Thoughts of a Troubled mind

Alone In The Dark

2011-04-10T19:09:00.003+08:00

The most pointless confusing counterintuitive game I have ever had the misfortune to play. Fair enough that I am not the most competent of gaming individuals, it's not like I go out and buy and clock a new game every week but... godamn.

I got ...just passed the title screen. That is how 'good' this game is. My god.

Okay, you start with the opening cutscene, sure whatever, except oh no, you have to BLINK. Blink your way through a cutscene. If you don't blink, everything goes white and you can't see. Which defeats the whole purpose of the cutscene thing. If you can't watch it then... well.

Some talking about something and someone gets hit, I don't know, I wasn't really paying attention because I kept on having to BLINK. But, eventually you get to walk and blink at the same time. Whoooo, multitasking! Sadly, I also lacked the intuitive manner in which I could turn and walk and blink. Just walk sideways and grind your face against the wall until getting hit by the guard to swing you around, and oh hey, have to climb some stairs, and blink.

He ends up dying, and I spent, I swear to god, fifteen minutes blinking and trying to figure out where I was supposed to go. Yay, a mirror! Punch the mirror and we can now be a camera. Awesome.

...this is the general theme of the sodding game. You climb a rope, okay, my version is for the Playstation 2, so it was X to jump and grab the rope, but square to jump while holding -onto- the rope because if you x jumped you let go of the rope, fell to your doom and died and had to go through the sodding thing all over again. Oiye.

I managed to get through putting out some fire, bashing in a door, and getting over a hole in the floor. Which, lo and behold, brought me to the TITLE SCREEN. I now know what game I am playing.

Jumping onto a rope and a ledge and dying umpteen million times, and I gave up. Literally. And it took me an HOUR to get there. ...I died a lot.

Now, if you want to -play- this game, I highly recommend you do so with an audience of other people who have learnt the joy of Alone In The Dark. Why? Because that makes it a fun game. It is just a game of fail, really. The audience spends more time reminiscing about how -they- failed attempting to do anything in the process.

This game seems to be a mash up of all horror genres with the least amount of sense possible. You start confused, and it just doesn't get any better. You start out with blinking and whitescreen, people getting eaten by shadows, fire, then progress to cracks in the floor that eat you and drag you around, and zombies. Where the HELL did the zombies come from? I mean -really-. The hungry floor is -somewhat- plausible, the shadows that ate people had to come from -something- right? But -zombies-. What the hell?! ...And everything is strangely immune to fire.

It is the best game to make fun of, because it is so counter-intuitive to play. That is the sole saving feature of the game. You can watch someone -else- play it and fail. And laugh.

Work

2009-08-29T01:29:00.003+08:00

Okay, sound this out with me. It's been three months, and I have been working every week on saturday night, 6-midnight. Work did -not- have any extra shifts for me, period. not even ONE, for that entire three months unless they called me in because someone called in sick.

I get asked to work in another store, I agree instantly, and make noises about offering them more of my free time as they need it. I work at this other store, actually -enjoy- working at said other store and all of a sudden they require me to work in that store three days in a row? Hmm. I smell something a little bit sus.

So, I check the roster, and lo and behold, I finally have an extra shift! methink mazing! However, they neglected to inform me that there -might- have been changes to my usual routine, and so, I neglected to inform myself of this.

Am I over reacting? is the fact that I -liked- the time spent working in another store -not- synonymous with extra shifts in the store that I was first employed in, a store that miraculously have the extra hours to give me?

Oh, there's another -delightful- part of working there. See, Assistent Manager A is a biatch, and a mean manager. So to complain about Assistent manager A, you have to go to Store Manager B. Slight problem, Store Manager B and Assistent Manager A are good friends... so guess who's word is going to get more weight? Okay, so now we have a problem with Store Manager B, so we go up another rank on the tier to Area Manager C. You with me so far? But alas! Store Manager B and Area Manager C live IN THE SAME HOUSE. Guess who's bedbuddies hmm? And to go above Area Manager C you have to ask.... State Manager? or something? about it, but alas, there is this slight problem of NOT KNOWING WHO THE FUCK THAT IS.

A + B + C = you are screwed.

And now, for your regularly schedualed chaotically supplied diversion of the amusing factor

2009-08-10T00:21:00.002+08:00

<3 Total eclipse of the heart. Literally.

Meatloaf! Anything for love.

And that is your reguarly schedualed but chaotically supplied diversion of the amusing factor. Have a nice day ^^

~ShaedowDancer~

Quote of the Month -- and poem

2009-06-24T01:56:00.002+08:00

Rylia says, "Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pr0n surfed, weak and weary,
over many a strange and spurious site of 'hot xxx galore'.
While I clicked my fav'rite bookmark, suddenly there came a warning,
and my heart was filled with mourning, mourning for my dear amour,
"'Tis not possible!", I muttered,"Give me back my free hardcore!"
Rylia says, "Quoth the server, 404."

That made me hurt myself laughing. Credit goes to Rylia, and Dianna, and the adult fun-place of textual imaginings known as Shangri-La. But enough about the credit. Now, for a new poem! I haven't been writing as much as I did two years ago, but well, there you have it.

Wish, Wish, Wish.

Wish for a story,
Pray it is true.
Hope they are happy
and love pulled through.

Wish for a memory
of loves first kiss,
hope that it curdled
with a flick of the wrist.

Wish for a dream;
The sky turns red.
Fire on the horizon
mourned by the dead.

Wish for the hope
Where has love gone?
Down the drains of misery,
preyed on by the unbourne.

Hate is the cure,
Pray for the end.
Misery take you,
my long forgotten friend.

Finis.

Just a simple, short thing really. A ten minute bus trip worth of time. :)

~ShaedowDancer~

Complaints!

2009-06-13T15:27:00.002+08:00

I seem to be in a complaining mood today, so I shall complain!

First up: LISTEN, think, pause, reply.

Please, for the love of god, when you are TALKING to someone, LISTEN to what they are saying before you spout out some completely off-tangential question. For example, asking someone if they have anything planned for the evening? 'no', do NOT then ask them what they are DOING in that VERY SAME EVENING. The answer will be 'no'. I mean, dude, seriously, you just ASKED THAT.

Dickhead.

'what are you doing now?' 'watching tv' 'so what are you drawing then?' .........

.... -_-

'I just said that I am watching tv' 'oh sorry. What are you watching?' 'tv'.

Hint: If you are getting the equivalent of a monosyllabic reply that tells you precisely what you asked and not one whit more, odds are THEY DON'T WANT TO TALK TO YOU. And please, with sugar on top, do NOT keep asking questions because the conversation (such as it was) not only died, but is buried and slimy with three months worth of rot! Asking questions of 'so... sup' does NOT constitute having 'anything in common', and that, dear idiots, is REQUIRED for a conversation to even OCCUR.

For petes sake.

Oh, and talking about sex doesn't count. 'yeah, so, I just finished wanking' no. Just... no. Please. DON'T GO THERE. If you are confused, go back to the hint, and read it over. Again. And again. And again. Until you get the hint!

Second complaint: COMMUNICATION.

If you send me an email, and I reply to it. You reply again, and without waiting for me to send one BACK to you, you call me? DONT. For petes sake, what was wrong with the medium being used? It was a way of talking that didn't invade, like a phone call does. I use my phone, pretty much, for emergencies only. What if my mother got into a car accident, had both her legs and her back broken and was unconsious, and the doctors needed the next of kin to come down and give a medical history because she was sort of OUT OF IT, but they couldn't get through because I was stuck talking to some dipstick I didn't like, giving monosyllabic answers until he took the hint and left? For pete's sake people. Pick a medium of communication and STICK WITH IT.

Another thing, if you communicate with someone via a somewhat less than reliable source ie. by writing a comment on my blog to me (I read all of them by the way, as I have to verify and allow them to be posted) do be a dear and CHECK BACK ON IT. Odds are if it is TO me specifically, rather than just a thingy comment, then I WILL reply to it, on my blog. Right below your comment. Asking when something happens is all very well and good, but it doesn't help YOU much if you never look back to see what my answer was!

Gyah!

Third thing: Teasing.

Odds are, if you are reading this then you know me. You know that I have issues with insomnia, and even if you -don't- know of this blog, then you will know of the insomnia anyways! So, with this reminder, do not, please, do NOT call me lazy because I got up at 9.30 in the fricking morning. Odds are I'll have gotten to sleep at FOUR. Who's the lazy one now? You going to bed at 10.30pm and getting up at six. Oohhh... you had to get up at six after a whole EIGHT HOURS SLEEP. I have just gotten FIVE and you call ME lazy?

Oh for pete's sake.

Another thing. I have an eating problem. In the sense that I don't. I eat perhaps ONCE a day. Maybe. And that relies heavily on how much I've drunk (juice, or especially milk) in that day as to whether or not I get hungry. If I am not hungry, I do not eat. End of story. "oh you need to eat more" dickhead. LOOK AT ME. I am NOT the thinnest twig in the forest, OBVIOUSLY I eat TOO MUCH. So do NOT for the love of god, tease me about it, or call me up on it. Ever.

Mother dearest snarling at me every time I opened the fridge from when I was ...god I don't know, 13? with a two year break while she and my father separated, until I had to move in with her to finish schooling. So, from three years ago, CONSTANTLY growled at for going to the fridge to get something to eat puts a damper on your appatite. Not having time in the morning to make yourself breakfast, nor lunch while -at- school reduces on your -need- to eat. So you want to call me up on not eating? Go jump off a bridge. Dickhead.

'Teasing' does not mean being crude, making blunt sexual references for metaphores that are perfectly acceptable as the G-8 rating! Seriously people, there is no need to be crass!

Fourth: Friendly vs Social vs Easy.

I am a FRIENDLY person. Not social. And most certainly NOT easy.

You tell someone that you are friendly, and they automatically assume that you will spend every waking minute of every hour of every day with them, or if not with them, with other people out in crowds doing things. This is not always the case! You do such, if you are a -social- person. I am not. I dislike people, intensely, and I -loathe- crowds.

I am friendly. Which is to say I'll talk to almost anyone, get a smile, or a laugh, or even a strange look before they start murmuring about having to stand elsewhere, but I also like my 'alone time'. I would rather curl up somewhere with a book, or a sketch pad and pencil, than go out and -have- to talk to people that I don't like.

You try to explain this to people, and they assume that 'alone time' means something else entirely, and that they can quite easily invade your alone time with their alone time for some 'together' alone time. Thus 'friendly' equates to 'easy' or 'social'.

It is NOT the case. I'm probably complaining to no one, of no one in particular, but I just have to get this out there.

Friendly =\= an easy lay
Friendly =\= a social butterfly
Friendly =\= desperate for attention
Friendly =\= malleable to molding
Friendly =\= anything other than just being FRIENDLY.
Friendly = being polite, listening, smiling, giving someone your attention until such a time as other things occur. This does NOT mean that you need complete and utter devotion from another, this does NOT mean that you need to -give- said complete and utter devotion to someone else.

And no, being friendly but not social is NOT a deficiency! It does -not- need to be 'fixed'. If you cannot wrap your head around this, I repeat myself from before, GO JUMP OFF A BRIDGE.

Fifth, Staring:

Okay, I know eyes wander, it's what they DO. But please, please, PLEASE, for the love of god, do not STARE. Sure, look, but don't make it OBVIOUS. For petes sake, have a sense of decorum and SUBTLETY. Godamn, you'd think that sort of thing would be, you know, COMMON SENSE.

Sixth, Art 'critiques':

If I ask for your opinion on something that I've drawn, PLEASE give me an honest one. If you hate it, say so, but please be able to tell me WHY as well, so that I can improve. More than 'oh I don't like it because that nose is too big' or 'I don't like the way you drew that there'. If you don't like the subject matter, SAY SO, if you don't like the colours used, SAY SO, if you don't like the proportions, SAY SO. Point it out to me, so that I can get better. Give and take people, I want to get better, but to my eye, my drawing isn't getting any better, but according to others I am growing by leaps and bounds. To me, it still sucks, so I'm not that good a judge of my own work. That's why I ask!

But please, PLEASE, if I ask for your opinion, and you say "I don't have one until you draw such and such for me" I am liable to scream. I DON'T want to draw what YOU want me to draw. You want a picture of pinocchio stuck in whatisface's blowhole? DRAW IT YOURSELF. Or pay me to, which will give me your opinion on my art regardless. I mean dude, if you're willing to pay for my shit, you must like it, so why couldn't you just SAY SO.

Dickhead.

I think that covers everything that is snapping at me lately, and making me snarl. I sure as hell hope so.

~ShaedowDancer~

Melancholy and loneliness

2009-06-10T14:54:00.002+08:00

You know what sucks? When you are lonely for a specific person, or type of person, or something, but the only people around you that offer you company are needy, clinging, and you have to watch every other word with them?

What sucks even worse is when you find that people you think you would get along really well with, and would mesh well with, they up and vanish without a word as to why. Which makes you think back -- hey, this has happened before -- and since. So you miss the folk that leave, while giving a reason, but those that vanish without a word make you cry and think -- Did I do something wrong? What happened? Did something bad happened? Or did they just get bored and leave? -- and then the clingy people ask why you are sad, so you say, and then they get offended and sulky themselves because you don't care enough about -them- to cry over them, and neither can they help to brighten your mood.

*sighs*

Before this, I was feeling like an object, just ... something to be stared at. Which was what was happening. Alot. And -obviously-. Ick.

Now I feel unwanted. But due to objecthood, I want to feel cherished, wanted as a -person- not as a thing. *sighs*

And I've got my first exam tomorrow, another two next week. Great time for emotional/mental crisis! I have the best timing ever. -_- Not.

~ShaedowDancer~

September, september

2009-05-26T15:09:00.002+08:00

Oh for it to be september!

GodDAMN I need a holiday. Why is it, I wonder, that EVERYONE wants a bit of your time when you seriously do not HAVE any to give?!

Gyah! And then they complain that you are 'too busy'. -_- Just because I use up all the days in my week with stuff I -have- to do, and that the days when I'm not either working or at uni happen to be in the middle of the week is not -my- fault.

You can do more in the middle of the week than on the weekend anyways. Nothing is open on the weekend. Believe me, I know. That's why I work it.

In other news, I have the aeroplane ticket BACK from the states. Yay! Now I'm not getting deported ^_~

The Economy

2009-02-20T22:21:00.002+08:00

The buzzword on everyone's lips; Recession. Closely followed by the hastily whispered and bleeped out 'Depression'. Funny, in Zimbabwe they're thinking of printing the zillion dollar note...which really makes you think how big it will be, how small the numbers, or whether they'll just have rows of the zero's. 10000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

And I'm probably a few zero's short.

In America we have the trillion dollar bailout. Again, another heap of zeros of dollars pumped into a stuttering economy. Europe was the first to hit the recession, all countries using the 'euro' officially hitting mid-last year. Don't quote me on any of this, I'm just summarising what little of the news I've picked up regarding this topic.

Even China is struggling a little. Nothing about Russia, but hey, who cares about them anyways?

Funny to think, that the -cause- of this catastrophe in the world was, oh so surprisingly, the American Stock Market. You'd think people would have learnt from the -last- time the sodding thing crashed. 1929 anyone? Don't look at me like that. It -actually- crashed in june 1929, but it wasn't until februrary 1930 that the Great Depression was actually officially decried or something.

What's even more funny? Obama introduced his bailout -after- Australia's was implemented by Kevin Rudd, about ...ah.... novemberish? Last year. Around $1000 was given to the qualifying peoples, that was the average. -And- we were instructed to spend it frivolously. And what do you know? It worked! So there is a second one happening in the next few weeks, of around $900 given out this time. Plus school funding, and other such long term beneficiary projects. Now, keep in mind the time frame.

USA - stock market crash, minor recession of unemployment - Euro using countries in recession - Australia has the first stimulus package - USA in official recession - Trillion dollar bailout starting to be argued about in their governmental seats - Australia gets the second bailout tossed about and argued and minor recession is admitted.

Now lets see this again, -before- Australia went into recession, there was a bailout.

USA is already IN recession, heading towards depression, and they are STILL arguing about a bailout. Which is loans given to people with low interest repayment. As far as I know, Australians don't have to pay back the 'loan', just spend it on our economy. Hmm.

And said 'loan' in Australia came BEFORE the recession hit us. Somehow that doesn't put alot of faith in Obama's kneejerk, belated reaction to the impending economical collapse. I get the idea that I think it'll be much the same as in the 1930's of the Depression. Too little, too late. Or too much too late?

Either way, Australia has the 'box seat' in the impending problem, the country that will be the best off as this impending storm breaks open and the threatening Depression becomes a reality. Fingers crossed, eh?

Yeah, so...

2009-01-28T19:37:00.003+08:00

Okay, I had a staff outing today, it was great fun, exhausting, going to Q-zar (laser tag) and loitering in a park playing soccor/football/keepyoff and all that, it was fun, had a blast, got hot and sweaty and exhausted. It was a muggy humid day. I get tagged several times in the game, tag a few others, shoot the HQ alot so my teams won... yadda yadda.

I return to mothers, I'd INTENDED on going home today because y'know, I have to pay the rent. But no, I start at fricking 10am, and stuffed if I'm getting up at 7, again, to travel across the city.

Anyways, I return to mothers and what do I find? But her boyfriend asleep on the couch. I get in quietly, putter around for about 10, 15 minutes, doing little, quiet things, a drink, putting my suitcase away again... stuff like that. I come out of the bedroom, stand in the loungeroom just enjoying the cool, and he wakes up. He says 'hi' first, i return it, sit on the couch and turn on the wii (he bought one too), start playing a game, super paper mario.

I get hot and, silly me, thinking that he was already fucking awake, I get an icypole out of the freezer to suck and chew on and all that fruit. Like you do with an icypole. Unbeknownst to me he's texting mother dearest, complaining that I woke him up.

So, mother dearest gets home, goes off her nut at me about waking up people when they're trying to sleep and all that fruit, and delivers this charming little announcement; If you wake one of us up again when we are trying to sleep you'll have to find someplace else to stay on saturday nights because you can't fucking stay here.

Verbatum.

Lovely. Just fan-bloody-tastic. Oh, did I mention that she was all fired up about me moving back into her fucking house while I try to save up for my trip to the US? Oh so kindly charging me rent. $170 thankyou nicely a week. See, $100 for food, $50 for the rego for my car and $20 for electricity. Charming. I'll stay where I am at the moment thankyou, it's fucking CHEAPER.

So, after that lovely little thing, she and he go out, after she asks (tells) me to cook dinner. Sure, no problem, I like to cook. So I get started on it, I start putting in things, like minced garlic and so on, and she goes off her nut at me. Again. Saying that I'd fuck it up, and that THIS was how you did it, showing me and whatnot. Right, whatever.

Either I'm cooking, or you are. If I'm cooking, piss the fuck off and let me cook, sure you've got umpteen years experience in cooking but I LIKE to fucking cook, and to experiment with my cooking. If YOU are cooking, then why the HELL did you ask ME to?

It's simple. Either I rule the kitchen when I'm making something, or I don't. There is no half-way houses.

After that, I wash the dishes as she and the boyfriend go out, again, I've got the dishes done, and drying, and I'd fed the cats, when they roll back in. They go have a shower, mother dearest comes out and sits on the couch. "Could you please come and massage my feet?"

"If I must." I mutter.

"What was that?"

"Sure."

"What'd you say before then?"

"If I must."

"I thought you said; that's a dumbass question."

"No."

So I go over there and massage her feet. I am getting SICK of having to do that EVERY fucking week. She's got a FOOTSPA for petes sake, bought for the express purpose so that I DON'T have to do her fucking feet. But no "It's not the same, and the footspa takes so much effort to bring down and set up *pout*."

"Whatever." So rub rub rub rub. Other foot is done, I return to my laptop, and she has the bright idea to ask; "Are you angry at me?"

-_-

"Yes, a bit."

"Why?"

Since she was about to go to bed, I didn't want to run out the full spiel, just "You asked me to cook, and then messed with it."

"Fine, next time that I see you cooking something and about to fuck it up, I'll leave you to it shall i?" She snaps back, before storming off to sleep.

Fucking. Mothers.

I have HAD IT with this shit.

So, a new place to rent, organising with my father, or something to store my shit while I go interstate, and a way to fucking cut her from my life. Oh, right, I have to call her, or something, at least once a week while I'm in the USA. Sure, that'd work out, 12 hour time difference, yummo. Fucking hell, I can't even get away from her by leaving the sodding COUNTRY.

I am epically NOT moving back to live with her. So, epically NOT going to fucking HAPPEN.

~ShaedowDancer~

September

2009-01-12T17:37:00.003+08:00

Gather round, one and all, brothers and sisters, friends and lovers, beloved all! For September is an auspicious month, of great excitement and boon. Of stress and elation, of panic and boxes.

I look down the road of my life and see September and think, yes, this is the time. That is the when, the when the where is decided, the location to be decided, already chosen, when two days of supreme boredome reign during the transition into October.

Ah, you are wondering why, and what on earth I am on about?

To put it simply friends, I. Am. Going. To. The. USA. In. SEPTEMBER.

No if buts or maybes, I AM going. And I am going to stay.

See, last year, around november, I got to thinking about the when. Gotta dodge holiday traffic, and it can't be in either extremes of the seasons, so neither winter nor summer, because it'd be too much of a shock to the system, the abrupt change in temperature. And well, now I have decided. September. Spring. Autumn. The midway seasons.

But first, since I found a ticket, one way, that costs $1500 odd, (that was the cheapest, TRUST ME) but lo and behold, you require a credit card to buy the sodding thing. So, first order of call, get a credit card and a passport.

Do you know what sort of hoops you have to jump through to get a flipping PASSPORT?! Egads. see, I don't have a drivers liscense, obviously, so I gotta get two pictures with two different people that are neither blood relations, but have known me for at least a year, get them to sign the back of the sodding pictures that have to be of a specific size, focused on a specific part of my head and shoulders, too close, too far away and it's kaput. Oh my GOD.

I -also- needa get some money bags. Why you ask? the little plastic thingies so I can deposit the shrapnel I have in my room. All $500 of it. Or there abouts, when I last counted. I've added coins since then. >_> Need my birth certificate, photocopied -and- the original. And a medicare card or centrelink card and and and and. Egads.

And -then- I gotta find some place to get a visa from.

Oh, and the ticket price? See, why I gotta deposit that shrapnel, is that with that amount -and- what's in my bank, ticket is in the purse. Capisce? So, I buy it NOW, then I pay off the credit bill, and can spend the nine odd months saving up for the shift over. And trying to figure out how the hell I'm gonna get all my shit over there. XD Probably by ship. Whoo, 3 months wiht nothing. XD Oh well.

All hyped and stuff, and uni starting soon and gotta get a second job and and and whew.

My year is gonna be busy, methinks.

~*ShaedowDancer*~

The Call; Prince Caspian.

2008-12-21T23:34:00.002+08:00

Okay, I admit it. I am a squishy marshmellow, all soft and pathetic. Yet another movie has made me cry. Chronicals of Narnia; Prince Caspian to be exact.

The reason why? Peter and Susan don't get to return to Narnia, and Lucy had to say goodbye to Aslan. :( Sad sad sad parts! And to top it all off, when they were leaving, to go through the hole in the tree to return to London, this song was playing!

