Dear Lord
I pray
whilst he sits upon the golden heath
waiting upon her now
I watch and I pray
yet I do not pray for him
and I do not pray for her
I fear I have a devil on my back
so we do not dance
and we do not speak
I hope he has an angel in his heart
I watch while I pray
for those less fortunate
for those more fortunate
whilst I kneel upon the wooden bench
bringing the square colours
down with my eyes
my knees feel the heat
the weight of the lids
24 candles blowing in the breeze
from the chapel door
the leaves remind me of you
coming and going as they please
I watch and I pray
yet I do not pray for you
and I do not pray for me
I fear I have a devil on my back
so I take off my jacket
and I take off my hat
I feel the breeze fill the gap
whilst he sits upon the golden heath
I watch while I pray
listening to the wind
whispering Amen.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Inspiration
Thought for the day:
It is a great feeling not to listen to those who say you will not be able to achieve something that you aspire to and to go on and achieve it anyway. The inspiration doesn’t come from proving them wrong, it comes from the discovery that you can.
There are those that you trust and believe, they inspire you to persevere with your aspiration, to overcome doubt from others and yourself, and those are the people that you listen to.
It is a great feeling not to listen to those who say you will not be able to achieve something that you aspire to and to go on and achieve it anyway. The inspiration doesn’t come from proving them wrong, it comes from the discovery that you can.
There are those that you trust and believe, they inspire you to persevere with your aspiration, to overcome doubt from others and yourself, and those are the people that you listen to.
Time
I wrote this two weeks ago whilst sitting at the Sydney airport waiting to embark on a journey to Albury.
Time.
It’s a strange concept really. It always reminds me of airports. Airports are the bustling hub of time. They hold every second and every hour and they efficiently use every second and every hour. There is no time for mistakes at airports. I missed my plane this morning, so I’m rather preoccupied with this mischievous, deceptive and foolishly misunderstood concept. We all know and accept that time passes, but do we know the formula of time over the speed that time passes? Is there a scientific reason for why sometimes time goes very quickly and it is impossible to keep track of where the time went, and at other times time goes so excruciatingly slowly you are left counting down each second and playing number games. I think the reason for this is our level of consciousness when we think about time passing. I’m sure many people have come up with that theory before and have expressed it more eloquently than I have, but I want to explore it a little bit more. Everyone has thought at some point a variation of, I wish that this moment could last forever. Or subsequently, I can’t wait until tomorrow. It’s so close, yet so far away! These overused statements may be clichés but they also demonstrate our power over time, or rather, the power our mental state can have over the passing of time. So how can we use this to our advantage rather than stressing about how fast time goes, and it passing before you can hold onto and appreciate the present? We can manipulate the passing of time by thinking about the concept in a different way. We can acknowledge that time passes at different speeds in different situations, however, it is important to remember that the actual length of a second will always be the same. If the building blocks of time are based on the same second length, then we know that no matter what, time will always pass at the same rate in reality. While this is obvious, it is useful when making sure time doesn’t pass too quickly or slowly in your mind. Time is divided into sections, semi-sections and semi-semi sections, but it is essentially the same length at every point of its cycle. This is the key to how we are able to use time to benefit our routines. We know how much time is available to us, how much we need and how fast or slow it seems to go, so by using this knowledge we can exploit every second that is available to us. Or, of course, we can by a proper alarm clock so we wake up with enough time to get to the airport without missing our planes.
Time.
It’s a strange concept really. It always reminds me of airports. Airports are the bustling hub of time. They hold every second and every hour and they efficiently use every second and every hour. There is no time for mistakes at airports. I missed my plane this morning, so I’m rather preoccupied with this mischievous, deceptive and foolishly misunderstood concept. We all know and accept that time passes, but do we know the formula of time over the speed that time passes? Is there a scientific reason for why sometimes time goes very quickly and it is impossible to keep track of where the time went, and at other times time goes so excruciatingly slowly you are left counting down each second and playing number games. I think the reason for this is our level of consciousness when we think about time passing. I’m sure many people have come up with that theory before and have expressed it more eloquently than I have, but I want to explore it a little bit more. Everyone has thought at some point a variation of, I wish that this moment could last forever. Or subsequently, I can’t wait until tomorrow. It’s so close, yet so far away! These overused statements may be clichés but they also demonstrate our power over time, or rather, the power our mental state can have over the passing of time. So how can we use this to our advantage rather than stressing about how fast time goes, and it passing before you can hold onto and appreciate the present? We can manipulate the passing of time by thinking about the concept in a different way. We can acknowledge that time passes at different speeds in different situations, however, it is important to remember that the actual length of a second will always be the same. If the building blocks of time are based on the same second length, then we know that no matter what, time will always pass at the same rate in reality. While this is obvious, it is useful when making sure time doesn’t pass too quickly or slowly in your mind. Time is divided into sections, semi-sections and semi-semi sections, but it is essentially the same length at every point of its cycle. This is the key to how we are able to use time to benefit our routines. We know how much time is available to us, how much we need and how fast or slow it seems to go, so by using this knowledge we can exploit every second that is available to us. Or, of course, we can by a proper alarm clock so we wake up with enough time to get to the airport without missing our planes.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
I sit at my window and I look out
As it is very very hot here, at this time of day we lie in our air conditioned rooms and look out onto the city. It feels so wrong, which is the wrong word, it feels so unfair or injust, again wrong words, to be sitting here in such comfort when I look down and see twenty brown buildings just below rotting from the inside where hundreds of people live in one room. I had the blinds closed all day today and I realised when I opened them just then that it so easy to shut out things that aren't quite right, that we don't agree with or don't know what to do about. I feel like I'm in a differing Beijing to the people down below. But the world is changing, and I really hope it is for the better.
All of these thoughts remind me of Just A Girl who always thinks about issues and actively does something about them. I feel like a bad person. On the streets walking down, I'm a bad person because I don't know what to do. I always wonder about the wealthy natives here. There some amazingly expensive and fancy places to eat, live and shop here. It really is two different worlds in adjacent streets.
There is so much going on in this country, so much complicated, unknown and misunderstood stuff, so I sit at my window and I look out.
All of these thoughts remind me of Just A Girl who always thinks about issues and actively does something about them. I feel like a bad person. On the streets walking down, I'm a bad person because I don't know what to do. I always wonder about the wealthy natives here. There some amazingly expensive and fancy places to eat, live and shop here. It really is two different worlds in adjacent streets.
There is so much going on in this country, so much complicated, unknown and misunderstood stuff, so I sit at my window and I look out.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Beijing is a brilliant bonanza
After one of the most stressful weeks of my life I am in the city of smog and smiles - Beijing. I am currently on level 20 of a high rise building and looking out onto the lights and sounds (I think I just breeched the copyright of yellowcard)and it is beautiful. It really does feel like I am floating on a grey cloud over hundreds of colourful light shows, in which strands and balls of light dance and celebrate their luminosity.
Okay, rewind.
While quite unlikely, if you don't know why I am in Beijing I will explain.
My parents live in China because they like walking long distances and if you haven't walked from Aus to China it's a very long way. Dad is a doctor that doctors with a company here while Mum learns Chinese and scares people on the train by asking them what a certain stroke of a character means. They love it here, and I never really understood why until I came here two days ago.
