Life Is Like A Clock | Weekend Extra

This is going to be extremely random, but it will hopefully explain the lack of posts lately.

I have three clocks in my room. The first is a small, rectangular, analog clock that sits on my headboard. The second is a pink digital clock, also on my headboard, that I use as my alarm clock. The third is a blue and silver analog clock with a duck on it, that hangs on the wall opposite my bed.

Over the past twelveish days, my duck clock has been losing time, about ten minutes a day. It started off being just a few minutes behind, and by this afternoon, it was two hours behind and stopped completely, although it did start working again after a while. It is now about three and a half hours behind.

That’s like life. Sometimes, when our batteries get worn down or we are just too busy and stressed, we need to slow down for a bit, or stop completely. We can’t keep going at the same pace forever. Every so often, we need to just stop, take a break, recharge, and begin again.

I’m at that point now, where I need to stop and reevaluate my life. There are a lot of things going on at the moment that need sorting out, whether it is the mess on my floor or the mess in my brain. I’ve been going for too long without actually dealing with the things that need dealing with, and very soon, I’m going to break down and stop functioning properly completely. Things are reaching breaking point and something needs to change.

This past week has been a very busy week for me. I had something on every single afternoon/evening, which never happens, as well as schoolwork. Catching up on posts just seemed daunting, and I wasn’t very motivated. I haven’t been very motivated to do anything lately, to be honest. For example, I have a Bible assignment due on Friday that I’ve barely started. I was going to work on it today, but I seem to be getting very good at avoiding the things that I need to focus on. Like what the heck I’m doing with my life.

So, there you have it, folks. My life is a mess and I’m avoiding dealing with it. There’s some brutal honesty for you. I don’t know when I’ll start posting again, or when I’ll do the ones that I’ve missed, but for now, I need a break. A break from everything would be great, but I unfortunately don’t have the capability to pause time and run away and hide for a while. Hopefully I’ll begin to sort out my mess in the next two days (thank goodness for public holidays), and things will be back to normal soon.

But honestly, I would really appreciate some prayer right now. I need to get things back on track, but I’m not sure where to start and I’m feeling quite lost. So yeah. Please pray that I can get my head on straight and start to function normally again.


Day 143: Fictional Elevator

That last one was deep and depressing. Let’s make this one a bit lighter.

You’re stuck in an elevator with an intriguing stranger. Write this scene.

I run towards the elevator. “Please hold it!” The doors begin to close, just as I reach it. But someone is in the elevator, and they hold the doors for me. I step in and press the button for the ninth floor.

I bend over, panting. Once I catch my breath, I stand up straight. It is then that I glimpse the stranger, the person who held the elevator for me.

She is a young girl, no older than 18, at a guess. Her jet black hair is held in place by a red ribbon, tied with a bow. Compared to her hair, her skin looks as white as snow, although her cheeks are rosy red. Her dress is what grabs me. It is blue, yellow, and red, and it is stunning. I would love to own something like that. This girl is honestly the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.

Suddenly, the elevator lurches and comes to a halt. The girl’s eyes widen.
“What just happened?”
“I think the elevator stopped working. We might be stuck here for a while, so we may as well get better acquainted. What’s your name?”
“Gwyneira. It is a Welsh name.”
“It’s a beautiful name! I’m Rory.”
“Isn’t that a boys’ name?”
“Well, my name isn’t really Rory. It’s just a nickname.”
“Oh OK.”
“I love your dress, by the way. It’s gorgeous!”
“Thank you! You are too kind. I made it myself.”
“You are extremely talented.”
Her rosy cheeks turn a shade darker. “Thank you!”
“What’s in the basket, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Apples for my stepmother. She’s sick, and I was on my way to visit her. My uncles and father are up there, waiting for me. How about you? Where are you headed?”
“Home. To bed. I’m exhausted. I feel like I haven’t slept in years.”
“Hopefully we won’t be stuck here for long, then.”
“Fingers crossed.”
“How long have you been living here? I haven’t seen you around before.”
“Oh, not long. I’m staying with my three aunts for a while.”
“Sounds lovely.”
“Oh, it’s a bit chaotic. They have dozens of pets, and I hate animals. I don’t understand them. But yeah, it’s been fun.”
“Sounds a bit like my stepmother’s place. What with my six uncles and my father, it is quite crowded.”
“Six uncles?”
“Yes. My father is one of seven boys.”
“How exciting. I’m an only child.”
“So am I.”