Lyrics:

It started out as a feeling
Which then grew into a hope
Which then turned into a quiet thought
Which then turned into a quiet word

And then that word grew louder and louder
'Til it was a battle cry

I'll come back
When you call me
No need to say goodbye

Just because everything's changing
Doesn't mean it's never
Been this way before

All you can do is try to know
Who your friends are
As you head off to the war

Pick a star on the dark horizon
And follow the light

You'll come back
When it's over
No need to say good bye

You'll come back
When it's over
No need to say good bye

Now we're back to the beginning
It's just a feeling and now one knows yet
But just because they can't feel it too
Doesn't mean that you have to forget

Let your memories grow stronger and stronger
'Til they're before your eyes

You'll come back
When they call you
No need to say good bye

You'll come back
When they call you
No need to say good bye

~~~~~~~~~~~

The Call by Regina Spektor. It made me cry! As such, it is now in my playlist. XD I think it's a lovely, wonderful song ...still made me cry though. *sniffles*

Anyways! Review of Prince Caspian.

It was good. I for one, while I have read the entirety of the Chronicals of Narnia, couldn't really get into them. I didn't really understand the hype, therefore, for me, the movies are better than the books. It's a year later, after the Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, when Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy had returned to London.

Prince Caspian's uncles wife births a son, lo and behold, Uncle...thingy, I forget his name, plans to have Caspian the tenth assassinated. The old tutor, I forget his name too, helps Caspian escape into the woods and voila! The Narnians that were supposed to be extinct, aren't quite that wiped out, and uncle thingy's guards, the telmorians are beaten up by a dwarf and before another biffs caspian over the head he blows this ivory horn and poof! (not quite, but you get the idea) Susan, Peter, Edmund and Lucy are pulled back into Narnia. A thousand years after they left it, or something along those lines.

Ta da, they meet up with caspian and the narnians, fight an epic battle while not believing Lucy about seeing Aslan, then rely on Lucy FINDING Aslan to help them kick some badguy ass.

Suffice to say it works, the Narnians get back their kindom with Caspian as king, but P, L, S, E have to go back to London. :( It's all sad, Peter gives Caspian his sword.

And then when they're all saying goodbye, be good, stay happy, you've learnt all you can and so on, the call starts playing and I start crying. Lucy didn't even get to hug Aslan goodbye! :( So yes, it made me cry.

Another that I watched, All Dogs Go to Heaven, made me cry at the end too. Even though it was a happy ending, kinda. Sorta. Charlie got to go back to heaven, and Anne-Marie got a family but still.... it made me cry. :( I am such a marshmellow! *sigh* good movie though, even though it was a kids cartoon movie. :) I recommend it for watchings.

Potential novel; Prologue

2008-12-16T18:57:00.001+08:00

The oak-wood brush ran down the shining burgundy curls, smoothing out non-existent tangles in the candle-light, the soft, shushing sound of dry hair as it is cared for, almost painstakingly brushed into a shining glory, capturing the soft candle-glow and turning it into dark red highlights in the dark strands. The illusion of lit from within is lost as paler than new snow hands divide the hair into three, and braid it, the thick sections of hair weaving back and forth over, under and around each other, to form a neat, but thick rope of hair, reaching down to midback. This is where the story starts, with a braid of burgundy hair, cared for and prepared in the soft golden glow of candle-light.

The braid whips through the air, the end weighted, and cracks into a face, causing a howl of pain from a broken jaw, another howl and the wet splatter of blood on the wall, a hiss of dying air, and the sobbing moan of the wounded.

“Where are they.”

Only a moan, a pitiful thing, is the response.

“Where. Are. They.”

Another moan, escalating into a shriek as the broken jaw is grabbed and wrenched so that the wounded’s face is turned to his interrogator. He whimpers and points down the alley, curling up into a ball around his pain. A disgusted snort, and the owner of the burgundy braid steps over that piece of human refuse in the direction indicated.

A few metres down, and there is a scungy wooden door. A scan of the surroundings, the braid shifting slightly, heavily, against the owners back, lamplight catching the glean of the almost red strands. “I need to speak to Dmitri.” Is the greeting to the guard, who folds his arms, muscles bulging against the black muscle shirt.

“Who’s askin’?”

“No one of your concern.” Whiter than new snow, the hands and arms they are attached to move, and the guard finds breathing to be much more interesting than questioning the stranger, who walks in the door, the solid clump of a boot against the wooden floor. Another guard approaches, burlying up, muscles flexing, arms folding, eyeballing the intruder. “Who’re you?”

“I am here to speak to Dmitri. Where is he?”

“Aint no one seein’ Dmitri until we clear it.” The tall, bald bouncer looks rather smug at this.

A glance from eyes mostly hidden by shadows, on a paler than pale face, a snap of a wrist and there is a white hand around the bouncers throat, bringing him down to the newcomers height, “Where. Is. He.” A flex of the hand prompts the bouncer to betray his training and his boss, he points to the stairs.

“Of course.” Released, the bouncer stares at the intruders retreating back, the burgundy braid swinging slightly with the flexing of the body as they climb the stairs. First door on the left, a couple being less than discreet, first on the right is the same situation, albeit two pair, and not a one heterosexual. Down to the end of the dark hall, a blue door, two bouncers on either side, each eyeballing the stranger. No word had been sent up to expect anyone.

“Name, purpose?”

“My name is my own and will stay that way, I need to speak to Dmitri.”

The guards exchange a glance, before grunting “Aint been cleared. Gotta know who you are, before we let you in, an’ even then is chancy.” A slight smile curves what is visible of the lips of the stranger, before they move, a dark blur edged with snow white, the white of alabaster, and both guards are curled up on the floor, groaning and holding tender parts of anatomy, kidneys, throat. The door is opened, and the intruder steps in, idly flexing snow white hands.

“Kair. I’ve been expecting you.”

“Where are they, Dmitri?”

The chair behind the ebony desk turns and the seated male is visible, a small smile curving his lips beneath his moustache. “Where are who?”

A step forward from the stranger, that is all, but the threat looms larger than the slight stature. “Where. Are. They.” A low growl fills the strangers voice. A warning all on it’s own.

“I no longer have them. And neither will you get the name of who does.” Brave or foolhardy, two hours later, the guards outside the door, having recovered from their earlier interaction, and a subsequent rapid retreat when they attempted to defend their employer, hear a final shriek and a sharp crack of bone snapping. The stranger opens the door and steps out, a white kerchief in hand, wiping off blood before dropping it to the floor, stalking down the hall like a frustrated feline, and that braid of hair flicks like the tail of the irritated cat. A glance over the shoulder, the light catching and giving colour to the brilliant green eyes, so green as to have some yellow in the centre around the pupil. “Remind Dmitri’s boss that I do not bluff.” And the intruder leaves, as the phone starts to ring.

The guards peek into the room, one answers the phone, the other finds what is left of Dmitri Kobanlov. “Uh, I’m sorry but I can’t put Mr Kobanlov on the phone.....why not? ....uh because sir, he’s dead.” The phone is briefly taken away from the ear “Yes sir, that’s right. Dead sir. ...I don’t know sir. He said to let you know that he didn’t bluff, sir. ....I suppose so sir? .....sir?...” click, the beep beep beep that signals that the other line is dead, and the bemused guards look towards the remains of their former employer, blood soaking into and staining the carpet and thought, what could do such a thing?

A cup of sugar with a bit of salt thrown in

2008-12-14T17:30:00.002+08:00

Is apparently what I am, according to a workmates stepfather. Relayed from him to her to me. That's alot of relaying. Is that a good thing...or a bad one?

Also, CHRISTMAS is just TWO weeks away! Not this thursday, but the next!! It's hard to believe, isn't it? Got most of my christmas shopping done, apart from two people. One is because it is being shipped from the US and will be here in 20 days. -_- and the other because I have NO IDEA what to get her. The aforementioned workmate is the her.

Also, seven week old kitten = not much sleep. -_-

Mother's boyfriend brought it home, and she's fixated on me, since they kept her in what was my room, sleeping on my quilt, on old pj's...of mine. So when I dropped by for the weekend (and had to housesit because of little darlings) she took a whole five minutes to say 'hi', and now i have a furry slipper shadow. That tends to be hyper when it's sleep time. And doesn't want anyone else. *sigh*

Oh well.

I squiiiiii!

2008-12-01T18:53:00.002+08:00

Because I have a wiiiiii!

Seriously. I'd been saving up my extra notes since august pretty much, and when I was getting into the high triple digits I priced a wii. Around $390 was what I'd found. So I went back to my saved up spare cash, hmm. $300 odd, I need $400 for the wii, plus around $50 for a game ...make it about $100 to be safe, and get the upper end of the games as well.

No problems. I work, I sleep, life goes on as expected, with ten, twenty, the occasional fifty going into my wii savings. I go on holidays for two weeks up at my dads (that was AWESOME, so relaxing and I was sleeping at NIGHT again!) come back home, give the landlord $420 for the rent, two weeks holiday plus this weeks.... and lo and behold, I am broke and have no food. Hmm. well, I expect to have no food.

Surprisingly, my vegetables that I bought about a month ago were still edible. So I tossed up a pasta dish, spaghetti bolognaise, ran out of pot (The thing you cook it in silly) before I'd added everything I'd intended too, cooked up about a packet and a half of spaghetti and voila! We has fud for the next week and a half. XD

I also discovered -why- I was/am broke, I didn't get paid over my holidays. -_- HEADS WILL ROLL. I don't blame Joondalup KFC for not paying me, since I've quit, but I -do- blame midland. So, on saturday if I haven't gotten paid before then, I will seriously go off my tree at them. And demand 28 hours of pay. Upfront. (that's how many hours of holidays I got >_>)

Also, today was hyper productive. I went to no less than seven places and put in a resume, and the only one that replied with a 'perhaps' that -wasn't- into next year, was a bar. XD Oh well. Also applied at myers, david jones, eb games, jb hifi, and a bank. Oh, that's only six. My bad.

So! I have stuff all food, but I have a wii, 3 games for it, credit on my phone, my smart rider (for public transport) topped up and a possible second job for christmas. Life. She be goooooood. :D

(who needs to eat anyways?)

Do Not Go Gentle Into that Good Night

2008-11-29T16:04:00.003+08:00

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

-- Dylan Thomas

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This poem is usually misquoted in first person, 'I will not go quietly into the night, I will not give up the fight'

But very inspiring regardless.

~ShaedowDancer~

A bit of trivia...

2008-11-20T01:13:00.004+08:00

The Sidhe (pronounced shee) are the 'elite' of the faerie world, the aristocracy so to speak. The sidhe are also known as the (un)seelie, elves, and so on, depending on the 'nightmarish' quality to them, those that are bloodthirsty, sadistic, 'terrifying' are unseelie, and those that are 'nice', and the good guys, are seelie. Like how 'elves' are the good guys, dark elves are the bad, and drows are a race on their own, considered to be 'evil', and worse. This is also could relate to the Wild Hunt, or the sluagh... All fall under the classification of 'sidhe' though..apart from the latter two, they are generally ostracised from the previous four.

One of the main classifications of a sidhe is them having tricoloured eyes. Say, white, blue, black in rings around the pupil, starburst gold into green and blue and so on. The pointed ears are a tag of a 'crossbreed' and an individual that is not 'pure sidhe'.

Now, on the offchance that you meet me, (I forget if I'd mentioned this before...) but pay attention to my eyes. The first you'll notice is two obvious colours, light blue and a navy blue ring around the iris. So yeah, no big deal, I have blue eyes. If you were to look closer without freaking me out, or by simply asking, you might notice that in a starburst out from my pupils is green. This can vary from the light shade of new leaves to the darker green of oak leaves, and it blends with a blue that varies from sky, to electric, to steel. Always present around these two is a couple mm wide strip of navy blue colour.

Three colours.

My dad is the same. He has blue with the navy ring, but his centre colour is grey, from his mother. I got my green from -my- mother.

Makes you think, doesn't it? Tricoloured eyes. Not exactly common in the general population. Think how rare hazel eyes are, let alone when there are nearly perfectly defined rings of colour.

Maybe all the 'faerie tales' weren't quite so .... fake and mythological. Perhaps they are actually real, magic exists, and it is lying dormant under the earth while mankind blunders about with science...

Naaah. I mean come on, magic? Telekinesis, telepathy, shapeshifting, elves? Who'm I kidding.

I'm just nuts.

Right?

Princess of Hell

2008-11-01T02:59:00.003+08:00

As I stand on my balcony, looking out over the scenery -- Hell doesn't have to be all fire and brimstone you know, some parts are actually -nice-. Course, there's no light beyond the fires, as the sun doesn't shine here, so it's bleak compared to what humans are used to, but it has it's own beauty -- I realise that there is -alot- of hype over my mother and father.

I mean sure, fair enough, Satan and Lilith, the evil pair in the major lexicon of the mortal realms, but it's mildly irritating. Satan is one of the Lords of Hell, sure, he's got a bit more oomph than say, Lucifer, who is a asshole to say the least, who was rather stomping around in your great grandfathers day, or earlier -- time is a little confusing to me, or rather, the passing of it is irrelevant, who in turn is higher up than Beezlebub. Now -that- is a male you don't want to be alone with, not in the sense that he used to be the king of Hell, but in the sense that he is ...oily. Sleezy. A ...not pleasant male. Sure, Satan is slick and oily himself, but he does it with -class- you know?

Oh, who am I? I'm Dzeintra, or Xanthia, whichever tickles your fancy, youngest of the seven princesses of hell. I think. They might've gotten busy in the millenia or two I've been ...shall we say ... less than family orientated? I'mthe prodigal child, the black sheep of the family so to speak. And -considering- said family, it's not that hard to figure out -why-. See, I'm a seer. Not one of those white billowing robed things that are utterly irritating in their holier-than-thou attitude where you have to do impossible tasks to get an answer to your question, but ultimately they're on the Light side. That's the uh, 'good guys' for you mortals. Not that it's terribly accurate, but you go with the flow. See, I'm Dark, mother is Dark, we live in the shadows and revel in the destruction of things. It's rather fun actually. On the Light side, you have the celestials, the christian/catholic God -- arrogant asswipe as he is -- technically the Arcana, they're all about rules and whatnot, Gaeans, you know, Gaea, the green goddess of fertility, mother earth? Yeah, them.

On the Dark side, there's us, the demonic, (I'm actually of a different sort, Daemon), the vampires, and so on, all the nasty 'ghoulies' that haunt your nightmares. What was I saying? Oh, right, seer.

Okay, general run down, there are different power levels, as it would be pretty redundant to have an imp (essentially a paper shuffler) on equal power with say, cerberus'. It just wouldn't work, you know? Now a seer is someone (or thing) that can see into the future. Essentially speaking, they are Neutral. Dealing with the grey areas. But alas, the Neutral is divided just like the rest of things into Light and Dark. I, obviously, and a Dark sided seer, one of the rarer breed, Light sided are more common, as they find it ...shall we say... -easier- to align with the Light to get the path they want followed initiated. Some can only see the beginning of this path, others spot the middle, some eye the far end, and so on. Depending on the strength of the seer depends on how far, and how accurately they can see.

Take for example a spiderweb. At first, you wouldn't see it at all would you? But if the light hits it right, or if it was a cold morning and dew clings to the strands, you can see it clearly. A really strong seer can see -all- of the spiderweb, all the possible paths, those that are yet to be made and those that already -have- been made. This type of seer is called an Oracle. All-knowing, in theory. (Trust me, it's not that great). The weaker types will see say, the path they want, and one or two branches off of that path, but not much beyond it. That path generally tends to lead to the continuation of life as it is existing, if they are Light sided.

Remember how I mentioned I was Dark? Yeah, that's not the path I want. Oh don't look at me like that! Death is as much a part of the cycle as the sun setting every evening. The path -I- want (And the one, incidentally, that leads to the -least- tangles and issues later on, which is always a good thing) is one that has a major overhaul of things. Like, end of the world overhaul. Which would be seen as B.A.D by some folk.

But, out from the ashes rise the next generation, and it is towards -this- generation that I guide things. Yes, guide. Think of the Fates, in ancient mythology, where they measured, wove, and cut the thread of mortal life? I do that job, sort of. So, now you know about me, lets get back to Hell hmm?

It honestly isn't that bad! Sure, there is screaming, and fire, and hurting, and in some places snow -- yes, it -does- snow in hell, it's for those that didn't share warmth or something, they have to walk about in the cold without comfort -- water and so on. The only thing that is constantly absent from Hell is light. Sunlight that is, that's the province of Light, obviously, and we are not called Dark for no reason. Oh, and you recall how myths describe demons and such with glowing eyes? Nightvision baby, tenfold. But then....my eyes really -do- glow, they cast their own light.

So, there I am, musing over my balcony, idly toying with some of the flames, making them flare and whatnot, considering things, like how the fear of Satan, the dislike of Lilith, but above all, how much of a -large- part they play. Don't mention the Beasts name, for to say his name is to call his attention to you. Funny, how it takes only -one- person to say daddy dearests name for him to pay attention, but it takes at -least- seven and several hours worth of effort for humans to get the vague interest of Him Upstairs. Show you how much of an asswipe he is, huh?

Mother dearest walks in, my tail swishes slightly (yes, I have a tail, horns, hooves, the whole kit) before she speaks, informing me of a guest. I sigh, turn, bow, and make like a dutiful daughter to greet said guest. Did I mention that mother and I don't get along? Sure, we might both be succubi, but that doesn't mean I go for the whole 'sex 24/7' that she does...although it doens't have to be sex, in retrospect... Anyways, surprise surprise, my guest is actually one of her playthings. One that is mine as well, the gaean prince, so to speak. Next in line to take the throne from Gaea when that overhaul happens -- remember me mentioning it? Several reasons why it's necessary -- evidently just out of a session with mother dearest, judging by the bleeding and marks. Another sigh, and I grip the back of his neck, shadowstepping back to his glade so that he can heal -- side stepping the minotaur or two. You'd think these things'd learn, I mean, I've been tripping in and out frequently enough that the dryads have given me a gaean name. Ugh. But still, he's still their lord, and I'm just the adviser. Think grand vizier, -not- the going to kill him evil Jafar-esque thing, but the same powers.

So yes, I shadowstep back 'home'. I'm not comfortable around green things, it makes me want to burn them -- which is kinda frowned upon there -- and return to oh so patiently waiting for the time to pass. Things have a schedual you know, and at the moment, things are running on track for the overhaul, so I've got very little to do.

Oh, besides turn the enterprising invader back from the past, but those walkways are another story.

The Doll House

2008-10-13T01:04:00.004+08:00

There was this village, out in the middle of nowhere in England. Rolling green pastures, a lake glimmers in the distance under the brilliance of the sun, and beyond it was a lush forest. It was a sleepy sort of village, the kind where you could walk into it in the middle of the day and there wouldn't be a soul to be seen, not in the creepy or frightening way of an abandoned derelict building, no, but in the homey, snoozy type of way, the way a cat napping on the windowsill feels.

Freshly moved into this sleepy, lazy, warm little town, was a couple. Brand new, off the honeymoon and first-home-for-raising-the-children-in phaze, where they vigorously and enthusiastically took part of the necessary 'baby-making'. But alas! The years roll by and still no pitter-patter of baby feet stomp down hallways in the wee hours of the morning, indeed, she doesn't even swell with the promise of those feet. A doctor is seen, and devestating news, both are infertile. The wife tearfully cries "I can't be! I've been pregnant before! I miscarried!" The doctor just shakes his head and shows them the result, decrying that both are unable to bring life into the world....but he cannot explain why.

It were almost as though he was tempted to say they were born barren, but alas...there is the miscarriage.

Distraught, melancholy and mournful, they return home, to their dainty little cottage at the end of the street, homey and warm, just like the rest of the town. More years pass, and the wife developes a passion for making dolls. China dolls, porcaline, the fine art collectors edition of every type, every race and breed, from the baby-kin, eyes screwed shut and toothless mouths open in eternal silent cries, to the toddler-esque, three feet high, bright eyed and curious. The husband doesn't really understand it, until one night the wife shows him a particularly pretty doll, somewhere between walking and not, sucking on a fragile porcaline lollipop, the colours smearing from her efforts, and whispers to him "Look honey, this is the baby we would have had." He blinks at her in confusion "These are our children, the ones we can't give life to, they are our darling ones...right?" A strange ripple at the nape of his neck, the hairs rising, prompt him to nod in agreement "Of course dear, come, have something to eat."

More years pass, and the number of dolls accumulate, their blankeyed stare filling the rooms, more dolls than furniture, all lovingly handcrafted, a dedication of the wife to each of her 'children'.

Twenty years on, from that mortifying news that they were infertile, and the husband dies. Or rather, is found dead by the cleaning lady one weekend, the wife was at a friends place, buying fabrics for her 'children'. There was a shattered doll beside him, what could be seen it was a younger one, perhaps two or three, eyes screwed up, tears down its little cheeks, and the shattered end of its arm imbedded in the husbands through, imbedded with such force that it came out the other side, the porcaline streaked with blood.

The cleaning lady screams and runs out of the house, calling the police, who upon arrival, before the wife returned home, found strangely, no shattered doll, no arm pushed through the husbands throat -- just a hole where it was, and a pool of drying blood.

The wife, with a few grey hairs now, is thrown into a fit of depression at the news of her husbands death, feverishly turning to her now, only solace -- her children.

Production of the unique dolls comes out as never before, a new one every week, and soon, she can't move for risk of knocking one of the life-sized, realistic creations over and risk shattering them. Two months later, she dies of a heart attack, an unfinished doll in her hands, older looking than any of the others, a girl of around eight, only half of her curling blonde hair was attatched, her face painted to hold infinite sadness, melancholy in her green eyes, and her dress half-sewn yet pulled on, tattered edges showing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Years after the unfortunate couple's death, the doll house still stands, complete with the fortune of now antique dolls, a silent guard, balefully glaring at any who dare try to enter, the door unable to open for the dolls shoved up against it, wedged tight so as to not shatter under a hard shove. Yet strangely, in one room, sitting at one window, is a single doll, half-finished, as though she had been set aside briefly, to be finished at a later date, alone in this one room, watching the comers, watching them leave, alone in the study.

Some say, that lone doll seems mournful when the visitors get turned away, her sad, sad eyes seem to weep real tears when people flee before the glares of the other dolls, all perfect, pristine, finished works of art, crying the innocence of childhood, yet how they glare! It's as though they blame everyone for their mothers death....but that can't be true.

They're just dolls, after all. Attatching emotions to the inanimate is a foolish human trait.

Right?

Sleep

2008-10-10T04:21:00.002+08:00

Sleep is a funny thing lately.

It is elusive, and demanding at the same time.

It is like trying to catch a moonbeam blinding your right eye, with a butterfly net. The moment you go for it, a cloud passes over the face of the moon and that silvery beam of irritating light is gone, and the need is no longer present.

So you relax, pack away your butterfly net, and consider carving a log. You get to the middle of that log, where it is starting to take the shape you see in your imagination, when the cloud passes and that moonbeam is back in your eye, -demanding- that you try and catch it with your butterfly net. You try, and try, but the silver keeps on slipping free, but demanding your attention, until another cloud comes, and you are no longer half-blind from the silken light.

That is about how ....easily...I sleep lately. I meditate, I count sheep, I turn about on my bed as though I was a compass that couldn't find north and still, I do not sleep. Or if I do, it is a doze that lasts a few hours, and I am irritatingly awake again, with that blasted moonbeam -daring- me to try and capture it.

Funny, today....erm, yesterday now, looking at the time, (It's 4.28am), I passed out from exhaustion at say, 10.30am. I had woken the day before at 11.30am. Now, I sprawl out on my bed, dead to the world, well...mostly. The whole daylight thing, and other people being around. I wake up at 1pm, and then at 2.30pm, or there abouts. And funnily enough, that was the best -rest- I have gotten for a very long time. It was lovely.

I get drowsy again at eight, get up, make dinner. Oh dear, no longer drowsy! I get sleepy again at about 10.30pm, I push to 11pm, doing last minute before bed things, like showering, and.....

Lay in bed.

I roll over.

I roll back.

Onto my belly.

Onto my left hand side.

Onto my right hand side.

Onto my back.

I look at the window, and shift so that my head is pointing to it (across the bed), knocking some clothes off in the process.

I roll over.

I roll back.

I doze. Yay, sleep!

Onto my belly.

Onto my back.

I shift so that my -feet- are pointing to the window.

Rinse, wash and repeate. You get the idea.

Five hours later, I give up. Or there abouts. It is exceedingly frustrating. Do you know how -long- it takes for those hours to pass while you stare at the back of your eyelids, the headboard of the bed, the wall, the ceiling, your eyelids some more...

I have reached the conclusion that sleep is highly overrated. Who needs a bedtime anyways? Who -wants- one? We all manage to get some approximation of sleep at around 3am, and wake up again at nine thirty, right? No? Wow, man, you are so -weird-, you should get that checked out ay? Might be serious.

Imagine.

Regularly sleeping every night. My mind boggles!

Oh, and the few moments when I -do- get to sleep (Apart from earlier yesterday when I hit unconsiousness in the middle of the day) I dream. And they're really, really animated and energetic dreams.

People say you dream in black and white. Right. Then why did I dream I had a pet snake, that had a jet black head, and a blood-crimson body? A snake, mind you, that doesn't seem to exist. If anyone knows of a snake with those colourings, be a dear and let me know? I wan't to know what the devil it is.

*sigh* I'm thinking about getting over the counter sleeping pills, since I have a sneaking suspicion that I sleep too much to get prescription tablets, to be declared an insomniac. Who needs to sleep anyways? You can sleep when you're dead!

Funny, this seems to be a recurring topic/occurance with me. Either I sleep too much, (14 hours plus) or, I don't sleep at all. Hmm. Maybe there's something wrong with me.

~ShaedowDancer~

Dream walker

2008-09-27T16:58:00.003+08:00

Far away on a silver skein;
the mirror of your dreams.
Pack away the precious things,
the memories of your past.

Sail along the silken road
searching for the truth.
Destroy the threads of reality;
the secret hidden inside.
Learn to taste the waters,
the flavours of the sky.
Find the truth of reality
in the old sea-turtles cry.

Far away on a silver skein;
the mirror of your dreams.
Pack away the precious things,
the memories of your past.

Walk upon the sunken floor,
the history of the earth.
The shifting tides of eternity
measuring your worth.
Glitter of the floating shell
drifting in the breeze,
to tell the truth of a melody,
look among your dreams.

Far away on a silver skein;
the mirror of your dreams.
Pack away the precious things,
the memories of your past.

Just pack away the treasured things,
the fragile memories of your past.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It's half a song, since I've got the tune in my head, but stuffed if I can put notes to it. Since I kinda can't play anything, nor read sheet music, or write it for that matter. Not like I've got anything to pluck out the notes on -anyways-....

But still, I think it's nice. Just came to my head while I was waiting for the bus to go to ....somewhere. Ah-ha! the city. To buy a book, and get money out to pay my rent. Wrote it on the train, and bus. So it's all good.

Opinions people?

~ShaedowDancer~

Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

2008-09-11T21:01:00.002+08:00

I am so happy at myself!

Okay, update. I am now out of my mother's house, and living on my own, kinda. It's an awesome deal. So that's all good.

Also, today, I bought a tv, dvd player, a stand for the two to rest on, soap, suitcase, headache tablets, milk and yoghurt. Guess the damage?

suitcase = $10

soap = $1.59

headache tablets = $2.something

stand = $20

tv= $99

dvd player = $39

So all told, around $170

which I think, was absolutely fantastic. ^_^ A steal! So, I am very, very happy.

The Theater

2008-08-17T21:44:00.004+08:00

It was dark in the cinemas, but that's not really the right word. Cinema is like the meaning of industry, or a building complex. It brings to mind grey chairs, set in rows on dull blue carpeting with those little flakes of colour, as though someone had shaken sprinkles out onto the blue in an attempt to lighten it, but all it really does is make the blue seem more dull, more grey, more industrialised. Lastly, a massive screen at one end of the room, infront of all those rows of grey, generic chairs, and voila, there is a cinema. Moderately well lit, impersonal, lifeless, just one of a million.

This wasn't a cinema, it was a theater. This had scarlet carpeting, maroon chairs, set in rows, but curved towards the 'stage', where the screen sat, taking up the entire front of the room. There was an upper balcony, where more seats were set, above the lower rows, sectioned into four. There was beige painted murals carved into the woodwork of the ceiling, curtains covered the walls, and the walkways were lit with small lights. This was something alive, built from an era when you went and sat in those cramped rows to see a play, when movies where half an hour long, silent, and something of a treat. When the very act of going to the theater was a social occasion, not a spur of the moment decision. It wasn't well lit, it didn't have generic bulbs set into the walls, the ceiling, no, it had rectangular boxes to mimic the holders of a torch in a medieval castle, giving a murky, shadowed light at best.

