This time last year…

I guess you could call this an extremely delayed typical graduation speech… But, these are what my final thoughts of graduating were…. And what I still feel when I look back on my last days today.  A reflection of a very important paragraph in the chapter of my life, if you will.

On this very day last year, it was one of the most daunting, yet most exhilarating days in my life thus far. Although, I’m sure that many… or most people were pumped to be done with high school, I almost instantaneously felt like a kid lost in a shopping centre. I was suddenly in a world without the routine that I had followed for the past 13 years of my life. I felt lost.

It was one of those days that any sane high school kid would count down the days ’till… and the thing is, I did. Except, I didn’t realise how much I didn’t want those last days to come… until I started willing the seconds to drag in to hours. That’s the moment when you realise you’ve gone bat-shit crazy. I would walk around the hallways passively thinking about how ‘this time… next week, this won’t be my locker anymore’ and ‘this is the last second-last tuesday I will ever have of high school’… and this scared me so much.

Backtrack 2 years to 2011, I remember sitting with one of my best friends on a ramp outside the gym, drinking our iced coffees, watching the Year 12s wreak havoc on the school thinking about how ‘this time next year… that’s gonna be us’. As we stared at a year 12s artistic drawing of a penis on the backboard of a basketball hoop… I was already starting to feel a little scared of the year ahead.

Then, let’s skip forward again… Except not too forward. At this very moment last year, I was over at one of my best friend’s houses drinking my heart out, ‘getting ready’ for muck up day. I was eating pizza with my close group of high-school friends by a pool… sitting on a red couch we had taken from somebody’s hard-rubbish pile just a few hours back. We were talking about nothing of substance for ages, and we were all pumped to get high school ‘done and dusted’. Then in a few hours, I would wake up early, make a labyrinth in the Year 9 locker bays wearing a moustache and a sombrero. Then after walking through the guard of honour for our final assembly, I’d get home, conk out on my bed for a few hours then get ready to go to our valedictory dinner.


The thing is, I hate change. This is the only reason I was dreading walking in to our final assembly on that day. If I could, I would go back and do the same boring shit I did in high school everyday… Except life doesn’t permit these perpetuating pitstops, which is just bloody fantastic. Seriously, though… it is. Otherwise I’d be comfortably looping the easy years of life again and again.

However, of course I must do that whole ‘reflective thing’ and look back at all the times I did enjoy in all my schooling years. I did enjoy the free breakfasts every Wednesday. Then that crappy coffee machine in the Senior School kitchen. I loved hanging out in the art rooms (yes, I was one of those kids), and the hierarchical system that went on in the school buses.

I know this is also a very cliche thing to say, but a year has gone by and I still stand by this. I couldn’t have asked for a better group of people to have in my cohort. I didn’t speak to all of them, but I enjoyed how reputable we were for being the laziest year level… In the history of all year levels. I also loved how one of my favourite teachers was chuckling at the fact I was bawling my eyes out whilst walking through that guard of honour. Although sometimes I may miss school like crazy, I’m grateful for every person that made those moments so memorable… Then to all those people who have shaped me to become what I am today.

… Now, a toast to the future… and my undying dread of those ‘last moments’ in life.

Kylie. x


Paying homage to Katherine Mansfield | A Girl’s Play

Much respect to the late Katherine Mansfield. I dig her writing and
her crazy life adventures.  Originally written for Literature during VCE    where we had to adapt to Katherine’s style of writing… Or attempt to…

Now, enjoy! 

A Girl’s Play

On a Sunday afternoon Laney kneeled on the soft, green grass as she leaned over to pick a daisy from the pond. Her lush hair swinging back and forth – back and forth brushing against the dirt as a soft swirl of dust settled against her little black shoes. A bell on the tall clock tower tolled, a deep groaning noise.

Bringing her hands under her skirt, she swooped it over the edge of the seat – the hem of her dress puddling on the velvet floor. And like a little blue bird, she lifted her chin high, looking over the tall heads of the suited gentlemen, until finally she perched her chin in her hands staring through their bodies onto the stage. The audience hushed as the lights dimmed.

