I had a dream...

yes, another wacked out dream. This one had an actual message in it, god knows what, but there you have it.

I am standing in a dark room, not dark as in a lack of light, but dark as in the decore, the feel of the air. At my feet, kneeling, is a girl weeping, with short ragged cut hair hanging down over her face, covering it. She is weeping, her shoulders shaking under the robe that once was white, but is more the interminable colour of dirt. I just stand there, looking down at the top of her head, and she whispers between sobs "if only you knew, knew what I know..."

A few moments of silence, and still she weeps, another soft whisper "What I know, I would not wish on you, but I must..." I'm just looking there, looking down at the girl at my feet as she sobs, not saying anything.

She looks up and I get a jolt, for she has no eyes, just ragged holes, black as night where her eyes were, gazing up at me and she says, ever so softly, still with crimson tears dripping down her cheeks "I would not wish your path on any, for I have walked it, and would not wish you to..." and there she stands, my height, I blink, another jolt, she is me, me a few years from now, but still me. I am not me but something slightly other, something else, but she embraces me, holds me gently, and then steps into me...and I know, know what made her weep. Know what made -me- weep.

I look in the mirror off to the side, and I am not me, but I am. I am me, but I am more...

You recall the dream where i was golden skinned with the red tinge? That is me, and the firey glowing orbs of my eyes hold too much knowing...and I know what made me weep, and know what happens in my life...


And then I wake up. Still knowing.

Not pleasant to say the least.

Nyeeeh....I've got serious issues here.

Okay, update. I'm really, really, -really- uneasy living at my mothers now. I mean, mother dearest and I are getting along great, it's wonderful, but there's a teeny, tiny catch.

See, she hasn't been keeping her bf handy, so he's decided to stop being 'hers' and is hunting for new territory. Guess who's in his sights? Aheh, yeah. Yours truely.

I mean, I like him and all, as a -friend- not as a potential lover or anything of that sort, I mean, COME ON, he's 32! Ugh. No. No. No. NO! Not going to happen, ever. Yet, with me being my normal, caring self, giving a hug when anyone needs one, he's set his sights on me and....eeh...yeah.

So now, I have to avoid him while seeming -not- to, and avoid my mother while being sociable and...ugh. *whimpers* I -really- want to move out now, I've got added incentive. A rather...highly powerful one at that.

New subject, although I'm still freaked. Note to self, do -not- volinteer to work 10.5 hours on a sunday, when sunday is the sole day when you are allowed on the net to talk to people. *sighs* Yeah, worked from 11.15am till 9.30pm because the MoD was short, called me at 10.15am (if I'd rushed I could have been there for 10.30 but it was 'when I could' not 'get here now' so nyah :P) so I got up, had a shower, ate, and clocked in at 11.15am. Half hour break, stressing over a friend of mine (he was very sick) and a 2000 word essay that's due next week that I was hoping to do the majority of this weekend. I got the intro, one para and maybe half of a second written before my brain said 'up yours!' and refused to give quality. So yeah.... my life is currently nuts and I am freaked and stressed and seriously unsure about how the devil I'm going to manage this, but manage I will ...

and flee, very very swiftly from under my mothers house.

It's not what you know, but who.

You know that saying? 'It's not what you know, but who' to get around in the world? Politics and the like?

Well, I've got the dubious pleasure of being able to claim such a thing. See, on wednesday night a cousin of mine had her birthday, so it was a family get together. Brilliant, I was related to all of three people there out of a 20 people dinner thing. My dad and my two cousins. The rest was on their mother's side and polish. So, me stuck up one end, those I knew down the other so I'm talking to my in-law grandparents, baba and chacha (or however you spell it) It wasn't too bad, and when they started talking in polish I could follow the odd word here or there. (never learnt the language in my life).

However, back to my Aunt. Or whatever, she's the mother of my cousin and she works at a university, Edith Cowan University for those that know of it, and she's rather friendly with the head of the psychology department. Now, we all know what -I- want to do don't we?

So basically, I can/may/will have a guranteed seat in ECU, in any of the psych courses I want to take regardless of my TER. Isn't it lovely to have a foot in the door?

Little people

Little people sneaking through corridors,
Hiding under cracks in floorboards.
Peeking ‘round corners for the ‘all clear’,
Listening with sympathy while we shed a tear.


