I think it's about time I admitted I've slowly been making the changeover to tumblr.

So here is my key:

http://towerofwords.tumblr.com/

be kind. a lot of what's on there (contrary to everything I now realise the internet is about) was not meant to be read. hopefully it is pretty.

This is so incredibly beautiful. A little vignette of their life together. I can't wait to move out, into my own space again (even though I love what I've done with my room). I really do look forward to being able to live that closely with someone one day too. I wonder if that could be you, one day.

Actual children’s answers to the question “what is love?”



“When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You just know that your name is safe in their mouth.” - Billy, age 4


“Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other.” - Karl, age 5


“Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French fries without making them give you any of theirs.” - Chrissy, age 6
“Love is what makes you smile when you’re tired.” - Terri, age 4


“Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK.” - Danny, age 7


“Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more. My Mommy and Daddy are like that. They look gross when they kiss.” - Emily, age 8


“Love is what’s in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen.” - Bobby, age 7


“If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend who you hate,” - Nikka, age 6


“Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it everyday.” - Noelle, age 7


“Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well.” - Tommy, age 6


“During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared. I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling. He was the only one doing that. I wasn’t scared anymore.” - Cindy, age 8


“My mommy loves me more than anybody. You don’t see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night.” - Clare, age 6


“Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken.” - Elaine, age 5


“Love is when Mommy sees Daddy smelly and sweaty and still says he is handsomer than Brad Pitt.” - Chris, age 7 


“Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day.” - Mary Ann, age 4


“I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones.” - Lauren, age 4


“When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn’t bend over and paint her toenails anymore. So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too. That’s love.” - Rebecca, age 8


“When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you.” - Karen, age 7


“You really shouldn’t say ‘I love you’ unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget.” - Jessica, age 8

 Ah, confusion, old friend. You never seem to leave my side for more than a moment.
Always mulling over the pros and cons and perpetually indecisive. What I want changes so rapidly, from yes to no, maybe and back again. I want, I want, I want. I remain. Stationary. One of these days, I'm going to get one of those dreams. It will be amazing. Tomorrow, perhaps.
I am going to follow through. If I spend the next 6 months finding one thing to do and do well, I will be completely satisfied.

This cd was another impulse buy (rather like my now exploding wardrobe). It's very pop-y and I can't get this song out of my head. I love it.


Perhaps I should make a new time capsule and fill it with all the dreams of tomorrow. See which ones I stick to. Which ones happen.
Why can't I have my cake and eat it too? Yes, I want you. And you. And you. I want a warehouse. I want to make clothes. I want to write books. I want to dance until I collapse with exhaustion and faint to the other side of happy. I want to be an amazing lawyer. I want to succeed. I want to sit in sunlight and drink in the world. I want to be qualified and recognised. I want to sculpt the streets with my breath. I want to be a rockstar. I want to make films. I want to read every book known to mankind. I want to only have to sleep for 2hours a day. I want to learn to make coffee. I want to go to London. I want to stay here and sleep for years. I want to care more about some people and less about others. I want to make jewelry. I want to put you before me and mine. I want to do the things I love. I want to find out what I love the best. I want to be the shifting air of change. I want to be reliable and stick to what I know. I want to understand you. I want to see you as a mystery. I want to care about the impacts of my actions (which I see, I do see). I want to feel you next to me. I want to eat ice cream for every meal. I want to run away in secret. I want to remember everything. I want to forget you exist, that I exist. I want to know what it means to be anyone else. I want to rule the world. I want to be in love. I want to climb trees. I want to build houses. I want to stage plays. I want to be able to stand still in one place. I want to run really fast and never stop. I want to eat all the cakes and drink all the coffee of all the cafes in Melbourne. I do what I want.

I am feeling a little bit insane at the moment. I think the lack of sleep and not knowing what day it is probably doesn't help much.

I can't think straight right now, so here is a list of all the things I have to say: ( the list... )</li></ol></div>

wow.

"The history of the twentieth century is the history of oil. Discuss. "

Suggestions? Comments? Entire essays?

Noticing a common theme? I find these lovely little pieces of peoples' love to hold onto, just as a reminder that I'm not the only person who thrills with the entangled capillaries and symmetrical beating of stitched-together ventricles, the collapse of limbs into one self and the merging of words, thoughts, tongues and hollow eyes filing with someone else's presence.


I was waiting. I'm still not sure what for.
But I'm not waiting any more. I'm settled. I'm rolling on. I'm finding some thread of something to focus on.
I'm refusing to vest all my hope in other people. Instead, I've remembered myself.

