Sunday, December 26, 2010

Now that I've left.


Now that I've left I expect they're all saying how stupid I've been. I imagine them sitting there, cradling their glasses in their palms. Their private gentlemans club making snide remarks about the silly young girl. What little she knows. How naive she is - how childish her sensibilities.

Or maybe they're not. Maybe they're not talking about me at all. Perhaps my absence stays unmentioned, and their conversation meanders down a different path. Maybe I don't matter that much at all.

I don't know what would be worse.

Thursday, December 9, 2010

LETHARGYYY


LETHARGYYY.
It's how I feel. Blah blah blah.

Got commended for a writing competition.

Working tomorrow - maybe go out after? Haven't been to The Court in a while... But funds...

Terribly close to Christmas.

Am I drunk all the time?


Happy.

Saturday, November 27, 2010

Alexi Wasser

Alexi Wasser says I have to do this, so I will. Even though I'm not American so I do not celebrate Thanksgiving. Nor does anyone I know. Regardless, it's probably I fairly fruitful activity, and I have nothing better to do.

10 things I am thankful for:
  1. I'm still alive. This surprises me.
  2. My family love and support me.
  3. I can see who my real friends are; those who are loyal and trustworthy and who care about me.
  4. My boyfriend feels more for me than perhaps I deserve sometimes.
  5. I get to go to University, and even though I often act like I hate it, I appreciate the opportunity to learn.
  6. I have a roof over my head and food in my tummy.
  7. I have seen three continents and lots of countries.
  8. I can appreciate the way I've grown during my life, but I have not lost sight of the things I still need to improve upon.
  9. I was born with an almost-healthy body and a semi-fuctional brain, which is much more than some people get.
  10. Most of the time I am doing what I want, and nobody can take my liberties from me - civil or otherwise.

We do have a lot to be thankful for.

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Sunday, November 14, 2010

I don't trust you.

I don't trust you, and you are morose.
But what is there to trust?

I know the truth already.
I always have.

Words are only words and you say them just as others did before you.

As far as I'm concerned you lied to me, and that's much worse than saying nothing at all.
But no worse than I deserve.

You say that I'm too good for you.
How little you know.
It means nothing to me.

The first cut is the deepest.

My heart was ruined long ago - you can not break it again.

Thursday, October 28, 2010

How I despise.

How I despise you of no hope,
You of wafer-thin morals and beaten conscience.

How I curse the day our lips met
and our bodies entwined,
The manner in which your aura snuck in
to inhabit mine.

Your smell engulfed me - now I reek of you.

When we are together I can not breathe
but absorb your essence.
When we are apart only the taste
of your deception lingers in my mouth.

The tears which I have wasted on your countenance
lie heavy in my memory.
Those you have oft observed shed
but never stopped to hinder.

This time amounts to nothing.
Your lies are all I will remember.

I wish I could say I find your false-sentiments amusing.
I wish I could be so callous; as callous as you.

Sunday, September 19, 2010

I dreamed.

I dreamed I was a colourful fish who got separated from her friends in the pond. I found myself in a shady, cool and languidly-moving river that I'd never encountered before. While at first I was afraid of the strange and new environment, I soon became absorbed in observing the beauty around me.

I swam along quite happily for a while, until the river began to narrow and I found I was heading towards some bright light. As I got closer I saw that the river was ending and this light was where it met some other body of water. Suddenly I realised that it was my pond - my home. I could see my friends frolicking around in the water and basking in the sunlight that filtered through. I realised I was cold.

I began to swim faster, eager to reunite with the fish who I'd barely known I'd missed. I got closer and closer, until at last I was right on the border of the two bodies of water. With one last burst of speed, I tried to break through. I couldn't. I was thrust violently backwards. Somewhere above the surface - beyond where my vision reached - was a waterfall and the movement of the water below as it hit created an invisible barrier.

Try as I might, I couldn't swim through. I was trapped, and I was alone.

Friday, August 27, 2010

Last night.

