Monday, December 31, 2012

Fin

So this is the end.

End of the year.
End of my high school life.
And end of this blog.

It saddens me deeply to say but I'm saying byebye to my baby lauratoailoa.blogspot.com.

It's not that I want a fresh start... I kinda like being able to store my posts since 2010.

But in about four years time, I want to maybe be a teacher. Idk, it's a possibility. And keeping that possibility in mind, I don't want my future students to be able to keep track of my life and deepest thoughts.

I also don't want my future employers to be able to find me so easily. Laura Toailoa isn't exactly the most anonymous of blog titles.

However, I won't delete this blog - but it shall remain a time capsule of teenage, high school me. I just hope adult me doesn't suffer because of what now-me wrote on this beloved blog.

So, I'm starting up another blog somewhere is the blogosphere and if ya wanna know where, send me an email at lauratoailoa@hotmail.com to ask :) I've met some pretty cool people through this blog and I wanna take you with me... I just wanna leave behind the nosey general public. lol

So yeah, byebye sometimes readers. To my faithful readers, I'm sure you'll get a hand on my new blog so don't fret.

I can't believe I'm really doing this... I've thought about it for a few months and now I'm really properly doing it... woah... change, I can handle you!

Good day :)

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

Privilege

I am privileged.

No, I'm not a middle-upper class Caucasian heterosexual male but I have a lot of other privileges.

I'm somewhat of a thinker. I love pondering and musing and questioning. I love thinking about our subconscious behaviour, social constructions, cultural differences, the emotional effects of puberty, the meaning behind the tone of voice, amount of eye contact or choice of words. I love identifying recurring patterns in human behaviour and how often people think they're the exception to the pattern - yet that very thought fits into the mold. I like to think about my countless scenarios of unrequited love and how accurate movies are at depicting real life.

I've devoted many hours to thinking and talking about, writing down and typing up my thoughts. Many many hours. The amount of hours of a privileged person. You see, I've never worked a day in my life. I go to school, stress over schoolwork and go on the internet.

That's privilege number one - not having to work. Both mum and dad work and I got pocket money - something unheard of in my family. I've never earned money I've owned. I'm their daughter and that fact got me money. That's privilege I say. My parents are no billionaires, and yet. So not having to slave away for mula, I've had a lot of free time to myself. I know some people from school who work straight after school and during weekends - a life I've never had to experience. So I was free to think. And think. And think. I didn't have to worry about bills, rent or trying to help out in the family affairs. I was just a free bird. And that's privilege.

Privilege number two - being child number 6 out of 7. Being so far down the line meant I was not the child that responsibility was thrust upon. That was given to my poor older sisters. They looked after me, paid for a lot of my leisure activities and always did chores and stuff like that. I was babied. Even now that I'm technically an adult, I'm still very much their little sister. They look out for me constantly - even when they're living far away. I was never pressured or burdened with major older sister responsibilities. I have one younger sister, but we just hang out and ch-chill. I'm rarely her caregiver like my sisters were, and are, for me.

Privilege number three - internet access at home. This is one many teenagers I know experience, but that does not make a difference. Thanks to the wireless broadband at home, I've been able to spend hours writing and reading other people's philosophical and sociological arguments and observations. Thus, enabling me to develop my own.

There are many many more I'm sure but I'm figuring this post is getting a bit lengthy and extremely babbly. I apologise for that - I feel like it's been ages since I've last posted so I'm just unleashing my fingers to dance around the keyboard as much as possible while I'm at an internet cafe.

I just want to add one last note, I hope I didn't come off braggy or show-offy. That was not my intention at all. I just wanted to credit the fact that something a lot of people compliment me on (which is my ability to make interesting observations, conclusions, comments and ideas) is not due to me alone. I'm not able to devote so much time and energy into it (and trust me, I do) if it wasn't for loads of other factors in and around my life that enable me to live the privileged life I do.

And I'm extremely grateful for it. Thank you God for the immense blessings you provide. Thank you family for raising me to be as well off as I am. Thank you friends who let me spill me cray cray thinking spree on them. Thank you everyone who's ever been part of my life because consiously or subconsiously, you've helped make me who I am today.

Okay, this blog is waaay too long and unstructured and all over the place - I'll try to be better next post. Thank you for reading this far. Thank you reader, for making me feel like my thoughts are valid because you take the time out of your life to peruse through them.

(That was three paragraphs of "one last note". I'm quite bad at this... haha)

Bye for now :)

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

High School

Was nothing like I expected. I dreamed of lockers, cafeterias how fun it must be to have multiple teachers. I dreamed of juicy gossip and loads of drama.

Turns out high school was nothing like Mean Girls, 10 Things I Hate About You and every other American teen movie I've seen. Well, maybe it is in America...

I had zero exciting drama and no lockers. I had friends who I never ever fought with and the teachers weren't out to get me. I was never absolutely hated and not adored by all... pretty average really. I was never "fresh gossip" and most of the time... it never reached my ears so I knew little to none about my fellow peers.

The only thing I seriously stressed, panicked over and lost sleep to was... the schoolwork. Which is weird because that's what the characters I watch NEVER talk about. Or they only mention it slightly but proceed onto to mawling each other faces with saliva... or so, that's what it looks like.

I never felt pressured to drink, smoke or have sex. Some people around me did it, but I always felt like they were merely suggesting it but didn't care if I didn't. Live and let live.

School. Was. Stressful. I worried too much about making my work perfect and whether or not the teacher will approve instead of trying to impress myself with the best I could do.

Just about everyone I met were friendly to me. Those who weren't, were soon forgotten - because I don't remember anybody who was rude or mean but surely not 100% of people I met were nice to me...

I loved nearly all my teachers. I am lucky.

It's been a good five years with LOOOOADS of memories. Many we can look back and laugh at. Thank you all for the good times.

Have fun being adults everyone! :)
"Adult" is not a synonym for boring and does not mean you've got it all figured out.
It just means if you get arrested... you go to real jail.

Goodnight :)

Thursday, November 29, 2012

We Don't Own Celebrities

So one thing on the internet that gets me legitimately enraged is seeing people get angry at celebrities for not being the people they think the famous person should be. They get mad that their idols change, grow up and live their lives. WHAT THE DKSFJCHLDKUCHDKSC! It's just one thing I can't understand. My lack of empathy about this just makes me angry. Lack of understanding tends to do that. Therefore, I allow myself to get angry.

So I was scrolling through Miley Cyrus' Instagram photos and every. single. one. of them had idiotic rude comments - why are people so mean to people they don't know?! WHAT THE FREAK SOCIETY?!?! People are STILL going on about Hannah Montana days... she's 20 people, not 16 anymore. Also, they're devastated about her cutting off her hair. SRSLY?! They're all, "oh... it was better before... why did you go and do that for... FAKE... that's ugly now..." That's mean. Why would you say that to someone you don't know? We. Don't. Know. Her.

We don't any celebrity really. Who we see is not their complete personality - in some cases, it's none of their personality. Sometimes they pretend to be more charismatic and friendly because they need to be. Of course they're smiling at premieres and willing to take photos - they gots to promote their art. They're proud of their work and are glad so many people like it. They're appreciative. They don't love their fans. Well, not the love we're looking for. They're extremely grateful and know they're nothing with us. They love what you do for them, for allowing them to live their dream job and make money off it to be well off. But they don't personally love you for who you are - because they don't know you. And we don't know them. 

And they don't owe us anything. Nothing. They don't dream of being an actors so they can be a role model. They want to act. Musicians want their music to be listened to and loved and maybe understood - they don't want people to follow them around and take photos of their everyday lives. Sure, there are those who welcome that kind of attention - but there are LOADS more who don't. 

