Lady Solitaire

To be honest, I think Lady Renegade is dying. Lady Solitaire is being born. I wll introduce her soon.

One of the hardest things to accept about me, indeed, one of the hardest things for me to accept about myself, is my solitude. I like being alone. I like my own company. I think I'm an interesting person. When I'm with myself it's one interesting person meeting another. I love exploring my own psyche, my own abilities, my own possibilites, my own little world of me, myself and I. I would go insane, for example, if this blog wasn't managed entirely by me, Lady Renegade and Lady Solitaire. When people see me sometimes I may seem kind of irritated - it's because they've interrupted some train of thought, broken into a private and sacred world that is writing. Sometimes I walk in a daze, and I forget trifle things like 'hello' and 'how are you'. In my mind, I'm silently, privately, conquering the world.

I also don't like people intruding, as they always do, and I don't like people trampling all over my opinions. I'm also very OCD - I have my coloured fineliners in a particular order, and I follow that order religiously when I write my notes, and so I get extremely annoyed when I drop them or someone mixes them up.

There are many misconceptions about solitary people. Solitary people do get lonely. I mean, solitary people enjoy their own company a lot more than other people do, but it doesn't mean we don't crave society like the rest of you - humans are social beings. It's very hard to form friendships when one is a loner like myself - and when I find myself in times when I really need a shoulder to cry on, willing shoulders are few and far between. Solitary people don't rely on people less; they just rely on themselves more - so in a way, solitary people are quite needy.

Sometimes all I want is to curl up under a tree with a good book and doze. Sometimes all I want to do is blog, blog, blog, and I hate it when I get interrupted. But sometimes I need company. It's like the law of gravity - there's only so long I can defy the physics. Sometimes I need someone to catch me, there are times when I simply cannot support myself and the many burdens of life. Sometimes I just need someone to accept me for what I am: a loner, alone and lonely, and love me nonetheless. Sometimes I just need...friends.

But they're never there.

And it's guys like that that keep the fire alive.

If you haven't figured out I'm a Taylor Swift fan then you are an idiot.

Sorry.

But seriously, if you didn't pick it up, please go see a doctor.

Part of the reason why I'm a Taylor Swift fan because when I listen to songs, being the writaholic I am, I look at lyrics. How are they written? Do they 'flow'? Do they match the music? And, most importantly, can I relate to them?

Yes seems to be the answer, for the most part. Here is a very long sample on how Taylor Swift has helped me get through the tears and trials of life:

• Teardrops on My Guitar (he's the reason for the teardrops on my guitar/the only one who's got enough of me to break my heart/he's the song in the car I keep singing/don't know why I do) 
• Picture to Burn (state the obvious/I didn't get my perfect fantasy/I realize you love yourself more than you could ever love me), 
• A Place in this World (I'm alone/on my own/and that's all I know/I'll be strong/I'll be wrong/Oh, but life goes on/Oh, I'm just a girl/Trying to find a place in this world) 
• Cold as You (And I start a fight cause I need to feel something/And you do what you want 'cause I'm not what you wanted...And you walk away with a great little story of a mess of a dreamer with the nerve to adore you) 
• White Horse (I'm not your princess/this ain't a fairytale/I'm gonna find someone some day who might actually treat me well) 
• You Belong With Me (I know your favourite songs/and you tell me 'bout your dreams/think I know where you belong/think I know it's with me) 
• Breathe (I can't breathe without you/but I have to) 
• You're Not Sorry (looking so innocent/I might believe you if I didn't know/Could've loved you all my life, baby/if you hadn't left me waiting out in the cold)
• Forever & Always (see I was there when you said forever and always/you didn't mean it baby/you said forever and always)
• Change (these things will change/I can see it now/these walls that they put up to hold us back will fall down)
• I'd Lie (and I can tell you his favourite colour's green/he likes to argue/born on the seventeenth/his sister's beautiful/he has his father's eyes/and if you asked me if I loved him/I'd lie)
• Sparks Fly (I could wait patiently but I really wish you would/drop everything now/meet me in the pouring rain/kiss me on the sidewalk/take away the pain)
• Dear John (dear John/I see it all now that you're gone/don't you think thirteen's too young to be played by your dark twisted games/when I loved you so/I should've known)
• Mean (someday I'll be living in a big old city/and all you're ever gonna be is mean/some day I'll be big enough so you can't hit me/and all you're ever gonna be is mean/why you gotta be so mean?)
• The Story of Us (I'd tell you I miss you/but I don't know how/and I've never heard silence quite this loud)
• Never Grow Up (oh, honey don't you ever grow up/don't you ever grow up/just stay this little/oh, honey don't you ever grow up/don't you ever grow up/it could stay this simple)
• Enchanted (please don't be in love with someone else/please don't have somebody waiting on you)
• Better than Revenge (she came along/got him along/and let's hear the applause/she took him faster than you could say 'sabotage')
• Haunted (come on, come on/don't leave me like this/I thought I had you figured out/can't breathe whenever you're gone/can't turn back now/I'm haunted)
• Last Kiss (all I know is I don't know how to be something you miss) 
• If This Was A Movie (Last night I heard my own heart beating/sounding like footsteps on my floor/six months gone and I'm still waiting/even though I know you're not there)