The people are generally so friendly, caring and helpful. That sounds generic, let me elaborate. The woman on the seat next to me on the plane helped me go through customs, catch the train through the airport and collect my luggage. Not for money, or praise or some creepy reason, but for the very sake of helping. There are people like that here everywhere.
Another example of this was when we were walking down a street in the middle of the city, one of the old traditional streets that hasn't been destroyed and turned into a westernised or southernised area. These streets are very dirty and the living conditions seem poor, but there are little quadrants where many families live and have lived for many centuries. This adds to the charm of the sreets as the people are so friendly and say "ni hao!" when you pass. Dad was teaching me how to count in mandarin (yi, er, san, si, wu, liu, qi, ba, jiu, shi -i actually had to google the spelling!!) while we were walking along the street, and then an elderly-ish man got up from his seat on the side of the street and started to walk next to us and help me get the tones right on my numbers. Within a moment he had two of his friends next to him and they kept helping me count for quite a while.
Another experience I have to share before I go is the one with the fish. Mum was going to order fish in the outside restuarant we were in and the next thing we know she was engaging in a vivid discussion about a particular word on the menu. In order to illustrate what they were trying to say, the waitresses brought out a fully grown fish in a net. I'm not particularly accustomed to live fish chiming in on word explanations but I'm always open to new company. Mum eventually decided to save the fish and send it back while it was still in its net, so after dinner she wanted to see if it was still alive so she asked to see where the fish were kept. Suddenly we were all swept into the restuarant and were shown a tank with bright yellow water and soft drink containers. My brother: "Mum, the fish has turned into a lemonade bottle!"
I will write about today soon!!!
xoox
Okay, rewind.
While quite unlikely, if you don't know why I am in Beijing I will explain.
My parents live in China because they like walking long distances and if you haven't walked from Aus to China it's a very long way. Dad is a doctor that doctors with a company here while Mum learns Chinese and scares people on the train by asking them what a certain stroke of a character means. They love it here, and I never really understood why until I came here two days ago.
The people are generally so friendly, caring and helpful. That sounds generic, let me elaborate. The woman on the seat next to me on the plane helped me go through customs, catch the train through the airport and collect my luggage. Not for money, or praise or some creepy reason, but for the very sake of helping. There are people like that here everywhere.
Another example of this was when we were walking down a street in the middle of the city, one of the old traditional streets that hasn't been destroyed and turned into a westernised or southernised area. These streets are very dirty and the living conditions seem poor, but there are little quadrants where many families live and have lived for many centuries. This adds to the charm of the sreets as the people are so friendly and say "ni hao!" when you pass. Dad was teaching me how to count in mandarin (yi, er, san, si, wu, liu, qi, ba, jiu, shi -i actually had to google the spelling!!) while we were walking along the street, and then an elderly-ish man got up from his seat on the side of the street and started to walk next to us and help me get the tones right on my numbers. Within a moment he had two of his friends next to him and they kept helping me count for quite a while.
Another experience I have to share before I go is the one with the fish. Mum was going to order fish in the outside restuarant we were in and the next thing we know she was engaging in a vivid discussion about a particular word on the menu. In order to illustrate what they were trying to say, the waitresses brought out a fully grown fish in a net. I'm not particularly accustomed to live fish chiming in on word explanations but I'm always open to new company. Mum eventually decided to save the fish and send it back while it was still in its net, so after dinner she wanted to see if it was still alive so she asked to see where the fish were kept. Suddenly we were all swept into the restuarant and were shown a tank with bright yellow water and soft drink containers. My brother: "Mum, the fish has turned into a lemonade bottle!"
I will write about today soon!!!
xoox
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Poetry In Red Light
I just got back from a poetry reading. Yes I know I am cool, but its how I chose to spend my Thursday evening!There was a very good looking guitarist and singer there too, I'll have you know. Anyway, here is the poem I wrote about the poetry reading! Ironic! Well let's just pretend it's ironic.
THE POETRY READING
Confidently he spoke with a voice of clout
Reading what he’d written in his sleep
And then
His hands were shaking
Shaking and shaking as he stood in poise
In the red warm room
Where the wood in the walls stood as steady as pillars on the Colosseums
Where they chanted prayers in Athens to the gods and sat on stones
His hands were shaking
One hand in his pocket in an attempt to muffle the quakes
A tea towel to cover the carrot cake
Keeping it warm and safe from Dad
I thought
This man was showing his colour
Colouring his life in the colours of poetry
A different colour for every fascination
He was brave
And then
His hands were shaking
I wanted to leap off my plastic chair in the front row and hold them still
He knew
We were listening
But his hands were shaking
To the rhythm of the poem
So there I sat
And my hands started to shake too.
I don't know about you but I got three things out of that poem
1. I am procastinating instead of doing my Power and Change Essay Plan which is due tomorrow
2. Not only did I go to a 3 hour poetry reading I also sat in the front row
3. I felt jibbed that the confident poet guy was nervous
LOVE! xoxo
THE POETRY READING
Confidently he spoke with a voice of clout
Reading what he’d written in his sleep
And then
His hands were shaking
Shaking and shaking as he stood in poise
In the red warm room
Where the wood in the walls stood as steady as pillars on the Colosseums
Where they chanted prayers in Athens to the gods and sat on stones
His hands were shaking
One hand in his pocket in an attempt to muffle the quakes
A tea towel to cover the carrot cake
Keeping it warm and safe from Dad
I thought
This man was showing his colour
Colouring his life in the colours of poetry
A different colour for every fascination
He was brave
And then
His hands were shaking
I wanted to leap off my plastic chair in the front row and hold them still
He knew
We were listening
But his hands were shaking
To the rhythm of the poem
So there I sat
And my hands started to shake too.
I don't know about you but I got three things out of that poem
1. I am procastinating instead of doing my Power and Change Essay Plan which is due tomorrow
2. Not only did I go to a 3 hour poetry reading I also sat in the front row
3. I felt jibbed that the confident poet guy was nervous
LOVE! xoxo
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Two in one day? It must be a Personal Best.
Today was fantastic. I think when everything feels crappy for a while and then it all just dissapears it all becomes so, sort of, Biggest Loserish. Not that I watch that show...Okay I did watch that show tonight. And you know what JAG? They jumped off that cliff. They climbed that rockface. Then they gave a big sentimental shpeil about life the universe and everything. But they did it in between ad breaks, and that takes courage. So I decided to write something to celebrate their feats. This is for anyone who has ever hated something about themselves, or wasn't sure why they were the way they were, or looked at somebody and thought, "they can do what I can't do and be what I can't be." I grew up with poetry. My first poem was about colours, and as you can imagine it didn't inspire much creativity, but for the first time ever I was in control of something, I had created something that was completely my own. Two nights ago I was thinking about my poems and I realised I didn't like them because they didn't have a structure or any poetic effects. They weren't Harwood's or Hewett's or Judith Wright's. But in a somewhat corny sentimental serendipity, it occured to me tonight that if I enjoyed writing them then nothing could rain on that parade. Except of course, actual rain, but there are these cool ladybeetle umbrellas and nothing bad can happen when there are cool labybeetle umbrellas. Here it is:
Maybe we can
We’ve said we couldn’t
We knew we wouldn’t
We laughed about it until the sun didn’t give the moon the light
We sat there in stillness until the red hills disappeared into the night
I thought of what you said
I could give this a shape
I would give this a form
But life isn’t neatly organised into perfect filing cabinets
We are sad sometimes
We feel stupid and strange and silly
We stand out or we sink in
We change our direction
Our feet speed up on the ground and the side of our shoe touches the side of our other shoe as the steps get smaller and the beat gets quicker and our heart catches up as we race our shoelaces when they hit the ground
Our mind slows down while reading the book and we forget what we have just read and we go back a few pages and we have to focus on every word to take it in and it all seems like too much work so we lie down and fall asleep
We don’t stand in stanzas
We don’t keep to one pace
We don’t neatly tie our words together
We jump
I’ve bungee jumped before. It was as if I’d left myself behind there on the wooden step and this person jumping into the air was someone else, someone I’d never met who was in my clothes but they weren’t my clothes because my clothes had never felt that heavy and light at once in the wind
My mind isn’t straight forward. I’m everywhere. I’m on the bus. I’m at my desk. I’m in that room. I’m back at school.
