I Was The Walrus.

listening to: mother - john lennon.
reading: nothing.
watching: nothing.
eating: air.
drinking: pear nectar.

i am snuggling into the sound of silence. filling my air with the breath from your lungs, the stale left-behinds of your soul in this tiny, compact room, and i wish your quirky laugh was here to fill this space.
despite the emptiness and cold air of my house after you left, i'm almost getting used to the dysfunctional way in which it's working, my room full of musical tunes, some chink, so i go into other rooms to make them work.

you said you're impressed with the way i handle things, the way that i throw maturity around as if it's an inflatable balloon, but i just desperately want to get it out of my hands so the static doesn't mess up my hair.
but your noogies do that anyway, you silly man in the dark purple suit.
if i were to reveal anything, it would be that i am not mature, i am not brave, and all i can do is sit here, with the tears falling onto my jean shorts, and the pear nectar dribbling down my chin, thinking how much tougher it could be, and how pathetic it is, that i can't handle what i have now.

but you make me happy, none the less. i feel your warmth, and i can hear your heartbeat, the only one i can listen to, it's deep, soft thud, not a tinny whomping like a guinea pig. and that's what is the best. i love you the way i love sparkly toes, the way i love glistening sweatdrops on noses, the way i love banana crisps, the way i love the smell before it rains, the way i love you with all the pieces that got thrown away by some other unimportant being.

you and her combined make up my confidence, my happiness and my soul.
you balance me out with your differences, you are the other two thirds of me, you make me who i am.
and the rest are just mortar that fill in the cracks of us three bricks.

Watching Me Burn.

listening to: four in the morning - gwen stefani.
reading: the true history of kelly and the gang.
watching: nothing.
eating: air.
drinking: fanta spider.

it was all so sudden. i just couldn't fathom it.
i was going to see your face in a week, your laugh would be right there, your smile, your tiny hands and your freckles directly beside me, linking arms and whispering, just like how i remember it.
it was already a bad day, i was already disoriented.
and suddenly it appears. the message on that social networking site. the most random occurance. the most brutal and direct confrontation that i had experienced since march this year.
there was your schoolID, looking at me with those same freckles and smile, but you were a ghost.
it was your mother. and she had come to be the bearer of bad news.
now it's united all our friends, together we stand, but we've all fallen separate.
nobody knows how to deal with it. knowing you won't be there anymore to shed light on situations.
all i can think about was the last thing you said to me. you were so right. i was so wrong.
wrong for not having seen you sooner. just one last time.
i wanted to hold you one last time, your cuddles were always the greatest.
even though you're gone now, i am positive that you will always be there in spirit.
i think of you every time i bust open a bag of rice wheelies.
you are in the palm of his hand now, babe.

i will never forget you.

Time Is Running Out.

listening to: cool - gwen stefani.
reading: nothing.
watching: michael jackson's this is it.
eating: banana paddlepop.
drinking: water.

a passing memory of you went by in a flash, the force of the fragments of image squealing their way through time and space, before they were gone; and there was absolute silence.
i used that small f-r-a-c-t-i-o-n of time to blank my mind, and think of nothing.
just white behind my retinas, swaying with my body a little, just to calm me down.

it's all over now. you aren't special. you aren't important. and you most certainly aren't a part of me. i've filled that space where your soul used to lie with candy bracelets, freshly discovered eateries, and a thriving sense of self. the two people who came after you are now first, and they have worked together to rebuild their web of love over the abyss that was the s p a c e you left.

i've delved into the cracks, and searched the dim lights, the rotting gutters where the prostitutes are slumped against walls, the rats chewing on five day old bread, the place where the people never see the sun, and only the suggestive lights of the district. and for what it's worth.

the other side WAS much greener.

an abstract painting which was supposed to resemble breasts, just a contortion of the only way i know how to describe that colour; the infamous dinosaur green. the eligible standard tone which is the world over associated with those prehistoric reptilius. searching for gifts to match each companion is assuredly my hardest task, but i find it worth it in the end, when each item screams the name of them, until my ears bleed from the pressure.

but i love you all. i miss you all. i need you all.

Dark Moves Of Love.

listening to: science fiction, double feature - rocky horror picture show OST.
reading: john - cynthia lennon.
watching: nothing.
eating: air.
drinking: peach juice.

so i sit here in the middle of my room, eyes closed, my whole world spinning, waiting for you to come and lie next to me. but that isn't going to happen. not for a long while.
i can feel fireworks exploding behind my retinas, my toes fuzzing and disintergrating, their granules falling to the floor, i can feel my lips slowly moving further and further apart until they're completely detached from my face.

i miss your gentle laugh, your warm lap, your eyes when they race around the room with obvious uncertainty. i miss getting up at ten o'clock, finding out you've already been awake for three hours, and have been eating and watching me in my slumber for most of that time. i miss the way your hair meshes with your eyelashes, i miss your smile, i miss the way you warm my soul.

i could never thank her enough. sometimes i hate her so much because she talks about how much better than me she is, and i know it's true. but sometimes, just sometimes, i want to be that beautiful skinny girl who has everything going for her. the girl that's good at everything, the girl who doesn't always speak her mind, the girl who knows when to say when. but that isn't me. and i can only dream of such a girl.

i fall back into my reality, which isn't realistic at all. my door inhales and exhales like a living creature, and the floor compresses and releases in different sections to create something similar to an optical illusion. i breathe in and the drum solo that leads into the chorus fills my sensories, until i'm a mere blur.
i can hear the screeches of the guitar in the back ground, and the demonic voice that yells "one of these days i'm going to chop you up into little pieces" and i reply with, "you already have".

and suddenly everything makes sense. it all clicks together. and i realise something that was fairly obvious before. i am home. when i hear my music, everything is laced together in a necklace of raw experience, and i feel myself give way to the pure genius.

this is reality. like grandad always said: "....i'm there."

