And you give really good hugs. Did you know that? Well, I’ll never tell you unless we end up together. But you do. And calling out good-bye with my name tagged on, making sure to say it…I’m so frustrated with myself! I’m afraid that I seem like Jane, from “Pride and Prejudice”, stand-offish, seeming friendly but absolutely uninterested; when in fact I’m quite eager to have you say something, anything, clarify, do more than test the waters! Which is really such a change for me, and shows my growth over the last year, really; because I used to be more than obvious about any crush, flirt shamelessly, and leave no doubt to anyone that I liked so-and-so…but now, I’m not sure that you’ll pursue me (if you’re interested) because I might appear cold to you. Oh! But I’m not! I quite enjoy your company, I want to get to know you much better, I’d love to hear your inner thoughts and have you seek out the mysteries in me. I hope you’re my fairy-tale…

And I did not think that I would feel–of all things!–giddy when you walked in, sat down, and I knew you’d ask me again…and then to hear myself saying “next time”, a promise slipping out like a fish through a stream and down into this ocean of mysteries upon the shore of which I’ve never set foot. I think that’s more than a little piece of why I’m so bubbly over you…the mystery of it, the fact that I barely know you, only know you’re a son who spends a night a week with his mother to honor and love her, a man like his father who jokes and teases, determined so far as I’ve seen, persistent, and humorous.

So I don’t know how natural I acted tonight or what strange winds possessed me…I know “natural” for me when I’m around you is a combination of embarrassed laughs, shivering, blushing, and stammers…so I guess I’d go with the strange winds for tonight after all, because instead I smiled at you, walked over, and responded exactly in the way you’d been asking. And it felt GREAT! And all that, when I had this lingering fear that once I said ‘yes’ to the small and totally appropriate (if unorthodox) request you kept making, you’d not spare a second glance for me, because the chase would be done. But then you asked my name…and circled around with questions to give you my age…and laughed with me. And left me in this euphoric haze of an evening, with my coworker and dear friend (same person) giving me a look and wondering what all that was about, even though it was all quite obvious…because…I think you like me.

“Dear Miss” it read
“I cannot endure this any longer. Though we have known one another for a comparatively short time in the grand scheme that is our thus far separate lives, I cannot continue this friendship without telling you that I bear a growing attraction and fondness for you. I want to know the essence of you, the things that are under the surface, mysterious and subliminal to every one else. Increasingly, I find myself thinking of you, and resort to silence and labor to drive these sweet distractions from my mind…nevertheless, they will not be driven out! I am fiercely glad when you and I share our thoughts, spanning the distance we so rarely cross; and in those times that I do not speak with you, it is because I fear the pursuit (I am a hunter; the tendencies surface when ever I wish to gain) will leave me breathless and lost, finding my prize has fled–or worse, I shall be wounded fatally. But these I put aside and offer you my strength, my innate masculinity and individuality. I ask you to unveil your beauty, join with me in adventuring for a time, and let come what will. I am irrevocably resolved in this, and shall persist until the answers I seek are revealed.”
“Yours, ——”

As the woman read his missive, heart in her throat, she knew that she could desire no other promise but this, that things might be allowed to grow, chances be taken together in friendship until the juncture where a final decision might be made, and that she be sought after–mysterious and yielding by turns, weaving sense and transparency to create a delicate balance. She took up her pen, set it to paper, and wrote…

And they lived, learned, struggled, enjoyed, and who knows if they’ll live happily ever after? “Ever after” is a long way away, after all.

And the truth is, a lot of girls do this. Travel out of the present and into what they hope (or think they hope) will happen, whether it be wondering when he’ll ask her out or traveling in their mind’s eye to where the hypothetical relationship gets serious, whether it’s going to work out because life goals are similar/compatible, or fail because all of it’s a daydream and he hasn’t asked in the first place.

It’s all because the woman feels like she needs to wait until the guy pursues her, and wants to know exactly how interested he is…and I think that’s all well-and-good, because girls oughtn’t to throw themselves at men, and I’m all for a woman biding her time in order to determine how much value he recognizes in her as a person, how he cherishes, how he seeks her out and draws her in…the thrill of that sort of hunt is for both the hunter and his quarry. I don’t understand much about these matters, but it sure is frustrating to wait and see when my head’s already miles ahead. So I’ll rein in those oh-so-presumptuous thoughts and have some self-respect. It’s up to you whether you’ll chase me or not, but I wish I could at least tell you I were willing.

(That last sentence caused me to research whether using “were” in that context was correct. It is; and now I’ve learned much more about grammar regarding the subjunctive and conditional verb forms. Isn’t it sad that we English speakers know so little about how our language works and how to use words to best effect? I would like to remedy this, in my own situation at least. Okay, rant’s over. [seriously, though, I cringe when I use 'good' where I should use 'well', and how many people can explain why one would use were or was in a certain place in either speech or writing?] Now I’m really done.)