I don’t like structure. It’s like a perfectly ironed shirt. A white piece of bread. No surprises. One meaning. A scrunched shirt gives many meanings. We can decide what it means for ourselves.
If I take your hand and squeeze it tight and lead you through the tea trees I will pull you through the shrubbery and untangle you from the clinging branches.
Things are looking upper
All I can say is, thank goodness for the coffee shop down the street. I like the city, I like coffee.
Thank you goodness and all you have done for us as the body of lost souls without coffee.
I am stressed. I have a #$%&load (I feel rude swearing on my blog, is that normal?) of things to do today. Exhale. That's better.
If you haven't spoken to me lately you will not know that I have recently started hating my poetry. So in Gemini-stupid-idiot-esque-style I wrote a poem/piece of writing about it.
What I want to do
What if I can’t do what I want to do because I don’t do what I want to do because I can’t?
If I stop doing what I want to do because I don’t think I want to do what I thought I wanted to do.
If I stop wanting to do what I wanted to do because I don’t think I can do what I wanted to do.
If I stop wanting to want to do what I wanted to do because I wanted to do what I couldn’t do.
If I stop wanting to do what I couldn’t do because I want to something that I can.
If I stop wanting to do what I can do because I wanted to do something that I can’t.
If I stop wanting to do what I can’t do because there isn’t something that I can.
If I stop wanting to do what I can do because there isn’t something that I can’t do apart from doing what I can do.
If I stop wanting.
If I stop doing.
If I stop.
What if I can’t do what I want to do because I do what I want to do but not what I can?
What I want to do
Yes, it is jibberish. But it makes a point: I can't write poetry.
I'm so tired, this coffee better kick in soon.
List of things to do today:
1. Post my old aeroplane ticket to webjet so I can get new aeroplane ticket before the end of the day, or I won't be able to go to China.
2. Re-write an assignment that is due today at 12:15.
3. Facilitate a group discussion on Communication and Information Environments.
4. Write a report about television and what my group said about television.
5. Return library books
6. Print assignment at the library
7. Go to my doctors appointment
8. Quit University and start training to become an air hostess
9. Research police woman training
10. Get another coffee.
And all before 4:00 today.
I'm stressed. But its all my fault. So I'll deal with it.
P.S I love JAG.
Thank you goodness and all you have done for us as the body of lost souls without coffee.
I am stressed. I have a #$%&load (I feel rude swearing on my blog, is that normal?) of things to do today. Exhale. That's better.
If you haven't spoken to me lately you will not know that I have recently started hating my poetry. So in Gemini-stupid-idiot-esque-style I wrote a poem/piece of writing about it.
What I want to do
What if I can’t do what I want to do because I don’t do what I want to do because I can’t?
If I stop doing what I want to do because I don’t think I want to do what I thought I wanted to do.
If I stop wanting to do what I wanted to do because I don’t think I can do what I wanted to do.
If I stop wanting to want to do what I wanted to do because I wanted to do what I couldn’t do.
If I stop wanting to do what I couldn’t do because I want to something that I can.
If I stop wanting to do what I can do because I wanted to do something that I can’t.
If I stop wanting to do what I can’t do because there isn’t something that I can.
If I stop wanting to do what I can do because there isn’t something that I can’t do apart from doing what I can do.
If I stop wanting.
If I stop doing.
If I stop.
What if I can’t do what I want to do because I do what I want to do but not what I can?
What I want to do
Yes, it is jibberish. But it makes a point: I can't write poetry.
I'm so tired, this coffee better kick in soon.
List of things to do today:
1. Post my old aeroplane ticket to webjet so I can get new aeroplane ticket before the end of the day, or I won't be able to go to China.
2. Re-write an assignment that is due today at 12:15.
3. Facilitate a group discussion on Communication and Information Environments.
4. Write a report about television and what my group said about television.
5. Return library books
6. Print assignment at the library
7. Go to my doctors appointment
8. Quit University and start training to become an air hostess
9. Research police woman training
10. Get another coffee.
And all before 4:00 today.
I'm stressed. But its all my fault. So I'll deal with it.
P.S I love JAG.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Idiotic Irony
Isn't it slightly ironic that when I had nothing to do in the holidays I couldn't bring myself to sit down and write on my ugly blog, yet now I have billions to do I have all the time in the world for my beautiful blog?
I guess that is because right now the alternative is reading my Rethinking Culture
chapters on Semiotics. If this concept is unfamiliar to you, I will give you an extract from the reader to make you understand more clearly:
A sign whose signified is another sign is a sign 'about' another sign: that is, a metalingual sign. Most of the sentences in this book, for example, are metalingual. This sentence is metalingual.
This sentence is stupid. That seriously was, word for word, meant to be an explanation, backed up with a fully comprehensive example.
Honestly, if they want us to read a whole book like that in two weeks they need to supply anaesthetics - not to put us to sleep, because the book takes care of that by itself - for the pain.
I suppose while I am already procrastinating I should tell you about my new job. I recently got an internship with a record company that does radio, telephone and television advertising as well as being a record label for upcoming artists. Yesterday was my first day, so my boss started me off with something easy - audio broadcasting. It's pretty fun, when you get into it, but after heaps of rejections and a few maybes, you feel sort of hopeless. I got to listen to the jingles that they'd already made and they will be forever stuck in my head. I also helped with the new Trinity jingle, which if I ever hear again I will collapse into a psychadelic fit.
Right, gotta go avoid reading.
Love Gemini
xoxo
I guess that is because right now the alternative is reading my Rethinking Culture
chapters on Semiotics. If this concept is unfamiliar to you, I will give you an extract from the reader to make you understand more clearly:
A sign whose signified is another sign is a sign 'about' another sign: that is, a metalingual sign. Most of the sentences in this book, for example, are metalingual. This sentence is metalingual.
This sentence is stupid. That seriously was, word for word, meant to be an explanation, backed up with a fully comprehensive example.
Honestly, if they want us to read a whole book like that in two weeks they need to supply anaesthetics - not to put us to sleep, because the book takes care of that by itself - for the pain.
