Last night was the most utterly wrecked I think I have ever felt without just cause.

I did my best at doing nothing, which for me means to read. I read a lot. I started The Day of the Triffids – a sci-fi that is insanely popular (quite old) by John Wynham I think. I’ve read one his, the Midwich Cuckoo’s they are beautifully strange. I made it to chapter 3, fell asleep, woke up, read another chapter then gave up. I’m not kidding the book is really good, I just did not have any energy.

I got Dad to dig up The Shaping of Things to Come to inspire my lethargic self. I’ve wanted to read it for ages. I couldn’t concentrate. So I sat there aimlessly on my beanbag then moved out ot the hammock, I nearly fell asleep again although the dog woke me with periodic if not constant barkings.

By 6pm I had stumbled through dinner (yes the others have returned so I didn’t have to cook) while doing the normal hide it if you are feeling crap thing. Sat infront of the TV as it was far too light to sleep. Watched I Capture the Castle again with the others. I don’t usually bother watching movies twice, but it was sitting and passively observing.

Sleep was interesting. I was stuffed, but couldn’t sleep. Lay there for ages. Sat up on the edge of my bed in the dark. Got up when Emily left the outside light on. Yelled at her and went out and turned it off.

I could blame it on having been sick – whatever that was but part of it is to do I think with a conversation I had with someone the other night. Emotionally draining. I guess the thing is less that I am sad or whatever about it all, but more the fact that I have utterly no idea what to think and therefore do not know how to feel.

I am unsure and I’m trying to work out why it’s bothering me so much because I could very well remove myself at least a step or two away from the whole thing. I am unsure.

It took me several hours to sleep which made no sense as I was physically exhausted.


God still does miracles.


So this afternoon comes and I get another phone call. Sam was laughing at me as I had about 5 wrong numbers during the time she stayed.

It turns out to be Serene. Their family (the Chua’s) moved back to Malaysia about a year ago. Hannah was best friends with Rachel. I knew Eugene a bit as he was in my devo group when I was in yr.12, a year younger than me I think, nice guy. (Eugene is a very cool name for asian guys and utterly daggy on anglo’s, why is that so?)

Anway. She finds out mum isn’t there and so decides to ask me to help her out. Apparently some kid from MECS (school) has recently died in a car crash. I had absolutely no idea about it, so I’m making facial questions and trying to find out the story from Sam in the middle of the conversation. She wants to know what Aussies do (they were only over here for two years I think) for funerals. What to send. A wreath, flowers…

I was half at a loss. The only person close enough for me to attend their funeral that has died was my Opa quite a few years now and I was overseas then, so missed it anyway. I realised she was asking because of cultural differences (duh!) and so did my best to explain that probably the best thing, seeing as it wasn’t someone hugely close to them that she should probably just send a card. “Should I put money in it to help with the funeral?”, “Um no, just a card I think”.

Australians treat death will an odd disrespect. We do not I think, grieve properly. We don’t deal with it properly. We perhaps acknowledge it for a very short point in time and then stuff it under the verandah while we have a BBQ on top.

We don’t celebrate death very well either. Christians should view death with greater hmm.. how to say this without saying like life is not worth every breath. anticipation?… no thats’ not quite right. It’s a good thing to celebrate someone’s life.

We should also celebrate people’s lives more when they are living, then they are at least around to know how much we appreciate them.

Aboriginal cultures have this set mourning thing. They wail, they cry, they recognise the loss publically. Together they bear the weight and so (I think) lessen the load, draw the hurt into the open and so well, deal with it effectively. I’m pretty sure Solomon Islanders are much the same.

Funeral Parlours are such ugly places. I’ve never been in one, and hope I don’t have to (dead or alive) hearses are black, limos and pointless. Funeral flowers are ugly. Flowers belong in gardens or at weddings. Their beauty is a pitiful mask. I don’t see a huge problem with them, but yeah mm they have their place excess is not part of it, if used rightly it’s fine.

I was thinking the other day about if I had only a short while to live how I would live differently. I guess it genuinely struck me (rather than just the general concept) I wish I had written some stuff down as it was a bit (just a bit) motivating. I’ll have to think about it a bit more.

Meanwhile. Living life as God wants me to is the closest I can get to explaining that, and for each of us I think that is slightly different.


I like it how weather often matches your mood. Or perhaps it influences it. It can’t make it’s mind up today, it is confused, cloudy, foggy, warm, sunny, humid, blue skied, grey clouded, wet, dry, muggy, windy, still.

Sam stayed here last night. We spent $18 between us on 6 dvd’s. Have to love small town crappy video shop rental. We stayed up late for I Capture the Castle (which lived up to the book thank goodness), Mullet (I liked it because it was random, arthousey, pointless in a kind of way, it did get a little boring – I don’t think Sam liked it much), Raise Your Voice (The dud of the lot, we got it to have a chickflick no-brainer it hardly even qualified for that. Pathetic), and Pieces of April (dumbfoundingly good, eccentric and brilliant).

I made dinner before we started. Gnocchi. It was okay but I had no appetite again – a fall back from being sick. The idea of food still doesn’t thrill me much.

