It's been a long time coming, but here we are.
I had intended to make a post on graduation day, but with all the yahooing and having a great time and being exquisitely happy and such...time got away from me. Then a whole week got away from me on Schoolies, but we wont go into that. Then time sort of buzzed around me aimlessly for the weeks since and my computer screen has the added inconvenience of the screen being smashed in BUT LIKE I SAID - here we are! (on Mum's computer!!)
As I read through my old blog posts where I lamented how depressingly horrid school is...I am now very proud to look back upon how depressingly horrid school was. Oh yes, take that - you filthy son of a no-good yellow belly, I just referred to you in past tense.
And do you want to know how liberating that is?? You cannot begin to imagine.
Although lately I seem to be suffering from post-schoolies depression (as it would appear they call it). For a week I partied and drank and cut Rob's hair and wrote erotic fiction. I guess it didn't really occur to me that I had leaped into a giant pool of uncertainty. As soon as I spent my first day back in the real world something stirred inside me.
Something gruesome.
A feeling that clouds my chest and induces instant absent-mindedness. Fear, worthlessness and general wtf poisons my veins. A Jetstar quality sleeping mask of useless and anti-purpose was slung around my eyes, partially blocking some light of lucidity out (not all of it though, those masks are so shit). I don't know why that's in past tense to be honest - I still have no idea whats going on.
Or what I'm going to do with all this freedom.
What? I can go and create the life of my dreams? Really? I never have to do anything I don't want to again? Well of course I'll do jury duty and abide by the law. But, do you honestly mean, the rest is up to me?
You see, this is the part where I freak out. Where do I start?? My gosh, I don't believe in plans. Only crazy ideas. What on earth am I going to do? Buddha? Oprah? A little help please?
And then there's the added hysteria of some crap called an "OP".
Your "Overall Position"
What a funny name for it! Overall position. It implies it not only judges how well you did in your school subjects compared to everyone else and you QCS BUT your intelligence, you as a person and well everything because it's your overall position.
If you got a 1 congratulations because you must be really smart and always do your washing on time and answer every question on Who Wants To Be A Millionaire right and never forget to feed your fish, you're the kind of person who will always be best man or maid of honour at a wedding because your overall position is numero uno. Bravo.
What did I get, you ask? Fucked if I know. I decided I'm not going to find out. I mean, I never really asked QSA "On a scale of 1 to 25...how awesome am I?" so why should I care that they weighed me up anyway?
I'm not afraid of it being bad or even good (although my mother, desperate to find out actually knows what I got and said it was better than my prediction) but still, that's not the point. Everyone missed the point. They all want to know. I simply say: It's kinda like the Smiths. They broke up, yeah? One of the greatest bands ever ever. If they hadn't broken up they'd be like U2 and be smearing shit all over the walls of dignity and would upset me, lots. The same would happen if they got back together. Quote Morrisey: "I would rather eat my own testicles than re-form The Smiths, and that's saying something for a vegetarian"
You said it boy. "We are not friends, we don't see each other. Why on earth would we be on a stage together?"
Perfect.
"It was a fantastic journey, and then it ended."
That's how I feel, except replace the Smiths breaking up with me leaving school. Its the same ideal. Its over. I'm just not going there. It's up to me to find my own value, my own "overall position". I never gave a fuck what other people thought of me as a person, especially those who don't know me. Why would I start now?
I'm gonna live my life. I tell you what, it's going to be great. As soon as I figure out what I want to do. And so long as I keep feeling fascination and entertaining my crazy ideas. But it's great regardless..why?? Schools out, suckers!
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Charlotte Sometimes
Just looking at Charlotte I hear that same ol' tune....bahm bah ba bahm and see myself carrying her train gracefully into her fictional ceremony.
The Beautiful Bride-to-be
As fictional maid of honour, I have written a poem to recite in my toast to the happy couple.
Love of Mine
This is what we shall have, dear Love of Mine
Not a world of fancy, but of life, divine.
May our hearts have never a day with greed
For in our bodies we have all we need.
May our love be the same cold on the streets
Or in luxury, wrapped in silken sheets.
May we never run out of words to speak
Even if we shall not talk for a week.
May our hands harden when weather is rough
For our touch will be tender enough.
May our feet be worn as we walk together
Yet remain our spirits light as feather.
May they let the rain and lightning come
We can find shelter and wait for the sun.
May we dream of love brighter than fame
And awake to a world just the same.
Congratulations Charlie, I wish you and......... all the best xx
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
After The Fall
Okay so I get inspiration at the very most random times. Like any writer. So when I do I pick up a pen and write...duh! So yesterday as I was walking from English to Modern History by cutting across the quad I was thinking of Rick on the young ones saying "as if you really are a Cliff!" which turned into "he looked over the cliff as if" and THEN I saw Spencer Cliff and said Hi (great guy). So I was like, this is going somewhere. So in History I wrote a poem, and my dear Jack read it and said I should publish it, so I guess I am.
So Spencer, because you've always wanted a blog about you I hope this sort of counts because your last name was a bit of inspiration for this poem. Even though it's every depressing and has nothing to do with you as a person, just your last name. It's about a cliff :P
There he stood on the edge of the cliff
His eyes looking down as if
He would leap into the depths below
But in honesty he does not know.
Once he had tied a noose
But remembered what he had to lose
Then in water he would meet his death
Until he had come up for breath
But this was unlike a rope or a lake
Just one jump is all it would take
Just one step into the black
and there would be no turning back
His life is so filled with sorrow
He does not want to see tomorrow
He has chose night, no one would hear the thump
No one would scream "Don't jump"
There is but one who can save him now
It's himself if he only knew how
He only has to see his children and wife
To realise there is a point to life
But this he does not know
And steps into the depths below
As he falls he begins to wonder
As fear strikes him like thunder
What if there is a reason to live
When I am so loved and have so much love to give
He saw lucid visions of his past
And knew this minute was his last
He couldn't start over with a clean slate
For he was falling and it was too late
The night was dark, there was no moon
He didn't think he'd land so soon.
Before he knew it he had breathed his last breath
And at last had fallen to his death
For a second there was black and silence all around,
Until there was nothing, no colour, no sound.
Sorry to depress you all so much. You should all listen to Owl Eyes now to cheer yourselves up.
Leave a comment!
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Lazy Sunday Afternoon
There's no one to hear me, there's nothing to say, and no one can stop me from feeling this way...
That's from Lazy Sunday by Small Faces - who seemed to be rather proud that they had nothing to do in the afternoon other than sit on the lawn being slobbish and cockney. Find the song (and kinda weird video for it) here.
I myself absolutely detest the afternoon. Worst part of the day in fact. The sun lowers and sears your retinas out so you pull down the blinds but the obnoxious sun still shines through in that incredibly depressing "yeah its afternoon bitches" sort of way while it giggles with pleasure at how annoyed I am that it is in fact "after noon". Sorry about my love for "run on sentences" by the way, I can never help myself.
I can't really explain why it annoys me so much except that it for some reason is always very boring. More boring than say...60 Minutes special on neighbourhood predators? Or even a Degrassi episode centred on L.D. (the most boring girl on Degrassi Street...I bet she loves afternoons). It's that time of day where if you have a friend over you have lots of awkward silences in between a conversation that is typically thus: "Wadda you wanna do?" "Dunno, wadda you wanna do?" "I wanna do whatever you wanna do" and so forth. You probably end up playing a "no one cares" game of Trivial Pursuit or watching one of those horrible afternoon movies on Channel 7 like "Working Girl"(shuddddder) and sitting on the carpet on the floor whilst wishing there was something better in the fridge.
I think I would rather die.
There's also that nasty "nostalgia" business that I can't really escape once it ticks passed 12pm. I can't help but remember primary school holidays when Nanna would make me eat fruit while she and Pop watched the ABC news (which is the most boring news ever, the theme for it still haunts me in my sleep) and no cartoons were on. Or when I would sit in my bedroom and play with my paper dolls and get annoyed really easily by their lack of ability to stand upright. Or worse...on Saturdays after I had eaten macaroni for lunch and Mum would go for an "afternoon nap". Afternoon naps are gross blergh. People only nap in the afternoons because there's nothing better do to. Which is my point exactly.
Noon is alright though. If you are at school you know that it's nearly fourth period and you can go have lunch soon. If you are at home you can have lunch early and watch Doctor Phil or have it a little later and watch Oprah. Or eat really slowly and watch both. Whatever.
Once it’s after noon however, it is afternoon. Which is pretty horrible. A sudden rush of boredom and a hot, sticky and "fat" feeling washes over you and you have a sudden urge to not do anything interesting. I suppose I could look for more music (which, if you currently are doing please check out Magic Kids album 'Memphis'...it's pretty good) or watch a movie or do jumping jacks or something but the evil afternoon sun forces me to look at crap on eBay and think about how fat I'm getting or stalk people on facebook out of spite.
