Danielle Sophia Raffaele's Articles

Are You Playing the Game and Following All the Rules?

2010-10-02T00:12:00.001-07:00

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Publication Details: The Bull, pp. 28-29, edition 6, 2010, University of Sydney Union.

Magazine Archive:

http://www.usuonline.com/Publications/The_Bull/2010_Editions.aspx?t=1

Article's Extended (original) Version:

A common way we find ourselves behaving around a subject of interest is not usually how we act around our friends. This doesn’t go for everyone, but more often than not we seem to abide by a formula on how to act around someone we like in order to maximise the results in our favour. This is usually called game playing. There are many types of games out there, and chances are you have either been the subject of one, or a gamer yourself. Whether this be purposely not replying to a text message straight away (anything sooner and you are a desperate, socially retarded fool) or stalking their Facebook page to find out all their favourite books and movies and then subtly regurgitating them later. Game playing is so apparent that it is considered ‘normal’ when communicating to your subject of interest, and today we are finding more and more ways to perfect this art of attraction. Let me introduce you to a few self-help titles, ‘The Rules: Time-tested secrets for capturing the heart of Mr Right’ by Ellen Fein and Sherrie Schneider, ‘He’s Just Not That into You’ by Greg Behrendt and Liz Tuccillo, and ‘The Game: Penetrating the Secret Society of Pick-up Artists’ by Neil Strauss. What these books aim to do is equip you with a set of qualities that are supposed to make you attractive to and knowledgeable about the opposite sex and thus get what you want. Whether they make you utterly desirable because you are always unobtainable, cluey on ‘specific’ body language that shows you he is or isn’t interested, or prime you up as a smooth charmer who speaks in a way to make every woman swoon. The problem here is that the books not only imply every man and woman acts and reacts in the same way, but that they ask you to suddenly stop behaving like you normally would and embody another “successful” persona. On the surface these titles might work for a period, but when its time to get to know someone truly, the genuineness is somewhat lost in a pool of pick-up lines and rejected phone calls. If you are basing your relationship with someone on fake grounds, how are you supposed to truly get to know them once you’ve ‘got them’? What do you have to communicate with each other once the façade ends? You fail to meet the person for who they are, and you fail to let them see you. Let’s reverse this: if a girl only goes out with you because she was stupid enough to fall for your lame one-liner, or if a guy is only into you because he loved the chase, what does that say about them, and more importantly what do they see in you? There are handfuls of games people play on each other, and from my experience they all tend to roughly fall into two main categories: the ‘Hard to Get’ and the ‘Trying too Hard’. I’ve met a bunch of interesting people who fit somewhere on this spectrum, playing games under their own set of fabricated rules based on assumptions and ideals that are all contradictory to each other.

Lets meet Genna. I sat next to her on the bus a few months ago while she was chatting away, quite audibly, to her friend on her mobile phone (it didn’t take much exertion to eaves drop). She was discussing a guy she recently met at Uni and what I heard went something like this: “We just hung out and he suggested to meet up again on Thursday and the weekend. Isn’t that a bit keen? Shouldn’t we wait at least a week to see each other again? Isn’t it better to meet during Uni time? He replies to my messages straight away, he didn’t even wait a few hours, and he added me on Facebook straight away. He’s really nice, but isn’t he a bit too keen?” Genna is a classic example of someone who seems to abide by a set of rules when communicating with a love interest. Why is it that when someone simply replies to your text after a small amount of time, they are considered “too keen”? Generally I would see it as nothing but polite or considerate. It seems Genna thinks this guy is trying too hard instead of playing hard to get. It occurred to me she didn’t even think that he might just be acting like he does all the other time, and not attuning himself around her eggshells. The ‘treat them mean, keep them keen’ idea seems relevant here with how she expects this poor guy to act. Wouldn’t she rather be with someone who treated her genuinely and with respect? As for her strange rules: why must they wait a week to see each other again? Is she applying the ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’ belief instead of an unthought organic approach? Why is it that we get so caught up in ‘how to behave’ instead of going with what feels right? We worry about stuffing it up, about appearing like freaks, so we keep it cool, on the down low, uninterested. This disinterest might be saving us from heartbreak, but to the person who might be interested in us, we leave them little rope to hang onto. While they are trying to get to know you, you’re too busy playing it cool to seem more desirable. This just stunts the natural process of meeting someone, and lets face it, being on the receiving end of a game isn’t very pleasant. While the other might feel they have the ‘ball in their court’, you lay quietly dying. Paranoia and self-consciousness begin to drown your head and little does the gamer know, but they are instilling mix messages of dislike and mistrust in you. And yet we all soldier on like this is ok, like this is how men and women are expected to treat each other. You wouldn’t act this way to your friends, and this is someone you hope to have a relationship with. Think about it. It is ludicrous. It is almost taboo to reply straight away or to send someone an sms when they are on your mind. Its sad that we feel too vulnerable, too scared of being hurt by someone to make such a simple gesture. If your subject of interest cannot handle a sincere, “Hey, what are you up to?” without making outlandish assumptions about you, like Genna does, then maybe you should reconsider your attraction. If you feel like sending them a message, then just do it. Be true to how you feel, a genuine person will respond kindly.

Game playing euphemisms are everywhere when it comes to dating. I caught up with an acquaintance the other day at Uni, Greg, who was telling me why he dated a mutual friend even though he wasn’t very interested in her. His response to my “why?” was “well I figured I didn’t have anyone else on the cards”. Enough for Greg, I suspect, until he gets dealt a better hand. My friend Tully has recently begun dating a girl, Julia, who she absolutely adores. Tully then admitted to me that Julia does so much for her without reason nor occasion, like a lovely dinner in the city or a bunch of flowers after work. Tully sighed and said she should do better herself, and that she needed to “up her game”. Without even intending to refer to game playing, there it is dormant in our everyday linguistics.

Cassandra said that if she gave a man her number she would like him to wait at least five days for him to call her otherwise he would seem desperate. I ask how is that fair? Why is it that labels get preference over someone’s true intentions? Maybe he just wanted to call to say hi. Maybe those who see ‘desperateness’ are not so confident themselves? Those who play games expect them to be played in return otherwise there is something ‘wrong’. You might ask about personal space. Not calling someone for reasons of giving them space is different to not calling them to avoid seeming ‘too keen’. The difference is based on the context of the situation, the individuals and the personalities. People set their own boundaries naturally once they get to know each other; it isn’t fair to preset circumstances on a ‘universal’ system that supposedly applies to everyone. What these books do, and what game playing does, steps over all of this leaving you highly out of touch with reality.