Little people whispering out dreams
While we wonder what they mean.
They tell us our secret desire
As we stare blankly at the fire.


Sweeping up the dust we miss,
Giggling over a secret kiss,
Watching us as we sleep,
Speaking, without a peep.


Little people ev’rywhere,
Little people in out hair.
Deep inside
I think you’ll find,
Little people hiding.




*cringes* don't laugh at me, my very first attempt at poetry and it's very bad...I think the last stanza is the best but ..yeah. Ugh. Evil. Bad. Horrid. Never to see the light of day again. Ever.

Rage

Okay, now don’t get me wrong, I’m not an aggressive person, I don’t actively search out fights, but you all ought to know, that if you –want- a fight, it’s right here waiting for you. Consequently, last night when one of our last customers that came in, a drunk, or stoned, or high on something, or all of the above, ordered and decided to be bloody difficult about it, I was …less than pleased shall we say?

So her order, a fillet bacon and cheese burger combo, but she didn’t want the drink so she’d swapped it first up for a desert. That was all fine and dandy, I got her order but, lo and behold, the desert, fresh from the freezer, had ICE on it. So, after yelling at me and saying “this is from the fucking FREEZER, the ice is from the FREEZER?!” I honestly felt like saying ‘well duh, where else does ice come from?’ But, as a token to my self-control (or customer services) I didn’t. So, she changed the desert to potato and gravy.

Well, that was a fun exercise wasn’t it? I returned the desert to the freezer, got a small prep (what we call potato and gravy), a new spoon, and handed to her. But no, this wasn’t good enough was it? “This potato and gravy looks fucking DISGUSTING.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Aren’t you listening to me?! It’s FUCKING DISGUSTING.”

Charming lady, isn’t she? I apologised again and was about to say that the appearance had nothing to do with me, when she threw the prep at the counter, split the container and splattered me oh so nicely with potato and gravy.

It’s amazing at how fast your mind can work sometimes, isn’t it? As soon as that container hit the counter, I was ready to take the fight to her, first instinct- get over the counter and deck her, second instinct- Go through the door to get her since I probably wouldn’t get over the counter. First thought- The manager probably wouldn’t like it if I started a brawl in the shop, and she’s drunk, so it’s really a waste of my time. With a sigh I started cleaning up the potato and gravy as she started storming to the door.

To those of you that know this feeling, the adrenaline rush, for most, on the very edge of a fight? Those that –aren’t- trained, aren’t aggressive, this feeling will just dissipate once the threat has left, not so with me. I have to let it out somehow, and since she In order to give her enough time to be out of my sight –before- I got really riled, I cleaned the counter and then returned to sweeping the restaurant. Unfortunately, she didn’t return when I had the broom, but once I was nearly finished mopping, complaining that her meal had maggots in it.

All of us that knew of her first episode (the whole store) found reasons to be doing things near the front, the MoD spoke to her as she was yelling about her meal having maggots in it. Her burger had maggots in it and her chips tasted like they had maggots in them. Of course, there was the choice insult, and ‘fucking’ in with her speech, and if she had turned towards me and started abusing –me- for giving her a meal with ‘maggots’ in it, well….there wasn’t a counter in the way this time, now was there?

Unfortunately, the MoD (manager on duty) seemed to know that, and sent me out the back. *sulks* I cleaned the mop, emptied out the water, and she stormed off again, to get her meal that had ‘maggots’ in it. I’ve no idea how, since a) the chicken would have been cooked less than two hours prior, and b) we make everything fresh. So if them maggots had survived being cooked for at least 2.31 minutes (the time the chips take to cook) then we have a new breed of super-maggots. Flies the haunt your dreams because the suckers won’t die!

Ho hum, taking the chairs down, and that lovely customer of ours storms back, carrying a bag with what looks to be, the burger in it. Again the forced politeness “I’ve just ordered a fillet bacon and cheese burger combo, but I didn’t want the drink so I swapped it for potato and gravy, the potato and gravy looked so bad that I left it here-“

MoD: You threw it at my staff member.

Her: I handed the potato and gravy here because it looked so disgusting-

MoD: No, you threw the container at the counter and left a mess, some of which ended up on my staff member, that’s not handing it back.

