Like You
I saw you driving by today, down the same road I was traveling in.
I like your hair, it's just as I had remembered it - the sunset highlighting all its colours, spanning from black to the lightest shades of brown; your fringe following the lead of your sculpted jaw-line.
I was two cars in front of you, in the same lane - did you see me?
I like the profile of your face in concentration - your head held high with a regal presence, softly arched brows, and a sincere seriousness in your eyes facing the peak hour battle.
I tried to travel next to you, but I was rudely told that the right lane is only for overtaking and speeding motorists.
I like your indifferent smile - delicately fragile and balanced, ready to touch extremities with the next provoking moment. It speaks no truths or lies, choosing to promote a mystery.
I paid close attention to my rear view mirror in vain hope that you would notice me in the traffic.
I like your arms and hands as they were gently stretched out, controlling the restless wheel with a casual elegance. Their movements were precise and graceful.
But within a minute you were out of my sight.
I think I still like you.
Hurting
A sharp pain is exercising its will on my heart with every contraction. My breath is coming through in fits, fighting for available air . My hands are shaking uncontrollably and fixed open - willing to receive any help on offer. My eyes are rapidly blinking, hoping to erase every moment of agony, much like an attempt to wake from the worst nightmare. My legs are weak, failing to hold my body, let alone thoughts weighing on my mind.
Our bodies weren't created to tolerate such hurt.
Perhaps the only solace is to lie down in defeat, in hope of pleasant dreams.
A sharp pain is exercising its will on my heart with every contraction. My breath is coming through in fits, fighting for available air . My hands are shaking uncontrollably and fixed open - willing to receive any help on offer. My eyes are rapidly blinking, hoping to erase every moment of agony, much like an attempt to wake from the worst nightmare. My legs are weak, failing to hold my body, let alone thoughts weighing on my mind.
Our bodies weren't created to tolerate such hurt.
Perhaps the only solace is to lie down in defeat, in hope of pleasant dreams.
Something Need Doing?
I hate to admit it, but getting paid to do no work is highly overrated.
God I feel so empty...
On second thoughts, it shouldn't be such a big shock.
Observe...
$ + No Work = Emptiness
Let:
-(No Work) = Work
-($) = No $
-(Emptiness) = Fulfillment
Therefore:
No $ + Work = Fulfillment
Wow. Logic proves that volunteer work is truly fulfilling.
And that I'm shit bored.
I hate to admit it, but getting paid to do no work is highly overrated.
God I feel so empty...
On second thoughts, it shouldn't be such a big shock.
Observe...
$ + No Work = Emptiness
Let:
-(No Work) = Work
-($) = No $
-(Emptiness) = Fulfillment
Therefore:
No $ + Work = Fulfillment
Wow. Logic proves that volunteer work is truly fulfilling.
And that I'm shit bored.
Immobile
It's been five days...
You begin to think of the worst case scenario, the best case scenario and every other in between. Your imagination begins to run loose, aware that self-control isn't present to divert any wrongdoing. You try to combat it by acting nonchalantly for an audience inside your head.
You're watching your mobile with eager anticipation. You carry it into the bathroom. You begin to notice the slightest movements of the signal bar. You're fixated to the flickering screen. You throw it quick glances whenever both hands are occupied. You stare at it with an outstretched arm and begin to call upon divine powers to be at your will.
You are resigned to facing the facts - you are at their mercy. They have the power to keep you in limbo for as long as they want. And until you hear from them, your life is on hold.
Please call...
It's been five days...
You begin to think of the worst case scenario, the best case scenario and every other in between. Your imagination begins to run loose, aware that self-control isn't present to divert any wrongdoing. You try to combat it by acting nonchalantly for an audience inside your head.
You're watching your mobile with eager anticipation. You carry it into the bathroom. You begin to notice the slightest movements of the signal bar. You're fixated to the flickering screen. You throw it quick glances whenever both hands are occupied. You stare at it with an outstretched arm and begin to call upon divine powers to be at your will.
You are resigned to facing the facts - you are at their mercy. They have the power to keep you in limbo for as long as they want. And until you hear from them, your life is on hold.
Please call...
Reunion - A Dialogue
Mario A: An inquisitive male who likes to end most of his sentences with a question mark.