Larry is a good example of the type of guy who thinks pick-up lines actually work. His game theory is that if he approaches you with relentless attention you will eventually want him. That’s right, the classic try-hard. All you have to do is say something nice to him and he will assume you are hitting on him. His game techniques include such things as asking you questions and then re-using your answers as suggestions for things to do together. He’s the type of guy who will find out you like to dance and then invite you to every club in the city. This phoney approach is not only a massive turn-off but it shows how little effort he is actually making to get to know you. Don’t get me wrong; he is making effort, just not the type that intuitively sits very well. It makes you question whether he is interested in ‘me’ or ‘the idea of me’. If Larry tried to talk to you as a person, instead of to your gender, he might have been more appealing and thus given the chance to have a decent conversation with over coffee. Sadly for him, his games signposted his superficial intentions and lead him astray.

The game Giorgio plays is similar to Larry’s, although on a macro scale. At one time, he will be trying his ‘charm’ on as many girls as he can. My friend Phil calls this the ‘fishing net’ theory, where Giorgio casts his net out on all the ‘fish in the sea’ and takes whatever he manages to reel in. It will work for him at times, but other than his current girlfriend, they never usually last very long. Probably because Giorgio treats his love interests as ‘potential girlfriends’ and not as the people who they are. These boys are deluded in thinking the try-hard approach works. They couldn’t be more mistaken.

It is funny how much we read into simple gestures and assume so much about them without having the full story, like Genna with her outlandish assumptions from a few texts and a 'friend acceptance'. Not to mention the waiting; I can’t imagine how much angst has been spilt over the lacking tone of an empty inbox or for the gratifying pop of a red notification flag. I watched the film ‘He’s Just Not That Into You’ last night and, beyond my usual avoidance of rom-coms, actually quite enjoyed it. Each character possessed something vulnerable I think we can each relate to, for it highlighted just how much each of us wants affection from someone in our own way. We are all so ready to receive affection, to receive that message or wall post, but at the same time we’re not dishing it out. We all have a sense of fear and insecurity of being hurt, so we act frivolous to avoid appearing like we are too interested, too involved, or might actually care. Maybe if we were all honest with how we felt, we might all get a bit of what we want. I’m not saying it won’t be messy or awful or heartbreaking, but at least it will be real. My friend Lucy’s wise words ring true here, “Everyone wants to be honest but nobody’s doing it. Don’t think about fucking it up and just do it. You are fucking it up by thinking about it.”

Game playing ruins our chances of spontaneity. “The Rules” book will tell you not to accept a date on Saturday if it was asked after Wednesday because this will imply you have nothing organised which therefore makes you pathetic. But what if you haven’t got anything organised? What’s wrong with that? Is it better to be a partying-hard weekend diva than honest? What about if you are itching to send that someone a “hey” because they are on your mind, “The Rules” book will tell you to avoid this at all costs. Make him come to you, it says, make him work for you so you know how much he wants you. “The Game” book tells a man to pick his “target” (the woman) once he enters the room, talk to all her friends while ignoring her, and then, to redeem himself, apologise for not paying her much attention and take her aside for some special attention. I mean, seriously, this makes me sick. Game playing is sneaky, testing and dishonest. It also stunts any opportunity of living life ‘in the moment’, of enjoying those little unexpected pleasures that get thrown at you sporadically. When you’re too busy trying to be unavailable you could ruin the chance of a great time.

I can’t count how often I have heard the “What do you think it means?” when referring to a love interest’s action (or lack of). It seems cruel to play with someone and unhealthy to manipulate your situation. Lucy opened me up to the concept of not playing games. She says they don’t work when you’re really trying to communicate with someone. One evening I was chatting to her, flustered about what to do with this guy I was interested in. She told me, “Jut talk to him, he’s on your mind. Its how you honestly feel. You can’t deny it so embrace it.” And she was right. We can’t deny how we feel about someone, and nothing we do is going to change how he or she feels about us - they either like you or they don’t. Waiting three days to reply to their Facebook wall post is pointless, my friend. The Swell Season’s lyrics come to mind: “Games that never amount to more than they’re meant will play themselves out.” It seems we use games to hide our true intentions or feelings. I can empathise with this, we all feel a little vulnerable at times, but in the end, to the intellectual eye they are nothing but transparent.

With all this said, honest communication is sometimes easier said than done. I completely understand that we all have trouble communicating with the opposite (or same) sex, in fact, I don’t know a single person who doesn’t. I’m not saying these books don’t help people gain confidence, because I know they do. That is why they have been so successful. What I am saying is that they delude people and encourage the need for acts of dishonesty and manipulation. These aspects of the books are what I’m arguing against. I totally disagree with their endorsement of rules in pretending and denying, and this is what I’m essentially addressing in every example. We need to acknowledge how we delude ourselves about the opposite sex, whether through books or through our own heads, and from this gain some awareness and hopefully make a conscious change. In the end, above all the normal fears of rejection and vulnerable angst, I still believe “honesty is the best policy”. Like I said, if a person is going to freak out over a, “Hey, wanna grab a coffee tomorrow?” then maybe you should reconsider your choice. A decent person will be honest with you whether they want you or not, and not string you along until all your hair is clawed out. I leave you with one of my favourite received text messages (although its more cute than anything): “My pen broke. Wanna go shopping with me for a new one?”