Her: (she’s starting to yell now) I handed the potato and gravy back and I found that my MEAL had MAGGOTS in it. I want a refund. Are you going to give me a refund?

MoD: Can I see your meal?

Her: I want a fucking refund! Are you hearing me? My meal had fucking maggots in it!

MoD: May I just see the burger?

She hands over the back, the MoD opens it and inside is just the wrapper, she says as much.

Her: This is a very serious complaint! Are you going to give me a refund or not?

MoD: No I’m not, this is just the wrapper, there’s no burger in here or maggots.

Meanwhile, the MoD had pushed that handy little button under the counter and called for the police, got security, and while idiot was starting to insult her ‘I used to work at a place exactly like this and you’re a worthless piece of shit that will get nowhere, you’re just a piece of shit, do you hear me? A fucking useless piece of shit’

And then she seemed to have noticed the rest of us (although I was oh so casually leaning against the counter, just three steps and I would have been out the door and –then- she would have had something to complain about) and proceeded to insult –us- for working here ‘you’re all just worthless pieces of shit!’

My, such an impressive insult repertoire. I don’t think I’ve been called a piece of shit quite so many times before. So the MoD is talking to security on the phone, she’s yelling at us and then starts to storm off. I couldn’t resist (the phone call had finished by now)

Me: Do you feel proud of yourself that you can say that? Do you go home at night and feel –safe- because you can insult people?

Her: You’re just a fucking worthless piece of shit!

My, such a pleasant end to the evening no? I –really- wanted her to turn around and storm back, yelling and cursing and insulting the whole bit, until the cops turned up, or, until she decided to get over the counter and attack someone. Then a rather pleasantly …entertaining interlude should follow.

Now, as I’ve said, I’m not an aggressive person, I don’t go looking for fights, I rarely get angry. Not irritated, -angry-. And with her, I was fuming. You do –not- throw shit at me and expect to get away with it, and then, after getting me pissed from –that- little thing, you do not then, insult me and not expect an insult (or more) back.

Honestly, some people are just asking for it.

Blind, Bound, Bleeding

Blind, Bound, Bleeding.

Red hot pain
removed my eyes;
I am Blind.

Burning coarse ropes
bind my wrists behind,
bind my ankles together,
hold my flesh unkindly;
I am Bound.

Seeping warmth, seeping life,
ebbing down my arms,
ebbing down my legs,
seeping through the gaps
in my bruised and broken flesh,
pooling my life beneath me.
I am Bleeding.

Blind,
Bound,
Bleeding.

Alone in the silence,
mute in the darkness,
held in the death
that began my life;
I am Blind.

Torn from the truth,
concealed from the lies,
hidden within their hearts,
I am Bound.

Whispering the silence,
Bound in the secrets,
Weeping for mercy;
I am Bleeding.

Blind,
Bound,
Bleeding,

Within you,
Needing you,
but Ignored.

Arrogance and Humility.

Such as too much arrogance is distasteful and annoying, so is too much humility. There -is- such a thing as being too humble, and it is almost as irritating as arrogance.

One of the girls in my class, she is very smart with languages, and she manages to get good grades in english lit, but she is so blasted -meek- about it, and humble and like 'I think this but it's probably not right so...' ...gah!

Another thing that is irritating, although I've already mentioned it, is when people make mention of something that is stressing them or whatever, and then refuse to say anything further about it!

Gah.

Oh, and the reason why my posts have recently been rather snarky and ranty and aggro and all that...bloody seasonals decide to drop by. Hormones going haywire so between craving greasy, dodgy maccas and HJ's, I snarl at everyone. -_-

Sorry guys.

A lesson learned- Lit camp and such. (long)

Day/night 1

I've discovered something rather unusual about the nataure of ego, and ironically, it was on Lit Camp watching Shakespeare in Love.

Those that are told they are 'good', the 'best', 'pure', more often than not become vain, arrogant and proud. So that when told that they are an angel etc-- the Christian personification of good-- they affect humility, bow their heads and smile in thanks, because it is expected of them.

On the other hand, those that are told they are evil, ugly, hag or witch-like, after perhaps the first few times of hurt, it doesn't inflate their ego to the same extent as if it were a 'pure' compliment. 'Purity' and 'goodness' is evidently something to be envious of others possessing, yet being evil seems to -not- be. Why is that, I wonder?

