The Challenge of Laughter.

So, last night I was jumping with my little sister on the trampoline and she was laughing the entire time. She has one of those really cute, addictive laughs. I couldn’t help but laugh along with her. Holding hands, jumping and giggling the afternoon away as we watched the sun slowly set. Her laugh was so innocent, untouched by the reality of our world, it was genuine. It made me think about the plasticness (I’m pretty sure I just made that word up) of people’s laughs. It’s hard to find a laugh that’s real, like my siste'rs. A laugh that, as us South Africans say, comes from the pit of one’s stomach and bubbles up through your throat.

Often we just laugh because we think we have to or to make ourselves or others feel good. But that moment when someone laughs and you can hear it is genuine and rippling through their body is absolutely magical. More joy is brought in one genuine body shaking laugh than in a days worth of loud plastic laughs.

Another wonderful thing about laughter is the uniqueness of every one. I mean, my Mum has a very loud cackling laugh that you can hear from a mile away, my Oupa had a Santa laugh (he literally went ‘ho, ho, ho!’), my older sister has a more subdued shake but when she really finds something hysterical, it tends to resemble my Mum’s… I have that laugh that, and I quote, ‘If you don’t quieten down, you’ll break the windows!’ My Ouma has a very cheeky laugh that resides in the back of her mouth that makes a sort of ‘tch, tch, tch’ sound. My Dad’s is just very loud, full and frequent. All of these laughs are different, crazy but bring joy to my heart whenever I hear them.

The whole revelation on the tramp made me think. When I laugh, is it genuine? Do I only really laugh for certain people? At certain times? Am I like a migrating duck, constantly flying, the same with everyone? Or like a butterfly (I had to use them somehow but hate using them in a negative context) resting every once in a while? What about you?

Over and out :D

 

Oh, and a very Merry Christmas to my trusty follower!!!

The Power of Words

Recently I was thinking about the power of something simple, something we take for granted; words. They are a very powerful thing, more powerful than we realise. Saying one sentence, or one word, can change the course of your life forever. Yes, I sound cliché but it is true.

Sticking with cliché, if a man proposes to a woman one word can alter (or altar :P) both their lives. Just a simple yes or no answer changes everything. Absolutely everything they know. Moving away from the cliché, I was recently faced with the decision to choose a new school. After ages of debating, I said one sentence that is going alter the path for me over the next few years. I was daunted by the decision for ages, but when the time came to make up my mind I was struck with the impact of my words.

The other huge impact of words is the absence of them. Keeping words from people that mean a lot to you hurts both you and them. Like the elephant in the room, something that everyone knows but doesn’t talk about it. It’s the keeping or hiding of words that impact more than the speaking of words. When you know something about someone that affects your life and theirs but they won’t and don’t talk to you about it hurts you more than you can describe. It’s the unspoken words that create awkward gaps between people, pulls people apart. (This connects with my last two posts).

I am a very blunt person; I say things how they are and try not to keep impacting things from people. But in saying that, I don’t go around telling everyone everything about me; I’m just not that kind of person. I believe that if you can help it, don’t keep things from people that might hurt them. If it is within your passable knowledge (My way of saying that what you know can be passed on) to say something to someone that may have an impact on their life, say it. Don’t hold back. What if that was you.  I was recently on the holding side of information by request (My knowledge was not passable) and it hurt me so much to keep that knowledge inside when I knew that it would impact this person’s life. It hurt them too, as they found out via someone else (Whose knowledge was passable) and they got confused.

When I saw that person next, I decided to tell them what I knew. I shared with them what I knew, how it hurt to keep it from them and listened to how me not sharing had hurt them. It was one of the hardest things I have ever done but I am so glad that I got it off my chest. I have taken the knife out of the wound but as with anything, it will take time for the wound to completely heal.

I’m pretty sure I wrote a poem on this a while ago… Nope, I haven’t. I’ll work on it. :)

Grown Apart

So, I promised that I'd write a poem on the spilting of friendships through personal experience. It was a tough poem to write, keeping the feeling but not blaming others. Anway, here it is

 

Grown Apart

You are the hub of the action,

The centrepiece of the conversation,

The one everyone wants to know,

The one everyone wants to talk to,

The one everyone wants to be around,

But suddenly it is gone.

No longer the hub of the action,

No longer the centrepiece of the conversation,

The one no one wants to know you,

The one no one wants to talk to,

The one no one wants to be around,

Suddenly you face a new reality.

Waltzing through the school gates,

Hugging every second soul,

Chatting about the weekend events,

Bouncing through the locker bay,

Reluctantly budged by the bell,

But suddenly it is changed.

Slouching through the school gates,

Hands shoved in blazer pockets,

Lips sealed and pulled taut,

Sliding through the locker bay,

Rushing before the bell,

Suddenly you face a new reality.

Weeks this continues,

Days last forever,

Emotionally drained,

Mentally frazzled,

The ice under your feet melting and cracked,

Your toes dip into the frozen water.

But enough is enough,

When you hit the bottom of the popularity chain,

Barely scraping through a school day,

Time comes to stand up,

To live through the pain,

To deny them the victory.

So you smile at the sight of them,

Smirk when they try to bring you down,

Force your way into new groups,

Laugh at new jokes,

When they whisper and point,

Walk away in victory.