It kills me it really does. I have to face it every single day. I hate it with a vengeance. I always look like crap in the afternoon but the afternoon makes it crapper. I have to walk home from work or school in the afternoon and feel like crap. Afternoons are crap in every single manner of the word except for Small Faces. They make afternoons sound sort of decent. Maybe they are in England after all it's not supposed to be sunny there. Maybe they just suck in Australia? Or maybe they just suck for me?
Leave a comment and tell me what your afternoons are like. And if you read this because it's afternoon and your bored shitless, I hope reading this made you reconsider your mood to being simply "bored" by omitting the "shitless".
Good afternoon (there ain't no such thing).
That's from Lazy Sunday by Small Faces - who seemed to be rather proud that they had nothing to do in the afternoon other than sit on the lawn being slobbish and cockney. Find the song (and kinda weird video for it) here.
I myself absolutely detest the afternoon. Worst part of the day in fact. The sun lowers and sears your retinas out so you pull down the blinds but the obnoxious sun still shines through in that incredibly depressing "yeah its afternoon bitches" sort of way while it giggles with pleasure at how annoyed I am that it is in fact "after noon". Sorry about my love for "run on sentences" by the way, I can never help myself.
I can't really explain why it annoys me so much except that it for some reason is always very boring. More boring than say...60 Minutes special on neighbourhood predators? Or even a Degrassi episode centred on L.D. (the most boring girl on Degrassi Street...I bet she loves afternoons). It's that time of day where if you have a friend over you have lots of awkward silences in between a conversation that is typically thus: "Wadda you wanna do?" "Dunno, wadda you wanna do?" "I wanna do whatever you wanna do" and so forth. You probably end up playing a "no one cares" game of Trivial Pursuit or watching one of those horrible afternoon movies on Channel 7 like "Working Girl"(shuddddder) and sitting on the carpet on the floor whilst wishing there was something better in the fridge.
I think I would rather die.
There's also that nasty "nostalgia" business that I can't really escape once it ticks passed 12pm. I can't help but remember primary school holidays when Nanna would make me eat fruit while she and Pop watched the ABC news (which is the most boring news ever, the theme for it still haunts me in my sleep) and no cartoons were on. Or when I would sit in my bedroom and play with my paper dolls and get annoyed really easily by their lack of ability to stand upright. Or worse...on Saturdays after I had eaten macaroni for lunch and Mum would go for an "afternoon nap". Afternoon naps are gross blergh. People only nap in the afternoons because there's nothing better do to. Which is my point exactly.
Noon is alright though. If you are at school you know that it's nearly fourth period and you can go have lunch soon. If you are at home you can have lunch early and watch Doctor Phil or have it a little later and watch Oprah. Or eat really slowly and watch both. Whatever.
Once it’s after noon however, it is afternoon. Which is pretty horrible. A sudden rush of boredom and a hot, sticky and "fat" feeling washes over you and you have a sudden urge to not do anything interesting. I suppose I could look for more music (which, if you currently are doing please check out Magic Kids album 'Memphis'...it's pretty good) or watch a movie or do jumping jacks or something but the evil afternoon sun forces me to look at crap on eBay and think about how fat I'm getting or stalk people on facebook out of spite.
It kills me it really does. I have to face it every single day. I hate it with a vengeance. I always look like crap in the afternoon but the afternoon makes it crapper. I have to walk home from work or school in the afternoon and feel like crap. Afternoons are crap in every single manner of the word except for Small Faces. They make afternoons sound sort of decent. Maybe they are in England after all it's not supposed to be sunny there. Maybe they just suck in Australia? Or maybe they just suck for me?
Leave a comment and tell me what your afternoons are like. And if you read this because it's afternoon and your bored shitless, I hope reading this made you reconsider your mood to being simply "bored" by omitting the "shitless".
Good afternoon (there ain't no such thing).
Friday, September 3, 2010
10 Lessons I Learned From Degrassi High
Degrassi High - the totally awesome spin-off that came somewhere in between Degrassi Junior High and the less than impressive Degrassi: School's Ooot! (The exclamation mark added by Linda Schuyler NOT me, I only tampered with "Out", you all know why.)
This was school full of kids with such a plethora of problems there seemed to be a new issue for every episode, and some that carried on throughout the series (like AIDS and cancer...and teenage motherhood!). Now from these poor kids us privileged kids can learn lessons the easy way...by either watching Degrassi High or by reading this here blog (yeah, this one!).
Lesson Number 1 - DO NOT HAVE SEX
During the whole Degrassi series (excluding next gen) I would say about 3 couples had sex, once, each! Studies show that all three girls who engaged in such dirty acts got pregnant. All to assholes/acid-trippers/randoms they sorta knew. So yes ladies, ALL men are impregnators so no sex - you WILL get pregnant. Then you will have to decide if you want an abortion, which 2 girls did. Alternatively you could have the child and be the single mother of a girl who will one day grow old and become the star of yet another spin-off that you can still star in (yes, YOU!).
So boys, keep in your pants. I know you're horny but you're not that horny are you? Bad question, I'll rephrase that. You don't want kids right now do you?? Yeah. Stick with socks until your older.
EDIT I just remembered another person who had sex. See lesson 3.
Lesson Number 2 - Interracial Relationships Don't Work For Some Reason
Now Degrassi sure loved the good old chocolate&vanilla...almost as much as they loved tearing them apart. So Exhibit A: Michelle (the white chick) - has a racist father, yet has been going out with BLT (the cool black guy who raps in the halls, NOT a sandwich) - the token black dude who for some reason carries a basketball alllll the time. Now he and Michelle went out for like ever, getting past Michelle's mile-long list of annoying problems and her crazy fit when she was doped up on No Doze. Inexplicably, we come back next summer and apparently BLT has been going out with Cindy (the black chick) - a frizzy haired bitch who wears pastel Lycra pants all the damn time and steals Michelle's BLT and her friends. Why did BLT leave Michelle for Cindy? Because Cindy was the less controversial option, I suppose. Btw Michelle totally got back at BLT, she chucked milk on him when he was wearing a singlet. You could see the milk real good.
Exhibit B: Lucy (the black chick) - totally over-involved in EVERYTHING, do-gooder, possibly had anorexia once but is really smart and pretty and likes making shit films. You think because she was the hottest chick at Degrassi High she could get any guy she wants...you'd be wrong. She has a few one-episode flings with white guys like Clutch and some other guy who I can't remember the name of but apparently he's "booked to the year 2000" if you know what I mean. ANYWAY the only relationship she had that lasted right up until she was left blinded and paralyzed in Schools OOT was Bronco. Bronco was the nerdy black guy that was pretty much the male Lucy, and he totally didn't mind the fact she was a loud-mouthed bitch.
SO yeah, if you want to be lucky in love, be racist!
Lesson Three - Don't Be Big Fat Bully
-because you'll get AIDs. Or at least HIV. And because no one knows too much about it (because it is the 80's after all) everyone is going to hate you and ostracize you and fear you. Not in the like "awww shit hope he doesn't steal my lunch money/body slam me" kinda way, or even the "Dayummm he's like so fat and ugly" kinda way, more like "FUCK HE'S CONTAGIOUS!!" kinda way. Yeah you don't want that. Totally do not dob on that kid that took bets so he could buy a car and is walking through the quad with nothing but a hat - it'll come back to you, asshole! Karma is a bitch, so be nice.
Lesson Four - Your Boyfriend Is NOT A Humanitarian Just Because He Has A Ponytail
He's actually a total pussy. He probably pretends to care about shit for the image. He'll win you over by talking weird and dressing weird and probably liking foreign films of the political slant. You can waste time giving out fliers and going to rallies or you can take my advice. Find something you actually believe in and pursue it yourself, because if you go to some "Canadian Bomb Factory" to vandalise the walls you'll get caught and he'll run away and refuse to go to court with you because he's a pussy. He's a fake, just dump him and totally don't read that note he leaves you after he blows his brains out in the boys toilets because no one likes his gay poems, because he's going to blame you for it. Yeah, nasty stuff. Steer clear of guys with ponytails!!
Lesson Five - The Annoying Fat Girl Will Get Her Licence Before You
You and your friends will all turn 16 and get real excited about learning to drive. You'll be less excited when that fat chick no one really likes rocks up to your class and acts like a total know it all bitch. While she somehow can drive perfectly (provided she can fit in the car) you on the other hand will go on cardboard-people massacres every time you put the key in the ignition. No biggie, you'll get there one day. Unfortunately before that day comes you'll have to deal with a fat bitch like Nancy driving to school in that red convertible her parents bought for her. Yeah Nancy, having a cool car doesn't make you less fat, or annoying. You will get your licence some day so just chill and try not to roll her down a hill, okay?
Lesson Six - Dump Your Boyfriend Who Is Possibly The Coolest Guy Ever
So you're a teenage mum with some fucked up hair, and your short. Yeah, your short, like really short. Obviously all the guys are gonna be coming after ya, right? Well no actually, but a really cool guy called Patrick probably will. He's got an Irish accent so you assume he's Irish, he likes the Pogues (so do you, right?), likes the same punk shit you do, likes writing songs about you that don't totally suck, likes singing and playing guitar not shittishly, BUT most of all, he likes you. He's really sweet too. So dump him. Don't ask why, just do it. Even though your friends think it's really stupid that you're dumping this guy, do it anyway. Don't ask questions!
