Particulars.

You know sometimes I remember the odd things. The details. The patches in the carpet that are a little more worn than the rest. Or in this case, the positioning of his shoes. Whenever he takes off his shoes, they are always angled in the same way. Left front perched ontop of the right, socks barely concealed but still tucked within the shoe. I don't know exactly why this coincidence particularly amazes me, yet if I were to try and do that everytime I took off my shoes, I shan't think I'd be capable at all. It must be some form of talen, taking years of the right training and environmental exposure to adapt to this perculiar habit, this perplexing talent.
Yet.

That's not the only thing I've noticed. I've noticed the length of beard he finds just right. I've noticed the way he can speak loudly to his friends and feels incredibly awkward around me. I've noticed that when we do get talking, he quickly changes his lean from his right, to his left leg as my brother passes. I've noticed the semi-tone drop of his vocal pitch when he's trying hard to impress someone.

He tends to be a noticable boy. I think.

Aspiration.

One day, I am going to be a supermodel.
And I'm gonna tear this shit to the ground. And take you by suprise.
And.

Everything will be Good.

Swelling.

Do you ever feel like your eardrums are going to swell up and close due to the layerings of different noises? Individually uninteresting, the rustle of flipped pages and the sound of keys dropping on a wet sidewalk, yet when pulled together, and added to a droning voice, leg readjustments, yawns and whistles, there are so many individual pieces of information that I find it hard to detangle myself from the noise. This swell I find so disconcerting puts me on the edge of my heart beat, one falter from my precarious perch could send me into all sorts of strife. It makes you feel nauseous, when your heart seems to fill your chest, brimming with an unknown uncertainty, an inconstistancy of your usual thought that you just can't place.

You feel like you can hear every movement ever made. Your hearts breaking through your chest, swelling and teaming and writhing to free itself from every one of your pores. Your arms feel heavy, a solidified and clumping weight filling from your finger tips up. Eyelids are rigid, set in a half-open stupour as you try and seperate yourself from your weight. A tension fills your throat and finds the brunt of the attack shunted backwards, a longing to say something burning and pressing and wishing it's way into existance, but never through the lips. Only the eyes.

I feel inflated. But less positive.

Is Rather Suprised.

You know why?

Because on the whole Harry Potter buzz that I've been hooked on recently, I've found out that Tom Felton, who plays Draco Malfoy, is a musician. And I really really enjoy his music. He's got one of those really great English alternate voices, almost like.. the Kooks but slower, and not quite as good. So I really enjoy it.

:) Bonus.

Timothy Mann, the man, the myth, the legend.

Timothy Jeffery Mann. I will never ever know how to spell your middle name. Because, evidently sir, neither do you. This is a tribute written about Tim, for Tim, because he really doesn't know how much I truely appreciate him. For those on looking, not knowing much about Tim, this is the low-down. Tim is my best friend. We're in a band. We travelled Japan together. We're going to revisit in 2012. He is the sweetest man that I have ever met, and probably the most ocker Aussie bloke ever (apart from his Dad). I'm really glad that I met him. Like on a scale of one to how much I value my life.. it's up there with my life :)




My journey with this boy in Japan was absolutely life changing. I know that sounds terribly cliched, and I apologise for this un-Sally sounding entry, (it's lacking my usual gruff affection that I apply to my writing), but it's completely and utterly mutha' flippin' true. Without Tim I would have gone completely bonkers. The best reminder of home. Like carrying around a little portable pocket home, so you didn't miss the real home at all while you were away. He was a person to hug when all the other people didn't see the need for physical contact. He was the one who also didn't think it neccessary to wear shoes all the time (thank god, I would have died). He shared with me the music that I missed so much, and always reminded me of what exactly I was doing at the time. 'Hey Sally. What are you doing right now?'

'We're having a barbeque. On the rooftop of a building. Within a conference. IN JAPAN!'


Tim's me best mate. He knows me better than any other person in the whole globe. He knows what I'm thinking, when I need a hug and the best thing to say for every situation. He'll put up with my girlie movie choices (YES EAT PRAY LOVE) and most of all, he is just the coolest guy in the whole world. Ever.

Ever. Ever. Ever. Ever. Ever. Ever. Ever. Ever. Ever. Ever. Ever. Ever. Ever. Ever. Ever. Ever. Ever. Ever. Ever.

A Couple More People.

