys mags (not all mind you) have the guy version of girls on the front. Same girl. Same make up artist. Less clothes. Same curves. Or more. Depending on who’s mag you’re looking at I guess.

Some mags have guys on the front. They always get to wear all of their clothes. Nothing tight or impossible to breath in. Nothing that accentuates their family jewels or goods. Or lack of. And maybe that guy will have a generic girl hanging off him for good measure. His token accessory in the picture to play up his … good standing? How desirable he really is? And that girl also has the same make up artist. Same curves. That’s who she is. An accessory slash no one in particular without a name.

I love magazines but every time I see ones like this I look closely and wonder. What is the picture telling me? I’m not sure I want to look the same as every. One. Else. I thought that was what made me me. The fact that I am different. So why do all these people have to appear the same?

Don’t Know If You’ve Ever Noticed …

I love magazines.

Am in love with them.

Ever since I discovered that I could obtain magazines with otherworldly photography and pictures that put me in the middle of other worlds (aka National Geographic) and fell in love with the price and content in Time, I was hooked.

Today. While at the supermarket. I opened up the current version of Rip It Up.

And it smelled

GORGEOUS.

That smell of fresh print on enormous paper took me right back to editions I used to buy in my early twenties when Anika Moa and P-Money were making waves and kicking up dust. Scott Kara’s writing still stands out in my mind. And that smell. Holy Mary Mother of God. I wanted to sit on the floor of that supermarket aisle and lick the pages. I knew that there was so much that I wanted to read in there. And I remembered that indeed, I love magazines.

And I hadn’t really taken it in until now. How brand new pages smell. When newspaper ink smudges on your fingers when it’s a really early morning purchase. And smells just like fresh print and just made paper that no one has ever touched. Have you ever noticed that?

I think when I die I might give up the smells and visions of freshly cut roses in exchange for fresh issues of all my favourite magazines lying everywhere my coffin may happen to lie. Editions of Empire. No. Frankie. Total Film. Vanity Fair. Metro. Even GQ. Price just doesn’t even matter anymore. It’s a purchase right up there with my hankering for shoes, bags, interesting plastic trinkets from cheap jewellery stores and coffee. Yuuuuuuuum. Just in love.

Remembering Dreams

They feel like cinematic experiences. Even though I know they’re not real. That I’m asleep. Bright. Slow motion. Sometimes all that’s missing is ominous music.

Dreaming

Last night I dreamt about one of friends being so plastered out of their mind that they had no idea why they were at my house, wearing glitter on their face, standing around with stars in their eyes. There were tweens who had crashed the house and taken over the pool. And I was house sitting. A house belonging to my friend. Transformed into a multi level, split level monster with many bathrooms and wooden finishes everywhere. It looked nothing like the real life house.

I woke up and thought it was Saturday. It was Friday.

That was last nights dream.

I remember dreams I had when I was 14. That involved spotlights, supermarkets, drum solos and drive by shootings in the middle of suburbia. Even the scary ones. Where I dream of being chased or imagine some unknown foe is trying to climb through a window.

Usually I remember these. These sleep induced cinematic experiences. My dreams.

The Deliberate Attempt to Deceive

So what exactly is the truth? Who gets to deliver the truth? What is there to gain from a lie?

Deciding Which Door to Choose 2

Plinky.com prompt for today: “Is it ever okay to lie?”

Is it every okay to deliberately deceive someone?

Well.


I’ve lied to pretty much everyone. At one time or another. Including myself.

I’ve done it to make myself feel better about things I couldn’t do. Wanted to do but didn’t have the heart. Because of love. And hate. And a whole lot of other reasons. For right and for wrong. To dull the pain of loss. To exonerate myself in my own eyes. Or the eyes of others. To exonerate others for me.

At every stage of my life I’ve lied at one point or another.

Sometimes it was okay. Sometimes it wasn’t.

Situational. Necessary. Unnecessary. To make things better. And make them worse.

What truth do we want to tell? Do we need to tell? Does it always set us free?

Christmas Happiness

As the final days leading into Christmas peel away I’m reminded of a few things.

Christmas isn’t really about buying gifts for everyone I love. It’s about buying gifts for the smaller kiddies and spending some real, quality time with the ones I love. Time that we’ll remember together. Making fond memories. Toasting to the luck of a good life.

At Christmas, I start remembering the year that was. I’m thankful for all the lessons I’ve learnt. I’m thankful that I have the life that I have. That I was born in such a happy country. I have a job. I can still have pipe dreams within my reach if I truly want to reach out and pursue them. I’m surrounded by good people. Those good people who I love are safe and sound. During the New Year I think about the year that’s to come. Christmas. I’m thankful for everything that was.

Merry Christmas ladies and gentlemen. Hope you’re celebrating your good fortune too. Life really is that good.