And the list goes on. Yes, that is how much I pull apart lyrics. This is why I am a good English student.

But the reason why I am writing this post is that within this song there is a small proof that there are boys out there who aren't cheaters or losers or douchebags or taken or heartbreakers or unparticular about hygiene. There are Mr Darcys out there, even if they are only celebrities who like pretty people. They're still out there.

Enchanted, one of the tracks on Taylor Swift's album 'Speak Now', is written about her meeting Adam Young of Owl City. On Valentine's Day, he posted this on his site:

Dear Taylor
by Adam Young

One blustery evening last October, I waited impatiently until the clock tolled midnight and then promptly bought Taylor Swift’s new record on iTunes. I played it in the kitchen, I played it in the car, I played it at the studio, I played it on flights to Japan and back; I just couldn’t keep away from it. Speak Now was the indisputable leader of my “top 5″ record list of 2010, which is slightly ironic because the other four albums were abstract experimental/post-rock/ambient works.

I always love decoding the sneaky secret messages hidden in Taylor’s written lyrics, so naturally the day Speak Now came out, I played the whole thing from top to bottom as I added up the capital letters per each song’s set of lyrics.

As track 8 came to a close and the album switched over to track 9 (a breathtaking song called Enchanted and one of my favorites on the entire record), something began to feel curiously “familiar.”

I couldn’t put my finger on it. Why did the song feel so personal? Why was it ringing a bell? Perhaps it was merely the word “wonderstruck” that indeed struck a sweet chord, but before the second chorus hit, I’d already added up the letters:

A-D-A

And then it hit me like a freight train. I didn’t even need to find that last letter “M.” A colorful swirl of memories flashed before my eyes as it all added up. My jaw hit the floor.

The track is absolutely gorgeous and I’m so tremendously honored that Taylor would write such an elegant song and thereby offer a gracious nod in my direction. Needless to say, I was lost for words and utterly smitten. I couldn’t stop smiling.

I figured such an eloquent gesture should be reciprocated by the most polite, heartfelt and respectful response I could possibly muster. It’s no secret that I’m a bit shy, so naturally music was the most articulate way of attempting such a sincere endeavor. How does one respond to such a personal outpouring of emotion and sentiment? I tossed and turned over that one.

They say “timing is everything” and that brings us to now. Today is Valentine’s Day.
And thus, here is my reply…

Listen to the song here:
http://owlcitymusic.com/vday

Dearest Taylor,

I’ll be the first to admit I’m a rather shy boy and since music is the most eloquent form of communication I can muster, I decided to record something for you — as sort of a “reply” to the breathtaking song on your current record. This is what I wanted so badly to tell you in person but could never quite put into words:

Everything about you is beautiful. You’re an immensely charming girl with a wonderful heart and more grace and elegance than I know how to describe. You are a true princess from a dreamy fairy tale; a modern Cinderella. I’m terribly sorry it’s taken me such a long time to reply but I figured Valentine’s Day was the perfect time to write this note to you and simply say… I was enchanted to meet you too.

Love,
Adam

Complete with a link to a cover of 'Enchanted', done in true experimental rock/techno style that is Owl City (Fireflies).

