Hehehe....got the expected reaction.
And here I was thinking I finally brought you over to see the light, only to have your ginormous ego cast a shadow over it.
Talk it up Angela. I love you, no question, and would die for your life, but don't get hopeful. I'll always be your friend.
Love,
Xin.
Since most of you wouldnt bother about reading the comments. And Xin, you leave my ego out of it, it's the only part of my self esteem thats higher than like, three milimitres tall. Do you not have a large ego yourself? Do not we all?
Ah well.
Oh! and another reaction that's opened my eyes a bit, and I'm rather relieved to. Ty, the first guy I ever loved, remember him? Although I didn't mention his name, well...he tried to kill himself as a reaction. He succeeded, but thankfully the hospital brought him back. He shouldn't be mobile for months, but he logged onto yahoo for some reason, and since I'd been stressing a little...well alot, about him, it was a great relief to know he was alive, even though he was a bit foolish. Well, more than a bit.
That's it, I'm not gonna be so stupid as telling anyone when I'm considering killing myself, I'll just vanish, but even that'll be a long time coming, especially given the chain reaction that seems to have occured. o.o
And I'll have you know, that twas this reaction I expected to occur that stopped me. So yeah, I care more about others than myself, and at least I can stand tall, proud, and say that I'm not like most suicidal people, I didn't stop for myself, I stopped for others. I'm not alive from selfish reasons, nor my self-preservation instinct, but from the simple fact that I don't want anyone else to die because of it, and from there, those that care about -them-....No. No.
*sighs* Great, I'm a catalyst for a whole chain of deaths. I'm not entirely sure if I should be happy about that or not, but gods know, it's a bloody heavy burden to bear, all these lives on my shoulders, relying on -my- life...
Monday, 4 June 2007
Sunday, 3 June 2007
Victory?
Well, aside from having a seriously sore ass, and my legs are aching, I believe I've won. I mean, I'm part of the family again and all that. I got a lift home last night, even though I was quite willing to ride home at 11.30pm, again. Dog tired, but I would have done it, how else was I to get home hmm?
Yes well, about half an hour after I posted my last, I got ready and left. Mother dearest had no idea where I went or anything of the sort. I actually dropped by some old friends, and my front tire has a leak -_- A fairly major one actually. pump it up, and 15 minutes later it's flat. And that's without riding it!
Figures. *sighs* So, yeah, I need to find the bloody leak, patch my tire, but my mothers bf is willing to help me there. So that's all good. Also, yesterday I dropped by a doctors and got the number for a psychologist. Not sure if I'm actually going to call him and set up an appointment or anything but...*shrugs* yeah.
Lessee...what else...hmm. Not much really, just back into the humdrum of society, studying for my exams...getting a bit worried myself about a couple of my friends, I haven't seen them, no one has seen them, since I was idiotic.
I hope they're okay....
Edited bit, added afterwards coz I was seriously bored.
Okay, so here I am, going back through my previous posts and I've noticed something that no doubt most of you have....very, very, very few of them are actually happy, and stay happy. I honestly don't remember being that sad, I mean, I'm not sad at the moment, but it's not a happy post none the less you know? It's...odd.
And I've noticed something, well, several somethings actually. But it's all to do with one guy, a friend of mine, Xin. I'm not entirely sure how he'll react to this, and I'll most likely be way off but...well. Here goes.
The morning after I posted my goodbye, 'fucking mother', he panicked, literally. Calling quite a few people at 6.30 in the morning, including me, but mother dearest had my phone so he left me a voicemail message. There was a catch in his voice, and since it was the last of things that I reaquainted myself with after getting my phone back, something sort of clicked.
All the time that I've known him, he's been expounding on the value of love, and how wonderful it is, consequently I didn't think too much of it, when he posted a comment on my idiocy and ended it with 'I love you too'. That was the first thing. And then, when I found out how much he'd worried and what he'd done, trying to find out about me and discover if I'm okay, another little piece fell into place.
I texted him when I got my phone back, saying that I was fine and all that...I was still rather down, having been crying all day, as you'll have noticed a couple posts ago. A few texts later, he asked if he could ring me, mobile or landline, I replied mobile since I doubt that mother dearest would let me use the landline. So he called me. Now, let me tell you, this is -very- out of the ordinary. He never calls me, I never call him, we interact more over email (once in a blue moon almost) than text. We spoke for a fair while, and my better spirits I contribute directly to him. I thank you.
Now, what is my epiphany you ask? Aside from the fact that he was very worried and that he cares about me, I.... have the faintest, well, not so faint, that he genuinely loves me. And not in the way a friend would love a friend, even if they are good friends. As I said, the voicemail that I got from him, the last thing I caught up on, was the clincher, and that little catch in his voice... I don't know, and he'll probably hit me for saying this but...how many males, especially teenaged males, cry? Or are even willing to call and leave a message for a perceptive friend, a friend that would (and did) pick up on such a thing in their voice? It's like how Daniel --> Check the friends test, got so high on it... and how he invariably, and usually, picks up on when I'm feeling less than myself, less happy than I usually am not heh. He picks up on the little things about me, I pick up on the little things about almost everyone else. It's...curious.