I suppose while I am already procrastinating I should tell you about my new job. I recently got an internship with a record company that does radio, telephone and television advertising as well as being a record label for upcoming artists. Yesterday was my first day, so my boss started me off with something easy - audio broadcasting. It's pretty fun, when you get into it, but after heaps of rejections and a few maybes, you feel sort of hopeless. I got to listen to the jingles that they'd already made and they will be forever stuck in my head. I also helped with the new Trinity jingle, which if I ever hear again I will collapse into a psychadelic fit.
Right, gotta go avoid reading.
Love Gemini
xoxo
Saturday, March 8, 2008
It's raining rain...hallelujah
Hallelujah indeed, for if it was raining men it would be a dark day. There are so many men in Sydney. Obviously there are men everywhere, but for some reason I have never seen so many men in one place as I have in this saucy city. There are five categories of men that I have encountered in my weeks here. (I apologize for committing a moral and social crime - putting people into boxes - yet from my experience boxes can quite comfortable and the person always does more damage to the box than the box does to the person.)
1. The nice friend guy.
- Buys you dinner.
- Gives you hugs when they see you
- Laughs at you
2. The sleazy guy.
- Follows you from central station all the way down Broadway.
- Gives you drunken serendipities.
- Should be back at home sleeping it off
3. The good looking guy.
- You see them once only
- Gives you a look over your head and doesn’t realize you exist in a physical state
- Disappears into fairy land
4. The nice adult guy.
- Knows how the real world works
- Gives you a job because they like your phone voice
- Is married because they aren’t a complete sleaze
5. The stalker guy.
- Closely related to the sleazy guy but is more complicated
- Gives you abuse for no real reason
- Seems nice at first but then shows his two year old mentality
So that’s it for the men. What a nice way to avoid doing work! I’m meant to be knocking over the peak of the mountain of reading I have at the moment. Yet you would be surprised the things I am prepared to do in favour of studying.
Goodbye yellow brick road,
Gemini xo
1. The nice friend guy.
- Buys you dinner.
- Gives you hugs when they see you
- Laughs at you
2. The sleazy guy.
- Follows you from central station all the way down Broadway.
- Gives you drunken serendipities.
- Should be back at home sleeping it off
3. The good looking guy.
- You see them once only
- Gives you a look over your head and doesn’t realize you exist in a physical state
- Disappears into fairy land
4. The nice adult guy.
- Knows how the real world works
- Gives you a job because they like your phone voice
- Is married because they aren’t a complete sleaze
5. The stalker guy.
- Closely related to the sleazy guy but is more complicated
- Gives you abuse for no real reason
- Seems nice at first but then shows his two year old mentality
So that’s it for the men. What a nice way to avoid doing work! I’m meant to be knocking over the peak of the mountain of reading I have at the moment. Yet you would be surprised the things I am prepared to do in favour of studying.
Goodbye yellow brick road,
Gemini xo
Friday, February 29, 2008
Adamant Angst - revised edtion
Is it my mindset
My lack of control
The way I live
Life in my soul
Deep and hidden
But mostly exposed
Memories ridden
Can’t be composed
Without sedatives
My lovers, I’m
Too competitive
Too eager to be on top
That when I’m low
I cannot escape
I cannot just go
Somewhere easier, no
I have to wallow
In self condolence
Self assurance
Self pity
Whilst I hit head first
In frustration
At this negativity
Surging from my veins
I deserve it
I deserve to feel pain
Is this exasperating
Irritating
Infuriating?
Vexing
Irksome
This galling person
Wasting her life away
Grating her life
Into small, thin pieces,
Transparent and trying?
Do you just want
To stand up, scream
Because she won’t listen
She won’t give up
This trivial pursuit
Of spiraling quail
Just cowers over happiness
And showers in misery
Habitual chronic behavior
And here’s my apology
It’s not your liability
You’ve been good
You understood
When the rules of life
Were being read out
You took notes
Whilst they breathed
Down our throats
I praise you for your
sufficiency your
Excellency
I glorify you for your
Potency
Dexterity
Don’t mind me
And my envy
So come on then
Arbitrate
Adjudicate
Referee
Intercede
But it’s not your post
So just know
I love you
Wish I could hold you
But I’ve already told you
To stay back
To let me
Deteriorate
Disintegrate
Is it too late
To acquiesce your submission?
How did you escape
Adolescent bars
Men from mars
And arrive in top condition?
How do you manage
To ameliorate
Any stone that is thrown
Into your face
I’ll skewer this ambiance
Someone please will you
Call an ambulance
She’s insane
Something’s wrong with
Her adolescent brain
There is sense
Jolt!
Bolt
From the blue!
And it’s all thanks to you
My Adamant Angst
Subsides to glue.
My lack of control
The way I live
Life in my soul
Deep and hidden
But mostly exposed
Memories ridden
Can’t be composed
Without sedatives
My lovers, I’m
Too competitive
Too eager to be on top
That when I’m low
I cannot escape
I cannot just go
Somewhere easier, no
I have to wallow
In self condolence
Self assurance
Self pity
Whilst I hit head first
In frustration
At this negativity
Surging from my veins
I deserve it
I deserve to feel pain
Is this exasperating
Irritating
Infuriating?
Vexing
Irksome
This galling person
Wasting her life away
Grating her life
Into small, thin pieces,
Transparent and trying?
Do you just want
To stand up, scream
Because she won’t listen
She won’t give up
This trivial pursuit
Of spiraling quail
Just cowers over happiness
And showers in misery
Habitual chronic behavior
And here’s my apology
It’s not your liability
You’ve been good
You understood
When the rules of life
Were being read out
You took notes
Whilst they breathed
Down our throats
I praise you for your
sufficiency your
Excellency
I glorify you for your
Potency
Dexterity
Don’t mind me
And my envy
So come on then
Arbitrate
Adjudicate
Referee
Intercede
But it’s not your post
So just know
I love you
Wish I could hold you
But I’ve already told you
To stay back
To let me
Deteriorate
Disintegrate
Is it too late
To acquiesce your submission?
How did you escape
Adolescent bars
Men from mars
And arrive in top condition?
How do you manage
To ameliorate
Any stone that is thrown
Into your face
I’ll skewer this ambiance
Someone please will you
Call an ambulance
She’s insane
Something’s wrong with
Her adolescent brain
There is sense
Jolt!
Bolt
From the blue!
And it’s all thanks to you
My Adamant Angst
Subsides to glue.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Sydney is Seriously Saucy: Part Two
AH HAH. At last she gets herself together and writes the long anticipated second part. Uni. Right, well if you have talked to me recently then no doubt you have heard the entire sob story about my scary stalker. I would like to announce to him, as he very much could be reading this (though he would most likely be far too stupid to know what a blog is) that he should be kicked out of the building, now. Seriously though, what really happened was I rejected him and then he sent me these really horrible text messages and now I see him everywhere. There was a really strange call yesterday on my phone from a private number and it told me to go to the housing service to check up on some details so off I went and there he was. Suddenly the poor housing service had to be deprived of my details.
Anyway, last night I went to the Mardi Gras party for the resident students, ignored my stalker and bailed early to go to a broadway jazz dance lesson. One word: hot. Sydney really is seriously saucy.
I'm going to skim past all the O week stuff as quickly as I can. Please fasten your seat belts and put on your safety helmets with torches on the top.