It is every girl's dream that a guy will write a song for you, but it's every writer's dream that every song, every poem and every story you've written about that special someone is appreciated. A tall order, but hey, I have to make up for being a measly 5'2" somehow :P

Gate To Paradise

This is a poem from a couple of years ago, when I was about thirteen, as part of my work with the Red Room Company's 'Sea Things' poetry project. For more information see here.

I lost this work a little while ago, somewhere between USBs, my home computer and the school's complex and largely malfunctional computer system. But I found it on the Red Room Company's flickr stream, incorrectly labelled, but my childish labour of love nonetheless. So here it is, as I sent it, edited heavily by my scrupulous teacher (hence the many semi-colons). I have removed some slightly strangely-placed commas.

Gate to Paradise:

I'm eager to leave civilization behind,

The highway I must cross is a cruel reminder of what we have done to this world;

And what the world has done to me. 

I race down the glistening sand path,

The sand glittering like crushed diamonds. 

I can sense myself getting closer to paradise,

The world's own version of nirvana;

Because with every step,

The air gets fresher,

Cleaner;

And tears turn into smiles. 

The fierce sea wind blows away my pain,

The cool water soothes my fiery anger,

And it is here,

Alone on the beach,

Just me, the sun and the sea;

I feel at peace. 

The beach is a land of goddesses,

The glorious sun,

The magnificent sea.

I am nothing compared to this glorious magnificence,

This magnificent glory;

But I don't mind.

The sea seems to be above such trifle things

Such as love, or hate, or guilt.

It loves unconditionally,

It kills indiscriminately,

And each wave remembers centuries of happiness and pain.

I don't want to walk back

To civilization,

To society;

Where rules impose an endless sea of pain,

Frustration,

Emptiness.

But as the sun goes down,

And the sea turns black,

I walk back into the game of life,

Where everyone plays until the bitter end. 

by L.R. edited by M.H.

So what do you think? How does it compare to the poems I compose now? It's a little snapshot of the past - fascinating, isn't it? Many things have changed since I wrote this poem, but many things stay the same - the tide comes in, comes out, the waves crash, and the beach continues to amaze and terrify me. 

I remember writing this vividly; being completely stuck, as I spend very little time around the beach compared to many Australians. Then we went to the beach, as a family, which for us is just down the road and across a horrendously busy highway - and I walked up the path of crushed diamonds (I tastefully ommited the piles of doggy doo that were on this crushed diamond corridor) and then to the wild and beautiful sea, all but abandoned, with the fiery sun scorching the sky a beautiful rosy hue before sinking gracefully into the mighty expanse of the sea. It was truly magnificent. The moment I got home and brushed the sand off my legs I wrote the poem, pretty much as is. Impulse writing is my speciality, and indeed, a poem written in the heat of the moment helped me gain entrance to my school.

Judge.
Me.
Who are you to judge?
You've got no wig,
Just an evil mask.

Hurt.
Me.
Who am I to cry?
I'm just a little girl,
Breaking inside.

Hold.
Me.
Who am I to ask you now?
I'm a human,
Talking to another human,
That's the theory, anyhow.

Love.
Me.
Who are you to refuse my cry?
I'd never wrong you,
I'd just hold you,
Until we say goodbye.

2011 Love Resolutions

1. I will not hide my ultra nerdiness just to impress the cute boy in my Year 11 Lit class. In a time when love is so unreliable, there is one thing that is not: A grades.

2. I will not kick myself every time I giggle in the wrong time or forget to wear makeup or show up to school with a slightly greasy hairline. I must not give the impression that I am not human.

3. I will stop dreaming about weddings and babies.

4. I will not have anymore 'Teardrops on My Guitar' moments - unnattainable boys are heartbreaking enough, without the addition of them being taken.

5. Whenever I am tempted to think about a boy of the flesh, I will think about Mr. Darcy, a nice, safe, fictional character who is also out of my league.

6. I will stop reading those incredibly lame and sexist 'How to Get a Boyfriend' articles, even just for fun.

7. I will not go out with a guy who has just been dumped, spends too much time playing sport, has mouldy sandwiches at the bottom of his bag and does not pay proper attention to personal hygiene. Even nerds must have standards.