And won't it be interesting, to see how Xin reacts to my thoughtful ponderings? Knowing him, he most likely will deny it...publicly at least.
Yes well, about half an hour after I posted my last, I got ready and left. Mother dearest had no idea where I went or anything of the sort. I actually dropped by some old friends, and my front tire has a leak -_- A fairly major one actually. pump it up, and 15 minutes later it's flat. And that's without riding it!
Figures. *sighs* So, yeah, I need to find the bloody leak, patch my tire, but my mothers bf is willing to help me there. So that's all good. Also, yesterday I dropped by a doctors and got the number for a psychologist. Not sure if I'm actually going to call him and set up an appointment or anything but...*shrugs* yeah.
Lessee...what else...hmm. Not much really, just back into the humdrum of society, studying for my exams...getting a bit worried myself about a couple of my friends, I haven't seen them, no one has seen them, since I was idiotic.
I hope they're okay....
Edited bit, added afterwards coz I was seriously bored.
Okay, so here I am, going back through my previous posts and I've noticed something that no doubt most of you have....very, very, very few of them are actually happy, and stay happy. I honestly don't remember being that sad, I mean, I'm not sad at the moment, but it's not a happy post none the less you know? It's...odd.
And I've noticed something, well, several somethings actually. But it's all to do with one guy, a friend of mine, Xin. I'm not entirely sure how he'll react to this, and I'll most likely be way off but...well. Here goes.
The morning after I posted my goodbye, 'fucking mother', he panicked, literally. Calling quite a few people at 6.30 in the morning, including me, but mother dearest had my phone so he left me a voicemail message. There was a catch in his voice, and since it was the last of things that I reaquainted myself with after getting my phone back, something sort of clicked.
All the time that I've known him, he's been expounding on the value of love, and how wonderful it is, consequently I didn't think too much of it, when he posted a comment on my idiocy and ended it with 'I love you too'. That was the first thing. And then, when I found out how much he'd worried and what he'd done, trying to find out about me and discover if I'm okay, another little piece fell into place.
I texted him when I got my phone back, saying that I was fine and all that...I was still rather down, having been crying all day, as you'll have noticed a couple posts ago. A few texts later, he asked if he could ring me, mobile or landline, I replied mobile since I doubt that mother dearest would let me use the landline. So he called me. Now, let me tell you, this is -very- out of the ordinary. He never calls me, I never call him, we interact more over email (once in a blue moon almost) than text. We spoke for a fair while, and my better spirits I contribute directly to him. I thank you.
Now, what is my epiphany you ask? Aside from the fact that he was very worried and that he cares about me, I.... have the faintest, well, not so faint, that he genuinely loves me. And not in the way a friend would love a friend, even if they are good friends. As I said, the voicemail that I got from him, the last thing I caught up on, was the clincher, and that little catch in his voice... I don't know, and he'll probably hit me for saying this but...how many males, especially teenaged males, cry? Or are even willing to call and leave a message for a perceptive friend, a friend that would (and did) pick up on such a thing in their voice? It's like how Daniel --> Check the friends test, got so high on it... and how he invariably, and usually, picks up on when I'm feeling less than myself, less happy than I usually am not heh. He picks up on the little things about me, I pick up on the little things about almost everyone else. It's...curious.
And won't it be interesting, to see how Xin reacts to my thoughtful ponderings? Knowing him, he most likely will deny it...publicly at least.
Saturday, 2 June 2007
Plan
Yes, I have a plan. After being asked frequently if I have one, I've decided to tell you all what I intend to do.
First up, she is NOT going to win I am not going to apologise. And if need be, I'll move out before the end of the fricking month.
And to ensure that, I have to go shopping, for a bike light and a bike chain, since I think I'll be riding home alot in the dark...and so my bike will stay where I bloody well put it.
Then...well, then I'll start looking for a place to rent, that's around the area I live, so that I can still get to the bus and go to school, and then go to work as well.
From then on, I'm taking each day pretty much as it comes. I'm basically on my own now, except that I don't have to pay rent. Ah well, it's no biggie.
On the plus side, the 6 year old in the house wont be drawing much of mother dearests ire, since I'll be getting the brunt of it yay. And I've proven to both her and myself, that I don't need her for the things she thought I needed her for, transport. She reckons that I'll beg for a lift when it's too hot, or raining. And from THAT little assumption, you know know me should be able to guess my reaction? I'm not going to ask her for a lift. Ever. Anywhere.
But gods, my ass hurts! Biking 20k kills the lower body, especially uphill. -_- But it's very soothing riding at night you know, calming... And a plus not, I won't be fat any more, if I have to do all my transportation via either walking or biking, 10k to and from work will burn off a fair few kilo's.