Last night Jackson asked me to read to him. I chose T.S. Eliot's The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.

It's been a while since I've read any Eliot, despite him being my favourite poet. Though, I suppose, reading is something that I find hard to make time for at the moment, so it's not so surprising.

I remember reading Prufrock for the first time (it was the first poem in the Eliot book we studied in Lit) and I recall being baffled by it. Even after doing some research, a lot of it went over my head, it would seem. Last night I felt like I knew it completely.

If someone were to ask me to explain myself - my past decisions, my motivations - I would refer them to this poem. Prufrock, it would seem, is me.

After I'd finished my reading, and Jackson went into the front room with Patrick and Stan, I re-read the poem. Fifteen, twenty times I must have raked my eyes along the lines. I was shocked. Eliot writes from the perspective of someone who is not just simlar to me, but feels everything I feel, knows everything I know. It was if he'd reached within me and withdrawn a hand full of everything I keep so carefully guarded from the people around me.

I cried at what we'd discovered.


The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse
A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo
Non torno vivo alcun, s’i’odo il vero,
Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo.


LET us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherised upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question …
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair—
[They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”]
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—
[They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”]
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all:—
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?

And I have known the eyes already, known them all—
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
[But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!]
Is it perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?

. . . . .

Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?…

I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.

. . . . .

And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep … tired … or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head [grown slightly bald] brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet—and here’s no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.

And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”—
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say: “That is not what I meant at all.
That is not it, at all.”

And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—
And this, and so much more?—
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
“That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all.”

. . . . .

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old … I grow old …
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

Sunday, August 15, 2010

A little bit.

A little bit of stream of consciousness because I feel as if I haven't written anything in a long time.


You Cannot Possibly Understand Regret

You asked me about regret because you said it was how you felt and I’m not one who’s often lost for words but your question caught me off guard and I was not sure exactly how to say that yes I know about regret because it often hangs over me and drenches me in darkness like that night when the sky was overcast I was at that park with my blood pulsing in tandem with the alcohol that swamped my veins and the moon peeked out from behind the clouds and frolicked for a while in the rare expanse of emptiness and that man left me to buy cigarettes and I’m not sure what made me feel so safe when I was so alone and these days I walk in the middle of the road at night time so I don’t have to pass through the shadows but he said it wasn’t far and I trusted him for some inexplicable reason so I sat on the swings and I waited until I heard noise behind me but when I looked it was not him it was two boys who I’d never seen before and they said things to me that now I can’t even remember but I didn’t think it was so malicious at the time I just didn’t know why they were talking to me at all and so when one of them hit me I don’t think it was pain that made me fall over but shock and I lay still as they loomed over me just looking not speaking when his shout split the suffocating silence and they ran without a second glance and he picked me up and dusted me off and I fell into his arms because I was frightened and confused so I did not say anything when he led me away I just followed this man who’d saved me because I felt I’d found a friend who would protect me and he took me to his house and made me sit on the couch in the front room and as I looked around I started to feel strange because there was just so much stuff there were magazines on the coffee table and there was a flower pot that someone had knocked over but hadn’t bothered to put right so it just lay there spilling its contents onto the wooden surface and it was just so cluttered and even though light filtered in through a window with open blinds I began to feel claustrophobic and then he sat next to me but not just next to me he was too close to me and then I knew that I didn’t want to be there anymore but when I shifted in my seat his hand shot out and he had my arm in his grip was not reassuring anymore and my pulse jumped as I tried to move away and he captured my wrist with his other hand and he pushed me backwards and even though I began to struggle my back hit the couch and I felt as if was being swallowed whole by those lumpy cushions and his body ran the length of mine and held me down and I could not get away though I struggled and I began to cry and I could barely breathe because my chest was being crushed beneath his hands were moving too fast and he was so much bigger and so much stronger than I was so even though I shoved with all my strength I could not move him and sometimes when I look back I think maybe it happened like they say in the movies it happened so fast I can barely remember but I know that it didn’t because minutes dragged on and I recall every excruciating second and maybe that’s why it’s so hard to explain to people because you cannot possibly know without having felt the way that he pushed his body against mine and the arm of the couch on the back of my neck and his knee on my leg and his elbow in my ribs and his tongue in my mouth and you cannot possibly understand the shame I felt when he moved away and I did not know what to do when his voice came from somewhere within the house asking me if I wanted a drink so I burst from his door and out onto an unfamiliar street and I don’t know how I got home but you cannot possibly understand why I put my clothes in the washing machine and I showered and washed my hair and brushed my teeth until my gums bled and you cannot possibly talk to me about regret because you don’t know what regret is.