8. I will not be ashamed of who and what and why I love. It is a part of who I am. 

9. I will not be afraid to be myself, regardless of anything or anyone.

10. I will love life. A love life will come later.

Itrytobepolite

There's a girl on the stage,
Itrytobepolite,
Even though she's always there,
And my times in the limelight are
few          and          far          between.
There's a girl blushing and bowing,
Itrytobepolite,
Even though I wish she was
Me.

There's a girl over there,
Itrytobepolite,
Even though it's hard not to stare.
And my times in a lover's arms are
few          and          far          between.
There's a girl blushing and smiling,
Itrytobepolite,
Even though I wish she was
Me.

There's a girl over there,
Itrytobepolite,
Even though she's always there,
I know that these times for me will be
few          and          far          between.
Itrytobepolite,
But,
Ialwaysstarttothink,
Why
          not
                    me?

New Name

I solemnly swear that I will try and keep this name for as long as I can bear. I will only change it if I can think of something reaallly cool.

I couldn't change it to The Secret World of a Misunderstood Writer. When you're fifteen looking at the product of your twelve-year-old self's mind, everything is kind of lame. Anyway, it's a nightmare to type and even worse to say.

A pariah is, essentially, an exotic word for the very unexotic state of being a social outcast/loser/freak of nature. Since skipping to year eleven I have some pretty solid proof that that is what I am. People hide things less when things are official. Like you don't pick on a criminal until he's in jail, that sort of thing.

I believe that you should never judge someone for what they do if it does not directly impact you, because a) it's none of your business, b) you don't know their motives, their background or whatever and c) it's still none of your farking business. It's so true that we don't know what we don't know, and oh, how often we forget it.

For the last couple of years I have been through some pretty serious depression. We judge people who are suicidal or depressed, when we have no right to - they're not giving up on life, they're not pathetic and ungrateful, they're just pushed by whatever it is to the edge of whatever they at the edge of. I should know. Depression is not something that needs to be fully justified or reasoned - it shouldn't be. It's like when you take a sicky from school you provide a note, not a detailed analysis of your family's medical history. I was depressed because I was sad and lonely and socially inept and struggling with what I wanted as opposed to what I got. And I had a lousy love life. Try as you may to convince me that I'm too young for it, it's not up to society to decide the when and who and why of love. It happened, and I was pressured not only by bullies but by people I trusted, people I thought cared about me to just move on, as if one can blink their eyes and their worries away.

Some things I went through were deeply private and personal, and yes, edited versions of them are on this blog. But some people took it and ridiculed me for it. I can't help feeling sad sometimes, and believe you me, there are heaps of girls (most of them the ones who mocked me) who get plenty upset over pretty trivial things. People don't have the right to judge my behaviour when one was as young as unhappy as I was. Nobody can ever say that they ever know what I went through, because they don't. I'm not saying that my life is Auchwitz terrible, but I am me, these things happened to me, and I dealt with them as best as I could. That's all you can ask of anyone.

Nowadays I am much happier, in theory. I'm still plagued by my oftentimes irrational behavior, which I'm afraid to say you're just going to have to forgive and forget. Perhaps nineteen out of twenty could deal with my problems much better than I did, but I never pretended to be one of those nineteen. Everyone has their weaknesses, and to have your weaknesses assaulted time and time again over a period of two or three years is a bit more than I could handle, on top of life and school and everything.

Don't think I'm blind to it - I know I was a right pain in the ass sometimes. I was almost bipolar in my behavior, swinging from hyper to depressive every six seconds, with only a few glimmers of normal. Perhaps I was more than people are used to. But everyone makes mistakes, everyone goes through rough patches, and nobody can be friends with everyone. I tried my best to grin and bear it, and you know what? I'm still crippled from all the times I denied myself the right to cry. I was only a little kid. Little kids cry.

I'm sorry if I've pissed anyone off or rubbed someone up the wrong way or cried someone to boredom over the last couple of years. I really shouldn't have to say this. It's bad enough that I was so sad and depressed, and now I have to apologise for it. Life is what it is - beautiful, unpredictable, etc.