So yeah, that's my thoughts for today, that and I'm in an apathetic mood so...meh. *shrugs* Ah well, have a good one aye?
First up, she is NOT going to win I am not going to apologise. And if need be, I'll move out before the end of the fricking month.
And to ensure that, I have to go shopping, for a bike light and a bike chain, since I think I'll be riding home alot in the dark...and so my bike will stay where I bloody well put it.
Then...well, then I'll start looking for a place to rent, that's around the area I live, so that I can still get to the bus and go to school, and then go to work as well.
From then on, I'm taking each day pretty much as it comes. I'm basically on my own now, except that I don't have to pay rent. Ah well, it's no biggie.
On the plus side, the 6 year old in the house wont be drawing much of mother dearests ire, since I'll be getting the brunt of it yay. And I've proven to both her and myself, that I don't need her for the things she thought I needed her for, transport. She reckons that I'll beg for a lift when it's too hot, or raining. And from THAT little assumption, you know know me should be able to guess my reaction? I'm not going to ask her for a lift. Ever. Anywhere.
But gods, my ass hurts! Biking 20k kills the lower body, especially uphill. -_- But it's very soothing riding at night you know, calming... And a plus not, I won't be fat any more, if I have to do all my transportation via either walking or biking, 10k to and from work will burn off a fair few kilo's.
So yeah, that's my thoughts for today, that and I'm in an apathetic mood so...meh. *shrugs* Ah well, have a good one aye?
Friday, 1 June 2007
Events
Alright, here’s what’s been happening so far in my life, a lot over less than 24 hours now that I think on it. This is prewritten on word by the way, for short and easy blogging when I manage to sneak a few minutes or whatever online, so excuse the lack of proper formatting.
I go to school, I post on my blog as you no doubt have noticed, and find out about…oh, fifteen minutes into the first period, that my year leader wants to see me. So I go and see her, mother dearest has spilled to her, told her all the ‘disgusting’ and ‘filthy’ things I do, that I like BDSM and all that. It’s fun, you should try it some time :P
I also find out, that a concerned friend of mine Xin, called another friend of mine who will remain unnamed, trying to find out where I lived. I can’t fault him for that, I mean, he was, is the only rl friend I’ve got that was actually worried about me, so worried that he was close to panicking. My other ‘friend’, his ex girlfriend, promptly told my year leader that she got a call at 6.30am and was worried about me. Lip service essentially.
I find all this out, from the year leader, while I’m just sitting there, numb, with the odd well… not so odd, tear escaping to trail down my cheek. Mother dearest also messaged my ‘friend’ to find out if I arrived at school okay. Of course, the school now knows that I’m suicidal, and they’re all concerned for me, the couple of people I told are surprised but concerned, after all, I don’t cry real often. But, comfort isn’t exactly what I want when I’m in the pits of depression you know? That numb, blank, black feeling and all you want is to be left alone? That’s what I wanted.
On gmail I spoke to another concerned friend, he’s over in mexico, and the first thing he said to me was ‘jesus woman you made me sweat! But goddess I’m glad you’re alive.’ That started my tears again, understandably. He started the lifting of my spirits, by threatening silly things, like if I was determined to stay sad, he’d spam me with pictures of fluffy rabbits and the like. Heh, my first smile of the day.
So I check my blog, I’m quite honestly surprised at how many replies I got, and how many people were so concerned from my leaving. It even went so far, that as mother dearest had taken my phone that one of my friends who understandably I suppose was almost mad with grief at the thought of me gone, gave her a death threat. ‘you kill my friends, I kill you’.
While I can understand his point of view and reaction but…mother dearest unfortunately cannot, so she sent the message to her phone and is threatening to get him locked up for intent to murder or whatever. I find this out when I get home, I got my ass chewed on my her bf who went ballistic, and then by –her- who didn’t really care for the threat you know? So, after having a horrid day, in which there were two high points, in the interhouse debating my team won, and on a lit essay I got 73% (previous scores around the 50 mark) but of course, they don’t know that, they don’t care do they?
It figures you know, -I- am the one depressed, the one that’s suicidal, and what does she do? Punish me for it. I’m no longer part of her family, figures eh? I have to walk or ride everywhere, to work and back again. Guess I’ll be biking back here tonight at what, 11pm? Yay, I think I’ll pack a torch to see by.
I don't let -anyone- in there you know? it's my head, you can piss the fuck off.
But I'm in a better mood now anyways, so yeah.
Thursday, 31 May 2007
Weakness.
Yes, I'm weak.
I'm still alive. Isn't that stupid? I'm too weak to even walk down the path I set before myself. You know what stopped me? You.
Each and every one of you. The thought of how much you would be hurt, the repercussions of my leaving. I don't want to start a chain reaction of people leaving, that's not what I wanted.