Complaining Companionship: an Unholy Alliance

2010-07-04T05:19:00.000-07:00

Complaining. A type of expression within each of us that, from childhood, our parents warn us to never succumb to. Indeed it is true. No one wants to hear children, be that anyone, share their mundane whining publicly. Complaining as children shows an element of ungratefulness that our parents hope to rid us of as we slowly discover, as sad as it is, that the world does not actually revolve around us. Today, as practically adults now, we have no one to pull us up on behaviour that sometimes appears uncouth to everyone else but ourselves. Without this guidance we become solely responsible for our mannerisms and are often not so self-aware. I’m sure you can agree with me in expressing the pain of being stuck with a whinger while having to feign sympathy for something you could really care less about. Perhaps our parents were right in advising us against complaining, it is after all, quite irritating and pathetic. Taking this on board it seems best not to whine out loud because, even though something might seem crucial to your daily existence (such as your phone dying or your belt breaking) it is totally trivial to someone else; and so it would be ideal to avoid appearing like an ungrateful, self-centred downer. This has been my general opinion about people who feel the need to impose their pitiable case-scenarios or impatience onto me. However a change of heart has occurred recently when being confronted with a positive aspect of complaining I didn’t think to be possible: friendship making.
Adina was an exchange student at our Uni last year from Chicago. She was a lovely vivid girl who always seemed to sustain a positive outlook to life. This was easy to tell, for instance, when being thousands of kilometres away from her strict Indian parents, she went and got herself a very visible tattoo on her forearm. Further, she faced what appeared to be her impending doom with a mere shrug and a smile and saying, “I’ll deal with it when it comes”. And so, this positive carefree girl introduced me to the idea of the benefits of complaining. Taking me to her chic yet affordable apartment in Haymarket, she retold the tale of how she came about renting it. At first what seemed an impossible feat in finding residence in our CBD, one day while lining up in a shop she met Lady Luck. The que was apparently taking a ridiculous amount of time so she felt it necessary to comment on this to a stranger also waiting next to her. They shared their common angst in having to wait and, to cut the story short, she moved into the spare room of her complaining companion’s flat and they became best friends. Now sure, you could put it down to chance that they met, but if it wasn’t for complaining the girls would have never spoken to each other.
Perhaps complaining, though deplorable, is a great icebreaker. Being this as it may, I wouldn’t necessarily recommend using it as a technique to approach that good-looking person who sits next to you in lectures, because if that good-looking person was me, I would judge you as contemptible. My friend from Chicago, on the other hand, was lucky to meet another whinger like herself, and this got me thinking. Perhaps there are many more complainers out there than the anti-nitpickers like myself.
Jane is famous for her complaints, and she openly acknowledges this quality about herself. You would think expressing dissatisfaction in person would be enough for someone to upheave their torment, but not for this girl. Bumping into her last semester she spoke in passing of how she had recently created her very own Twitter account. Holding back laughter I asked her what the hell she could possibly be inspired to write (tweet) about. She replied, “I complain mostly… usually about work.” She, like many more I presume, are the initiators of bringing this measly form of expression into the modern dialogues of e-communication. What could be found on Jane’s Twitter page was that her Twitter associates often partook in commenting on her complaints and sharing back and forth each other’s misery on topics like annoying customers and long hours. And, somehow, their friendships were better for it. What is it about complaining that draws people together? Perhaps in cases that are not so trivial it gives us a chance to empathise with a friend or stranger, and acknowledge that we share a mutual ground. It creates trust amongst two people if one can see the other’s ability to listen and ‘be there’. It seems the saying ‘if you want to create a friendship with someone, find a common enemy’ fits perfectly here.
What was mostly disappointing about Jane’s tweeting was not just the complaining itself, but that it was banal and uneventful. But is this much of a surprise? How could we expect anything less from such a lowly form of expression? When has complaining ever come across as witty, interesting and full of flair? Well here’s a word for you: Seinfeld. This ingenious sitcom is based on complaining itself and highlights so cleverly how ridiculous the petty things we worry so much about are. Whether the characters are there listening to Elaine’s disappointment at a restaurant menu for not offering a big salad (‘The Soup’), or Jerry’s whining about how the rain destroyed his new suede jacket (‘The Jacket’), or dealing with the consequences of Kramer’s extreme frustration at the red neon light engulfing his apartment from the chicken shop across the road (‘The Chicken Roaster’), or even George’s complaints about missing the opportunity to fall in love with Marisa Tomei (‘The Cadillac’); the complaining is the glue that holds this quartet’s friendship together episode after episode. Although it seems important to note here that the four friends are jailed in the final episode for demonstrating continual acts of selfishness, and even then they pay more attention to the trivial things around them, like George’s shirt buttons, rather than the more important things in life, such as the obvious fact that they are in jail.
But I’m not here to speak of how complaining can stun us from looking at the broader picture in life, which it does; no that’s for your parents (or now yourself!) to enlighten you on. What appears to be an interesting pattern of communication is so much more widespread than what appears at first glance. Complaining is so inbred in normal conversation that it is almost indiscernible, and plays a vital role in any given discussion. Just perve on a loud conversation next time you’re on a bus/train or awaiting class to start. Or even, notice it within yourself and how it adds to the warmth and goodness you feel when your acquaintance reciprocates with an “Oh my God, I know!”. Complaining exists in every friendship we have, and to consciously aim for its removal would be an abstract utopia lacking the most valued articulation we partake in (you might even to tempted to suggest it is the very thing you are currently reading- a complaint about complaining. Although, I would disagree). Complaining is a friendship builder, even though the foundation is not one of nobility and virtue, and perhaps you can meet the most interesting people by expressing your distaste to them. Who knows, give it a go. Here’s one: “How screwed up is this weather at the moment! I never know whether to wear shorts or bring a jumper to Uni, and when I do one or the other it always works against me!” We all love to indulge in it sometimes, so perhaps its time, if you haven’t already, to join in the sickly pleasure everyone seems to get off on. We all rebel against our parents eventually. A loss of dignity, but a gain in friendship. A fair compromise.

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Publication Details: The Bull, p. 19, edition 4, 2010, University of Sydney Union

Magazine Archive:

http://www.usuonline.com/Publications/The_Bull/2010_Editions.aspx?t=1

Catastrophe, Anyone?

2009-11-27T21:57:00.000-08:00

2012. Need I say any more for disaster to flood your mind? A few years ago not many people you met would have known its significance but now the date of impending doom is saturated in popular culture. The internet is a nesting ground for panic-stricken individuals who have nothing better to do than follow the scientifically and contemporary Mayan-denounced theory. Facebook, Twitter and websites (such as the overly-presumptuous self-titled 2012thetruth.com) are now bursting at the seams and what was once subtle in the consumer market is now not shy of the spotlight. With its release this month, 2012 serves the familiar Hollywood’s-protagonists’-immunity-to-death formula but still does its job of instilling paranoia (all my nails have been bitten off) where Sydney has now jumped the bandwagon. The Duststorm brought the ridiculous “Doomsday” headline and my mother’s fears of the Rapture into full-swing and a friend is even in preparation for her End of The World party.
But hang on. Isn’t this all a bit too soon? Sure the hype has been a long-time coming but no where near as close to how it was for the Y2K, Killer Bees or Switzerland’s re-making of the Big Bang. Can we not wait another three years for our ‘hit’ of sensationalism? Are our lives really that boring without a catastrophic finale in sight? Will it eventually fizzle out by the time 21-Dec-2012 arrives or just grow bigger? Will a war break out between the believers and the Anti-Endites or is this just another excuse to spend and party hard? Frustrating as it may be, we have two options: either shake our heads at the ignorance of our trend-loving companions or join the party and console them on Dec 22nd with the reassurance that “at least we have Christmas to look forward to now...”

