Home

Its a tea and toast night again. A somber evening, not even a scream outside in the city or cars endlessly honking other drivers and pedestrians; its calm and the slight stillness softens me.

3 months ago I came here feeling completely overwhelmed and knowing noone close by made me feel increasingly lonely. I sat by the window sil often looking down at China Town, wondering where all the busy people where going; If they were grocery shopping, late for a job interview or even out to find a hotdog at 12am on a school night. I was in love with the view, the sun setting and kissing my eye lids and occasionally reminding me of home which warmed my heart and blessed with me with a sence of security.

And even though I am happier here, more at peace and have a clearer mind I still feel lonely in this room sometimes. Because not much is my own except my suitcase and book belongings. Even a friend told me it feels like a hotel room, a sterile environment where you cant touch anything and there are no seperate rooms.

I miss my oven. I miss cooking a roast on a weekend and eating the leftovers the next day on bread. I miss making cups of tea in my own mugs. I miss having a washing machine, and not having to see the lady that rips me off every morning and lie when she asks when i am going to come back.

I do miss my home, a home where my computer is faster than my laptop, my books are all shelved on my bookcase and my pots and pans are stacked so badly they fall out when you open the door. Where friends drop by for afternoon tea and the sun makes everything looks pretty through your hair.

I cant wait to find a new home. :) Just as long as I never forget where my heart is.

Freedom Fighters

Anyone that knows me well, understands how I feel personally about the army. I look at my best mate and how he was treated and it makes me so angry - I am the first one to get mad and slag it off.

But while I am heavily against war, I cannot help but feeling emotional on Anzac Day and recognising and honouring why this day is important.

In my life I have experienced someone that has gone off to afganistan in the army and come back. That person will never be the same again. It makes me sad....that someone will see the world so different from now on, that they didnt sleep well incase something happens, that they know no different and at the time were always trying to find a way to put themself in a situation that harrowing again. I dont understand it.

While war is what I am against, fighting for the freedom of others is another thing. That I cant let slip between my fingers or dismiss as being barbarick. Its part of what I believe in. And within my beliefs so strong I honour those people close or that I once knew for the sacrifice they have put themself in because it was something they believed in.

In this world it will be generation after generation that we will honour on Anzac day, it wont just be our great grandparents, it will be our uncles, brothers, neices and friends.. Australia hasnt always been overally patrotic but one thing we can honesly say we do is take the time on this day to be respectfull to those that fought or died fighting to help a nation that needs it more than perhaps we do.

War is not the right way, I wonder how long it will take for people to realise its not the answer. That a human life is worth more than oil. I often wonder when mankind lost its way...

So even though I say to my best mate all the time how much I despise the army, I understand why he is today spending time with people he was in the army with, talking about their friends that went overseas, and what they might be doing now. Honour those even if you do not know them, because the fight for freedom is only measured by bravery and the definition of bravery is being terrified of something but doing it anyways, regardless of the risk.

And today while you are drinking and talking to the diggers, the will tell you they are not a hero, the ones that died are....honour that.

BECAUSE A REAL HERO DOESNT EVEN KNOW THEY ARE ONE.

The Magestic Beauty of Those that Inspire Me

- The most beautiful female photgrapher who does not even know that she often looks like an angel behind a lens. You made me look the way I feel in a photo, and seeing those photos made me realise that Im not so bad after all.

- The most inspiring graphic designer who does not even realise she is amazing! So humble, laughs at my dumb jokes, carrys my coffee and whom of which I have design envy. I hope to one day be as good as you.

- The woman with the most courage who travels around the world and experiences life the way I wish I could. Not only that, is super awesome, speaks tons of languages, does alot of things in the shower and is a brilliant photographer (especially of live alphabets!). You make me laugh.

- The girl who is so good at so many things, could be anything she wants because she is the smartest girl I know. A very tallented clothing designer, a loving mum, brilliant drawer, amazing singer and knows how to cheer me up when i am down. Habbanadah.

- My sister who kindly helps me with my homework and drinks endless cups of tea with me. Always makes me laugh with her songs about the current situation and has an arch enemy that I may even one day wirte a comic about (with her permission of course.)

- The guy that rocks out with me and who I know would always be there if I needed him. Best bass player I know, great big heart and knows just how to have a good time old school style. I would be lost without you mate, but Im gonna stop now before you call me gay.

- A painter whos art made me curious to want to know more. Your very modest but I could paint like you I would quit my day job and thats all i would do. A beautiful person who makes me laugh and I know i can be my stupid usual self around.

- One of the oldest friends I have who has been through everything with me. Knows the inside jokes, we speak our own language, laughs at the stupid things and who can sing (though noone knows because she is very sneaky about it). I am so proud she is on a new path with her life because she might finally see herself as the amazing girl I see.

- A dreadlocked queen. You are so inspiring the way you live your life. If you want something you go get it. I wish i was that brave and felt I had nothing to loose and went for it the way you do. I love catching up with you. You are a truly beautiful girl.

While I Was Waiting for You (My Tea Went Cold)

I live in a room where nothing is my own and I define myself by single serving packets of sugar and whatever I can fit in the tiny fridge. My toaster is on the floor, my belongings in my suitcase by the window and everyone that enters reminds me it feels like short stay accomodation.


I feel slightly uncomfortable in my skin right now as I get dressed with my back to the mirror. I look at my clothed reflection and wonder how many more T shirts I think I need before I have a satisfying collection.

My favourite day is Sunday in the beautiful afternoon sun. I kick myself for biting my tounge when I want to say something nice, and kick myself even harder whenI do and I have to keep my hands to myself.

The sun sets and doesnt stream through my window anymore.....the fog blankets the city and keeps me warm; a comfort I yern to experience, safety and a sence of security.

Down the Rabbit Hole (In china town)

Im really tired of eating chinese food, paying for laundry and my tea going cold while I day dream about things that matter but consume too much tea drinking time.

Everything is in a suitcase and the things that are not feel like they dont have a place.

I want an oven.

My stockings got a massive ladder in them this morning and I spilt my tea on my skirt before I had to leave.

I feel somewhat really stupid and embarrassed. My clothes rarely match, Im really unfit, exhausted, overworked, if I blush one more time my cheeks will explode.

If only I had normal TV I would crawl into bed and host the biggest pity party.

Just RSVP by the weekend.

The face with no Name

2 weeks ago on my way to college I stumbled across a lit candle in a small corner of the Queen Victoria Building. The corner was dark and cold and in the mornings was home to a homeless man with short grey hair who was very thin. Every morning I would walk past and know he would be lying there asleep next to a cup of takeaway coffee and a chocolate muffin that would often only have one bite taken out of it before it was discarded a short distance from where he lay. I wondered on occasion if he bought the muffin himself or if every morning someone would give it to him along with something to drink. He looks old, tired, done.

On this particular morning I didnt look for the homeless man and the only reason I stopped was because a candle was lit in the dark corner he normally resides.....a candle, a small bunch of flowers, rollies and a note that read 'If you knew this man please pay your respects' and then a short list of nicknames he was most known by. I stopped and looked for a few moments before moving on. I think I convinced myself that the homeless man was just gone and he would be back. It was really sad to think he passed away on the street in the very spot I see him every day and that someone had to find him that way.

For a solid week the shrine stayed and the homeless man didnt show.

On Thursday before Good Friday I walked by and took this photo of the lone candle someone had lit for him every day for the past few weeks. Someone bought him coffee and someone noticed he was gone.

In amongst a world of chaos, even the smallest of us are missed.