Dear Gramps.

listening to: the messiah will come again - roy buchanan.
reading: a text from vaile.
watching: pablo the little red fox; season 1; episode 8 - bathtime.
eating: chocolate.
drinking: water.


hey there granddad,
this is my letter of confession, recognition and not-very-insightful commentary to you.

when you passed, all my dad was able to give me was your shaving brush.
he said it wouldn't come of much use to me.
that was around the time when i desperately wanted to grow a moustache.
but don't worry, i used it on my legs once for kicks.

late at night i recall you sneaking downstairs to drink the pickle juice out of the olive jar.
but finding my spindly, awkward four year old body already kneeling on the counter sipping it up with mum's "dawn of the eagle" teaspoon.
you would sit in your red leather chair, and talk to me about the isle of the dogs, where you grew up as a boy, telling me the tales of you;
the extortionist, the gambler, the drinker, the lover, the leaver, the miner, the sailor, the waiter.
and even though all of these things added up to a completely imperfect specimen...
i thought you were god.

your speckled black and white hair, your dusty old off-red boxing gloves, your sideways smile and the way you seemed to know everything i was thinking, even when i gave no hint at all.
the way everybody treated you, in retrospect, seems largely unfair. and i'm sorry to say at that particular moment in time i was too naive to do anything about it.

the day when i came home, after a brief (disheartening) encounter with the irish kind in dymocks, i saw your picture on my mantelpiece, and sat there holding you, humming your favourite wishbone ash song, and watching my toes curl up on the carpet.

you're a smoker, you're a joker and you're a midnight toker.
even when you were completely offchops, you made me smile harder than anybody else could.
i'm sorry that you aren't here anymore, and it hurts me that i didn't get to send you off with all these thoughts and that painting i did that you really liked.

you've left the biggest imprint on the smallest girl.
you may have left me, but those tiny shards of those tiny memories that we had together assemble themselves to create an unfinished masterpiece.

and that's the way i would have wanted-needed-loved-done it.

Apples Rule.

listening to: why did i ever fall in love with you? - dbsk.
reading: hyperbole and a half's blog.
watching: pablo the little red fox; season 1; episode 3 - garbage.
eating: pink lady apple.
drinking: water.




(dedicated to my lovely anon, who wanted me to write more bloggies)

so it's confirmed. i'm a huge nerd. i still watch kids shows, i do my homework in the corner where i can listen to the rain, i still believe in "an apple a day", when attractive english men talk to me i am silent and awkward, i love tinkering away on my piano more than anything, and i still laugh about body functions with my gay best friend.

i don't think we ever really appreciate the little things that make life so much better than it actually is. i can't remember the last time i s-k-i-p-p-e-d some stones by myself, or put glue on my fingers just to peel it off, or bought some cherries and made earrings with them, or sat down and drew with music, or sat out in the rain in silence just to get wet and cold and embrace the fact that there was no other noise but the sky falling. on. my. head.

people always fill the silence with noise; radios, television, friends, talking to themselves, music...

but we never really understand the peacefulness until we break through that awkward 4 second barrier.

i've learnt to appreciate what isn't there.

however there are still things that i wish were more perfect. i don't like the fact that my hair never sits the way i want it, the fact that my clothes don't sit nearly as well on me as they do on the better version of me, the fact that everytime i'm doing exercise, it always hails or rains right as i'm at the furthest point from home, i dislike the fact that there are so many objects in my room that i should just throw out, but can't bear to part with.

i dislike the fact that i feel i've lost a lot of my innocence, and no matter how many awesome tv shows (holla fosters and pablo) i watch, and how many juiceboxes i drink, i can't regain any of it.

but people i know go through that exact same dilemma. people fear change. and i don't blame them. it's a scary thing. but i think sometimes it's for the best. today, i was contemplating something that i often think about in my mind, but have refrained from saying out loud. but he knew what i was thinking. and he said something that i don't think i ever would've expected. "it will always be his loss."

and i think to myself...what a wonderful world.

Put Your Money Down.

listening to: save our town - philadelphia grand jury.
reading: john - cynthia lennon.
watching: my dad drink his fourth beverage.
eating: air.
drinking: air.

all the best things fall to p-i-e-c-e-s, there's no point stopping now.

as peaceful and optimistic as that lyric is, i still can't help but wonder what my life (or everyone's life really) would've been like had the best things bothered to stay together. i mean, i can imagine there would probably be some sort of unethical balance in the way that "fairness" was dished out, because there wouldn't be anything wrong happening with the world, because everyone would be satisfied with their life. but little things, only sometimes, in the rare moments that i'm alone and still, and have a clear head purely for my own thoughts, i think on these things.

the littlest things that take me there.

i remember your nose wrinkling when it itched, biting your bottom lip just after you laughed, your monotone when you read the crab that played with the sea to me. and sometimes, only sometimes, i remember the day when we sat under the big whistling tree near gregory the duck, and the sky met the trees in this hushed, muted colour that i don't even think i can accurately describe in words, and your hair was soft in your eyes, and my palms were awkward and sweaty as per the usual, and you grabbed my chin and whispered something to me, with a small grin i could see with my peripherals, and i got thinking about that particular moment, and a very large part of me wanted to erase that, or at least make it so it never happened.