So, now I live not for myself, but for others. And then, for only long enough to ensure that you no longer care for me, so that when I leave, you will not be hurt.
You know what's ironic? Psychologists and the like say that wanting to leave, is a cry for attention and not usually 'real'. But I -hate- the attention, the fuss that is the result of me admitting that I want to leave, asap. Why can't they just leave me alone?
It's nice you know, to ...have some affirmation that you're loved. But I don't want to hurt people. Which is why this is being posted up, because I don't want to hurt people. I'm a coward, I'm weak, weakened by my care for you, my love for others.
As said, I live not for myself, but for others, and only long enough to ensure that you do not care for me any longer.
This school is too nosey, the year leader person, head of my year, is worried about me as well. I don't care, why can't you just leave me alone? Let me vanish into the words, my studies, my books. That which I'm typing, why can you not leave me alone to vanish into my mind in peace? Why must you prod, poke and pry, condemn me with your eyes for that which I am, for my having no self-esteem, for the very things I enjoy because they give me the illusion of a value?
I am worthless, I know this, I've been told this repeatedly over the past few hours by the authority figures in my life. I'm worthless because I'm not keeping everything 'clean'. *sighs*
I hate this, this fuss, this bother, the concern. Why do you care? It's just a lie anyways, my entire life is built on a lie, that is all that I know, all I can do, all that I've ever known, is a lie. I hate myself, and you should too.
I'm still alive. Isn't that stupid? I'm too weak to even walk down the path I set before myself. You know what stopped me? You.
Each and every one of you. The thought of how much you would be hurt, the repercussions of my leaving. I don't want to start a chain reaction of people leaving, that's not what I wanted.
So, now I live not for myself, but for others. And then, for only long enough to ensure that you no longer care for me, so that when I leave, you will not be hurt.
You know what's ironic? Psychologists and the like say that wanting to leave, is a cry for attention and not usually 'real'. But I -hate- the attention, the fuss that is the result of me admitting that I want to leave, asap. Why can't they just leave me alone?
It's nice you know, to ...have some affirmation that you're loved. But I don't want to hurt people. Which is why this is being posted up, because I don't want to hurt people. I'm a coward, I'm weak, weakened by my care for you, my love for others.
As said, I live not for myself, but for others, and only long enough to ensure that you do not care for me any longer.
This school is too nosey, the year leader person, head of my year, is worried about me as well. I don't care, why can't you just leave me alone? Let me vanish into the words, my studies, my books. That which I'm typing, why can you not leave me alone to vanish into my mind in peace? Why must you prod, poke and pry, condemn me with your eyes for that which I am, for my having no self-esteem, for the very things I enjoy because they give me the illusion of a value?
I am worthless, I know this, I've been told this repeatedly over the past few hours by the authority figures in my life. I'm worthless because I'm not keeping everything 'clean'. *sighs*
I hate this, this fuss, this bother, the concern. Why do you care? It's just a lie anyways, my entire life is built on a lie, that is all that I know, all I can do, all that I've ever known, is a lie. I hate myself, and you should too.
Wednesday, 30 May 2007
Fucking mother.
Great, just fucking great.
Mother dearest is reading through my fucking messages on my phone, isn't it absolutely -wonderful- to have no fucking privacy? News flash mother! I'M A TEENAGER AND I DO HAVE HORMONES!
She wants me to be the perfect little innocent child I was, the one that doesn't know anything about fucking boys, doesn't want anything to do with them or ...you know. Consequently, she wants me to be as pure as a fucking six year old, her 'baby'.
I FUCKING HATE HER! I don't care what anyone says, I've had it. I hate her i hate her i hate her i hate her i hate her i hate her i hate her. I HATE HER.
Now she's yelling at me. great. Isn't this fan-bloody-fucking-tastic? This is it, the final fucking straw.
Confiscating my phone, reading my messages, invading my FUCKING PRIVACY. Fine. I'm gone. From her life, from all your lives. Sorry if this hurts any of you, but this is what I have to do.
I have to. Don't you see? I can't fucking stand this any more.
Sorry for not telling you sooner, all of you, but I love you. There should be more love in the world. More joy.
I'm sorry for the sadness I'm no doubt causing, but I can't deal with this, not any more. I give up, she's won.
Goodbye.
Mother dearest is reading through my fucking messages on my phone, isn't it absolutely -wonderful- to have no fucking privacy? News flash mother! I'M A TEENAGER AND I DO HAVE HORMONES!
She wants me to be the perfect little innocent child I was, the one that doesn't know anything about fucking boys, doesn't want anything to do with them or ...you know. Consequently, she wants me to be as pure as a fucking six year old, her 'baby'.
I FUCKING HATE HER! I don't care what anyone says, I've had it. I hate her i hate her i hate her i hate her i hate her i hate her i hate her. I HATE HER.
Now she's yelling at me. great. Isn't this fan-bloody-fucking-tastic? This is it, the final fucking straw.