© Danielle Sophia Raffaele
Written November 2009

References:
"Daily Telegraph gets hysterical over the dust storm"
http://brendanwong.wordpress.com/2009/09/24/daily-telegraph-gets-hysterical-over-the-dust-storm/

Santa vs Jesus

2009-11-27T21:53:00.000-08:00

One man’s mythology is another man’s livelihood, and with Christmas day on its way the two big-shots battle it out for the limelight. In one corner we have Santa (a.k.a Kris Kringle, Father Christmas or St. Nick) and in the other we have Jesus (a.k.a Son of God, Christ or the Messiah). Both share an influential past and today are blown to the proportion of global stardom as icons for two of the world’s most powerful institutions: religion and capitalism. Sydney sits on the fence as the year’s end arrives- who will win the crowd over this December? Are we leaning more to Santa now that a trial to change scripture into ethical classes has begun in primary schools? I do doubt any chance of a Jesus character entering stage left instead of Santa at our annual Carols in the Domain, nor do I see nativity scenes replacing baby Jesus with mangers of cash.

As a consuming society we don’t rest lightly on preparing for the big day. A friend who works at David Jones told me she screamed when she unpacked Christmas stock in August. Sadly this doesn’t surprise me. Perhaps this over-preparation, not to mention the Godzilla Christmas tree in the QVB (already twinkling by early November), has cottoned-on to Team Jesus and the recently-launched ‘All-About-Life’ campaign. While this many-dollar effort sells Jesus as the answer to “What about sunburn?”, Team Santa sits laughing as children bow down to worship. Let’s face it, the Santa Claus Christmas is a religion of it own holding almost all western children captive. There is the belief in a supernatural figure who can see you when you’re sleeping, knows when you’re awake, knows when you’ve been bad or good “so be good for goodnessake!” (see, it even has the threat element that weighs upon the believers every day before and after Christmas. Parents even use this against their misbehaving children to instill morals through fear. “You better watch out” indeed). This Santa can also magically travel to every single house in one night, has an invisible workshop full of elves in the North Pole (which is scientifically disproved) and children write him letters with requests (like prayers)- How is this not a religion?

But more importantly who is Sydney’s favourite idol? Perhaps we need a voting line and someone ‘charismatic’ like Andrew G to start the hype. Think of the uproar from within the church… oh but wouldn’t Coke be happy? I just feel sorry for Mithra, the Zoroastrian god, who should really have the glory as it was his birthday first. Instead we’ll be blowing out candles for Jesus and thanking Santa for more things we don't really need.

Merry Christmas Everyone.

© Danielle Sophia Raffaele
Written November 2009

References:
'Jesus All About Life' Website http://www.jesusallaboutlife.com.au/
'Jesus All About Life' TV Comercial http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4-jGnTQDQj4

The Death and (Maybe) Revival of Chivalry

2009-08-01T05:56:00.000-07:00

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Publication Details: The Bull, p. 13, Women's Edition, September 21- October 4, 2009, University of Sydney Union.

Magazine Archive: http://www.usuonline.com/Publications/The_Bull/2009_Editions.aspx?t=1

Deluding Another

2009-07-04T05:54:00.000-07:00

Its funny how easy it is to delude yourself with the idea of someone. You spend time with them, you grow to like them and then without even knowing it you begin to manifest all these notions about them that probably don’t exist. You only realise they’re not as wonderful as you thought they were when they do something that hurts you. Be it a callous remark, an inconsiderate action (or inaction) or simply a disregard of your feelings, bit by bit you get a little bruised and wonder why they do it. Soon the pieces of sweet comments and gestures that were forming the puzzle of ‘wonderful’ in your mind begin to fall apart and you’re left feeling ridiculous and vulnerable.

Why do we do it? Why do we delude ourself with a misperception when they’re being all they are right in front of us? What inspires our mind to elaborate into such heights all on its very own? A wise person in my life told me that we sometimes create and delude ourself with certain qualities of someone when they’re the qualities we currently need in our life. This makes perfect sense to me. When you’re needing affection, consideration and enthusiasm perhaps it’s easier to think or hope he or she is ready to give them to you rather than facing the cold slap of reality.

Whether they are your friend, crush or partner, maybe its time to look a little closer into why they are staying in your life. You can hum all your want to ‘Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea’, but like the song, you’re not getting anywhere. Its hurtful to think of your life without them, but if they’re not willing to hear you, and I mean HEAR you, and are not prepared to say sorry without a “but” or an explanation to go with it nor prepared to make it up to you after they’ve truly acknowledged your disappointment then perhaps you need to ask yourself what kind of a friend is this? Another close person in my life told me that friends are not meant to bring you down, disregard you or make you cry, they’re there to support, enrich and listen to what’s important to you. Just because a friend doesn’t see something as important as you do, doesn’t mean it isn’t. A true friend would embrace your differences no matter how far an ocean they are apart. It’s the care for each other that hold you, not necessarily your similar state of being. Whether he or she is too proud or reluctant to show a little humility towards you or your infatuation keeps leaving you with sores I think its high time you start to question your priorities in what you want as a friend and thus a partner.
Sometimes you need to be selfish to save yourself.

© Danielle Sophia Raffaele
Written 04/07/2009

Between The Devil and The Deep Blue Sea
original lyrics by Harold Arlen

I don't want you
But I hate to lose you
You got me in between the devil and the
deep blue sea

I forgive you
'Cause I can't forget you
You've got me in between the devil and the
deep blue sea

I want to cross you off my list
But when you come knocking at my door
Fate seems to give my heart a twist
And I come running back for more

I should hate you
But I guess I love you
You've got me in between the devil and the
deep blue sea

The Worlds in Us

2009-05-24T00:01:00.000-07:00

If you’re anything like me I’m sure you’ve had enough of hearing about the wonders of love. The connection with someone special, the butterflies, the magical phenomenon no words can bring to justice. Perhaps this is because those who aren’t feeling such emotions cannot empathise with them and thus such concepts are thrown into the loony bin of the illogical and cliché’. This isn’t to say each person in their own way wants to experience affection with someone. Each of us secretly wants to share our most intimate feelings and idle thoughts with someone who won’t embarrass or hurt us in return. Each of us, if we don’t have it, longs for the simple trust between two people that connect them. There’s no denying this because we are naturally social beings who base our lives on interaction. Even if you consider yourself someone remote, private or isolated, we all in some way interact with one another in order to sustain ourselves.

