small steps

push yourself to get up before the rest of the world - start with 7am, then 6am, then 5:30am. go to the nearest hill with a big coat and a scarf and watch the sun rise.

push yourself to fall asleep earlier - start with 11pm, then 10pm, then 9pm. wake up in the morning feeling re-energized and comfortable.

get into the habit of cooking yourself a beautiful breakfast. tomatoes and mushrooms in real butter and garlic, an egg, slice up a fresh avocado and squirt way too much lemon on it. sit and eat it and do nothing else.

stretch. start by reaching for the sky as hard as you can, then trying to touch your toes. roll your head. stretch your fingers. stretch everything.

buy a 1L water bottle. start with pushing yourself to drink the whole thing in a day, then try drinking it twice.

write down everything you do, including dinner dates, appointments, assignments, coffees, what you need to do that day. no detail is too small.


organise your room. fold all your clothes (and bag what you don’t want), clean your mirror, your laptop, vacuum the floor. light a beautiful candle.



have a luxurious shower with your favourite music playing. wash your hair, scrub your body, brush your teeth. lather your whole body in moisturiser, get familiar with the part between your toes, your inner thighs, the back of your neck.



push yourself to go for a walk. take your headphones, go to the beach and walk. smile at strangers walking the other way and be surprised how many smile back. 



message old friends with personal jokes. reminisce. suggest a catch up soon, even if you don’t follow through. push yourself to follow through.



think long and hard about what interests you. crime? sex? boarding school? long-forgotten romance etiquette? find a book about it and read it. there is a book about literally everything. 



become the person you would ideally fall in love with. let cars merge into your lane when driving. stick your tongue out at babies. compliment people on their cute clothes. challenge yourself to not ridicule anyone for a whole day. then two. then a week. walk with a straight posture. look people in the eye. ask people about their story. talk to acquaintances so they become friends.



lie in the sunshine. daydream about the life you would lead if failure wasn’t a thing. open your eyes. take small steps to make it happen for you.

Edited version of 16 Small Steps to Happiness, author unknown

Today we had a motivational speaker (I rolled my eyes too) come in. My whole perspective on life has been turned around. I feel refreshed, I feel as if his words have bettered me, invigorated me, and isn't that the best thing words can do?

"Self-Discovery, A Path Unknown Yet Mystical"

Artic Monkeys

Lately I have immensely enjoyed yoga-practice. It clears my mind and brings me back to the basics. My breath, the earth and my body. It makes me feel connected to something much greater than myself and my day-to-day worries.

However I have a feeling that I am just chipping at the surface of something larger, much more beneficial. I feel that in spare time, especially in the next couple of weeks (which happen to be the holidays - yay!) I should be spending more time indulging in more things that make me feel connected, that make me feel fulfilled, whole.

(I admit, this does sounds a bit weird, like a chapter pulled straight out of one of those books in incense-smelling stores that don't make much sense entitled: Self-Discovery, A Path Unknown Yet Mystical And Definitely The Key To Educational Success.)

I set myself mini goals (the whole list might be a bit too private to share in such a public space) in order to appreciate the things that give my life meaning.

I want to find my own way when it comes to food for example. This does not mean that I will go on a massive diet or starve myself, but I think that challenging myself to cook meals completely made out of whole, fresh, unprocessed foods once in a while could help me get into the good habit of eating well and respecting my body.

Other resolutions include...

• reading in French more
• adding to the list I have saved on my desktop called: "Things to check out (because it's time to get out there taste wise)" which covers anything from nifty cafe shops I have seen in the corner of my eye but not managed to check out to movies I have spotted at work (I work at a DVD rental store)
• spending less time on the computer and on my phone - maybe even opting for no-electronic Fridays
• writing more lists
• stepping out of my comfort zone more often, and being OK with rejection / failure / stuffing up
• worrying less of what other's think of me

Is my existence validated?

High patterned socks. Converse, All Star that is, not One Stars that are $20 cheaper. The most expensive the better. Doc Martens. Vans. Think legs. Bony elbows. Short skirts.

What has our generation been reduced to?