Also: friends are the best. They calmed me down after I had a massive panic about possibly having to pay RMIT for a course I'm not doing (still not resolved as of yet). Gabi gave me two tickets to Katie Noonan, so I got to have dinner with Ainsley, Flo & Lin, then see the show with Ains and get drinks apres with she and Max. Way to make my day.

so despite the fact that people suck...they're also pretty awesome. sometimes. mostly. almost never. nearly always.

 He is so fucking beautiful. Can I keep him?


We went bowling last night. Best fun I've had in a long time. Limbs flying, pins still standing, talking into the quiet hours of the night. Cookies, baked fresh that morning. Flight of the Concords. Snoring shapes all through my little happy house.

I found my joy again. I'm not sure how or why but once more I don't need anyone else to quantify it. I'm untouchable. I'm loveable. I'm laughable. I'm free again.

I want to keep him. I'm not sure I know how.

 He can't spell.

I like the extra strength and independence I've discovered, recently. I don't like that this is becoming extreme, that I'm heading back to the isolated Izzy that supports everyone else in an effort to forget her own thoughts. That covers every action with a counter-action so as to remain a mystery and a puzzle. That makes people fall in love with her so she can turn them away. That can't stand the idea of being close to anyone. ever. again. That holds up a facade, different though it may be, so that the underneath might melt away and disappear. We all do it though, don't we? Hold up a mask in front of our face, that says what we want the rest of the world to hear. The special people are the ones that can see through it.

I'm so careful and considered about what I say now. I'm creating a persona, gradually. All these new people can judge me instantly with the few facts available to them. They don't say anything about who I really am but these small fragments of a person, the person I project to the world, the person I pretend to be, are enough to solidify friendships and create a perfect persona that people can build upon within their own imaginations. Do you really know me at all? Does it even matter? Probably not.

I want to spread happy like butter, to everyone and anyone around me. I want to give people hope. I want to show them they still know how to imagine, help them rekindle their youthful idealism and make them believe that anything is possible again. I want to show people that walks in the rain and true love and pancakes are worth valuing, more than anything else in the world. I want to realise and remember every day why I surround myself with beautiful, crazy, intelligent fragile beings.

I'm not who I've been pretending to be, these past few months. The trouble is, I'm becoming this other person I'm not sure I like. And I don't know how to stop it.

It feels like I'm drowning again. In the past. In the future. The now is not solid.

I am doing Arts-Law at Monash. I just enrolled.

and in regard to the tangled web I can't seem to help weaving....I don't know what to say. eeep.
perhaps I'll be a hermit. that might just work.

 ( This was fun... )

 Tom Stoppard is a genius. I love my grandparents.

I cut my toe on a barbed wire fence.
I found out adrenaline makes me laugh uncontrollably and happens to be associated with select people and select memories, all of which come flooding back each time I discover something newly exhilarating.

I don't know how to tell vous I actually don't give a damn and I'm just not that interested.
I don't know how to tell tu that I'd really quite like it if you joined one of my adventures so I could write you into the pages of this book.

I went and looked at student accommodation today. It sucked. Sharehouses are the way to go.

I need to learn how to drive. Get that job. Do some stuff.
The more I say it, the truer it becomes.

Something is missing. But so much else is found.

 I am a cranky cat. I wonder what kind of smile the cheshire cat had, really. A grudging grimace? The smirk of the cat that's licked the cream? A dazed and euphoric nostalgic-throwback smile? who knows. I wonder what kind of smile I have. who knows.

Joanna Newsom makes everything lovely. EVERYTHING.
There is a Joe (mine, not Flo's). There is still James Dean.
I'm still here. Waiting and running and jumping and swinging and still here.

Where are you in the world? How's the view?

I think it might be a marmalade smile.
I love my friends. I love my caravan. Immah go watch Requiem for a Dream.

 I didn't sleep last night. I rode my bike to the Vic Market at 4am and had breakfast with the boys after work. Also,  I now have a rabbit. She's running around on the caravan floor trying to decide whether to hide in the box or explore some more. Her name is Lady Marmalade and she is the sweetest, most timid yet curious gorgeous little thing you've ever seen!
However, although I swindled Luke into promising to look after her for the 2 weeks I'm going to Bali very soon, a back-up plan would be ace. Anyone reckon they can handle my bunny for 2 weeks without getting her eaten? Seriously. 2 whole weeks of adoring a little fluffy thing. You even get to give it back after you get sick of it!

I met James Dean. Or possibly Chris Isaak.
This will be interesting. I'll keep you posted.
Alice Springs tomorrow! 6am wake-up! Yay!