A spotlight signalled the gentleman in the black suit to take careful steps from behind the curtains towards the mahogany desk, careful steps – getting him nowhere. Soaking in the lilting essence of the leather that wafted from the chairs he suddenly stopped. Her breath caught and she gave a tiny yelp. Falling, falling – he dropped on all fours like a suited cat. Thud! “Oh no! The tragedy!” he crawled!

A woman sneezed nearby, her wrinkly, shaking hands reaching into her coat sleeve. Laney, startled, turned calmly back to the stage, only to have her eyes caught by the sight of a woman elegantly leaning into the giant man, gazing dreamily into his eyes as he whispered into her hair. Laney blushing a deep crimson – shook her head as her soft curls gently fell around her face, framing perfectly. With a skilled flick of her wrist, she released the yellow lolly, puckering her lips as she turned towards the stage once more.

The crawling man stretched a long arm, reaching the lowest desk drawer, tenderly drawing it open. The actor gently patted the affected wood until he found a little black piano. The gentleman opened the piano case – looking deeply upon the aged yellow keys, and howled out like a wounded animal. Hunched and towering over the little piano that was too small for him now, the man played. Seas of people snorted with terrible shrieks of laughter ruthlessly engulfing the ugly piano noises that spurted from the stage floor. Oh! How it ached. How terribly it ached! Her lips trembled and her eyes quivered – but she mustn’t cry. Oh no, she mustn’t.

You see, she too had a little black piano gathering dust on a shelf – the keys grown stiff and the strings brittle from years of disuse. With a quivering, unsteady hand, she would pry the piano lid open with a creak before it snapped shut with a clap. She liked to dream, though. With floating clouds of thoughts echoing through her mind, uncaught, what it must be like to play again.

The lights flickered on swallowing the entirety of the room as the curtains slithered down with a hiss. The audience broke into applause, the sounds of their hands like relentless drops of rain pattering against a rooftop. Like a bird about to take flight, Laney leaned forwards, with the tip of her toes pressing hard against the floor, before turning to leave the room. Laney walked closer towards the tall opened oak doors that welcomed her as the bitter warmth bid her farewell. The perfectly dull light revealed her golden strands of hair struggling to be noticed among the grey. The crevices and folds of skin starkly coming forth like a draggled weight on the frail body – covering like a veil that shielded the expired youth that was herself.

Running up to the lady was a little girl with an impish smile, the juices of strawberries dribbling fast down her face – the bliss of the child only merely reflected in the old lady’s eyes. The lady reached down to the child, only to grab a handful of air as the child turned to run back into the room. Hobbling, the old lady reached her seat, falling fast and hard into the seat.

The curtains rising fast, revealed the man once more. The man entered the stage in a black suit – his slick hair pooling against his red face. His eyes glazed, yet emotionless. Clasping his chest, so silently, vulnerably – Laney could feel the blood running through his veins like a clam of steam rushing out of a boiling kettle. The bulging vessels on his forehead pulsing so violently. And his hands, oh his hands! Clammy and shaking! Shutting her eyes tight, but never tight enough. Had he lost his wife? Yes, he had indeed! The tragedy! Oh, the tragedy!

Laney had also lost a lover. The doctor pressing her hands hard against her lover’s back as the terrible cough of his clawed out of his chest like a frenzied cat trying to claw its way out of water. The wheezing sound he had made was Life itself heaving out of him in one final gush. Silently that night she let the curtains fall and stored away her piano one last time.

The man in a terrible fit of despair, showed nothing as he paced the length of his room. Finally, one silent tear escaped his empty gaze. It’s drop shattering into a thousand shards of liquid emotion – he quickly placed a finger and absorbed what was left. The gentlemen in the crowd tried to conceal their despair as they held fast onto their lovers with their blubbering faces.