Lesson Seven - Do NOT Make A Feminist Horror Movie
It's going to suck no matter how you look at it, okay? Just don't, uh! You're class mates are just going to laugh at how shit it is, not at your cinematic masterpiece, okay? Jesus.
Lesson Eight - There IS A Cure For Cancer
and it's shitty 80's style v-logs. The ones you watch on the VCR and TV set because no one has computers yet, let alone webcams. So if you're lying in bed with Acute Leukemia and have a 70% chance of dying and look a bit shit in a wig, simply get your annoying friend who thinks she's a film goddess to make you some shit diary videos about her complaining about how much her life sucks. Her life totally does suck. She had no one ask her to the dance for goodness sake, so stop bitching about your Leukemia because soon enough you'll get better and go sailing around the world with your dad. Unfortunately however, that chick is still going to find a way to send you those stupid videos, so don't take a VCR. At least there is a cure for cancer!!
Lesson Nine - Don't Move Out Of Home
You will only end up with a shit job at a donutshop, living in a crap apartment with party animal tenants and you will never sleep or study again. You'll piss everyone off too you fucking nutcase. Oh and you'll eventually move in with your dad again. HA! FAIL!
Lesson Ten - Life Gets Progressively Shit-er
Imagine if you were given up for adoption because your real dad didn't give shit about you and then your adoptive parents die and you realise your dad hates you and you have to live with your granny who makes you put your plate in the sink? Then you'll have to move out and live with your best friend and steal his stuff and his mum's money and then you'll be on the streets for a bit and then your grandma will take you back but who gives a shit because soon you're going to be drink driving and will blind and paralyze another friend and kill some guy's 2-year old baby and spend your life in prison.
So chin-up!!
Thanks for reading! Hope you learned something valuable!
This was school full of kids with such a plethora of problems there seemed to be a new issue for every episode, and some that carried on throughout the series (like AIDS and cancer...and teenage motherhood!). Now from these poor kids us privileged kids can learn lessons the easy way...by either watching Degrassi High or by reading this here blog (yeah, this one!).
Lesson Number 1 - DO NOT HAVE SEX
During the whole Degrassi series (excluding next gen) I would say about 3 couples had sex, once, each! Studies show that all three girls who engaged in such dirty acts got pregnant. All to assholes/acid-trippers/randoms they sorta knew. So yes ladies, ALL men are impregnators so no sex - you WILL get pregnant. Then you will have to decide if you want an abortion, which 2 girls did. Alternatively you could have the child and be the single mother of a girl who will one day grow old and become the star of yet another spin-off that you can still star in (yes, YOU!).
So boys, keep in your pants. I know you're horny but you're not that horny are you? Bad question, I'll rephrase that. You don't want kids right now do you?? Yeah. Stick with socks until your older.
EDIT I just remembered another person who had sex. See lesson 3.
Lesson Number 2 - Interracial Relationships Don't Work For Some Reason
Now Degrassi sure loved the good old chocolate&vanilla...almost as much as they loved tearing them apart. So Exhibit A: Michelle (the white chick) - has a racist father, yet has been going out with BLT (the cool black guy who raps in the halls, NOT a sandwich) - the token black dude who for some reason carries a basketball alllll the time. Now he and Michelle went out for like ever, getting past Michelle's mile-long list of annoying problems and her crazy fit when she was doped up on No Doze. Inexplicably, we come back next summer and apparently BLT has been going out with Cindy (the black chick) - a frizzy haired bitch who wears pastel Lycra pants all the damn time and steals Michelle's BLT and her friends. Why did BLT leave Michelle for Cindy? Because Cindy was the less controversial option, I suppose. Btw Michelle totally got back at BLT, she chucked milk on him when he was wearing a singlet. You could see the milk real good.
Exhibit B: Lucy (the black chick) - totally over-involved in EVERYTHING, do-gooder, possibly had anorexia once but is really smart and pretty and likes making shit films. You think because she was the hottest chick at Degrassi High she could get any guy she wants...you'd be wrong. She has a few one-episode flings with white guys like Clutch and some other guy who I can't remember the name of but apparently he's "booked to the year 2000" if you know what I mean. ANYWAY the only relationship she had that lasted right up until she was left blinded and paralyzed in Schools OOT was Bronco. Bronco was the nerdy black guy that was pretty much the male Lucy, and he totally didn't mind the fact she was a loud-mouthed bitch.
SO yeah, if you want to be lucky in love, be racist!
Lesson Three - Don't Be Big Fat Bully
-because you'll get AIDs. Or at least HIV. And because no one knows too much about it (because it is the 80's after all) everyone is going to hate you and ostracize you and fear you. Not in the like "awww shit hope he doesn't steal my lunch money/body slam me" kinda way, or even the "Dayummm he's like so fat and ugly" kinda way, more like "FUCK HE'S CONTAGIOUS!!" kinda way. Yeah you don't want that. Totally do not dob on that kid that took bets so he could buy a car and is walking through the quad with nothing but a hat - it'll come back to you, asshole! Karma is a bitch, so be nice.
Lesson Four - Your Boyfriend Is NOT A Humanitarian Just Because He Has A Ponytail
He's actually a total pussy. He probably pretends to care about shit for the image. He'll win you over by talking weird and dressing weird and probably liking foreign films of the political slant. You can waste time giving out fliers and going to rallies or you can take my advice. Find something you actually believe in and pursue it yourself, because if you go to some "Canadian Bomb Factory" to vandalise the walls you'll get caught and he'll run away and refuse to go to court with you because he's a pussy. He's a fake, just dump him and totally don't read that note he leaves you after he blows his brains out in the boys toilets because no one likes his gay poems, because he's going to blame you for it. Yeah, nasty stuff. Steer clear of guys with ponytails!!
Lesson Five - The Annoying Fat Girl Will Get Her Licence Before You
You and your friends will all turn 16 and get real excited about learning to drive. You'll be less excited when that fat chick no one really likes rocks up to your class and acts like a total know it all bitch. While she somehow can drive perfectly (provided she can fit in the car) you on the other hand will go on cardboard-people massacres every time you put the key in the ignition. No biggie, you'll get there one day. Unfortunately before that day comes you'll have to deal with a fat bitch like Nancy driving to school in that red convertible her parents bought for her. Yeah Nancy, having a cool car doesn't make you less fat, or annoying. You will get your licence some day so just chill and try not to roll her down a hill, okay?
Lesson Six - Dump Your Boyfriend Who Is Possibly The Coolest Guy Ever
So you're a teenage mum with some fucked up hair, and your short. Yeah, your short, like really short. Obviously all the guys are gonna be coming after ya, right? Well no actually, but a really cool guy called Patrick probably will. He's got an Irish accent so you assume he's Irish, he likes the Pogues (so do you, right?), likes the same punk shit you do, likes writing songs about you that don't totally suck, likes singing and playing guitar not shittishly, BUT most of all, he likes you. He's really sweet too. So dump him. Don't ask why, just do it. Even though your friends think it's really stupid that you're dumping this guy, do it anyway. Don't ask questions!
Lesson Seven - Do NOT Make A Feminist Horror Movie
It's going to suck no matter how you look at it, okay? Just don't, uh! You're class mates are just going to laugh at how shit it is, not at your cinematic masterpiece, okay? Jesus.
Lesson Eight - There IS A Cure For Cancer
and it's shitty 80's style v-logs. The ones you watch on the VCR and TV set because no one has computers yet, let alone webcams. So if you're lying in bed with Acute Leukemia and have a 70% chance of dying and look a bit shit in a wig, simply get your annoying friend who thinks she's a film goddess to make you some shit diary videos about her complaining about how much her life sucks. Her life totally does suck. She had no one ask her to the dance for goodness sake, so stop bitching about your Leukemia because soon enough you'll get better and go sailing around the world with your dad. Unfortunately however, that chick is still going to find a way to send you those stupid videos, so don't take a VCR. At least there is a cure for cancer!!
Lesson Nine - Don't Move Out Of Home
You will only end up with a shit job at a donutshop, living in a crap apartment with party animal tenants and you will never sleep or study again. You'll piss everyone off too you fucking nutcase. Oh and you'll eventually move in with your dad again. HA! FAIL!
Lesson Ten - Life Gets Progressively Shit-er
Imagine if you were given up for adoption because your real dad didn't give shit about you and then your adoptive parents die and you realise your dad hates you and you have to live with your granny who makes you put your plate in the sink? Then you'll have to move out and live with your best friend and steal his stuff and his mum's money and then you'll be on the streets for a bit and then your grandma will take you back but who gives a shit because soon you're going to be drink driving and will blind and paralyze another friend and kill some guy's 2-year old baby and spend your life in prison.
So chin-up!!
Thanks for reading! Hope you learned something valuable!
Monday, August 16, 2010
Gettin' Nothing But Static
Where's my umbrella? Gonna shoot that static down the drain. Gonna put that static out of my brain. Gonna put up my antennae. FREE!