i've been thinking also, about my place in the world. what is it about skills? i don't really have a special talent. i have a few that put together, i don't think really resemble an apt compilation of things that i could use in a career. but then again, if anybody knows of job where you specifically need to: remember at least 80 phone numbers of friends in your head, can crack your right big toe continously, quoting almost every line from every sci-fi you've ever heard of, and can laugh at something sadistic like a little boy falling down the stairs, please don't hesitate to inform me. i may need to know about it to support myself in the future.

but basically what this all comes down to is:

those best things should probably purchase some adhesive, so they stop falling to pieces.

my autism quotient is 29. and i wasn't even baked.
good to know that i'm also mentally retarded. :)

Hard Time Finding The Words.

listening to: let it die - foo fighters.
reading: john - cynthia lennon.
watching: sherlock holmes.
eating: air.
drinking: cloudy apple juice.

so i see you sitting there, with your soft, dark hair blowing in the 8:40 wind, and your pad thai getting shovelled carefully into your smiling lips, and i want to be brave and run over to you, laughing and smiling, asking what you're eating, even though i know, and sharing it with you, panda beanie on my head, red woolly socks keeping my toes warm, and we would've kissed and written chalk messages to each other on the asphalt.

sadly, i was too afraid to even let out a squeak, so i passed you by in my dark crystal shirt, the wind howling around my ears, and my new piercings stinging a little with the force of the evening air, and tears of regret formed a little in my eyes. i remember him and i laying there in the soft grass, my breath wobbling a little, knowing he was going to leave, knowing there was absolutely nothing i could do about it. sometimes i still remember moments like that, of absolute pain, knowing that nobody else respects me enough to explain why, so i just have to tell myself falsities to feel better, but i know deep down it's no use.

the only thing he's told me in months, that he trusted me with, and he told me the stories of flowers and fungi, the affects. chopping down trees when really he'd just chopped the genitals from a flower, looking down at his arms, seeing the blood pulsing through his veins, his muscles expanding and contracting, the way his body meshed with everything in his expanse, everything he touched, no showers, or he'd melt away down the drainhole. walking, every step he took like falling down into a canyon, his tongue falling out of his mouth and dragging beneath his feet.

i sat silently as my mother fed me asparagus and apple sauce, all we've had for months now. she apologises as she cries into my arms, and hopes for the day when she'll finally be alive enough to die. soulful enough for the day her body finally goes. i stare at the tiny yellow boots on my study desk, and think about the days when my feet would've fit into them, and i would've walked the roads i've walked, dealing with drudgeries and melting in the melancholy moments.

the peaceful guitar plucking rings through this tiny room, and i imagine when dad pushed me on the tire swing, and i remember my patent shoes swishing through the long brown grass. and i realised in that moment that i was in too deep, and out of time. they say it takes a lifetime to be happy, and i say that the day i find happiness, i'll probably pass on.

Streetlights.

listening to: don't stop believin' - journey.

reading: john - cynthia lennon.

watching: auto-tuned robbery lady.

eating: air.

drinking: air.

talk about the most uneventful holidays of my life. i was expecting them to go off with a boom, considering year twelve is in two days, and i wanted to live it up before buckling down. still, despite the extreme party-hardy feel, i had an amazing holiday with chelyne to currarong, where we finished crash bandicoot: the wrath of cortex, swam in like, minus ten water, had a small reunion with a boy who i'd very nearly forgotten about, and discovered some very strange things.

i was looking at my old school work, whilst going very OCD on my room (i figured i was so OCD about my bookwork, personal hygiene, clean hands and neat clothing, i may aswell make my room that way), and found my 2P calendar. it has all the initials and signatures of the kids i was in that class with on the front. i had made a friend, one anthony smallwood, at mary's 15th birthday in centennial park whilst rather offkey, and played a massive game of so maca dora, listening to him yell out "pwned like a wow bitch!" everytime someone got caught out. he didn't seem familiar, yet his name rung a bell in a weird sort of way, i disregarded it till yesterday, finding his signature on my calendar. ( A. Smallwood with stars underneath it) now, this generally wouldn't weird me out, but it was the fact that i don't remember him at all and yet, i had spent a whole year of my life being around him five out of seven days a week (we even had choir and recorder together!).

after calling him, he ran off to find his yearbook, in which he found the photo. there i was.

strange what you find when you clean your room like a proper german. i think i'm even going to post my room at some point, just to rub it in everyone's face, about how incredible it is.

shoutout to my darling bear: you are so incredible. when you cry, i cry. if anybody ever laid a finger on you to hurt you, i would kill them. and i love you more than everyone combined, and the mere thought of sharing you with others kills me a little on the inside. so i just have to try and get over that. see me as soon as possible.

SAM I'M NOT DOING ITALIAN WITH YOU ANYMORE, BUT IT'S COOL BECAUSE WE HAVE ENGLISH WITH PATULNY, AND SAGE, PARSLEY, ROSEMARY AND TTIIIEEEEMM!

Little Wet Tears.

listening to: lady - regina spektor.
reading: the curious incident of the dog in the night-time.
watching: clueless.
eating: air.
drinking: organic OJ.

it's so strange.
i didn't ever.
think that someone.
like you could.
be so very.
very very very.
important to me.

she smelled of.
daises she drives.
me crazy she.
drives me crazy.

i miss your.
beautiful alternative hair-cut.
your cute little.
ear with the.
small silver piercing.
i hated you.
but i ended.
up loving you.
to pieces because.
you were everything.
i wanted to.
become in myself.

i miss the.
way we would.
lie down in.
camperdown park together.
we would listen.
to regina spektor.
on repeat and.
cry a little.
then we'd break.
some black forest.
cadbury chocolate and.
you'd lick my.
tears away and.
laugh so sweetly.

she says i.
can sing this.
song so blue.
that you will.
cry in spite.
of you little.
wet tears on.
your baby's shoulder.

and i did.
and i told.
her that i.
would one day.
have my little.
baby and play.
it the blues.
on the saxophone.
and she'll be.
shy like i.
was when i.
was that small.
i just hope.
she doesn't run.
out of school.
seeking refuge where.
she won't find.
anything like that.

what it comes.
down to is.
i wish i.
was like you.
but i will.
never be who.
everyone including myself.
wants me to.
be because i.
am not perfect.
infact i am.
as far away.
from that title.
as i can.
imagine to be.

i'm very sorry.
sorry to everybody.
that i can't.
function without you.
here with me.