A lone individual walks into this atmosphere, the murky, old-seeming lighting, blue jeans, sneakers, and a white t-shirt that says 'your village called, they want their idiot back', a backpack over one shoulder. She -- definitely a she, with breasts pressing against the white cotton, and the curve of her hips within the jeans -- scans the seating before turning and leaving, ascending the stairs to that upper balcony, to see what it felt like sitting where the 'upper crust' would have sat. She sat, leant back in the chair, listening to the imitation classical music with a few lyrics thrown in here and there, not particularly interesting ones, that came from everywhere, and nowhere in particular. It was dark, close, almost claustrophobic or comforting, enough to encourage a doze, and it was empty, from her brief scanning gaze.

She starts to drift off, the soft music, not very riveting, lulling her into dozing, leaving her ignorant -- she's just an average person after all -- and deaf to the soft brush of fabric against the soft felt of one of the seats, the quite whump of a footstep, followed by a couple others as a darker shadow in the murky, isolated lighting moves down the row. Sleep, so soft, soothing, and close, beckons seductively.

A soft thing startles her out of the beckoning arms of sleep, at first, she is unaware of what it was that changed, and she frowns for a few moments, before sitting up, still not seeing the shadow almost at her back. Ah, now she realises what it was that disturbed her, the music was no longer playing. Strange, the previews hadn't started. It was as though for those few seconds, the world had stopped.

She was still confused when a leatherclad hand reaches around from behind the seat, closing over her mouth, another braced against the side of her head, and the soft leather of the cowhide covered hand slides off of her mouth, grips her jaw, she has time for a shrill scream, building to the crescendo but never getting there, cut off abruptly with the harsh crackling of her neck being broken. She is left to slump against the chair, head resettled, staring eyes closed.

Not so empty after all.

Wacked dream

2008-08-09T12:26:00.004+08:00

I haven't mentioned my dreams for a while, so here's one that I had last night, a pearler.

I don't remember how the dream started, but the bit that I remember clearly, was that I needed to get out of this city, but didn't have any money. So a friend of mine took me to this boat thing -- the city is entirely on the water, and it is -very- rare that you need to go on land, so all the automobiles are types of boats, sort of like a jet ski -- and to get money, you slap your hand against where the glove compartment would be infront of the passengers seat, and it would open, extending a digital solid scrabble board. Out the bottom of this is a teeny keyboard, and you type your name into it. You hit enter, and it'd flash and then set into the board. Beside that, a little cup thing would seeeep out and down, open hinge like, and coins would drop into it, depending on the letters in your name depends on what coins you get. Like the common letters, a, e, s, n, and so on, would get a copper coin, l, g, m, and the like would get silver, and the rare letters, x, y, u, z, would get gold coins. A mesh bag would wrap up your coins and you'd take them out, then the board would retract back into the dash. That's how you got your funds.

And then there was a dream jump to a school oval/mall area, me and a male friend, as well as an older female supervisor -- for some reason we were wanted criminals -- had to wait outside on the grass for a while. I found a sandy patch, and first I started drawing things, then I started digging a hole. It was elbow deep before she said we had to go, and she told me that I had to make sure that the sand on top of the hole matched the rest of the sand, they tended to get annoyed if it didn't. So then we went into the mall, building thingy, and one entire SECTION was devoted to ice cream and desserts. He went off to get what he wanted, I was given coins to buy a piece of fudge for the overseer lady, so I did that, but then I had about three, four dollars left over, so I got myself something. It was in a bowl, it was like, 'candy' choices. There was hollow candy, rare candy, and blonde candy flavours. Three scoops, so the rare candy would be vanilla, strawberry and banana, the blonde would be banana, caramel, and carrot or something. So I got one, and pocketed the fudge. Walking outside, she came to me and asked for the fudge, panic! what did I do with it?! I checked my pockets and there it was. I handed it to her, she took a bite "It's cold" before throwing it away.

For some reason, I had to drive a van and it was parked like RIGHT against a wall. Van|wall close. I was like "great parking, how the hell'd the driver get out?!" So I had to crawl in the passenger's side and settle behind the wheel. While this was going on, the supervisor was talking to the other guy, and they screamed 'Gryphon!' just before a really badly wounded one fell onto the van, the beak was at the drivers side window, tapping on the glass when it passed out. "Quick! To the hospital!" shouted the guy, while buckling up.

Dream jump.

160km/h down the road, and I wake up. No idea how I got there or anything, but suddenly in control of a speeding vehicle, swoosh around the corners, spray up of water, trying to keep the unconsious bleeding bird thing from falling off of the van. Then he said, the guy in the passenger seat "Could you worry less about braking and more about stoppign?" and I was like, huh, why? and then the hospital was right THERE. we careeened through the doors, skidding down the hall while I'm like STOOOOOOOOOP!!!! crash.

When we came too, the gryphon was gone, but there was a puddle of blood, we had minor wounds. He went off one way, I went wobbly off the other, and found an icefooty rink. Like normal football (Aussie style that is) Except all the atheletes had to iceskate to do anything. And the 'good guys' were losing because the star player had broken his leg (he was the gryphon, I knew completely that it was the gryphon, but it wasn't, he was human) but it got fixed, and couldn't see. So someone eventually gave him some glasses. Massive things, that took up half the face, a -OO- style, but the round lenses overlapped slightly. And then he wa slike 'yay I can see!' and they won.

And then I decided to wake up.

Walking out of my room my mother just appeared before me and started tugging at my clothes, gesturing, asking if it fitted alright, oh yeah, it does, is it comfy? And I'm like ...huh...? Ice...foot...oh. Pyjamas. Right.

And that is my night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Side note, I've got 'witch doctor' stuck in my head, from the record thing. Like, old school music.

'I went to the witch doctor, he told me what to say, I went to the witch doctor, he told me what to do, my friend the witch doctor, now I'm telling it to you! He said 'ooh ee ooh ah ah, ting tang walla walla bing bom. That's oooh ee ooh ah ah ting tang walla walla bing bom!'

-_- I got it stuck in my head int he middle of my shift at work. I'm like whaaaaaayyyyy?! And how the HELL did it get there?! Lets just face it, friday was one RANDOM day.

I have precognition! Eets skeeery O.x

2008-07-29T19:16:00.002+08:00

MSN conversation.

Balketh just sent you a nudge.
*
Balketh says: <--- Him
BAH!
Balketh says:
Fricking stupid button
There is a saying; Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, but today is a gift -- that's why they call it the present says: <-- me
gah
Balketh says:
I was gonna say I found an awesome new webcomic (Not really 'new', but new to me.)
There is a saying; Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, but today is a gift -- that's why they call it the present says:
lol
Balketh says:
It's shweet...
There is a saying; Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, but today is a gift -- that's why they call it the present says:
www.zapinspace.com <--- spooooooky
Balketh says:
O_o
Balketh says:
How the FUCK did you know that?!
There is a saying; Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, but today is a gift -- that's why they call it the present says:
*grins*
Balketh says:
Seriously, foregoing all smilies, that's the fucking scariest finishing of a sentence I've ever fucking seen.
Balketh says:
I'm creeped right the hell out now.
There is a saying; Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, but today is a gift -- that's why they call it the present says:
*giggles*
Balketh says:
Can you explain to me, please, how you did that?
Balketh says:
Did I tell you of it, and forget?
There is a saying; Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, but today is a gift -- that's why they call it the present says:
I'm telepathic
Balketh says:
Did you tell me of it, and I forgot?
There is a saying; Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, but today is a gift -- that's why they call it the present says:
or more accurately, precognitic.
There is a saying; Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, but today is a gift -- that's why they call it the present says:
hehe, no, I didn't tell you of it.
Balketh says:
>_>
Balketh says:
Seriously, that's the worst case of co-incidence I've ever seen.
Balketh says:
>.<
There is a saying; Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, but today is a gift -- that's why they call it the present says:
haha
There is a saying; Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, but today is a gift -- that's why they call it the present says:
because it wasn't coincidence
Balketh says:
The HELL it wasn't!
Balketh says:
Don't freak me out like this!
There is a saying; Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, but today is a gift -- that's why they call it the present says:
what's you're problem?
There is a saying; Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, but today is a gift -- that's why they call it the present says:
Scared of ESP and stuff like that? :P
Balketh says:
YES.
There is a saying; Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, but today is a gift -- that's why they call it the present says:
why?
Balketh says:
Well, not really 'scared', but just this case if fucking freaky.
Balketh says:
>.>
Balketh says:
its*
There is a saying; Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, but today is a gift -- that's why they call it the present says:
*patpats*
Balketh says:
If you're really telepathic, etc, then the only thing I am is as jealous of you.
There is a saying; Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, but today is a gift -- that's why they call it the present says:
*laughs*
Balketh says:
Remove the as.
There is a saying; Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, but today is a gift -- that's why they call it the present says:
For years, my dreams have become the evening news
Balketh says:
I'm going to not believe that, and not believe anything like that from anyone who can't prove it to me.
Balketh says:
It seriously freaks me out too much.
There is a saying; Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, but today is a gift -- that's why they call it the present says:
hehehe
There is a saying; Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, but today is a gift -- that's why they call it the present says:
y'know, that wasn't the first time I've gotten inside your head :P
Balketh says:
Yeah, I know.
Balketh says:
It's just, that was very, very coincidental.
Balketh says:
I was about to give /you/ the link.

Ooooooh, spooooooookieness! Teehee, he's really freaked now.

My day out!

2008-07-24T20:35:00.003+08:00

Yay I had a day out! That wasn't either work or university XD Which reminds me, it starts next week, joy of joys, yay for getting up at half past sparrows fart. -_-

Anyways, I went out today, and saw a couple movies and bought some stuff. It was fun.

No you silly people! That's not the entirety of my post, you KNOW I'm more verbose than that. Sheesh, what were you thinking?

First and foremost, I have to say this as it's really ironic, I don't know if he does it deliberately, but Xin -- friend of mine, mentioned previously of those that recall him -- seems to have all these wonderful friends that I get along REALLY WELL with. Seriously. Lee, Leigh, however she spells her name, is a whole 147.5cm, which is around 4'10" for those of the american persuasion. So little! Wonderful sense of humour, bright and bubbly and effervescent. I never thought I'd use that word to describe someone, but there you have it. She's got shoulder length brownish hair, about half a foot shorter than me (as mentioned), fair-skinned, and yeah. We got along really well, I feel kinda bad in retrospect, I mean, she's -his- friend after all, and we kinda y'know...sort of made him a third wheel. Oh well.

We went to a couple stores together, he introduced me to JB Hi-fi, which is AWESOME. An electronics store that offers almost as great a variety in cds, dvds, and games as Borders does books! It even has a section for the multimedia devices, ipods, mp3 players, cd players, cameras and earphones etc. As such, we went back to it, and I bought a couple dvd's, Hercules, A Knights Tale, Jekyll (it's a series, VERY good, I've mentioned it previously) and Tales from Earthsea -- an anime. Out of the four, there's only one I'm a bit wary about, and that's the anime. It will most likely be of good quality, granted, it's from ....eboch or somehting, studios, the son of a really good anime writer etc made it, buuut... the Earthsea series? the books? Nooot that great, I found. Perhaps I just couldn't get into them.

Anyways, the first trip was only brief, as we had a movie to catch. Hancock, starring Will Smith. Now, I know people have raved over it yadda yadda, but in all honesty it wasn't that great. Not totally horrid, but not that great either. Limited backstory, the reason explained away by the main characters 'amnesia', which was a rather shoddy excuse, I would have enjoyed the backstory, even if it was flashback. So, without giving too much away, I will say this -- worth the price of admission (around $12), but not the price of buying it. See it in cinema's or rent it if you're too slow, but as a permenant member of your DVD collection? No thankyou.

The second movie I saw, The Dark Knight, a batman film with Heath Ledger as the antagonist and I forget who was the protagonist (batman), but, it wasn't bad. Not great, but neither that bad. Some good CGI (I liked the way his motorbike comes out), and the special effects were pretty good, but the overall plotline? Not that great. Some -great- quotable lines in there, and unforeseen quirks of the storyline, but it was kinda mostly predictable. One of the lines I love;

"Madness is like gravity," (this was from the joker while he was strung upside down, courtesy of a bat-string) "All it needs is a little -push-."

So yeah. This, rent, buy, or see in cinema. The end was lovely, if unexpected, and it almost made me cry. :( BUT! I won't spoil it for you, so go and see it for yourself.

Lets see...what else...

Nope. I think -- oh!

I've grown! I'm slightly taller than I was last time I saw Xin hehe. Rather than him being about two inches taller than me, he's now half an inch. whoo! Go me. Go go go me.

Yes. Now I'm done.

Smile, it confuses people -- what have you been doing?

I just have to share this.

2008-07-19T13:02:00.003+08:00

Sometimes, I wish I wasn't a soft, squishy marshmellow inside. I'm yet to stop crying from this.

Christian the Lion.

The last bit I don't agree with, the whole, get in contact with someone today etc, that irritates, but the rest...*sniffs* so sweet.

That lion totally doesn't remember them. Totally.

What would it be like, to have an affectionate cat twining around your ankles, except that his shoulder is at your waist? Staying upright with the normal domestic cat is enough of a struggle...but my god, how awesome would that be to have a LION demanding the same attention? *cries more*

Slaughter the World

2008-06-02T18:09:00.003+08:00

Credits go to 'Looking for Group' webcomic it would seem, Youtube, Blindferret Entertainment, Ryan Sohmer and someaudioguy.blogspot.com.

and the words!

Excitement abounds
I almost can't wait
Relax, I don't want your baby
I already ate
Though I do tend to generally kill
Kill things that don't fight back

I see this village
What does it hold?
What shall I butcher them with
Fire or cold?

Running from me sure you'd think
'He's a pathological bloodthirsty homicidal maniac!'
I'd kill kittens and puppies and bunnies
I'd maim toddlers and teens and then more

You see a wife? I see a widow
But what then?
Can't you see?
I'd kill four!

I want to incinerate and decapitate
I want to melt
Want to melt some faces
Watching the peasants...what do they call it?
Ahh...grieve!

I suppose that being undead there's not much to life
A soul is needed for loving...feeling...
How does this all not make me...what's that word again?
Heave!

You've nowhere to hide
Nowhere to run
Your village will burn like the heart of the sun!
With infinite glee
It's going to be me
That slaughters the world!

How could I glare into these eyes
And then not stab them?
How could I stare at their loss
And then not laugh?

I'd cut him in half
Then I'd graft
His head back onto his shoulders
Or after I'd lop it
I'd make a puppet
On top of a staff!

I am a lord
that is sometimes bored
Have some urges and need to fulfill them
After my mayhem I simply don't...what's the word?
Care!

The stench in the air
The smell of the gore
The carnage far greater than any war

My legacy
Death becomes...me!
I'll slaughter the world

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ah yes, I think this is funny, and wonderful, and...Hehe, I can see myself so totally taking this on as my motto or something.

'with infinite glee
it is going to be me
that slaughters the world'

Ah...bliss. ^_^

A couple jokes that I think are good...

2008-06-01T01:40:00.003+08:00

Websters Dictionary definition of Windows 95 -

Windows95: n. 32 bit extensions and a graphical shell for a 16 bit patch to an 8 bit operating system originally coded for a 4 bit microprocessor, written by a 2 bit company, that cant stand 1 bit of competition.

Ridge Hall computer assistant; may I help you?"

"Yes, well, Im having trouble with WordPerfect."

"What sort of trouble?"

"Well, I was just typing along, and all of a sudden the words went away."

"Went away?"

"They disappeared."

"Hmm. So what does your screen look like now?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Its blank; it wont accept anything when I type."

"Are you still in WordPerfect, or did you get out?"

"How do I tell?"

"Can you see the C: prompt on the screen?"

"Whats a sea-prompt?"

"Never mind. Can you move the cursor around on the screen?"

"There isn't any cursor, I told you, it wont accept anything I type."

"Does your monitor have a power indicator?"

"What's a monitor?"

"Its the thing with the screen on it that looks like a TV. Does it have a little light that tells you when its on?"

"I don't know."

"Well then, look on the back of the monitor and find where the power cord goes into it. Can you see that?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Great. Follow the cord to the plug, and tell me if its plugged into the wall."

"... ...Yes, it is."

"When you were behind the monitor, did you notice that there were two cables plugged into the back of it, not just one?"

"No."

"Well, there are. I need you to look back there again and find the other cable."

"... ...Okay, here it is."

"Follow it for me, and tell me if its plugged securely into the back of your computer."

"I cant reach."

"Uh huh. Well, can you see if it is?"

"No."

"Even if you maybe put your knee on something and lean way over?"

"Oh, its not because I dont have the right angle - its because its dark."

"Dark?"

"Yes - the office light is off, and the only light I have is coming in from the window."

"Well, turn on the office light then."

"I cant."

"No? Why not?"

"Because theres a power outage."

"A power... A power outage? Ah, Okay, we've got it licked now. Do you still have the boxes and manuals and packing stuff your computer came in?"

"Well, yes, I keep them in the closet."

"Good. Go get them, and unplug your system and pack it up just like it was when you got it. Then take it back to the store you bought it from."

"Really? Is it that bad?"

"Yes, Im afraid it is."

"Well, all right then, I suppose. What do I tell them?"

"Tell them you're too stupid to own a computer."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ah, you have to love the idiots of society. I bet the caller was all righteous and indignant that the 'words went away' too.

Oh, lets all hear it for working from 3pm until 12.30am. Hip hip hurrah, nine and a half hour shift. No break. Hip hip Hurrah.

A Summers Evening and an Autumn Morn.

2008-05-22T00:33:00.004+08:00

(Read the post 'On a Summers Day' first. Then this one'll make ALOT more sense.)

The body was Andrew McPhearson, the child, one Julie Andrews, and enither were the same. One, obviously, went to the morgue to be identified by dental records-- that's all they could use -- the other went catatonic, in order to save itself the mind rejected the cruel world around it and created one of its own devising.

Outwardly she was a silent, simple girl, no interest in interaction of any sort, she ate when forced to and broke her mothers heart by refusing to look at her, but through, always through, fixed on some distant point where crimson-black blood pooled, where dark blow flies droned and the sickly sweet scent of decay filled the air, where all the noise in the world couldn't break the shattering silence of an unvoiced scream.

The media behaved as it is wont to do, flocking and fluttering, scavenging and prying, delving sticky fingers into badly healed -- barely begun to heal -- wounds and pulling the ugly, foul, tittilating bits to a harsh and unforgiving spotlight. As expected, the summers day, bright with life, was replayed, repeated, displayed in a thousand different ways until public opinion deemed the entire thing a hoax, just some family's craving to be on television.

Never mind the shattered family of the deceased, never mind the previous happy, healthy child driven to seek her own world. Neve rmind the anguish the fluttering, craving, prying, uncaring fingers -- and eyes -- of the media caused. It was all a hoax, a plot, a conspiracy, a trick.

The medias loss of interest was a blessing that came too late -- too late for Andrew's family to have the required privacy to mourn, too late for little Julie, who having to relive, and then witness it from a dramatised perspective, listen from a thousand different mouths -- why would anyone desire to remain in such a heartless world? So little Julie refused to make even the little progress she had out of her self-imposed prison, retreating in so far that she barely had any desire to eat, each mouthful swallowed was a hard won victory.

Life went on, as its wont to do, two months passed, three, and the media forgot about Julie Andrews and Andrew McPhearson. Summer changed to Autumn, dusky and brown from bright gold.

It was a crisp Autumn morning, the mist was clinging to the ground and every breath fogged in the air. The scent of winter was in the air, it was a taste on the back of the tongue, crisp, icy, chillingly close with the illusionary softness of snow. Rosy-cheeked from the cold, laughter and playing in the piles of fallen leaves, the child, a little boy, six or seven, ran behind a tree, out of his parents' concerned and watchfully indulgent gaze. All was well.

A peircing scream split the air. Followed by two more, then naught but helpless, hopeless sobbing.

Rushing to look, the mother added her screams to the shattered peace, before dropping to her knees to embrace and rock her sobbing son.

Strung out between two trees in a crude X, head lolled back in the limp, absolute relaxation of the dead and unconsious, was another body.

(Warning for those with tender stomaches, it gets graphic)

The skin, rather than removed completely, had been peeled back to expose the muscle and sinew beneath. Strung out, stretched thin by fish-hooks through the nearly transparant flesh, the light shining through, illuminating veins, capillaries, arteries, trails of brilliant red -- fire-engine red -- blood trailed down from the wounds, slowly seeping lower with each painful second.

The internal organs had been painstakingly, lovingly, removed and strung out, netted and woven among the branches of the two trees, the metres of intestine almost braided, intricate, lace, the stomach caught in the dark grey webbing. The lungs were pulled out of the chest cavity, the ribcage pulled open like some glistening, banded, red and white butterfly, the sternum cut clean through. The heart stretched out, the lungs likewise exposed, two pink sacks hanging, stretched in the air. In this mass was the body, the skin a backdrop for the macabre web, where the own internal organs were the bands that trapped the 'fly'.

It was too cold for the flies, so their droning swarm was absent, no moving black tide of hungry bodies swarming, moving, writhing over flesh and skin alike. The blood dripping, slowly seeping down the skin to plop ever so slowly onto the dry leaves was still wet, still fresh, still warm, still flowing. The strung out, web-captured body jerked and a helpless, hopeless whimper of pain sounded, silencing the sobbing into a gasp of horrified shock.

"Oh Dear God, it's still alive!"

On a Summers Day

2008-05-19T23:04:00.003+08:00

It was the height of summer, the sky was a brilliant, breathtaking blue, the sort of blue that reaches up and DEMANDS your attention. The distant, merry laughter of children filtered through the air, mingled with the birdsong and the drone of busy bees. The world was bursting, overflowing with warmth, life, happiness.

And then the screams started.

Down a little way from the bees, just around the bend from the children, there was a droning. Not the almost musical buzz of the bees, no, this was the heavy, bloated droning of fat blowflies, their brilliant blue back sparkling in the sunlight like morbid jewels. The black with flashing blue tide crawled, buzzed, and swarmed over the ground and a single tree.

The first scream disturbed a few, not many, but enough for their meal to be seen.

A puddle of thick, black as tar blood on the bright green, rich, vibrant grass. More crimson black smears marred the smoothe wood of the tree, splatters and painted strips. But that wasn't what drew the scream, the second one, not of fright like the first, but of horror, of a deep abiding disgust.

Oddly enough, apart from that single, thick puddle, the grass is clean. And it is only the one tree, smeared, specked and caked with the sludgy, viscous, crimson black blood in the small thatch, the rest are clean, pristine, unmarked.

But the source of the blood, concealed beneath those heavy, hungry, shifting black bodies, the lone figure hanging from the branches, bloated in the heat, almost bursting, like some obscene fruit begging to be plucked, that is what drew the second horrified scream that shattered the shocked silence following the first.

For, it wasn't just hanging, covered with droning flies, bloated, tied by the ankles, no, that would be bad enough. But it -- not a man, not a woman, not a child but a dead, bloated buzzing thing -- had been skinned.

(Warning for those of tender stomaches, it gets graphic.)

The head was featureless, eyes gouged out, or rather, surgically removed from the orbits and yanked free. The nose removed, lips likewise, ears, scalp, then each slender strip of flesh carved from the face, leaving a morbid mockery of a skull, blood caked and writhing with flies. Oddly, morbidly, the tongue and throat were left intact, the skinning starting at the collarbones. The arms stripped of flesh as well as skin, bones visible, connected by gleaming sinew and tendon. The ribcage glittering, gleaming through the flies and the thick, black blood. The stomach retained the muscle, holding the bloating of swollen organs within, but the pelvis glimmered. A dark grey rope slithered out, wrapped painstakingly, almost lovingly, around the bones. The legs were simply skinned, simply used as they retained the meat, the flesh, but linked together with steel rods bent around the bones. Just the merest scrap of skin at the edges of the rods give the hint that maybe, just maybe, the victim wasn't dead when impaled ...or worse.

A third scream, high, wild, piteous came from the child, an innocent who went searching for the ball, the peircing, poignant scream of encroaching madness. Because dangling there, bloated, skinned, mutilated, the dead writhing with a mimicry of life, induced by the walking, crawling, buzzing black tide searching beneath the flesh, it seemed to reach for the child, reach with those skinned, fleshless arms.

A fourth scream came, hard on the heels of the third, ringing louder, higher, madness shattering. And as the child screamed, the body swinging, buzzing, bloated, flies taking their crimson black meal, the corpse screamed too.

How to say 'farewell' to $300+ in 30 seconds flat.

2008-05-17T00:26:00.002+08:00

That's $10 a second. Steal.

I have realised, discovered really I suppose, that I am a very very bad impulse buyer. Most impulse buyers buy -little- things, on whim. Like chocolates while standing at the counter, stuff like that. Not me, nooooo, I behave myself, I limit myself to $50 a week for food and drinks and stuff, for MONTHS and painstakingly save, build up my bank account and everything aand... for what? For my account to hit the $400 mark and I go ooooh, I'm rich! So I go and buy stuff.

Like today. I took out $100, bought three books ($60), and, what I lament the most in buying on whim, is a PSP and a game. Because you see, it doesn't stop there! Oh no! I have to buy a memory stick and a cover as well, since my PSP will spend the majority of time in my backpack -- on the theory that I'll spend less on books if I've got a new toy to play with. And shame on you that thought I should buy naughty toys to play with! Yes, I mean -you-.

So alas, I am broke. For a week. Then I'll be rich with $200 of pay...and broke. To pay bills. Then a bit richer....then more broke. It'll take me a little while of doing sweet stuff all to build my bank account up to comfortable levels. Meaning that I can impulse buy expensive things that the majority of people would save up for months to purchase and pet and drool over.

I'm the worst kind of impulse buyer -- the rich kind. :(

Pause

2008-05-12T14:21:00.002+08:00

Pause. Take a deep breath and just pause.

Wait. Take the time to centre yourself.

Close your eyes, listen to the sound of your inner voice.

Silence it.

Be surrounded by the sound of your breath.

In...and...out....

and in....and...out...

Calm. Breathe. Listen. Remember.

Remember the sound of the wind through the trees on a gentle, sleepy, summers day.

Remember that soothing, peaceful feeling you got, or get, in falling asleep on one of your parents'. So safe, and warm, and contented. The gentle stroking of a loving hand through your hair, how it soothed you, made you smile in your sleep, made you drift off even if you were wide awake.

Now pause.

Take that feeling, that moment, that serenity and envelope yourself with it, snuggle into it like a soft, warm blanket on a cold winters night.

Remember.

Hold it with you, always. So that when the world intrudes with its stresses and anxiety and demands for attention, NOW, you can shunt it off to one side and be wrapped in that muffling, soft, warm serenity of peace.

Don't you just looooove...

2008-05-10T15:10:00.002+08:00

The way that bookstores have the BEGINNING of a series, and the END of that same series, but y'know, it's missing the MIDDLE of said series? By say, four books?

Yeah, its wonderful.

Another thing that's absolutely wonderful is the way people at work tend to expect -one- person to -always- do something, say for example, serve customers in the dead end of the night with no help, and, then consequently, yell at said person for not getting their jobs done. Isn't it just darling and wonderful?

No matter where I am rostered during the shift, out front, on drive pack, in the drive box, at the end of the night, guranteed, I will be the SOLE PERSON serving customers. So I'll run from one end of the store to the other to serve customers, and then get yelled at when I yell for someone to take lobby. I get "can't you do it?!" and I'm like ...um no, I have a few CARS TO SERVE. And they get all huffy but serve. Or, if they don't, I dart between two people, packing two things at once, and then when the customers complain, and the boss starts chewing my ass out, I retort and say YOU get someone else to help! I have to do my stuffing jobs, and it's a bit hard when you've gotta be in TWO PLACES AT ONCE.

Or it'd be a classic, someone calls "ANGELA, customers!" and I'd yell back "I can't, I was meant to go home an hour ago and I've still got MY JOBS TO DO." then there's the whole 'customers come first' ..yeah. Why do they only come first for ME and not anyone else? Argh!

I'm just a little ticked off, in case you can't tell. Seriously, I think I'll get a new job. Doing something simple, and easy, and friendly, like ...5 star waitressing or something. Y'know what's really funny though? I'm one of the ONLY people that does, and knows, our policy and actively does it, as well as our promos and whatnot, I know the menus BETTER than the managers, and yet, yet, I am the sole exemption from this prize doohicky we're doing, because I supposedly, once, just ONCE, gave a customer 'attitude' and was 'rude' to her, when y'know, it was the middle of the dinner rush and I was doing bloody six things at once, running lobby and two trainees at the same time. Isn't it wonderful, that I'm currently, supposedly, on the bottom of the bloody ladder in this rank thingy, and I'm one of the BEST PEOPLE THEY HAVE.