Friday, July 30, 2010

I feel like.

I feel like it's about time I wrote an update. I'm back to uni now, so (apart from the party I'm having tonight) everything should be going back to boring. Ish.

Lists are always pretty fun, raight? This was my holiday:

  1. Jackson went to Vietnam.
  2. Luna on Essex and then Mojo's for too much cider and Wide Open Mike with Aleks.
  3. Got ink.
  4. Driving with Blake, Leon and Al.
  5. Dinner at Duncan's then Rise and getting locked out of Al's car >:(
  6. BILL BAILEY.
  7. Breakfast date with Linley.
  8. Marlies's party with Elena and Marina.
  9. Stan and Patrick watch me play hockey.
  10. Writer's Retreat in Mandurah with Emily, Deb, Lauren, Shane and Patrick (for one night).
  11. ON THE BRIGHT SIDE with Breanna, Jane, Lisa and Jesse. Fucking amazing.
  12. Jackson back from Vietnam.
  13. Now.

Of course, this is all interdispersed with occasional work, some hockey, and constant Patrick.

Photos when I am less lazy (so, maybe never?).

Thursday, July 15, 2010

Anguish.

Anguish. That was the word. That was what she felt. Not always, of course – who could survive such a fate? – but enough. Anguish was what she knew. Anguish was what she wrote.

As she sat, knees hugged to her chest on a makeshift bench overlooking the river, a notebook and pen beside her, she saw it. She was surrounded by bird calls and the rustling of wind as it rushed, nonplussed by her presence, through the trees. The river was a mirror, faithfully reflecting the unbroken, blue sky above. She watched with keen eyes the languid movements of a water bird as it floated aimlessly over the surface, sending ripples in its wake. The sun burned high above her, constant and watchful as a life-long friend, but so very out of reach.

There was no anguish here – no anger, no hurt, no betrayal. No anguish; just life. Right?

I never knew it could feel this good. But even as she thought the words, she knew they weren’t real, and her pen did not touch paper. Even in her own mind – that sacred cavern that she guarded so fiercely, that precious prison that could not be penetrated – she would not acknowledge the truth. Like a fool, she refused to let the words form, instead forcing them aside and replacing them with beautiful, perfect lies.

Because even here – surrounded by everything she held as pure and untouched in a world she despised with such fervour – even here the sounds of tires on asphalt sliced clean through the air, as anguish sliced through her heart.

Monday, July 5, 2010

Perhaps.

Perhaps I should clarify something. The poem in the post before this one is about my trichotillomania, tattoos, and a boy. It's about when I know things might not be good for me, but when I can't stop going back for more.

That's it.

Thursday, July 1, 2010

Fragments.

Fragments of my mind are detatching. They float off into the ether.
What a cliché...



I’ll pull the hairs one by one
So I can savour the sting
As the flesh jerks

I’ll brand myself something sinful
So I can relish the buzz of the needle
Puncturing my skin

I’ll never say no to you
So tomorrow I’ll have something
To cry about for hours

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

We had a movie night.

We had a movie night at Jackson's the other day. Stan and Jackson picked Patrick and I up from ours and we went to get movies. Silence of the Lambs, Evolution, Gamer and some Asian shit Stan picked up ;)

Back at Jackson, Stan made stir-fry for the boys. Marlo, Megan and Julian turned up at some point. We all watched Silence of the Lambs and Gamer. Patrick threw a shirt at me, and in the proccess of throwing it back I knocked a glass of coke off the counter above me and it went all down my back. I was unimpressed. I blame Patrick entirely.