Everybody's Laughing.

listening to: because - the beatles.

reading: still nothing. recommendations?

watching: happy tree friends - season 1: episode 3; meat me for lunch.

eating: air.

drinking: apple and raspberry organic fizz.

you can turn the city upside down like an umbrella, but it won't keep you dry.

it's sort of ridiculous how music can mean so much to me, like particular songs where you're listening to it, and suddenly you're all "did they write that directly for me?" because the lyrics just apply to every aspect of what's happening in your life at the moment, and then you find yourself getting all emotional and lost in it all. which is why i happen to love german classical. there's only two kinds of emotions, fluttery flute twiddly suspense and hardout cymbal crashing anger. and those two emotions only hurt everyone but yourself, so that makes it okay for you, right?

no matter how much i love singstar, i honestly still can't bring myself to sing i touch myself by the divinyls. yes, i love her hair, and yes, i'm determined to beat either emily or relface in every aspect (btw rel, guess who beat your top ((the top!)) on the reason? yeah, that's right. fear me, rawr) of that game that i possibly can. but i'm probs not going to bother on these words by natasha bedingfield, because like, what is even going on when she starts singing about the stage? it's more unpredictable than delta goodrem's born to try. incase you haven't guessed it yet, i'm a massive singstar nerd.

my plans for sunday: go to newtown dendy to meet my beloved igs kids, and bring mary, and do a massive oh darling! by the beatles, in front of majority of newtown king streeters, and blow their minds. get prepped.

Nicht Weinen.

listening to: mahler; symphony #3 in d minor; 5. lustig im tempo und keck im ausdruck.

reading: nothing currently. someone recommend a good book!

watching: some weird sbs film with lots of naked people (nothing out of the ordinary).

eating: spaghetti.

drinking: apple and raspberry organic fizz.

it's funny how some oatmilk paired with some serious german opera can make you the happiest person on earth. i have a distinct memory of being four years old, singing along and jumping on tables, swinging the door open at the climatic part and yelling out in "vibrato" style at my neighbours, who sat there laughing (i can't imagine why, i obviously rocked their socks).

i honestly miss the days where riding your bike home in the hail was fun (it sucked this time, my shirt went see-through, my hair got ruined and my stockings clung all soggily two my legs like overdone pasta. grosss), i miss the days when it wasn't absolutely impossible to get your way in the house, and you could listen to really loud opera and dance around the room without getting embarrassed (if you've never done this, or nobody has ever caught you, believe me, it's embarrassing), i just miss being a kid, where absolutely nothing mattered.

everything has been a little delayed and lethargic during exam time (still going), and i haven't had a spare minute to scratch myself. i am so never doing two languages again at the same time. "io avevo" should go and stick itself where the sun don't shine. another thing i've noticed is parents get lazier the older they get, i mean, guys you're only fifty, it's not like you've lost your mobility (yet) and i think it's fair that if i cook all your meals (and clean up half the mess anyway) you should clean up the other half. and how is it that even when teenagers know their rooms need to be cleaned, they still never do it? my mum's even bribed me with kizzash, and i'm still like "nah."

so i started writing some new literature yesterday, strangely after a long period of time where i didn't (was probably too busy), and it seems it has taken on a different feel, a feel of happiness and sort of empty thoughts. it's very obscure and not quite how i remember my other stuff, but i think i'll get used to it...

i hope everyone did okay on their language speaking exams. :)

California Dreamin.

listening to: giant - vampire weekend. (best!)

reading: diva - alex flinn.

watching: american crude.

eating: pineapple.

drinking: air.

i was raised with boys, i probably know them better than girls have the time. being a tomboy primarily, throughout my life, i find their company to be much better. but then god gave me chelyne.
and now i can indulge in female company, without it being girly.

dear chelyne,

thankyou for the most kickass weekend, comprised of everything and nothing all at the same time. thankyou for finding those beautiful old school disney records with me, thankyou for joining kung fu and adult choir with me. thankyou for eating our way through almost my entire house, and then some (the guilt is still clear on my stomach, face and soul), thankyou for sharing laughs with me at failed romance, failed movies involving k stew being a minger, and failed excuses about why not to do exercise and how silly having breasts is, but still laughing at moviestars who don't have any what-so-ever.
thankyou for being what i consider to be the best girl friend i could hope for.

love homefrie.

my ears are blown to bits, but i still crave that sound.

regardless of how awesome it is with chelyne, i almost feel a little empty. not as much as a couple of months ago, but i sort of feel like carrot sticks without the dip (because you can't have cake and eat it, when you don't have cake in the first place), because there's a boy that should be here with me right now, but isn't. oh lover, you should've come over (ohai jeff buckley), no but seriously, you know who you are. i can't wait till december.

i see you shine in your way, go on, go on, go on.

