honesty is the best policy...

I raise a cup for new adventures and exciting things ahead... 

I am captivated by certain things in life. I believe these certain 'particulars' to not just be something to which I humbly profess as the most honest and real moments of life, but absolutely without doubt that they are sacred. These are the things I get a kick out of....

I love waking up to sunshine on my face. Nobody told me to like it- I just do. I also really love going to sleep when it rains or thunders, I feel so secure being inside.

I adore the smell of Autumn air. 

I love scarves, I used to dress up with them when I was small. I still remember that one lime green scarf of my grandmothers that I would adorn over my face and wrap around my hair and neck.

I can sit and think about the things I love all day. I love to love these things, its never wasted time.

I make lists of 'desires' nearly once a week. Things I want to achieve, things I want to wear, things I think will make me happy.

I own certain books that I can read, look through countless times and learn something new upon each time. 

I cannot resist fine fabrics. They feel like everything that makes me a lady.

I am in awe of glass things, I used to get lost in department stores, I would somehow always be found laying on the floor looking at the chandeliers. I love how glass changes, how it forms.

I am obsessed wood, with drift wood especially. I can touch it and look at it all day.

I think white is the best colour. 

I love open fire places. I have fond memories of falling asleep under the Christmas tree looking at the fairy lights and being warmed by the fire. 

Christmas is without a shadow of a doubt my favorite time of the year.

I love silk and cashmere. They are my favorite fabrics.

I love coffee, I don't drink it often, but I love the smell of fresh coffee and I love when someone really knows how to make it. This is the only time I will drink it.

I love brown leather boots,belts and bags, rarely will I wear any other colour than this. I don't understand why.

I think I was born to live in the country, but by city and the beach. I am trying to find a happy medium in Sydney. 

I love when people are honest. It has to be the one value I hold most close to my heart about friendships. Honesty is the best policy... 

Pressure

I am sitting awake trying to attain great grades whilst feeling a sense of pressure. I am aware of how my life is changing constantly and at the present time I feel a sense of limbo about everything. I am really seeking truth, what my life exists for beyond what I already know and how I am ever to go about doing the things that are within my heart. It's strange to be finishing up degree this year, it has been one of the best times in my life and although I don't want it to end, it must- part of me is so glad to not have to study in such an academic tone again.

 My passion has always been art, for the past four years I have only dipped my feet in it and my soul craves the feeling of oil paints between my fingers, sewing machines running as I draw with stitches, fabric dyes that excite the eye and huge-bigger-than-life-canvases that I can be at one with in my spirit. I ache to display the information in my soul. I cannot believe that these four years have been like this, how some days I feel like I am about to burst with paint out of my mouth, yet unable to express what I feel. Instead this colour, this emotion and strong sense of being has been put into academics, tightened into a small box called assignments and timed into moments alone before the dawn breaks, just trying to figure out who I am as I read in all honesty who Jesus is. Theology has changed me, it has also constrained me. 

I have to admit in this four years I have hidden myself, Although I'm pretty opinionated, enthusiastic and in your face... I have hidden even with my closest relationships who I am inside. It's funny how you get called 'the painter' or 'the singer' when really nobody has ever seen you paint, or heard you sing. I talked with my best friend about this the other day, it's as if these things are written all over your face. I feel like such a hypocrite when people say, "oh she's that painter" I feel like bluntly speaking what I ask inside, "How the hell do you know?" because none of me feels like a painter... not one ounce of me feels like I have a slightest memory of what it is to paint. Knowing that in just a short few months I have the choice to acquaint myself with an old friend (paint) I wonder will he still be my friend? Will I have changed so much that we do not recognize one another anymore? 

I bite my nails.