(I'm one of those people that get called 'evil' on a regular basis, I'm quite proud of it actually, of the fact that there are those that don't care to cross me because I am 'evil' ;P)

After all, do not those you call 'evil', strive to be so? Do they not work at earning that name once bestowed with it? But, while calling a soul a 'beauty', something not earnt nor worked for, they grow vain with it, arrogant, complacent. yet the 'evil' souls merely shrug (or grin), say 'meh' or 'i know' but they don't really care, not in the same way that a 'good' person does.

Day 2

Well, after weeks of almose complete silence -- a comment on my blog here or therel-- I get a text message stating somthing along the lines of 'we haven't spoken for a while, not a decent talk, how are you?'

I replied that I was well and the reason we didn't talk more often was that you never reply to your texts.
That got me the prompt assurance that from hereon, such a thing would not happen.

Suffice to say, a grand total of four texts later, two from the each of us, that covered but the pleasantries, and due to training on his part and perhaps shortly after the preparation of dinner for me, but silence reigned.

Thus the 'in depth' and 'good' conversation played out. It's nice to be contacted but, quite franikly, I find offence and dislike that after a comment promising something of a long conversation, a swiftly supplied excuse and a refusal to converse beyond the greeting...well, i'm sure you get my point.

It's just not nice (sorry, I couldn't leave the topic alone, wrote this down on paper shortly after, emotions are such -fun- things to write with) to set foundations of what might be a decent 'catch-up' conversation and then, not ten minutes later, say that you have to go, after which you outright refused to speak of anything more pointed than the blasted weather!

If you just want to assure your morals or whatever that you care, to play the 'friend' role for a few moments that month, but you don't -actually- want to talk, and you then make that abundantly clear-- I DON'T WANT TO KNOW.

I hate falsity and liars, I have said this numerous times. Unless you are willing to spend the hour or two it would take to catch up edequately, after expressing that self-same desire, spread that falacy of care over some other sap.

I mean, saying that you've had a rough week and then, when asked or offered a sympathetic ear, a shoulder to cry one, whatever, say that it's in the past and that you're looking forward to the weekend... just no.

Can anyone understand or see why I'm a mite annoyed or am I just blowing hot air?

Monday (today)

Contrary to how it sounds, I actually enjoyed myself at the camp. When the people in my chalet shut up and let me sleep. I'm a bit dead on my feet. Here's a girl that is usually asleep by 9.30, not -getting- to sleep until it is no longer pm but am, and then waking up before 7am because she can't sleep very well in a foreign bed... Yes. Well, suffice to say my lovely, charming self made herself abundantly present that last day in waking the morons up (they hadn't shut up until 3am, I woke up a 5.45AM) with a lovely, polite, knock on the door (loud enough to wake the people three chalets down...) since we had to get out of there before 7.30am.

So yes, I am not the best of people when I am tired.

Of course, they complained about -me- because I snored (fair enough, I do, and it's loud) but that is something that I CANNOT control, it's unconsious, but them talking at the top of their lungs into the wee hours of the morning is something they CAN control. Just....*snarl* Yes. I am tired. And at school. And having to do three blasted assignments tonight because they're due in a weeks time and and...argh. Maybe I'll recover from having an average of four hours sleep a night after I graduate.

There were funny parts too, we had to give an interpretation of Othello, the groups chose specific scenes and all, and the last one was -funny- as. It was Desdamona's killing scene, and they over dramatised it something cruel. Melodrama, parody. I hurt myself laughing.

Othello has just strangled Desdamona, and she's there lying on the pillows (pillows laid out along the floor = bed) and (s)he's yapping on "And it is Emilia!" Now 'emilia' knocks "Now it is Emilia!" hehehe.

When Iago kills Emilia, she goes to lay next to Desdamona on the bed only there's not enough room (she was laying wonky) so hup! Dead desdamona shifts over XD

And Lodovico is (to Iago) take away his sword-- Iago now takes -out- said sword (it's a spatula, egg slice flippy thing)

Othello belly-stabs Iago with a ladle (big spoon) XD Gets disarmed by Cassio (who is very injured supposedly), says his bit with Iago and Othello over-glaring at each other, glaring, giving the evils from a whole, three inches of distance between their faces.

