Eyes wide shut

Silence sits still on the window sill
I'm waiting, contemplating
Noise creeps through and seduces the air
I'm listening, absorbing
Blink black, blink light
Hide and seek I play with the night.

Deep breaths and gentle snores orchestrate a soothing ballad
Air conditioning hisses to add some bass
I'm staring, wondering

Blinking digitals and charging gadgets
Perform flashing pirouettes, adding colour to the darkness
Red shimmers bounce off my night stand, 0.44 reads the Casio display
My lids feel heavy and parched are my lips
I want to feel better, I really do
A sip of water, some turning around
Back to ground zero

Facing up or on my side
Stomach down
Arms hanging out
Layers off, come on again
Come on now
It's just not fair!

Silence sits still on the window sill
Noise creeps in and numbs the air
Drousy strokes brush my face
Blink black, blink black
I no longer hide or seek
I'm sleeping, finally sleeping!

Uninvited guests

We are all walking on the same paths in the present, often seeking to hold on to the trails of the past which have treaded the same route. We struggle to accept the changes that the present brings, as the essence of the past still infuses through. When someone leaves us, their soul lingers on and projects their once existence through the presence of other people, physical places and material objects which carry the fading fragrances of that person.

How long does this last? Is a soul with us forever or do we replace their existence with time? Death is often embraced with resistance as we fear the pain it brings us in its immediate consequence. However, the longer times passes, we learn to accept and learn to live on. This learning is what's hard. Do we perhaps need a school where one is taught how to handle death? Sounds ridiculous doesn't it? 

Let's flip the coin and talk about love then. Another uninvited guest that steps into our life and we are not often ready for it. How is it then that we welcome love with open arms and inhale the emotions it brings with it? It's pleasurable, tickles you and you like it. Is it always good for you though, does the love you feel, feel back? If you are not loved back, you actually feel dead, just not buried. If the love you feel is single handed, well you are alone. This solitude can be compared to the feeling of death as one dies alone! If true lovers are united, they give birth to a new body and death removes the existing body. So ultimately love and death produce similar emotions, yet the world rejoices love and mourns death. Love and death are both eternal but death is definite with no expectations. Love inspires expectations, which if not met leads to a dark beauty you only day dream about.  

The common factor between both guests is the soul. You miss the physical being after death but the soul still remains and this soul is what you actually love. Being in love requires more than one soul and if one of those souls is alive but absent, well the agony this produces can be paralleled to the end of life.

Forgive me my romantic lovers, I intend no distress. I have loved and not been loved back! I have loved and been loved back! I have mourned death and hurt more when not loved back. All the guests have dwelled in me and I have simply improvised as best as I can...

Mr. Mysterious

The finals are approaching closely and the library has become my new ghetto. Sipping filtered coffee on my breaks is the highlight of my afternoons, in between study sessions which I carry out with my study buddy and soul sister Mary. Mary motivates me to get the grades. Neither of us are really that academically brilliant, but ambitious and hardworking you cannot deny us.

Amidst the highlighters, notepads and carefully classified revision notes my eyes are distracted by a new presence loitering in the aisles. He is not making noise, but gestures so loud that one cannot help but notice the show he has on display. One earphone in and the other dangling on his neatly tucked in shirt. He irons his clothes, this I cannot help but observe, which motivates me to build the first positive judgment about Mr Mysterious... He's on his phone, which would classify as the coolest most illegal action to perform in a university library. So he's a bad boy, or maybe such assumptions are a little unfair.

"Stop wasting your time chica, I’m testing you in half an hour!" says Mary in a whisper. She's right, I need to focus on what's important. A mild thought lingers far behind though, who is he and how is it that I had not seen him before? Our test sessions can best be described as a live talk show, where Mary adopts the role of Oprah, Ricky and pretty much anyone you want her to be, not to mention our accent changes which add that spice to the conversation. We find this study system adds volume and appeal to the lame and mind numbingly boring management terms, which later play positively on our memory during an exam, often resulting in a chuckle or two for both Mary and myself.

So engrossed have we become in our reality show that neither one has noticed a new member has joined us on the large mahogany table. His books are haphazardly placed, along with a bottle of water and a mini disc player. He's quietly conversing with one of the architects in my year, which gives me a clue that if he is an architect, then Alison must know him. I cannot help but discreetly stare at him. How the hell does one stare discreetly? Get a grip and stop making it obvious I tell myself.

I need caffeine, come on let's go downstairs! Making our way through the long passageway, my eyes are glued to the aisles, hoping to get a glimpse of him. No luck! We join the queue to get our confectionary and beverages, discussing our next topic of revision for the following hour. "What's your plan for the weekend then?" A little shopping and perhaps the later cinema session on Saturday night. I do want to get some revision done, before I can take a break. I'm just about finishing my sentence, but my ears are drawn to a voice. "Fruit pastilles and bottle of water please." A deep American voice is what gives vocal identity to Mr Mysterious. I am tickling inside and he has not even spoken directly to me. Suddenly filtered coffee goes from being a highlight to a stale slice of bread, and hearing an American English accent seems to cross all erotic boundaries.

I cannot explain how he looks. This is irrelevant as his actions, voice and general presence set a bigger impression on me. Everything else suddenly seems cloudy and the rest of the canteen is just radio silence, as I absorb this figure and his aura.  

"Are we going back up, or do you need to check your email?" Mary and I have code too. Checking your email means hanging around this level a little longer, for any important appointments one may have in the library. I find myself being sucked into a crush that I can really only admire from a distance, and for all I knew Mr. Mysterious probably had a gorgeous, tall, slim and model like girlfriend.