Little Things.

listening to: somewhere around here - chairlift.
reading: diva- alex flinn (still stuck in my crappy romance novel craving)
watching: teen tourettes camp on youtube.
eating: air.
drinking: air.



and somehow i still know they're your steps even when you aren't taking them.

and so, initially that's what it's about. simple pleasures that make you happy, no matter what.
i'm thinking about:

who's the one person in your life that truly made you the happiest you could be?

and i mean, literally the happiest you can remember. and you'll know, because it will be clear in your mind, clearer than everything else. i know my person now. and i'm so grateful to them, even though things are rough, and sometimes you land on your ass. hey, it happens.

but really think about it:

could you tell them anything? anything at all?
could you always laugh with them, even when you were crying?
when you were all alone and frightened, did they come and keep you company and comfort you?
when you stepped into something new and alien, did they hold your hand?
when you were practically dying of an anxiety attack, did you feel like you were the safest you could possibly be when they held you?

like i outlined in a previous blog, there are different meanings to the word love. and i'm sad to say that a lot of people including myself really did the pooch on this one. i was always concerned about "not being myself" and "not being how i used to be". but then i had an epiphany, and realised that was totally normal. i can't define something that is ever-changing! how can you possibly know who "you" are, if "you" always changes to different things through manipulation of different experiences? exactly. you can't define it.

but the best part about the person that makes you a whole, is they love you for who that ever-changing person is. they love them all the time, they adjust. so really, humans aren't the quickest adapting animals out there, that awesome kid who puts up with you is. (that's right, they're a species of their own)

so what i basically wanted to say is:

thanks for the sprinkler kisses, the park picnics, the salmon cakes and the COD 2 battles (o hai stalin quotes), the late afternoon swims, the beautiful low heeled spats, thanks for the security, the discounted popcorn chicken, thanks for handing me stuff when i was puking in your bathroom (yes, even through the nitty gritty side of things), thanks for holding my hand when i was nervous, the intense conversations with hardly any content, thanks for treating lamby the way i do (he's totally real, don't deny it), thanks for the sheet fortresses, the smiles and the osama-bin-puppy face.

i know things suck now. and this isn't a whinge. this is a thankyou. you seriously improved my outlook on myself and my life, and if i could say this all to your face, i totally would. but i'm sort of frightened you'll eat me. so this will have to suffice. thanks for everything. *hearts*

Intricate Patterns.

listening to: questions for an ex-lover - loveisastory.
reading: my desperate love diary pt 2 - liz rettig.

watching: this screen.

eating: air.

drinking: apple & blackcurrant juice with green jelly.

i don't think there's anything that actually makes me happier than those people, you know the ones. the types that you have no previous connections with, that you only just discover what a diamond in the rough they are, only less lame. more sort of the life on mars that you didn't think was there, but then you realised it was on amerika's tortured brow all along.

a world that is constructed of inside jokes and laughter chokes.

the types of people that you love just sitting there and talking to, the types where the conversation lacks direction, but somehow is fulled to the brim with tear jerking and ideally explicit content. the type that is just like you: r-e-b-e-l-l-i-n-g against the system, the club of scrubs, the leaders of breeders, the races of laces. (those dr martens won't tie themselves!)

mashing buttons with the greatest of timing, with the sound of our power-ups chiming.

i think this world would be so much better if we had more people that are more ideologically stimulating at 10pm, after their second cold-meat dinner, than those types who are only briefly stimulating after their 10am stimulants. (you do the math, unless you're more creatively inclined.) i feel like i've forgotten something, only the problem is, i can't remember what i forgot.

just a heads up: what i'm listening to is probably the saddest song i've ever heard. so in short, refrain from listening, or you may die of broken organs. and we all know that broken organs, when they repair, have the tendency to fit back broken and mutilated.

fortunately for me, as t-w-i-s-t-e-d as my laughter is, it brings smiles. :)

Ohkrana-rama.

listening to: two weeks - grizzly bear.

reading: my desperate love diary pt 2 - liz rettig.

watching: that 70s show.

drinking: water.

eating: air.

so i've come to the conclusion after many discussions with kids like smaz and punchie-boo, that the thing that frustrates me about IGS is the fact that the teachers have their own gestapo going on, like a secret police that stalks everything we do.

they are the ohkrana, the gestapo, the ankhar...with all seeing eyes, like a pineapple. (boy overboard reffs)

they are everywhere.

don't think your blogs, facebook, or parties are safe.

chances are, if it happens, if it's sent, if it's posted. they are gonna know about it.

i'm not going to lie, some of the kids in the student leader group i wasn't very happy with.

i wasn't expecting or wanting to get in, i just honestly wanted a group of kids that were genuine and genuinely wanted to make our houses and school place a better environment.

genuine being the key word.

but i have complete confidence that a few of them will manage to do that, however, i believe that some people did deserve to be student leaders that didn't get in, like georgia davis (love that girl) and nat earl (would've made an excellent gura boy leader!) but what are you gonna do? life was meant to screw you over.

on a slightly happier note, i found out today that i will indeed be keeping my legs (everyone who gets this, do a bit of a victory dance) and that my parents by order of the hospital will have to have diabetes for a week! take that mum. (testing when i test, injecting saline, eating at correct times etc)

it is going to go off.