So yeah. It's just wonderful. Fan-bloody-tastic.

Oh, I've also completely dumped my boyfriend. I took him back for a whole two days because I felt horrid, as the last post tells, and this time I felt much better about it and all. So now he hates me, or wants to or something, but I'm good. I'm a bit too stressed out over uni (six things due over two weeks, lovely, now I've got an extension, so one due this week, another due next) to be worrying overmuch about my private life. Its no big after all.

I'm seriously considering quitting and finding another job. Like, seriously. Even though I'm lazy and it involves writing, updating my resume, which is a pain. But hey, it's all good. I might even get paid more, y'never know, what with working in fast food and all.

Yeah, I think that about covers the majority of things, and I'm gonna go ...do something... before I get more irate and punch the wall. I kinda need both of my hands in working order.

Shatter

2008-04-17T11:58:00.002+08:00

It’s funny you know, at how swiftly you can go from being relatively normal to the brink of shattering, to where you have to hold onto yourself so very very tight, tight enough that your teeth grind against each other and your bones squeak in protest, yet if you let go, if you relax, you’ll shatter. Shatter into a million teeny tiny pieces that will never be picked up again, put back together, because each shard is sharp enough to kill, sharp enough to die, sharp enough to hurt and not care.

I almost shattered last night, shattered into those teeny tiny pieces, shattered because...well... because I hate myself. I really do. I’m horrid. My boyfriend will now no doubt agree with me, I’m a dreadful heartless bitch. Too distant to be touched, too distant from reality to care about others. I don’t know. I ...I warned him. I told him, I don’t care easily, I cannot love. Not the way you would love, or anyone else for that matter. My ‘love’ is selfish, it’s simply really a desire to not be so alone. But then, I deserve to be alone. I deserve to be single all my life, a spinster, a hermit, someone that goes to work then comes home and immerses herself in the electronic banalities of society.

I don’t have friends. Not really. I have people I interact with on a routine basis. Those I talk to occasionally in/before/after class, the occasional chat I have while working, perhaps a talk with my mother, the brief interactions with the people online, but that is all. I don’t ...stress I suppose you could say, that I don’t have a clique of friends to spend the weekends with – I’m usually working anyways so it’s no big.

But...

Well. If -you- are the one that is initiating a break up, aren't -you- supposed to be not effected by it? I don't know. I've never.... I...

I really can't...I don't know. I'm shattering again, I can watch the fractures creep across the fragile inner me, creep creep ...spike...crack. Crawl across who I am like a disease, or the way that glass can crack into a million pieces just before it falls from the window. I'm ...afraid. Terrified. If I let myself shatter, if I ...stop desperately holding myself together, containing what I am, then my shattering will be fatal. And it scares me. It scares me so very very much.

If you had said to me, two days ago 'tomorrow you're going to try and dump your boyfriend and the day after see suicide looming as a very great possibility on the horizon' I would have laughed. I wouldn't have believed you. Two days ago, breaking up with him wasn't on my mind, I would have had a thousand other things hammering for attention -- movies to watch, books to read, or assignments to do which are still glaring at me in their unfinishedness. Suicide? yeah right, that was -last- year, I'm good this year. I've been to a counsellor, I'm 'fixed' or something.

But now ....

I can see it. I can see it through the fractures. If they fall, there won't be anything between me and ... I'm terrified to shatter, petrified. I don't want to shatter, I don't want to be nothing but depression and hate so I'm holding the flaws, holding the hate to me, holding it so tightly that my arms are aching, my teeth squeak against each other as I grind my jaw, my lungs are short of breath from the so tight grip I have on myself, that tight, fist hold that I need to have.

And already ....I know ...I can see ...I can't keep this iron grip forever. One day, something is going to knock me, nudge that fragile fracturing and all my careful grip has done was stave off the inevitable, and I'll shatter.

I'll shatter into a thousand, million, teeny tiny pieces of hurt, of hate, of self-loathing. One part of my mind is trying to deny this, deny that I'm so absolutely terrible, but it is a small part. A very small ...quiet...voice saying 'no no no, you're not. You're better!' and it's over powered by the voice that says 'you're a piece of worthless shit, you have no heart, you're heartless, empty and filled with a black, cold void of nothing. There is no light, no life, no love. You -deserve- to be hurting like this, you deserve to be hated, you deserve to be alone. You don't deserve him. You don't deserve anybody. It's only a matter of time until the world realises how very worthless and pathetic you are. You've done the deed, or at least he thinks so, and is hurting because of YOU. You don't want to hurt any body? Keep going like you are and you'll hurt EVERYBODY and they'll hate you. And you deserve it. You know you do. Because you're just a worthless piece of shit, a fat, stupid, pathetic piece of shit. You didn't even THINK of giving him a call to break up, rather than doing it over an IM, you piece of shit, you piece of fucking shit, you're the dirt -beneath- the shit, not even worth that much. Fucker. Deal with the fucking consequences you idiot, you fucking worthless pile of emptiness. You don't deserve any body. You don't deserve to be comforted -- after all, you brought this on yourself. He didn't initiate it, -you- did, so deal with the consequences of being worthless, of less than a fucking piece of shit.'

And that little, tiny voice is getting quieter 'no no no, you're not, you're better!' so quiet that I have to strain to hear it ...while the other is louder, getting louder all the time. 'YOU FUCKING PIECE OF WORTHLESS SHIT. YOU DON'T DESERVE ANYTHING, DO YOU? YEAH, YOU AGREE WITH ME YOU PIECE OF SHIT'

'no no, you're better!'

Piece of fucking shit. Stop your fucking crying you worthless whore, think anybody cares? YOU DID THIS. You don't deserve anything. You deserve to be alone.

No no, you deserve more, everyone deserves someone to hold them...

PIECE OF FUCKING SHIT. YOU DON'T DESERVE ANYONE, DESERVE TO BE ALONE, LONELY, HATED AND HATING AND HURTING. AND YOU FUCKING -KNOW IT-

Ah...breakups.

2008-04-16T16:09:00.002+08:00

Yes...yes. My boyfriend of 9 months ...or something like that ...is being broken up with. And I don't know how to do it!

I mean, I like him and all but...we've got next to nothing in common, and the distance and all ... So our conversations, when they happen, have been all 'hi, how was your day?' and he'd talk at me about his day, then, the reverse would happen for me. And...that's pretty much it. With the odd comment about dinner, or his dad or....y'know?

Not exactly the most riveting of things, understandably.

And we talk -at- each other. Not too. I've got nothing to say about what he says, and he's got nothing to say about what I say. We're strangers that know each other slightly well.

I don't want to hurt him, I don't have anyone waiting on the wings or anything, it's just....I'm bored. I don't know. Gah!

I knew that we didn't have much in common, but it wasn't a problem before! now...i don't know why, but it is. He adores me and all -- except at the moment I'm his least favourite person, understandably -- and because of that I don't want to hurt him...but...I don't want him as my boyfriend any more.

Friend is fine, like, a cuddle friend or ...y'know? The protective sort, but not a boyfriend. There's something wrong with me, he's wonderful really, sweet, kind, patient -- god knows he's patient -- and willing and a hard worker and all things that would make a wonderful provider for a family, the sort of loyal, dependable male that most girls are supposed to crave in a male, stability and everything and... I don't want that. I don't know why, but he's not the sort of male that I can see myself living with really. He's just....gah. I don't know. Looking at this I'm like....why am I breaking up? And my reply is that I don't know, but what I -do- know, is that well...it's stagnated. It's gotten flat. All the buzz and bubble popped out while I wasn't looking.

I just...

Don't know what to do.

Ah...the world is a wonderful place.

2008-04-10T00:10:00.002+08:00

Children groomed for sex by polygamist sect: official

Wednesday Apr 9 09:17 AEST

Hundreds of young girls removed from a polygamist sect in Texas were being groomed to accept sex with adult men as soon as they reached puberty, officials said in court records released overnight.

Girls as young as 13 were "spiritually married" to men on the compound and forced to have sex with them "for the purpose of having children," according to an affidavit by an investigator with the Texas Department of Family and Protective Services.

A number of young girls who were pregnant or had recently given birth were discovered on the ranch after a desperate call for help was made by a 16-year-old girl who was pregnant again just eight months after giving birth to the child of her 50-year-old husband.

"There is a pervasive pattern and practice of indoctrinating and grooming minor female children to accept spiritual marriages to adult male members of the YFZ (Yearn For Zion) Ranch resulting in them being sexually abused," investigator Lynn McFadden told the court.

"Similarly, minor boys residing on the YFZ Ranch, after they become adults, are spiritually married to minor female children and engage in sexual relationships with them, resulting in them being sexual perpetrators," she said.

"This pattern and practice places all of the children located at the YFZ Ranch, both male and female, to risk of emotional, physical and/or sexual abuse."

More than 400 children were removed from the 1,700 acre (688 hectare) ranch owned by the Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints during a dayslong raid which began Thursday.

They are being held in a historic fort in nearby San Angelo, Texas along with more than 130 women, most of them mothers, who left the compound.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Teens charged over YouTube cheerleader bashing

Wednesday Apr 9 07:04 AEST

Eight teenagers have been arrested and charged with beating another teen in an "animalistic attack" so they could make a videotape to post on YouTube.

Seven of the accused remained in juvenile detention on Tuesday, authorities said. A boy who was charged as an adult had been released on bail.

Victoria Lindsay was attacked on March 30 by six teenage girls when she arrived at a friend's home, authorities said.

One of the girls struck the 16-year-old cheerleader on the head several times and then slammed her head into a wall, knocking her unconscious, according to an arrest report.

Later, according to a clip of the video that was released by the Polk County sheriff's office, the teens can be seen blocking a door and hitting Victoria.

"It's absolutely an animalistic attack," Sheriff Grady Judd said Tuesday on NBC television's Today show. "They lured her into the home for express purpose of filming the attack and posting it on the internet."

Victoria's father, Patrick Lindsay, said the teens intended to post the video on the video-sharing website YouTube.

Christina Garcia, mother of one of the defendants, said her daughter had turned the tape over to police.

The sheriff's office said that after the attack, three of the teens forced the victim into a vehicle and drove her to another location, where she was told she would be given a worse beating if she contacted police.

All eight suspects were arrested April 2 and charged with battery and false imprisonment. The three teens who took Lindsay to the second location are also charged with felony kidnapping.

Lindsay was treated for a concussion, damage to her left eye and left ear, and numerous bruises, police said.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Isn't the world a lovely, darling, -wonderful- place? Doesn't this just INSPIRE you to go out and ...love...your fellow man? Love them so much that they get a great big love hole in the back of their head from your shotgun of love? Yes, we all want to love our fellow man. Some of us though, *sigh* sadly, cannot do it. So the few that have the skills, and guns enough to endow our fellow man with proof of our love, must bear such a horrible, horrible burden.

Share the love people, go out and share the LOVE you have for your fellow man. Share until they cannot move from the awe of your love. From the blinding impact of reality, of the obvious in that 'oh god! I am so LOVED'.

On a brighter note, I -love- multiple choice tests. (No sarcasm this time :P) They're like sooo.....not hard. You don't have to strain your brain coming up with adequate, coherent and cohesive answers, you just colour in a little dot. It's wonderful. You've got a 25% chance of getting it right, and when you're told that it's usually B or C that's a 50% chance of passing, 25% chance of failing, and a 25% chance of being a progedy and getting them all right! Whoo, lets aim for 100% lotto slikpick!

But MAN wednesdays are -killing- me. Get up at 6.30, get home at 11.30pm and, liek now for example, be asleep by MAYBE 1am. Ugh. Tired.

Lets vote to get rid of Hump day! It's not the start of the week, nor the end, it's the hump in the middle. Remove Hump day!

I'm 18 now.

2008-04-06T17:23:00.004+08:00

And it's delightful and boring at the same time. There's this ...thrill... as you walk around, knowing that there is literally nothing you can't do. You're a legal adult, you can go to pubs, nightclubs, adult stores, vote, drive, gamble ...the world is open to you! You can go conquer the world and no one can tell you not to!

Yet....yet at the same time you feel exactly the same. I'm exactly the same as I was two days ago, yet I can do so much -more-. Like drink legally.

Speaking of drinking, it was hell funny on my birthday (yesterday, April 5th). My mothers boyfriend, Shane, tried to get me drunk. He wanted to get me seriously maggoted, plastered, well marinated so that I was, quote, 'wurring my slurds' or, slurring my words. Well....that was the plan.

Such a pity that Shane fell asleep on the couch after four glasses non? Mind you, there was a shot between each glass, Baileys and milk mmm. I got mildly tipsy, but that's about it.

What'd I get? A 9carat gold bangle from my mum, a 24carat or something, necklace and pendant(a heart with a butterfly, the body of the butterfly one side of the heart) from my boyfriend, and a platinum (white gold) necklace from my dad, that has more diamonds in it than metal! It is -very- nice. Very flash. I love it! all my lovely shinies.

And NO, I didn't get a hang over. I drank lots of water, well, not lots, but some, and that combated the dehydration. I'm tiptop and raring to go, so much so that I'd been up for 15 minutes and had started on some homework I had to do. Law homework none the less, so not exactly easy.

Which brings me to now, or rather, later today. I discovered (was pointed to) a poor girl that would be the poster child for reasons to have an abortion...

http://i.somethingawful.com//sasbi/2006/08/elpintogrande/
04-julianabirth.jpg

(copy and paste, the link is fragmented)

It is real. Very real. Poor Juliana.

This is an extreme example of Treacher's Collins Syndrome. It's similar to having a cleft palate but instead of missing just the roof of your mouth, you're missing your entire mouth. And in the case of Juliana, jaw, orbit bones (thats what the eye sits in) and basically everything that's below the cranium.

You always get advocates as to why you -shouldn't- abort a child well...No offence to my religious friends, but consider what happens when you -don't-. Juliana, as sad as this sounds, should have been aborted. She's had to have surgery to breathe properly, and think of the stigmatism, the ostracizing, the hate, the bullying, the general mean nature of children, -and- adults that she'll get through out her life because of something she cannot change? The flinch and aversion of eyes that -everyone- will give her on first meeting? She has a completely cognitive, coherent mind, no brain damage, and there in lies the true tragedy. She will know, exactly, that she is different, she is less, she is considered to be 'deformed'. And there's not alot surgery can do to help her. there's nothing for bone to be grafted onto, nothing for plastic and metal to be supported from.

She'll have to spend her entire life like this, living as a 'freak of nature', because of lobbyists voting for the right to life. Ever considered that creatures that wouldn't live without our technological advances, shouldn't? I'm not going against abortion mind you, if the mother was a victim of a rape and a child is the result, abortion is fine. If its just cost, adoption. Likewise for the 'oops', adopt the child out if you don't want it.

Euthanasia. People that are too sick to live, have fatal illnesses and that the only way for them to exist longer is in a vegetative state with machines breathing for them, pumping and filtering their blood, feeding them, stretched out through pain an endless cycle of pain, should be allowed to die. The extremely old and infirm, where the body has given up but science wont concede the fight, people who are in a coma for years and years and years with 0% chance of waking up should have the plug pulled on them. You can't kill something that is nothing more than a body lying there performing bodily functions like breathing. It's not possible.

How is it humane to keep another in a state of agony, of perpetual existance where all they can do is listen to the beeping of machines and watch the shadows move over the ceiling?

My themesong.

2008-03-29T00:05:00.002+08:00

Bad Boy by Cascada.

Remember the feelings, remember the day
My stone heart was breaking
My love ran away
This moment I knew I would be someone else
My love turned around and I fell

Be my bad boy, be my man
Be my week-end lover
But don't be my friend
You can be my bad boy
But understand
That I don't need you in my life again

Won't you be my bad boy, be my man
Be my week-end lover
But don't be my friend
You can be my bad boy
But understand
That I don't need you again
[Bad Boy lyrics on http://www.metrolyrics.com]

No I don't need you again

Bad boy!

You once made this promise
To stay by my side
But after some time you just pushed me aside
You never thought that a girl could be strong
Now I'll show you how to go on

Be my bad boy, be my man
Be my week-end lover
But don't be my friend
You can be my bad boy
But understand
That I don't need you in my life again

Won't you be my bad boy, be my man
Be my week-end lover
But don't be my friend
You can be my bad boy
But understand
That I don't need you again
No I don't need you again

And the song with lyrics. Yay for youtube ^_^

I just, personally, think that this song is absolutely me. It's wonderful. I adore it. <3 src="http://www.metrolyrics.com/images/l/569864765.jpg" height="1" width="1">

Two things...

2008-03-26T14:38:00.003+08:00

One, mucho importante! It's my birthday in a week and three days from today. That's April 5th if you're being lazy. I'm soooooo excited. I'll be 18!!!!!!!

Two, I'm hyper. Okay that makes three points...bear with me, I'll get to the third! Getting up at 6.30am isn't fun. I hate mornings. They were only invented to stop night and afternoon from bumping into each other (note, it goes afternoon, EVENING, night) so, at 2.45pm I had a mocha. On the theory that when I get home from work tonight, I'll actually be able to sleep!!

Lets see how well that works out. I'm actually tired, again, now, but with that buzzing that tells me I won't be able to sleep. Y'know when your sleep isn't actually -sleep-, where you spend periods of deeper unconsiousness interspaced with listening to the wind and the creaking of the house? Asleep but aware? That's what the majority of my 'sleep' last night was like. Hence why I had caffeine.

Aaand the second (now third) thing. A poem!

(don't blame me if its dodgy, it's the caffeine)

Picture on the Wall.

Picture on the wall
you tore my love away,
made him sail away
sail to the distant shore
and forget all about me.

Places of mystery,
land where there's gold,
rubies, dragons and fortune,
and he forgot about me.
Forgot me,
for you,
you picture on the wall.

Pictures of far away places,
places of mythology.
Where dragons, unicorns,
monsters dare to roam.

For far away places
my love sailed away,
was torn away,
by you,
you picture on the wall.

Paintings of promises,
promises of lies,
lies of beauty,
illusions to reach for.

With promised illusions,
beautiful lies,
my love sailed away.
Went away,
left and forgot me,
forgot the world he knew.
For you,
you picture on the wall.

The king promised a fortune,
I got a penny; now a pauper,
waiting for my love to return.
Return from far away lands,
in a painting on the wall,
from you,
you picture on the wall.

The Grassy Hill

2008-03-13T20:37:00.005+08:00

‘See that hill, the one hidden away, out of sight?

If you sit and wait, quiet-like, watching till night,

you might see something few have seen before,

a rare vision gleaned straight from old folk-lore.

A something hidden, something secret,

something I doubt you will ever forget.

‘Hush now, the sun has finally gone,

do you hear it, that faint wafting song?

Sit sit, do not move, else you might not see

this mystery, this beauty I know you want to be.

Look there! Do you see it, see the slight change?

Patience now, if you want to see it, you will manage.

‘Do you see them as they peer out,

searching for watchers they’re sure to be about?

The little creatures that shy from Man,

yet are found all throughout the land.

They search the grass around their little door,

though they freeze at what they think they saw.

‘Hush, hush. Ah! Here she comes from below

the minuscule little lady that runs this show.

The regally glowing Queen of the creatures hidden

beneath the surface of mortal woes to gladden

the heavy heart with joyful dreams

where nothing is what it seems.

‘She throws gleefully coloured balls

deep within her soil crafted halls,

where all the creatures come to dance

and hope to make a memorable entrance

before their delicate crystal Queen,

Ruler of the Realm of the Mortal Dream.

‘There, you see her now, her crystal form

glinting in the moonlight as though torn

from the mysteries of a half remembered dream,

a delicate nightmare that makes you want to scream?

Do you see her, the delicate crystal beauty of her,

and in seeing the ethereal beauty of her, do you fear her?

‘Now, now, don’t look at me like that

you know this is not fantasy, but fact.

Can you not feel the urge, feel the need

to turn and run with a blood-curdling scream?

Her fragile form holds an ice-cold heart,

you would know this, if you were smart.

‘See her subjects, as bright as bright can be

dancing joyous in coloured gaiety,

they twirl, spin and dance,

their performance’s sole purpose is to entrance

the unseen watcher beneath the full-moon

knowing that helpless, they will come out of hiding soon.

‘There, the magic is set, the trap is ready,

will you resist, though the urge to move is heady?

You want to join them, surely there is no harm,

not a movement, not a twitch that might cause alarm?

The twirling dance goes on and on

moving to the distant wafting song.

‘Your finger twitches, tapping in time with the soft beat

and before long, it is joined by both your feet.

Go on then, go and join them. Stand.

For after all, you are only a mortal Man.

So stand and go, yes you will,

and dance with them, into the grassy hill.’

Some faint sense twines through the spell

as the hill closed behind him, tolling a death-knell.

He turns and tries to run and flee

but the song snatches him up with glee

and gently sweeps clean his mind;

till there is not a thought to find.

‘Welcome to my Realm, the world beneath the surface,

a world filled with lies and endless grace.

You shall know, no more, no hate nor joy.

Well mortal, did you like my crystal decoy?

There, there, mortal, no need to cry

though you will never again see the sky.

‘Little mortal, you came to me willingly,

though I lured you with words, you see

there is none to blame but yourself,

but you will not grow old and placed on a shelf,

this age is yours to forever enjoy

while you spend eternity as my mortal toy.’

And in so hearing the mortal cried,

wept for the death longed for and denied.

Their fate sealed as they danced under the hill,

not knowing the Queen moved in for the kill.

Now they spend eternity at the feet of the Ice-Queen

soundlessly screaming, in this nightmare of a Dream.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I don't recall if I've posted this previously, but I think I have. It is a nice poem none the less, I think in any case, so I'll post it twice, just to bask in my own brilliance. Yes, arrogant of me I know, but I'm allowed to be arrogant, at least a little I think. If not, sue me.

I had a relevation today, by the way, a startling one indeed. My sense of time is -extremely- screwy. Like, the passage of it doesn't matter a whole heap to me. Something obvious, for instance: the Twin Towers. 9/11 2001. I'm like...that wasn't that long ago, was it? It was only two or three years ago, right? I'm -sure- I was older than 11 when it happened...

And a friend of mine, who got married and is now onto kid number two. I was like wait...hold up, wasn't she only just pregnant and talking about baby stuff? WEREN'T YOU ONLY JUST MARRIED!? it hasn't been 9 months yet, has it? And he's like heh, yeah. Kid two has just come.

O.o

I lament my sense of time. It is very bad. Why? Why do I have issues with time when I am a very organised person?! Whyyyy?

Sweeney Todd

2008-03-08T23:50:00.005+08:00

'There's a hole in the world like a great black pit
and the vermin of the world inhabit it
and it's morals aren't worth what a pig could spit
And it goes by the name of London.
At the top of the hole sit the previlaged few
Making mock of the vermin in the lonely zoo
turning beauty to filth and greed...
I too have sailed the world and seen its wonders,
for the cruelty of men is as wonderous as Peru
but there's no place like London!'

' Mrs. Lovett

A customer!
Wait! What's your rush?
What's your hurry?
You gave me such a...
fright! I thought you was a ghost!
Half a minute, can't ya sit?
Sit ya down!
Sit!
All I meant is that I haven't seen a customer for weeks.
Did ya come here for a pie, sir?
Do forgive me if my head's a little vague.
Ugh!
What is that?
But you'd think we had the plague.
From the way that people
keep avoiding!
No you don't!
Heaven knows I try, sir!
But there's no one comes in even to inhale!
Right you are, sir, would you like a drop of ale?
Mind you I can hardly blame them!
These are probably the worst pies in London.
I know why nobody cares to take them!
I should know!
I make them!
But good? No...
The worst pies in London...
Even that's polite! The worst pies in London!
If you doubt it take a bite!

Sweeney Todd (spoken)

Ugh!

Mrs. Lovett (sung)

Is that just, disgusting?
You have to concede it!
It's nothing but crusting!
Here drink this, you'll need it.
The worst pies in London
And no wonder with the price of meat
what it is
when you get it.
Never thought I'd live to see the day.
Men'd think it was a treat
findin' poor
animals
what are dyin' in the street.
Mrs. Mooney has a pie shop.
Does a business, but I notice something weird.
Lately, all her neighbors cats have disappeared.
Have to hand it to her!
What I calls,
enterprise!
Poppin' pussies into pies!
Wouldn't do in my shop!
Just the thought of it's enough to make you sick!
And I'm telling you them pussycats is quick.
No denying times is hard, sir!
Even harder than the worst pies in London.
Only lard and nothing more-
Is that just revolting?
All greasy and gritty?
It looks like it's molting!
And tastes like...we'll pity.
A woman alone...with limited wind
And the worst pies in London!

Ah sir, times is hard,
times is hard...'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~``

I was going back through my posts, adding tags and whatnot, when I noticed this one and was all...omg...I never posted it! Just a draft! Tsk tsk, bad me!

~ShaedowDancer~

What's the colour of a two cent coin?

2008-02-26T20:33:00.002+08:00

(sung to the theme of 'camptown racetrack')

Coppa....coppa...

Clad in blue and in pairs they roam; Oh the two cent coin!

It's funny y'know, the amount of two cent coins that wander around train stations as the sun is going down/after it has set. You'd think they'd be around more during peak, when y'know, people can steal handbags and the like easier. But no, places where you're lucky to see TWO, you see eight at 9.30pm where there is like NO ONE AROUND.

But hey, it's all good.

Oh! Uni. I am having a BLAST. It is so much fun ^_^ Fair enough we haven't done anything much yet, and I've seen the course doohickies...outlines, for two subjects, essay in week four, report in week six, another essay in week eight, and week ten, and a report in week....sometime after that XD

Um...Oh! I got a couple of books for my courses, and four ringbound -- you know the sort with a wire forming the 'rings' and working its way down the spine of the book? -- notebooks and three pens. Damage? $145 all told. Only $25 was for the notebooks and the pens. -_- this is for ONE subject mind, and not even all of the books for one of them! ...well, two and a half subjects then.

Tomorrow is a horrible, horrible day. My first class starts at 9.30am. Do you know what that means? That means that I have to get up at 6 IN THE FREAKING MORNING to get there on time! Considering that I have been late for the start of all my classes so far....this is not looking good people.

And I've so far found Uni to be way EASIER than highschool, even my final two years when there's all this stress and stuff to perform. Sure, sometimes the times suck royally, but I'm only there for an average of....what, 3 hours a day? Four hours travel time for three hours of lecture...bleh...but seriously. You get BREAKS in the middle of the lecture! And they rarely (so far) haven't completely filled up all the time, we get to leave 15, 10, minutes before time, have a drink, a quick snack, and then onto the next part or go home! It's absolutely WONDERFUL. I <3 university ^_^ (college, for you yanks)

Moonshine...

2008-02-24T00:03:00.004+08:00

It's a late night,
late in the moonshine,
too late for sunshine
I fear.

It's a dark time,
dark in the starlight,
dark in the moonlight,
too dark to see.

Silent shine,
shimmer and glow,
cover the now
in moonshine.

It's a dark night,
a lack of moonlight,
a hint of starlight,
hiding below.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lets all cheer for a super-short poem from Yours Truely. It is...1.05am and I really should be sleeping, instead I am typing up a post on my blog, my mind is spinning with half formed thoughts of what to say -- maybe I shouldn't have had an iced coffee before working tonight -- and it takes real effort to -- did you know that I like flying? there's something effortless about gliding through the air, no friction, no resistance like you get from the hard ground -- keep what I'm saying coherent. Or even mostly.

At work tonight -- because over the last three days I've had a grand total of seven hours sleep -- well, more before work, I had an iced coffee. I'm starting to think that maybe I shouldn't have -- it was to keep me active at work, and now, with nothing to burn off the excess -- think three year old on a sugar high drinking red cordial -- I'm a little bit whacked out. As you can no doubt tell from the way my sentences jump from topic to topic and back again.

Oh, work. Right. -On- track this time >_> --that reminds me of a joke, two blondes are walking down a path when they come across some tracks. One pipes up 'Oh! it must be kangaroo tracks' the other argues 'no, it's emu tracks'...back and forth, back and forth they argue, hours, 'emu tracks' 'kangaroo tracks!' until, while they were arguing, they got hit by a train -- sad fact of blondes really, that I can see that happening. Where was I? Work!

There was me, the manager, and one kitchen hand.... out of about nine people working, that were -not- trainees. Fun fun. I was on drive pack, and the person that was 'helping' me was a kitchenhand getting crosstrained and OH MY GOD was everything slow! It was absolutely horrid! I couldn't concentrate, couldn't focus, and took FOREVER to get rid of cars -- mind you the timer was broken so I don't know how long it actually took -- but seriously! -- did you know that when you're watching the clock, your perception of time changes and a minute -feels- as though it has lasted longer than it really has? -- like watching a pot boil. You know the adage, a watched pot never boils? It actually does, it takes exactly the same amount of time, it just -seems- like forever -- I did it again didn't I? Went off on a completely irrelevant tangent? -- A tangent is a 45 degree angle from the intended path -- oh! oh oh oh!