I tend to avoid writing about ‘love’ and all the connotations it entails because how often people avoid or ridicule such a topic I’ve lost count. Its also easy to assume that those ‘magical’ reactions within us called ‘love’ don’t exist but are simply an idea manifested by romantics who felt the need to label the events of arousal, stimulation, intercourse and reproduction into something more than all it is. For those of us who are realists and who are harder to convince when it comes to the enchantment of love, is there more than this primitive want of physical gratification and breeding? Today I’m going to say, at my own peril, there is. ‘How do you know that for sure?’ you’re probably asking me. Unfortunately it seems that you can only really know or believe in ‘love’ by experiencing it because there doesn’t seem to be any logical answers out there. And here comes your disappointment at the cliché. Sorry to use this cop-out if you feel the need to use logic for everything, but I’ve just come to learn that sometimes explanation destroys the wonders of the nonsensical. Perhaps being open to the irrational might mean gaining a better insight into the vastness of human consciousness and thus love? Now I’m only green in this field of human experience, thought and emotion and know almost nothing of the science of the three, but from here on know that what I go by is only my own experience, can one do no else?

Desire, lust, deeply caring, affection, intimacy, connection- call it whatever you want but I’m going to save the trouble of avoiding the word ‘love’ and just use it in all it’s general glory. This isn’t to say I agree that those preceding words amount to love, quite the opposite, but my endeavour here is not to define love, just to explore a single fragment of the beast it is. So which fragment is that, you ask? Companionship.

Companionship comes in many forms, be it a friend, a mother, the person you sit next to in a lecture or the stranger you share a laugh with. Each in their own way evokes and level of companionship. I have an amazing relationship with a girl I’ve know for years. I can honestly say that I can share anything with her, she knows me best, only just after I know myself. She’s seen my darkest points, heard some of my most uncouth desires and talked me through my most vulnerable states. We are able to constantly make each other laugh, express our joy for life’s most simple pleasures and gossip about anything without the feelings of resentment or judgement between us. I am honoured to know someone who connects with me on such a level that transcends common behaviour to the point of being comfortable within each other’s unspoken thoughts- sometimes it feels so unreal. This isn’t to say we don’t work on our problems nor speak our minds when we disagree or are uncertain, this goes unsaid for any relationship to work- the need to master basic communication- but since our strive is to care and be there for each other, it doesn’t take much for one to understand the other and our problems are resolved.

My friend possesses a rare delicacy and compassion that anyone who meets her adores. Most would take a strong liking to her and try to get to know her more, attracted by the unfamiliarity this strange and fragile flower evokes. She is one that only deserves beauty and compassion in return for what she gives the universe, however one has in the past abused her fragility for his own avariciousness and left her wounded. Her heart became scattered into a thousand pieces and an ugly darkness filled with cynicism and resentment overcame her. Every piece of her heart screamed a different desire and her head decided not to listen anymore. The face once filled with rosy cheeks became sullen with tears and any idea of love she once had slowly and painfully died. This transformation, subtle to most but clear to me, sent her on a path of escapism. At times our friendship stood on a standstill. One night we almost lost it completely; our phone conversations were still frequent but I felt like she didn’t hear me anymore and she became frustrated with me. We had an argument and hanged up the phone. My mind said “Well that’s it then”. Angry though I was, I suppressed it. I was over it. Sadness then slowly overcame me and the confidence I felt two seconds ago faded. I didn’t know what I wanted. I knew she was needing, torn up. I made the choice to get over my self-righteousness and call her back. In tears I told her she means more to me than our disagreement and I didn’t want to loose her over it.

The year soon came to an end and her cuts turned into scars. She began smiling again. She opened up to meetings guys but nothing more than a midnight pash seemed worth it. One night she met an interesting fellow from another city who became smitten with her. He continued contacting her and followed her across the globe on her travels. I thought it was crazy but also exciting and I supported every second of it. They spoke and shared everything. Yes, they adored each other but there was something else floating in their little concoction of passion: companionship. Not only had she a lover but also a best friend. She spoke so highly of him and glowed like a lantern wherever she trotted. I was so delighted to see her so happy but I also I told myself that she’s clearly infatuated with him so everything must be a hyperbole… how wrong I was! After meeting him myself I realised how true the myths of her stories became. What they share is phenomenal. It really is. He instilled trust in her and showed her the compassion she forgot she had. My friend of damaged goods was no more and her enchanting eyes told me she was in love (just before her lips did).

We are still strong with each other but she also shares something with her partner, something that we will never have. We share our worlds together as she does with him and its wonderful. After talking to her on the phone last night I was inspired by something. Imagine been able to have what I do with her but with someone I’m in love with. Their companionship showed me how it is possible, but also made me question: “just how rare is this?” After our conversation ended I realised something. I share my whole world with her, but hardly any of it with anyone else. I used to think that she was the only one who could understand me but now I think I might be wrong. There are worlds in people, we all have one. Some of us never show anyone our world. Some people we call ‘close’ friends only get to see a fragment of it. Some of us don’t even share our world with the person we’re in a relationship with, as I’ve come to realise of myself in the past. Some of us long to share it but there’s no one around who is either interested or can understand our own strange ways of thinking and experiencing (and those who can might simply choose not to care). Some of us would rather keep our world to ourself, silently detesting the chance of being vulnerable for what that could do to us. No one wants to be broken and its our natural instinct to avoid that from happening, but I just can’t say how wonderful vulnerability is. It’s a risk that’s both euphoric and frightening. I’ve been hurt before for sharing my world with someone who didn’t want it, but I am willing to show it to another and know theirs. I can’t know if they’ll break me or not… But if they demonstrate the same willingness to share then that is some indication.
I hardly know anyone else’s world. It’s a bizarre thought thinking so with billions of people on earth, let alone the few close ones I hold dear… It seems the older we get the more and more we unconsciously box ourselves in. We hide our truth behind jokes and sneers because nothing’s worse than an open heart. How do we get closer without jumping into a joke to save the situation? Small doses are all I can think of. Share tiny things with someone you care about and if they don’t ridicule you then you’re on the right track. And if they do don’t see it as an absolute to your relationship, either acknowledge that they might not be ready to share their world or receive yours or perhaps they don’t share the same style of thinking as you. Either way there’s nothing wrong with being friends of a polar opposite (sometimes they prove the most fascinating of friends) as long each can appreciate the other’s difference and approaches it with interest and care.