Confiscating my phone, reading my messages, invading my FUCKING PRIVACY. Fine. I'm gone. From her life, from all your lives. Sorry if this hurts any of you, but this is what I have to do.
I have to. Don't you see? I can't fucking stand this any more.
Sorry for not telling you sooner, all of you, but I love you. There should be more love in the world. More joy.
I'm sorry for the sadness I'm no doubt causing, but I can't deal with this, not any more. I give up, she's won.
Goodbye.
Tuesday, 29 May 2007
Religion
My RE (religious education) teacher is awesome. Like, literally. She's not a bible basher, but rather an RE teacher that teaches us to -think- rather than indoctrinate us into what we 'are' going to believe. It's wonderful, that I can do an assignment for that subject, and I don't have to worry about what I'm typing, who I'll offend nor have to censor my words and be careful as to what I type, the meaning behind my words.
It's a relief you know, to be able to poke such fun at the religious theories of the world, since I was comparing Hinduism and Catholicism, and being an Aethiest, I could and did, objectively view both religions, compare one to the other and state the pro's and con's of both. It's rather sweet you know? Since she actively encourages me to say what I think in my essays, and it's a releif to not have to worry about the level of language needed too. It's a nice easy subject, much easier than lit or history, essay wise, and human biol doesn't require essay writing.
Ah well, and that's about the sum of my thoughts for today, given that I'm cold, I'm over studying and exams are in two weeks, and I'm a little bit brain drained.
It's a relief you know, to be able to poke such fun at the religious theories of the world, since I was comparing Hinduism and Catholicism, and being an Aethiest, I could and did, objectively view both religions, compare one to the other and state the pro's and con's of both. It's rather sweet you know? Since she actively encourages me to say what I think in my essays, and it's a releif to not have to worry about the level of language needed too. It's a nice easy subject, much easier than lit or history, essay wise, and human biol doesn't require essay writing.
Ah well, and that's about the sum of my thoughts for today, given that I'm cold, I'm over studying and exams are in two weeks, and I'm a little bit brain drained.
Monday, 28 May 2007
Reminiscence; cat-o'-nine-tails
Three days later, and I'm still in a lovely little glow from getting to speak with one of my loves, this happy little moment in time... bask in my happiness, for it will not last.
I'll give it about...oh, three days or so, and then mother dearest will do something, say something that will just throw my quiet little joy out the window. Figures eh? I mean, it's what she always does isn't it?
But! I've found something that heightens my little joy into something greater, jealousy. Oh no, not mine, others. It amazes me, at how many people who know me, are, or would be jealous. It's cute you know? I mean, one of those I told about my loves, I didn't think he really cared all that much about me, or anything, and yet he admitted to being jealous, after I prodded him about it. After all, he was fairly seething and green with it. It's so cute! Another friend of mine, he's got a girlfriend and even though he likes me, I know I'm second choice and always will be so it's no biggie, but even -he- was jealous!
Yeah, I know, I'm bragging. But how often does one girl have the loving adoration of one man, let alone two? And these two are neatly making all the other male friends of my aquaintance (even some of the female because they're so sweet) jealous! Even though they won't admit it, the pair of them are Players, you know, the sort of people that tend to break hearts? You ask what I have to base this on? They've admitted to me, on separate occasions, on saying things just for the reaction. After wading my way through their ego's (took a while, let me tell you) to actually the real person behind the bluff, it's...well, they're sweeter than candy. So, here you have a girl, finishing her final year in school with a player's heart in the palm of her hand, and not just one either, nooo...but two. One in each hand, cherished, held close, treasured all the more for the gift that they are.
Oh, and they wouldn't -dream- of trying to break my heart, it would have the unfortunate repercussion of shattering their own, since neither can bear to see me cry, or sad. *hums happily* I feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
Okay, that's enough of being mushy, let's get onto something more gruesome. Here are some common phrazes to dissect.
'Dont let the cat out of the bag'- from British ships, the cat-o'-nine-tails was kept in a burlap sack on board, someplace public as a threat and reminder of the consequences of misbehaviour.
'cat got your tongue?'- the pain of being flayed by a cat-o'-nine-tails was so great that when you drew in your breath to scream, you physically couldn't. Literally.
'Not enough room to swing a cat'- from the actual style of how you use the cat-o'-nine-tails. You had to swing it over your head swiftly in a circle to build up momentum before flaying the unfortunates back. Because the 'cat' was such a large whip, flaying habitually occured outside, indoors and you're liable to damage the walls.
'i'll scratch your back, if you'll scratch mine'- also applicable to the cat, there was the option of having a friend or relative flay the unfortunate, and them in turn be flayed. So it goes that 'i'll go easy on you, if you'll go easy on me'. How you can be gentle while flaying someone with that whip is beyond me, but there you have it.