A friend of mine, who is absolutely brilliant, I think, in the way the genuine intellectuals are -- no common sense what so ever -- managed to fail his English Lit exam. I'm like O_O how the devil did you do that? I was generally lucky to scrape through on 55% all year, and he was up in the 80's+ range. And he -failed-. Got 40% or something like that. How's that for screwy? I mean seriously, GO FIGURE.

In other news, Uni starts on moooonday and my ever so wonderful mother dearest THREW OUT my timetable. Lucky for her, I wroted it down! ...Just not, y'know, -where- my classes are, just the times. Ah well, I'll print out another timetable and staple it someplace so she -can't- throw it out (I'd magneted it to the fridge as IMPORTANT INFORMATION and she threw it out!!!! garrar! alskdfagnawoeiWELFFKASDGNWELASDKFNAGOWESD!!!! Pronounce that ha!

Al-sked-fagna-wo-eee-well-fehkasd-deg-n-welas-duhkfna-go-wes'd.

hehe, that was fun.

I Think I'll stop now, before I degenerate from random to disturbed.

First day on campus.

2008-02-18T18:28:00.002+08:00

Okay. Simple procedure, get to Joondalup ECU and enrol. No problem, expect to be home again by 2pm. Right?

Right....?

Wrong.

First problem in a day that was one, massive headache. The train wasn't going from perth to Joondalup, I had to catch a bus substitute first. Sure, no problem. Catch the bus to Sternville or something, catch the train from there to Joondalup.

Twenty minutes after arriving at said station....the train rocks up.

No problem, boarding the train, ridign the train...get to joondalup train station at around...10.40am ish. Okay. Catch the Joondalup CAT (freebus) to the uni or you could just walk the guy said. Riiight. First, I went the -wrong way- out of the station, then over the -wrong- side of the bridge, turned around, saw said bus, and had to cross a bridge to catch it.

No problem.

Next issue: find the admin or something to enrol.

Across and THROUGH the campus later...We find the library. The library points me to the psych building, so I toddle over to the next building, get set up and start to decide whether to do two minors (Which I wanted to be languages, but it's a rather bad idea to be learning two new languages at once...you tend to jumble them up) or a double major. Yay for double major!

So we go back to the window, they say 'oh, you have to go down to student central and get -them- to do this' ....where is it? 'just down the stairs, across the parking lot. It's the big building over there.'

Great directions, no?

So, we go down the stairs (that were in the building) across the parking lot aaand....there are -three- buildings. Lovely. Eeeny meeny miney...nope, wrong first shot.

Second? Ah-ha! Gold!

Write down my name and wait in line....and wait....and we go to a desk whoo!

They enrol me in three units, the fourth is full, but no problem! You just have to go back to your faculty and get them to sign this. ...which faculty? 'the one you were just at'

great, a criminology subject and we go to psychology for a signature. no, we can't sign this, it's not our department. I've emailed and talked to people, it should be open tomorrow, just come back then. -_- Do you sense a theme here people?

So, me being the stubborn lass I am...and the fact that I don't really want to have to return there so soon if I don't have to, I went over to the library and asked for where the crimonolgy people were...they didn't know, so sent me to student central. They sent me to building 2. No problem. One little walk, one signature, and we're out of here!

Wrong.

See, I walk up to building two (45 minutes after first getting told that I had to get a signature mind you) and ask them to sign it. They say we can't, your lecturer has to. Who's the lecturer, where can I find them?

I get a post it note, with his name and room number on it, and the course code. No problem. Rooom 2.407. ...where is room 2.407?

Student Central to the rescueee!!!!

Room 2.407 is in the building I just left. -_- Except they point me to the other side, I ask for a signature, they say 'no can do, have to get the lecturer' so I walk over the other side, (it's a short walk, maybe 20m) hop in an elevator and go up four stories.

Room 401, 403, 404....407 is...empty. No desk, no chair, no nothing. This is -so- very helpful. Not.

Back to Student Central. Where is he?! 'room 2.407' he is not, I've just beeene there, it's eeeempty. "um..." I take a ticket and wait in line...wait...and go and see a lady that helps me out. She's brillaint. B..something. African. She got the lecturer on the phone and I got a REAL room that he was at! 8.504 Building 8, floor five, room 4. We are in business!

...where's building 8?

oh, that far away? *sigh* I go for another walkies, get lost three times, walk AROUND where I'm supposed to be twice.... and finally find building 8. Problem. The elevator only has four floors, we need -five-. Go up, newp, no luck, go down. Ask for directions. 'Oh, you need the next wing. Just out that door and left until you reach the next wing'

So we go left. Walking walking walking.....that's another building. Where's this wing again? Turn around....ooh! Elevator. Lets go up.

It has five buttons bonus! It's even for building 8, double bonus!

We goes up....and walks to the room, and he's in there yus! (Drat, I've just realised that I got sunburnt. Poo) Get the signature, and he sets up enough so that I'm enrolled and all, I walk back to student central, take a ticket and wait...and wait....and wait. 20 minutes later, I get seen yay!

All enrolled and everything and...timetable? Oh, just log into this SIMU thing, or something like that, and print it out. Great. No problem. Username....?

Um.

Username....?

Damnit.

To cut a long story short (even though it's getting to the end) I have to go up to the library, twice more, once to get my username, a second time to get my student id (dodgy picture...ugh) and then....we go! Almost

Had to run back and see what date the lectures started and everything. So pleh.

Times! 11am, we get told to get a signature. 2pm, we get said signature. 3.30pm, we leave the campus.

Yay.

Four day week, monday, tuesday, wednesday, friday. Not too horrible.

Moonwalker

2008-02-17T18:15:00.003+08:00

Now, I'm not an avid MJ fan or protagonist. I've got, quite frankly, next to no opinion on him, apart from pity. I pity the fact that he adored this one woman enough to have surgery to look like her, even though he denies it, I pity what has happened to him, and I pity the way public opinion has effected him, but I do not hate him, I do not think he actually molested any child, and neither do I really think he was....as great as the records say. I find the songs written by him, for him, as later years, were annoying, fake sounding. Too high to be real. Falsetto always jarrs my teeth.

Some of the other songs he's sung however, those where his voice is in the lower octaves rather than so high, -those- I prefer, because to me, they don't sound...put apon if you know what I mean? Stretching his voice -too- high simply because its what people expect of his voice, you know?

Anyways, what brought this about was a movie by MJ, (Michael Jackson for anyone a little clueless) called Moonwalker. It's an old movie, made back before the media circus started up, back when he was loved by everyone. There's an adventure tale in the middle of it, between concerts and other musical things, that he wrote. It is very very good, considering the age of it, and that he wasn't a professional... but in it, one thing struck out at me. He loved children. Not in the perverted sense, but in the way a big brother would love a younger sibling. There is no 'love interest' that the bad guy kidnaps to get MJ to walk into a trap, but rather a small girl, about 8 or so. The other main characters, on the good side, are two boys. Children.

You can see it, in the way the script is written, the screen play, the acting.... it was genuine. He adored children, loved them as friends, younger siblings. Doted on them. That, I think, more than anything else, proves in my mind that the furor that brought about the bad rep for MJ was just a scam. He loved childred, adored them, not lusted after them.

In the contrast of selves, from how he is in the movie, smiling, cheerful, bubbly almost, to how he is now, withdrawn, silent, avoiding contact with people...it makes me sad, to think that on the word of -one- mother, saying what supposedly happened to her son taken as solid gold -without- medical tests to prove anything (lets forget for now that MJ is castrated to keep his voice high), the world, generally as a whole, turned its back on one of the greastest musical geniuses of the age. Look at his video clips, we have hiphop, RnB, almost break dancing before there were even words for the motions, the concepts weren't even considered....it was just what MJ did, like the moonwalk.

And how his legs were made of elastic rubber and totally not attached to his hips.

It disheartens me, at how cynical the world has become...how cruel.

How very pointless everything you do, or have done, is, when one wrong word, one foul rumour, could ruin your entire life in the blinking of an eye.

The Sum of...

2008-02-10T12:50:00.002+08:00

all our parts.

What makes us, us? Why are humans on the top of the food chain? What makes us individual, how are we made into that individuality?

Are we but a sum of all our parts? And what are these 'parts'? The physical, arms, leg, head, torso, waist, feet, hands, fingers, eyes, nose, mouth, ears? Or is it something else, is it the intangiable, our senses? Touch, taste, scent, sight, and hearing?

What are our personalities? What forms them, what is the equation that gives out the sum of all our parts?

Back on our senses....what about the telepathy, empathy, precognition? The ESP qualities? Are people that have these of a higher evolutionary tract, or a lower one? Have they developed something the most of us do not have, or are they merely listening to their instincts more? Their 'gut feeling' that the higher thinking and evolution of mankind has out thought the need for. It's something to consider, isn't it?

What are the sum of all our parts, and is the sum the same for all of us....or is it the equation that gives us our detail, our differences? What are the parts we're considering...why are some people better at math than the arts, languages than the sciences? Why is there a disparity between the sexes? The way either gender thinks is completely alien to the other...why?

Don't you just love it when I get philosophical and 'deep'? In other news, I have a new laptop, and it is -awesome-. Has. Everything. You name it, my laptop has it, can do it. <3 Bluetooth, wireless, numerous usb ports, camera, mic, ....literally, everything that is the current rage. <3

Been working for 8 days straight now, so i'm a bit tired, just a little, but it's a 42 hour week, yay for 12 hours overtime, 2 time and a half, 10 double time. Lotsa monies ^_^ Uni is happening, yay for an hour travelling time because I can't really move out just yet, unless an aunt of mine (who works at the uni I'm going to) agrees to pick me up (and let me live with her, save on fuel and all that) So....yeah.

I think that's about it, oh, melbourne was a blast, even though there are ALOT of people in melbourne and I'm crowd phobic. Me and my boyfriend discovered that as I got all snarly and grrr and bitey at the invasions of personal space. That was amusing. Not.

That's about all I can say for now peoples, keep smiling and all that, things could be worse.

The Black Day Book

2008-01-22T14:42:00.000+08:00

I'm sure quite a few of you know of the Blue Day Book by Bradly Trevor Greive? Quite a lovely book actually, with animal pictures and things, well, the Black Day Book is um...similar to that. Except well...here, I'll give you the lines that are in it, it's disturbing.

Any day can be a black day.

These are the days when you know you're a mere speck on the earth

when you are no longer able to delude yourself that there is a point to it all.

Life is a slog, and some days are beyond endurance.

When you're stuck in traffic,

the elements conspire against you,

your flight is cancelled.

You need to decide if you will let the world push you around,

or if you will fight back.

On black days the world is against you.

It's right that you feel paranoid.

The panic rises,

frantically you search for comfort in all the wrong places, (baby duck on a rabbit hee)

you feel abandoned in a scorching desert

and dread lurks over your shoulder.

...and so on. I'll just skip to the end where it um...'cheers you up'.

Dont let yourself become one of those gentle souls who wants to save the world. Is it really worth saving? What with pollution and the hole in the ozone layer, global warming, overpopulation, the threat of terrorism (I find it ironic that the picture is a bald eagle...), war, karaoke, and aging rock stars who just wont quit. But worst of all there's love. Which inevitably leads to heartbreak, hate-mail, emotional baggage, paranoia, sleeping alone, insecurity, loneliness and despair.

So how can you avoid the nauseating feeling that you're sliding into a pool of squalid slime? Its simple. Avoid people. They're only going to hurt you. Lose your ambition. It wont get you anywhere. Remember that you are -always- right, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Never say you're sorry. Don't worry about other people. They need to grow up and look after themselves. Make scary faces at small children. Sleep alot -- it kills time. Stop worrying about your personal appearance, nobody notices you anyway. Avoid positive people, they're just deluding themselves. Why worry about consequences? If you're lucky, today might be your last. Sit back and watch life pass you by. What are you really going to miss? Just another black day.

yeah, to save on space I put the pages into paragraphs >_> Now, is this a book supposed to cheer you up or what?

Braincell count....

2008-01-17T16:26:00.000+08:00

-10 and falling.

http://www.weebls-stuff.com/toons/death+kitty+and+the+fat+man/

http://www.weebls-stuff.com/toons/Animator+vs+Animation/

http://www.weebls-stuff.com/toons/Animator+vs+Animation+2/

http://www.weebls-stuff.com/toons/ultimate+showdown/

http://www.weebls-stuff.com/toons/salad+fingers/

^ <3 salad fingers.

Click on the links, they are awesome clips! Oh, happy side note, I GOT IN!!! Yep, I got into uni, got my 1st preference, in a joondalup campus to ECU in Psychology, BA(psych) whoo! Go me.

http://seehere.blogspot.com/2006/08/strange-and-funny-signs.html

http://www.weebls-stuff.com/toons/scampi/

http://www.weebls-stuff.com/toons/badgers/

http://www.flowgo.com/funny/2113_baby-maybelline.html

http://www.flowgo.com/funny/5103_midnight-piddle-parody.html

Enjoy teh braindrainign I have.

Menagerie

2008-01-14T08:53:00.001+08:00

Melbourne = really odd dreams.

It all starts in a museum like menagerie, all the animals are dead and stuffed, kept behind chicken mesh enclosures. A thin, green tarp covers all the enclosures, keeping them in a cool green glow, and it is -very- important that it is kept on, and covered. Why? Well...you'll find out.

Someone didn't tie a corner of that tarp down properly, or at all really, and the wind picks up the spiderweb mesh, uncovering the menagerie statues and....they stop becoming statues. At first it's no big thing, marsupials like rats, and mice, going onto the larger ones, the bilby, thylacine...and other ones that I don't know the names of, stretch and ...break open the doors to their cages. Cue me standing there going 'oops...oh no.' as they start to wander, scamper and generally mess around.

And the 'oh no' changes to 'oh shit' as the carnivores and bigger things start to wake up. Like the moa bird. That thing is -huge- and pecks at me. I decide the floor is a very NOT good place to be, and clamber up the partition between one cage and the next. I'm happily sitting here, watching the enclosures being uncovered, the big cats start prowling, you know, the sabre toothed kind, before a dinosaur, diplodocus to those that know the thunder lizards, barges by and I start 'oh shit'ing in earnest. With valid reason too, as the t-rex wakes up and starts thud....thud...thudding down the walkway between the two rows of enclosures.

There's one enclosure holding something -larger- than the king of the dinosaurs, and it wakes up too...I don't actually -see- this massive crocodile leave its enclosure, I only saw the nose...picture a round snout the size of a volkswagon beetle slowly emerging into the light while a t-rex looks at you.

Which would have -more- of your attention?

Yep, the t-rex. Oddly enough, they don't look -down- their snout, they have to dip their snout and look from the top of their head, to focus the two eyes in binocular vision. Really ...disturbing. And me going, oh shit oh shitohshiiiiiit as it snaps at me. Mad scramble back and thud on the hay of an empty enclosure...well, mostly empty. Giraffes are -niiiiice-. I like Giraffes. T-rexes don't, they ignore the longlegged food supplies to go for the human girl scrambling back through the legs.

And...lets skip the massive runrunrunrun DUCK runrunrun part to where I hide in the swan enclosure. Yes, the swan enclosure. And the drake hisses at me because I almost disturbed the missus who was sitting on her clutch. A sorry and a squeeeze into the box that holds a different nest, so I'm sitting -next- to the dry grass thing, hoping that the t-rex wont' find me.

A monkey boy caveman thing drops in, looks at me all scrunched back into the box and asks "Are you comfortable?"

"Yeah...I'm fine." I reply with a bit of a bemused look on my face

"you don't -look- comfortable."

"Thats because I'm hiding, look, go pat the swans!"

He does, and thud....thud...thud the t-rex is back. And of course, he stops right by the swans enclosure, dips his head -really- close to the ground, twists, and looks straight at me. Snarl, snap, box is captures in those jaws, bottom drops out and I thud on the floor as he struggles with the wood. Bolt for the little door at the back to get into the service way and...thudthudthudthud

How the DEVIL can the t-rex get from INFRONT of the enclosures to the BACK of the enclosures, going AROUND all of the enclosures and past that giant crocodile which is now sitting up on its tail, bouncing and going 'deedly deedly dee' at me FASTER than I can get through -one- little door?

Repeat about five times before, brainwave! lets shut and lock the chickenmesh door that it was slipping through!

....

It went -through- the doors regardless. Two broken doors now.

That worked.

Not.

It's about now that I decide to wake up. You can only say 'oh shit' and 'that is -so- not fair' so many times, run your lungs out and be absolutely terrified so many times before it gets a bit boring.

My boyfriend asked why I woke up in the morning (after I woke the whole house by setting off the alarm to let the cat in >_<), my response? 'I got sick of being chased by a t-rex'.

Irritation

2008-01-10T10:47:00.000+08:00

Yes, I am irritated today. Do you know why? Of course not, so I am going to rant my little head off telling you about it.

Yesterday, my mothers boyfriend decided to ride me, again, about cleaning up my room. Yeah, like there is alot I can do with the two metre square room I've got, chuck in two dressers, a book case, a bed and a washbasket, a box that holds a complete kitchen kit (apart from the kitchen sink and plates...literally) that is about oh...a metre cubed, and I'm lucky to get a walkway of floor! See, he was taking in some washing, I went out and offered to help, he said 'why don't you do something productive, and clean your room.' that went down well, not.

But! be proud of me. All I did was growl.

And then, I went to work, still a bit riled, only to get snarled at by the manager (I'm kinda sick of having to clock in early y'know) because I wasn't immediately out the front, and when I was on the WAY OUT THERE, he kept on saying that I was going out there to replace another worker. I'm like, yep, I know. Yeah, okay. Grar! Serve the customers, clear the line and, lo and behold, I'm off lobby to pack for drive thru. Yay. -_-

Not one of my happier days, let me assure you.

And, to top it all off, this entire wonderful situation of working 8 days straight, I didn't sleep last night. Hip hip hurrah, lets hear it for insomnia!

Flying over to Melbourne tomorrow to spend two weeks with my boyfriend, yay, should be good. Note to self; don't go 8 days only eating once every three while working your arse off, you tend to feel a bit light headed.

Hummmmmm......I think that's about all of it, I can't think of anything else to write and isn't this just a pleasant little update for you lot? Oh, and I'm not getting any closer to having a new laptop, alas, funds are a bit short and I'm around $500 in debt to daddy dearest to pay for airfares. Joy of joys. Maybe...maybe when I get my tax return, I'll get myself a laptop, a belated birthday present to me from me. Yay. -_-

Ah...the joys of being quoted.

2007-12-29T12:22:00.000+08:00

Xin, Derrick here, couldn't help following the link in your post. another warning, slight metaphysic ahead.

anyway i'll try to cover what i haven't yet in my comment on your spaces blog. start off with a quote.

"the only difference between an enlightened man and an unenlightened one is that one knows it, while the other does not."

no philosophy is flawed. they simply exist. if you can discard all notions of flaw and flawlessness, that is good, because you are what you are. if you cannot, and remain concerned about whether you are following a "correct" philosophy, that is also good, because you are still what you are. we cannot judge a philosopher to be "better" than a hedonist, because the existence of both is essential for the existence of the universe. you could use the idea of "God's plan" as a metaphor- the current existence is perfect, because it is the only possible existence.

personally i feel that there is nothing more to know other than what i already know. my existence in the universe serves to bring about the continuation of the universe. if i did not exist- but i cannot not exist, because i exist. since i am a part of a perfect system, i am perfect. i know that i cannot know everything, and that knowledge is enough.

and if people choose not to get around that concept, so let them be. if they are the happier for it, then good for them.

i'm not saying that all moral judgements are irrelevant- i am not exactly a nihilist. i only believe that everything that happens happens because it must happen, and thus this existence is perfect. it doesn't make me happy, but i am glad in knowing that i am not happy because i was meant to be sad.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Obviously, that comment wasn't for me. Yay for people with multiple blogs assuming that -others- keep multiple blogs. A little common sense please, when something from ANOTHER BLOG is quoted WITH A LINK to that blog, isn't it -generally- safe to assume that the OTHER BLOG is by, shock horror, SOMEONE ELSE?!

Nevar! who ever heard of such a thing? Preposterous!

So, be a doll Xin dear, and pass this on to him hmm? Cheers.

Patriotism

2007-12-27T19:03:00.000+08:00

I came from the dream time, from the dusty red soil plains,
I am the ancient heart – the keeper of the flame,
I stood upon the rocky shore, I watched the tall ships come,
For forty thousand years I'd been the first Australian.

We are one but we are many
And from all the lands on earth we come,
we share a dream,
And sing with one voice,
I am, you are, we are Australian.

I came upon the prison ship bound down by iron chains
I cleared the land, endured the lash and waited for the rains.
I'm a settler, I'm a farmer's wife on a dry and barren run
A convict then a free man, I became Australian.

I'm the daughter of a digger who sought the mother lode
The girl became a woman on the long and dusty road
I'm a child of the depression, I saw the good times come
I'm a bushy, I'm a battler, I am Australian.

We are one but we are many
And from all the lands on earth we come,
we share a dream,
And sing with one voice,
I am, you are, we are Australian.

I'm a teller of stories, I'm a singer of songs
I am Albert Namatjira, and I paint the ghostly gums
I am Clancy on his horse, I'm Ned Kelly on the run
I'm the one who waltzed Matilda, I am Australian.

I'm the hot wind from the desert, I'm the black soil of the plains
I'm the mountains and the valleys, I'm the drought and flooding rains
I am the rock, I am the sky, the rivers when they run
The spirit of this great land, I am Australian.

We are one but we are many
And from all the lands on earth we come,
we share a dream,
And sing with one voice,
I am, you are, we are Australian.

The lyrics, and then the song, of what I consider to be -the- australian song. I love it, I honestly think it should be our national anthem, rather than what is, look it up if you want to, it has something like five stanza's and each one is as boring as the one before, if not more so. I'm as patriotic as they come, but seriously, our anthem sucks. 'Advance Australia Fair' ugh, waaay too british. No offence to any Brits that read my blog, I don't recall if there are any though...

Anyways, I've been meaning to make this post for a long time now, ever since my graduation night actually (17th October) as it was one of the songs sung there, everytime I hear it, I get a tingle in my skin and I sigh. I think, -yes- this is Australia, not whatever image the rest of the world has of us. We're not convicts, we're not tail-end extentions of the British Empire, and no matter how much our (old) PM was kissing Bush's arse, we're not bloody yanks! We are AUSTRALIAN and the rest of the world can go get stood on, we're here, and we're here to stay.

I mean, yeah, sure, we can take a joke as well as anyone, as far as I'm concerned, its fair game if I complain about something about Australia, it's my right as I live here, it's my country. Sure, we've got a population density that is virtually non-existent, sure we've got only 20 million people or so living here, London Town alone has more than that, but we're mostly desert, so if any more people come here we're gonna start dying of DEHYDRATION. No offence Xin, I love you dearly, but sometimes the Asian idea that we've got all this useless space and we're just being mean by preventing immigrants -really- annoys me. Seriously, I want to get some of those boat people and dump them in the unpopulated middle of Australia to show them why the bloody hell we can't fit any more in! Deserts aren't really prime living areas y'know.

Back on track, you Americans'll know what I mean really when I talk about patriotism, its something that's kinda lacking, in the majority, here. A friend of mine decided to be funny one night, he was american, and started crapping on about my country, saying that we didn't have proper 'music' but listened to digeredoo's and stuff like that. Sure, the first five minutes I could laugh along with him and all, but after an hour I was starting to get -seriously- annoyed. So much so that I ended up saying 'if you say one more thing to degrade my country, you are going to be limping home, -if- I decide to let you walk. I don't crap on your country, you don't crap on mine. You feel me?' And considering that I can pull out this awesome glare and intimidation trick (he was about half a foot taller than me) he backed off rather swiftly. After I'd calmed down I explained it in short, simple sentences that he'd understand. You mock my country and I feel about the same amount of rage that America felt when the Twin Towers went down.

He apologised and we moved on. Let that be a warning to you, -all- of you, do NOT degrade Australia, don't insult it, don't call it a pile of shit, a prison, anything like that because you're liable to get a few broken teeth, if you're lucky. Now, I'm not a violent person, I'm not actively agressive, but push the right buttons...

So yeah. I love Australia, complete with the poxy weather, the deserts, the scrub, the lack of people, the isolation, the friendly nature, and I am proud to stand up tall, strut and say I am AUSTRALIAN and the rest of you just -wish- you were.

We are

2007-12-24T21:31:00.002+08:00

Sometimes, there are moments in your life when you have to just sit down, take a breather, relax, and literally smell the roses. Go outside, right now, sit down in the shade of some tree and smell the life around you, smell the grass, the tree you sit below, or, if you live in a city, sit in your garden, out in your back yard, gaze up at the sky and watch the clouds drift by. Are they white, fluffy things, like cottonballs stuck up on a blue poster? Or are they streaks like combed wool? Is there a storm brewing, grey ominous things grumbling across the sky, or are there no clouds at all? Is the sky a warm blue, or a cold one? Does the grass smell fresh, or sour? Can you hear the run of traffic or of birds in the distance? Inhale slowly, can you smell the sea, or the dust of the country, or even the dampness of fertile earth?

Did you do that? Are you calmer now? Did the eternal cycle, the patience, of nature fill you? No? Take your time, our lives are full of stresses, full of struggle, so much so that we have to count every single minute as it slips away from us, as though that moment in time was too precious to let pass unremarked upon. Have you ever stood at the window and let the hours pass you by as you do nothing more than merely watch the world turn, the wind rustle the leaves and shadows make their stately march along the ground? No?

I think, that humans make to much of their life, everyone wants to leave their mark on the world, have they ever considered that with so many marks left, soon there’ll be no world left to mark? Immortality, be it by the written word, memory, or the afterlife according to the various religions, might not be such a great aim to shoot for. What assurance is there, that there is life after death? Why is there the assurance that you, or I, will go to Heaven, Hell, or even be reincarnated, but there is not that same universal assurance that my cat has something to look forward to, that this is all the life they get?

Why is it that the Buddhists revere life so much that they refuse to take the life of even a bug, and eat naught but plants, berries and seeds…when the wolf, the fox, the tiger, take the meat they need? Should not they revere life in –all- it’s forms? Are the predators considered evil then, for eating the flesh of another creature, how can they be when it is but their nature? And humans, are omnivores, they eat both plants –and- meat, so by refusing to eat meat, which would go against the reverence all life has, they are denying part of themselves, aren’t they? And, even the eating of plants, requires them to die, for their potential to regrow be snuffed out forever, such is the consequences of life, such is what occurs no matter how much respect you pile upon the apple you are eating….that is six or more potential trees you are destroying, because you have to eat.

Why must everything be measured, weighed, assessed as good or bad, why cannot it simply be? What is done, made, is of nothing more than matter. Alcohol, drugs, gold; these are but things, drugs are ‘bad’, alcohol is ‘evil’, gold is the root of all greed…but they are mere things, neither good nor bad, they just are.

Just as people are neither good, nor bad, they just are. Sure, some are more disliked than others, but that doesn’t change that they are. Everyone just is, everyone is the same, it’s the choices we make that differ us, but even then, it is all we are. Not good, not bad, just there.

Re: Your Brains/skullcrusher mountain

2007-12-24T15:00:00.001+08:00

You know, I think I love Jonathan Coulton's songs....they're awesome. And these clips are pretty good too.

Summation of whatever the day before christmas. Whoo. Hip hip yarrah and all that.

The Christmas Spirit

2007-12-23T13:36:00.000+08:00

Be the best you can be all year long,
behave yourself as a good child
and never, ever, ever to nothing wrong,
on christmas day you can go wild.

Bring the gifts, the presents, the food,
a family, your friends, all that gear
open a bottle and toss back the booze,
to celebrate the loss of another year.

.....yeah, I'm not into this whole, Christmas spirit thing. For me, it's far to commercialised. The metre for measuring happiness is an artificial tree bedecked in shiny things in a living room, underneath which there needs to be a mountain and a half of gifts.

Sorry, just a bit....yeah. Things aren't going very well for me at the moment, honestly.

The Future Soon...

2007-12-20T15:05:00.000+08:00

Awesome flick. Awesome song actually, but yeah.

Let's see, i am at my dads at the moment, yay for semi constant internet access...for two weeks. *sighs* I'm honestly sick of the world, and everything within it. It's like...i've reached the end of my patience for anything. For people, for the inanities and banalities of life. Although that song is neat, The Future Soon.... brings a note of hope to things, doesn't it?

I'm in an odd mood today, at the moment, melancholy. I want to play my harp, yet I do not have one. I want to play my flute, yet I do not have one, I want to play a piano, yet, again, i do not have one. I should not know how to play -any- of these, yet I do. I have had no lessons in music, ever, yet ...I want to fill the air with the notes of my creation, fill my ears with the pure melody that I have within and....I cannot.

It is very disheartening.

Sail beyond.

2007-12-06T11:42:00.001+08:00

Sail upon the midnight sky,
walk the waters of eternity,
swim amongst the sands of time
and there is where you'll find me.

Encased within an isle of water,
buried beneath a heart of fire
burning in the land of death,
throbbing with the blaze of desire.

Sing a song of purity
with the blackest of hearts,
tell a tale of solemnity
with laughter from the start.