Broken Legs.

listening to: basic space - XX.
reading: my desperate love diary pt 2 - liz rettig.
watching: that 70s show (eric forman have my babies)
eating: dried apricot and walnuts.
drinking: water.

love is so fickle, it starts with a flood,
and ends with a trick-trick-trick-trickle.

i honestly fleetingly recognised how amazing it is having people that still appreciate the importance of coming up with a sincerely good quality code when you can't be stuffed listening to patulny rant on about "exploring the definition of murder" and "what self-love really is". thank you smaz for making this morning's english lesson one of the best this year so far. i honestly couldn't have been more amused. i've decided we should turn it into a font on our computer, simply because we can (in the way that iago "simply could" destroy jon othello).

turtle moment of the day: no sir, i don't think it's appropriate that after five months of failing to acknowledge my existence, feeling that it's okay to neck pinch me and chat to me. even if you did believe me to be your pretty lady friend.

an interesting fact for everyone: did you know that super low calorie nutrient water tastes like what would happen if you mixed armpit sweat with strawberry panadol? my tongue basically fell out of my mouth and bailed hard on me (but unlike that beer ad, it didn't bring back a tasty cold hahn for me. devvo.)

this voting buisness was so much more intense than it needed to be. i'm not going to lie, student leadership is so stupid. however, when those pretty year 10 girls came up to me and directly told me they had voted for me, i suppose all those surpressed years of unpopularity came to fruition, and i suddenly felt very happy and included. i would actually l-a-u-g-h if i got it.

what an excellent leader i would make. topping my year for tardiness to school. baha.

Poignant, But Deluded.

listening to: amazing - blue october.

reading: my desperate love diary - liz rettig.

watching: the channel that dictates whether or not to mass suicide if TA becomes PM.

eating: air.

drinking: pepsi max.

i scratch at your waistline, your doll hair.
i dig up the thought of how your eyes glow.

i've come to the realisation (yes, today's epiphany) that it takes two of each kind.

noah and his fammers had the right idea. see, in a relationship (friend or more) i honestly believe that the "opposites attract" rule applies heavily to at least 80% of relationships.

there has to be a talker and a listener.

but tonight driving back in the car with dad, we explored this theory in greater depth, and actually discussed the misconceptions that people hold of those particular stereotypes.

a talker doesn't necessarily mean all they do is mindlessly ramble on. albeit that's what i do 90% of the time (yeah, i'm a talker. shock. horror.) there are other times when i say valid, constructive things and make fairly structured and sensical points.

a listener doesn't necessarily always listen, they do infact speak, however they ponder their thoughts more rather than spewing out word vomit, and tend to drive the conversation with ease, with perhaps one question that leaves everybody discussing.

it's difficult to find people like that, i would say. hard to find people that you easily click with.

but i've found a good group of kids. and i appreciate the fact that i can speak to people on the same intellectual level as me, and actually properly engage. cheers guys.

Heart And Soul.

listening to: still thrives this love - k.d. lang.

reading: my desperate love diary - liz rettig.

watching: love, actually.

eating: blueberry yoghurt.

drinking: valencia orange nutrientwater.

there seems to be a bit of a theme going on here.

i don't understand how k.d. lang's beautiful voice can sway my mood and my hips simultaneously.
her voice is absolutely astounding, and if nobody has had the pleasure of listening to her, i highly recommend it. just make sure you have your lover next to you, hawhaw.

her lyrics are naught but genius, and her amazing tone control...i can't comprehend someone to be that talented. she's the perfect mixture of modern with the old fashioned dirty dancing.

if only i could actually dance, i would be right now...

guess it's time to find a tall, attractive boy to do the cute "let me put you on my feet" thing.

Compliment Each Other Like Colours.

listening to: at this particular moment in time - playradioplay!

reading: a clockwork orange - anthony burgess.

watching: nothing.

eating: subway cookies.

drinking: blueberry tea.

what do you do? (when your life's a disaster) i take it slow because i have time.

what do you say? (when you know something's right) back to the days when you were mine.

i won't be 'aving none of this appy polly logies. i'm doing quite alrighty right right on me oddy knocky. and to be swank, i couldn't glove you more than me german rooty toots and everyfin else that came along forthwith to the sociables. yes sir, no more dare i say than the casio-tone black and whites, no more than the sweets to the sweet sense of givin' a malenky bit of a t-o-l-c-h-o-k-i-n-g with the bolshy big boots, no more sir, than the horrorshow feeling of belching out the stinking tunes of me forefathers, and dare i say i shall never glove you in the way i glove this uvver 'ere malchickywick.

(enough nadsat for today, i should imagine)

now for the real part. i guess this is basically about many topics.

like how great chilled blueberry tea is after a mighty long bikeride, or perhaps how fantastic it is when somebody says you remind them of the "graveyard girl" in an m83 song, or a vampire in a very non-twilight show. or perhaps even how great it is to go walkies in the dark of night, hand in hand with an old friend, respecting those that are passed, being careful not to step on the gravestones. or maybe it's about how through absolute devastation, one can rise up to a feeling of utmost happiness.

i'm sitting here, thinking about all the silly things i did when i was 15. how i went from the most innocent of beings to what can only be described as...well, not sheltered, i guess. sure, i've made some mistakes, but i'm only human (and i'm man enough to face 'em today - eminem. wot.)

but you know, like jon said, i'm happy i've got a great group of friends that don't feel the need to destroy their lives in order to live to the best of their ability.

i love the fact that ru knits.

i love the fact that chelyne knows almost every song from the 80s off by heart.

i love the fact that arielle still plays pokemon, and knows all the themes.

i love the fact that lasry and lambie still have nerf gun wars. (NERRRFFFF)

i love the fact that passas speaks japanese, even though he's greek.

i love the fact that jordan won't eat unsulfured apricots.

i love the fact that sam hardly ever speaks, yet he still gets all my jokes.

and last but not least, i love the fact that even though i've been one of the most emotionally charged, angsty, frightened, clingy friend pretty much ever to walk the planet, my dear marebear stuck with me the whole time.

i'm sticking with you. because i'm made out of glue.

anything that you might do. i'm going to do too.