‘And so what’s love got to do with this?’ You ask. Well I guess my theory is that if you can share your whole world with someone, and I mean: if you don’t think twice before telling them something, if you suddenly want to know what they think of your ideas, if you tend to notice things you think they might like, if you can talk about any topic under the sun, if you’re not afraid of expressing something you dislike within yourself and know that by sharing it with them might make you feel better and perhaps work towards a solution of inner peace, if you feel comfortable just thinking about them and if you can sit in solitude next to each other or in each other’s arms and be satisfied, when you can do all these things (and much more I hope) then you’ve begun sharing your world. If you can connect on these levels and have the same amazing connection intimately then I think this might be what ‘love’ is. I’ve heard people call this type of person your ‘soulmate’ and now it is clear to me what they must mean. The power of companionship is a commanding feature that I would never go without. I would rather be single and have incredible friendships than be in a relationship where I can’t share my world or know my partner’s.

This kind of companionship should be something we all crave (I know I do) because we all deserve to experience the kind of love my friend has with her partner. This kind of experience is different to the average relationship which means being wise with whomever you choose to be with. What I mean is to be wise in the emotional sense: always follow your feelings but try not to throw your heart away to just anyone in the hope that they will someday give you theirs, because if they don’t show it to you at the start then they probably never will. And if you’re the opposite, be extra careful of not starting something with someone you’re not that taken by (biggest mistake I’ve made, but there’s no regret- how else could I have learned to listen to myself? Real passion for someone is worth being single for). Having a soulmate must be a rarity that not every Tom, Dick and Harry (or Sally) will have with you. No one should expect things from people or expect them to understand or care, these will just come naturally with the right person. And don’t be a romantic fool in thinking that there’s only one person out there for you. No, no, no, no. That’s just a silly tale. Be realistic about things. Be yourself. Be willing to love. Be open to vulnerability and sharing your world with someone who tickles your fancy and you just might get lucky.

© Danielle Sophia Raffaele.
Written 23/5/09 and 24/5/09
Image by Kush Fine Art (http://www.vladimirkush.com/popup.php?id=127&category=Editions/Sold%20Out%20Prints)

A Rant on a Train

2008-08-31T22:09:00.000-07:00

What makes sitting on a train the opening for a philosophical breakthrough? Somehow the travelling-across-borders generates a subliminal emotion within us to spark as we turn to reflect on our life and the idea of the journey itself, or so I’m told. I’d like to explore what it is about voyaging on a train that alludes to the notion of thought and creativity. I’m currently on a train to Tamworth from Sydney and I have approximately one hour left before the battery dies on my newly appointed laptop, gift from my father. So I haven’t much time to find my point and conclude it.

So, trains. They’re symbolic of journey, yes; of the means between a beginning and a end. The experiences and feelings before reaching that ultimate destination... whether it be Tamworth or death. Anyone who lives in NSW and studied English for their Higher School Certificate (a small minority in the schemes of things) is very able to comply with me and The Journey as it was one of our prescribed studies where we analysed it to the bullshit. I’m sure I could fit pages in between this paragraph and the next with concepts of The Journey, with short stories revolving around The Journey, with quotes, poetry, people and ideas all to do with The Journey. I could do all of this, however apart from wasting my precious battery time and your reading time unnecessarily, I’m sure you are more than capable of understanding exactly what I mean.

So now to find some examples to back myself up… Well let’s start with me. Here I am sitting on a train. I was just reading a very good novel by Lionel Shriver called ‘We Need To Talk About Kevin’, and no, not Kevin Rudd our current prime minister, but Kevin the fictional seventeen-year-old who committed a high school massacre in America. Good book, by the way, and what an amazing writer! How I aspire to be able to write something with such depth, research, integrity and flair like her. So anyway, I finished one of the chapters, ordered the Beef teriyaki with Rice for lunch and suddenly felt the urge to write. Coincidence that I’m on a train? Probably. But it is the train that gave me the subject matter for this article… the thing itself! Slightly ironic?

Okay well maybe I should explore people who, while on a train, were inspired to write about things other than the train itself. J.K. Rowling, the creator of ‘Harry Potter’, first came up with the idea of the saga while taking a ride on a train. She expressed how the vision of a boy sitting on a train going to a school for wizards suddenly popped into her head. Lucky her. Maybe if I sat and continuously looked at the evergreen pastures and trees outside my moving window, I too will come up with an ingenious idea that moves people’s hearts and provides me with a decent income.
A friend of mine wrote a short satire about a young man searching for enlightenment. She mentions the train has something to do with receiving a greater philosophical understanding about life (must get quote). It was, of course, a parody, but there is always some truth in a joke.
How about ‘The Polar Express’ book/film? That is a train that goes somewhere magical… The North Pole. Is the train the focus though? I’m actually unfamiliar with the text. End of that example.
In C.S. Lewis’ ‘The Lion The Witch and The Wardrobe’ the children take a train to their uncle’s house... Could the train be foreboding something??? Something mystical and out-of-this-world perhaps!?
Now I’m just sounding desperate. All I have concluded by my very poor examples is that the train could mean something philosophical somehow.

With only twenty minutes left, hopefully some insight will be gained and I will have witnessed a higher plane of consciousness. The only thing so far is that I forgot about my tea and it went almost cold because I was so distracted from writing. And I absolutely love tea. IT MUST BE THE TRAIN.

Are trains something special or are they just a symbolic means of expression in regards to the traveller’s journey? Are they just a convention of English Literature that we learn in school, like how water or bathing symbolises re-birth and cleansing? Every time I take a shower I don’t think about my soul being cleansed, but I do feel a unique sense of refreshment afterwards. I guess if I had more time I could further this discussion (I’m seriously lacking resources like the Internet). Alas I come to an end of no real point made. Maybe this article is philosophical in itself… and slightly existential perhaps.

© Danielle Sophia Raffaele.
Written 29/08/2008

Modern Dialogues

2008-05-19T07:59:00.000-07:00

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about my interaction with the people I know, or with those whom just surround my daily spaces. I’ve been thinking about my relationships and how much of them are tangible to me, how much of the relationships are there and present in my reality.

Tonight after watching The Melbourne Comedy Gala’s “Great Debate” (Topic ‘Reality is Better on T.V’) my previous thoughts on the subject of interaction began to rekindle. The debate discussed how we as a nation are “progressing” into motionless Beings with everything we need placed at the convenience of a screen right in front of us. Upon hearing this, a possible truth began to surface in the front of my mind: Have we as the youth of society lost the art of communication in reality?