Now, some of you have next to no idea about what a cat-o'-nine-tails is. It's obviously a whip, but it's a particularly nasty one. Nine 'tails', nine strips of leather about a metre and a half, to two metres long (4-6.5 feet or so) attached to a wood and leather handle. Not so bad you think? It's only 9 strips of leather landing on the flesh of my back right? Wrong. For what made the cat such a malicious and effective whip as that on the ends of those strips of leather, there were bits of iron/steel.
However, they did not have to be balls of metal, though they did more than enough damage, no they could be triangular barb-like structures that literally bit in and then tore the flesh from your back.
Lovely form of punishment, isn't it? Now, perhaps you'll understand why the phrases I put forward earlier are still so binding now, and why the 'cat' could, and did, literally steal your tongue.
Aren't I just a goldmine of useless, and downright -disturbing- information?
I'll give it about...oh, three days or so, and then mother dearest will do something, say something that will just throw my quiet little joy out the window. Figures eh? I mean, it's what she always does isn't it?
But! I've found something that heightens my little joy into something greater, jealousy. Oh no, not mine, others. It amazes me, at how many people who know me, are, or would be jealous. It's cute you know? I mean, one of those I told about my loves, I didn't think he really cared all that much about me, or anything, and yet he admitted to being jealous, after I prodded him about it. After all, he was fairly seething and green with it. It's so cute! Another friend of mine, he's got a girlfriend and even though he likes me, I know I'm second choice and always will be so it's no biggie, but even -he- was jealous!
Yeah, I know, I'm bragging. But how often does one girl have the loving adoration of one man, let alone two? And these two are neatly making all the other male friends of my aquaintance (even some of the female because they're so sweet) jealous! Even though they won't admit it, the pair of them are Players, you know, the sort of people that tend to break hearts? You ask what I have to base this on? They've admitted to me, on separate occasions, on saying things just for the reaction. After wading my way through their ego's (took a while, let me tell you) to actually the real person behind the bluff, it's...well, they're sweeter than candy. So, here you have a girl, finishing her final year in school with a player's heart in the palm of her hand, and not just one either, nooo...but two. One in each hand, cherished, held close, treasured all the more for the gift that they are.
Oh, and they wouldn't -dream- of trying to break my heart, it would have the unfortunate repercussion of shattering their own, since neither can bear to see me cry, or sad. *hums happily* I feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
Okay, that's enough of being mushy, let's get onto something more gruesome. Here are some common phrazes to dissect.
'Dont let the cat out of the bag'- from British ships, the cat-o'-nine-tails was kept in a burlap sack on board, someplace public as a threat and reminder of the consequences of misbehaviour.
'cat got your tongue?'- the pain of being flayed by a cat-o'-nine-tails was so great that when you drew in your breath to scream, you physically couldn't. Literally.
'Not enough room to swing a cat'- from the actual style of how you use the cat-o'-nine-tails. You had to swing it over your head swiftly in a circle to build up momentum before flaying the unfortunates back. Because the 'cat' was such a large whip, flaying habitually occured outside, indoors and you're liable to damage the walls.
'i'll scratch your back, if you'll scratch mine'- also applicable to the cat, there was the option of having a friend or relative flay the unfortunate, and them in turn be flayed. So it goes that 'i'll go easy on you, if you'll go easy on me'. How you can be gentle while flaying someone with that whip is beyond me, but there you have it.
Now, some of you have next to no idea about what a cat-o'-nine-tails is. It's obviously a whip, but it's a particularly nasty one. Nine 'tails', nine strips of leather about a metre and a half, to two metres long (4-6.5 feet or so) attached to a wood and leather handle. Not so bad you think? It's only 9 strips of leather landing on the flesh of my back right? Wrong. For what made the cat such a malicious and effective whip as that on the ends of those strips of leather, there were bits of iron/steel.
However, they did not have to be balls of metal, though they did more than enough damage, no they could be triangular barb-like structures that literally bit in and then tore the flesh from your back.
Lovely form of punishment, isn't it? Now, perhaps you'll understand why the phrases I put forward earlier are still so binding now, and why the 'cat' could, and did, literally steal your tongue.
Aren't I just a goldmine of useless, and downright -disturbing- information?
Saturday, 26 May 2007
The Raven; love
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
‘Tis some visitor,’ I muttered, ‘tapping at my chamber door;
Only this and nothing more.’
Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow, sorrow for the lost Lenore,
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.
Nameless here forevermore.
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
‘Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door,
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door.
This it is, and nothing more.’
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
‘Sir,’ said I ‘or madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is, I was napping, and so gently you came rapping
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you.’ Here I opened wide the door—
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token
And the only sound there spoken was the whispered word,
‘Lenore?’ this I whispered and an echo murmured back the word ‘Lenore!’
Merely this and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping, something louder than before,
‘Surely,’ said I, ‘surely, that is something at my window lattice,
Let me see then, what thereat it, and this mystery explore
Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore.
Tis the wind, and nothing more.’