The three late comers were the first to leave, then Patrick, Stan, Jackson and I managed to waste away a few hours, until Jackson ordered everyone to sleep. Stan and Patrick, unimpressed by the idea, decided to leave, so Jackson and I finallyyyyyy got to go to bed.

The next day we slept almost completely through. We were up at... Four, maybe? We did nothing for a while then took Bowman the dog for a walk when it got dark. Jackson tried to make me run, but I informed him I don't run without a tennis racket or a hockey stick in hand. Silly boy.

What lovely, lazy days I've been having. Holidays are bliss.

Photos, anyone?

A series of attractive Jackson expressions:






Disturbing on so many levels (Patrick - Stan looks virtually normal):


Aww, just like one big happy family (So many tangled limbs)!:

Pre ridiculously drunk at a Justin Walshe Folk Machine gig in North Perth:

The next night, at a play about child abuse (we're such a bunch of socialites):

Saturday, June 19, 2010

Lament.

Lament

They say to me, “Time means nothing at all
“It’s what you do with it that matters”
But sand through the glass takes an age to fall
I dwell on silence that nothing shatters
Where the desire did burn and ache and tug
This time hurt festers into something sour
But the emptiness that I gouged and dug
Means little when I change with each hour
The notes and beats which were once so soothing
May now sound to me so mocking and vile
But time says they will again be moving
One day I will remember us and smile
Though I’ll look back fondly on love and lust
For now your mix-tapes sit and gather dust

It's a sonnet. So what?

Monday, June 14, 2010

Today.

Today was one of the laziest days of my life.

Last night Patrick and I stayed at Jacksons. We watched movies, we had some sheesha, we were mesmerized by a ventriloquist with a duck. We went to bed at about 5am. Jackson said I passed out on the couch in the living room, but I woke up on the couch in the front room. Funny, that.

I think I was awake by about 1. Jackson came into the front room and took up all my lying space. I don't think we actually got up till about 3. Patrick, who was sleeping on a mattress on the floor, definitely didn't stir till about then. Jacksons brother got home from school before we'd moved.

We spent the remainder of the daylight watching youtube. My Dad picked Patrick and I up. Now I'm here... I have an exam tomorrow. Eep.

On Saturday I had an exam too. After, I had just enough time to wolf down a bowl of pasta before my hockey game. Got home to text messages from Patrick and Jackson saying come out etc. I caved, showered, train-ed, and met them in the city. Meg and others were with them too. We went to The Court. Jackson made me drink things fast.

Jackon and I stayed the night at Patricks. We took the train home, and at the train station I walked into a bench three or four times. Patrick had a feast of vending machine food and Jackson disappeared for quite a while.

The next day... was a blur. I don't remember much of the day time at all. It's entirely possible that's because we slept through it. Every time I'm with those boys we don't seem to sleep until 6am at the earliest.

Why did I write all that in reverse? I think my brain is going to implode.

Now whaaaaaaaat....................? Self destruct.

Monday, May 31, 2010

It's study week.

It's study week this week which means I'm watching movies, writing, sewing, and just generally avoiding studying.

I wrote a short story today which I kind of like (at the moment). Sent it to a few people. They didn't say anything about it. Does this mean it's shit? Probably. Meh.

I really want to re-read my novel and try to write some more for it.

I'm currently making a risotto for my dinner, and later tonight I will probably make an apple pie because I've been craving one for sooo long, and it's not my washing up night tonight so win-win situation hey?

Going to finish sewing my bloody dress soon too. Gathering the skirt is taking so damn long. It best be worth it or I'll probably cry.

So there. Plenty of activities other than study to occupy my time. Lovely.

Monday, May 24, 2010

Didn't I?

Didn't I promise that my posts on here would no longer be like those bellow? Sheesh.