Find me, free me, ask me a boon;
tell me, taunt me, give me your sword;
hate me, love me, burn from within--
only then will I give you my word.

Tell you the secrets you crave,
the knowledge I have seen,
what you want, what you need;
where you have been.

Every boon must have a price,
and every price must be paid
for what is lost should be replaced,
else nothing but sorrow will be gained.

So wary, ever wary,
ever cautious must you be,
if you seek the land of death
to ask a boon of me.

Written shortly after watching pirates of the carribean three -- awesome movie, a must see I reckon, solely for the marriage scene. They're on this ship, fighting, Will asks Elizabeth to marry him.

"I don't think now's the time."

"Now may be the ONLY time." Clash, clang, sword fighting fishery sailors.

"So what's your answer? Will you marry me?" <-- still will.

"Barbosa!" <-- Elizabeth

"What?"

"Marry us!"

"I'm a little BUSY." See, Barbosa is fighting off the Flying Dutchman's fishy crew as well.

"NOW." Don't argue with elizabeth.

Barbosa jumps up on the bit of wood before the wheel and says "Dearly beloved, we're gathere here --" Clash, sword slice, Will and Elizabeth fight hand in hand, twirling around each other and stuff "Will, do you take her--"

"I, will turner, take Elizabeth swan to be my wife."

More fighting.

"Elizabeth, do you..." more fighting by barbosa

"I Elizabeth Swan, take you to be my husband in sickness and in health" sword swing fight fight "Health being the less likely--" more fighting.

"I captain barbosa now pronounce you man and wife, you may kiss the--" he has to jump down and fight some more "You may kiss...." more fighting. "Just kiss!"

I love it. <3

Nosediving computers, yay!

2007-11-29T17:33:00.000+08:00

Okay peoples, here's a rundown as to why I have been conspicuously absent from you all, alas.

Trust me, it has been as horrid for me as it no doubt has been for you, at least, I like to think that it has been horrid. What happened was I was home alone late at night and the cat came in. It was 9.30pm and I'm like ack! cat she has to be inside!!! so I set my laptop aside, jump up to catch her. The phone cord leading from the wall jack to my laptop somehow managed to get wraped around my third toe, consequently causing me to trip, the phone cord to jerk out of the plug that was in my laptop, leaving the plug inside -and- encouraging my laptop to take flying lessons.

And the cat bolted outside so I'm like, SHIT, this is -seriously- not my day.

I turn around and look at my now wonderfully expensive paperweight, the nosedive from the couch to the floor means that it has issues with booting up, as in, it doesn't. And if it -does- manage to stop being a paperweight and load up as a computer, we have all of...10 minutes or so before it decides nooo, too much effort to be a computer and...bzzt, crashed and shut down and I'm rather frustrated.

So yes, we have issues with things today. I'm working my little butt off to save up for a new laptop, I have one deposited on and the xmas stuff all bought so that's well and good, so yeah. I ought to be on around xmas, as I'm going up to my dad's then and he has a computer that works (yay). So that's from the 20th of Dec til the 2nd of Januarary, or for you americans, 19th evening till New Years day. You spastic people.

Good news, my bf from melbourne has been up for the past week, which is great, except it's really hard to argue with someone about going somewhere, or staying someplace when they tend to pick you up. It kinda negates your argument. Annoyingly.

Ah well, that's the update of my rather sad and crappy little life, so yeah... missing you all and lots of love from yours truely, tata!

Saturday

2007-11-12T11:54:00.000+08:00

I have reached the conclusion, which will most likely be highly offensive to the majority who read my blog, but it's there all the same, is that men are complete and utter idiots. Seriously so.

What caused this realisation? I hate to steriotype, but an 'ex'-muslim pakistani. Things didn't start out to well from the beginning for the simple fact that he can't quite get his head around that in Australia, things are done DIFFERENTLY. For one, women are NOT lesser beings and that any arrogant toerag that thinks that way needs to have his gonads removed, PAINFULLY.

As you can tell, I am in a very -not- good mood.

I met Ali, (the toerag) on saturday as a favour to him, he'd been bugging me for about a month straight to meet him and it was -really- getting on my nerves. So I met him, and he promptly started behaving how a boyfriend would, y'know, insisting on holding hands, wanting to hug, (first it was a kiss, but he dropped that for...fifteen minutes....when I threatened to rearrange his face) and I was like...hell no, dude, we are MEETING not going on a date, FUCK OFF. But, alas, he exhibited a spectacular display in density and somehow missed that little ...hint.

So we got lost for a bit, and then went to a timezone, that was fine. I've still got the timezone card. He of course, got bored with whatever game he COULDN'T beat me at, (he was yet to find one that he could) and kept on dragging me away from them when I was still having my turn which was -really- pissing me off. When he wanted to leave, I reminded him that he has some picture things on his card and whatnot, and he used it as an excuse to fucking kiss me. Which got him an elbow in the ribs and a glare. We went for a wander, back to St Georges Terrace, for those that know their way around perth, and I found Borders (Thanks Xin!!!), it was wonderful....an absolutely MASSIVE bookstore. He of course, had no interest whatso ever in it, and dragged me out again to go to a -really- crappy cinema, no, -theatre- to watch an actually pretty good movie. The Game Plan with The Rock in it. I loved it, he hated it because it wasn't porn.

And, because he wasn't interested in it, he wanted to use the film as an excuse to grope me. BAD idea, -very- bad idea. He almost got a black eye because it was such a bad idea. Of course, he sullked after that. I didn't really care, I was enjoying the movie.

After the movie, I poofled on him, as in, walked swiftly towards a security guard (I'd gotten lost) and asked where Borders was. This was after the...fourth time he'd told me that he was going home. I mean dude, when you SAY you are going to do something, bloody well do it! Don't fuck around.

Gah. So, I got a book, which was good, he called me asking where I was so I brought him into borders. I went looking for another book while he tried to pull the whole boyfriend trick again, and as I was walking away from him, looking at books the idiot grabbed my arms, spun me around and then retained grip on one of my arms. Rather than answering to his demand of 'why don't you want to talk to me?!' I simply said 'Remove your hand from my arm.' Pulling out that lethal aura people that know how to kill tend to carry. That made him let go rather quickly. He started sulking again, argued with me, saying 'I want another kiss, if you don't kiss me then you'll never see me again.' I was like, yay! but said and waved 'Byyyyyee.' So he supposedly 'deleted' my number and stormed out.

Finally. Right?

Wrong.

But between the wrong, and the right, I met a guy on the train. Pretty cute actually, and friendly and ahem...a naturalist. That got me a bit, O_o for a while before my 'meh' attitude arrived, it's no big. To each their own. We got talking, for about....an hour and a half, seriously, and I was enjoying myself, it was a great end to an otherwise pointless day.

And then, my bus wouldn't be arriving until 7.58pm, it was half five and I'm like...I am so NOT waiting for it. "Muuuuuuum, can you come pick me up pleeeeeease?" and we got home, yay!

Unfortunately, the wrong rolls around about 7.30pm. Dickhead texted me apologising, kinda, and demanding to know what my problem was. "I am not attracted to you." He was/is butt ugly, like, seriously. His attitude didn't help matters either. His response? 'There must be something seriously wrong with me that a girl i'm 5 times more attractive than doesn't find me hot'. But I didnt' reply, i'd already told him that he wasn't getting any more texts or -anything- from me. Bye. He didn't believe me.

So now, two days later, he has called me 12 times, left I don't know how many texts, and he STILL doesn't get the fact that I do NOT want to talk to him. The latest he's sent me? 'come on angela, text me or call me, you know you want to talk to me and I ....kinda want to talk to you too.' ....

....

-_- Now you understand exactly -why- I have reached the conclusion that men are complete and utter idiots?

Oh, and as a warning note, if any of -you- (barring Xin who already knows me) behave in any way, shape, manner or form like THIS jerkoff, I -will- rip your balls off and stuff them down your throat so that you can learn some fucking manners.

Okay, rant over.

Had a Human Biol exam today, which I think I did pretty well in. I wrote for the entirety of the three hours (had multiple choice and short answer done by an hour, so that's like...two hours for two essays. I wrote -heaps-. It was fun. ish.) I'm pretty sure I've got a pretty good mark for it too. The only exam remaining is...English lit. Yay. -_- Ugh. I am so, seriously, OVER people.

Spastic dream...seriously so, even for me.

2007-11-05T11:18:00.001+08:00

Okay, first up, exams, no biggie. I LOVE TEE exams. Why you ask? Because if you finish EARLY, they LET YOU GO EARLY. No sitting there, twiddling your thumbs bored stupid!! It's wonderful.

Oh, and guess what...It's the 5th of November today and, I am going to horribly embarass Xin and...

HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY BBBBBBBBIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHDAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!!!

Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, your one hundred and two, you look like a monkey, aaaaaaaand you smell like one too!

jejejeje, keep smiling honey. ^_~

Aanyways, my spastic dream... (I've got a few hours to kill before the end of school hehe)

I'm having issues in trying to get this to make sense, seriously, that's how spastic it is.

Okay, there's this boy, Tommy, or whatever, I'll just call him Tommy for now, whose parents got a recent windfall. Or something, all I know is that he's a kid that was semi-poor, not born into the money that was needed to go to this camp.

It starts at a table, where all the precious little darlings are gathered around and the carer is saying 'and this is Joanne, but she doesn't eat egg, lettuce...' and so on, listing each child and what they did and didn't eat, and eventually got to Tommy. 'And he's really good, he eats liver, black pudding...' and so on, and Tommy's ducked under the table, the pair either side look down and he says 'dont let her make me eat soup!' so one of the precious little darlings pipes up and says with that sneer (no offence) the rich manage to manufacture "I know what would be -wonderful- for dinner, braised chicken and onion -soup-." And a smug smirk as the carer agrees.

Weeks pass, and Tommy is evidently hating the camp, as he tends to wander off on his own alot, and by the lake, or rather, in it, is a was sunken car (the water's receeded) and that's where he stays alot, as the seats have dried out so it's not squelchy. One day, while he goes down there, he comes across a black dog, a doberman crossed with a rotweiler I guess, savage but gentle. So now Tommy has a friend yay!

One night, a few days after that, a feral, and really -ugly- cat sneaks into his room. Wakes him with a loud yeowl and then gives a purring meow, a massive rat crawls out of a hole in the wall and walks up to the cat, which opens its mouth -really- widely, so that the mouth forms an oval, not a normal open cat mouth, really freakylooking, and the rat crawls in, eaten. Another meow and Tommy goes back to sleep as the cat stalks away.

A few weeks pass, and others find out about this cat, they come to capture it. Tommy with the dog at his side are part of the group, and the cat comes, meows hisses and all that, hurts one of the men, and ends up being held by someone powerful (for some reason it's God but I have no idea why, so lets just skip that part...) and scolded, saying that they misused their power so now that power will go to another more deserving while they suffer in insanity, dealing with the repercussions of that misuse. The only way they get solace from the insanity is in the arms of the one they hurt the most.

Go metaphores....and hell. Spastic dream. Really spastic.

Well, now I can sort of make sense of it...kinda.

Aaaanyways, You can't go off at me for not saying happy birthday Xin because I DIIIIID and I'll say it again,

HAPPY BIRTHDAAY!

Jejejeje. You know you love me.

Last week of school.

2007-10-18T08:24:00.000+08:00

I have reached the somewhat stunning conclusion, that the last week of your year twelve school year, is as much of a waste of time as the last day of term, or the year, for the rest of your years, if not more so. This entire week, (from tuesday) I have accomplished....

Four books read -- Novels, not comic strips, I -am- a bookworm remember

Got the results of my exams -- I did fail math, 47.5% -_- but who needs math anyways?

Aaand....that's it. Pretty much. Oh, and I've got some stuff due for art and design, as in, my interrelationships (As in, who inspired me) and it's due in..five minutes so, waste of time so bleh. I don't care. I am over school.

I wake up in the morning, wishing I could sleep longer and think -- Is there a point for me going to school today? -- I run through what is occuring for that day and reach the conclusion -- no -- but I have to go anyways, elsewise they may get poxy and prevent me from graduating, which would be a royal pain in the rump.

Oh, and because I am bored at the moment -- a lack of emails tend to do that to you -- and randomishly plegh. Thankyou Link, Xin, whatever you want to call yourself :P For the comment two posts ago, I just ah...wanted to see if I could capture the emotions, the feel of what I experience nigh on every night. It is very dull, let me tell you, to have to conciously consider and force yourself to go to sleep. But thankyou. *blushes*

What else.... oh! Silver has managed to find my inactive-hardly-ever-used-at-all myspace. In the year that I made it (june last) I have logged in... four times. Whoo, that's like, once every three months. Maybe. I'm sure he feels very proud of himself (or so I gathered from the tone of the comment that I got :P) and the amount of times people randomly find my myspace when I never pointed them to it is ah...a lil freaky. I mean, a whole....four people found it and know me well enough to go, shock horror! It's mien!!! ...mine*

Oh well, let us move on to happier concerns... such as....

Hmm, wait, I know I have some! Honest...

Ah-hahahaha! I told you! For the past four days I have been having a movie marathon from sheer boredome. Every day when I get home from school, (eventually) i watch a rented movie! Yay, Bridge to Terabithia; Awesome movie, good graphics and imagination. It's about, basically, two kids that find life at school rather dull, and on exploring a forest near their homes (they're neighbours) they discover an 'enchanted' rope, and the rope is the only way to get to Terabithia.

A 'for real' game that was rather clever.

Blades of Glory; Another awesome movie, a must see, trust me, if you like ice skating that is. It's about these two pro skaters who tie for the gold medal in the winter olympics and brawl over it, resulting in a lifetime ban from the mens single skating... horror for them! But, a loophole found by a stalker means that they can enter (stalker of the pretty boy) the pairs competitions...except, ahem, neither male can find a female...and end up being paired with each other.

Hilarious, showing some 'new' moves that are now classics, and a very good take on the, I think, personality and ego clashing of two males.

Spider man 3; Good, decent graphics, spidey gets a swagger! mmm....sorry, he's nice eye-candy when he's swaggering...elsewise Toby Miguire (who plays pidey) is just...meh, so what? Even if he -does- have a good body, or so the costume leads us to believe. Some crying moments, some moments of 'God you are an IDIOT!' and...yeah. I'd recommend you see this one too, if you haven't already that is.

Um... Oh! Eragon; Brilliant graphics! Absolutely sensational, they manage to remove that distinction between the real and the fantasy with Saphira, you could genuinely believe that you could walk outside and see creatures like her soaring the skies, that's how good the graphics and cinematography was! The book was brilliant, is brilliant, and, as I haven't read the book recently enough to know the storyline intimately, the movie does it justice, more than. A stunning work of shooting, I think, and again, if you haven't seen it, go for it! There's fire, and fighting, and a bad guy and a really ugly looking evil badguy destroyed, love, caring, heroics and 'oh no, they cant die!!!' moments and on the edge of your seat anticipation of -- what's going to happen!?--

I, personally, loved it. In case you cant tell :P Of course, having read Eldest as well, I know certain things that inhindsight, make me admire a certain character alot more...ironically. Ah well, I cannot wait until the next movie comes out...or the next BOOK even. Argh. I hate waiting. It's a stupid idea, having to wait for stuff.

And that's all I have to say today, Until next time folks and remember, keep smiling!!

I paaaaassed!!!!

2007-10-16T13:21:00.000+08:00

I don't care about the rest of my exams, (even though the only one I'm waiting for is my math at this point) I PASSED HISTORY!! I always fail history exams, always always always, and this one I passed! By four percent, but a pass is still a pass!!

Lit; 56%

Human biol; 59%

History; 54% <-- woooot!

Math; Fail, highest mark is 62% but bleh, still waiting for it to be returned.

and thus ends the short update, and I'm poofling!

Sometimes...

2007-10-16T08:31:00.000+08:00

You know that period in your night, when you’re neither awake nor asleep, you’re just hovering in this nebulous black cloud of creeping unconsiousness, perhaps you’re watching the black tide advance, your eyes wide open, staring at your darkened ceiling, watching the blackness seep in over the corners of your eyes, seeping in closer, enveloping more and more of that grey patch of your ceiling until you see nothing but darkness? Or perhaps, once the illusion was complete, you’d blink, and the black tide would retreat, and you’d return to staring at your ceiling, waiting, watching, knowing that it would return, that it will return and overtake your vision, but until then, you’re just going to lie there, unsleeping, unseeing, just staring at your darkened ceiling…

You know when you are so exhausted that when you lie down to go to sleep, you can’t? Your mind is just too keyed up with the task of keeping you awake when your body is screaming out for sleep, screaming itself hoarse with exhaustion, but you cannot sleep just yet, there is something you absolutely –have- to do, and so when you can actually go to sleep, after ignoring your body’s cries, the pleas for rest steadfastly silenced by your mind, you find that you can’t find that off switch? It’s as though, for a few, long minutes, perhaps even hours, your mind has forgotten how to relax, how to shut down and rest, how to sleep, after you have been ignoring the sleep, the creeping, insidious need that makes what you see waver, flickering lights in your eyes, the ground rock beneath you and the air seem like thick, sludgy molasses, until breathing through your exhausted lungs seems like way too much effort?

You know when you wake up after a long nights dreaming, your body rested but your mind ready for more sleep, but you have to go through the day with this energetic body, this normal, functioning of impulses but with a mind that is half asleep from exhaustion? When your arms feel like lead and you can’t concentrate on the words right before your face, as they blurr, shift, and dance across the paper, forming lines like soldier ants that scatter beyond your comprehension when you try to pick them up?

Sometimes, I wish I didn’t feel like that. Sometimes, I wish that I might get a normal nights sleep, one without dreams, one which I didn’t go to bed exhausted before, and one that I could sleep through. One where I didn’t watch the creeping tide of unconsiousness like some enemy that had to be fended off, where my mind didn’t have to search for that off switch, search to find the right situations in which to relax, the need to hunt through mounds and mounds of paperwork to find the written warrant saying ‘yes, you can sleep now’. Wouldn’t that be nice, to be able to wake refreshed and ready to face the new day, eager for it even, and to then, go to bed not exhausted, but pleasantly tired, where, if I pushed I could go further, but I don’t have to push, so I wont, and then, to just…sleep? To rest without dreams, without worry, without having to be wary of sleep and what it might hold…(like vampiric Velcro felt strips…a dream two nights ago, long story, and freaky as all get out too, but that’s another tale..)

Wouldn’t you like that too? To be able to just… but then, the majority of you won’t have any idea what I’m talking about, right?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

PS, graduating THIS sunday, the 21st of October heeee!!!!!one!!!!11!!!!eleven!!!

Okay, I'm over it now. I'm good.

I am...

2007-09-26T13:02:00.001+08:00

I am a ghost. A spectre, a shadow. My existance is but a fleeting thing, it is only the absence of another embodiement. My considerations contain no weight, my interpretations have no meaning, my life has no journey to follow.

I am but half of what I was, and even less than that half am I now. I do not consider my consiousness an existence, merely a status of fact, a status that can and will be nullified. When, you ask? I do not know. All I know is that I cannot endure as I am.

I step through the shadows, through the memories of what people once had, I stand in their absence. I stand in the memory of what was, but no longer recalled; I am forgotten.

What has brought this about? The knowledge that I am, and always will be, completely worthless. And don't go throwing the blame on my mother either, she and I are getting along well enough now, it is her boyfriend that I am having problems with.

I don't mind being accused of things that I've actually -done-, like leaving the occasional cheese wrapper on the bench and whatnot. I know my room is a mess -- one of his main complaints that he, and I quote 'don't want to go in there for fear of something biting me' <-- that was on the offer of him taking the cat out of my room, since I am aparantly cruel to leave her alone, 'locked' in my room for FIVE MINUTES while mother looked up the meaning of 'tactile', sitting patiently, as you do, for the meaning, and he accuses me of being 'cruel and locking her, she's just a kitten! in your room while you sat down and watched TV'

....

Okay, great. Accusing a girl that sees a TV show in it's ENTIRETY that -she- chose to watch maybe once a MONTH, of sitting down and watching the news that more often than not she has no interest in!?

I have had enough. I was -this- close to bringing it to blows with him, and I'm not a violent person, not in that manner! I was -so- angry that I actually growled. Well, snarled would be a better word I suppose, like a dog would, the rumble in the throat and everything. I haven't been so bloody close to hitting someone since I was twelve. I almost couldn't control it, I had my hands fisted so tightly that I was actually hurting myself. So while mother tried to calm him down, I sat on my bed, tears streaming down my face as I snarled -- primal, primitive sound of pure rage -- I don't get angry, I get furious when people royally piss me off.

Only one other person annoyed me to that same extent, and he freaked out and ran when my eye's changed. They're usually blue, a nice, bright blue with green around the iris (a little bit, and it's only if you look closely that you can see it) but when i'm that pissed, they go purple. The angry, roiling purple of a thundercloud, complete with the swirling. That's what others have told me, I don't recall what actually happened, only that he ended up with a massive bruise and a fractured rib or three.

*sighs*

Come new years, I am out of here. I'll have to be anyways, since the majority of the uni campases are in Joondalup. About two hours drive from where I currently am.

I wonder...

2007-09-25T08:33:00.000+08:00

I wonder what it would be like, to fall off a cliff. To just step off the edge of the world and fall, fall through the air until the water hits you, slaps you and then cradles you as you sink down, down through the darkness of eternity.

I wonder if I would pause, hesitate at that final step and look behind me, look behind me for someone that I know who will not be there. But of course, they wouldn't be there, I would be alone. And so, with a final, soft smile for the beauty of the world marred and destoryed by mankinds greed, I would take that final, little step, and fall.

The wind flowing through my hair as I fell, tangling and knotting it, plucking at my clothes like so many invisible fingers, ruffling, flapping the fabric as the water drew closer, closer, the waves lashing at the rocks beneath me, the rocks holding up the world until it reached up and hit me, slapped me and stung my flesh in reprimand, but forgave and then accepted me into its soft, icy, yet soothing hold. The air jarred from my lungs as I'd start to sink, bubbles of life drifting up through to the surface, a surface steadily vanishing from me as I sunk, down, down through the water until the filtered blue-green light of the sun was replaced by darkness, replaced by the silence, the perfect solitude, the serene blackness of infinity. The beautiful calm, the emotionless patience of eternity.

I wonder what it would be like... I wonder if I would let the water hold me, forgive me for my wrongs and then swallow me into its unknown, or would it reject me, as has everything else, and leave me, bloated and malformed on some rocky beach somewhere, to be rejected again by those that found me.

I wonder...

Nightmare.

2007-09-20T10:47:00.001+08:00

I don't have nightmares often, more often than not they're dreams. I barely even have bad dreams, it just doesn't work. Especially when you tend to take charge and turn the terrifying into the ridiculous. Unfortunately I couldn't do that in this nightmare, I swear I have never been so glad to wake up on a school day.

Here we go, what happened.

Me and this group of scientists researching the paranormal were in this old house, there were numerous reports of screaming heard within when it was empty and the like. It started off pretty low key, I mean, the odd shimmer in the air, a glowing spark by a door, that sort of thing. Little stuff that got us really excited. It's like -yes- finally we'll have proof of the occult! And then things started to go downhill.

It turns out that the family that lived there, were all horrid mean people, you know, the self-righteous arrogant toerags that occasionally crop up? Yeah, the parents were like that. The father was very strict and overbearing and the mother was selfabsorbed, selfish, and bitchy. There was a daughter of about 18 and a son of about six or so. First all we saw was the daughter as she went about her day, cleaning, washing, cooking and so on, it was like we weren't there. And then she started noticing us -- not good as she got rather aggro when she saw us. Screetching and everything, and that woke up the rest of the family. They possessed my partners, and they went mad, thinking that they really -were- the ghosts.

Something happened with my vision when they were possessed, and I got double vision, I saw the ghost possessing them -and- them. It was very weird. We couldn't do anything, but the daughter possessed me and took me through the fateful night when the entire family died, or what was left of it. Since the previous winter the six year old son got locked outside in the snow, the mother saw it standing there, knocking on the front door (there was glass in the door) and pleading to come in, but she only smiled, returned to the letters she was reading before walking away. Person number one dead, as they froze to death in the middle of summer (winter) when the son died.

The father tended to beat both the daughter and his wife, so i was trying to escape a beating and the mother (I was like, possessed remember?) and then the ghost goes insane and kills the mother and the father before I eject her from my body. She screams at me and we fight. I pin her against the wall (really odd, having your hand around a throat you can't see) when she started -laughing- at me! This maniacal laughter that was -really- irritating. I look behind me and there's this shadow of the father bearing down on me, I squeak, release her, duck his attack and go to the front door, it's locked, but I've got my keys, yay! So I unlock the door, get out, expecting to have some cold hand pull me back or something nasty to happen, but I get out, shut the door and start running. About halfway down the driveway I turn and look back and freak, its my fathers house, with the tree's either side and everything, and there -she- is gloating.

She sends this ghost wolf after me -- now don't get me wrong, I love wolves, normally, I always think they're beautiful creatures, even when snarling and everything, they're gorgeous! -- but not this one, it was like, black, midnight black, all teeth and red eyes and snarl and me, being the sane, normal person that I am, I ran from this six foot thing...that's at the shoulder people. You'd have run too.

So I'm belting down the road, the bitchumen hurting my bare feet, getting winded, my legs complaining, and it's just loping along behind me. (In hindsight, I don't think I had to have run...but yeah) I ran about 500m down the road to where there were two driveways either side of each other, saw a heap of cars go into one driveway and then vanish, like, pass through the gate and then poofle. Alarm bells started ringing there, and I was standing in the middle of the road for about five minutes (uneaten) before moving off the road. I looked behind me and the wolf had shrunk down from that monster thing to a more normal size, it flopped down in the path as I backed away, asking it to go and leave me be. It's response? "You are my Mother, I could never hurt you." Before getting up and loping down the road and vanishing.

Then a crippled cousin of mine -- or perhaps she was an elder sister-- who'd broken her knee and was on crutches was going towards the driveway where the cars had vanished into and I went over to her and said "Wait no! you don't want to go in there, come one, we have to go over here..." And so on, getting her out of there and then my grandma and eight year old sister were on the -other- side of the road going to a birthday party. (I don't have any sisters or grandmothers at all) So I dragged my elder sister to the middle of the road and left her dazedly standing there before fetching the other pair of relatives. Then i got a phone call, it was the ghost saying that my father had just called and was wondering if my number was 0407 105 991 or something else but I had no signel so I couldn't call my father and and and....

And then I woke up. I saw the sunlight on my window, breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed. I swear, I have never, ever, been so glad to wake up 10 minutes before my alarm on a school day.

Monday night.

2007-09-18T08:16:00.000+08:00

What do you do on a monday night with no homework but a buttload of study to do? Get a text from work and rock up. -_-

Although, it was an easy night, monday nights always are, since it's the start of the week and all that. I had my drive thru jobs done by 8pm, and I didn't finish until 10. So, I spent the next hour and a half (got sent home early, 9.30) flipping boxes for paperstock. Fun fun. One box of regular chip boxes, two boxes of dinner boxes later...time to go home yay. Go the hour and a half of makework.

They seriously -didn't- need me, I mean, come -on- people, I remember working mondays during which there were only -five- people on. INCLUDING the kitchen hand. One in box, one in drive pack, one on burgers and one on lobby, and the fifth? The kitchen hand. Oh and then there's the MOD of course. So having one, two, three, four, five, six...six no, seven people on, me, burgers, drive pack, two on lobby and two kitchen hands for a MONDAY night, where we're lucky to get that many on a FRIDAY night, one of the busiest nights we have...Oh for pete's sake.

End of that rant.

You may all bow and go 'ooooh' in awe at my awesome 75% on a history cognitive test. That's right, bow down, bow before my glory! Yes. Gloating over. I'll crawl back into my box now.

Oh look, isn't this nice, two posts in ONE week, my, I think I might be spoiling myself...or you, whatever. SOMEONE is getting spoiled.

I am not like you.

2007-09-16T17:18:00.001+08:00

I am not like you,
you who walk in the day,
you who live, love, breathe,
hope and of course, pray.

I am not like you,
you who walk in the night,
you who hate, hurt, loathe,
bleed, and of course, fight.

I am not like you,
those who walk the street,
steadily walking down a path,
stones steadily passing beneath your feet.

I do not walk a path,
nor hope, hate, love, loathe,
live, bleed, fight nor pray.

I stand at the crossroads,
watching as you pass,
watching where your road leads,
where you stumble, where you laugh.

I mark the divergance,
I watch what you do,
I note the change;
I am not like you.