Being late. First lesson I learnt at uni was, in my own mother's words: "the sign of a true uni student is that they can wake up after class starts and still get there on time!" First day of orientation and I was running an hour late but I still managed to arrive just as it was starting. You do the maths.
Plagiarism. If I have to hear that stupid word ever again... I swear it's the only word they know, you know them, the people that stand up and use plagiarised cliches to tell you not plagiarise.
Fluro name tags. We were all plastered with stickers with our name on them, colour coded for our different faculties. This was cleverly done as we were all gawking at each other's chests with such eloquence. During the morning tea break there was alot of awkward standing around looking for people with the same colour name tag as you. I found this process incredibly amusing, there were some girls in particular who looked so self conscious I thought they'd melt into a puddle. The boys were mostly in big awkward groups in which they'd all be looking over their shoulers, hand in their pockets and trying to appear like they have something better to do that they are currently not doing.
Joining clubs. On the Wednesday - the big O Day - which for some reason always reminds me of a donut, we were all salvaged on our paths to destruction by many stalls of people trying to get us to join their loving clubs. My favourites were: the pamphlet club, the australasian chinese european christian club, the young socialists (as they had a disagreement with one of my friends, true humour never fades) and the chocolate appreciation club.
Sore heads. Right, orientation at uni is quite often associated with getting smashed in order to get to know the other students. Trivia night was awesome, we came third, as half our team were sober. The "Historic and Cultural tour of the rocks" i.e the Pub Crawl was pretty good too. Then on friday night an 18th birthday party in which the host was so incredibly friendly he would get the girls to sit on his lap in order to ensure their comfort.
That's it. Glad that's over, it was starting to sound a bit aggressive.
First week of classes: My classes are awesome, 12 hours of class a week and a great timetable mostly of afternoon classes.
One more thing before I dissapear into the black abyss:
My flat mate is really nice, she is in her second year so she knows all the ropes and is very friendly.
Now I will leave you to ponder the answer to life, the universe and everything.
xoxo
Anyway, last night I went to the Mardi Gras party for the resident students, ignored my stalker and bailed early to go to a broadway jazz dance lesson. One word: hot. Sydney really is seriously saucy.
I'm going to skim past all the O week stuff as quickly as I can. Please fasten your seat belts and put on your safety helmets with torches on the top.
Being late. First lesson I learnt at uni was, in my own mother's words: "the sign of a true uni student is that they can wake up after class starts and still get there on time!" First day of orientation and I was running an hour late but I still managed to arrive just as it was starting. You do the maths.
Plagiarism. If I have to hear that stupid word ever again... I swear it's the only word they know, you know them, the people that stand up and use plagiarised cliches to tell you not plagiarise.
Fluro name tags. We were all plastered with stickers with our name on them, colour coded for our different faculties. This was cleverly done as we were all gawking at each other's chests with such eloquence. During the morning tea break there was alot of awkward standing around looking for people with the same colour name tag as you. I found this process incredibly amusing, there were some girls in particular who looked so self conscious I thought they'd melt into a puddle. The boys were mostly in big awkward groups in which they'd all be looking over their shoulers, hand in their pockets and trying to appear like they have something better to do that they are currently not doing.
Joining clubs. On the Wednesday - the big O Day - which for some reason always reminds me of a donut, we were all salvaged on our paths to destruction by many stalls of people trying to get us to join their loving clubs. My favourites were: the pamphlet club, the australasian chinese european christian club, the young socialists (as they had a disagreement with one of my friends, true humour never fades) and the chocolate appreciation club.
Sore heads. Right, orientation at uni is quite often associated with getting smashed in order to get to know the other students. Trivia night was awesome, we came third, as half our team were sober. The "Historic and Cultural tour of the rocks" i.e the Pub Crawl was pretty good too. Then on friday night an 18th birthday party in which the host was so incredibly friendly he would get the girls to sit on his lap in order to ensure their comfort.
That's it. Glad that's over, it was starting to sound a bit aggressive.
First week of classes: My classes are awesome, 12 hours of class a week and a great timetable mostly of afternoon classes.
One more thing before I dissapear into the black abyss:
My flat mate is really nice, she is in her second year so she knows all the ropes and is very friendly.
Now I will leave you to ponder the answer to life, the universe and everything.
xoxo
Friday, February 15, 2008
Sydney is Seriously Saucy (part one)
YESTERDAY mother bear and I rose from our sleeping places at 5:15AM in order to arrive in Sydney by 10:00AM, only to find that unlike the small, modest city where we started our epic journey, Sydney had streets. (Exaggeration is an art form, and I can't draw or paint so I exaggerate to compensate. I don't know if you noticed, but in that sentence I managed to simultaneously exaggerate and understate. This is a proud moment). Mum and I had absolutely no idea where the building that I needed to go to was, so we asked a cab driver and he, feeling particularly charitable and reckless with his time and money, took us there by getting us to drive behind his car. We followed him and he accepted my offer of marriage when we arrived just on time. I went into the building and found another girl who looked as lost as I did. We worked out that we were both there for the same reason so we went up in the lift together. It only took a few minutes for us to realise we were on the right floor to begin with so off we trotted back down and became official uni students, standing in cues, filling out forms and choosing subjects. I also met another girl who is doing the same course as me and we went through the online enrolment and timetable thing together, which I'm telling you, is a real bonding experience. Not only was it completely and utterly baffling, it was also completely and utterly straight forward, so we laughed and cried and became life long buddies. I can almost remember her name, so that's a start. That sounded horrible, but anyone that knows me will know I am terrible at names, unless someone is called Bob. I am really good at Bobs.
TOMORROW ON SYDNEY IS SERIOUSLY SAUCY: I MEET MY ROOM MATE AND NEW ABODE. STAY TUNED.
TOMORROW ON SYDNEY IS SERIOUSLY SAUCY: I MEET MY ROOM MATE AND NEW ABODE. STAY TUNED.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Frozen Peas - the saviour of the world
YESTERDAY was a bad day. I'm not talking anything serious, or even remotely worth sympathy. Yet it is enough for me to whinge about for a bit on my beloved, deprived blog.
Firstly, I woke up and immediately had an argument with my mother, which is incredibly unusual as the only thing that has ever annoyed me about the woman that gave me life is that she has better legs than I do. Now I should have taken the argument as a sign. I should have retired at that very moment and returned to bed for another 24 hours of sleep. Yet I have never been known for my common sense, and I have slightly insomniac tendencies.
I will now attempt to describe the most dramatic point of the day, yet please take note of two things before I go on:
1. If the image I describe to you below makes you snigger, laugh or giggle, please resist to tell me about this.
2. I am using my blogging rights to change a few details in the true story below in order to protect the strands of dignity that I may have.
Are we clear? Good. Let us proceed.
At around 10:30AM I was putting up an extremely heavy plank of wood attached to two and a half metre long venetian blinds whilst standing on a ladder on the highest step. I had managed to set the wood into place and pulled the string on the curtains to make sure it would stay up. It didn't. The plank of wood hit me directly on the top of my head, hitting my metal headband, digging into my skull. The shock pushed me back, and I fell off the ladder onto the ceramic tiling of our loungeroom floor.