Amazing how a stomach can do so many things. Now it’s a pit, and the butterflies dance wildly trying to elude its void. My mother told me that the stomach lining secretes our emotions, and that’s why things of this nature happen. It’s why fear or disgust or anger can make you vomit or feel sick, it’s why people tie food to their feelings, it’s why in my time of nerves when my roommate cooks eggs, they smell like mushrooms. Okay, maybe not that last one, but I crave mushrooms when I’m nervous. Or when I’m happy. Or sad, average, excited, mellow…any time, really. I love mushrooms.

I think I know one thing that would calm this. Your music. Mine’s not doing it, and pouring these words out hardly helped, but if you and I shared the same space, I’d ask for a song…and I hope you’d oblige. Though I’m hardly sure, because you’ve just gone offline without a word. And suddenly, my insides are soothed. I guess I’m allergic to you. What’s that mean for this interest, I wonder? Figure it out; it’s your decision, after all.

Then I felt the hollowness of frustration, not in you, but my own actions were in the truest sense frustrating my intent. I’d open my mouth a fraction too late, approach to engage only to see you–unseeing–walk away, and a surge of wondering would hit. Did I imagine the seeming desperation at our circumstance, the word you spoke to validate a simple phrase as someone else spoke, too? Did I deceive myself with what I thought was interest, this last fortnight while we’ve shared thoughts and truths?

Finally you were about to leave–time cut short, my brother and fond friend leaving, and I still hadn’t spoken. Finally, I did! Opened my mouth and sounded slightly normal, as though I were unaffected by the butterflies which have attacked me since this March in every conversation we have held, unaware of the smile that beams bright in my eyes and curves in my lips, slipping into laughter at silent times, ambivalent to the puzzle and the giddy upset of my thoughts. I didn’t say anything life-changing, and neither did you. I wasn’t polished or loquacious, on the contrary! I felt awkward, gangly in speech…but you didn’t seem to mind. And then we said good-bye!

I really hope you don’t think now that I’m a fool. I hope that everything I thought was true, is. I don’t know what to say…again, I have butterflies. ‘Cause you’re online.

What if I choose to remain a child in these few ways? Let everything be possible, even though the world has tried to say it’s not. Pick myself up when I fall and say “It’s okay, Mama, it’s just a scratch. I’ll be all right, but a hug would help.” Ask the questions I want to ask, and it’s no big deal if the answer is ‘no’ because there’s another question I can find the answer to, another way to understand, a new thing to learn.

What if instead of flinging myself from the sky prematurely in a white blaze of night-piercing glory, I shine fixed among all the other stars and learn their steadfastness, waiting until it IS time to streak across the sky and leave a brief imprint of wishing and being and purpose, or burst in supernova at the end of this life and venture into what heaven really holds?

What if this laughter shared between he and I, the similarities and unique strangeness, the long talks and learning about one another so freely and innocently, becomes something beyond even this scope of imagination–something otherworldly, extraordinary, radiant? What if this is a turning point, a place where ‘I’ and ‘he’ choose ‘we’ and let this budding friendship ripen, like a carefully tended flower or thought, and surprise everyone with the conclusion? How sweet and poignant–how devoutly I’d engage, how certainly we’d tread, how marvelous! …

I can only hope, and be content with the abundance I have now, the trials and growth I already face. This is my life; I’m living it!

“Falling Fast” is the lead single from Australian Singer/Producer Shoeb Ahmad’s debut solo record, ‘Watch/Illuminate’. It is a haunting four minute slice of ambient dream pop based on a neat repetitive bass line, muttered vocals and the odd splash of uplifting colourful chords as the arrangement progresses. Repeated listens certainly reap benefits, as the vocals become more apparent and the hooks start to dig in. “Falling Fast” is an enthralling enough mood piece in its own right, but as the lead track on ‘Watch/Illuminate’, we are interested to see how the ideas contained within this soundscape progress within the context of the entire record.

Shoeb Ahmad is making his debut trip to the UK in June 2012 and it will be fascinating to see how his sound translates to a live setting.

Review by: @tvermar

Genre: Contemporary

First Impression: Cute

Synopsis: When River auditions for a part in an interschool performance of Romeo and Juliet, she finds herself smitten by Flynn, the boy playing Romeo. But Flynn comes from a damaged family—is he even capable of giving River what she wants? The path of true love never did run smooth.
This is real life, not a rehearsal…

200 words (or less) review: This is the first book I’ve read by Sophie McKenzie and I wish I had started with Girl, Missing instead. The book is well written, short and a nice way to spend a few hours on a Sunday but that’s about all.

Flynn’s character is hard to like at times but with the progression of the story you get to understand the reasons more and I was willing to forgive some of his quirks. I still struggled with River’s crush for him and her understanding nature. Then again maybe that’s just me – I cheered when she finally stood up to Flynn.

My friends have been raving about Sophie McKenzie and I will definitely be reading Girl, & Sister, Missing some time in the future.

You can download “Acting Friends” (prequel to Falling Fast) for free here.

Recommend it?

Not sure.

But right now…right now I’m just waiting. Waiting for you to walk into my life and make a single ripple that never smooths out, strike a chord that never dies down, be that one who shatters all my presuppositions and superstitions and silly ideals by being…exactly who God made you.

Click Here for the file.

Love you Steph, xox