Ah, the B-52's. Still quite possibly one of the best bands of all time for many reasons. That lyric was from their brilliant song "Channel Z" (find it here) which provides me with a general stimulus for this here blog entry. Yes this one, the one you are reading now!
Basically I've always been one of those little whiny kids who desperately wishes they lived in the pop cultural epicentre of another decade or time. I guess I think more about living in the 60's-70's-80's rather than a medieval period...I still think about that too but for the purpose of this entry (yes this one!) let's stick with the fact I wish I was a kid in the 60's, teenager in the 70's and young adult in the 80s. Or even a teenager in the 80's and a kid in the 70's...either would be good.
Many reasons why I wish this...I guess I feel as though I would fit in better. My tastes in clothing and musically sometimes looked harshly upon and constantly labelled "weird" or worse "crap". That is of course until the recyclable nature of all things retro thrusts a random interest into the laps of hipsters. Like a song that a lot of kids would mostly disregard suddenly gets played in a sewper kewl indie movie of sorts and suddenly they've "always loved it. Duh". Even when those things are cool again - I'm still not cool for liking them to begin with.
I guess it's just how I was brought up. My mother raised me with records and cassettes because I think she herself was stuck in a bit of a time warp. So The Smiths, New Order/Joy Division, Echo & The Bunnymen and The Cure all came completely naturally to me when I was five and realised there was more to music than the sailor who went to sea sea sea. I've always loved them (always) so you could possibly imagine how much it shits me that a lot of people know Joy Division because of a dumbass "Wombats" song and try to say they've always loved them, duh.
I also grew up, as all children should, watching those ever so important John Hughes films. I have absolutely no shame in admitting I love every single one of his better films (and by this I omit the Beethoven series) and oftentimes mouth every line of the Breakfast Club/Sixteen Candles/Weird Science/Ferris Bueller's Day Off/Pretty in Pink just to see if I can - and yes, I can. I honestly would credit so much of my growing up to the amazing John Hughes and I often wonder how teenagers can come of age with out him. My answer would be that they don't. Not very well anyway. Society these days is like a crap poison that tastes like shit and doesn't kill you quickly enough for anyone to realise that's the poison.
Movies are terrible and not even in a kitsch way. Peace and love is for hippies and hipsters. Supre dominates the fashion industry. Kids only listen to decent music when it's shoved into their faces in a typical hipster manner.
Of course it would be pretentious of myself to think I'm the only person my age with such interests. Of course I have friends (the cooler ones anyway :P) who find such movies and music and fashion tolerable and even enjoyable! When I find a John Hughes fan I can't help but hug them.
Where am I really going with this?
I wish I could say back in my day, things were better. Unfortunately my day is much the same as your day. I can't bring myself to enjoy it because it's just not the same. I want to be Molly Ringwald. I want to be a character in a John Hughes film. I want the same records as Ira Newborn. I want more than I can bare.
I want to like these things in the time it was all happening - in a time where it was all appreciated for what it was and not some hipster-thing.
I don't want to be an eighties kid for the hyped up shit. The glorified retro trash. I want a bit better than that. And what do I have to say about that?
Where's my umbrella? Gonna shoot that static down the drain. Gonna put that static out of my brain. Gonna put up my antennae. FREE!
Ah, the B-52's. Still quite possibly one of the best bands of all time for many reasons. That lyric was from their brilliant song "Channel Z" (find it here) which provides me with a general stimulus for this here blog entry. Yes this one, the one you are reading now!
Basically I've always been one of those little whiny kids who desperately wishes they lived in the pop cultural epicentre of another decade or time. I guess I think more about living in the 60's-70's-80's rather than a medieval period...I still think about that too but for the purpose of this entry (yes this one!) let's stick with the fact I wish I was a kid in the 60's, teenager in the 70's and young adult in the 80s. Or even a teenager in the 80's and a kid in the 70's...either would be good.
Many reasons why I wish this...I guess I feel as though I would fit in better. My tastes in clothing and musically sometimes looked harshly upon and constantly labelled "weird" or worse "crap". That is of course until the recyclable nature of all things retro thrusts a random interest into the laps of hipsters. Like a song that a lot of kids would mostly disregard suddenly gets played in a sewper kewl indie movie of sorts and suddenly they've "always loved it. Duh". Even when those things are cool again - I'm still not cool for liking them to begin with.
I guess it's just how I was brought up. My mother raised me with records and cassettes because I think she herself was stuck in a bit of a time warp. So The Smiths, New Order/Joy Division, Echo & The Bunnymen and The Cure all came completely naturally to me when I was five and realised there was more to music than the sailor who went to sea sea sea. I've always loved them (always) so you could possibly imagine how much it shits me that a lot of people know Joy Division because of a dumbass "Wombats" song and try to say they've always loved them, duh.
I also grew up, as all children should, watching those ever so important John Hughes films. I have absolutely no shame in admitting I love every single one of his better films (and by this I omit the Beethoven series) and oftentimes mouth every line of the Breakfast Club/Sixteen Candles/Weird Science/Ferris Bueller's Day Off/Pretty in Pink just to see if I can - and yes, I can. I honestly would credit so much of my growing up to the amazing John Hughes and I often wonder how teenagers can come of age with out him. My answer would be that they don't. Not very well anyway. Society these days is like a crap poison that tastes like shit and doesn't kill you quickly enough for anyone to realise that's the poison.
Movies are terrible and not even in a kitsch way. Peace and love is for hippies and hipsters. Supre dominates the fashion industry. Kids only listen to decent music when it's shoved into their faces in a typical hipster manner.
Of course it would be pretentious of myself to think I'm the only person my age with such interests. Of course I have friends (the cooler ones anyway :P) who find such movies and music and fashion tolerable and even enjoyable! When I find a John Hughes fan I can't help but hug them.
Where am I really going with this?
I wish I could say back in my day, things were better. Unfortunately my day is much the same as your day. I can't bring myself to enjoy it because it's just not the same. I want to be Molly Ringwald. I want to be a character in a John Hughes film. I want the same records as Ira Newborn. I want more than I can bare.
I want to like these things in the time it was all happening - in a time where it was all appreciated for what it was and not some hipster-thing.
I don't want to be an eighties kid for the hyped up shit. The glorified retro trash. I want a bit better than that. And what do I have to say about that?
Where's my umbrella? Gonna shoot that static down the drain. Gonna put that static out of my brain. Gonna put up my antennae. FREE!
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Can you imagine when this race is run?
From the moment I heard "Forever Young" (back in the day when I'd don a hot pink singlet from Supre that had "I HEART THE OC crudely printed on it by over-worked Chinese sweatshop children) I knew I absolutely loved it.
The line I've placed as the title is completely worthy as it is without a doubt, possibly the greatest line I've ever heard in a song. Never since have I heard a sentence so meaningful to me. Tonight I am trying to imagine when my race is run. At the moment I feel as though my race is high school. Once this race in run I guess I'll move on to the whole "life" thing which will be undoubtedly a far longer race.
But I simply cannot imagine when this race is run because for the last five years of my life have felt like an eternity. I guess I have become so comfortable with the mundane routine of my educational institution that try as I may, I just cannot see the wide world over the fence. The feeling is a little like being a small child who can't see over a shop counter at McDonald's. I desperately want to see what's going on up there, yet it's always out of reach.
I suppose it's because of the attitude my mother has positioned herself to apply to my education that although the real-world seems desperately out of reach, I have never allowed myself to completely lose sight of it. The times where I almost have were the times where I made the worst mistakes of my high school life (*cough* Senior subject selection *cough*) and the times where my mindset was a solid as a rock where the times where I found it just that much easier to make it out alive.
Basically the attitude I have is that high school doesn't actually prepare ME for anything I want to do. What if my life goal was to do amazingly well so I could be handed awards and medals to show my parents to gain their approval and go to university straight away to become a doctor because that's what smart people do* and I'll totally be super-rich if I do and I can get married and have smart children who will carry on my legacy until I flat line (note: I am aware that flat lining is a common misconception that the patient has just died)? Well I probably wouldn't know it, but I'm sure my whole life would be a flat line. I guess I'd gas my head in the oven in the end. What I am trying to say if that for such people, high school prepares them for that and probably means a lot to them. For me, preparation for life occurred over a period of nine months back in 1993 - when I was in my mother's womb. That's the only prep you need, the rest is up to you.
I think I am more of a suffer in silence sort of person. I hate school as much as the next suicidal, angst-ridden teen but I don't parade around making sure everyone knows my business and achievements. I also am not one to look down my nose at those who's achievements aren't printed certificates or in smiling pictures of them shaking hands of guest speakers who you would like to shoot. I believe school is a narrow tunnel and everyone has become especially judgmental of anyone who doesn't fit through it.
I don't fit. I wasn't built for high school. I don't have the motivation to waste time memorising crap that has about as much meaning to me as the origin of the dirt on my shoes. To me any waste of effort isn't part of my life. Teachers dislike me, wannabe-scholars give me insincere acknowledgements and I sit around in a tie pretending I care. I don't.