“If you don’t have Msn, Myspace or Facebook, how do you stay connected?” I heard myself say to someone recently. Shamefully I suddenly realised how I had now joined the modern occult of internet profiles and cyber interaction beyond my conscious control. Even though I believe my question-statement seemed utterly daft, there is utter truth in it. If you are apart of this Modern Dialogue epidemic, then you must be fully aware of its effects on us: if you don’t have Facebook then you can’t know about so-and-so’s “Event” for her upcoming party and therefore won’t be invited; if you don’t have Msn then you won’t be able to have the opportunity for ‘D&M’ with so-and-so and therefore miss out on a great conversation; and if you don’t have Myspace well then just say goodbye to any self-expression and your social life!

I will admit that Msn has helped in being the grounding for some great relationships that possibly would have otherwise ceased to exist in reality (for example just because you see someone a few times a week doesn’t mean you’d have the opportunity to talk to them or get to know them). Msn gives one the leeway into having many interesting discussions where the opportunity in a physical forum would less likely arise.
However how much of this is a good thing? I’ve noticed that just because you have a great Msn conversation with someone you hardly know doesn’t mean its continued later on in reality. When you see the person another time it is almost as if the conversation never happened and you’re more or less strangers. On more than one occasion with a variety of people I’ve felt that my Msn ‘life’ doesn’t transcend into my reality, it is an alter-ego that seems to only want to stay online. As we get more involved and accustomed to those we speak to online it seems that our natural selves don’t acknowledge the people as easily in person. It is as if there is some unspoken rule that can’t cross-over. Why is this? What creates this security blanket online that simultaneously breaks-down our ordinary social skills?

We all know how physical human interaction can be awkward at times, but has the natural process of meeting people in the flesh been annihilated by a more comfortable dictatorship? Msn, Facebook and Myspace remove any speech-impediment, any stutter, it saves us from any un-thought comment, anything that could make us seem silly- we ultimately control exactly how we want to come across.
Most users seem to think in doing this we can express our identity and uniqueness as people, that we have an opportunity to show our real selves that would otherwise be untold. I believe that this justification is masking an excuse for a fashion trend that is numbing our skills and needs for face-to-face interaction and confrontation. Unlike in reality, this social shift glosses over our sense of individuality into becoming a universal culture of laboured conversations, deluding portrayals and high-angled photographs. These online Representations are just an excuse for us to become even more anti-social and isolated in our own ideal world of self-perfectionism.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying Msn, Facebook and Myspace are ‘The Devil’. I’m not saying everyone who has an account signs on with the intention to mislead viewers and idolise themselves. I have accounts myself and am probably no different to any other user. What I’m expressing is my observation on how these online environments seem to be slowly destructing the common ease which is normally present in face-to-face conversations. We seem to avoid calling one-another to catch-up, or merely approaching one-another to talk about the same things we’d wait to speak online about. Why is this? Are we so afraid of judgment and/ or being vulnerable to someone these days that we’re driven to the point of hiding behind screens just to communicate our thoughts? How pathetic. Or even worse, have we just gotten too lazy to talk in any other fashion?- Thus doing so we eliminate any ties to friends who aren’t online members (whether they being opposed to the social/technological movement or just plainly choosing to not have an account). Fear or Laziness doesn’t sit well with me. Whichever it is, or both, I think we can do better than that. I don’t know about you, but I personally don’t want to be the generation to verify online relationships to the point where physical interaction is abolished. And if you say that will never happen then I say in the nicest way possible: take off your Rose-Coloured Glasses and look how society is progressing.

I hope that if someone wants to speak to me, then they will feel comfortable to approach me in the plain “old-fashioned” way. I almost crave to have my msn conversations converted into real life, and I think that’s what we’re all missing out on. Confrontation, awkwardness, speech impediments and silly mistakes never hurt anyone before, so why are we now so obsessed with presenting ourselves so perfectly? Why not praise our “flaws” as apart of our charm and character instead of fearing them? I believe that if we’re all so capable of holding intellectual discussions online then we must be more than capable in person, the only thing that needs changing is our philosophy of thought.

© Danielle Sophia Raffaele.
Written 19/05/2008

From Old Ways to Old Age

2008-05-11T05:39:00.000-07:00

Walking home today I felt a strong sense of isolation, stuck in my thoughts of how my life will ultimately pan out. I thought about who I am today and how I am perceived. Then I thought about how I have changed. How have I changed? I suddenly felt like my old thirteen-year-old immature self who was self-conscious, unconfident and socially uncomfortable. Now at nineteen I usually feel like these aspects have diminished, but then why the sudden personality memory? We all have character traits that we dislike and want to change. Can we really escape our old ways of thinking and doing, or do they reside in the back of our minds like unseen and forgotten leftovers which have stunk up the fridge?
We always want the best for ourselves and want to been seen as our best. Could these emotional flashbacks be merely paranoia in the context of a not-so socially accepting environment, or a confirmation on our personal growth? Either way, something still feels out of step. Do we truly know how we come across outside the comfort and ideals of our Inner Self? It seems that we are living two lives, not just one; the one we know in our head, and the one that interacts with the physical world. How to find a balance and a working relationship between the two is something I’m still seeking.
I find it ironic in thinking that all of this self-discovery in our youth, all of the washing away from our old selves and finding our ‘true’ identity as adults is ripped from us once we reach a whole new old way: old age. We leave the old only to re-enter it. Working at McDonalds has helped me with my analogy. I have served hundreds of elderly people and think of them all as the same thing: “Old”, not “down-to-earth” not “fun-loving”, not “self-indulged”… just “Old”. As rude, ignorant and shallow as it sounds, sadly it’s the truth. They all come in with the same husky voices, oversized glasses and granny/ poppy outfits flashing their senior’s card and receiving a free white coffee to go with their small fries. As long as they get their free coffee they don’t make a fuss, they sit down, feed themselves and then leave (probably to go home). Its almost beyond my comprehension to think of them as individual people who have lived their lives with dreams, laughter, passion, regret, sorrow and even teen-angst. Why is it that all of this disappears and falls into one big black hole of “Old”? Its as if they’re their own species of second-class human beings who all suddenly begin to act the same, dress the same, smell the same, live the same. “Old” isn’t an age… it’s a culture.
This really worries me. We spend our whole lives working out how to be our own unique selves, only to have it ripped away from us once we reach sixty-something. Can this Warp be untwisted or is it inevitable? I want to be still seen as me, just me: Danielle! I don’t want to be classed into an obsolete stereotype where people are just waiting for you to die because you don’t make the earth as pretty as you used to. It is sick.
Do people just give up once they become old and sink back into their Inner Selves, the ones they know best and where they are most comfortable? Do they realise their horrible typecast and plainly accept it, following the mob’s coldhearted views? What happened to those diverse and lively men and women?!
The next generation of the Elderly is commencing and the question is will our Baby-Boomers put up a fight and change our wonted ways? I think we are starting to see it already: the obsessed-about-physical-youth forty to fifty something men and woman who are plastic-surgery junkies, pumping down ten daily vitamins and using those ab-blasting devices to reverse the effects of ageing. I definitely don’t won’t to became apart of this “Health and Beauty Freak” stereotype and frankly I think it is almost just as sad as being “Old” altogether, but it could very well work. It is a change, and any change from the current must be good.
I just hope my ‘Why’ Generation will learn from the mistakes that our current time’s people seem to continue to do. Today we need to stop seeing elderly people as a different breed and our current elders need to not let the youth do so, along with sustaining their self pride and worth before they fall into a negative pattern (the term “I’ve stopped growing” should cease to exist). We can also learn from the Baby-Boomer elders-to-be to see if this “Health and Beauty Freak” epidemic will actually do itself some justice, or just make the future over-sixties image worsen. We need to address what we have done wrong and fix it for everyone. I, and thousands of other youth definitely don’t want to be The Walking Dead in fifty years. We want our lives to be just as vibrant, new and exciting as they are now. We should all want to continue to develop and find ourselves, not reverse into our inner thirteen-year-olds and down further!
I’ve come to realise that its not just my old ways that I want changed. I believe the only real thing we have control over is our attitude: it is easy to change our own person; it just takes the simple steps of a decision and a process to reach the conclusion. Altering the viewpoints of millions of people isn’t as simple, but as long as we love life, love one-another and remain inspired, I don’t think anyone will become “Old” anymore… but just another person “Growing”, “Rising” and “Living”.