~~~~~~~

A curious little thing I came up with yesterday, you know when you have a poem just waiting to be written? Or maybe you don't, but it was like that for me, it was wonderful, happens so rarely now, unfortunately.

What else shall I tell? Oh yes, I had a human biol exam this week, well, last week, I got the results this week, it had two parts, theory and practical, 63% of the theory (ahem, too many questions attempted, sadly) 78% on the practical though! and as each was worth 5% that lifted my average mark from 54% to 62%!!! And I'm like, -score-. Fairly chuffed there.

I'm doing pretty well in lit too, I think, I hope. I've got to check what my score there is as well too, I said as much to mother dearest, and you know what her reply was? 'It doesn't matter, do better'. To that i'm like...oh thanks. Great. What's the point of doing 'better' if you don't know if the 'better' actually does anything.

So, while on some aspects my relationship with my mother has gotten better, in others it hasn't.

Take not five minutes ago for example, she yelled at me because I didn't go and wash the seven year olds hair, when I wasn't sure when she'd start her shower or anything like that, I mean, -i- am not the one that has to take care of her and all that. Fair enough she asked me, but when I told her that I wasn't sure, and what with th epropensity she (the kid) has for wasting time, who knows when it would have happened?

And then, because she growls at me, and growls at her boyfriend, I"m the badguy. I can understand that, honestly. But her argument, that because she's working tonight she shoudn't have to do anything, doesn't wash. I mean, if you made school into a 'job', i've got two, and on my weekend, the only day when I'm -not- working, ie, sunday, I shouldn't have to do anything, or rather, have time to relax adequately, which she seems bent on removing from me. *sighs*

Ah well, life will go on, as it always does.

Why do I bother?

2007-09-04T08:39:00.000+08:00

Honestly, some days -- most days -- I don't know why I bother trying. Trying what you ask? Trying anything. Take for example yesterday; I get the results of an essay I'd written -- 70% -- which was great for me, considering that before then I was generally only just scraping a pass. Consequently, I was in a good mood, a bloody brilliant one in fact.

I was gloating and strutting and proud of myself, I got a 70% in lit!! I was stoked -- note the -was- here people-- I get off the bus and start walking home, no problem. I was still in a good mood, got around 3/4 the way home and mother dearests boyfriend picks me up, I say hi.

Silence.

Are you alright?

Got some growled reply with the general gist of me not caring that he's had a foul day. I lapse into silence, when you try to be friendly and get snarled at, prudence tells you to shut up.

So, getting home, mother dearest asks; how was your day?

Pretty good -- it had been, up until then you understand?

good because it's about to go to shit.

Okay?

Okay?! -- in that mocking, patronising tone, you know the one, where they're mocking your ignorance, like you should already know what they're about to go off their nut at you for.

So I dump my stuff in my room and go back out. Fifteen minutes later I discover what the problem is-- I didn't say 'good morning' to the boyfriend this morning.

I get my arse chewed out and accused of being a rude little bitch that had better change her attitude or she'll be -walking- everywhere, like I haven't heard that fucking threat before. I can deal with that, I don't mind walking/riding/getting places under my own steam -- I dont' care, it's what happens.

But what got me -really- riled and upset, so much so that I'm -crying- as I write this-- fucking weak of me I know-- is that mother dearest said 'and because you fucked up last night (sunday night) you don't have your internet priviledges on Sunday'

As if it wasn't enough taht she's fucking cut down my sadly pathetic social life to one seventh of what it was-- she now has to remove it entirely! Why, I ask you, do I fucking bother? I do good in my studies, I behave as best as I can and for what? For -this-?!

Oh and get this, the reason mother dearest was 'explaining' this to me was because her boyfriend wanted to slap me!
Quote verbatum; the only thing that stopped me from beating you this morning, was the shit I'd get into when your mother came home and saw you bleeding on the floor. Karate or no karate, I've been kicked by a cow and compared to that your puny fists won't stop me.

So.

I am going to be really, really stupid and confront him tomorrow. Provoke the prick, fucking challenge him. You wanted to beat me yesterday, leave me bleeding on the floor you said, mother heard you, so why don't you eh? what's stopping you from beating me until i'm bleeding, lying on the floor? You said my karate was useless, so go ahead, fucking hit me! I'm sure once you explain this to mother dearest she won't blame you, knowing my pox-rotted luck she'd throw -me- out. Go on, hit me, mess up my so called pretty face, fuck up my body, do some -real- damage, then maybe you'll stop fucking lusting after me and keep your eyes where they fucking belong!

If that doesn't provoke him enough I'lls tart getting violent with more than words. Oh don't hit girls? That wouldn't have made a difference to you yesterday!

I am royally pissed off/upset/whatever.

Then, once he'd done that, I'll run away. Screw school, screw their plans for me, I'll apply for uni once I"m 21 as a mature aged studen. But first I'll fucking vanish from their life. And if that doesn't work? Well, we all know I've got a lovely sharp knife in my handbag...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Okay, that was yesterday written, I didn't get beating. Coward that I am.

Update coz I have time.

2007-09-02T20:43:00.000+08:00

Things are rolling sort of sweetly, I freaked myself out the other day, when it was predicted to hail and the morning dawned bright and clear, and I said, when seeing it, 'it'll rain after lunch'...and it does. From a blue sky to bucketing down in a few hours. It's a little bit disturbing you understand?

What else...oh, in a lit debate, I got 85% for it, so I was rather proud of myself. Seems my lit teacher -likes- you to go really out there with interpretations of the text, so long as you can back it up with proof. It was fun. For those of you that have read Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad, I can assure you that the frame narrator marginalises women. How you ask? By not mentioning them! Yay, brownie points for going out there in a wacky interpretation. And the knitting woman and the receptionist? 'Ave!' Old knitter of black wool 'Morituri te Salutant' -- Hail, those who are about to die salute you'. Latin, from what the roman Soldiers used to say and so on...I had them as margianlisted because they were listed as being virtually executioners, this little old lady and her daughter! Hehe. Yeah, I'd post the thingy, but I'm a lazy bum and my laptop hates me, it keeps on freezing so I won't tax the RAM any more than I must.

What else...

Um...oh, of course, I miss you all desperately! One day a week just doesn't cut the mustard you know?

Oh! and I have a boyfriend...of sorts. Heh, he's on the other side of Aus to me, hence the 'sort of' part. It's so sweet, he's hell romantic and a wrestler and everything, so theres two nights a week, one for training, so he's muscular and strong and... *drools* but. He needs a haircut. One flaw I think. He's hoping to be coming over here in November for a few days, I'm looking forward to that but well....School's got priority.

Speaking of which, it's four weeks as of monday until the mock's, then three days of school, graduation, two weeks wait, and then TEE exams and then fiiiiiiinished. Stuff leavers, I don't want a criminal record, nor spend a week getting drunk. Bah. Boring.

So yeah. That ought to do well enough.

I had a dream...

2007-08-24T10:55:00.001+08:00

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.

2007-08-20T13:02:00.000+08:00

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.

2007-08-17T10:49:00.000+08:00

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

2007-08-14T10:56:00.002+08:00

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

2007-08-12T12:45:00.000+08:00

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

2007-08-09T11:04:00.003+08:00

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.

2007-08-08T11:19:00.000+08:00

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)

2007-08-06T13:00:00.000+08:00

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. -_-

2007-08-01T11:11:00.000+08:00

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.

Logic

2007-07-31T13:12:00.000+08:00

Okay, walk with me through this road of logic that has me quite honestly baffled.

Our cat is a queen and in heat, so in order for everyone else to sleep semi-peacefully, my mother's bf has been losing sleep keeping her quiet. This makes him tired during the day and snappish.

Mother dearest doesn't liek that he's tired and testy, so they tend to fight.

I avoid the fights as best as I can, and stay out of their way.

Pheonix unfortunately, get's the brunt of her father's temper in the mornings.

So. To keep the peace in the house, I'm not allowed on the internet.

Right.

Mother is pissed at bf, bf is pissed at mother and to keep THEM happy, -I- have to stay in my room and off my computer?

Does any body follow the logic of that? Anyone at all? Aside of course, from the minor little detail that ALL arguments are caused by the internet and it's me, my laptop and the INTERNET'S fault that they're arguing.

I'm just...baffled. and totally not photogenic. Ugh. But that's for another day perhaps, since I don't really wish to deal with the arguments right now.

Causes of the 1917 Februrary Russian Revolution

2007-07-30T10:46:00.000+08:00

(infodump essay, so that I can find it later without taking up any memory on my pendrive or harddrive. Oh, and our kitten is now a queen and she's in heat. Bloody noisy nuisance of a cat.)

Intro: The 1917 Revolution in Februrary was merely the explosion from a steady build up of pressure. When the 1905 Revolution acheived next to nothing for the workers and peasants and they realised that, the discontent started building again. Not only had Tsar Nicholas II reneged on the promises made in the October Manifesto, but the Duma he allowed to form supported -him- rather than the interests of the workers and peasants, those that had protested essentially. If this alone was not enough then the mismanagement of the people and politics during World War One certainly would have been.

Before the war

Economic causes- Due to the Industrial revolution, the economy was proving to be more efficient and profitiable compared to the output it once had. This meant that the archaic methods of farming were set aside and updated (around 200 years -after- the rest of Europe), albeit only slightly and industries in the cities and towns were increasing production.

- City population swelled as peasants were migrating from the farms and countryside into the cities for employment. Each factory had 1000+ workers by 1913, which made living conditions poor and labour very cheap. The low wages only increased discontent among the disgruntled workers and the close living conditions meant that it was much easier for word of a protest to get around, since censorship of the newspapers prevented the more conventional methods.

Social causes- While in some aspects the conditions of the peasants and workers -had- improved, in most others they had not, living conditions, equality of status and the right to have an equally weighted vote wasn't among the improvements. The aristocracy and upper/middle class beurgoise(sp? Merchants essentially) retained the majority of the power, leaving the peasants and workers on the bottom rungs of the social ladder.

- Bloody Sunday (February 9th, 1905) meant that the Tsar could no longer rely on the peasants loyalty for his rule (peasants are around 80% of the population). Stolypin, his Minister of the Interoro knew this and tried to get their loyalty back to the Tzar by improving famring -and- crushing the revolutionaries. His method was court marshalls, very abrupt 'justice' systems. 24 hours after being convicted the prisoner would have a trial and within 24 hours of the trial they had to have the execution-- usually by hanging. Hence the gallows became known as 'Stolypins neckties'.

Political causes- The Duma, the Third one formed but the first to actually serve it's full term of 5 years, was made up of wealthy merchants and aristocracy, therefore it was highly supportive of the Tsar and very conservative. The First Duma made a vote of no confidence in the government, Nicholas' response was to dissolve the Duma. The Second Duma was made up of Social Revolutionaries (those that started the Revolution in 1905 and want to remove the Tsar completely from his throne) was dissolved four days before it even took seat on the premise that they weren't loyal to the throne. The third Duma was made and allowed to stay as it -supported- the Tsar's decisions, rendering it rather unpopular with the peasants and workers. --prime hunting ground for the left- and right-wing revolutionaries.

The War
Effects on the people- Low wages--> due to a great number of workers going off to the war (around one in three soldiers were conscripted) businesses were failing regularly, unless of course they were part of building and creating armaments, ammunition, guns and so on, supplies for the army essentially.
- Inflation and high bread costs--> again due to the number of people in the war there weren't enough peasants working the land and farming crops to supply food for everyone, let alone the army, this pushed bread prices through the roof, a precious commodity.

Effects on the Army- Shortages --> Food, arms and ammunition were short, obviously, due to the fact that the Tsar had left about one tenth of the working population to -work- and provide the food and products for the rest of the country. It got so bad that at one stage the soldiers had to wait until their comrades holding guns fell and died to pick up their weapon and march on.
- Heavy losses --> frequent defeats to Germany and the officers treating the war like a race to Berlin resulted in a loss of morale. The individual officers advanced ahead of their supply lines and not as a uniform force, one flank would advance further than another and have to retreat. Rather than forcing the Germans out of Russia in a unified force. The Officers, generals, captains etc were made up of aristocracy, given their positions from favours and rank (ie, Lord such and such) rather than on -merit-, their capabilities as a leader was never previously tested.

Tsar Mistakes- The Tsar dismissed his uncle, Grand Duke Nikolai Nikolaevich and took personal command of the army. This was a bad move because the defeats the Russian army took in the face of the German's were now blamed directly on Nicholas II rather than on his ministers and officials. Further loss of morale and supportive loyalty to the Tsar from the civilians, army and almost everyone.
- His second major mistake was leaving the Tsarina (his disliked GERMAN wife) and Rasputin (disliked 'priest' that was introduced to the family because the heir had haemophillia and the doctors couldn't do anything about it, Rasputin managed to help somehow.) in charge. In an autocracy, the autocrat canNOT leave the centre of power to stand on the peripherals, not without commiting virtually political suicide.

Tsarina and Rasputin- The Tsarina was German and disliked before the war, now that she was in power and they were at -war- with the Germans, her popularity plummeted. Essentially she was seen as a German spy and distrusted as well as disliked - now hated.
- Now Rasputin is a bit more complex of a character. He was a peasant that was raised up through the ranks by becoming a clergy minister, of sorts. He was a mystic, a rather disliked mystic because he damaged the Royal Family's reputation, -and- because he was an advisor to the Tsar, advice which the Tsar took. Rasputin had religious 'councelling' sessions with the aristocracy. They ended up being sex orgies as numerous rituals needed to be performed 'naked'. (side note of random information, aparantly he was 11". Ouch. Perhaps his appeal was hidden beneath his cassock?)

The Revolusion- Coldest winter on record, with an average of -12 deg C compared with the -4.4 deg C of the year before.
- Low food, low wages, low comfort. On the 23rd of February--> International Womens day and thousands of women marched in a protest. They were joined by their menfolk as they marched onto the Winter Palace.
- General Khabalov tried to introduce rationing when the food shortages ran low --> very bad idea, too little too late. Should have rationed -before- then.
- Then Khabalov lost control of the army when they refused to fire on the women protestors and joined in the riot. The Tsar couldn't get the army to supress the revolution if the army didn't follow his and his general's orders, so he was forced to abdicate without the power of the army behind him to enforce his rule.

(There we go, info dump complete.)

Arrogance.

2007-07-27T13:24:00.000+08:00

Okay, two things, first; if you don't like my point of view or my opinions as I voice them here without worrying about insulting someone then, I assure you, you are under NO constraints to continue reading.

This is MY blog, MY head and if you don't like what you find here then go alt+F4 or move onto another site. I know I'm arrogant, I know I'm far from blameless in NAY category, I make no excuses for it, I accept it and I try my bloody hardest to change it, mostly. But if YOU think to judge me, condemn me for what you find in my head after I INVITED YOU IN, then you know where the 'x' in the corner of your screen is, USE IT.

Okay, rant on that topic over.

I hate the cause for my post today, as it is horribly hypocritical, but other peoples arrogance -really- pisses me off. Well actually, it's just this one girl. My RE teacher was speeling off about quantum physics and philosophy, and because -she- was bored with the topic or couldn'g understand it, she kept on saying 'no, no, stop. You cant. Just no.'

Of course, she said it quietly but it was the tone of voice that riled me. It was that... pompous silver-spoon upper-crust attitude, as though because -she- was sick of it, everyone else should agree with her attitude.

And I've probably offended Xin, again, with that comment.

I wasn't born into weath, I'm still not PART of wealth. I don't conceal the fact that I'm a 'poor breed', even in my previous school, a country town, I was still a 'poor breed'. That colours my judgements, I know it does, it means, ironically, that I'm ever so slightly prejudiced against rich people. Especially those that 'waste' money. You know, those that go out every weekend and blow upwards of $100 a week, on their 'me' time, or shopping or sociallising or whatever, you get my point.

The arrogance that comes with being priviledged -really- annoys me, it's like the do-gooder Christians, those that want to go out and convert the 'barbarians' and 'heathens' into their 'civilisation'. It sickens me, that they preach about doing the 'Lords' work and love thy neighbour and all that fruit, just so that they can go and be a 'good' person, and have something to bloody brag about on Sunday!

Bloody hypocrits (yes, I'm including myself in here, I'm a bloody hypocrit too, wonder why I loathe myself?)

Morals

2007-07-24T10:45:00.001+08:00

You know, sometimes I hate having such high morals that I do, and what I hold as value, since it tends to create such arguments among those around me.

I've just had an RE class to do with morals and arguing with almost everyone else in my class because they quite frankly, can't see beyond their own blasted nose! I mean, it was to do with capitalism and how the more selfish the society the higher the level of mental illness is etc, but we got to arguing about people having choices. The general opinion was that -everyone- chose what they did, if someone raped another they CHOSE to do so. Fair enough, there is -some- choice in the matter, but more often than not there is next to no choice, not as you would consider a 'choice' to be. It's not always black and white, right and wrong.

I tried to bring in the point of prostitutes, how not all of them -choose- to be streetwalkers, it's the only way they can support themselves, their families etc. One bright spark said 'well become a waitress' and from there the argument went on. *sighs*

So, I got fed up with them condemning those that make 'bad' choices and I just -had- to say something. I said "This will get me yelled at, but from what I'm hearing, you are all from rich families, you have to to go here (it's an expensive school) so you can't know what these other people face to make the 'choises' they do, it's not always a choice. So get down off your high horse and away from the assumption that EVERYONE comes from the same background as you, on the same pedastle that you oh so regally look down from when they DON'T. Walk a mile in another's shoes before you judge them.'

Yes, well, that got me royally yelled at. Fair enough I could have phrazed it more delicately than I did, but you can understand that I was a bit pissed off by this point. They're saying that no matter what happens you can always make a choice yadda yadda yadda. I mean, COME ON people, the world is NOT perfect, get down of your horse and walk the streets for a while, get your lilly-white feet dirty and THEN you can tell me that they made the fucking choice to steal.

I'm an openminded person, extremely so, I don't cast stones, not without having been in that exact same situation and I have reacted in a way different to them. The girls in my class were all for saying 'who do you think you are? You don't know me, you don't know what I've been through' etc, and too right, I DON'T know whaty THEY have been through, but I DO know what OTHERS have. And it is from -that- knowledge that I condemn them for 'lording' it over the 'lower class'.

Yeah, Australia is a classless society my foot.

What the...?

2007-07-23T12:17:00.001+08:00

Okay, here's the run down of my confusion. I thought that today I had school. I was under the assumption that I did, so last night I go to bed early (9.30pm or so) set my alarm for 6.30am, when it is still dark I'll have you know, got up, had a shower etc, got ready for school...