All this being said there are people I will miss, people I will still love, things I will remember and things I will regret. There are three people that make it a lot easier for me too and for that I'm thankful.
That's the race and I think I know why it has taken so long. It's a race I never cared about winning. Only finishing. I knew that running fast wouldn't make the race any quicker, it would just exhaust me and possibly distract me. So I've been walking, crawling even. It's taken a really long time and in school terms I'm miles behind the runners. In life terms I'm right beside them.
*Only because Australian doctors are pretentious assholes who want to be paid more money than they deserve and keep their jobs decided to complicate the shit out of becoming a doctor so it would be incredibly hard for no reason - is why becoming a doctor is what misguided smart people with pressuring parents and no passion for life do. I'm sure some people actually want to be doctors but the amount of high school kids who aspire to it is infinitely false. Until they fix this I guess we just have to have people waiting in hospitals for foreign doctors to have their visas signed because we don't have enough doctors.
The line I've placed as the title is completely worthy as it is without a doubt, possibly the greatest line I've ever heard in a song. Never since have I heard a sentence so meaningful to me. Tonight I am trying to imagine when my race is run. At the moment I feel as though my race is high school. Once this race in run I guess I'll move on to the whole "life" thing which will be undoubtedly a far longer race.
But I simply cannot imagine when this race is run because for the last five years of my life have felt like an eternity. I guess I have become so comfortable with the mundane routine of my educational institution that try as I may, I just cannot see the wide world over the fence. The feeling is a little like being a small child who can't see over a shop counter at McDonald's. I desperately want to see what's going on up there, yet it's always out of reach.
I suppose it's because of the attitude my mother has positioned herself to apply to my education that although the real-world seems desperately out of reach, I have never allowed myself to completely lose sight of it. The times where I almost have were the times where I made the worst mistakes of my high school life (*cough* Senior subject selection *cough*) and the times where my mindset was a solid as a rock where the times where I found it just that much easier to make it out alive.
Basically the attitude I have is that high school doesn't actually prepare ME for anything I want to do. What if my life goal was to do amazingly well so I could be handed awards and medals to show my parents to gain their approval and go to university straight away to become a doctor because that's what smart people do* and I'll totally be super-rich if I do and I can get married and have smart children who will carry on my legacy until I flat line (note: I am aware that flat lining is a common misconception that the patient has just died)? Well I probably wouldn't know it, but I'm sure my whole life would be a flat line. I guess I'd gas my head in the oven in the end. What I am trying to say if that for such people, high school prepares them for that and probably means a lot to them. For me, preparation for life occurred over a period of nine months back in 1993 - when I was in my mother's womb. That's the only prep you need, the rest is up to you.
I think I am more of a suffer in silence sort of person. I hate school as much as the next suicidal, angst-ridden teen but I don't parade around making sure everyone knows my business and achievements. I also am not one to look down my nose at those who's achievements aren't printed certificates or in smiling pictures of them shaking hands of guest speakers who you would like to shoot. I believe school is a narrow tunnel and everyone has become especially judgmental of anyone who doesn't fit through it.
I don't fit. I wasn't built for high school. I don't have the motivation to waste time memorising crap that has about as much meaning to me as the origin of the dirt on my shoes. To me any waste of effort isn't part of my life. Teachers dislike me, wannabe-scholars give me insincere acknowledgements and I sit around in a tie pretending I care. I don't.
All this being said there are people I will miss, people I will still love, things I will remember and things I will regret. There are three people that make it a lot easier for me too and for that I'm thankful.
That's the race and I think I know why it has taken so long. It's a race I never cared about winning. Only finishing. I knew that running fast wouldn't make the race any quicker, it would just exhaust me and possibly distract me. So I've been walking, crawling even. It's taken a really long time and in school terms I'm miles behind the runners. In life terms I'm right beside them.
*Only because Australian doctors are pretentious assholes who want to be paid more money than they deserve and keep their jobs decided to complicate the shit out of becoming a doctor so it would be incredibly hard for no reason - is why becoming a doctor is what misguided smart people with pressuring parents and no passion for life do. I'm sure some people actually want to be doctors but the amount of high school kids who aspire to it is infinitely false. Until they fix this I guess we just have to have people waiting in hospitals for foreign doctors to have their visas signed because we don't have enough doctors.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Confusion in her eyes, that says it all
She's lost control again, she's lost control.
That of course, is from a fantastic Joy Division song. I picked it because lately I feel a little annoyed and scared that I don't think I have control over myself anymore.
Rewind only 3 years: I'm fourteen and on a healthkick, doing pilates, kickboxing and running whilst eating very little and mostly salads and carrot sticks. I had incredible flexibility and a healthy weight with very few "lumps and bumps" as they say. I never cracked a single joint in my body, I never had muscle aches, I had and active lifestyle from walking everywhere.
Back to 2010: I'm almost 17, unhealthy, lazy and gross. My weight is up and stays up, yet I still go running everyday and try to fit in a workout whenever possible. I live in Annandale where you can't really walk to anything worthwile, and not many of my friends live around. I can't stop eating instant noodles, I sit in my bed on my fat ass doing shit all. I have no flexibility, I get muscle spasms and shakes, and constant aches in my joints which I tend to crack a lot, because it simply provides me with relief.
It isn't just my body however, it's also my brain. I can't process information very well anymore and seriously my grades have suffered. As in, gone from VHA's all round to hoping I passed chemistry and getting HA's for everything else.
I read once that we our bodies are at our command, we are not at their mercy. I don't feel like that recently so I guess it's time for a massive health kick. Unfortunetly, Nanna loves making fatty foods and always has a steady supply of cuppa soups and noodles so it IS HARD.
My point today is that its harder than normal. I don't feel very in control of my body and the effects of that are simply disgusting. I guess I plan to see a doctor but I wish I didn't have this awful feeling that I am not in control. I'm a control freak. If I don't have control over myself I have no hope.
Does anyone ever feel like 20 years older than they really are? I don't know I probably shouldn't post when I'm feeling depressed because this is the result :S
Well I'm off to do some pilates, practice controlling my core muscles.
PS Decided I won't post every day, as I'm in a bit of a slump now and don't feel inspired.
PPS Sorry about how boring this post is.
PPS Sorry about how boring this post is.
PPPS I want to crack my neck and back so bad!
Night!
That's me ^^
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Hungry Like the Wolf
I've always had a lot of respect for Native Americans.
There's always been something about that particular culture and heritage that has deeply fascinated me. How can one not be instantly mystified by the image of a chief wearing his headdress? The legends, the spirits, the wolves, the imagery - it's all part of such a rich and beautiful culture.
One of my favourite parts of this culture is the traditions they carry. The ceremonies and rituals, story telling and dancing to the beat of the tribal drum. It's an Abenaki legend that the drum first came to the Creator and asked to sing with the people as the heartbeat of Mother Nature. That's another wonderful thing, their deeply spiritual connection to their land. Another Abenaki legend was The Creator that fell asleep whilst pondering what he should create and dreamt of the Earth that came into being while he slept. I am not usually a "religious" person per say, at least not in the sense of "creation". I know that these are more than stories some how, some way. I have a vague memory as a child of seeing a short animation on SBS about the Great Turtle Tolba. I remember seeing him slowly crawling and the space around him rotating to show the world on his back. I remember believing this before I was told about Christian Creation. Though they are many myths and legends concerning the Great Turtle, every single one of them is more inspired than There was God. He created the world in a certain order on certain days. Then he rested.
I don't really know where I am going with this yet.
I guess I will make it about dreams. From what I have read, dreams are an integral part of their culture especially seeing as the Abenaki legend suggests that is how the Earth was created. Dream-catchers were made to protect dreams. Maybe we should all protect our dreams in a similar way. Guard ourselves from the criticisms of others and always remember what our dreams are. Dream them as lucidly as you possibly can to make them real. However you must protect them from negative forces, but you should always allow the winds of change to pass them because your dreams are not static. They are fluid entities to observe and behold. I guess we aren't always safe when we sleep but we are cleansed from reality when we dream, and that has to be a good thing some how.
I think I might go do some dreaming my self, its getting a little late and Freddy Kruger might stomp all the Abenaki magic out of my mind and start freaking me out. Just incase, here's a poem about dreamcatchers (that I didn't write) to calm me down.
An ancient Chippewa tradition
The dream net has been made
For many generations
Where the the spirit dreams have played
Hung above the cradle board
or in the lodge up high
The dream net catches bad dreams
While good dreams slip on by
Bad dreams become entangled
Among the sinew thread
Good dreams slip through the centre hole
While you dream upon your bed
This is an ancient legend
Since dreams will never cease
Hang this dream net above your bed
Dream on, and be at peace
Good night! Love Lucy.
There's always been something about that particular culture and heritage that has deeply fascinated me. How can one not be instantly mystified by the image of a chief wearing his headdress? The legends, the spirits, the wolves, the imagery - it's all part of such a rich and beautiful culture.