I started crying, as I realised that I had previously turned back the offer for carpeting our floor and for some reason not known to any humans or aliens in this universe, I climbed back onto the ladder in extreme pain, and tried to put the beam back. Yet as tears were in my eyes at that moment, and as mentioned I lack all aspects of common sense, I stood up on the ladder and banged my head on the roof on the same place as the beam had fallen. My headband, feeling that its job had been gloriously fulfilled, i.e, injuring me with such success, snapped in half and fell to the floor. Thankfully I had enough brain cells left to allow me to climb down the ladder and stumble to the phone to ring my mother, as I was alone in the house at the time.
Mum, still angry at me for our argument, didn't want to talk to me so she angrily said she'd ring me back later. However, after hearing my shameful sobs on the other end of the line started worrying and raised her voice to ask what was wrong.
Next thing I know, I was cleaning windows with a packet of frozen peas on my head. Mum was getting increasingly concerned after hearing the whole story and coming back an hour after the fall to see me cleaning windows, so she asked me who the prime minister of Australia is. "Mum, I'm not concussed. It is John Howard." Concerned swear words followed as Mum prayed that Kevin Rudd hadn't really won the election.
Next thing I know, Mum was holding my hands against her cheeks freaking out because they were freezing cold, even though it was 28 degrees outside.
Throughout the rest of the day Mum kept asking how my extremities were, and I kept asking what my extremeties are.
At around 5:30PM I was feeling better, just couldn't really smile or frown because the bruise on my head would hurt. Taking the foccacia out of the oven that Mum had previously neglected in favour of watering the lettuce world in our garden, the index finger of my right hand hit the side of the 210 degree oven and suddenly my finger turned bright red. Judging from the scream that ensued, my poor Mother and her nerves raced inside and dumped my hand into a holy ice bucket. I assure you, with complete and utter confidence in the facts, that the frozen peas felt worthless.
Yet please do not worry my fellow bloggers, as from my experience, a bad day is always followed by an extremely good day.
TODAY is as such, a good day, and the only traces of yesterday left on me are this post, a small burn blister on the tip of my finger, and a rather large bump on the top of my head underneath my blessed hair.
If you have successfully made it to this point of the post I congradulate you and applaud you for your resilience, yet reprimand you for your apparent lack of self-discipline in stopping yourself whilst you were safely in the first sentence.
xoxo
Firstly, I woke up and immediately had an argument with my mother, which is incredibly unusual as the only thing that has ever annoyed me about the woman that gave me life is that she has better legs than I do. Now I should have taken the argument as a sign. I should have retired at that very moment and returned to bed for another 24 hours of sleep. Yet I have never been known for my common sense, and I have slightly insomniac tendencies.
I will now attempt to describe the most dramatic point of the day, yet please take note of two things before I go on:
1. If the image I describe to you below makes you snigger, laugh or giggle, please resist to tell me about this.
2. I am using my blogging rights to change a few details in the true story below in order to protect the strands of dignity that I may have.
Are we clear? Good. Let us proceed.
At around 10:30AM I was putting up an extremely heavy plank of wood attached to two and a half metre long venetian blinds whilst standing on a ladder on the highest step. I had managed to set the wood into place and pulled the string on the curtains to make sure it would stay up. It didn't. The plank of wood hit me directly on the top of my head, hitting my metal headband, digging into my skull. The shock pushed me back, and I fell off the ladder onto the ceramic tiling of our loungeroom floor.
I started crying, as I realised that I had previously turned back the offer for carpeting our floor and for some reason not known to any humans or aliens in this universe, I climbed back onto the ladder in extreme pain, and tried to put the beam back. Yet as tears were in my eyes at that moment, and as mentioned I lack all aspects of common sense, I stood up on the ladder and banged my head on the roof on the same place as the beam had fallen. My headband, feeling that its job had been gloriously fulfilled, i.e, injuring me with such success, snapped in half and fell to the floor. Thankfully I had enough brain cells left to allow me to climb down the ladder and stumble to the phone to ring my mother, as I was alone in the house at the time.
Mum, still angry at me for our argument, didn't want to talk to me so she angrily said she'd ring me back later. However, after hearing my shameful sobs on the other end of the line started worrying and raised her voice to ask what was wrong.
Next thing I know, I was cleaning windows with a packet of frozen peas on my head. Mum was getting increasingly concerned after hearing the whole story and coming back an hour after the fall to see me cleaning windows, so she asked me who the prime minister of Australia is. "Mum, I'm not concussed. It is John Howard." Concerned swear words followed as Mum prayed that Kevin Rudd hadn't really won the election.
Next thing I know, Mum was holding my hands against her cheeks freaking out because they were freezing cold, even though it was 28 degrees outside.
Throughout the rest of the day Mum kept asking how my extremities were, and I kept asking what my extremeties are.
At around 5:30PM I was feeling better, just couldn't really smile or frown because the bruise on my head would hurt. Taking the foccacia out of the oven that Mum had previously neglected in favour of watering the lettuce world in our garden, the index finger of my right hand hit the side of the 210 degree oven and suddenly my finger turned bright red. Judging from the scream that ensued, my poor Mother and her nerves raced inside and dumped my hand into a holy ice bucket. I assure you, with complete and utter confidence in the facts, that the frozen peas felt worthless.
Yet please do not worry my fellow bloggers, as from my experience, a bad day is always followed by an extremely good day.
TODAY is as such, a good day, and the only traces of yesterday left on me are this post, a small burn blister on the tip of my finger, and a rather large bump on the top of my head underneath my blessed hair.
If you have successfully made it to this point of the post I congradulate you and applaud you for your resilience, yet reprimand you for your apparent lack of self-discipline in stopping yourself whilst you were safely in the first sentence.
xoxo
Returning to power
Yes, have no fear, I am back. I have returned to my blogging throne after temporarily renouncing my title. The reason for this dramatic comeback? Well I am doing a communications and writing course at Uni, so I thought that if I couldn't sit down and right a gut wrenching post on my blog then...you fill in the gaps. See, what a great writer I am, one that doesn't finish the sentence. I will supress my sarcasm and explore the notion that perhaps it would be good to read a book that doesn't dissapoint you at the end, because there isn't an ending.
Lisa ran into Mark's arms sobbing wildly. Mark stepped back and gently pushed her away, realising there were only two words that could make Lisa understand why they couldn't be together.
NOTE FROM AUTHOR: make up the ending yourself.
I should really submit that to Mills and Boon.
Side note: morning TV is seriously going down hill.
Ciao,
Gemini
xoxo
Lisa ran into Mark's arms sobbing wildly. Mark stepped back and gently pushed her away, realising there were only two words that could make Lisa understand why they couldn't be together.
NOTE FROM AUTHOR: make up the ending yourself.
I should really submit that to Mills and Boon.
Side note: morning TV is seriously going down hill.
Ciao,
Gemini
xoxo
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Bed ridden
Ah, here is a nice bloggish topic!
I have been really sick for the past two weeks, at first I thought it was a cold, but alas, the stars had a different idea. Mum has been going on about the moon, because it's small or something, so things have been going wrong. I just nod my head, smile, and bite my tongue to avoid laughing. Here I am, bed ridden and sick as a dog, though I never really have understood that expression. I haven't met that many sick dogs. I guess I sound like a dog, with all this coughing, is that what it means? Or is there some international sick dog convention I don't know about? If so, that is terrible, and the RSPCA should really get onto it. This is awful, I sincerely apologize and I will casually move on to a different train of thought. Where I live, there isn't much help, in the way of medical-ness, but we do have a helipad, which my grandparents organised so their old pilot friends could come over for a shin-dig. I really hope it doesn't come to being airlifted out, because although I'd appreciate the drama of it all, being a dramatic soul, I think it would be a little overkill. Mum is getting increasingly concerned though, as demonstrated by her forcing a pill down my throat this morning at 7:05 AM.