Why do we ask these famous artists to be more than artists to us? Why do we demand them to be the best of humanity? Why do we pressure them to be everything we're not? Why do expect explanations and justifications from them for their life choices? These famous people are regarded less and less for their profession and more and more about their relationship status, aesthetics and morality. They are not great philosophers or moral teachers. They're just everyday, sometimes nasty, sometimes selfless, sometimes ugly, sometimes generous, sometimes depressed, sometimes glamourous, sometimes lonely, sometimes everything people. Like us, Yeah they live in more luxury than most of us - but that doesn't mean they're better people. It shouldn't mean they have to be.  

Okay, now that that's out of my system, I'm much more calm.

Good night :)

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

My Soul, Basically

I have so many things I want to say but I don't know what order write them in. Chronologically, in order of coolness, alphabetically, randomly... I don't know whether to dedicate a post for each thing to allow me to elaborate and discuss and clarify or if I want to keep it as raw and ambiguous as possible. I don't know if it's even worth sharing. I just want to write ALL the things.

I want to write about deep issues that our society and myself personally face but I don't want to rush it and not do it justice.

I want to write short anecdotes but I worry it might not be funny.

I want to post something because I hate it when my most recent post is not recent at all. But I don't want to post any old thing because then my most recent post will be crappy and I'll be embarrassed every time I check my blog for comments (which is incredibly frequently).

I have all these fears of not blogging right. I'm always scared someone's gonna tell me I'm not good at it and I should make the world a better place by stopping. I have this immense insecurity that's very irrational. It's like trying to convince that 55kg girl that NO SHE'S NOT FAT. You have logic on your side, but they got crazy. And crazy always wins.

I have this fear but I don't want it to paralyse me. I don't want to become so scared that I stop writing. Because really, I think this is my only real passion in life - writing. Although what I write isn't critically acclaimmed column writing - it has a bit of soul etched in every post. I impart a bit of myself every time I bang this keyboard. Like my tagline (and Mitchie Torres) says, this is real, this is me.

And I know who I am cannot be solely defined in what I write - but there's certainly a chunk of me in here. 

Ooh, I just thought of a blog post about celebrities... time to draft on paper so I minimise the amount of wrong,

Goodnight :)

Thursday, November 15, 2012

Open Letter: Special Someone

Dear special someone, (and no, not that kind of special, so you sisters can just calm down).

I'll rephrase that,

Dear person who is very special even though you don't believe it (I think)

You read my blog more often than I think (even though I always doubt it).
Your friendship means a lot more to me than you think, which may kinda creep you out because we're not like, BFF's or anything but I really appreciate how strong our thread of a bond is.
You're quite intelligent though you protest every time I tell you. You're really smart, and I hope you find a way to use that brain of yours in your future endeavours. Like Einstein said, everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid. You're not stupid. You probably already know that but it doesn't hurt to hear it again, right? :)
You make me laugh - always. Especially when I don't want to - that is a rare gift my friend. I hope you harness it in future. Although, I hope people appreciate your humour as I do. It's a hit and miss quality really, you either love it or you hate it. I certainly love it.
I'm really trying to compliment you without sounding patronising. Please know that I write this as an admirer not as a congratulator standing on higher ground.
I wish we were better friends - and I've had many years of opportunity - but alas, I did not try. I wish I knew you better so my words would have more credibility in your eyes.
I wish I had the bravery to tell this to your face.
But, like I was many years ago, I'm still scared you'd just laugh in my face and reject these words.
So, like the coward I am, I chose the safer road - an ambiguous letter intended for an unknown recipient published for the world to see, hoping you'd find it.

But I hope you know it's for you.

With sincerity,
Tui.

Monday, November 12, 2012

Marijuana Is Not Bad

Marijuana has usefulness - to help people with sucky things in life like multiple sclerosis, alzheimers, breast cancer and HIV. However, for people who don't need it other than to get a fix end up ruining their brains and lives because it's so addictive (so I've heard, I've never tried the stuff). It's expensive and since it's not sold commercially, no one's trying to lower their prices to get the most customers. 

The point is, marijuana itself is not innately bad. It didn't ASK to be used recreationally. No. That was our doing - human tampering that ruined it all. Now it can't be legalised very easily because some awesome people went ahead and spoiled it for the rest of us who might actually need it.

The thing is, no thing, no physical object is innately bad. It's just a tool. Everything God and man made are tools. Things for us to use. It's up to us how "good" or "bad" something CAN be.

Fire is a perfect example of this. It cooks food, provides us with warmth and the early sources of light. Although, it does burn and sometimes burns down houses and cities. But it's not fire's faults or goodness that define it. It's only fair to judge it's "goodness" on a case-by-case basis. Marijuana: use it to increase appetite for HIV patients: good. Use it to feel good because nothing else in your life does: probably not good.

Everything in our lives are tools - it's up to us to give it it's value. Internet to access a worldwide network of knowledge and experiences: good. Using it to find vulnerable children for sexual gratification: not so good.

Sugar - need lot's of energy because you expect to undergo a lot of physical or mental exertion: okay. A third piece of cake: not okay. Unless you just got dumped, then honey, take the whole damn cake. 

The point is, we shouldn't be so quick to categorise things, physical things, into "good" and "bad". Because things are just things. We make them good or bad. We're the problem, not the things.

Goodnight :)

Saturday, November 10, 2012

Hopeful Romantic

Like most other 18 year old girls, I sometimes often think about who my future long term significant other will be and how we'll be and what we'd do blah blah blah cheesy things.

I watch movies and observe couples around me (like a creepy stalker) and make mental notes of what I want that other people have and things I definitely don't want at all. I think about decisions I would and would not make. I see grand public gestures and private intimate moments and have decided I want lots of both.

I think of the hugs and the kisses and the (SLOW) strolls on the beach (of Samoa hopefully) and of the DVD nights of closeness and popcorn, I think of the dressing up and going out dancing, I think of spontaneous outings that was prepared (so it'll only be spontaneous for me. haha) which would surprise me mostly because I'd think he's so useless at planning and preparation and the fact that he tried extra hard to pull it off would be admirable. 

But most of all, I think about the long winded conversations about philosophy and sociology and why things are. I think about how he'd challenge my ideas and rebut things I'm so sure of. I think of how we'd better each other; we'd speak our mind about every issue and unlike annoying internet people, we'd be open-minded and ALWAYS be willing to hear the other side out - whether it be about abortion, sexuality or whether smooth or crunchy peanut butter is better (smooth, of course). 

But I do think that there's someone out there that will crush my predetermined list of ideals with their overpowering awesomeness. Best case scenario.

But lastly, I think about how I need to be thinking about my biology exam coming up on Tuesday.
Ia, uma i ga lou fia kaukalaikiki ae alu fai sou meaoga. Okay.

Shawty




I - individualistic. you are unapoligetically you. you do what you believe in. pretty admirable esp cos we're like teens - at the peak of our conformity-ness-ish-stage.

M - meticulous. everything you care about is paid the closest attention to ensure it happens as right as possible. you care a lot. it's funny, cute and OTT most of the time - but it's cool. somebody's got to be.

M - merriment. we always have good, big, laughs that give us sore bellies, red faces and leave us gasping for air. good, good times. very good. good. good.