I cringe at the girls that surround me who smile with a hollowness, who laugh with an emptiness, echoing with waves of ache. "Notice me", their branded bags seems to scream. "I've conformed, look at what I'm wearing. It's the same as what you guys are! Is my existence validated?". 

But how do they expect boys to treat them like royalty when they aren't even treating themselves. To a facial expression that is not constantly in tune with the one that the girl next to them is wearing. To lids that are not heavy with makeup, night and day. (Slippery gunk, smother shimmer, use the weird scalpel thing to curl your eyelashes: and voilà! Guaranteed popularity!). To tastes that fill their cheeks and wrap around their stomach. To a single independent breath, letting them stretch up, extend their backs and allowing their lungs to do what lungs do.

But maybe I am lying. Maybe this is something I tell myself to feel OK. Because who knows?

Maybe conforming is the only way to pass the time.

i'm ok

This week & weekend turned out to be a huge struggle for me. Here are some excerpts of my journal over the week...

Monday

Instead of Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday I call on Five, Four, Three and then Finally 1, Finally 2. Why do I only live (really live) 28 per cent of my life?

Wednesday

It all has to be justified, but I cannot justify the vacancy and pain I feel in the pit of my stomach. But above all, the uncertainty is the worst. I feel like Atlantis: a wealthy city swallowed by the sea of ancient times.

Friday

Instead of concentrating on being OK again, I count my bruises. I'm trying so hard to forget, but some part of me feels that if I covered up all the sore and put on a brave face, day by day I will get a little smaller and my scars will get bigger and spread until I am but a pile of broken promises and stray memories. 

Today

I feel linked to something that means much more than what I am confronted to daily. Sometimes, I can feel the whispers and vibrations of the stars and the branches and the water and I am comforted. I try not to worry about the mediocre and just focus on the horizon. I never thought how difficult it would be to be OK everyday. 

Yes, it's glum and sad. Yes, sometimes I ask myself whether these feelings are normal or if there is something wrong with me. I 'fell out' with one of my closest friends, and it sucks. Oh boy does it suck. I wish she could know how much I respect her and still think of her as really  a cool person. Anyways, I'm concentrating on mending myself and trying not to freak out when I see pictures of how it was before.

Good luck for the week to come peeps, I hope this blogpost hasn't brought you down much.
I think this stuff just needed to be said. But you should know that I'm OK, now. Or at least better.

xx
-lotus
(and if you're feeling down after reading this, here is a picture of my sister a unicorn:)

conquer

At my school, we have what some people call the "bogans". Kids as young as seven or eight learn to push away the same kids that of their age but who have less fortunate backgrounds than them. They learn from the older ones that those who don't go to all their classes (who "wag"- I really don't know who comes up with this Australian slang), and who apparently smoke and who have a new 'boyfriend' every week are called "bogans".

It was last year, when our french teacher was telling us about our natural instinct to push away people whom we don't understand, that I realised that labelling these kids as "bogans" didn't even give them a chance to step out of their bubble and, say, be interested in something or be surrounded by friends. Instead of getting to know them and their stories (which are probably more full-on and interesting than ours will ever be), we exclude them.

Because that girl with the pierced upper lip, with the mood-ring hair, that has gone stringy and damaged, well I think that it's more than her hair that's damaged. Because even if one day she wakes up at a hotel room in an unknown bed and she looks at the dark ceiling and thinks "Oh my, I think it's time to get on with my life" she won't be able to relive the past. I think it will even be hard for her to accept that a chunk of her life was spent giving her body away like a pamphlet and that she can never get that back. But I hope that when the time comes she will be able to pick herself up and conquer.

tuesday last wisps of thought

I painted my nails metallic yesterday and three people came up to me and literally told me that they hadn't pictured me as the type to paint my nails black. I told them that 1/ it was metallic, and that 2/ it made me feel like Lorde-y and Beca-y (from Pitch Perfect) and altogether pretty rebellious and grungy and that 3/ I didn't know there was a "type" who painted their nails black. They gave me a really weird look.

Everything is about types.
I'm pretty happy about my position when it comes to conforming. I'm not some sort of riotous cult-leader promoting fungi and cinnamon based hand cream, but I do enjoy being... well, different.