One of my favourite parts of this culture is the traditions they carry. The ceremonies and rituals, story telling and dancing to the beat of the tribal drum. It's an Abenaki legend that the drum first came to the Creator and asked to sing with the people as the heartbeat of Mother Nature. That's another wonderful thing, their deeply spiritual connection to their land. Another Abenaki legend was The Creator that fell asleep whilst pondering what he should create and dreamt of the Earth that came into being while he slept. I am not usually a "religious" person per say, at least not in the sense of "creation". I know that these are more than stories some how, some way. I have a vague memory as a child of seeing a short animation on SBS about the Great Turtle Tolba. I remember seeing him slowly crawling and the space around him rotating to show the world on his back. I remember believing this before I was told about Christian Creation. Though they are many myths and legends concerning the Great Turtle, every single one of them is more inspired than There was God. He created the world in a certain order on certain days. Then he rested.
I don't really know where I am going with this yet.
I guess I will make it about dreams. From what I have read, dreams are an integral part of their culture especially seeing as the Abenaki legend suggests that is how the Earth was created. Dream-catchers were made to protect dreams. Maybe we should all protect our dreams in a similar way. Guard ourselves from the criticisms of others and always remember what our dreams are. Dream them as lucidly as you possibly can to make them real. However you must protect them from negative forces, but you should always allow the winds of change to pass them because your dreams are not static. They are fluid entities to observe and behold. I guess we aren't always safe when we sleep but we are cleansed from reality when we dream, and that has to be a good thing some how.
I think I might go do some dreaming my self, its getting a little late and Freddy Kruger might stomp all the Abenaki magic out of my mind and start freaking me out. Just incase, here's a poem about dreamcatchers (that I didn't write) to calm me down.
An ancient Chippewa tradition
The dream net has been made
For many generations
Where the the spirit dreams have played
Hung above the cradle board
or in the lodge up high
The dream net catches bad dreams
While good dreams slip on by
Bad dreams become entangled
Among the sinew thread
Good dreams slip through the centre hole
While you dream upon your bed
This is an ancient legend
Since dreams will never cease
Hang this dream net above your bed
Dream on, and be at peace
Good night! Love Lucy.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Cinematic Mediocrity
When I was a child, my Gran' would send me about $10 to "go to the pictures".
These days it costs you about $18+ and a whole lot of inconvenience. You see I did not post last night because when I got home I was unbelievably tired and simply couldn't be bothered. I did a lot of other things however.
So I went to school and did a lot of passive-aggressive ranting to pass off as answers to my maths exam (wonder if that will go down well - probably not if a certain teacher I've only encountered a few times marks my test, because I don't understand a word she says and I think it goes both ways; the humour would be lost on her). Then after the exam I walked out of the cold and boring gym into the radiant sunshine that tells my head to let the part of my brain that deals with maths know that her days are securely numbered. Too many people care too much about maths exams, but see I couldn't actually care less. I would be desperately disappointed if I looked back on my skool dayz and realised I wasted much of my spare time studying for a terminally ill subject, known as "Maths B".
A bit of time passes (including choir practice which I normally enjoy but today found it rather PAINFUL) and Hagen was driving us to Cannon Park (it's not really a park but they do have a big cannon for decoration) whilst playing Dawson's Creek soundtrack - later followed by a second car trip with a whole lot of Scissor Sisters. This car trip was made necessary because we all wanted to see Nightmare On Elm Street - a movie you absolutely must be over 15 to see and the cow at the ticket box demanded to see IDs because we all look 14 you know? Hagey babe has an action sampler these days, very cool for a lo-fi toy camera (which all cool people have, of course).
IDs were collected and a race began to get back to CJ's for dinner because the little disk that beeps and vibes when your table is ready had been going for about 20 minutes. The waitstaff weren't happy but let us have a table anyway. I had veggie cactus and flag dip and gorged myself like a little fatty who loves Mexican food.
Anyway - here's the fun part. The movie! Now I rarely ever go to Reading cinema and last night definitely refreshed my memory as to why.
First there was the bitchy incident involving the IDs. Secondly, it's just plain out of the way (by Townsville standards anyway, we all agree). Thirdly, as I go to pay for my ticket (which cost more than any other cinema in Townsville) I am told that they only take credit. Yes, they don't actually have EFTPOS - a useful device that was first utilised in the 80's. Reading cinema have had over 30 years to get one!! SO what do they tell me I should do instead? They say "oh there's an ATM over there". So as my mind instantly wondered why they installed and paid for an ATM to facilitate people that require eftpos, instead of installing eftpos - I simply asked if the ATM charged a fee. Yes it did, it charged $2 - which they don't give back to you. So not only are you inconvenienced by their technological shortcomings but they expect you to pay for it! It was most unfortunate that I had no cash and only $20 in the bank, meaning I would be unable to take money out because you can only get out multiples of 50 or 20 and the f*cking ATM would take $2. Others may find this petty but I find it completely unacceptable. I had to borrow money off people. I had to look like a scab because of Reading. Well you know what Reading? I might write a really angry letter to the editor about you, just because I hate you.
The movie was alright, I enjoyed it. Lots of popcorn and constant anticipating scenes saturated in sickly suspense which became tiring very quickly because if you have an IQ over 20, you know something is going to happen, and if you have an IQ over 50 you know that's why they do it and get very annoyed with it very quickly.
Also Charlotte (as a cat herself) is offended by cinematic stereotyping of cats as evil assholes, and dogs as innocent and pure. Pretty sure more people are killed by vicious dogs than vicious cats. I would love to see an evil kitten be an asshole to a pit bull and live to tell the tail, I mean tale. For that matter, pit bulls are illegal for their ferociousness, are any cats illegal?
I blow my nose at you, Reading Cinema! Eat my shorts!
Love (or hate, for you Reading) Lucy
These days it costs you about $18+ and a whole lot of inconvenience. You see I did not post last night because when I got home I was unbelievably tired and simply couldn't be bothered. I did a lot of other things however.
So I went to school and did a lot of passive-aggressive ranting to pass off as answers to my maths exam (wonder if that will go down well - probably not if a certain teacher I've only encountered a few times marks my test, because I don't understand a word she says and I think it goes both ways; the humour would be lost on her). Then after the exam I walked out of the cold and boring gym into the radiant sunshine that tells my head to let the part of my brain that deals with maths know that her days are securely numbered. Too many people care too much about maths exams, but see I couldn't actually care less. I would be desperately disappointed if I looked back on my skool dayz and realised I wasted much of my spare time studying for a terminally ill subject, known as "Maths B".
A bit of time passes (including choir practice which I normally enjoy but today found it rather PAINFUL) and Hagen was driving us to Cannon Park (it's not really a park but they do have a big cannon for decoration) whilst playing Dawson's Creek soundtrack - later followed by a second car trip with a whole lot of Scissor Sisters. This car trip was made necessary because we all wanted to see Nightmare On Elm Street - a movie you absolutely must be over 15 to see and the cow at the ticket box demanded to see IDs because we all look 14 you know? Hagey babe has an action sampler these days, very cool for a lo-fi toy camera (which all cool people have, of course).
IDs were collected and a race began to get back to CJ's for dinner because the little disk that beeps and vibes when your table is ready had been going for about 20 minutes. The waitstaff weren't happy but let us have a table anyway. I had veggie cactus and flag dip and gorged myself like a little fatty who loves Mexican food.
Anyway - here's the fun part. The movie! Now I rarely ever go to Reading cinema and last night definitely refreshed my memory as to why.
First there was the bitchy incident involving the IDs. Secondly, it's just plain out of the way (by Townsville standards anyway, we all agree). Thirdly, as I go to pay for my ticket (which cost more than any other cinema in Townsville) I am told that they only take credit. Yes, they don't actually have EFTPOS - a useful device that was first utilised in the 80's. Reading cinema have had over 30 years to get one!! SO what do they tell me I should do instead? They say "oh there's an ATM over there". So as my mind instantly wondered why they installed and paid for an ATM to facilitate people that require eftpos, instead of installing eftpos - I simply asked if the ATM charged a fee. Yes it did, it charged $2 - which they don't give back to you. So not only are you inconvenienced by their technological shortcomings but they expect you to pay for it! It was most unfortunate that I had no cash and only $20 in the bank, meaning I would be unable to take money out because you can only get out multiples of 50 or 20 and the f*cking ATM would take $2. Others may find this petty but I find it completely unacceptable. I had to borrow money off people. I had to look like a scab because of Reading. Well you know what Reading? I might write a really angry letter to the editor about you, just because I hate you.
The movie was alright, I enjoyed it. Lots of popcorn and constant anticipating scenes saturated in sickly suspense which became tiring very quickly because if you have an IQ over 20, you know something is going to happen, and if you have an IQ over 50 you know that's why they do it and get very annoyed with it very quickly.
Also Charlotte (as a cat herself) is offended by cinematic stereotyping of cats as evil assholes, and dogs as innocent and pure. Pretty sure more people are killed by vicious dogs than vicious cats. I would love to see an evil kitten be an asshole to a pit bull and live to tell the tail, I mean tale. For that matter, pit bulls are illegal for their ferociousness, are any cats illegal?