Y - yolo. cos we beez so yolo up in hurr wit all our drinking and partaaaaaying.



so like, haaaaaapy burfday Immy! :)

Monday, October 29, 2012

Adulthood, Miscommunication, Ideas

My urge to write occurs spontaeneously - and it rarely hits when I'm sitting at a computer. Thus, I feel less and less inspired to write blog posts. However, when it DOES hit, I write it down on a piece of paper or type it on my phone for reference for when I DO come to a computer. I shall type them out for you :)

Adulthood
When I was a little girl, I always wanted thought adults were these divine beings that knew everything there was to know and did everything right. They never cried cos they're never scared or sad about anything. They were perfect. I was so excited to grow up because I couldn't for the day to leave behind my peasant childhood cloak and bask in glorious adulthood or perfection and money. So it turns out that's not actually the reality of it all. They're imperfect creatures who are still finding their feet day to day. Damn. So I've learnt that be a noun-grownup, you have to verb-grow-up. Adulthood is not something that happens to you, it's something that happens with you.

Less Is More
Something I strive to minimise in my life is miscommunication. Thus, I have this tendency to try and explain myself - all. the. time. I aim to ensure the other person understands as much as possible about what I try to say. I hate hate hate watching movies where things go wrong because there was miscommunication or fail to deliver a message then everything gets blown out of proportion (frickin Romeo and Juliet). So I talk and talk and talk until I've exhausted my message with clarification. But more often than not, my act of service is met with awkwardness rather than appreciation. They find it amusing rather than helpful. So maybe I should just back of a little, maybe less is more.

Talking
When I have ideas mulling around my head, I always want someone there with me so I can discuss said ideas and bounce off each other so my ideas develop, evolve, alter or comfirmed. But my two situations usually are: a) there's no one around so I just write it on here with no second opinion and b) my ideas just get met with looks because it's not something anyone else cares about. This makes me feel a) supreior and b) lonely - both of which I know in my head is not true but it's what I feel in my heart.

And those are some of the contents of my notebook of thoughts.
Till next time,
don't forget to be awesome.

Sunday, October 21, 2012

Dreams

Here are two things I would love to do more of but am not prioritising at the moment but would be, like, dreams come true. Then again, life's not a wish-granting-factory. Nevertheless...

Dancing. I love dancing. It would be ah-mah-zing to take lessons and be semi-legit. It's a deep passionate desire that I'm embarrassed and too scared to explore. 

Photography. I looooove taking photos. Even with our meh-quality 10 megapixel camera that so easily takes blurry photos and I have to rubberband the thing to hold it together and stick a piece of paper inside to hold the memory card in place - I still loooove taking photos. I love capturing moments and experiences to store for life. I'm a hoarder you see, and I looove hoarding memories. I even take advantage of my cellphone's budget 2 megapixel weird coloured camera. I just love taking photos. One day I'll be able to afford one of those pretentious massive black ones that allow you to take a billion photos per second.

Monday, October 8, 2012

Maxx Sucks

Sometimes I blog on-the-go, on paper, with a pen. Woah, pre-historical tools!! I know, so a-mah-zing. Here's one of them, written at this random fast-food place called McDonalds, idk if you've heard of it... oh well, enjoy :)

Gosh I'm so cold and upset. Waiting at that bloody bustop for 17 minutes enduring the wind and cold for what - NOTHING. It said "due" on that stupid sign and nothing came. It was like that for what felt like a lifetime. The bus came and it said North Something (not actually "something" but you know what I mean...) instead of the usual 455 so it wasn't my bus (duh) but I was SO excited when I saw it from afar that I jumped out of my seat. Literally. Bloody shaming...
Then the "due" was replaced by an ugly "24". Arrrrgh dub-tee-eff Max?!?!
So I got frustrated and came to McDonalds  to pay for an overpriced (but still yummy) Hazelnut Mochaccino and chocolate croissant from the cafe half of McDonalds. Which is getting cold because I'm writing and not consuming them... woops. I would've ordered from the actual fast-food menu because as angry as I was, I still was in the right mind not to ruin my lipstick...
Oh, and to top it all off - people eating non-cafe food are sitting in the cafe section of the restaurant (you know, quiet, small tables, comfy chairs) so I'm stuck in the fast-food section with loud children and angry parents.
This is totally killing my post-Anna-and-the-French-Kiss buzz. Ugh.

Okay, so that's all I wrote at the McDonalds. I should add though, Anna and the French Kiss is a book I'd just finished reading at the library and I was still in the high of it all but then all this happened. However, this story does have a happy ending. My amazing cousin, Lea, came and picked me up and we hung out and did some window shopping (and bought confectionary goodies). She's pretty much my hero. Yep.

Thank you for enduring my first-world-problem blog and hopefully you don't think any less of me - I'm only human! lol

Good night :)


Thursday, October 4, 2012

Books Give Me Feelings

Sometimes, I hate it when my book characters are given faces of celebrities. (Not always but) I have these misplaced feelings of ownership and anyone who tries to define their aesthetics should be damned.

Sometimes I laugh, gasp and cry with my fictional characters. Sometimes I forget I'm in public during these reactions. Always I get embarassed.

Sometimes I hate that these people don't exist in the physical world and aren't my closest friends.

Sometimes I have all the feels of the world that I can't spekjfsaehcnjavcndjuerafcdkjnhvcnasd

Sometimes I just want the whole world to read it so they understand.

But other times, I feel selfish like it's my own secret and no one else should be in on it else they'd ruin it.

Dear every fictional character I've had a crush on - can you have a talk to all the real life guys I know please and teach them a thing or two?

I wish books were cheap in New Zealand - it sucks watching people from the UK and USA getting them cheap as....

First world problems? lol

Good night :)

Sunday, September 23, 2012

Being Angry

I'm quite an angry person. And I guess that statement doesn't seem very earth-shockingly groundbreaking seeing as I AM a teenager and I've heard that "emo-ness" and the feeling of anxiety, lonliness and anger are common among my people and fades once our hormones have settled and our frontal lobe has developed and all that. So I guess I better write this down so adult-me can see how 17-year-old-me thought about life - and particularly, anger.

I get extremely angry on a fairly regular basis. Like red-hot, cussing, throw-things type of angry. Except, all this anger is internalised. So although I get quite hot in the face, I swear really loudly in my head (or mumble it under my breath when no one is around) and only imagine throwing things because I don't like sudden loud noises. I never physically take out my anger by assalting other human beings so my violent streak is a kind of secret - except to maybe my family who always see when I'm in a foul mood (although, I don't expect they know just how foul my thoughts get).

I bottle my anger because frankly, I don't know what to do with it. I don't want to hurt others' feelings by voicing them just to get things off MY chest - it's healthy - but seems kinda selfish. I don't want my burden to be lightened at the expense of loading it onto someone else. Also, you can't take words back and in my moments of extreme anger - I fear I won't be able to filter my words and I'll say too much... so better to say nothing at all than to cause collateral that I'll later have to clean up because of my carelessness.

If it gets too much, it all comes out in tears but apart from that - I don't really have an outlet... apart from writing that is... but even then, it's like a censored, watered down version of what I really feel. 

Also, that thing about holding in your anger for so long, is that it becomes on big pile of resentment and bitterness that I can't even separate present causes from past grudges. I get really upset about something and I wonder if it really is that one thing that's bothering me or just one of the many... 

Because if these events were independent of each other - it would seem quite petty to get so uncontrollably angry about something that others simply brush off. But that's not how life works and events in our lives are rarely mutually exclusive. Everything that happens to us piles on, on top of one another. So when you're reaching your limit - anything minute and trivial could be (or rather, seem like) the end of the world.

The thing is, when I sleep on it, my anger goes away. I wake up totally fine. But not that healthy I've-moved-on-from-it fine. More like the pushed-under-the-rug-in-denial fine. Because I haven't really forgiven, I've just stopped thinking about it. I've stopped caring. I don't wanna deal with it because I don't feel the hurt, anger and frustration. I don't feel anything. So I just carry on with my day not looking back.

