The poem below is one I wrote a while ago, I decided to post it on this blog to buy me some time and to explain the background of my blog name.
Motto of the day: don't do anything that I would do
xoxo

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.

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

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.

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

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