There are these girls in my class who are really intensely preparing for the formal (prom, ball, dance?), some of them have bought up to three dresses, and are going to pick according to their mood on the day. Pretty crazy, right? I'm kind of dreading the whole lead-up to it (I mean there is so much stuff happening between now and DECEMBER!!)... But, then, I guess there is still a part of me who would like to dress up in a dress and feel like a princess for one night.

Anyhow, I was just hanging out with some amazing people who are quite older than me and they said they always struggled with high school because of the clear distinction between the 'herd' and the 'outcasts'. I guess it's a rite of passage then...?

fiction / the lighthouse

"I remember being barefoot, my nails were caked with sand, and my hair was messy with sea salt. I was running away from somebody, my chest heaving, and my breath forming whips of transparent smoke in the air. I was holding some sort of battered suitcase, leather it seemed. 

I could only concentrate on the foamy sea, lashing out, and pouring over my toes, my thoughts a windmill, while the sky above me was going in and out of focus. The wind carried my complicated, never-ending thoughts, gathering them, imprinting them into the sand, and then sending them away into the water or planting them into the soil. I tried to stop, or slow down at least, I wanted to kneel down, put my hands on my ears to block out the sound of the seas' screeching and open the suitcase I was holding. You see, I desperately needed to know what was inside of it.

The head-ache I felt when running, was stronger than anything I had ever felt, ramming into my skull, but I didn't mind, there was something soothing about the pain." 

The boy shook his head, and paused before continuing:

"They say that dreams are only a figment of one's imagination, but I'm here to say no, of course they aren't. They are more real, more vivid, more raw than any human-experienced reality. But when a one does not know or cannot fathom the truth, he denies.

It loomed up in front of me, pale and white; a sort of intricate lighthouse. My feet brought me closer and closer to the building, thumping to the rhythm of my breath, or was it the breath of the sea? to and fro, to an fro.

As I entered the lighthouse I was well-aware of the darkness behind me trying to swallow me whole, trying to drag my spirit away. I kicked at the black dust that was grabbing, reaching for my legs, my hips, trying to fold itself into my mind.

After, there were the flight of stairs. My feet hitting on the sand-stone, a smooth and creamy white, arms flailing about, I had to reach the top of the tower. I knew that up there there would be warm yellow light that would pour all over the walls." 

He laughed quietly, a laugh without happiness.

"You don't know how much I wanted, how I thirsted for the comfort of that light. When I finally reached the room, I knelt down in the middle of it and looked at the case."

i'm hurting and school isn't helping (ugh, being a teenager isn't for me)

it's so hard to understand that i am older now than i was then, when every step i take seems to be the wrong one. i thought that older we got, the more we knew. but it seems to be the opposite.

it seems kind of pointless to remember that the speed of light is 299 792 458 m / s when that very light inside of me seams to have quietly seeped out of me.



it's difficult to fathom the fact that my lungs are situated here, and that my stomach is meant to be there, when my whole body feels like it is shifting to try an accommodate hurt.


i know it will pass, but i feel so vulnerable.

and I stand

“All she wanted 
was to find a place to stretch her bones 
A place to lengthen her smiles 
and spread her hair 
A place where her legs could walk 
without cutting and bruising 
A place unchained 
She was born out of ocean breath. 
I reminded her; 
‘Stop pouring so much of yourself 
into hearts that have no room for themselves 
Do not thin yourself 
Be vast 
You do not bring the ocean to a river.’”

—	Tapiwa Mugabe, You Are Oceanic

The world is buzzing and exploding with light and sound. When I look up, all the summer fruit are slowly coming out, the insects are crawling, the air is thick, my heart is doing what hearts normally do - pumping - and I stand. I stand barefoot, on dry grass. I slap a mosquito. I stand, waiting.

I stand gobsmacked at Mugabe's words, I stand with a simultaneous thirst for people and a thirst for being alone away from everything. I stand broken, and so mixed up, and most of all I stand trying. Trying so hard to stop jumping from one mood to the next, trying to show people who I am, really, inside. 

and this is your life.