Until it happens again. Until the same thing that pissed me off the first time resurfaces. Then that evil feelings returns - with a vengence. Determined to better the anger from last time. All this time I thought my anger disappear. But it was just lying there in the shadows, waiting, growing, lurking, just waiting to see something that it could feast on. Something I haven't overcome. A weakness. A fault-line. A crack in the wall. Then BAM! It's back and threatening to eat me up.

They say the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem. I guess this is my first step.

Goodnight.

Friday, September 21, 2012

People Around Me In Love And That

Romantic relationships are a thing that I've observed a lot in my life. Through fictional stories, semi-fictional stories (like, from E!) and very true life stories from the people around me. I see patterns, cycles, typical behaviour and all that.

I've seen how easily people change (particularly girls). How they compromise what they shouldn't (core values and that) but remain stubborn over the trivial things. 

I've seen how needy someone gets because they're so deprived of love before the relationship and depend solely on the other half of the couple to fulfill their emotional needs - which is WAY too much responsibility and burden for one human. That person feels suffocated and bolts - leaving the needy one even worse off than before. More than heartbroken and so willing to take them back.

I've seen how two people can stay together no matter how life-draining and unhealthy it is. They don't try to make things better but won't leave out of fear of being alone. So they stay, get bitter, die inside every day, but hey, at least they're not in that loser "forever alone" group.

I've seen how one party give give gives and the other take take takes. That's a recipe for how to slow-cook a nice, big bowl of resentment.

I've seen how couples begin to take the other for granted and always assume that the other party understands them and thus never explain what they really mean - leading to frustration and arguments that don't even make sense to the other person because they're no Jean Grey or specialise in code communication or are just too lazy to try. Either way, communication breaks down and every conversation is a ticking bomb.

I've seen how mistrust makes people psycho.

As well as the need to control.

I've seen abusive relationships - both emotionally and physically. The "victim" stays and they leave only to return again.

I've seen all this and more.

I've seen people who've known this and believed they were the exceptions then fall into the same ole sob story.


Which makes me curious what I'd be like. 

Monday, September 17, 2012

Laura Toailoa

As you can tell by my blog name, I don't really go about the internet under an alias or anonymous username - you see, I lack in creativity when it comes to making up names for myself. When I was ten, I was super excited to create my very own email address! I felt so grown up. So I thought long and hard and settled with tuiolelotolauratoailoa@yahoo.co.nz. My goodness it was SUCH a pain to write down for other people. So I eventually created a newer (but still boring) email address - lauratoailoa@hotmail.com (I know you've been DYING to know it, so there it is! ;) ). LOL

Every time I sign up to social networking sites or anything really, my instinct (to which I almost always stick to) is to make my username "lauratoailoa". I mean, it's not like it's ever going to be taken.

Which is only now starting to make me feel paranoid - should I have been more careful in revealing my real details?.... Future employers could easily write my name on Google and might dig up something in my now times that makes the difference between me getting the job or not. I've Googled myself (I know you have too! I mean... Googled yourself... not me) and blimen heck I wasn't very smart when signing up for things. I considered changing the name of this blog to make it more anonymous but then I've uploaded loads of photos on here already and blah blah blah.

What was the point of this post? Nothing really. Just a reason to type and get things out of my head  -  for isn't that the reason most blog?

Also, brownies and milk in my own "Laura" cup makes solitary nights feel less lonely

Thursday, September 13, 2012

Today, Life Is Good.

Oh what a relieving, refreshing experience it is to talk to someone else about your worries, insecurities and fears only to realise that they really do know what you mean. How beautiful it is to find a soul who completely understands and can empathise. How blessed I am to have people in my life who encourage my spirit more than they intended - who speak simply but effect words that change my world. How peaceful it is to realise my life is not ending - it's just beginning.

These worries, fade away. My problems, don't last. My tears will dry, my heart will mend, I will smile again.

I love it when people encourage my soul without being patronising. They speak truth as a matter of fact and speak without alterior motives. Their words resonant within long after they're spoken. They understand, they empathise, they nod their heads and saying that knowing "mmm" that lets me know we're on the same page.
"But what a comfort it is to share readings and experiences. How lucky we are when we get to be alone together."- John Green

I read somewhere -  "Life sucks then you die." But that will not be me, life sucks... but I live on. And on. And on. Till it gets better. So it's not that catchy but whatevs man.

If you asked me right now how I am... I would answer "fine". In the truest sense. I might not be fine tomorrow, but tomorrow can't worry about itself. For today my heart is quiet, content and smiling.

Goodnight dear reader :)

Saturday, September 8, 2012

Somebody I Used To Know

Dear Boy Who Used To Be So Important To Me,

I never really did close myself off to the possibility burning hope of seeing you again and seeing where we'd go from there and I never really did "get over you". I sometimes thought, what if things were different? What if I just stayed a little bit longer? What if what if what if what if....... Which seems silly because well, it's been a LONG while since us, and I don't even know if you care enough to hold me somewhere in your memories. Some days, I've wished I was, other days I've thought I wasn't worthy enough to be remembered. But now, I don't mind not knowing. It doesn't bother me either way. I wish things didn't go down like they did but they did. And I'm okay. Now. No more what if's. No more wishing upon a hopeless star. Just peace.

You were so gloriously perfect. Your freakin' gorgeous hair, that killer smile, your swag, your alluring way with words and the fact that you even considered me made me die and feel alive at the same time. I remember all that, the infatuated high, that giddy feeling and suppress the fact that I didn't really know you. I exposed my soul and everything I was and I didn't really see much of you. (NOTE TO MY FAMILY READING THIS: I promise you this is totally NON physical. haha). You spoke but never said much. Your words that captivated me then now seems rehearsed, recycled, retold. You never let me in, maybe you didn't know how or it just never crossed your mind to. Maybe you didn't notice my vulnerability. I wrote you embarrassingly sappy poems and letters for goodness sakes - who DOES that?! What? Did I think I was in some stupid rom com or Nicholas Sparks book or something?! Aaah, silly silly Laura. I was under your ridiculously charming spell that I SWORE was the real deal. The freakin' one. Fate. Soul Mates and all that shinanigans.

But you weren't. And I'm okay with that now. I can actually look back and laugh at myself instead of cringe or cry. The wound is now a scar, a scar that I don't mind having - no matter how ugly and painful it was to get it.

I hope you're okay. I will always wish good for you and your future - you're Laura-less future. Which is cool. You're cool.

Can't believe it took me this long. MAN I don't let things go very easily.

Goodbye J, and goodnight :)

Thursday, September 6, 2012

What Other People Think (of me)

I think about all the people (girls) who backstab other girls when they're not around and I wonder... what do these girls say about me when I'm not around. Mind you, they might not say much, I'm not exactly hot topic of conversation... but there's that insecure teenage part of me that is so hesitant to keep smiling at people who talk rubbish about others to (or around) me because I can't help but think they apply the same respect (or lack thereof) to me.

There's another part of me that's like, "pfft, no one talks about you - ever."

I don't know which part is more insecure - the part that WANTS to be talked about for the sake of being talked about, or the part that doesn't want to be talked about in fear that it won't be good.

I surprise myself with my semi-obsession about this. I never thought I would care about something like this - but I'm not immune to this version of fame. Why am I so obsessed with fame - and not even worldwide fame - simply fame among my peers. Peers who I won't see most of for the rest of life after this year is over. So why does it matter so much what they think of me. Although, my sister did once point out not to worry about what others thought of you since they're busy thinking about themselves (like I am now).

One thing I was thinking about recently was judging others and all that. And I figured, the human race is so naturally judgmental (usually). So no matter what I do, how hard I try to please people, someone, at least one (but probably more) will find a way to fault me. It's just a thing that happens. And the sooner I accept that that's a constant in life, the sooner I can focus on things I CAN change.