I blow my nose at you, Reading Cinema! Eat my shorts!
Love (or hate, for you Reading) Lucy
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Okay, Pens down
Those words can either bring apprehension, self doubt, relief or a signal to write like Speedy Gonzales on amphetamines.
I am, of course, referring to the signal to stop writing because the time you were allocated for an exam, is up. Gone. Kapeche.
I was reading last month's issue of Frankie last night, and stumbled upon the Five Creatives on the Meaning of Life article. When Angus Sampson was asked what motto sums up [his] approach to life, he replied by saying: "Time flies when you waste it"
This is quite the antidote to time flies when you are having fun, otherwise it implies that wasting time is fun. Of course wasting time can be fun, it can also be mind-numbingly boring. I discovered this today in my Maths B KPS (that's knowledge and problem solving for the all the readers [that I probably don't have, but this information will be useful when I am world famous and people around the world go back to look at my old blog entries *cough*] that aren't aware of how Maths B exams are title).
Suffice to say I am terrible at maths. I hate it. I have a personal belief that negative numbers do not actually exist and seeing as something as mundane as negatives are not real you can hardly imagine fancy things like integrals being real. This is what the test was on. Integrals and something to do with "maximising" and "minimising" and "stationary points". None of which actually exist. Needless to say after I finished my D level questions (questions you must get mostly correct in order to fail) and my C level questions (questions you must answer as well as D level to pass) I started on my B level questions. By started on, I mean stared at blankly for about 30 minutes. After staring at them I glanced at the A level questions but it was awkward because they were better than me and were looking at me with condescending expressions. Any who the point of this paragraph is that I had about 20 minutes left of the exam when I had done and checked all I could.
I wasted this time but my goodness, the time DID NOT fly, nor was it fun. Unless you find staring at a massive GIF image of a clock projected onto a stage in the middle of a cold and sterile gym filled with folding desks and frustrated students fun then being in the aforementioned situation is not desirable. So really time flies when you have fun, but does not fly when you waste it. I drew a picture of a guy a few rows in front of me in that 20 minutes whilst maths teachers looked at me with disgust/jealousy of my fully sic drawing skills. I think it was the latter. I was relieved when they said "Pens down".
Exhausted from doing nothing for twenty minutes I was glad it was lunch. I had a cheddar mite scroll and me, Courtney and Charlotte walked to Charlotte's home. Charlotte got an iPhone yesterday (not an iphone but an iPhone. Her iPhone corrects the lowercase 'p' - did I mention it was an iPhone?). Also Georgia wrote me a letter which was lovely. Here's to Georgia!
So after having a relaxing time at Miss Charlotte's residence it was time for round 2 - QCS practise SRI. Time chose a different way to "fly" for this exam - I think it was flying Jetstar or something because the flight time was relatively quick but my goodness it was cramped. In an hour I had realised I wasn't even halfway through. This hour went very quickly - time flew but I wasn't having fun nor wasting it!! At "okay you have 10 minutes" i still had two units left with three questions each. I looked at one unit - maths uh blergh SKIP and moved onto the last unit and managed to do two questions. I didn't finish. There wasn't enough time!! Time flew! When they said "pens down" I started writing like Speedy Gonzales on crack.
Maybe time always flies. I suppose it just takes whatever flight is available. Sometimes you enjoy the flight and it goes quickly, or perhaps you sit there doing nothing and wish that time would go a bit faster. Sometimes you'll get a window seat or be sitting with nice people who don't suffer from motion sickness. Your flight could be delayed or maybe even crash. Hell, maybe some day you'll fly first class. How has your time been flying? Leave a comment!
For now, I might just fly out the window.
Love Lucy
This is the picture I drew. Yes I took it with a digital camera, no I do not have a scanner.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
She's a riot
I am not really referring to crap teen movies or really bad Australian game shows, no I am talking about that 90's grunge.
There really isn't anything like it today. There is however, a lot of people that try to imitate it. Like a corpse though, when the 90's come back to life it's a horror. You don't get that minimalist era, you get a flesh-eating mutant that simply doesn't belong in contemporary society.
What was so good about the 90's though? Well like I said, they were grungy baby. You don't get any third-wave feminist RIOT GRRRLS these days. You don't get a sense of individual uniformity either (like in the Calvin Klein ONE advertising campaign [that's a link btw guys, any coloured text in my blog is a link except for titles, no one noticed in Mariachi, Baby!]).
The best parts of the youth-society got chucked out the window in 2000. The cassette culture went out the window. So did zines. We should bring back cassette culture. By a cheap cassette recorder and crapily record your own music and hand them out to all your friends to play. I love cassettes and I really wish cassette culture was still around. It seems redundant now that you can record your own music on your computer and upload to youtube or myspace or whatever. Wouldn't you rather that crackling crackling warmth of a cassette? Something to hold in your hand, and keep forever? I know I would.
As for zines, they've been replaced by...can you guess it? Blogs. Hate to say it but I am part of a blog society and though I didn't cause it, I am definitely a part of the decline in zine culture. Maybe I should start making zines as well as blogs. If you think I should start making zines then please comment and say so.
I guess I am actually opposed to the rise of technology. I wish I lived in a world were people didn't download mp3s and burn CDs. I wish I lived in a world were people recorded cassettes for each other and shared them around. I wish I could buy a brand new record for less than $40 or so. I wish I didn't have this stupid computer, when I could instead have a sweet old typewriter to make zines with. Yeah. I wish it didn't cost me $50 per roll to have Diana's 120mm film developed. I guess I just wish it was the 90's.
About my day? Exams, what can I say? Chem = fail. Accounting = pass of some sort. Other than that I hung out with Courtney in the 2 hours I had between exams and I realised that if I fail at school and end up on the dole, it's all the people that studied their asses off to pass who will be paying their taxes for people like me. Jack hearts socialism.
Well I better go an put on my sweatshirt and sling my backpack over my shoulder whilst listening to some Nirvana or Bikini Kill on my cassette Walkman. That's another thing, backpacks used to be cool and satchels were lame. Now satchels are cool and backpacks are lame. Society you dizzy me, I think I might go back to a simpler time, to the year I was born at the age I am now. Rocking in the '93.
Chilllllout 90's kids!
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Mariachi baby!
Today was, in fact, my very first study day. Did I study much?
The answer to that would have to be no. It was too nice a day for that. I intend to spend all night studying however - into the early hours of the morning when I have to actually get to school on time and get my double shot of examinations to immunise me against becoming a homeless man. I mean person.
Anyway, what did I do today however? Good question. I was actually feeling incredibly cultural, I was feeling Mexican. I downloaded some Mariachi music and read about Mexican festivals and celebrations and foods and beverages. It was splendidos. It was a sunny afternoon and the sunlight hung low in my room, filtered through my window by a canvas blind. A light such as that would normally depress me (in my sense of the word, I mean depressed not morbid) but today I imagined it was just another sunny day down Mexico way. Visions of crowded streets and masses of people travelling along dirt roads, entering old buildings, drinking Coronas...It was rather lovely. I searched online to try and find a hand-loomed Mexican poncho but they cost a lot, which I did not expect. I pretended my duvet was one, and I drifted off into a mid-afternoon nap which is another Mexican tradition. They call it siesta.
I do love cultures, and often find myself immersing myself in them. Okay I am going to have to interrupt myself right here. My unbelievably discourteous neighbours are playing disgusting HIPHOPBEATTTZZZZZ arrogantly loud, and the constant thud of whatever synthesised bass they use in such music IS DRIVING ME INSANE! To the point where I have to write in capital letters.
That is one culture I do not enjoy. The hip hop/rap/"rnb" crap people listen to these days. I despise the use of the acronym "rnb" to describe voluptuous skanks singing slow and monotonous pop music. It is not rhythm and blues, it is crap. I don't mean to sound racist when I say this but just because they are black, does not mean they are singing the blues! To sing the blues you have to have soul. I apologise deeply if this is how they find out but people like Mariah Carey or any of these people simply do not have souls and therefore could never ever sing like people that do (like Otis, Ray Charles, Little Richard...).
Okay so now that I am sufficiently side-tracked let me get back to culture. I love nothing more than cultural festivities and was very annoyed that I missed most of my town's latest cultural exhibits. I missed some this year and I'm sure there was another. I hope I haven't missed the Greek Festival! I did go to the Italian festival however it was not as Italian as one might assume.
Oh, and I watched Eurovision about 2 weeks ago. If that isn't culture I don't know what is. The point is I love the spirit of a festival. The music and the stalls and the foods. The scents and wares of cultures far far away kept alive in our community with plastic folding tables and travelling gypsies. It is truly something to behold.
I must leave now - feed my goldfish Ziggy and study chemistry and accounting and maths whilst listening to some Mariachi and wishing I was in Tijuana smoking Marijuana dancing El Jarabe Tapatio with Antonios Banderas.
Adios!
The answer to that would have to be no. It was too nice a day for that. I intend to spend all night studying however - into the early hours of the morning when I have to actually get to school on time and get my double shot of examinations to immunise me against becoming a homeless man. I mean person.