so there are different kinds of love, i've come to realise.

there's the sort of love where you enjoy the basic company of someone, and you can't imagine lunchtimes without them, because they always make you laugh.

there's the sort where you have a friend who you can tell a lot of things, and you know that they'll be there when they can, and your secrets are safe.

there's the kind of love where despite everyone telling you someone is a bad person, you put it all aside and love them through thick and thin, and you form your own opinion.

there's that love where you absolutely adore someone, and you can't imagine the rest of your life without them, they complete you, and if they ever left, you'd be empty, like a hollow shell.

and then there's the best kind. the kind of person that will love you forever, and despite some arguments, will never let you down. they are always there, doing everything with you, never abandoning you at the drop of the hat. the kind of person i'm talking about, is the type of person that cherishes every moment with you, comes away from you smiling, the kind of person where your heart jumps into your throat and you want to glomp them aggressively every time you see them. they are your soul.

this my friends, is the biffle.

it's a rare phenomenon amongst teenagers, and to find a completely trustworthy and beautiful one is very difficult to come by. and i thank old bog every day that i have someone as special as her. :)

Sugarfoot Dancing.

listening to: schism - tool.

reading: my old journal.

watching: fosters home for imaginary friends on cartoon network.

eating: air.

drinking: water.

so much for a viscereal experience. the only thing i experienced was stale cereal when i got home. there's something dangerous about growing up, i feel sort of similar to T.S. Eliot, he's getting all caught up in the conundrum that is time, and i'm sitting here having a whinge about the same thing. now i finally understand how he feels. getting older SUCKS.

right about now, i'd be sitting here with my close friends, on my dull and lifeless grey carpet, eating baked goods and practicing to be handy-crafty for when i became an old nana, knitting bedsocks for my grandkids (and i still miss my oma's socks & gingerbread), but i guess the saying goes "i'll do it tomorrow", when i don't feel like my stomach is in my toes.

today is going to be a day of change. i'm throwing out all my old clothes, and tomorrow, i'm going shopping for an entirely new wardrobe. say hello to dark greens, deep reds, chocolate browns, blacks, white, greys and my brand new terracotta boat shoes. i finally feel like i'm getting somewhere with my personal style, and all i have to do now is lose a decent amount of weight so i'll look excellent in it all.

but i still pose the question: what the hell is yaleto?

(am i right, easyway-ers?)

Somewhere Around Here.

listening to: an imagined affair - elbow.

reading: gad's travels blog.

watching: happy tree friends, season 3, episode 7; this is your knife.

eating: milk chocolate.

drinking: water.

i'm back home again. can't say it's the greatest feeling ever, infact; i think i'd much rather be in s-l-o-wbart.
had an amazing weekend with the people i am most at ease with. can't say i didn't completely melt at the prospect of my saturday night being spent making gourmet pizzas (cutting them with scissors!) and getting pwned in halo by gads. best part was when bogcheese got scoped and annihilated. haha.

zoom. a-i-m. BANG.

/clean cut./

i've been in a strange post-tassie blues. listening to elbow songs on repeat because they're so melancholy and slow. got lots of new music with lots of different moods and sounds, and am enjoying it greatly. it was pleasant to come home, however, and find my darling cat (not you, finbar, the other one) curled up on my bed waiting for me. she meowed like crazy for what seemed like minutes on end, and smooched all up on me and followed me around like a lost puppy. it was cute, in a pathetic sort of way.

today whilst purchasing my dodgy dinner of vegetarian hokkien noodles and a strawberry boost, the cute boy alex who works there remembered who i was, and asked me for my number. not knowing what to do, i scribbled it down, threw it at him, and ran off. sometimes i doubt the people who believe i'm socially apt.

i have to say for the first time in something like five months, i'm not feeling sad or unloved. infact, today at school, despite having only three hours of sleep the night before, i realised that a lot of people were actually pleased to see me, and all stopped to say hello and have a chat. also, i'm not hopelessly wishing that the only person i ever cared about will have a sudden change in t-w-i-s-t-e-d heart, infact, i have (after a very long healing process) moved on to a different person. a kind and loving person, who doesn't lie to me, and doesn't treat me with disrespect.

although i don't think he knows i exist.

it's so fun being a dorky brunette who looks at wookiepedia in her spare time (star wars wiki), designs new futuristic weapons on paint, sits on her own and plays left for dead two & team fortress two (and who could forget good old counterstrike source?), knows all the moons of the planets in star wars, is fluent in nadsat, and dreams of the day when she can own an /authentic/ star trooper print apron.

love my life.

Forever Young.

listening to: faster the treadmill - i fight dragons.
reading: knit two by kate jacobs.
watching: flight of the conchords, season one, episode four; yoko.
eating: air.
drinking: water.

it's actually really quite frightening when after a few years, you truly realise how much you've changed. and the worst part about being a teenager is, even though majority of us really don't like ourselves (unless we're conceited arrogant bastards, i could name a few) we have to suck it up, and take all the things we like and accept the rest for what it is.

i was speaking to two very good friends of mine earlier on today, both who had m-o-v-e-d away to different parts of our planet, and now they are both back for their respective time slots. we discussed many interesting things like putting toothpaste up nostrils, why people eat pre-sliced meat when you can cut it yourself, early pregnancy and steroid in cream form.

but it made me think, and i realised that there situations would be so completely different had all of this occured when we were much younger, and it got me thinking about how i valued who i was so much more as a kid. i don't know whether or not i should do something about this, or if i even can.

can you possibly restore innocence? or is that something that just leaves along with your dignity when you turn sixteen? i don't know if i can handle growing up. i'm seventeen next year. it's the fail age that doesn't really signify anything except for "suck it up loser, you're going to be a legalised adult in a year, so you better get all your angsty teen hate out now while you can."
and let's be fair, even if it does suck to be angsty and hateful, we're totally not going to be allowed to do that when we hit twenty.

so basically what i'm trying to say is:
you need to be innocent because you're afraid of how much you've changed?

do what i do.
swear less, eat fruitcups and play neopets.