Thus ends another late night ramble about something rather. I hope it was enjoyable for you because the few minutes you spent reading this will never be returned. Lucky you.

Goodnight :)

Sunday, September 2, 2012

Someone Like Me

Sometimes A lot of the time, I wish I knew someone who thinks and overthinks like I do. I mean, I know of a few people but none in real life that I can talk to on a regular basis. Don't get me wrong, I love talking to my friends and family and stuff but it would be nice to talk about the inner workings of my brain and not have someone say "Woah, you're so weird right," or "that's so interesting the way you think about stuff" or "man, I don't even get you but it's fun to watch you talk about stuff no one thinks about".

I mean, it's extremely flattering when people tell me I fascinate them and it's fun to see the look on other people's faces when they've stopped keeping up with my crazy nonsensical thoughts. But I would love to be talking to someone and they'd be on the same page as me, they'd be nodding along and their face would glow with anticipation because they'd have drawn conclusions on the matter and couldn't wait to hear my opinion of it so we could discuss it together.

I have a person in mind to talk to about my craziness but I'm so hesitant to approach them because once I tell a little thing about my thoughts, my brain's like, "oh, okay, flush ALL your thoughts out - got it!". I have large talking inertia. It's hard to change the current state of it (which is silence). But once that's overcome, it's hard to stop. Also, crying is a thing that happens. I cry easily. VERY easily - I think they have a term for it... aha, yes... cry baby. But not like Johnny Depp, much less cool than that (because we all thought that movie was cool right?? lol)!

So yeah, it'll be cool to talk to someone who didn't make me feel weird. And I know there are lots of nice people who are willing to talk with me and be nice and try not to offend me, but it's still not the same as someone who I didn't have to try explain myself to  - they'd just... get it.

Or maybe I'm just being way too emo about this and my thoughts are not as complicated as I make them out to be and many people could empathise perfectly with me and I just should just stop being a drama queen. But I just need to talk to SOMEONE right. Like Rihanna once said, shut up and drive.

Saturday, September 1, 2012

Get Up Even If You Don't Want To

Spoiler for the fifth episode of the fifth series of Doctor Who Flesh and Stone. Although I only use it as a  reference so if you haven't watched it and don't care to, still read this.

Okay, if you've seen that episode, you might remember that the Angels get imprinted in her brain and threaten to kill her. She felt weaker by the second and started to believe she was turning into stone. The Doctor tells her to close her eyes because it's the only way to stop that Angel. Then she says, "No, no, I don't want to."  In which he replies, "Good, because that's not you, that's the Angel inside you, it's afraid! Do it! Close your eyes!" Everything inside screamed and resisted against it, yet, it was what saved her.

Okay, anecdote over now. This made me think about all the times I felt thing resembling depression (or perhaps was) but being happy was the last thing I was thinking about. Because when I'm incredible sad, I don't want to make things better, I don't want to be better. I just want to eat chocolate and lie down and cry for a little ever. But that's not good. Because sadness is infinite and if I never get out of it, it will consume me and I will fall into suicidal territory (I've edged it a bit before). 

I don't know if you believe in God and Satan but even if you don't, you can use Satan to represent the "darkness" and God the "light". Anyway, Satan hates God so naturally, being better, feeling not-depressed is not something that Satan wants so when you're in his territory, his depression, trying to get out of it feels unnatural, is repellent because it wants you to stay, to spiral down. It knows if you take those steps into getting out, getting better, it would its grip on you. Becasue it wants you to stay a prisoner.

Which is why doing what you don't want is exactly what you should do. Which is a hard pill for me to swallow because I so easily jump on the self-pity bandwagon and rarely the self-help one. Because when I'm happy, I want to keep things that way, taking care of myself and loving myself come naturally. 


I don't know if I've really done my thoughts justice with my writing but hopefully you're able to read the exformation* that I've failed to provide. I thought I better record this thought train in case I forgot it. 

Have a good night :)

*I don't think this is a legit word but exformation is like information, except it's not stated but you still might see and understand it. Like when people say vague, incoherrent sentences then say "you know what I mean?" 
To use it in a sentence: Girls provide too much exformation and not enough information.

Wednesday, August 29, 2012

What Goes On In This Head Of Mine

I have a very cute A4 sized notebook given to me by a friend and I write all sorts in it - thoughts, vlog ideas, homework, to-do lists, wishlists, notes of what people says, notes about things I see in my everyday life. It's like my little, portable pensive. Which is perfect because I hate forgetting.

I love archiving my life and memories. I'm the Queen of the Kingdom of Nostalgia so any thing, no matter how little is worth recording. I keep random pieces of rubbish if it meant a memory of something/someone.

I once kept a piece of Extra gum wrapping because it belonged to a boy I really liked. What, loser? Who me?? Couldn't be! But I don't know where that piece of wrapping paper is anymore, which is a good thing.
I even kept empty Lift bottles because they were drunk with special people at special times... or so I hope... because I have NO clue as to why I've kept them - fail hoarder.
I keep as much books as I can from school and about once a year, I go through them all and laugh at how stupid I was. Simple algebra was such a task to learn. Aah... fond academic memories...

The moral of the story is wear sunscreen and eat strawberries. What am I saying... the most sunscreen I wear is my SPF15 moisturiser and I only get strawberries if they're on special at New World for two packs for $5.

Back to my super awesome notebook - I write thoughts both raw and processed. I'll share some with you :)

I've been thinking about children who live in third world countries and first world ones too that aren't as privileged as I. Who don't get a chance at free education for 13 years. Who get dropped off to school if they do go. Who walk soaking wet to and from. Who have teachers who actually show up and teach. Who don't have teachers who a lot of the time pull extra weight to help them. Who don't have a chance of succeeding in what they love. Who don't even know WHAT they love doing because the focus of each day is to survive, nothing else. I'm not able to sponsor a child or have money to give to charities but what I can do is make the most of my educational blessings because WHAT an arrogant thing it would be to these deprived children to wave our free schooling in their faces and wipe our asses with it. One of the best things we can do (as oddly selfish as it sounds) for them is to fully appreciate and make the most of what we have and use it to our advantage. In respect to those who can't, let's make the most of these last few month of "horrible" school and get the best marks we can.

Funerals are sad. But I'm mostly sad because those who are living are sad. I cry most easily when I see others cry in movies and real life. So when someone I know and love dies, it doesn't actually ring true until I see how it's impacted other people's lives. Because I don't realise they're not there until the times I'd usually see them (if that makes sense). People dying makes me sad. But people crying makes me sadder.

I was at the park last week sometime writing and I saw a father and son flying their kite. One of the cutest sights.

The greater the risk, the greater the reward. I mostly think about this in the sense of meeting new people - which is the thing totally against my natural tendencies. But I could walk past someone who I could get along with like ying and yang and be a friend like no other but I'd never know if I never smile and open my mouth (with words coming out mind you, I suspect simply opening and closing one's mouth like a fish may deter people rather than attract them). Or I could just totally go all awkward turtle on them and they walk away in disgust or confusion. Nonetheless I shall talk to more people.

That's enough for now. I want to stop typing because mum is sleeping right next to me and I might wake her up. Okies, goodnight for now :)

Sunday, August 19, 2012

Go To Sleep Brain

Why is it that when I finally put my head on my pillow and pull my mink blanket up to my chin (because even though nights are warmer now, I love the cosy all-over-body hug it gives), and I shut my tired eyes that my brain decides it's a perfect time to think about things and stuff.

I don't want to think about how to relate real life examples of heroes into my English report.