Here, have two photos from Groovin the Moo:


Hehehehehehehehe....
And, anyone for some terrible poetry??

http://prittee1.deviantart.com/art/Cross-to-Bear-165128605

Kbye.

Sunday, May 16, 2010

Wow.

Wow, I have changed a lot. It hit me last night at Groovin the Moo. I don't really know who I am anymore.

I feel sort of demoralised and useless - incapable of resolution and lacking the fight I used to have in me. It's kind of sad.

I used to be a really strong, confident person, didn't I? I knew what direction I was heading in. I knew what my limits were. I don't feel like I have any limits anymore. It's scary. I feel like I'm pushing myself too far.

I find myself going to further and further extremes, these days. Recently I've gone places I used to think I never would. But it doesn't seem to matter so much anymore.

I don't feel as if I have anyones expectations to live up to, but this isn't a good thing. I still want my parents to be proud of me, but I can do whatever I want when I'm out without them really knowing about it. I used to want to be good for someone, but I lost them long ago.

This is a horrible come-down.

Thursday, May 13, 2010

Apparently.

Free IQ Tests
Free-IQTest.net - Free IQ Tests

Apparently this makes me a genius. Shows how accurate these tests are.

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

I feel like.

I feel like time is running out. I constantly see sand filtering through an hourglass in my mind. If I stop what I'm doing and pay attention to it, something happens to my lungs. It's hard to breathe.

I don't think I've ever been so frightened in my life. What's happening?

Sunday, May 2, 2010

Taking a break.

Taking a break from my pile of homework to write something that doesn't require a ridiculous amount of referencing >:(

Last Monday Lisa, Maz and I went to Wide Open Mic at Mojos. Katiy joined us soon after. We stayed for a little while but started to feel rude because we were talking while the people were playing. We decided to go on an adventure.

We drove to the shops to grab some supplies: cookies, shapes, iced coffee, red bull for Kaity, four little plastic bottles, flour and food colouring. Oh yes, we had a plan. Lisa told us of a little basketball court under the bridge in North Fremantle, so that's where we headed. We filledour little bottles with flour, food colouring and river water and painted a lovely little mural and (after a little complaining by me about the fact that we are university students and traditionally we're supposed to be the activists and why were we never doing any cool protesting like they do in the movies and blah blah) a message. Humans > Robots. Duh.



My parents were confused by my blue hands when I returned home at about 11. What a wonderful night of fun.

In other news, apparently self-loathing is causing me to make enemys of people that I don't disslike. Yes, thanks for the info. So what the fuck do I do about it?

Congratulations Elisa. You're stupid.

Monday, April 19, 2010

WELL.

WELL FUCK. It seems fairly obvious now that I am not going to recieve any exciting photos from Fairbridge, so I'm gonna roll with none. Feck, this'll be boring with no eye-candy. I'll try to google some photos perhaps? Nah... Can't find any decent ones... Here's the only one I took all weekend, and it's of Kate. SIGH.


Plus one of me being rad and Katie in the foreground:


Thursday night saw Kate and I buying supplies. Canned goods, bread and cake galore. Disgusting. Stayed the night at hers in her theatre room (yeah, what a whore, I know). Friday we probably should have set off early, but we didn't. I doubt anyone is surprised.

The drive to Fairbridge takes maybe one hour. We drove with the windows down, so that air pumped through the car and whipped our hair into tangled nests. I stuck my head out and stared at the sky, a huge grin plastered across my face. Life felt good.

Who knows what we did that afternoon. Met up with Mariion (would like to point out that, yes, her name is spelt with one i, but she thinks it looks cooler with two, and I agree ;D), Katie, Elena and Marina. At night we wandered to the outskirts of the area to have a smoke and a giggle. Er, and then? My memorie's turned to sludge.

Saturday we went to the dining hall for drinkies, I bought a huge lolly in the shape of a foot which took me an immeasurable time to consume and we discussed drawing moustaches on each other. Hum.

We then went to some gigs (What? At a music festival? Surely not!). They were good, but the most memorable was certainly Daniel Champagne. I do hope he doesn't read this. Not that I'm going to say anything particularly contraversial...