The elevator lurches again, and I wake up. What a weird dream.


Well that was bizarre. It started off that the stranger was going to be a little girl with golden ringlets, and then my imagination twisted it and went crazy.

In case you didn’t pick up on it, the stranger was supposed to be like Snow White (gywn: white, eira: snow), and the other girl was Sleeping Beauty (Rory being a nickname for Aurora).

I have no idea where that came from.

~this was supposed to go up last night but I fell asleep. Whoops~

Day 142: Green-Eyed

My trip was great, for the most part. It was quite cold, and we ended up being stuck at the airport when we should have been driving home, but it was otherwise a very fun and educational trip.

Tell us about the last time you were really, truly jealous of someone. Did you act on it? Did it hurt your relationship?

Because I have four posts to do, and because I can’t think of one specific instance, I’m just going to briefly talk about jealousy in general.

I struggle a lot with jealousy. I am the kind of person that views herself as different, as someone who doesn’t fit. So I am constantly wishing that I was someone else, wishing that I could be slightly more normal. I get jealous every time I see my friends greet each other with a hug, when they only greet me with a “Hey”. I get jealous every time I’m sitting alone and everyone around me is laughing and having a great time with each other. I get jealous when I am the one without a partner-jealous of everyone’s friendships and camaraderie.

You have no idea how many different ways I tried to spell that word before I got it remotely right.

But then there are other things that I get jealous of. For example, at my small group tonight, the conversation shifted to my lack of a driver’s license. In New Zealand, you can get your learner’s license when you are 16. If I had gotten mine as soon as I could’ve, I would be on my restricted by now. However, due to my lack of depth perception due to my mucked up eyes, I haven’t gone for it yet, because the idea of driving terrifies me. Every single time I’m in a car, I pretend that I am driving, and figure out how I would be doing, how many things I would have hit. Let’s just say that the streets of New Zealand would not be safe.

Never mind that my 19 year old brother, who could have gone for his learner’s when he was 15, before they changed the age, doesn’t have his license yet. Nope, let’s just single out the one person that actually has an excuse.

But I am jealous of anyone and everyone that can see with both eyes at the same time and can drive without worry. I’m jealous of anyone that doesn’t have to worry about fainting every time they run or do anything like that. I’m jealous of the people who live normal, hospital free lives. I’m jealous of every single person that has nothing to put on the medical section of forms, while I have to write a long list and send in a paragraph about fainting and ambulances.

I know that this is going to sound really bad, but basically, I’m jealous of everyone that isn’t me.

I need to work on that. Alrighty. Goal for the next wee while: be less jealous and more content. Sounds like a challenge.

A Letter To John Key | Weekend Extra

I’m actually writing this on Wednesday, because I’m going away on the weekend and won’t be able to post, so I’m trying to have this pre-written and ready to post. I’ll set up a time and date, and hopefully, if you’re reading this, it has worked.

The Weekend Extra schedule allows today to be a free day, to do whatever I choose. So I’m going to write a letter to John Key. That’s the New Zealand Prime Minister, if you weren’t aware.

Dear Mr Key

I’m sure you’ve had many similar letters regarding this issue, but I feel like it is important that I say these things also.

I do not agree with your proposed flag change, for a few different reasons. The first reason that I do not agree is the cost issue. I have heard on the news and similar places that this flag change will cost around $26 million. $26,000,000, being spent on a few pieces of fabric. Seems pretty ridiculous to me. I was watching Campbell Live earlier this week, and they were looking at people affected by everything that is going on in Syria. These people are living in refugee camps, and they have nearly nothing. Yet here we are, spending millions of dollars on a flag. That is just one example of where the money could go. What about those suffering in Nepal or Vanuatu after their natural disasters? What about those struggling in our own country? Surely their needs are more important than a new flag.