I don't want to think about the possibility that the main reason that I'm so intrigued about trying to understand why people do the things they do was so I can best analyse why I do what I do so I can explain to people the inner workings of my thoughts in the hopes that they can empathise with me. Because with empathy comes forgiveness and you can hate someone less if you can see where they're coming from. And I want people to like me less so I try provide reasons for my irrationality, insecurities and stuff.

I don't want to think about how awesome the BBC television show Sherlock is (although, it is!).

I don't want to think about all the fictional characters I wish were real and in my life.

I don't want to think about how cute a kid was with his dad flying their kite today at the park was.

I don't want to think about how it sucks that the weekend comprises of only two days.

I don't want to think about the fact that in my second half of my last year at high school but that everything will be okay. Hundreds of people have had last years of high school long before I started my first year. This is not a new phenomenon to the human race, only to me. Much like most things in my life. It's all been done before. So just keep calm and carry on.

I don't want to think about the fact that it's now 1:30am and start counting the hours that I have to sleep.

I don't want to think about all the things I need to do before Monday morning.

I don't want to think about the fact that I find it so hard to ask for help and to admit that I'm wrong. I'm can't be perfectly perfect - so why am I under the illusion that I must be?

I don't want to think about the fact that I find it harder and harder to write a blog. Every post has to better than the last. And if it's not - don't post it. I write and let it sit in the "Drafts" folder and never open it again.

I don't want to think about how I have that cliche tendency that girls have that wants the people who love her to fight for her. That's right, as grossingly pathetic that sounds, I want those who care about me to fight for me - usually meaning they'd have to fight me and what I say. Is that selfish? I have a feeling it is. And yet...

I don't want to think about any of this. I just want to sleep. And by flushing these out of my brain, I'll be able to now.

Goodnight (hopefully).

Tuesday, August 7, 2012

Close-mindedness About Music

One of the things that irritates the living daylights out of me is when people don't like, or even hate other stuff because it's "weird" to them.

"Weird" is in the eye of the beholder.
"Weird" is subjective.
"Weird" means you don't understand it.
"Weird" means you're not used to it.
"Weird" means it's YOUR problem, not theirs.
"Weird" is not law.
"Weird" is not fact.
"Weird" does not equate to bad quality.
"Weird" is not a reason to get ANGRY.

It's mostly on YouTube I witness people hating on things they find "weird" but I do see it real life too. People are afraid of what they cannot understand. And what's their automatic response to it? Discredit it. Mock it. Sneer at anyone who supports it.

If you don't "get" it, you have no right to make calls about it. This applies mostly to music. Because everything thinks they have the best taste in music and think they're justified in putting down other genres or artists.

First of all, that's just mean to hate on another person's hard work and creativity just because it doesn't fit into your small elitist box of "all-things-cool". Second of all, taste in music is not a thing you can be better at! It's like saying those who like blue have better taste in colour than those who like purple (lol crip).

I don't get screamo music. I don't understand it. To me is just noise. But that's not how other people see it. It's some people's escape from their depression. It's some people's melody over their parent's fighting. It's some people tune to stroll down the street to. It's some people dancing tunes.

Folks who fancy themselves "above" hip-hop" diss Nicki Minaj's music because her lyrics aren't intelligently witty like other musicians they like. But who said clever with was what she was going for? Why are you using a ruler to measure the mass of something? It doesn't fit, it doesn't work.

“Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.” - Einstein the skux
That principle applies here does it not?

So what if a song has no meaningful lyrics but makes you wanna shake what your momma gave you? Is that such a bad thing? Is it not better that people find joy in cookie-cutter music to dance to to shut out the world rather than inhaling cocaine as escapism.

Is it not better than people unite as Beliebers and feel a part of a worldwide community of people who understand your obsession than to feel like you have no one to connect to?

Music does not belong exclusively to the classy or the educated or the poets. It's for everyone. Every community. Every social-economic class.

I'm not saying people should just stick to what they know and not have an opinion about other stuff (because as you can see here, I feel my opinion hold some worth since I feel the urge to put it on the internet), but people shouldn't be bigots about it. Because the sooner everyone stops believing their life is the only way to live, the sooner we can stop this nonsense of thinking we're so high and mighty and right all the time. Open your mind, wear someones metaphoric shoes and stop hating the world because you don't know it. Go out and explore. Talk to people, read books about people, watch movies about people and get to at least know ABOUT people who are different to you.

We're scared about what we don't understand. And I'm sure we ALL know...
“Fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering.” - Yoda ma man!

Monday, July 30, 2012

Pros And Cons

(Inspired by one of my favourite blogger's, esetasays, recent blog post)

Pro: Competing with my family to see who can make the ugliest face. They make me laugh so much it hurts. 

Con: Hipster Whovians who get all up in my grill about having not seen pre-RTD seasons. Whatevs man.

Pro: Hanging out with my friends doing nothing much but enjoying the company, conversation and of course - laughs.

Con: Not quite managing responsibilities to the best of my ability.

Pro: Singing my lungs out in church and having the music blasted into my ears so I hear nothing but joy of the spirit.

Con: Taking on more than I should.

Pro: My mum who tolerates my grumpy doucheness when she could just smack me over the head for it.

Con: My sister is only in Auckland for about three hours on her way to Samoa this week.

Pro: She'll be in Auckland for about three hours on her way to Samoa!!

Con: Not having sleeping patterns that are in sync (lol) with the education system.

Pro: Unexpected kindness. 

Con: Perpetual fatigue.

Pro: Bloggers and vloggers who I cyber korero with.

Con: English assignment.

Pro: Finding a Craccum somewhere and reading it (well duh, what else whould I do with it?). Craccum is one of the biggest reasons I wanna go to UoA (but it's not quite a big enough reason).

Con: Writing this blog instead of doing other, more important things.

Pro: Searching something up on Google with very vague words but finding exactly what I needed because other people also searched it up using the same vagueness and general idea. 
"You discover that your longings are universal longings, that you're not lonely and isolated from anyone. You belong.” ― F. Scott Fitzgerald
Although, I'm pretty sure he wasn't referring to Google searches.



Thursday, July 26, 2012


you're so beautiful
but that's not why I love you.
and I'm not sure you know
that the reason I love you is you
being you
just you.


Sunday, July 22, 2012

A.D.D Of Sorts

I seem to have A.D.D when I do homework. I constantly switch from one subject to another. I'll do one calculus problem, then answer a bit of my biology question, then read over my chemistry notes, then do another calculus problem then go over last week's physics notes.

I've noticed this resembled frighteningly close to how I browse this amazing universe that is the internet. I'd have a few tabs open with different websites and I'd tab-hop (if that's even a term) from one to another. I'd write a paragraph of a blog, before looking up hairstyles on pinterest then I'd check my fb, return to blogger and write a bit more before watching a YouTube vid then returning to blogger because someone said an idea that I could use. Then I'd read a blog I follow, then I'd read another and another before remembering I was in the middle of writing my own.

This short attention spam is common among us youngins  right? We get bored quickly. We need constant entertainment. Even life without constant music playing into our ears makes this seem boring. We can just sit for a long period of time in the quiet doing one thing. Our lives demand colour, sound, bustling, change all the time.

And I'm just gonna finish up here because I feel like doing something else.

Sunday, July 15, 2012

Thoughts: "When Water Burns"

Note: This is about a book titled "When Water Burns" by Lani Wendt Young, it's not a scientific post about the temperature of H2O, or about me burning myself with it. 