Half way through Elena, Marina and Kate left on a personal errand (I don't actually know why they went) so Maz, Katie and I were alone. Katie, mesmerized by Daniels crazy guitar skillz and still slightly inebriated, waited until a particularly quiet part in a song to announce "This is AMAZING!" and sent us off into giggles. People probably thought we were rather rude, but Daniel said later that he didn't hear us laughing...

After the show we accosted him backstage - as you do. We told him we had no money so we couldn't buy his cd but what was he doing later? Nothing, he didn't really know anyone, so we invited him to whatever it was we had planned. Somehow Katie managed to suggest that he could sleep outside thier tent. How did this come up? Who knows. He gave me his number.

A while later we found a spot behind some mounds of dirt - class - and I sent off a text to Daniel. He came and found us and we had another smoke. We spent most of the rest of the night hanging out, feasting, smoking, drinking and falling over (in the case of... Who? I will not name-names, you drunkard).

When we were all in Kate and I's (? this can not be grammatically correct) tent, Kate and I had an argument in Danish. She wanted to go home, I said she was drunk etc. She left, and I professed to the tent at large that she would not actually go. She did. A text in the morning confirmed that she was still alive and well, back in Perth.

Sunday I spent with Maz and Katie. I fell asleep in Katies car in the afternoon - I know, terrible effort. We left some time in the evening. Katies car battery was dead, so Maz and I pushed it up a hill, then back down again to push-start it. Great success.

I'm getting sick of writing this now because I can not remember all the exciting bits. My brain is so addled. It was an amazing weekend - what more can I say?

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Something.

Something to fill the time.

http://prittee1.deviantart.com/art/FUCK-160556788

I will be posting some words about Fairbridge as soon as I recieve some photographic evidence.

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

FOR CRYING OUT LOUD.

For cyring out loud, I'm a retard. From now on, this blog will be different... Maybe.



Last night was fabulous. After dinner, Mariion, Lisa, Claudia and I walked down to Bicton baths. It was just before midnight, I think. We had set up camp on the grass by the shore - a blanket with all our equipment in the middle.

There was a noise from near by; a laugh, but one that seemed contrived. It spread from the murky area by some upturned row boats. A single burst of laughter - one person's mirth. It was odd.

For a while, there was nothing more, and we decided to continue as planned. The only sign of life from that area for the rest of the night was when a man emerged, topless and adjusting his pants. He stepped out of the shaddows for only a moment, before returning. I can't imagine what he was doing.

Others joined us a little later and we spoke with them for some time. Lisa tired of our adventure soon after. The leftovers up at Mariions house were clearly beckoning for her to return. The two of them began sending text messages to each other. I stole Mariions phone when she was consumed with giggles and continued the exchange. I don't remember much of the conversation, but I do recall having particular problems when I attempted to write, "Just relax you tricky dicky!".

We left. Claudia and I were walking slightly behind Lisa and Mariion when a comment I made about the world being in fast forward cause the two in front to pick up the pace. Eventually, they were sprinting away from us.

When we got home we ate a rather disturbing amount of food between us, before we four retired to the two-man tent that had been set up in the garden earlier in the day.

Oh, but it was a good night.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

When I'm not doing anything.

When I'm not doing anything I feel a bit shit. Now is one of those times. I'm in between awesome things.

Yesterday I met with Megan and Patrick. We went to Freo. Meg and I had different tofu meals at the upmarkets. It was very zen.

I stayed the night with her. I wrote, and she drew, and then we watched Fantastic Mr. Fox. I wrote what I think may be called an article of some sort. It was part anger, part cynacism, and part contentment. What an odd combination.

I came home this morning and now I am looking up vegetarian recipes and sipping the lemon lime and bitters I just concocted.

This evening I am going to dinner at Mariions house with Lisa and others. We will eat before heading down to Bicton Baths to camp out under the stars and consume elicit substances.

I hate the waiting.