Only to find, first off that the bus wasn't coming. Second that there was no school. -_-

So, I spend all of yesterday, or the greater majority of it, trying to type up an essay that ends up being around the 1500 word mark rather than 1800, stressing that I wouldn't get it done in time, I go to bed EARLY, get up EARLY all for what? To be told that I didn't have to get up to my alarm that's what!

Gah. Y'know, if it weren't for the fact that I got the day of school, I would be ROYALLY annoyed.

Change of subject-- The meaning of life.

Don't ask me how they link, they just do.

Last night I spoke to Xin, and since he seems to forget to believe me when I say that if you ask me a question, I'll give you an answer. Obviously meaning philosophical ones and the like, not maths or chemistry or whatever. Ugh. So, what does he ask me? For the third time so far? 'What is the meaning of Life?'

Of course I answered! It's a rather good answer actually, but I'm writing this post so that he can't ask me, again, thinking that he's found something I can't reply to. Honestly, that question get's boring after a while. Don't look at me like that, I -will- give you my answer, patience is a virtue you know.

And it does! I mean, after you get asked the same thing five times you get a bit over repeating yourself you know? Hence my blog, so I don't have to repeat myself umpteen amout of times.

Now, the meaning of life! Some people say that it's love, others that it's procreation, you know, the whole 'continuation of the species'. It's 'making a name for yourself', 'leaving your mark on the world', 'living the life you dreamed of'. Hmm, well to me, none of these are good reasons for 'living', and I should know. Is it the same for you? Do they just seem like justificiactions? Let's pull religion into it shall we? Christians believe that the meaning of life is to do good and get into heaven, to sit at the right hand of Jesus or whatever. Hindu's I believe, are of the opinion that the karma you build in this life will directly influence the form you take in the next-- again, be good or else. Bhuddists; to reach the stage of pure enlightenment and become a bhudda. Which generally involves being a nice loving, wonderful person. Hmm...are you seeing a theme here?

To my point of view, none of these reasons actually give -life- meaning, simply provides the consequences after you die. Either that or the 'meaning' is so worthless that it is virtually pointless. So. My answer to 'what is the meaning of life?'

Life has no more meaning than that which you give it, what you do with it is your own life's meaning. Therefore, choose your priorities carefully, wisely, and ensure that you can live with the choices you have made, be them between two 'evils' or the road you walk, no matter the path.

Summary: You give your life it's own meaning, no matter what that meaning is and no one else can tell you what -your- life's meaning is.

Think on it.

Harry Potter!

2007-07-21T21:32:00.000+08:00

Yes, I'm a potter lover, an unashamed one too! Awesome books and Radcliffe is cute too. ;D But anyways, I've juuust finished reading the book, HP and the Deathly Hallows. And it. is. AWESOME.

Seriously! I won't give you slower readers any spoilers (took me a grand total of 8 hours to read, or 11 hours since I got it but I didn't open it then, saw the Order of the Phoenix first) aside from the fact that....well, the last word in the book is 'well' and lots and lots of characters die. Six at a rough count, and -no- I won't tell you who. No...wait, seven.

I'll dispell a couple rumours though, Malfoy and Harry DON'T end up as buddies, and yes Harry DOES die, *grin* so does Voldemort, but you'll find that out on your own. Lessee what else....

Newp, I can't say anything else without spoiling! It is an awesome book, very very good. If you've noticed, (I had) that order of the phoenix and half-blood prince weren't as well written as the previous four books? Lacking the detail, still good reads, but not up to the same quality as say the philosopher's stone. Trust me, Deathly Hallows more than makes up for their lack! The first two chapters are a -bit- dull, but you get that, you have to gentle the readers into the action rather than throwing it directly at them. Whew, I couldn't put it down. And then I had people bugging me in THE fight scene and and and...argh!

I'm still a bit hyper sorry, I tend to get like this after finishing a good book, hell a new book is a good thing :D

Anyways, I also went and saw Order of the Phoenix, bloody good movie. Good special effects, they didn't cut too much out of the storyline, there were parts that were only sketched at, Hagrid's foray into the giants for instance, how and wy he brought Grawp back, that they could have gone into a little flash back cinematic thing, perhaps a bit more about the DA (Dumbledores Army) and how they communicated perhaps, to organise the meetings, but the rest was absolutely wonderful. Kudos to the makers!

So yes, I'm back at my mothers, unfortunately and ironically she couldn't work my laptop while i was at my fathers (suck shit!) where as I am having about the same amount of trouble I usually do and I'm not entirely sure of what her problem was lol. I've gotten my hair dyed too, it's a violety-purple red, rather dark, and lighter streaks of blonde through it. It looks rather good actually, I like it. And that's my summarisation for my life for now (oh, and that I -still- haven't done my holiday homework heh, I guess I'd best knuckle down tomorrow eh?) oh! and I bought a CD thing for spanish from Dymocks (a book store) so I can learn proper spanish, rather than mexican XD Ah well. Until another day, adios!

ps. !! I forgot, I caught up with one of my long time friends yester-no wait, friday now, and had a good talk with her. Heh, stunned her when I admitted that I'd contemplated suicide, and even told her how I'd go about it and all. Course, this was after I told her all the stuff I had to pay and whatnot (check a previous post to see how much I'm worth a month) and she doesn't like my mother now, ironic, considering that she was charmed by the lady. Thought she was alright you know? But then, everyone who meets mother dearest does, they think she's wonderful. Ah well. *shrugs* And I swear that's it! I'll shut up now before my post gets 'scary long'.

Spanish!

2007-07-17T18:48:00.002+08:00

Or more accurately, mexican. I'm learning/teaching myself it. It's fun, yet I fail, miserably, in trying to construct sentences. And considering that my 'teacher' learnt both english and spanish at the same time, so was never formally taught as such, has made things a bit hard you know?

So anyways, I can say... hola, me llamo Ange, cual es tu nombre?

hello, my name is ange, and your name is? (I think, it was sort of just rattled out by him)

And... me menara de hablar espanol por las mananas es una broma

My way of speaking spanish in the mornings is a joke.

Now, they have male/female and neuter words, sentences rather. And the sentence has to 'agree'. So you can't have me menara de hablo because menara is female and hablo is neuter/male and you can't do that. Summary: words ending with a are female, words ending with e or o are male. So, if the word ends with an a then the alterable verbs and conjugated words (it is a SPASTIC language) have to change to agree with that one word so that it becomes a female sentence.

You still with me?

For example you can't have la rinoceronte(i think that's how you spell it), because 'la' is for female and rinoceronte is a MALE word, so it would have to be el rinoceronte. It doesn't matter if the rhino is male or female, its because it ends with an 'e' or 'o' that makes it male. Giraffe in english would be male, but girafa is female. Ergo, la girafa macho. The male giraffe.

Fun no? And I'm trying to get my head around this BEFORE school starts again.

Spastic dream

2007-07-16T09:38:00.001+08:00

Seriously spastic. Most of you know that I haven't trained for a couple years now right? So what the devil am I doing dreaming about being in a tournament?

Okay, so my dream starts in the middle of a kumite (fight) bout, where I'm standing on the sidelines, hot and bothered and slightly smarting as I'd just lost my fight, royally thumped, hey, it was the nationals and I was -way- out of practise. Seriously so. A little blurring of the time, and I'm lining up for a kata round.

Two people who know me ask me who I'd rather verse in the final round. I replied with a snort "I doubt I'll get past the first round, considering I can barely remember the entirety of a kata."

"Oh yeah, that might be a bit of a bummer eh?"

"Hope to get to verse you."

Then the round started, I was semi-watching the other kata's, just mostly stressing over the fact that this was a NATIONAL competition and I had NOTHING to work with for the first round. I wasn't even sure if I had the entirety of the Kata I was planning to do in my head.

My turn comes up, and I've got a seriously bad case of stage fright. I straighten my shoulders, walk out to the middle of the mat, bow, keep my eyes shut, walk to the center, bow again and open my eyes. "Heian Godan!" I say, the first round -always- has to be a heian kata, it's very basic kata's, the first ones you learn. I pull it off...alright, I think I missed bits and added bits and scrambled it into other kata's, but it looked good, must have because I got into the second round.

This round I did Jion, and thoroughly stuffed it up. My two favourite katas, my competition kata actually, the pair that I've done so many times for performing in a tournament that I can do them asleep...and it seems to have semi-paid off. Unfortunately I get knocked out in this round, and the winner went on to win third place, so it's not that bad I suppose. But oddly enough, before the bout had finished, this...balloon cage thing descended through the roof and a moth like she-boy entered the bout, performed a kata, very gracefully and elegantly, and won first place.

After that, my dad helped me go through jion, basically reteaching it to me, so that I remembered the entirety of it. That was fine, once I was satisfied with that, or rather, he was, I went over and befriended the she-boy, since no one was really sure if he was a she or a he, too feminine looking to be a he, yet lacking the obvious female characteristics, hips for one, to be a she. We were having a nice chat, when he invited me into his bubble-cage thing, I said a goodbye to my dad and all that, before following him. We went up through the roof and over fields and things, still talking, well more, him laughing as I was awe-ing at the view. And then....and then my cat jumped up onto my bed and laid against my legs, waking me up.

I was fine enough with that and all, but what's got me freaked out, is that because I had the kata retaught to me in my dreams, I can remember the ENTIRE kata -now-, while I'm awake, and I won't be struggling to remember which move comes next or anything. Odd...very, odd.

Oh, and my moth she-boy, was silver, a quite a luxurious shade of silvery grey that shimmers in the light...

Freedome!

2007-07-15T15:21:00.000+08:00

Yes, I am free! Have been for a week actually, been staying up at my fathers, and I've been quite happy, which if any of you who have spoken to me recently will no doubt have noticed that I -seem- happier. And I was, I love my father, if he wants me to do something, he gives me a -reason- for it, other than 'because I said so'.

Like yesterday, he wanted me to get off the net, so I did. You know why? Because he wanted my help with shifting stuff. First I had to fill a trailor load of wood, two people with chainsaws, one carter, and I managed to keep up rather well with the loads. That was fine, then I had to help shift two...no, three bookcases (empty of course) and load them up onto a ute. Then, to top it all off, I helped load up a wallunit (a wardrobe like thing, hell heavy) onto a trailor.

My arms were twinging slightly about now. A fifteen minute drive, if not a bit more, and we get the joy of unloading the lot again. *sigh* my arms are now on strike, they're forming unions and refusing to work.

So you see, whenever my father asks me to do something, I can actually give a -reason- for it, and I get one back, one more definite than 'because I said so' or, 'because I don't want you to'

Yes, I have been happy, quietly, blissfully happy. And then mother dearest arrives for a few hours.

So, barely half an hour has passed and she's gone off at me, twice. *sighs* Figures eh? So my happy mood was gone, like that. Hence why I haven't posted actually, happiness is boring to post about, who wants to read about people being happy? It's boring.

Side note: Kill Bill 1&2 are -awesome- watched them the other day, and one quote just stuck with me, I love it!

Bill: ...why didn't you tell me?

Beatrice: I...I don't know, because I'm a bad person.

Bill: No no, you're not a bad person, you're a wonderful, nice, kind person. My favourite person, but sometimes, you're a real cunt.

I just love that little mini scene thing! It's so sad, so ....awwww ness and yet you laugh, he's going to stand, take those five steps and die but it's so sweet! They both still love each other, but they can't move from the path they've chosen, Beatrice for revenge and Bill from what he is...It's so sad, so sweet so...just awwwwww. <3

Life update!

2007-07-08T14:01:00.002+08:00

First off...I posted twice? o.o I didn't notice, honestly, and the reason neither post was actually finished was because my mind has been rather skittish recently. Refusing to concentrate on anything.

Lets see...what's been going on in my life? Mother dearest has decided to stop trying to control my life, since I have this knack for circumventing her attempts to, even while 'following' her 'orders'. So yes, things are happier now than they have been, since I am hiding my emotions and only showing those that she wishes to see. Smart alec-y sarcastic humour.

Oh, my art teacher likes what I've been painting, it's shells, a larger canvas done in shades of blue, and then a smaller one to go ontop done in shades of red and yellow. It looks rather nice actually, if I do say so myself. In a Lit test like thing, an in class essay, I think I did pretty well, I used quotes from three poems so that should get me brownie points if nothing else does.

My mother's boyfriend is trying to control me now, snapping at me and the like, which means that when mum pulls him up on it, he gets antzy and even worse. Because of his daughter, being a 6yo, he automatically assumes that the same methods would work on, and be appropriate for myself. It's frustrating you know? To be seen as a child, when you're almost an adult, legally, yet you know, in your entire body, that when you gain your majority they're going to treat you exactly the same?

Oh, and you know how I want to go travelling or whatever after school finishes? Mother dearest has somehow contrived that into being an insult against -her-, that I don't care about what she does etc, fair enough I don't, but I would have moved out at the end of school anyways, whether or not we got along better. I'd been planning it since I was about ....12 or so and the end of my school years was looming dangerously close on the horizon.

Mother dearest thinks that because I havent given her the details of exactly -how- I am going to acheive this, she thinks that I'm not going to. But I am damnit, I -am- going to travel, I -am- going to leave her house, and I -am- going to live on my own.

If all else fails, I'll live on a uni campus or something, it shouldn't cost too much extra, since my uni fees ought to be getting paid out in a couple years anyways, from a trust fund my parents started paying when I was like, two.

So yeah, there we go. An update of what has been going on in my life, not that it's terribly exciting, but bleh. Oh, and I have been semi-invited to a couple parties over the holidays, i doubt it will come to pass as the girl who invited me has absolutely no way of contacting me outside school. Figures eh?

The Frost.

2007-07-06T08:23:00.002+08:00

At dawn, after a bitter cold night
Silver crystal is what you see.
The sun, it does have a fight
to get the frost to flee.

The bitter cold wind will blow
to freeze the icy tear,
like water, it does flow
with the shivering of fear.

On the brittle, stiff grass,
a silver glittering shroud;
everything glinting like glass
a silver, spikey cloud.

Little frozen drops of dew,
coating each and every leaf.
And if greenery is too few,
grin, and it'll coat your teeth.

Ghostly plumes of air do float
way up into the sky,
drifting over the rocking boat,
floating away so high.

The sky that is so blue
and yet bitterly cold,
reflected in a drop of dew
collected in a crease or fold.

Standing, shivering in the dawn,
seeing the sun come creeping
and the frost to lose it's form,
will slowly still the weeping.

Don't growl at me, I wrote that a couple years ago, when I was ...about 14 I think. One of my earlier poems and not the standard that I usually have now in regards to my poetry. That wasn't today by the way, wasn't quite cold enough for the frost to be still visible when I was waiting for my bus, but on that day, it was. It looked almost like snow, except much...thinner, and more dirty since you can see the dead grass and the brown dirt through the frozen water.

I wonder if you'll pick up on the undertones of that poem? Most only see the brighter tones, the beauty I'm describing in the cold morning. Story of my childhood, you could say. Cold beauty yet...

How sweet I roamed from field to field

2007-07-05T12:57:00.001+08:00

How sweet I roamed from field to field,
And tasted all the summer's pride,
Till I the prince of love beheld,
Who in the sunny beams did glide!

He showed me lilies for my hair,
And blushing roses for my brow;
He led me through his gardens fair,
Where all his golden pleasures grow.

With sweet May dews my wings were wet,
and Phoebus fired my vocal rage;
He caught me in his silken net,
and shut me in his golden cage.

He loves to sit and hear me sing,
Then, laughing, sports and plays with me;
Then stretches out my golden wing,
And mocks my loss of liberty.

William Blake

One of my favourite poems by Blake, actually. I used it in the final exams last year, because it was the only poem I could recall, and be confident in my quoting...except for the little factor that I forgot what it was called XD Not like you need the name of the poem...just the lines, and the poet >_>

But I do like it, oddly enough, I can relate to the persona...no, don't look at me like that. I'm not THAT nuts.

And that is the summation of my thoughts for today...since I didn't get much sleep last night because of a dream I can't remember so i can't complain about it. But I feel like I've run for ages.

Kittties!

2007-07-04T18:54:00.000+08:00

When lacking coherent thought, smother the masses with kitten kyuteness.

Oh, and I got 84% in a math test ^_^ which is good, considering that I have been failing maths recently.

UR NOZE

put in more quarters!

monorailcat 2.0

Storm

2007-07-03T13:07:00.001+08:00

Silent, still, yet the ominous rumble of thunder
sounds in the distance.
Birds, crows, animals stand still and wait;
ears pricked for the sullen grumble.

A heavy, oppressive anticipation fills the air,
a flicker of light--
and then a crack! sending the creatures
scurrying, flapping, screaming for cover.

Silence reigns once more as the unseen
breath is held, anticipating.
And then, with a sharp, violent shcrrap!
the skies break open.

Heavy, fat drops of thunder born rain
cascade down, a bucket upending.
Overbearing water beating the earth
with merciless blows.

Heavier, fiercer, more violent come the blows
raining on the tender earth.
Then, a reprieve, the blows lighten,
the rain, it eases, and stops.

Silence, stillness, yet a steady drip of water
plopping onto the abused earth.
Eyes peer cautiously out, watching, waiting;
a low, sullen rumble sounds.

I wrote this a couple months ago now, in Math during a summer storm, it was rather nice actually.

Dreaming

2007-07-02T10:50:00.001+08:00

Yes, I had another dream...and this one was disturbing, even for me! Although it was rather simple, and short compared to some of my other dreams that is.

It started with me sitting at a vanity, you know the sort of thing, where there are drawers and a mirror and make-up and things? I glance up at my face in the mirror, but I don't look like myself, not exactly, it's like...a slight shift in my perceptions, as though I was looking at an ancestor, or a decendant or something, someone that looked like me, but -wasn't- me. That was bad enough, but then I picked up a blush brush (for the males reading this, it's a big, fluffy brush that women use to put blush- a tint powder thing- on their cheeks to colour them) and twirled it, brushing it over my face.

Bits of my face fell from the brush, like fine powder, my eyes were closed as I was doing this, so as to not get the bits of me in my eyes. My entire face brushed, I got a cloth and wiped the remaining little pieces away. I looked even less like the me I see in the mirror, it was more...ethreal, unearthly, yet captivating...haunting but not in a scary way you know? Haunting in a....dare I say it? In an oddly beautiful way...but an otherworldly way. The way that a siren would have been beautiful, if that helps any.

My face 'clean' I turned the brush to my arms and twirled it over my skin, dusting away. My skin flaked away like fine scales to fall to the floor as I methodically cleaned first one arm, and then the other of the dusting, the layer over who I really was. A reddish gold showed through the paleness of what my skin usually is (Seriously, I don't tan) the colour of rose gold, for the hue. Gold, but with a sheen of the palest red.

I again wiped away the final flakes with the cloth, my arms, neck, face bare of the artifice before I stood, and in turning from the dark wood of the beuro (sp?) the dream faded, but peacefully. Like the exhalation of a pleased sigh.

Very...odd. To say the least.

My Harp

2007-06-30T01:31:00.001+08:00

Ebony, mahogony,
lithe, curved, carved--
the essence of perfection.
Strings, wires, steel, seat;
how patiently you await me.

I sit before you, infront of you,
my arms and legs wrap around you
and hold your body close.
My fingers rest on you--
waiting, while you tremble.

Quivering, anxious, yearning
you strive towards that one need--
that reaching desire.
My fingers move, they dance
across you and you respond joyously.

Sweet notes pour forth, filling
the air with a melody of
heartbreaking sadness;
of bittersweet joy.

I stroke you, I caress
and my hands glide over your body.
Cascading notes shiver in
the sweet song, the melody
we make together.

My fingers dance over your strings,
my hands and arms glide
over your body, caressing
the perfect, lithe curves.

Through the air sings our song
the sweet melody
that is nothing more, nor less
than the pure music,
the sound of my soul.

Do not judge me.

2007-06-28T20:32:00.000+08:00

Don't judge me, don't look at me and condemn me with your eyes, your oh so subtle slights. For in judging me you are judging yourself, and by condemning me you are finding yourself wanting. I am no more, nor less than you, I do not judge you, I'll not find you wanting, for I have no right, yet you dare put that right over me?

You dare to look at me and think you know me, and what you know disgusts you, when what you know is only rumour? Gossip? And you -dare- to think that you are better than I, that you know what I am like, what I like, what is in my head, better than I do, and in that knowing, you are superior to me?

You may perhaps wonder what prompted this post? It's really quite simple, as all my rants tend to be. Mother dearest. You recall me mentioning that she had called the school and told my year team leader, explicit details of what I was like, what I liked? Teachers seldom know when to keep their trap shut, and this is a classic example of such, the majority of the teachers, people I HAVE NO IDEA WHO THEY ARE know me by name, greet me and I see that fucking look in their eyes. That they've judged me and found me wanting for being different from them, from what's 'normal'.

Understandably, I am a little bit annoyed.

It's like....you can tell you know? The way people look at you, then glance aside, the slight twitch of their features that they think they controlled, and most telling of all, how fast they vacated a room when I entered. What RIGHT do they have? By what high ideal can they point to and say with certainty, 'this is why i'm better than you?'.

*sighs*

You understand perhaps, why I say that I have next to no privacy? Mother dearest has told EVERYONE she knows that she's having problems with me, EVERY fucking person that knows me, through her, knows. And she wonders why I dislike her so? I mean, we were going fairly well, mainly because I have recalled how very much I have to hide from her, about what I honestly think and feel.

I had forgotten that I had to, when I spent two years with my dad, just me and him. And consequently, she exploded on finding out what I thought and felt....so now I just have to hide it again. Ah well, you get that. I hide from everyone, no one, not one person among you who read my blog, know -everything- about me, even though I have invited you into my mind via this.

There is one that knows quite alot, and that's mainly because he's as perceptive as me, but the rest of you are floundering. No offence, but you are. I let him into my head before any of you, but I'm still waiting for him to turn tail and run, flee in disgust. As I wait for you likewise to do.

Oh, and Xin, I have read them. They're quite good, in a couple. But I'm just saying what my Lit teacher says. I just like the guys writing, who gives a toss about what he's trying to hint at? But then, you're a religious person, I am not so...*shrugs* it's well enough.

Blake

2007-06-27T08:18:00.000+08:00

Xin, psssh....most people take one look at that poem, it's length and just quail (?) whimper and say 'is too loooooong' and you want me to make it -longer-? Heh, ah well. Aside from the fact that I have next to no idea as to where next take the story... Even if I could keep it up at that level of poetry anyways, since I've slipped out of my poetic phaze, I'm writing short stories more often now. But anyways, lets get onto the topic of my post.

William Blake, a rather skilled poet and so on, he was also an artist, or so the theory goes, pro-christianity anti-church though. He's the only one of the poets that we have to study that I actually -like-, and as such, I can recall a great many more of his poems than almost any other. Which is a boon in itself I suppose.

As I went from field to field is one of my favourites, I actually used it last year in my lit exam heh. I also like The Fly, a nice, short poem actually. I'd type them up, but I currently do not have them with me, and I'm not confident enough in my memory of them to be able to quote them accurately, or adequately and that would be a far greater injustice than by simply omitting them.

Another poet that I like, Lord Byron, well...one of his poems, Fare thee well is rather good, albeit a rather -long- poem. It's about this father bidding farewell to his wife/lover, lamenting the separation.

But tis done, all words are idle
words from me are vainer still,
and the undying thoughts which bridle
force their way without the will.

Fare thee well-- thus disunited
torn from every nearer tie,
alone in heart, and soul, and blighted;
more than this I scarce can die.

Last two stanza's, rather nice I think. It's got something like 23 verses, so ...yeah. And that's the bell to start yet another day, unfortunately. Until then, fare thee well.

A couple of things

2007-06-26T08:22:00.000+08:00

First off, yes Xin, I -did- write 'The Grassy Hill', if I didn't I would have acknowledged the author, as I have with all other poems that I haven't written myself so it really shouldn't be that hard to believe :P But thanks for the glowing response regardless, if you think a couple passages were difficult to follow in -that- poem, you should read one of my other poems (I might post it...later on) there's one line, or rather two in the first stanza that I'm still not happy with. -_- that is an awkward rhyming scheme.

Second, since I doubt you go back and re-read the comments, I've taken to replying to them on my next post so that you still get a reply and others get the hint to -read- the dratted things :P Yeah...I know that the story went off on a tanjent slightly, it wasn't entirely intentional, just giving a background of the narrator and the brother and things, a bit on the society. It was a 30 minute quickie, so...yeah. If you honestly desire to read more about that tale, I suppose I could write some more up, I had -intended- it to be a detective story-like thing, but well....I've reached the conclusion I'm not detectively inclined. >_>

Third, the actual reason why I decided to post; Uni. It's big. Scary. I dun like it. I spent yesterday at Curtin University for an English conference thingy, and I got lost before I'd even started...and then when I found where I was supposed to be, I got lost again...looking for the next venue which I'll have you know, was at the OPPOSITE end of the campus. -_- And I asked for directions and even had a MAP and I -still- got lost. Dun tease me, I has no friends :(

But my directional faux pas aside, it wasn't too bad, hour long lectures and the like, cafe's bloody -everywhere-, literally. A couple were actually useful, the Othello, Texts and Contexts and the first lecture that slips my mind...ah, No Sugar...no...bah. Can't remember it, were actually fairly good. No Sugar had very little to do with the actual story, it was mostly about the type of story it was, a frame story with two narrators yaddah yaddah yaddah...I fell asleep in that lecture >_> What! I was tired. I'd worked the night before, went to bed at 11pm, got up at 6.30am where I was looking forward to sleeping into 7, I worked again last night after getting a major brain-drain from the lectures...*sighs* So yes, to say I'm a little bit dead today would be an understatement.

Oh and Xin, I am of the same opinion that a mutual....friend, lets say, has. It royally -sucked- that your school wasn't there. Then I wouldn't have been quite as much of a loner in the Lit lectures. *sulks* Although she was saying that it would be so she could hang out with you and all that jazz...gods, I know it's very bad of me to say this, but I -hate- selfish people. And yes, I know I'm being hypocritical with that statement, hence why I try to be as unselfish as I can. Not that mother dearest believes that but lets not go into -that- little subject shall we?

She also told me a tale of you being a right moron, wasabe is -hot-. You do NOT eat LOTS OF IT at once and expect to keep your dignity. It doesn't happen. Sushi = good. Sushi + soy sauce = good. Sushi + wasabe = edible. Wasabe(i?) = BAD. Do try to remember that next time you get dared to make a fool of yourself sweetie.