Who are you to jump to conclusions, judge me by something you don't understand? Perhaps my life and trials seem pathetic to you, but believe you me, there are a lot of things that I find pathetic about your life, and I don't point out how dumb you are every time you trip over the same pothole. A person has no right to judge another human being. I used to think that perhaps people would be more understanding if they knew what it's like to cry yourself to sleep, to pine over what you don't have, and to feel guilty whilst doing so, but they'll never understand, and even if they did they'd still be hypocritical. There is no pleasing this world.

Private judgements are normal and necessary human behavior. It is how we learn from our mistakes and the mistakes of others. But think twice before you make a public criticism. You don't know anyone fully, or better than they know themselves. You may know their situation, but you don't know exactly how they reat to it or how it effects them. To judge someone as yourself is wrong on all levels. I am me, and I will not be judged by anyone, by any standards. I am not one of those people who could travel to hell and back and smile on the journey, and I never pretended to be. I am, after all, merely human. Try and remember that.

Blood.

Blood for the moon,
Blood for the earth,
Blood for the river,
Blood for the world.
Blood for the taking,
Blood gone to waste,
Blood we have forsaken,
And now it's too late.

Blood is our timekeeper,
Our housekeeper,
Our nurse.
Blood is our fortune,
Our livelihood,
Our purse.

The iron perfume
The scarlet dye,
Spills forth when we love,
Spills forth when we die,
As time goes by,
Our patience grows thin,
Our desperation increases,
Men do not understand,
Our time frame before we
Drip
drip
drip
away...

History's blackest mark.

"What an amazing man Hitler must have been...one cannot help but be in awe of a small, obscure man with such a dislikeable disposition who conquered Germany, and indeed the world. It seems extraordinary that he succeeded purely out of his impressive oratory skills, his "fanatical eyes" and fearsome presence - his book, with the absence of the voice that delutded a nation, is proof of how narrow-minded and ugly his vision, policy and philosophy really was. He was a drug that a tired, wearied, disillusioned population became addicted to, a drug that drove them blindly to the most inhumane and disgusting lengths to reach their twisted ideal, an artificial nirvana of the most appalling kind. And with all drugs come side effects, consequences - one man's voice shook the nation, and, alas, I have neither his talent nor the weary population needed for such a great, if terrible, revolution."

- On Hitler, L.R.

Imagine if Hitler had used his strengths, his great talents in capturing a nation and making it do as he bid, like a master to a dog - he would be more revered than President Lincoln or Martin Luther King. We cannot fathom what could drive a man to become something so terrible, to do such terrible things - as we sit comfortably in our comfortable homes, with good food and such abundant luxuries, we cannot contemplate the terror of war, of the Holocaust, of the mass killings, of the Night of the Long Knives, even the simple absence of a fair and democratic government we so take for granted. It seems impossible that one man, of insignificant means, could take the world nad turn it on its head, that every time we see the most gruesome pictures of Jews perishing in ghettos and concentration camps we can attribute this to one man, and one sick, twisted idealogy. And Hitler was not some crazy warlord of Ancient times - less than a hundred years ago he was the tyrant of the day.

People these days no longer have what Hitler had - a loving, adoring people, who were either brainwashed or forced into obedience, a tired, hungry, humiliated, war-weary population, willing to drink his lies and relish in what promises they brought. We cannot rouse such passions, such desperations, such rebellion and revolution in people now - for just causes, and for otherwise.

We are too complacent these days, too trusting of the flimsy protection democracy supposedly gives us - one must never forget that the Nazis rose to power during the Weimar Republic, which was supposedly democratic. We must never think that the Holocaust can never be repeated, because if we continue this complacency, this blatant disregard for politics or the deep, dark, frightening causes some people pledge themselves to, even now, today.

I know in my heart I would never be able to survive the horror and cruelty victims of concentration camps were subjected to. Even without my physical defects, even if I was fit and strong and a man, I would never be able to. I would poison myself with the sheer injustice of it all, pollute my mind with angry bitter thoughts of hate and sadness and self-pity and despair. It is in this that makes the Holocaust survivors true heroes - whilst we are often ignorant to the horrors humans can inflict upon one another, we are even more ignorant of the great courage it takes to know of it, but to ignore it nonetheless.