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

There's my heart.

There’s my heart.
Where?
There, on the floor.
That?
Yes.
Why is it there?
That’s where you put it
after you stood on it
after you jumped on it
after you spat on it
but guess what?
What?
I don’t need it anymore. I don’t need you anymore.

This is what I have resolved:
I am alone for a reason. There are things I have to do; things I need to achieve. I do not need anyone, but more than that, I do not want anyone. They will only get in my way.
Don't think that this is a temporary resolution. This is who I am now.

Monday, March 29, 2010

I am seious.

I am seriously thinking about what to do with my life. I don't think I'm enjoying uni as much as I should be because I am not really into my course.

I always just assumes that uni would be where I ended up, but what if it is not for me? There's nothing I want to do but write.

I wish I hadn't defered already, so I could defer now and have some time to just write without having to worry about deadlines and responsibilities for a while. Then maybe I could finish my novel and actually give it a chance. I could try my luck with publishing.

I suppose for now the smart thing to do is to stay in school and just try to get the most I can out of it.

I always make things difficult for myself >:(

Monday, March 15, 2010

Oh hello.

Oh hello blog, fancy seeing you here. It's time to review.

1. I've started university now - enjoying it for the most part. I just love being at uni. The UWA campus is just gorgeous. I'm already ahead on my assignments, but falling behind on my reading (who's surprised?).

2. I'm working two or three times a week back at Flipside. It's still good fun, and the people are cool, but it's so ridiculously busy all the time. It's stressful, and I'm not sure how much longer I'm going to want to be doing it.

3. I've just started hockey again (played for the first time on Saturday). Next weekend I will be playing a two day competition down in Bunbury, which I am really looking forward to. Also, the plan is for me to be assistant coach for one of the junior teams this year.

4. Relatioship status is non-existant. I'm over the drama. I don't want any of it anymore. Attractive boys should stay away from me because they are just a distraction.

5. I'm taking creative writing at uni so I've been writing at least one piece every week, which I'm very happy about. My novel, however, has been put on hold due to lack of time and inspiration. People are quite annoyed at me for this, but that's life I guess.

Those five points kind of summarise my life at the moment. Is that sad?

THE END.

Friday, February 19, 2010

I feel compelled

I feel compelled to write. I should probably add to my novel. That's clearly not what I'm doing. I'm here.

It was O-Fest today, which means I'm drawing ridiculously closer to university. How did this happen? I have to start learning things soon.

I had a fairly good day, which ended in a quick trip to facebook, and as a result, a huge cry in my room with my mum.

A month or so ago I would have told you with complete honesty that I was totally happy with the person I am/was. I would have said, "Sure, I know I'm not perfect, but I can see and accept all those imperfections."

Today, I would have told you that I hate myself. There is one person who never fails to make me feel this way. This disgusts me. You should not allow your happiness to rely on someone else.

I am entirely unsatisfied, but I'm hoping that uni will change things for me. Perhaps it will provide a distraction. Maybe I will meet new people.

But for now, there is nothing left.

Sunday, February 7, 2010

Fuck.

FFFFFUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKK.

Fucking fuck fuck fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

Fuck my life. Fuck you. Fucking hell. Fucking bullshit. Fucking arsehole.

I just want to fucking... Mother fucker.

If I had only - if you would just - but fuck! You're so fucking - and I'm so fucking - and they don't even - I hate this.

This is not helpful at all. Fuck.

Thursday, January 21, 2010

I'm home.

I'm home and it feels fabulous. It's summer:


Hello heat, hello sun. I missed you, my old friends.
Every day is filled with friends and fun. It's good to have my old life back again.
On Friday I will be entering my last year of teenager-dom.

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Angry.

Angry angry.

Sad.

Happy happy.

Scared.

Excited.

Overwhelmed.

Sunday, January 3, 2010

2009

2009 was a good year, overall.

Let's explore it. Every month defined by one photo.

January


February


March


April


May


June


July


August


September


October


November


December


Yeah, it's been pretty sweet :)