But on the less practical side of things, our flag is ours for a reason. We have been using it for over 100 years. It is our flag. When I see that flag flying, I feel proud of being a Kiwi. I feel safe, and I feel at home. That flag makes me feel secure and comforted, because it is ours and to me, it represents home. Those proposed flag designs? None of them make me feel this way. None of them make me feel safe or comforted. I do not feel proud when I look at them, not in the slightest.

Sure, our flag may be similar to the Australian flag, and sure, it may not show our diverse background and culture as much as we would like. But I’m sure that many would agree, both Maori and Pakeha, that this flag is ours. This flag represents a nation, one that has been through hardships and trials but still remains strong. This flag represents us. When I see our flag flying, I don’t see a piece of fabric. I see our nation.

I may just be a naïve teenage girl. I may have absolutely no idea what I’m talking about. But I’m also a proud New Zealand citizen, one who would love to see our flag stay the way that it is.

So please, Mr Key. Please reconsider. After all, when you change our flag, you are changing every person represented by it.

Yours Sincerely,
T. A.

Day 141: Goals

When you started your blog, did you set any goals? Have you achieved them? Have they changed at all?

This is going to be very short, just warning you. I’m going to Nelson tomorrow, and my alarm is set for 6:15, so I actually want some sleep.

Goals. Basically the only goal I had was to post every single day for a year.

I had already failed that by the third day.

So, that’s kind of changed to “post as often as you can and catch up on the days that you miss”.

But really, I guess my other goal would be to improve my writing, by being consistent and writing something everyday, whether it is short like this or long and exciting like some of the others hopefully are.

And that’ll do.

Like I said, I’m going away, and I won’t be able to post. However, I’ve scheduled a Weekend Extra to go up on Saturday, which is basically just a polite rant about something. I don’t have much faith in technology these days, so I’ll be very surprised if it actually goes up. Fingers crossed. Otherwise, I’ll catch up on the rest when I get back on Sunday. Or I might try and squeeze in tomorrow’s one now, and put that on the schedule too.

Actually, nope. I’m going to bed.

Day 140: Bittersweet Memories

When I typed bittersweet, the first suggested word was chocolate.

You receive a gift that is bittersweet and makes you nostalgic. What is it?

I can think of a few different things that would make me feel nostalgic, but they aren’t necessarily bittersweet. They’re less bitter, more sweet.

Now I’m just thinking about a top that I have. I didn’t know what to wear to my Grandad’s funeral, so my mum gave me a top of hers. It’s a thin, meshy, cream top, with blue and pink flowers. Not brightly coloured. I haven’t worn it since the funeral, but it still sits in my drawer, and I feel nostalgic and kind of sad every time I see it. But that doesn’t really fit, because it wasn’t bittersweet until a couple of days after it was given to me, if that makes sense.

I should wear it again.

Hmm. Bittersweet.

Ooh I know!

I mentioned a friend of mine about a month ago on this post. The one that I’m referring to is the first one. I used to go over to her place and we’d play together.

So my bittersweet gift would be one or more of the toys that we used to play with. The Barbies or the Bratz or the Littlest Pet Shop. Something like that. It’s bitter because it’s sad that we drifted apart, but sweet because we had so much fun while we were friends. I would probably end up wishing that I was a kid again, because that was fun. We could play for hours without a care in the world. Getting one of those toys would probably make me cry, actually.

Although why I would be given them, I have no idea.

Day 139: Dulled

You encounter a mysterious man offering you a magic potion that, once sipped, will make one of your senses (sight, hearing, taste, smell, touch) super sharp-but dull the others. Will you sip it, and if so, what sense do you choose?

If a mysterious man offered me a magic potion, I would run for the hills. Seriously.

But if I took it?

I’m just trying to think. It’s a toss up between sight and hearing. The others are, in my opinion, minor senses in comparison to those two.

I guess it would depend on a few things. How much are the other senses dulled?

Actually, I just realized something.

I’d go with hearing (because I can never understand or hear people as is, so dulled hearing would just be horrid), and just get new, stronger lenses in my glasses.

But wait. What if sharpened hearing meant that you heard all of the high pitched, annoying noises as well?

I could just go the other way and say sight, and then get hearing aids.

Actually, I’ll do that. If I took this magic potion, I would choose to improve my sense of sight. I would love to be able to see better than I can now.