She also wants to take me to the hospital tonight. Ah, the hospital, to save myself the indignity, I won't mention the town I live in, but the hospital there is like all hospitals, awful. Firstly, you pretty much know everyone there, so you have to sit in the waiting room answering everyone's questions about your aunt, and your garden, and rainfall, and weeds. Everyone avoids the fact that they are in the accident and emergency waiting room so they don't ask why you are there, humourously dodging the question. Then you have to wait for 5 hours until you get seen by a doctor, by which time you are so sick from being around so many sick people that you have forgotten why you went to the hospital in the first place. As you can tell, I have been to this hospital many times, I could show the most comfortable waiting seat, the cleanest leaning corner, the most enjoyable toy to play with, the least torn magazine to read. My Dad used to work there, and in addition, from my Judo days, I broke every bone in my arm and my legs at one point or another.
The thing is, I want to stay home tonight, a much as I adore that waiting room, the UAC offers come out, and if I don't get into UTS like I really really really want to, I think I'll need to organise an emergency evacuation plan, because I'll be stuck in this town!
Right, well that's enough for now. I love all three of my lovely readers, so here's to you Mrs Robinson.
xoxo
I have been really sick for the past two weeks, at first I thought it was a cold, but alas, the stars had a different idea. Mum has been going on about the moon, because it's small or something, so things have been going wrong. I just nod my head, smile, and bite my tongue to avoid laughing. Here I am, bed ridden and sick as a dog, though I never really have understood that expression. I haven't met that many sick dogs. I guess I sound like a dog, with all this coughing, is that what it means? Or is there some international sick dog convention I don't know about? If so, that is terrible, and the RSPCA should really get onto it. This is awful, I sincerely apologize and I will casually move on to a different train of thought. Where I live, there isn't much help, in the way of medical-ness, but we do have a helipad, which my grandparents organised so their old pilot friends could come over for a shin-dig. I really hope it doesn't come to being airlifted out, because although I'd appreciate the drama of it all, being a dramatic soul, I think it would be a little overkill. Mum is getting increasingly concerned though, as demonstrated by her forcing a pill down my throat this morning at 7:05 AM.
She also wants to take me to the hospital tonight. Ah, the hospital, to save myself the indignity, I won't mention the town I live in, but the hospital there is like all hospitals, awful. Firstly, you pretty much know everyone there, so you have to sit in the waiting room answering everyone's questions about your aunt, and your garden, and rainfall, and weeds. Everyone avoids the fact that they are in the accident and emergency waiting room so they don't ask why you are there, humourously dodging the question. Then you have to wait for 5 hours until you get seen by a doctor, by which time you are so sick from being around so many sick people that you have forgotten why you went to the hospital in the first place. As you can tell, I have been to this hospital many times, I could show the most comfortable waiting seat, the cleanest leaning corner, the most enjoyable toy to play with, the least torn magazine to read. My Dad used to work there, and in addition, from my Judo days, I broke every bone in my arm and my legs at one point or another.
The thing is, I want to stay home tonight, a much as I adore that waiting room, the UAC offers come out, and if I don't get into UTS like I really really really want to, I think I'll need to organise an emergency evacuation plan, because I'll be stuck in this town!
Right, well that's enough for now. I love all three of my lovely readers, so here's to you Mrs Robinson.
xoxo
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
I am a virgin to blogging
Blogging kind of scares me. I'm not really sure where to start, so I'll put the beginning of a story I wrote on here.
It never really was like that. I never sat down and said to myself, "Right, this is what I'm going to do." I never thought at all. It all happened so quickly, before I knew it I was there. Words are funny things. I use to stare at them and divide a word into two parts. If there was an odd number of letters I'd keep trying until I could cut the word in two. I could control the word and the letters that it consisted of. I can control you too, I bet that I can, as easily as I can control words. I'm not crazy, I'm scared. I don't do that with the words anymore. I'm scared that the next word will be impossible to split, that no matter how hard I try the word will stay as one entity, determined to regain control over me.
If you were to ask me how it began, I wouldn't know where the starting point was. How far back would I need to go?
When I was fourteen the light was a different colour. A blue-ish green perhaps, mysterious, fresh and untouched. I remember stepping outside into the wind, seeing the others walking as one, their footsteps together making one beat. Suddenly I would become conscious of every movement my body was making. My neck. My feet. My head. My hands, where were they? You see, at fourteen, little existed apart from my own world in which I was only just starting to understand. There I was, walking as normally as I could while I was conscious that my hands were swinging cutting through the air on each side of my body, when I was interrupted.
If you were to ask me how it began, I wouldn't know where the starting point was. How far back would I need to go?
When I was fourteen the light was a different colour. A blue-ish green perhaps, mysterious, fresh and untouched. I remember stepping outside into the wind, seeing the others walking as one, their footsteps together making one beat. Suddenly I would become conscious of every movement my body was making. My neck. My feet. My head. My hands, where were they? You see, at fourteen, little existed apart from my own world in which I was only just starting to understand. There I was, walking as normally as I could while I was conscious that my hands were swinging cutting through the air on each side of my body, when I was interrupted.
Well that's it for my first post!! Psych!
xo
P.S The photo is one I took in Queensland. It has nothing to do with this post. See? I'm new to this!
P.S The photo is one I took in Queensland. It has nothing to do with this post. See? I'm new to this!
Interrogation
Now school is over I have time for the more important things, the things that really matter.
Such as interrogatingly stupid questionares.
TELL US ABOUT YOU
*Number of candles that appeared on your last birthday cake*: What a sneaky way to find out someone’s age!
*Date that you regularly blow them out (birthday):* March the 5th July the 2nd and September 10th. Third time lucky, so if I do it three times I might actually blow them all out.
*Pets*: Never had one, except when I was four I had a goldfish called Otto
*Height*: The same height as an elephant lying sideways. Same weight too.
*Eye color*: I’m blue ab a dee ab a di
*Hair Color*: Depends which day it is.
*Piercing*: Ears, I felt so grown up when I had them done. Last year.
HAVE YOU EVER...?
*Had the drink Calypso Breeze*? Is that a liquid detergent?
*Been in love*? Is that a sitcom?
*Been toilet-papering*? Okay, I dread to think what that is.
*Loved somebody so much it makes you cry*? Bob the builder has that effect on me.
THE FUTURE:
*School*: Non- existent
*Where You Want To Live*: Egypt
*How Many Kids You Want*: 8
*girl names*: Sharlene, Darlene, Marlene and Carlene.
*boy names*: Shane, Dane, Mane and Cane.
*What Kind Of Job You Want*: Marshmellow factory product tester
*You Want To Get Married*: Nah, I’d rather be a hermit on mount buffalo.
WHICH ONE?