© Danielle Sophia Raffaele
Written 28/04/2008

Riddle Me This

2008-05-11T05:34:00.000-07:00

Are we as humans so accustomed to pain that it has become the norm?
Speaking on the phone to a friend recently, she was explaining how the start of a relationship with this great guy doesn’t compare to the infatuation she felt towards another who abused her respect by womanising her. It is interesting to see how we as humans measure our torment as a formula for how much we like someone. We must feel tormented to know we like them.
I explained to my friend that as long as there was an existing crush to begin with (a.k.a. “The Spark”) with the new guy, there is no need to worry. Relationships don’t remain in the “Phase One: Giddy-Crush” stage. She assumed that because her feelings had become more comfortable, that she might not like him as much as the other.
From my own experiences, I believe that you can like someone new just as much as your previous crush or partner. I believe that people seem to mistake the level and length of their love-suffering to actual likeness. In other words, just because you haven’t experienced the same pain of one crush for the amount of time you did another doesn’t mean that you couldn’t have liked them both equally.
When people are in agonising obsession for someone that is currently unobtainable, they confuse that love to being better than the love that in comfortable, satisfied and constantly growing with that other person in a relationship.
Its funny how we can be so use to the suffering that it becomes worrying when it isn’t there or as strong anymore. Why is it that we begin to “freak-out” when things finally begin to go in our favour? Suffering has become something that we are more used to than not suffering for someone.
Maybe suffering is an essential part of Existence and our psyche… Is desiring the ideal far better than living it?- OR- are we supposed to wake up to ourselves and realise that we do deserve more and should finally accept something wonderful when it is happening?

© Danielle Sophia Raffaele
First written 20/04/2008
Edited and Typed 24/04/2008

Nineteen and Still Kicking (and Screaming)

2008-05-11T05:32:00.000-07:00

Nineteen is an interesting age to find yourself in. After a couple months I have found its not as cool-sounding as 18 nor as refined as 21. It is my limbo age: too young to be successful and satisfied, and too old to still be working at McDonalds. So here I am, somewhere between the destination of having a career, a place of my own and a man, to the last stages of the now-not-so-itchy mosquito bite that is puberty. I wouldn’t say I’m glamorous, but I like to believe I’m on my way.
Nineteen is the age where you’re treated like you’re still a teenager but expected to think like an adult; the age where you can’t blame teen-angst anymore for ‘how much things suck’ but must face them with a greater understanding of ‘life’s balance’; and of course to begin setting yourself on the steady track of your future path (because dreams of being a famous something-or-other are by now expected to be struck down by a strong dose of reality). There are days when I can feel a sense of the monotonous ‘bla-bla-bla’ (onomatopoeia for existence), but am still too young and hopeful to become its slave. This age is the grey area of life where now’s the “make it or break it” time. Everything feels vulnerable, everything. From choices of university to travelling, to friends and feelings, from ideas and hopes… its all thrown together in some festering soup of emotions which can’t seem to be blamed on anything else but ‘growing up’ or ‘clinical depression’.
So what does one do while sitting on the fence, apart from sipping countless cups of varied tea and watching over twenty hours of ‘Sex and The City’? That’s a very good question, and one I’ve been asking myself since I’ve come of the age. What the hell am I doing with my life? I can’t visualise myself in one specific career, or any lasting one. Some days I see myself venturing across Africa in cargo pants and a baggy t-shirt that’s fluttering in the wind while we pass lions on a safari; other times I see myself very sophisticated and chic at the opening of my first art exhibition in a fabulous city; to days where I’m on a bustling film set working on the movie I just wrote, or sitting at the premiere and hoping it will leave a great impact; to wearing a business suit and having a very heated yet well-presented argument with some balding political figure in the United Nations General Assembly; to sitting in a spacious yet cosy lounge room on a soft rug among my family in front of a fire place, just enjoying our own silent company.
Its crazy to think I can do all that, and also crazy for me to think what if I can’t. If I can’t experience everything to my heart’s desire, how will I ever be satisfied? I have been injected with an unbalance of too much logic and too much optimism, and we all know what happens when someone overdoses. There are just too many pretty cakes on the table for me to pick one, and if I eat all of them I’ll feel sick. Sigh. At least something is clear to me: I am the type of nineteen that is still too young to make up my mind (so glamour must also be a far-off reach). I guess for now I’ll just keep sitting on the fence and drinking my tea… until something temporarily definite comes along to yank me off.

© Danielle Sophia Raffaele
Written 30th March 2008