Monday, 25 May 2015

The Moon

The night sky drapes like black velvet, caressing my body as I lay on the crispy grass of my backyard. Within the darkness of the sky lays the illuminated moon. I wonder if you are looking at it too? It's a strange thing to think that no matter where in the world we are standing, we are faced with the same moon. The same spherical, foreign, white rock is the same no matter where you are. The same craters and indentations grace the eyes of you, me, and people I will never get the chance to meet.

The moon is a lot like us really, the marks and dents it withholds can be seen as flaws on face value. But once understood, it shows character, a history, a story behind every little rigid crack that covers it. And what a beautiful thing it is that even in the uttermost darkness it still shines like an everlasting bulb for all to see. The milky white exterior hides itself from time to time, using the omniscient clouds as a shield. Other times, it is only just peaking out; still being present but not allowing itself to be an open book. And sometimes it is not there at all, and leaves me with an inescapable darkness that has me feeling blindfolded.

That is why I think you are like the moon. You are always there, but it has taken time and understanding to grasp onto the intricate details that you withhold and try to mask with clouds. But like the moon, you go. It is inevitable. The sun must come up, and with that you must run away with the nights black cloak, leaving me to revel in the warmer light of the sun.

However, with the impermanence of the moon I gain a great deal of solace. I began to appreciate the time we shared together. I now appreciate how in amongst the wiltering foliage embedded in the shrubs of my back yard, the white light reflects on the waxy exteriors of the leaves that still hold life in them. You always see the best in me when you are around, and shine your inner light on the good in amongst the fatal flaws.

And I know that if I lose grasp of the moon, I will always have a sea of stars. But no one will ever shine as bright as you, and no one will ever illuminate the sky like you do.

Sunday, 24 May 2015

Working Hard for Fate

I started off wanting to be a hairdresser when I was about 5 or 6, that probably being put down to the fact that every time I accompanied my mother to get her hair cut I would get a raspberry flavored lollipop and get to play with the spinny chairs rolling up and down the salon. That soon changed to wanting to be a panelbeater, just like my father to take over his business. I don’t think I was ever interested in cars, but more infatuated by the photo copy machine and the rainbow of post it notes he had on his desk. Architecture was thrown into there, I went to a summer course for that one and while I loved making the little house models out of Styrofoam and toothpicks I then realized I couldn’t draw a stick man in proportion. Interior design then came from that and somehow that changed to nutrition. Nutrition was the one that stuck for a while, it was already an interest of mine but I was just baffled by the dietary trends that would come in and out of fashion quicker than the span of time that jelly shoes were the biggest “in” item to have (were they ever really though?). Then somehow the only one that has stuck with me was writing. It’s always been something I’ve loved doing, from writing short stories where the narrator was Timmy the ginger cat, to writing English essays that would somehow turn into psychoanalysis about how the blue sweater that the character was wearing represented his deep sadness in his life- no Helena, his jumper was just blue. Writing turned into journalism and that has gone from the very standard end of the spectrum to “There is no way in hell I’m going to be societies monkey simply telling people what the media wants them to know”. Who knows, maybe my mind will change and I’ll get myself into a job that hasn’t even been invented yet. But I know for a certain fact that I will never be satisfied with a career that leaves me hating my day to day routine and have the weeks highlight being a glass of wine on a Friday night. I have high standards for myself and while that has put me in some detriment previously, it is the sole attribute that pushes me to where I want myself to be. I know that in times to come I will be pushed in the deep end, but that’s okay because I know I’m a good swimmer. Sinking or swimming in life comes down to attitude; its how you look at the situation and how you choose to react to it. It’s become a joke between my brother and I about fate and how tiny details of situations play a huge part in what has followed. Fate however shouldn’t substitute for working hard. I am constantly overthinking and worrying about where my life’s road is going to take me, but I’ve finally put myself into the mentality that if I work to the highest of my ability to make what I want happen, the rest will follow how it should. You get what you put in and that applies to not only your career path but also so many more aspects in day-to-day life. Fate’s a funny thing though, maybe if I didn’t buy that little black journal 3 years ago I wouldn’t have begun regularly writing, if I didn’t go to a particular dinner party I wouldn’t have heard about the school that I currently attend and I can assure you 100% that I would be a completely different person than who I am now. So with this, take that if you work hard, let life take its course and have straight vision to what you want your life to be life; I can assure you things will find it’s way to working to your favor.  

Thursday, 5 March 2015


As much as I've tried to ignore it, I've come to accept that impermanence is the only form of life that we all truly become familiar with. The impermanence of every aspect of our lives is the reason that we hold on so tightly to memories of moments, people and places. I've questioned why I feel nostalgia so deeply within myself, and it's only now that I have come to a conclusion that the idea of nothing being a permanent thing both feels so heavily daunting and comforting at once. It has pushed me to leave the dark periods that have passed in the past, and to genuinely appreciate the aspects of my present life that bring light into my existence. This idea of impermanence allows me to hold onto everything that has influenced me and shaped me into the person stood here today. It's made me come to the realisation that I am a collection off all my individual and collective experiences. So with the dauntingly comfortable thought of an impermanent existence, I won't spend my precious time apologising for doing, feeling or living.

Wednesday, 25 February 2015

Him vs Time

A piece written in adaptation to first few lines of lyrics from the song "Early bird" by Mark Knopfler.