My biggest fear in the world into one quote...

“One day, you’re 17 and you’re planning for someday. And then quietly, without you ever really noticing, someday is today. And then someday is yesterday. And this is your life.” 

- John Green

humanity and creating (as per usual)

It is Saturday afternoon, and my eyes sting a bit from being in front of the computer and reading feminist/amazing/mind-blowing articles on none other than Rookie. All this beautiful creativity that I sometimes get a glimpse of (via magazines such as Rookie) is very bitter sweet.

On one hand it kind of makes me feel like I am but a bystander as I feel small and overwhelmed by this torrent of art. When I tell myself "OK Zoé, today you are going to write a blog post/paint/cook/learn a poem what have you", I am constantly reminded that others have done better, greater things so why try and 'compete' with them?

"We were made to create" SOURCE.

On the other, I am filled with some crazy electricity that gives me hope in humanity and I am reminded that there is more than just high-school, and the people I have met.

Yes, as real raw lovely humans in my life there is my ex-neighbour and her husband who have become my adoptive aussie grandparents (they regularly go to beanie festivals and the like), and my sister's best friend who is fiery and stubborn. There are also my best friends (how funny it is to classify one's friends as first, second, best friends, isn't having them at your side good enough?) who are all hilarious, sometimes hermit-like, sometimes party animals and crazy-smart in their own ways.

There are people I don't know such as Tavi, Lisa Mitchell, Lorde, Emma Watson, Johnny Depp who exist and people whom I've never met (and never will) but have somehow fallen in love with, fictional but strangely so much more tangible than the kids I hang out with: Juno, Lola, Alaska, Charlie, Amélie and so forth. Those people are quite big in my life, because they are always behind me, whispering, snickering, advising.

But there are girls and boys and women and men who are so bloody obnoxious and snobby and narrow-minded that, let's put aside that I'm an amateur Buddhist aside for a minute here, I want to punch them.
Oops, maybe I got a bit carried away there...

light tricks, life tricks

listening to shake it up by florence and the machine (well, anything from florence and the machine really) and admiring lisa mitchell's music video, coin laundry, that you can find here.

just playing with light, just trying to write.
just trying to capture the little moments
and trying to push away the big ones.
(i.e. college, the future and other such things)

have a nice week,

and a belated happy halloween to all.

xx

lotus marina.

a quote for you

This quote by John Green, perfectly sums up my life.

"That plane had TVs in the back of each seat and once we were above the clouds, Augustus and I timed it so that we started watching the same romantic comedy at the same time on our respective screens. But even though we were perfectly synchronized in our pressing of the play buttons, his movie started a couple seconds before mine, so at every funny moment, he’d laugh just as I started to hear whatever the joke was."

- John Green, ‘The Fault in Our Stars’

Artwork by Maya Pletscher

I like the way John Green writes: it's simple and it flows and you could spend years jumping from one of his chapters to the next. Above all, I like the way he can take a thought, a normal one that you would encounter every day, and rolls it around to slip it snugly into one of his novels. And you think, yes, oh my, yes, that's exactly what I've been thinking all this time, and that feeling is exactly what I wanted to express 

but I could never quite find

the right words.

same no more: rookie

There is a lot of sameness out there.
Same heap-loads of magazines promising beautiful hair In Only Ten Minutes! or lengthy articles on real issues (When Your Crush Isn't So Crushworthy: How To Drop Him in Five Steps). And flipping through them, the same fashion trends (short skirt, high socks & converse or Vans), the same thoughts, the same opinions, the same bands and music etc.

Yes, there are people out there who are labeled as 'different' and 'original', but a couple of weeks back I found myself doubting their authenticity. What proportion of that feminist, with a hip blog book full of quotes from her favourite movies, was real and what was made up? Was she just a facade that a tired-out twenty-something year old slipped into every evening, once she came home from work?

It had been a while that these thoughts were turning around in my head. What if originality did not exist. What if the things I saw around me, and that I regarded as unique, were just an illusion, and copied from some other artist? Was life just a circle of copying and being copied from? Where was the core of ideas and originality and how did it take form?