Den Of Thieves.

listening to: your hand in mine - explosions in the sky.

reading: emily booth's writing.

watching: doctor who, season 3, episode: the long game.

eating: dried fruit and nuts.

drinking: air.

being dangled over a pit of shrinks your entire life isn't exactly the kind of thing you enjoy when you're a reclusive, bookworm, boot-stomping, j-o-u-r-n-a-l-l-i-n-g hermit of a teenager. i'm getting sort of tired of all of the poor analogies that they use, and they're relentless, repetitive one-liners ("and how do you feel about that?"), and who could forget the methodical, admirable-sympathetic prowess ("how do you do that? coping with all of that? i wish i could do that like you do!").

we're all pretty /darn/ sick of it. in short.

"morgan, have you ever eaten a food that you adored as a kid, but now you hate?"

"uh yeah, pickled onions."
"morgan, you are his pickled onion."

(oh my god, you've got to be joking...)

"morgan, you're like a strong building, with three main foundations."

"which are?"

"well one, your school, that keeps you in routine and keeps you busy."
"mm, right. and?"
"the next would be your family. they love and support you."

"HA. yeah, keep going."

"why did you laugh?"

"no reason. keep going."
"and of course, your lover."

"eww, don't use that word."

"okay, boyfriend."

"mm, not much better."

"anyway, one of those foundations have fallen out from under you."

"three guesses which."

"and now you will crumble and fall, or end up like piza on a /slant/."

"and the resolution?"

"i didn't have one. didn't really know where i was going with that..."

(double oh my god, are you serious?!)

don't even waste your breath guys. i mean, every teenager (well, that i know) is a resilient beast, and we all do perfectly fine without you people hanging over us when we do or say anything out of the norm. i'm on a road of self-discovery, for goodness sake.

if you kiss a girl, it doesn't make you a lesbian.

if you get high, it doesn't make you a drug addict.

if you are (curvy), it doesn't make you ((fat)).

if you talk with a large vocabulary, it doesn't make you a smartarse.

if you like maths and are good at it, it doesn't make you a nerd.

if you YELL at someone for being a jerk, it doesn't make you a bitch.

p.s. shout out to smaz. i've only just realised that you are probably the most awesome person to have italian with. the fact that you are known purely for drinking the one particular softdrink (and it's the best! solo!) and that you're basically one of the only people that actually GETS me and my retarded sense of humour...i commend you.

Drinking Tea When It's Cold.

listening to: she's got you high - mumm-ra.
reading: yen magazine, issue 45.
watching: my facebook for any messages.
eating: unsalted cashews.
drinking: air.




i don't really understand how julia stone could live on a diet entirely of chocolate and cigarettes.
i mean, that's sort of a paradox. chocolate gets you fat. cigarettes make you thin.
maybe she's like mary, and just wants to plateau, so she stays the /same/ weight.

hah. i wish.

today was a day of gratitude.

i am grateful that i have amazing friends at school, that love me for who i am and don't think i'm emotionally intense or an annoying person to deal with. i love the fact that i can sit in sickbay writing in my journal and drinking chicken noodle soup, wrapped up in a fleece blanket with dolphins on it, that i stole from bronte leighton-dore, and nobody questions it. i love the fact that i have the greatest best friend, who's undeniably loyal to me, and loves me just as much as i love her.

and as strange as it may seem, i love the fact that i have feelings for a boy who is much too advanced for me, and much too amazing, and probably doesn't know i exist.

i absolutely must organise this whole friday night textiles club. i'm wondering which wools to buy, and whether or not everyone has some sort of knitting needles? maybe i should contact people via the only way anyone ever recieves anything.

good old facebook.

Morning Glory.

listening to: we own the sky - M83.
reading: the wonderful message mary wrote me in my book.
watching: happy tree friends season 2 episode 4; meat me for lunch.
eating: air.
drinking: water.

i honestly love you more deeply than i can describe, or maybe my small vocabulary doesn't permit sappy emotional feel-gooders. in any case, you are basically the reason i breathe.
don't think i don't need you in my life, because the truth is:

i really, REALLY do.

today my heart lept out of my face when i saw your soft, pixie-like hair blowing in the b-r-e-e-z-e.
you smiled in that amazing way, that no other human can replicate, and i nearly melted with happiness. i just wanted to kiss you, and thank you tenderly for everything you have done.
because, to be fair, you've done so much more than anyone else i know. and you continue to do things for me everyday. things that i didn't think friends COULD do for one another.

but somehow, you find a way.

soft, mellow synth plays on surround, and my head hurts from the brightness of the stop sign on my wall. it has good intentions, but does it really need to burn into my skull? maybe i should just get lakita to crack it. my thought cards are helping, and i'm sure this beautiful book will too. i love your made-up swears, i love your dark eyes, your vibrant laugh, your beautiful greek nose.
you are so goddamn greek. but it's okay, you'll make an excellent yaya.

i wish you were here with me all the time. but unfortunately, that would make me the clingiest clinger to cling, and that would be simply awkies. but when i do see you, i treasure every moment.

because unlike me, you have a life.
and dreams.
and extra curricular activities.

like i said, i know you love him, but please, somewhere, leave some space in that heart of yours for me. because nobody has ever loved me like you do.