Kan Yamane. This boy is a real delight. Seriously. He's English speaking accent is American and knows how to make and take a joke. He knew all the colloquialisms, which was good because Tim and I were hardly understood overseas. Kan lives in Tokyo, has a traditional Japanese boy haircut and PLAYS THE SAXAPHONE. Which, you know, is cool. He was a ladies man overseas, to be sure, and when Tim and I first got a glimpse at his picture we were both definite that this kid was going to be some form of Japanese gangsta. Which didn't end up happen. Thank God for that.
I talk to Kan alot. He can pull off a skirt really well, and makes a wonderful evil stepmother. And boy can he use a fan flatteringly! It's a little bit scary. I miss Kan. Kan Yamaneko. Neko means cat. By the way Tom. :P

This is Ramaaaaa. He was probably one of my favourite people in this program, definitely within the international kids. He was (and still is, I assume) ADORABLE. Honestly, the smile on this kid could let him get away with murder. Or something equally as serious. Like cat lifting or drug trafficking. Rama has the most amazing singing voice I have ever heard on a guy that I met. He is the real deal. And he is MA BIG FELLA. To put it in Australian terms. Just a real, charming gentleman, part Australian and doesn't have the arts as subjects in his school! Which is craaazy! Oh and another about Rama was he is always really well dressed, even when it was casual clothing. Very impressive. But honestly, one of the nicest guys. He could be so rude to you, but it was just SO FUNNY that you could get offended because you were too busy laughing! I miss him alot. Hopefully I'll go see him soon. Visit him when he is living in Perth. That sounds like a good idea.

This is Kim. First person Tim and I ever met on AYEPO. It was pretty funny. The whole flight, I had been admiring her shoes and thinking that she slept in an unusual position on the plane. Turns out as we were getting off that she overheard where we were going and she was heading to the same program. Bonus. Kim really helped us break the ice I guess. She was really nice and encouraged us to speak to the other international kids. Most of the time I intentionally tried to freak her out by pulling my uncomfortable lines, but she just didn't cave in! Which is suprising, they are pretty bad. She was really great to talk to, quick witted and always there to lend a hand with anything we needed. I really missed her when she and the other OBs left early (OB stands for Old Buddy, and were participants from the program of 2009). Hopefully she'll rock over to Australia soon. Or I might go back to New Zealand. It is a wonderful place, as you know, Tom.

Facebook Says I'm Cedric Diggory.

But we all know this is a lie. For one thing, I am certainly not dead. Although being killed by Lord FRICKEN Voldermort would be on the top of my ways to die if the whole situation wasn't actually a fictional novel. This brings me to post about a story I'm not sure whether you've heard. I'll recount it anyway.

I assume that you are familiar with the Harry Potter books. Even if you haven't finished them, you know there is some little scarred kid called Harry who runs around fighting crime using only a piece of wood, and accompanied by a redhaired male dreamboat and an intelligent brunette girl. I read the first book by myself when I was seven years old. That was in the year 2000, also the year of the Sydney Olympic Games and all that while that I think about it. No wonder I went crazy about it, it was my new craze of the millenia! Anyway, I loved it with a passion. I could recite line after line of the books, we have the board game, and the website was the most visited address between the hours of 4-5.30pm in the afternoon of a weekday. The character I always associated with was... yep, you guessed it.. Hermione. I thought I was pretty clever, and all the things that Hermione was supposed to be. My hair was wild. I was a suck up. The usual.

And then the movie came out. In 2001.
I was devestated.

Not because the movie came out, I was thrilled about that. It was the casting that got me into a right spin. Honest to God, I hit my pillow so many times. I couldn't get over it. I mean, all I could think to myself was 'She's only THREE YEARS OLDER THAN ME! THREE! THIS IS BULLSHIT!' (well, maybe not the .. this is bullshit .. part, because I was still only 8, but you get my drift). I was angry for weeks. I went through all my flaws of character, and realised I could have never been her anyway. I was hardly british enough. Or Emma Watson..y.

So you know, I got over it. I still love the books. Rupert Grint is still number one hottest ranga in the world, fo sho. But you know, facebook, even in your stupid little quizzes, you find another way to stab eight year old Sally Gorman right in the heart.

I am not Cedric Diggory.

I AM HERMIONE GRANGER OKAY?
I AM.

Glad we sorted that out.