Mario B: A pessimist who is defensive, stubborn and somewhat lost.
It is 12:12AM on a warm November night. The pair are in bed, unable to conjure dreams to guide them to sleep and so turn to each other for a not-so-significant exchange.
A:So, are you going to the reunion?
B:Probably not.
A:Why?
B:Well, I just don't have anything to say to these people. What the hell do I tell them - that I've done nothing in my life for the last five years?
A:Why do you care what they think?
B:I don't know. I don't care about their opinions of me, just how I view myself. I think I'd feel uncomfortable.
A:Why would you feel uncomfortable?
B:*Shrugs*
A:Why not just drop in?
B:There's no point.
A:Don't you want to catch up with some of these people?
B:If I did, I would've made an effort by now.
A:Just go. What have you got to lose?
B:Fifty-five dollars.
A:There must be a bigger issue than cash?
B:There probably is. Maybe I'm just not aware of it at the moment.
A:Bleh, fuck it then. What's our next topic?
B:I want to get a tattoo.
And so the pair continue on in similar fashion, knowing that with every spent moment, time allocated for sleep is being consumed.
Mario A: An inquisitive male who likes to end most of his sentences with a question mark.
Mario B: A pessimist who is defensive, stubborn and somewhat lost.
It is 12:12AM on a warm November night. The pair are in bed, unable to conjure dreams to guide them to sleep and so turn to each other for a not-so-significant exchange.
A:So, are you going to the reunion?
B:Probably not.
A:Why?
B:Well, I just don't have anything to say to these people. What the hell do I tell them - that I've done nothing in my life for the last five years?
A:Why do you care what they think?
B:I don't know. I don't care about their opinions of me, just how I view myself. I think I'd feel uncomfortable.
A:Why would you feel uncomfortable?
B:*Shrugs*
A:Why not just drop in?
B:There's no point.
A:Don't you want to catch up with some of these people?
B:If I did, I would've made an effort by now.
A:Just go. What have you got to lose?
B:Fifty-five dollars.
A:There must be a bigger issue than cash?
B:There probably is. Maybe I'm just not aware of it at the moment.
A:Bleh, fuck it then. What's our next topic?
B:I want to get a tattoo.
And so the pair continue on in similar fashion, knowing that with every spent moment, time allocated for sleep is being consumed.
A New Look
After a disastrous attempt to attach bells and whistles to this blog, I have taken a vow to never touch anything I have no knowledge about - in this case, HTML.
But on the flipside I managed to dig up a simple and clean template for the new look projectamor.
Thank you blogskins.
After a disastrous attempt to attach bells and whistles to this blog, I have taken a vow to never touch anything I have no knowledge about - in this case, HTML.
But on the flipside I managed to dig up a simple and clean template for the new look projectamor.
Thank you blogskins.
Idol Ideals
I am but an Australian Idol fool.
At first I thought it was the combination of reality TV and live music that had me home every Sunday and Monday night without fail, but with every show that passes I'm finding that the core of my obsession lies with the entire voting process.
I think Guy should win. D thinks Guy should win. The judges think Guy should win. And I'm sure that if my couch were an animate object with half a brain he would say that Guy should win.
We've all based our judgements on the belief that the winner of this competition will be the most musically gifted, unsigned singer in Australia. I just hope that every other viewer in this country votes accordingly. But, like always, I have my doubts.
Right now I'm placing an unhealthy amount of significance in this competition, turning it into a battle between ideals and reality.
I hope the ideal Idol wins.
I am but an Australian Idol fool.
At first I thought it was the combination of reality TV and live music that had me home every Sunday and Monday night without fail, but with every show that passes I'm finding that the core of my obsession lies with the entire voting process.
I think Guy should win. D thinks Guy should win. The judges think Guy should win. And I'm sure that if my couch were an animate object with half a brain he would say that Guy should win.
We've all based our judgements on the belief that the winner of this competition will be the most musically gifted, unsigned singer in Australia. I just hope that every other viewer in this country votes accordingly. But, like always, I have my doubts.
Right now I'm placing an unhealthy amount of significance in this competition, turning it into a battle between ideals and reality.
I hope the ideal Idol wins.
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