Anyway, what did I do today however? Good question. I was actually feeling incredibly cultural, I was feeling Mexican. I downloaded some Mariachi music and read about Mexican festivals and celebrations and foods and beverages. It was splendidos. It was a sunny afternoon and the sunlight hung low in my room, filtered through my window by a canvas blind. A light such as that would normally depress me (in my sense of the word, I mean depressed not morbid) but today I imagined it was just another sunny day down Mexico way. Visions of crowded streets and masses of people travelling along dirt roads, entering old buildings, drinking Coronas...It was rather lovely. I searched online to try and find a hand-loomed Mexican poncho but they cost a lot, which I did not expect. I pretended my duvet was one, and I drifted off into a mid-afternoon nap which is another Mexican tradition. They call it siesta.
I do love cultures, and often find myself immersing myself in them. Okay I am going to have to interrupt myself right here. My unbelievably discourteous neighbours are playing disgusting HIPHOPBEATTTZZZZZ arrogantly loud, and the constant thud of whatever synthesised bass they use in such music IS DRIVING ME INSANE! To the point where I have to write in capital letters.
That is one culture I do not enjoy. The hip hop/rap/"rnb" crap people listen to these days. I despise the use of the acronym "rnb" to describe voluptuous skanks singing slow and monotonous pop music. It is not rhythm and blues, it is crap. I don't mean to sound racist when I say this but just because they are black, does not mean they are singing the blues! To sing the blues you have to have soul. I apologise deeply if this is how they find out but people like Mariah Carey or any of these people simply do not have souls and therefore could never ever sing like people that do (like Otis, Ray Charles, Little Richard...).
Okay so now that I am sufficiently side-tracked let me get back to culture. I love nothing more than cultural festivities and was very annoyed that I missed most of my town's latest cultural exhibits. I missed some this year and I'm sure there was another. I hope I haven't missed the Greek Festival! I did go to the Italian festival however it was not as Italian as one might assume.
Oh, and I watched Eurovision about 2 weeks ago. If that isn't culture I don't know what is. The point is I love the spirit of a festival. The music and the stalls and the foods. The scents and wares of cultures far far away kept alive in our community with plastic folding tables and travelling gypsies. It is truly something to behold.
I must leave now - feed my goldfish Ziggy and study chemistry and accounting and maths whilst listening to some Mariachi and wishing I was in Tijuana smoking Marijuana dancing El Jarabe Tapatio with Antonios Banderas.
Adios!
Me with Charlotte ("Sally Cinnamon") and Courtney, from the Townsville Bulletin.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Legal Eagles
Okay Monday, we'll start this hell together.
So I am actually in class at the moment - our teacher is marking assignments and I honestly have nothing better to do.
I lied, I could probably study but I am not. I don't have any more legal studies assessment however, and I am absolutely astonished that this site isn't blocked. The bell just rang. I'll post more later. I have accounting now and I have a lot to do there.
Okay so I'm at home now and wondering just how behind America actually is because it says I posted today's blog sometime yesterday when it is in fact, late Monday afternoon.
Today went alarmingly quick. You see, today was our last school day before our block exam weeks. They make it sound like you have all this extra time, when really I have eight solid days of multiple exams (each at least 2 hours!!). So I have tomorrow off, but so does everybody. I will need to study my little butt off.
School for me is more than depressing. It is depressing in a sense that even though I would have to consider myself a person of more than reasonable intelligence, my lack of interest in any of my subjects means I have the grades you might expect from a retarded strumpet. I originally had planned to do subjects I am actually interested in but then for some unknown reason though it would be best to do subjects I hated because I would get a better O.P. Whoever lead me to believe such information clearly lied.
The only subject I don't hate is English. I love English, I get A's for English. I only want to be a writer. I used to want to be a dentist and elected Chemistry because it is a prerequisite. Now I realise I just want to be a writer and that I could have done art and drama and music and french instead of chemistry, accounting, legal studies...modern history. I also would have done Maths A instead of Maths B. Who needs to learn anti-derivatives and logarithms when you could simply learn how to tie your shoes and count to 50?
My life is honestly mostly regrets. I regret every decision of high school so far but I'm trying to see past it. Into that wonderful wide world out there where I don't care if even my friends think they have superior intelligence to me because in that world, no one gives a rats ass about what O.P. you got or if you had a cum laude.
I call it the bigger picture - I just wish I was a better photographer.
Love Lucy.
So I am actually in class at the moment - our teacher is marking assignments and I honestly have nothing better to do.
I lied, I could probably study but I am not. I don't have any more legal studies assessment however, and I am absolutely astonished that this site isn't blocked. The bell just rang. I'll post more later. I have accounting now and I have a lot to do there.
Okay so I'm at home now and wondering just how behind America actually is because it says I posted today's blog sometime yesterday when it is in fact, late Monday afternoon.
Today went alarmingly quick. You see, today was our last school day before our block exam weeks. They make it sound like you have all this extra time, when really I have eight solid days of multiple exams (each at least 2 hours!!). So I have tomorrow off, but so does everybody. I will need to study my little butt off.
School for me is more than depressing. It is depressing in a sense that even though I would have to consider myself a person of more than reasonable intelligence, my lack of interest in any of my subjects means I have the grades you might expect from a retarded strumpet. I originally had planned to do subjects I am actually interested in but then for some unknown reason though it would be best to do subjects I hated because I would get a better O.P. Whoever lead me to believe such information clearly lied.
The only subject I don't hate is English. I love English, I get A's for English. I only want to be a writer. I used to want to be a dentist and elected Chemistry because it is a prerequisite. Now I realise I just want to be a writer and that I could have done art and drama and music and french instead of chemistry, accounting, legal studies...modern history. I also would have done Maths A instead of Maths B. Who needs to learn anti-derivatives and logarithms when you could simply learn how to tie your shoes and count to 50?
My life is honestly mostly regrets. I regret every decision of high school so far but I'm trying to see past it. Into that wonderful wide world out there where I don't care if even my friends think they have superior intelligence to me because in that world, no one gives a rats ass about what O.P. you got or if you had a cum laude.
I call it the bigger picture - I just wish I was a better photographer.
Love Lucy.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Hold on my heart
It was a normal Sunday - yet not a day to worship the sun.
The fifth day of winter, and I needed my coat. It's tropical here, and cold is scarce and usually early in the day.
I had work this morning, in a two-storey shop selling mid priced clothing, accessories and lingerie - in the middle of a dilapidated outdoor shopping mall currently undergoing renovations on one end. The end closest to the shop in which I work is mostly untouched, basically filled with derelict empty shop fronts that were prospering only 10 years ago.
On Sundays however, merchants and creative types set up their stalls along the uneven brick strip and offer lead lite wind chimes and savoury nuts or tie-died skirts from Bali. This is why I love working on Sundays. The markets are one of the most beautiful things in my town.Personally, I don't really like the shop I work in. It is a dull chain store with too much room and not enough love. I sold about $400 worth of goods with an average sale of about $38.
I spent a fair amount of time looking out into the mall however. A duet of young men leaving their mid-twenties playing a set of mellow, Sunday-morning songs with a guitar each. One had a strap of bells tied to his right ankle, and banged a single bass drum with his left. After a while he played an enormous double bass, and a harmonica. I never was able to learn an instrument to the point where I was ever any good. I always pulled out, couldn't be bothered practising. I only wished I could play and instrument, I never actually enjoyed playing any of them. I played flute, piano, guitar - even recorder at school. Not a single one took my fancy. I wish I could find one because I love music, and this morning I found myself desperately envying those men.
Music for me is power. I could starve if I still had music - maybe for about 40 hours for World Vision (which I did, in fact, just last year). I have new music lately. Might I recommend Tame Impala's debut album "Innerspeaker". The whole album is bliss, their website describes it as "an explosive, cosmic wonderland of ecstatic harmony and perfectly accessible journeys into innerspace". Beautiful really, I love almost every track. I'm also "digging" (for all you cool cats out there, down with the lingo) the single "Telepathic Head" by Machine Translations. Oh very good indeed. I need to make a new CD to play at work to complete my Sundays.
So in the back of my mind went troubles and exams and loneliness. Time slows to half, crowds weave in and out through stalls - buying fruits, organic candles or $30 Chanel counterfeits. I absorb the Sunday atmosphere, on my break I listen to Eastern European music and wish I was in a market elsewhere. Our markets are small, they'll do for now. One day I will have a Sunday off, but I'll come down anyway and maybe buy "Dope Sope" or some Parmesan cashews. Hopefully when that day comes I'll have arms nice toned enough for a singlet, and abs fit enough to wear a long, hemp skirt around my hips. Then my Indian patchwork bag I bought from a stall at the Australian Italian Festival (ironically) slung across my body and a little Tame Impala in my ears and I might be in heaven.
A first public blog. All the best to you and your Sunday for reading.
Love Lucy
This is the markets. I work in the shop behind "Discount Jeans", the one with the grey sign that says "Barkins"
My friend tells me I look just like the woman buying fruit. Fancy that?
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