At the end of this torture,

You realise the pain did not start,

When you felt it,

The pain was always there,

In the way that you restrained yourself from them,

You were never you with them.

You felt as though they knew you,

As if you could trust them,

But in the end you find that false,

They never knew you and never loved you,

Only ever used you for personal gain,

But for you it was for personal growth.

You find yourself now with many friends,

None as steady as before,

But all more genuine,

As if there was plastic suspended over your friendships,

And the breaking of one broke the plastic off the rest,

You find yourself as free as… as a butterfly.

 

 

I procrastinated...

Okay, so I have been procrastinating with the whole blog writing… I don’t know, it just kinda seemed pointless writing to nobody. Anyway, my mum asked me the other day if I had posted again and it sent me on a sort of a guilt trip so I decided to write again. Dad had a look at my blog briefly and the long post previously put him off… So I will try to keep it short.

I mentioned my book of poetry in the previous post right? Well, when I tell people about my book I introduce it as ‘The Book That Keeps Me Sane’ and it is true! I haven’t written in a while, I pick up pen and paper or my laptop and I just don’t have the mental energy to write and it is beginning to show through in my life. I am more irritable, day dream too much and am content with silence – which is not normal! Times have been challenging for me as of late; I have had a sudden involuntary change of friendship groups at school (a pc way of saying that I was ditched and am floating between groups), sport season has ended leaving me with nothing to do and, get this, we might be moving soon! Mix all of that with holidays, a light cold and not writing and you have one emotional teen slogging around the house.

Ok, this feels really weird. Writing to an audience of none. Posting into cyber space and knowing that you’re the only one reading it… Well, hopefully I’ll get at least one reader soon!

I was just thinking about the whole ‘involuntary change of friendship groups’ thing, many teens go through that right? My bestie says that it is a very common thing in high school (If you read this girl, be proud for the shout out!!!). I believe that she said something along the lines of ‘Year 9 is the year that you meet the friends you think will be your friends for high school, Year 10 is the year that you find out they aren’t an Year 11 is the year you find the real ones.’ It may be true, I’ll have to tell you in year twelve if it works. Ah, I got side-tracked. I will put some thought into the ditched thing (I’m over this pc way of writing) and will write a poem and get back to you guys about it (I love how I talk to plural when there’s not even one reader…). I think it is an issue that we all face and we all need to know how to conquer.

Shew, look at the time! I’m off before my hide gets skinned!!! (Excuse my South African expressions)

What to write...

I sat and pondered about what to write here for ages but I eventually decided on writing on why I opened this blog. I am starting this blog to not only keep my sanity intact but also to hopefully encourage other people going through similar situations as me to keep going and to find your passion in life. I am an avid writer, generally opting to emotional poetry. I write when I am emotional so many of my work ends up being very depressive or heavy. I hope that through this blog I will learn to write no matter what is going on in my heart. I am also an encourager by heart; it is difficult in this sarcastic day and age to be an encouraging teenager but that is what I hope to achieve; to encourage you through my writing. What exactly I will write about will change from day to day; whether I write about a significant event, or about a topic that is on my heart. How I will write will also change, free-style like now or in some form of poetry depending on the topic and my mood. It is my first blog so bare with me.

So, why Butterfly Diaries? The name of a blog should give you a hint of what it’s about without telling you anything of what is written.  It should set the scene of the story without giving you the plot. Ever since I was little I have been fascinated by butterflies. I would stroll around at school during lunch and gaze at the graceful creatures resting on the swan plants. Monarch butterflies have always been my favourite, I don’t know why though. Probably because they’re the only type I know the name of! Come to think of it, my favourite butterflies to sit and watch are those delicate white ones. You know the ones. They always look so feminine, free and joyful. Butterflies for me are very graceful and romantic; I could sit and watch them for hours. To be honest, they remind me of myself. I am a free floater. Now I made myself sound hippie… Let me explain. I float through life, between different people, in different places hoping to be that little white butterfly; brightening their moment with a smile. I am a short projects person, love adventure and can’t stay in the same place too long; a true butterfly. So, seeing as I love butterflies and this is sort of an online diary, Butterfly Diaries was born. Butterfly Diaries is a blog about life’s ups and downs and how this butterfly floats through them.

I am going to post one of the poems in my writing book because it is very relevant to this post. Ironically, it was the first recreational poem I wrote, the very first in my book.

A Clean Page – 9/1/2011

 

This page was white,

Clean with fine black lines,

But now it has symbols,

Shapes we call letters,

That we use to form words,

All over my clean white page.

 

It had me dumbfounded,

What to put on this page?

Do I actually want to spoil its cleanliness?

Yes, I do, but what with?

What’s worth writing down?

What to keep and what to throw away.

 

I looked at this page,

The beautiful white page,

And my mind went for a wander,

My imagination caught fire,

The page first looked like a bed sheet,

Next, like a pool of ice.

 

But lastly, like an opportunity,

To explore the written world,

A world sparked by words,

That sets pictures off in your head,

But that’s what words really are,

Shapes that bring a memory or picture to mind.

 

This page was beautifully clean before,

But now it is sprinkled with wonder.