*Croutons or Bacon Bits*: Ewww they both sound gross when they are in writing like that
*2 doors or 4 (on a car)*: 4
*Mr. Pibb or Dr. Pepper*: Who is Mr Pibb? Neither, I don’t trust either of these men.
*Coffee or Ice-cream*: ICE- CREAM.
*Shampoo or Conditioner*: Conditioner
*Bridges or Tunnels*: Bridges
*One pillow or two*: Two, one is for sleeping one the other is for protecting yourself against intruders
*Adidas or Nike*: Nike
*Nike or Reebok*: There’s a difference?
*Adidas or Reebok*: AAH I have no idea
WORD ASSOCIATION (FIRST THING THAT COMES TO MIND)
*Rock*: Baby
*Green*: Soup*
Wet*: Sky
*Cry*: Lint
*Peanut Butter*: Dead. Yes I know my mind is strange.
FAVORITES:
*Salad Dressing*: None
*Color of socks*: LOL! Sorry but seriously WHO CARES what colour socks they wear?*Memory*: When I bunjee jumped off a bridge in Cairns because my grandpa said he’d teach me how to make fudge if I did it.
*toothpaste*: Colgate for kids
*Food*: Marshmellows
*Song at the moment*: Crazy by Gnarles Barkley
*TV show*: That’s so Raven
*Toothbrush*: WHAT
*Subject in School*: Lunch
*Flower*: Rose
*Color*: Purple
*Sport to Watch*: Boxing
*Country Song*: Life is a boot by random non existent country singer
*Sesame Street Character*: Elmo should be shot. Zoe.
*Disney Character*: The Beast in Beauty in the beast
*Warner Brothers*: Je ne sais pas.
RANDOM QUESTIONS
*When was your last hospital check in*: Yesterday, I checked out. Arm in a sling, typing with one hand.
*Do You Drink*: Yes, I quite like lemonade and creaming soda. How come the question Do you drink? rules out other liquid substances that people pour down their throats?
*Where do you see your self in 10 years?*: In a pub in Ireland
*Have you ever been convicted of a crime*? No, and I can’t be bothered writing a sarcastic comment about that one either
*Which single store would you choose to max your credit card*? Woolworths
*What type of car you drive now*? Dad’s world war two fire truck
*What do you do most often when you are bored*? This thing which is making me more bored
*Are You In A Gang Or Club*: Gang – it’s called the white shirts gang and we constantly have water fights
*Motorcycles*: yes???
*What Is Your Favorite Kind Of Clothes*: The covering kind. I like Mum’s clothes, they are a lot skimpier than mine
*Are You Close Minded*: HAHAHAH is that even a word? It certainly isn’t the opposite of open minded
*Are You Open Minded*: Not really
*Are You A Player*: of the piano, yes
*Can u be in love w/2 people at the same time*? Nah, too confusing
*Bedtime*: define please?
*Humiliating Moment*: Oh way too many
Ya that was really not fun. I'm watching Maid in Manhattan with Jennifer Lopez - great chick flick. I have no idea how to do this blogging thing!!
Such as interrogatingly stupid questionares.
TELL US ABOUT YOU
*Number of candles that appeared on your last birthday cake*: What a sneaky way to find out someone’s age!
*Date that you regularly blow them out (birthday):* March the 5th July the 2nd and September 10th. Third time lucky, so if I do it three times I might actually blow them all out.
*Pets*: Never had one, except when I was four I had a goldfish called Otto
*Height*: The same height as an elephant lying sideways. Same weight too.
*Eye color*: I’m blue ab a dee ab a di
*Hair Color*: Depends which day it is.
*Piercing*: Ears, I felt so grown up when I had them done. Last year.
HAVE YOU EVER...?
*Had the drink Calypso Breeze*? Is that a liquid detergent?
*Been in love*? Is that a sitcom?
*Been toilet-papering*? Okay, I dread to think what that is.
*Loved somebody so much it makes you cry*? Bob the builder has that effect on me.
THE FUTURE:
*School*: Non- existent
*Where You Want To Live*: Egypt
*How Many Kids You Want*: 8
*girl names*: Sharlene, Darlene, Marlene and Carlene.
*boy names*: Shane, Dane, Mane and Cane.
*What Kind Of Job You Want*: Marshmellow factory product tester
*You Want To Get Married*: Nah, I’d rather be a hermit on mount buffalo.
WHICH ONE?
*Croutons or Bacon Bits*: Ewww they both sound gross when they are in writing like that
*2 doors or 4 (on a car)*: 4
*Mr. Pibb or Dr. Pepper*: Who is Mr Pibb? Neither, I don’t trust either of these men.
*Coffee or Ice-cream*: ICE- CREAM.
*Shampoo or Conditioner*: Conditioner
*Bridges or Tunnels*: Bridges
*One pillow or two*: Two, one is for sleeping one the other is for protecting yourself against intruders
*Adidas or Nike*: Nike
*Nike or Reebok*: There’s a difference?
*Adidas or Reebok*: AAH I have no idea
WORD ASSOCIATION (FIRST THING THAT COMES TO MIND)
*Rock*: Baby
*Green*: Soup*
Wet*: Sky
*Cry*: Lint
*Peanut Butter*: Dead. Yes I know my mind is strange.
FAVORITES:
*Salad Dressing*: None
*Color of socks*: LOL! Sorry but seriously WHO CARES what colour socks they wear?*Memory*: When I bunjee jumped off a bridge in Cairns because my grandpa said he’d teach me how to make fudge if I did it.
*toothpaste*: Colgate for kids
*Food*: Marshmellows
*Song at the moment*: Crazy by Gnarles Barkley
*TV show*: That’s so Raven
*Toothbrush*: WHAT
*Subject in School*: Lunch
*Flower*: Rose
*Color*: Purple
*Sport to Watch*: Boxing
*Country Song*: Life is a boot by random non existent country singer
*Sesame Street Character*: Elmo should be shot. Zoe.
*Disney Character*: The Beast in Beauty in the beast
*Warner Brothers*: Je ne sais pas.
RANDOM QUESTIONS
*When was your last hospital check in*: Yesterday, I checked out. Arm in a sling, typing with one hand.
*Do You Drink*: Yes, I quite like lemonade and creaming soda. How come the question Do you drink? rules out other liquid substances that people pour down their throats?
*Where do you see your self in 10 years?*: In a pub in Ireland
*Have you ever been convicted of a crime*? No, and I can’t be bothered writing a sarcastic comment about that one either
*Which single store would you choose to max your credit card*? Woolworths
*What type of car you drive now*? Dad’s world war two fire truck
*What do you do most often when you are bored*? This thing which is making me more bored
*Are You In A Gang Or Club*: Gang – it’s called the white shirts gang and we constantly have water fights
*Motorcycles*: yes???
*What Is Your Favorite Kind Of Clothes*: The covering kind. I like Mum’s clothes, they are a lot skimpier than mine
*Are You Close Minded*: HAHAHAH is that even a word? It certainly isn’t the opposite of open minded
*Are You Open Minded*: Not really
*Are You A Player*: of the piano, yes
*Can u be in love w/2 people at the same time*? Nah, too confusing
*Bedtime*: define please?
*Humiliating Moment*: Oh way too many
Ya that was really not fun. I'm watching Maid in Manhattan with Jennifer Lopez - great chick flick. I have no idea how to do this blogging thing!!
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