The phone woke me, and I got up groggily without bothering to even put my glasses on. My Grandma, she’d heard I was sick somehow. I love her to bits, but sometimes sleep is nicer (yes lets say that the cruel way). She asked if I had worked yesterday. I was that tired I couldn’t remember or even process what she’d said. I figured it was about 8 or 9am so told her I’d just woken up. Managed and answer and fell back in bed with a grunted good morning to Sam. The clock said 10:37am.

Sat down and watched the last two movies. A Girl with a Pearl Earing it was fairly good and Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind how to describe that?


How badly that movie stuffed with my mind. How facinating. How frustrating. How good. How good. Movies – the stranger the better.

I again feel not entirely like running a marathon, I do not know if I will bother with dinner.

People are confusing me today. I am confusing me today. Life feels like a movie. I am in an incredibally sarcastic, petulant mood.



I am sad and I want to write, frustrated because my computer is being fifxed and typing is easier on your hands.

I think if you transported me back to the Middle Ages I woudl class very well as a flagellant.

This evening I got to email and find one from Peta about Lauren and hwo she had a baby boy on Wednesday. That baby is dead. Potters syndrome – no kidneys. I do not know Lauren or Ed very well and I haven’t kept up with Pete as much as I could’ve but I’m sitting in a smoky haze of disappointment and using horrible descriptions to describe it.

Just before dinner (I think, maybe it was after) Hannah tells me about something that does in a way directly concern one of my good friends. I am sad again for him and how that might make him hurt. Where does it leave me to help? Furthermore, I do not know if he knows yet and I’d rather not be the one to break the news.

And the flagellant reference? I consider eating food I hate and doing things I don’t like when I’m in a bad mood. A form of self punishment? Doing the dishes is a fanatstic compliment to a depressed mindset.

I am now officially a uni student! Enrollment was fairly painless. Took about an hour. It turns out I’m supposedly majoring in photography. I might change that yet. I’m trying to work out how I can get some writing in there as you either do it all online (which they don’t recommend for first years) or you have to take two subjects because of prerequisites. Writing and the Law doesn’t thrill me.

Jess and I went to see a movie after we were done at Deakin. Broken Flowers was the first. Very slow, art housey, utterly peculiar film wich I don’t think I would have liked had the ending been different. The ending however, left you hanging marvellously with no triump (clearly evident), no resolution. I found this smile creep into my mouth when the credits slid up. I will not go out of my way to see it again.

We then decided (as we had loads of time – and Jess gets movies free as she works at Village which mean I got in free also) on one more. The Family Stone, which was surprisingly quite good. Sarah Jessica Parker annoys me and I don’t think she’s pretty at all contray to certain character’s opinions – she’s got a horse face (so says Laura). The general idea of the movie was alright, it was quite funny and the romantic bit of a romantic comedy was not quite swallowed in tears of pink and white dog fur.

I read a book last night. All of it. The Blessing by Gary Smalley and John Trent. Not too bad. Not all of it was very applicable, but it did get me thinking.

The components of ‘The Blessing’ ie: meaningfully loving others, extended beyond teh words and time factor (surprise surprise) and there aws a large segment on meaningful touch.

I am in no way a huggy kind of person and how I shy away from touch highlights that further. According to somethign my Dad (?) said once, is that I used to fine and then one day I just changed my mind about the whole thing (Would’ve been around the 6-7 age) that is paraphrasing a lot but yes, Rebecca is not touch inclined.

Despite being overtly standoffish – although I have been worn down a lot these past few years there are increasingly frequent times when a touch (be it a hug or…) would be incredibally helpful, might assist in filling a part of me that is lacking.

I was reflecting on the touch thing in my family and how hugs etc. (particularly where most of us are concerned) are reserved for birthdays, goodbyes, hellos (after a significant time away), maybe Christmas or some achievement eg. finishing school.

Generally speaking, words (pardon the pun) are what I find more meaningful, but there is this funny void.

I can remember quite a few months ago Emily (?) came up and touched me on the shoulder for a more prolonged time than just a sibling whack. I think I started/double took – however you wish to say it.

The book was talking about touch as a meaningful method of communication. I do not know how I can impliment this into my family life – but as God you seem to be bringing up the challenge of getting/letting myself closer to some of the lately maybe you’ve got something in mind. Some ideas/cirucmstances taht will help me to get more used to the fact that you want me to forget about comfortable and actually go out of my way to change a few things.

I remember what Miss Kirsty (see Critical Incidents timeline) and that ‘talking to’ did to me. How I had to hug my little sister more. A way of respecting, loving her as my attitude was so screwy and bossy. She shocked me in to doign something with her wise, timely, shameing, caring words. I cannot forget that.

The meaningful touch thing goes further though. What about friends? Sure some are perfectly okay to hug or whatever. But for instance, male friends by whom you do not want to give the wrong impression or are simply not comfortable about it (the not comfortable often goes for me as well).

How can you bring meaningful touch into a strictly friendship relationship to I guess, improve and in a sense meet that person beyond just works, a look, a smile, your time?

Some people throw no walls up about this but I know people who do when it comes to touch because I am one of them.

We thrive off being loved and loving. Why limit ourselves to soley with what is only comfortable if that is not loving them in the most complete way possible.

How important is it really anyway?