Then, my mother showed me something that she knew I'd be interested in, it was this talk by Tavi Gevinson.

OK, I'd just like to take a minute here to acknowledge this girl. When I heard her speak, and later looked through her online magazine called Rookie, I was literally blown away. All the thoughts on originality being skin-deep were replaced with an idea. Then another, and another. With this girl, I was brought to places I didn't even knew existed.

Go check her out, because for me, she was a breath of fresh air.

Tavi, by Petra Collins

(over thinking, all the time)

I cannot get enough of poems (I write these lop-sided poems all the time, on paper-towels, in my note-books, on my hand), maybe it's because a poet can be cryptic when writing but when it comes to actual sentences, it's only polite to specify what you're talking about.

I'm having trouble with high-school. At school, I sit on the second row, I put my hand up when I know the answer and when I feel particularly brave, I receive awards that don't mean much, I doodle on my friend's binder when I feel as if I have nothing to lose, but there is something that isn't quite right. Let me try and explain.

I sit behind this boy, let's call him Martin. I've known him for a fair bit of time and all the girls go after him. He sits surrounded by these girls, with big eyes, high pony-tails (dark, blond, brown and red haired girls) and thin legs. They dress the same, speak the same, love the same music, movies. OK, so we can call them the 'crowd', just your average crowd of girls fighting to be noticed in an environment where they're all the same. Typical high school-ness.

The reason why it pains me that he pays attention to these girls is because he's smart. He's meant to be smart at least: athletic, 'A' student & good-looking. I look(ed) up to him because of his wit in class and his jokes that make me laugh. He's travelled the world too. I simply don't understand why he'd be interested in those girls, those girls who've never left the continent or who don't know the meaning of being sarcastic.

Martin is but an example, Martin and me will never be M+Z=♡ on a desk in led-pencil. I suppose a part of me - the part that over thinks all the time and who makes jokes that fall flat - wishes that I could be noticed by someone like him.

no, i'm not messing with you: i actually did go to a party

A couple of days ago, it was my first time going to a dance party hosted by the school. For a couple of years, I had always pushed these dance parties aside classifying them being 'lame' and thinking that they consisted solely on a couple of enthusiastic 16 year olds making out in front of me and a group of other very socially-challenged kids.

It wasn't like that, I am glad to report.

I dragged two of my friends with me on the Thursday and we arrived at the hall. The yawn-oh-my-assembly-is-really-quite-boring hall that I've known all my life had turned pretty hip in just a couple of hours. DJ? Check. Drinks (no alcohol folks) and Food. Kinda check - $4 for a Sprite? I don't think so. Really good looking guys already on the dance-floor? Check. A weird platform with flashy lights that kind of hurt your head and bore into your skull, but hey it's a party, parties are fun? Check, check, check.

The music was really loud, booming and caused our ears to ring well after midnight, but maybe it wasn't and I'm just not used to parties.

The theme was 'cops and robbers', but not many people went with it. You know those girls who manage to adapt a short skirt and a crop top to any dress-theme? And to any season? Yes, well, there were a ton of them in the crowd. There were also girls that had gone all out and had raided the costume-shop for a sexy yet still P-G cop outfit. The fact that they could find a sexy yet still P-G cop outfit in the little town I live in is beyond me...
And then there were the boys in the symbolic plaid and jeans. Ah, how we love the boys and their efforts.

source: joy divisions album cover

(P-S Thank you for your encouragements with my poetry... They actually do mean so much and they encourage me to keep writing.  As well as this poem.)

they were in love but it just didn't work

they were in love but it just didn't work out (there is more, you see)

she was strong

yes, a very strong woman, with a fire in her soul 

but when she was with him

she had sea water in her eyes,

she was pushed down by his conceited and hard ways

on the outside, she was stern 

on the outside, he was tall and blue-eyed
(isn't it always the eyes? they give nothing away, they make you forget)

but inside, once you dug a little bit,

and sat with her when the sun was setting 

she would open her heart

and let everything pour out: her light tumbling out

when you sat with him, he couldn't look at you in the eyes

his forehead-wrinkles were deep, they were the only thing that gave him away

and that wrinkle in the middle of his eyes, just above his nose

from 

frowning

always

frowning

but he can get you anywhere, he can, at any high class event, 

he can get you there, and he swims in fake luxury for

just an hour more

and he forgets the          bitter

so when she left, with me in tow

he gave me a paintbrush (just before the plane) and helped me paint a picture of him.

a self-portrait of sorts. maybe.