SPOILERS KINDA. I mention my favourite characters. And one that wasn't in the first book. But I don't talk about what happens. The ending and what I thought about it not mentioned at all. 
(Also, hurry up sister and sister! I want to discuss the book already! lol)


Cover design: Jordan Kwan
This book is the second of the Telesa trilogy that follows the story of a late teenage girl (around 18. wait, I think she's 18) named Leila who moved back to her mum's homeland, Samoa to find out about her heritage and all that. Also things resembling fire-bending happens. Oh, and she's in love with a dude. That happened in the first book. The second one's just a continuation (Thank you Captain Obvious). I don't really wanna write what happens in the second book but it's still in Samoa, she's more settled in and she's still in love with said dude (that's them on the cover). 

Okay, you either already knew what I just poorly summarised and could probably think of a better way to describe it, or you've never heard of the book so I didn't want to give too much away. Anyway, read what I thought about it and see if it's something you'd fancy, oooor, tell me if you agreed of disagreed with anything I said. 

I loved that it's set in Samoa and most (but not all) locations were familiar. I've read and watch lots of stories set in America and the UK and places like Rodeo Drive, Wall Street, and London Square are places I've heard lots about. They're like acquaintances - I kind of know of them, but only at face value. I can't really say much apart from what it looks like and the times I've seen them. But to hear about Samoan locations casually in the text allows me to be more easily immersed in the story because I'm so familiar with the setting. I understand the vibe, the culture, the general people's attitude there and also what it feels like to be physically there. It's easier to visualise the scene and it makes the characters seem more like real people rather than characters of a novel. They're walking in the places I've walked, they love the food I love and are surrounded by people who are similar to people I know.


It was such an easy book to read. And I don't mean in a way where the book is like one of those Aussie Bites books written with simple vocabulary in large font with fewer words. I mean that it held my attention very well. I didn't feel like skipping chunks of it because the narration was getting boring (something I'm very prone to doing). Also, (and I don't want to sound pompous and fiapoko when I say that) Lani's writing has improved since the first book of the trilogy. Her story telling is more fluid.


I liked the subplots so much that I didn't mind when the main plot was paused for a while. The story didn't feel like it dragged out because the mini stories were greatly welcomed comedy relief (thanks to Simone) and also the story didn't feel rushed because it was spaced out (great terminology, I know). 


As I did in the first book, I loved Matile and Tuala. They were my favourite characters. They were just so... real. Their dialogue, their personalities were so familiar that I just laughed at the reality of their seemingly cold yet loving attitude they had towards Leila. The little things about them, like how Matile loved the lace fabric thingy Leila brought and how she dissaproved of the use of chocolate chips in her recipe just make me chuckle to myself. The brief scenes they had never failed to make me smile.


Keahi. I didn't mind him. With any book, I find it hard to physically visualise my characters. Most of the time, they're just invisible people with personalities. But Keahi's physical appearance was a big thing to the other characters in the story. I got frustrated at myself because Lani repeatedly described his appearance but I still couldn't accurately picture it myself. I did my best and I decided I don't mind him at all. Especially his totally not ugly face. (Will "he" be appearing in any photoshoots any time soon??)


I think Daniel did to me what Edward Cullen did to others. That thing where the ideal man is painted with perfection... and more. Yeah, I'm trying not to get sucked into that dangerous place where I judge guys because they don't live by WWDD (What Would Daniel Do). Anyway, Daniel's gotta have some flaws right? RIGHT?! I'm sure Donna can tell me! She's good at shedding realistic light onto seemingly perfect things (and people). 


One more thing I liked was that it was written by an author who I know through blogger.com (haha, my claim to fame right there - although I'm probably related to David Tua or The Rock too). The addiction to diet coke, Daniel's ability to think about nothing and other little details reminded me of blog posts I've read on Sleepless In Samoa. So not only did I feel a personal connection with the story, but also with the author (I have this uncomfortable feeling I'm being pretentious but I don't know how else to describe it. Eh! YOLO! haha).


So yeah, I think it's safe to say I enjoyed this book.

Sunday, July 8, 2012

Word Vomit

Note: I know this is not good writing as far as structure and conveying of ideas goes. All you English thriving people, forgive me. But if you try, I'm sure you'll find something worth reading in there! Cheers :)


When I was younger, the world was more black and white. There were good guys, there were bad guys. Cinderella - good. Stepmothers and her daughters - bad. There was right (whatever my parents told me to do) and there was wrong (disobeying my parents). There were nice people (my aunties) and there were scary people (most adults from my home village). Things were much simpler although I didn't know it at the time.

However, growing up has tendency to make me see things in a different light and shades of grey are illuminated. The good guys and bad guys now have dimensions to them. You put yourself in the shoes of the mother from My Sister's Keeper and tell me what you'll do. And I guarantee you'll find someone who would do otherwise. Snape. 'Nuff said. Right and wrong are fuzzy and complex and right to someone may be wrong to someone else. Or what's right for you now may be wrong for you ten years from now, or even a week from now. Yeah, sitting down, relaxing is okay for now. However, it's not for everyday as work needs to get done and productivity needs to happen. Killing someone who called you ugly is not advised. However, a soldier in a war defending his country from invasion is a different kind of killing is it not? Nice people don't all come in picture perfect packages and you wouldn't discover their niceness until you give them the time of day.

This may have sounded like meaningless rambling (my brain isn't quite switched on today), but the point is, some things are concrete like - don't fart in people's faces. But few things are. But I think I should always try and do what's right rather than trying to keep clear from what's wrong because what I look at takes up most of my vision.

So many teenagers ask questions like "is it wrong to do weed?" or "is drinking okay" or "should I have a girlfriend/boyfriend in high school?" etc etc etc. But we're looking at the wrong side people. We should be looking at what we should be doing. Because usually what's right automatically contradicts what's wrong. But again, this principle is not set in stone and there's an exception to everything. But I believe that pursuing love, forgiveness, hope, grace is better than trying to skim through life always bordering but not quite crossing the line of what we think we shouldn't do.

But if you dig deeper, you'd know that what we do are not random acts we do for no reason. There are forces, decision making, neuron activity that dictates what our physical body performs. There is mental activity that sends signals to each part of your body to act. There are emotions and attitudes that have potential to dictate your every move.

But there is you. You are more than your emotions. Everyone has those, animals, Vulcans, humans. Everyone feels sad, angry, happy, sexual attraction. That's chemical reactions that go bizzerk without our permission. But you, and I, are so much more than emotions. Because we can decide what to do with them. Emotions don't define us, not if we don't want them to. Married people who have remained faithful required a daily decision to ignore attraction to other people who are easy on the eyes. People who redirect their anger to productivity like art, blogs or theraputic conversation overcome the bitterness the threatens to eat them up.

I don't bottom line here, this post has wandered from its inital topic. My brain latches on to different ideas and my fingers follow suit. Hope you enjoyed my rambling.


Saturday, July 7, 2012

Talking To People

I don't like small talk, pleasantries or whatever else you call them. I'm a person that cares too much. I either care too much, or not at all. Which leaves no room for small, seemingly meaningless talk.

When someone asks how my day was and isn't prepared to listen to how it really was, I get annoyed (although, then there are those who do actually care but I don't have a response ready for them. Sorry 'bout that. I just really don't like that question). I'm aware that my caring about this is the anomaly in society, it still baffles me that people say "Hey, how are ya?" WHILE WALKING AWAY. Walking away! "How are you?" is a question, not a greeting. Questions generally require answers - unless it's rhetorical. And people can't be asking me rhetorically if I'm fine... right?


I like elaborating on ideas. Discussing, challenging, reinforcing or inquiring about them. Which is limited with new people. Because I like that thing they call the comfort zone. That zone of familiarity with someone. Where you can speak your mind and know you're not being judged (or at least, you know how they will judge you and it's okay). I like to know where I'm at with people so I know the limits of what I can and cannot say. Which is one reason talking to new people freaks me out. Because new people means starting from scratch; sussing out what they like and dislike and the general conversation topics that keeps their tongue going. I hate dead conversations and trying to spark up new topics when others fail.