Othello apologises to Cassio for agreeing to his death and is supposed to take a blade from him for his suicide, only he doesn't, and oh so casually walks around the bed, takes a 'dagger' (a pair of salad tongs, you know, the metal ones?) and hides it behind his back XD

So then Othello says his cut-short suicide speech and lays on Desdamona, who is laughing, and the shoulder bouncing, as they hadn't practised beforehand XD Othello is trying to be dead and there's 'dead' Desdamona, laughing at him.

Very very funny. I rather enjoyed it, hurt myself laughing, but then so did the rest of the class, including the cast XD

Oh, I was also sent after one of the girls, since she was wandering around the rocks and my lit teacher didnt' want her to be alone any more. First I tried to find her, easier said than done when it's cliff faces that aren't flat. -_- But I discovered that I was rather good at tracking things, over shell-studded sand that left like, zippo tracks. I watched her for a bit, waiting patiently for her to notice me, and when she did, she jumped, I did scare her. >_< It was a nice view though.

Another time, I scared the same girl, by walking down the hallway of one of the chalets (little house-like things) and standing, she turns, saw me, and hit her head on the roof. XD

Uhum...what else...

Oh! I bought two books there, I just finished reading one, Kushiels Dart, it's rather good actually. About an anguisette (masochist, very much so) courtesan spy person, intruige, politics, war, prophesy, riddles, sailing ships, blood, fighting, death, sex -- Since the goddess Naamah is the diety of it and whores and the like are priestesses sort of, Servants of Naamah.

I recomend it actually, if you like reading complex storylines where things aren't very easy to follow but you grow into the understanding as the tale continues, as does the character...

Very very nice. A good read. Not many books can move me to tears once, let alone three times, like this one did.

And that I think, shall be the note on which I end this (and the fact that the bells about to go I think), so yeah, two or three days (depends how you count it) of lit camp, and it worked out to be rather ...productive actually.

Lit camp, hurrah. -_-

Yes, I am just -so- completely thrilled to be going on an English Literature camp for the next four days. Yummy. From thursday to Sunday of Lit, solid bloody lit stuff. At least it's on Rottnest I suppose.

But still, I'd rather have a weekend, than nigh on seven days of school. Seriously, wouldn't you rather have a weekend in which to do whatever, than -have- to follow a schedual and learn and whatnot? Ugh. Not my cup of tea.

But speaking of weekends, or rather, school, mother dearest spoke to two of my teachers yesterday, my history and lit teacher, lo and behold because they said that I could- should be able to do my TEE exams and pass with flying colours, mother dearest has got it into her head that she is going to cut out my net time, COMPLETELY. That was the idea she had at the bloody parent/teacher interviews.

Luckily she realised that she had next to no chance of getting me to agree to such a thing, so she's 'compromised' it to be that I can spend ONE day a week on the net chatting. Oh joy. And she's going to be bloody monitoring -that- day too, 'you're not going on for the whole day' yaddah yaddah yaddah.

Oh and dictating to me as well! Check this, 'when you're not in school, you will be either working or studying.' Okay. Right. Like hell.

Point a) if I studied as much as other kids in my class do, then I would have gone through the year's work, four times over by the time the end of the year bloody rolls around, start to finish. That's for -all- my subjects. Point b) I need RELAXING time. She says 'don't fight me on this' so give me some fucking time to wind down! I've got enough to deal with as it is, with tests, assessments and whatnot every week, -without- having to worry about my home life as well.

Of course, if I stay in my room, unless I put a fucking sign on the door saying STUDYING, PISS OFF! she'll be knocking on the bloody thing every half hour to ask why I'm being rude and not 'socialising'. Honestly, I can't win.

I'm also sick of having to humble myself to her bloody boyfriend. It's to keep the peace in the house and the fact that I don't want to be blamed for causing yet another argument, but the truth is, I am -sick- and tired of him telling me what to do! I mean, he's not my father, he has no right to -act- like my father, it's only out of some remanents of respect for my mother that I do as he bloody says, and he exploits that and yells at -me- for not doing what she says, what he says, as they expect his child to do!

Argh, I am NOT in a good mood.