Laney wrapped her arms around herself as a smother of warmth blanketed her as she stared desolately into the perpetuating darkness of the room. Is it possible to feel so completely and irreparably vacant even in the midst of a crowd? She watched the actor take a worn coat from a hook, placing it on himself before retiring from the room. The curtains fell and the audience applauded and soon Laney was left cradling herself. The little impish girl ran up to the old lady, tugging on her dress. ‘Are we leaving yet, granmama?’ said the little girl. The corners of Laney’s mouth drooped as she looked towards the door. ‘You rud along first, by little dear. Gradmama must stretch out her joints.’ said Laney with an affected drawl.

As she hobbled to the tall oak doors, the chilling air brushed against her as she shivered. She looked back one more time towards the silent stage, as her sigh was carried away with the bitter wind.

Lesson 3: Accepting the good, the bad and the ugly.

Our lives are made up of fleeting moments that are the embodiment of our experiences that define us… and one of the things that has helped me enjoy good times and get through the bad times is knowing the fact that nothing is ever lasting.

The phrase “This too shall pass” is a proverb that so beautifully encapsulates the transient nature of our states of emotion.
This has taken quite a turn from my first couple of posts where I get by with saying, ‘stop being a little bitch’ a lot more than necessary… mainly because I’ve never really felt so attuned with a phrase before.

I realised that this has basically been my motto in life, except I’ve never seen it so perfectly and simply put together, until I saw that one of my favourite dancers had it tattooed onto the inside of her wrist. This then caused me to sporadically think of all the times I’ve thought of this to get me through the little struggles of like… such as just before I get an injection, that painful moment when my toe collides with the corner of the bed, and passing through that dreaded feeling of possible failure. It even applies to the positive things, such as winning an award, going to a formal, partying and all that fun stuff. Regardless of the positive and negative states of emotion we’re in, it will inevitably pass.

So, what has this phrase taught me apart from that all my happiness can and will be taken away from me in the same way a toy is taken from a child?
It has taught me to relish in all the chances and opportunities I’ve been given. Not to dwell on the negatives, or to take the positives for granted. It’s helped me to embrace sadness, anger and frustration… Allowing me to get passed anxiety and those moments where I’m so stressed I feel like I’m literally dying. As you may… or may not have read from my last post, it has especially allowed me to stop letting fear of failure have so much dominance over my life.

This leads me to Phase 2: Embrace it, then let it go.
As I hope I’ve made this point clear enough, moments are fleeting and dwelling on them for prolonged periods of time is just allowing you to miss out on other events that are just as crucial. So, when we are in a massive shit-stain of a moment, it’s inevitable that we must overcome it, but firstly we must embrace it.

If any of you have read “Tuesdays With Morrie” by Mitch Albom, you would’ve read that in Morrie’s final months before death, he learnt to embrace the fear of death, to understand and accept it, then finally learning to detach himself from it. My interpretation of this put into everyday context is that when you are experiencing something so negative that eats away at your soul… don’t let it dominate you. Understand the shodiness you’re feeling and know that you can overcome it. Then after understanding how crap you’re feeling, allow yourself a moment to get it all out of your system… But, don’t dwell on it. You want to be left with something that allows you to grow as a person and hopefully changes you for the better, not something that haunts you at every twist and turn of life.

The reason I’ve written this post today is partially due to the phrase, ‘This too shall pass’… That, and as a public appreciation of my mother and father’s kick-ass parenting skills. Whenever it comes to the time where I’m so stressed out that I’m panicking… Like a little bitch (sorry, it had to be done), my parents will tell me that it’s okay to stress/cry/panic… However, after I get it all out of my system, I need to let it go and not to dwell on it. By dwelling on it, you’re just allowing yourself another reason for pointless self-loathing, another chance to relive and regret the choices you’ve made in life… But frankly, it’s completely useless and unfortunately nobody currently possesses the ability to time-travel and change all those bad decisions.

I’ve noticed that I focus a lot on ‘overcoming the negatives’, but this, too, applies to those feelings of great joy. Except, I don’t really feel the need to tell you guys how to enjoy yourself, since you can probably figure that out all on your own. What I will point out is that in moments of great joy, you need to make the most of it. You need to take that bundle of joy, and turn it into a mother-f$%^in’ rainbow.

Until next time, mis amigos.

Kylie. x