But where there is great risk, comes great reward. Because sometimes you come across people who, you may only have one conversation with, but enrich your life that little bit more. Someone who is unlike anyone else you've met and you feel so grateful to have known them, if only slightly.

There's this one boy who I met who's weirdness kind of reminded me of myself (although, he's a bit weirder). He totally understood my struggle of deciding which flavoured sandwich (is that how sandwiches are described?) to eat and said he gets it too. I felt so normal. He liked different music to most teenagers I know, didn't know who 1D were and referred to Justin Bieber as "that Canadian guy" followed by "I thought his name was Josh for some strange reason". Talking to him opened my eyes to how different humans can be. I mean, I know that in theory but usually different people are only on television and movies. To meet someone who knows how to and enjoys the Waltz is just fascinating. And I didn't even ask for his name. Woops.

So meeting new people is not a thing I like to do. But is a thing I enjoy SOMETIMES once I, or someone else, pushes myself to do it.

Friday, June 29, 2012

Brain Crack

Brain crack is an idea you have. A brilliant idea. An idea that if executed in the perfect conditions will be amazing. Except, you don't execute the idea. You think ways to make it better, you wait till you have more money, more experience, more familiarity with it, more time, more energy. Because this idea will be spectacular if you can get it just right. But instead of ACTUALLY doing it, it just remains an idea. In your head. It addictive because you keep thinking up of ways to improve it. But you never actually do it because you're not quite ready yet and it might turn into custard. Time gets wasted because instead of using it as a period of improvement and upskilling yourself, you're left with the same ole ability and the ever expanding idea.

This happens to me a lot. With craft stuffs, hair ideas, but especially regarding blog posts.

I think of so many blog topics that I brainstorm and elaborate on. Then I mentally edit it and cut a bit here and there. I change it up a lil' and try to make it just right. The problem is, my brain doesn't let those ideas flow to my fingertips onto the keyboard. My brain just hoards the ideas. Too afraid to release it into the void of the unknown.

What if it's crap? What if I think of a better way to do it? What if people don't like it? What if I don't like it? What if people will look at me differently? What if people take it the wrong way? Have I made myself clear enough to steer clear of miscommunication? Whatifwhatifwhatif......

But what if it's great? What if I get better by doing it more? What if you develop a thicker skin? What if you take a stance alone and find out that it's possible? What if everything goes right?

These questions won't get answers if I don't let out my brain crack. This addiction needs to be rid of. Get my ideas out there and do 'em!

Thursday, June 21, 2012

Not Alone

I'm not the only one who feels like they're sick of being "the good girl" all the time and that there's so much pressure to be better than the average human if you're generally not horrible.

I'm not the only one who gets angry at my parents and siblings.

I'm not the only one who thinks about running away and cutting ties from everyone I know and to just start again.

I'm not the only one who didn't get an Excellence.

I'm not the only who's cried myself to sleep.

I'm not the only one who's felt so fat and ugly that I just want to hide and hate myself in a corner of loathsome.

I'm not the only one who's felt so out of place in an unfamiliar place. Like being in Taupo surrounded by rich white skinny families with flash cars.

I'm not the only one who's been terribly embarassed by being wrong.

I'm not the only one who has felt alone even though I'm constantly sourrounded by people who love me.

I'm not the only one that has failed and hated myself for failing and hated myself for hating myself and so on.

I'm not the only one who's gotten rejected.

No. I'm not the only one. I'm not alone in these horrible experiences. You are not alone. It feels like it because you internalise everything. It feels like it because you think everyone else's life but yours rocks. It feels like it because you're not in their head. But you're not alone. You're not. I'm not.

We're all in this together.

Friday, June 8, 2012

Old Friends

Don't you just hate seeing people at school at you have eye contact for a split second and you think about how you used to be quite good friends with them, how you're not sure if they remember you so you don't want to say hi and be rejected, and you miss them a little, and then you look away because you're too damn scared of saying hi.

I've done this countless times. About two years ago (and last year) I'd see these two girls who were my best friends back in primary school. But it was too awkward to say hi. They didn't really acknowledge each other. The three of once played on the playground together, now not a word spoken between us.

It's so weird co-existing with humans you used to be close with. I guess it's similar to what hanging out with an ex-boyfriend must be like but on a smaller scale.

I hate losing friends. But it happens to everyone so at least there's comfort in that.

In primary school, one of my best friends (mentioned above) was a year older than I was and she went to intermediate school while I was stuck in year 6. I wrote her letters that I gave to her brother (who was still in primary) to pass onto her. I never got a reply. I stopped after about 5 letters. Felt like a lot of a loser.

In intermediate school, I had another quite close friend who was a year older. She had the biggest smile I knew and I learnt that people who smoke, wag class, get into fights, calls themselves a "crip" can be the nicest people ever. On the last day of school, we had a massive hug and cry in the rain because she would be going to high school the next year, I'll be stuck in year 8 and we might never see each other again. We saw each other on the street and we had a very brief awkward conversation. Just formalities really.

In high school (which I'm still in), I had a really close friend. Then I had to go make things awkward by telling him I "like" liked him and now we're not close friends. Yeah.

I had a best friend in Samoa who was Japanese and she didn't really talk to anyone but me. Not even the teacher. When the teacher would ask her a question, she'd whisper in my ear and I'd answer for her. I would eat half of her lunch and drink her tea.
 I had another best friend in another school in Samoa who once punched me in the face. I was a bit scared of her but she was like a shield for me from the mean boys. We were very competitive about our academics.

It's always interesting seeing how people have changed over the years. I would love to meet all my old friends again and tell them how much I appreciate them. How much I sometimes miss them but am quite glad to have known them.

I miss my old friends but I love my now friends. I'm so blessed to have like-able people around me. Friends is a thing I talk about a lot but I really like them.

An fyi:
I've written and not posted so many posts and this was that post where I felt like I had to just do it. So I did. No proofreading in case I chickened out. Again. Good.

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Things

Things.
Things are starting to pile up
Things are starting to get overwhelming
Things are not being prioritised in the right order.
Things are freaking me out.

Lists.
Lists help me organise
Lists untangle my billions of thoughts
Lists bring order.
Lists are my friends.

God.
God is still in control
God holds my life in his hands
God musn't be ignored, as He currently is.
God still loves me, even when I don't feel it.

Laura.
Laura is still alive
Laura can do all things through Christ who gives her strength
Laura will not cry tears of weakness or wave her white flag.
Laura will not quit, on school, on duties, on people, on life.

Friend.
You have helped me a lot
Esp. during the times of my darkest thoughts
Thank you. A lot.

Things.
Things still need to be done
Things will no go away until I deal with them
But things do not rule my life.

Thursday, May 24, 2012

Alfred


I'm so grateful that Mr Van Der Heever put us in an alphabetical seating plan that placed me right next to you.

Thanks for not killing me that day I slapped you on the neck. Hard.

We had some good painful times way back when you had an anger management problem. You've come so far. 

No one gives hugs like you do.

Remember when it was me you and Azhar? So random but awesome.

I love how much you supported the Samoan group. Every practice. Even Saturdays. V.I.P hard.

I love your mocks.

Remember how we used to hard out mock compliment your shorts?

You were the best non-prefect! Car park directing :D

You can always make people smile and laugh. Thanks for spreading your happiness everywhere you go.

I love how even though we haven't had any classes together since year 9, you still remain a good friend. Thank you for not being awkward/drifting away/becoming an acquaintance. 

Happy birthday