I log in only to find a few boring forwards, which I actually take my sweet time reading only to hope that Mr. Mysterious will make an entry and decide to check his email at the computer which is free right next to mine. This is of course another one of my Sydney Sheldon fantasies which never seem to come true. I am about to log out and I see an email from Alison. She must be wanting to check on the weekend plan I'm sure. She always calls or texts though.

I open it and cannot believe what I am reading. "He's called me from the library twice, to ask if you are seeing someone and whether or not he can ask you out. What the hell are you wearing and why have you not paid any attention to him, he is sitting at your table for crying out loud! Call me."

I log out of my email discreetly and head back up to my table with the biggest and most discreet grin on my face. Just another study session.

39 weeks and 5 days

Fed up is frankly what I was at this point! The past few weeks had felt like climbing a really steep mountain, carrying a suitcase of around 10 kilos. I no longer even felt remotely beautiful looking at myself in the mirror. Was my face changing? I understood how my body had changed, well that was an understatement actually... it had over gone a metamorphosis in the last 5 months or so. Bloody hormones! Who invented you and who gave you the right to play on my mood, my body and now even my face? Blotchy, bloated, breasts my back could no longer carry and just generally a horrible bitch is what I had turned into.

Just another evening, getting ready for bed. Now you could say that getting ready for bed was more like getting ready for my daily battle of wanting to sleep without having an oversized water melon obstructing my sleep positions. Why did my mother not teach me how to sleep facing up? Now really it was all her fault, as blaming someone always makes me feel better. Not to mention the frequent trips to the loo. My bladder had been misbehaving for about 4 months, how can I blame the poor thing, with all the pressure it received... well the only outlet of her stress was whining to me about it. The most fierce soldier in my nocturnal battle was but of course the kick boxing queen. A daytime dormant, who partied at night.

"Good night sweetheart" he said giving me a kiss on the lips. Except we both knew it would be another bad night for me! Ice cream, chocolate, biscuits are what came to my mind. How can one possibly feel hungry ALL the time for Christ sake? I was not like this the first time. Well, I had crossed the point of caring anymore. One more kilo up or down, who cares? I manoeuvred myself out of bed and waddled down to the kitchen. Opening the freezer was one of those treats I gave myself these days, the cold air made me feel better and forget the inhumane heat I was having to deal with in this lovely month of July.

White Magnum cried out to me, take me please take me now. The emotional blackmail was far too potent to refuse and my maternal instinct could not bear to see it sitting there alone. 2 Magnums later I felt it was a good time to head back to bed. Chocolate really does release some mad endorphins in women, and in my case I am pretty sure mixed with the levels of hCG Human Chorionic Gonadrotopin (otherwise known as the pregnancy hormone) created a lethal mix of happiness, followed by an absolute melancholic state of mind.

05.13 am. My stomach starts to harden up. Hello to lady of the night! You have decided to make a late entry today. Except the hardening followed by a cramp in my lower pelvis, which then led to a sharp pain that I can only best describe as 100 women’s stilettos stepping all over my abdomen. Sounds fun doesn't it? Something told me this was finally the end of a saga and the start of new beginnings. I’m so glad I had been to the beauty salon that afternoon! Fat but glamorous was the key!

Pizza

Inspired by some serious pizza lovers... this is for you. 

A slice to start with
Becomes a vice as you bite into it
A pleasure so simple
Yet plunges deep on your pallet

A hearty brew of olive oil tomato sauce paints the canvas
Slithers of bubbling cheese make textured waves on the crusty base
Neatly placed slices of pepperoni sweat their oil
Sprinkles of oregano infuse into the potpourri of ingredients, alluring you into your first bite

It's piping hot but you want to teeth into it
As you near it towards your mouth
An aroma wraps you silly, sending a delirious thrill through your veins
Ravenous, famished is how you suddenly feel
Eat your heart out
Do it quick

A crunchy crisp sensation envelops your taste buds
coupled with some smooth mozarella and spicy chorizo mélange
Uff, can I be hitting a series of emotions in ascending order of forcefulness?

Each bite translates to more pleasure
A little chilled white washes down the lingering flavours
Inviting more to come
Soak into another bite

Deep pan or paper thin
Diavola or Margarita
A meat feast with extra this and extra that
Bell peppers with garden greens
Shredded zucchini and caramel onions
Choose your topping, anything works

Garlic, paprika, fresh basil too
A dash of Tabasco, hot and fiery works for me too

I heart my pizza
I love my pizza
A pleasure so simple
Plunges so deep

Short and sweet

It is often the silence of a person that gives us our most important answers in life. Those that speak little or express less are those that feel the most. This is because they control, they resist, they digest and above all they listen. If one does not speak, it does not mean that they are deaf.

"Yes, no, sure, wow, ok, really, how come, definitely".... such classic clicheéd replies from a Man of few words. Have you ever stopped to think how powerful these replies are? They are short but affirmative! We need to realise that less is more and more of the same just causes confusion. 

When you are alone and not talking to anyone, you partake in what one calls a thinking process. This moment of thinking is often the time when you find a solution to many questions that have been on your mind. So effectively you do not speak and allow your full focuss on the mind. The brain is overcharged with processing information and if to add to that you start to speak too, how is one supposed to concentrate on thinking and speaking at the same time and ultimately produce sound solutions?

I conclude from all this that it is important to spend time alone and simply think, it is also important to not talk once in a while and let the mind talk instead and above all it is crucial to sometimes regard a short answer as more important than a long winded one which may often confuse you and in turn lead you to misinterpret the other person.

Words that gripped me

This belongs not to me, however I felt captivated by this brief, yet powerful paragraph.

Hidden inside the veil unbroken
Lies my soul still unspoken
Countless words still unsaid
Many thoughts still not expressed
While walking on the road of life
......I wait for my soul to be discovered
Author- Unknown