(any toy from target m'dear, have a bubble-bath, paint your nails red if you'd like)

and it took me a while. it took me a while to see past the glitter,

and into the truth.

a mish mash

I think it's time for a blog post.

Here are some mis-matched (mish mash, more like) of my thoughts at the moment:

- This excerpt from Susan Gilman's 'hypocrite in a poofy white dress':

'In my undying callowness and naked bid to be loved, I was endlessly reinventing my personality, nipping and tucking it here and there. [...] My personality, when I really thought about it, was a perpetual motion machine of self-invention.' This author amazes me as not only she is the just the right amount of honest and sarcastic but she writes with such ease, her words are perfectly chosen, her stories vivid and relatable. 

- I'm feeling grateful at the moment. Blessed, really. Because lately, I've actually pushed out of my comfort zone, and learnt to be more open about things. 

I've figured out that the more accepting and open one is, the more they will receive in return. For example, I've met this girl and she has stars in her eyes, and the universe in her soul. I feel like taking her hand, flipping it over, and looking at the fortune lines on her palm. i'm sure they would be different than the other fourteen year old's inner-hands, probably deeper, or thinner.

All I know is that girl is going to do great things in her life, and I am blessed to have known her.

Daehyun Kim (I see you and the sea of you) 

- I've strangely started forgetting about guys, and whether I was pretty to them, and constantly worrying about what they thought of me, and if I was giving them the wrong impression. 

I've come to the conclusion that I'm enough.

This might sound cheesy (I have the knack to sound cheesy) and to some maybe utterly crazy but I don't think I need a boyfriend or a small top that hugs my curves to be noticed. I'm me, and that should be enough.

Let's finish off with some organic, orange, hairy carrots that we bought at the Farmer's Market (just because) .

I hope you enjoy your week,
x
lotus

bless this mess

x listen (album :: "bless this mess", by lisa mitchell) x

the end of winter break ...

things I will miss

+ bubble-blowing in the garden

+ lazing around, doing not much at all

+ borrowing music from the library (yeah, I didn't know that was possible either!) such as lisa mitchell's beautiful album: bless this mess. / link above

+ grey skies, overcast weather giving me an excuse to read in the warmth

+ little every day adventures

+ the non-drama of the holidays (I'm not looking forward to the rush-rush-rush-no-don't-look-up-from-your-studies-to-enjoy-life-sorry-that's-not-tolerated)

+ going to the cinemas in the morning, as opposed to during nighttime - just because

+ impromptu baking or cooking at any hour

things I'm looking forward to

ok. no, guys I'm determined to make this work, positive attitude.

+ the new teachers, the new school-year. I'm also looking forward to the all the new things I'm going to learn and the new approaches I'll take.

What about you? What have been the highlights of your break?

Have a lovely weekend, friends.

xo

lts m

a blackout in the middle of winter.

  

“The purpose of life is to live it, to taste experience to the utmost, to reach out eagerly and without fear for newer and richer experience.” ― Eleanor Roosevelt 

At first, when night slowly fell, and we had absolutely no electricity, and it was the middle of winter, we were a little panicky. But after bringing out the candles, we brought out our books and our knitting and spent a couple of hours 'the-old-fashioned-way".

It was definitely an adventure, but I must say we were glad to have electricity back after a couple of hours of straining our eyes to read and bumping into things on our way to the toilet.

Have a lovely weekend folks (hopefully with one or two adventures, they're always good fun)
-lm

P-S I've finished all my exams and received my results. I am so happy my hard work has paid off and that I can relax (if only for a handful of weeks). I must say I feel empty without always having something to do...

P-P-S Yesterday was my first full-on party, and oh my, it was amazing. A post about the night will be coming soon, so stay tuned!