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter
In there stepped a stately raven, of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door.
Perched upon a bust of Pallas, just above my chamber door.
Perched and sat, nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By this grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
‘Thou thy crest be shorn and shaven thou,’ said I, ‘art sure no craven,
Ghastly, grim, and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore.
Tell me what the lordly name is on the Nights Plutonian shore.’
Quoth the raven, ‘Nevermore.’
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning to relevancy bore,
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing a bird above his chamber door,
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such a name as ‘Nevermore’.
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
‘Doubtless,’ said I, ‘What it utters is its only stock and store
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster, till his songs one burden bore;
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of ‘Never—nevermore.’
I quite like it, don't you? But then, I'm a lass that adores Edgar Allen Poe, probably because I love horror, or thrillers, and all such things stem from Poe. Literally, you can find inspiration for ANY horror movie from something that Poe wrote if you go back far enough. It's fascinating no?
Love...such a bittersweet emotion. A very, very dear friend of mine, the first guy I actually felt comfortable with admitting that I loved him actually, contact me today. I'm torn between joy, as happy as anyone can be, that I can talk to him, catch up with him...and the blackest, darkest pits of despair because I know that this is only a brief interaction, and either I'll have to leave, or he will and our few precious, precious moments in time, will be over all to soon and all I'll have to hold will be the bittersweet memories.
Memories so sweet, so painful, yet all the more treasured.
We have a history you see, me and him. He was harmed, his heart shattered by women, and as a result he didn't trust us. I found him, and mended his heart. He tells me that the part of his heart that I occupy, is the space that will never break. You wonder why I love him so?
But, it's not just him that I adore, there's a friend of his. You'll remember, if you scroll down my blogs, to one of the ones in April, the poem? My friend who suicided, and missed? He, I love as much. So much that it hurts. How can a heart love with equal intensity, two different men? It hurts to love so...yet I wouldn't not want to know them for the world.
My samurai, my knight, my loves. How I miss you...
Thursday, 24 May 2007
Freo; ghosts and sleep.
Alright, giving you guys something of decent length to read for once :D
Last night I had a lit excursion thing to do with the book that we are reading Cloudstreet by Tim Winton, an aussie set and written story, alright I guess, I mainly liked the slang side of things. Anyways, it went from 3.30pm til ...9.15pm or so, and I am -tired- as. It was pretty good actually, we dropped by a couple of old houses, to look at them and then we went to Cicerellos for dinner (Fish and chips...yay, seafood is -so- not my thing). From there, a couple of photographs later, we were at the Fremantle Prison.
It's a rather infamous prison actually, if you're Aussie that is, you'll have heard of Moondyne Joe? The aussie Hiudini, litterally. He was in there, they had this special cell crafted for him, three foot (one metre) by five foot (Just over one and a half) out of solid jarra wood, there are numerous nails driven into the wood so that he couldn't scratch through it, and they had him bolted to the floor. This was the guy that was repeatedly captured, imprisoned and then repeatedly escaped. Fremantle was the last place he was held before they finally managed to execute him, in that self-same cell. He escaped once before, from that cell you know.
They took him outside, after a doctor said it was inhumane to treat a person so, and they set him to breaking rocks with a hammer. After a couple of weeks, the guards stopped taking the broken rocks away and he started piling them up infront of him until the guards could no longer see him. All well and good, they could still hear him chipping at those rocks right? Wrong, he was working on the wall instead. Yes, chipped a hole in the wall and crawled to freedome!
But that's enough about Joe.
We took the torchlight tour, which means that we each get widdle torches and get a tour, at night, around the prison, a prison I'll have you know, that is undeniably haunted. Everyone says so, the tour guides, psychics, you name it. As we were walking through, I was the backstop which meant that I got to be last through every door and shut the open ones behind me yay! It was awesome.
Course, me being me, I'm ...shall we say, sensitive to the paranormal. I know for a fact, that we were watched the entire tour from the second floor balcony by convicts (it's only open for tourism), and when there was no balcony, we were followed. I kept on seeing the silhouette of a fairly tall man, slightly heavy set, following us. That was fine, I mean, I'm used to that sort of thing you know? And what's so scary about being followed?
But, the rest of my class, being teenaged girls, didn't believe me and got overly freaked by the whole atmosphere. -I- only got freaked myself, when I entered the cell of one of the inmates. He had a specialised cell of his own, where everything, beds, chairs, whatever, had to be bolted to the floor otherwise he would use them as weapons against the guards. Nice bloke eh? Well, I was stickybeaking in his cell, for the simple reason that on the back wall, opposite of the door, was this absolutely awesome painting, I rather liked the painting. So there I was, stepping into his cell, and looking at this painting. I swear to you, I tell no lie, but not two minutes after stepping in, I felt something to my right, I ignored it, I mean, it was just the bed. I wasn't freaked until I heard a whisper in my right ear, a sibilant hiss holding the words
"Will you stay and keep my company?"