He was a man run by the force of time; had no time to rest, didn't even own a single piece of literature as he felt as if reading was a waste of time, because why would you spend your time reading about other people's lives rather than living your own and making your own stories. "You read for pleasure, or to gain insight on how others live" I would tell him. "But why would I do that?" he would argue back. "Why would I submerge my thoughts into fiction and let myself morph into someone else's life. I have my own life which I intend to live." And with that I couldn't find anything to argue back with. For someone who was ruled by time, one would assume a sense of organisation to be matched with him. That would be a false accusation to say the least. With clothes sprawled across his bedroom floor as a result of a closet busting through the hinges, he would often call me in a panic asking where his favourite pair of scuffed and ton sneakers might be. "Have you checked behind the pot plant? Maybe Tubs moved it again." Tubs was the cat who often moved things. Despite his name he wasn't actually all that tubby, he was quite slim. Probably because we would take him for walks down the road, whenever we wished we had gotten a dog. I would usually hear some rummaging, then silence for a moment before hearing "You were right. Damn Tubs. Should have bought a Beagle." His lifestyle was so messily in order, just like him. He lived a simple yet structured life, only being ruled by time- which I guess really ruled him in the end. I'm glad that I was part of this giant mess that was his life, and I'm glad that I could say that he was my mess. I just wish that I had an ounce of the realisation of time that he had so I would have been able to tell him that.

Friday, 20 February 2015

Eyes wide open

In fear of sounding awfully cliched; I often feel like a free spirit caged by life's jail bars and suffocated by the everyday ups and downs brought by the situations I have submerged myself in. I just feel as if I am desperately trying to find life experience, but not actually living all that much. I often find myself staring into the darkness of my white ceiling at 2am wondering "What the hell am I doing?" I'm sixteen years old, hell most people my age have no clue what they're doing; but that gives me no ounce of solace- to me that is no excuse to be feeling like this. I don't strive to be on par with my peers, nor do I strive to be seen as something better. I strive to live a life in which I know I am truly living. Life is such a fragile thing all made up of ones perspective. Its to be embraced and taken on with full force. I don't want to be finding myself ten years down lying in my bed with someone who doesn't light a fire within me, wandering through life waiting for my next pay check, looking at a new white ceiling still thinking "What the hell am I doing?" I'm so much more that that, I have so much more planned for myself. I don't want to look back at my life and only see wasted time and opportunities. I want to live, feel, explore, have my eyes wide open and take in the world. I've had my eyes shut for so long now and I've finally realised that there is a whole new side to everything if you simply open your eyes.

Wednesday, 11 February 2015

What the word "home" means to me

I’ve lived in the same house my whole entire life; same room, same furniture, even the same curtains. I know it inside and out like the back of my own hand. I could be walking through the halls to the bathroom in the middle of the night in pure darkness and know exactly where to turn and which steps to take to ensure I don’t step where the creaky floorboards are. But up until recently I haven’t actually deciphered myself what I consider to be home. My whole family is fro Croatia, and for years I considered that to be where I felt most at home. And to some extent it is. I feel so content when I am back there sitting on the rocks by the ferry looking out at the ocean around me. When I’m there, I am surrounded always by family and my heritage and to me that was always home. I visited Croatia last year, and oddly enough it made me realize and appreciate Auckland to be so much more than where I reside. It made me realize how much I missed being around the people in my everyday life that I valued so much. It made me miss the comfort of my house and even the creaky floorboards that made it near impossible to sneak out. I spent a great deal of my life wanting to leave Auckland as soon as I possibly could, until I started to explore it more and discover all it has to offer. A great deal of what had changed my opinion of it were the people of which were in my life also; throughout the course of a year I had met/rekindled with people whom made me feel something more, they made me feel at home with them. I don’t think the term “home” can simply be put down to a location; home can be someone, something and somewhere. People, things and places all make up that feeling of contentment that we associate with being at home, we have this ideology that home is where we were born/where we are from but its so much more than that. I know of so many people who travel and find themselves in a foreign city and have never felt more at home in their lives. Somewhere where I don’t feel alone, that’s home. And I’m happy to say I don’t just have one. There is a little house in Croatia, about two minutes walking distance to the ocean, white walls and white floors with an abundance of fruit trees surrounding it. I hold so many memories there and that’s home. And on the other side of the world I have my house here, my loved ones and the city that I have grown up to know and love with every fiber of my body. Home is so much more than what we think it is, home is the things, people and places that we hold tightly. To build a home somewhere isn’t with wood and nails, it is with memories that have past and the anticipation of memories to be built.

Written for Senior College's "Pulse" magazine, 2015.

Helena x

Sunday, 7 December 2014

Feature // Ben Williams

Today I'm featuring a lovely young man, Ben Williams who in my opinion will become a well known name in the world of NZ sporting and even international. Ben is a basketball player, currently in Auckland and I came across him when my brother told me about his aim to raise money to take him to train at Impact Basketball Academy across the globe in Las Vegas. Growing up with sport being a huge part of my life, I'm well aware of the dedication and hard work involved to get yourself ahead and pursue it further. I never really had the dedication myself and completely gave up on sports all together (whoops), but I can really recognise and admire Ben's hard work that has gotten him this amazing opportunity which he so rightfully deserves. Ben's video (which will be linked below) outlines his love for the sport and gives insight to his character, which anyone could see to be a young man with a very bright future ahead of him. So in saying this, watch the video, and please pledge to  Ben's cause and be in to see his journey to some pretty great things that I know he is capable of.

Have a look for yourself here:

Helena xx