Now I did what any sane, normal girl would do...I froze, shook my head and said "Uh..no thanks, I have to go now." before all but bolting from the cell. I mean, he was a very VIOLENT criminal, exceptionally so and for a maximum security prison, that's saying something!
Water dripping, footsteps, people- convicts, inmates watching us as we went through the prison, glowing orbs of light...yeah, no problem. I can deal with that, I mean, it wasn't personal you know? But -that-, that little episode sent shivers down my spine.
But, I reccomend it actually, for everyone to go and experience the Fremantle Prison Torchlight tour. You might experience something paranormal and exciting like I did. :D
Oh, and sleeping. Ironically, once I got home after the tour, at around 10.30pm, I did my before bed stuff, you know, showering etc, and when my head hit that pillow I was out like a light, literally. Haven't slept so well in years...except that I had to wake up to deal with a little issue. *coughs* female problem and I'll leave it at that.
And so, I bid you adieu, enjoy the first decent sized post in ....well, a month or so.
Last night I had a lit excursion thing to do with the book that we are reading Cloudstreet by Tim Winton, an aussie set and written story, alright I guess, I mainly liked the slang side of things. Anyways, it went from 3.30pm til ...9.15pm or so, and I am -tired- as. It was pretty good actually, we dropped by a couple of old houses, to look at them and then we went to Cicerellos for dinner (Fish and chips...yay, seafood is -so- not my thing). From there, a couple of photographs later, we were at the Fremantle Prison.
It's a rather infamous prison actually, if you're Aussie that is, you'll have heard of Moondyne Joe? The aussie Hiudini, litterally. He was in there, they had this special cell crafted for him, three foot (one metre) by five foot (Just over one and a half) out of solid jarra wood, there are numerous nails driven into the wood so that he couldn't scratch through it, and they had him bolted to the floor. This was the guy that was repeatedly captured, imprisoned and then repeatedly escaped. Fremantle was the last place he was held before they finally managed to execute him, in that self-same cell. He escaped once before, from that cell you know.
They took him outside, after a doctor said it was inhumane to treat a person so, and they set him to breaking rocks with a hammer. After a couple of weeks, the guards stopped taking the broken rocks away and he started piling them up infront of him until the guards could no longer see him. All well and good, they could still hear him chipping at those rocks right? Wrong, he was working on the wall instead. Yes, chipped a hole in the wall and crawled to freedome!
But that's enough about Joe.
We took the torchlight tour, which means that we each get widdle torches and get a tour, at night, around the prison, a prison I'll have you know, that is undeniably haunted. Everyone says so, the tour guides, psychics, you name it. As we were walking through, I was the backstop which meant that I got to be last through every door and shut the open ones behind me yay! It was awesome.
Course, me being me, I'm ...shall we say, sensitive to the paranormal. I know for a fact, that we were watched the entire tour from the second floor balcony by convicts (it's only open for tourism), and when there was no balcony, we were followed. I kept on seeing the silhouette of a fairly tall man, slightly heavy set, following us. That was fine, I mean, I'm used to that sort of thing you know? And what's so scary about being followed?
But, the rest of my class, being teenaged girls, didn't believe me and got overly freaked by the whole atmosphere. -I- only got freaked myself, when I entered the cell of one of the inmates. He had a specialised cell of his own, where everything, beds, chairs, whatever, had to be bolted to the floor otherwise he would use them as weapons against the guards. Nice bloke eh? Well, I was stickybeaking in his cell, for the simple reason that on the back wall, opposite of the door, was this absolutely awesome painting, I rather liked the painting. So there I was, stepping into his cell, and looking at this painting. I swear to you, I tell no lie, but not two minutes after stepping in, I felt something to my right, I ignored it, I mean, it was just the bed. I wasn't freaked until I heard a whisper in my right ear, a sibilant hiss holding the words
"Will you stay and keep my company?"
Now I did what any sane, normal girl would do...I froze, shook my head and said "Uh..no thanks, I have to go now." before all but bolting from the cell. I mean, he was a very VIOLENT criminal, exceptionally so and for a maximum security prison, that's saying something!
Water dripping, footsteps, people- convicts, inmates watching us as we went through the prison, glowing orbs of light...yeah, no problem. I can deal with that, I mean, it wasn't personal you know? But -that-, that little episode sent shivers down my spine.
But, I reccomend it actually, for everyone to go and experience the Fremantle Prison Torchlight tour. You might experience something paranormal and exciting like I did. :D
Oh, and sleeping. Ironically, once I got home after the tour, at around 10.30pm, I did my before bed stuff, you know, showering etc, and when my head hit that pillow I was out like a light, literally. Haven't slept so well in years...except that I had to wake up to deal with a little issue. *coughs* female problem and I'll leave it at that.
And so, I bid you adieu, enjoy the first decent sized post in ....well, a month or so.
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