Verbal Liberation

I need an outlet. I really do. Here I am, sitting bored shitless (but ah my God, just finished watching Carl Barron- that man is hilariously ordinary, and is the source of my new found passion for crude words) and I don’t have any way to entertain myself other than you know, talking to you and you is really me so really this is completely pointless, or talking to people I don’t want to talk to purely because they said one bad thing to me. God, when did I get so fucking sensitive? I was going to write the word “sensitive” in caps, but decided to put the word “fucking” in front of it so it’d have more effect. Clever, eh? I love swearing. It’s just so liberating because it sounds so gosh darn awful and full of fucking real passion which is something most people find hard to deal with. Yet I fail completely when it comes to being a potmouth, you know, like OUT LOUD and stuff. I hate that expression (potmouth)- they’re just words. Whatever happened to ‘Sticks and stones may break my bones but words could never harm me,’? My God. It’s downloaded and now I have no excuse not to go on and cure my boredom by talking to people I kind of like, but not enough to work up the energy to sustain an actually [thrilling? Maybe that’s strecthing it a bit, Jesse. Let’s stick with “interesting”] conversation, which of course leads to an awkward... ‘Oh yes, I’m still here. You?(tonguey smile) LOL AHAHAHAHAHA.’ DON’T DO IT. EDUCATE YOURSELF ON HOW TO SPEAK SHAKESPEAREAN. Aha, let me share some with you. He’s quite brilliant.

1. Instead of you, say thou or thee(and instead of y’all,
say ye).
2. Rhymed couplets are all the rage.
3. Men are Sirrah, ladies are Mistress, and your friends are all called Cousin.
4. Instead of cursing, try calling your tormenters jackanapes or canker-blossoms or poisonous bunch-back’d toads.
5. Don’t waste time saying "it," just use the letter "t" (’tis, t’will, I’ll do’t).
6. Verse for lovers, prose for ruffians, songs for clowns.
7. When in doubt, add the letters "eth" to the end of verbs (he runneth, he trippeth, he falleth).
8. To add weight to your opinions, try starting them with methinks, mayhaps, in sooth or wherefore.
9. When wooing ladies: try comparing her to a summer’s day. If that fails, say "Get thee to a nunnery!"
10. When wooing lads: try dressing up like a man. If that fails, throw him in the Tower, banish his friends and claim the throne.

It’s a shame; I did find a better version during biology the other day. I mean, methinks I foundeth a bettereth version during biology on that fine summers day. Okay, I fail. I wish I could do rhyming couplets.
Oh, this is tres sad. I’m talking out loud to myself on a Saturday night. Why can’t I be Saturday Night Girl? I am alone. I hope you weren’t expecting a depressing speech, because there isn’t going to be one. I think I’ll just go read ‘The Bell Jar’. You know, that one about the girl who goes mental because she realises her husband or husband to be is a hypocrite and she hates him so much because he hates poetry and she’s a wannabe poet and then she goes and gasses herself in a gas chamber like a fucking lunatic? Yeah, that one. Good story, that.

when you throw a bunch of people together in a forest, they become more than just a bunch of people in a forest

I love Mondays. I really do.

I'm without original thought or opinion today, so I thought I'd just post some beautiful things that inspire me.

William Blake: The Tyger (1794)

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare sieze the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art.
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

tiny dancer





Heather Johns

Predictable SUV shows.
Not that there were any on tonight, but I did watch the Mentalist and yes, I do have homework I could be doing. Right now, in fact, but the night is young! I reckon I still have at least 4 hours in me if need be.

William Shakespeare and his wife Anne Hathaway
She must have inspired some of his work, so I'll give her a pinch of credit too.

Scientology
Or maybe just religion in general? But mainly Scientology at the moment. I'm fascinated by it yet so frustrated that it is utterly impossible to find any unbiased material on it. Suppose it's like that for all religions- faith is such a deeply personal thing.

Sylvia Plath: Insomniac
The night is only a sort of carbon paper,
Blueblack, with the much-poked periods of stars
Letting in the light, peephole after peephole --
A bonewhite light, like death, behind all things.
Under the eyes of the stars and the moon's rictus
He suffers his desert pillow, sleeplessness
Stretching its fine, irritating sand in all directions.

Over and over the old, granular movie
Exposes embarrassments--the mizzling days
Of childhood and adolescence, sticky with dreams,
Parental faces on tall stalks, alternately stern and tearful,
A garden of buggy rose that made him cry.
His forehead is bumpy as a sack of rocks.
Memories jostle each other for face-room like obsolete film stars.

He is immune to pills: red, purple, blue --
How they lit the tedium of the protracted evening!
Those sugary planets whose influence won for him
A life baptized in no-life for a while,
And the sweet, drugged waking of a forgetful baby.
Now the pills are worn-out and silly, like classical gods.
Their poppy-sleepy colors do him no good.

His head is a little interior of grey mirrors.
Each gesture flees immediately down an alley
Of diminishing perspectives, and its significance
Drains like water out the hole at the far end.
He lives without privacy in a lidless room,
The bald slots of his eyes stiffened wide-open
On the incessant heat-lightning flicker of situations.

Nightlong, in the granite yard, invisible cats
Have been howling like women, or damaged instruments.
Already he can feel daylight, his white disease,
Creeping up with her hatful of trivial repetitions.
The city is a map of cheerful twitters now,
And everywhere people, eyes mica-silver and blank,
Are riding to work in rows, as if recently brainwashed.

Metal music
I sound like such a dork saying it like that. I just love the passion metal musicians express.

Japanese
It is such a beautiful language with a beautiful script, and it's a shame I really feel I am no good at it at all.

Maybe I'll just end my mind jargon here.

Oh, one more.

The word "jargon"
:D

Merry Tuesday to you.

[untitled]

NO HARRY KEWELL NOOOOOOOO

little boy blue

You know, this blog is kind of like a series of little letters to myself. Like little tabs sticking out of my sad little life. These tabs don't actually have anything to do with much; but then, I have never been a good studier. Probably why I fail at math and science. No, I rely on my ability to bullshit my way to an A.
And yes. I am slow. No need to be mean about it. OH I have a good joke for you.

Knock knock!
Who's there?
Little boy blue.
(DON'T LOOK AHEAD. READ THE JOKE PROPERLY. TOO LATE?)
Little boy blue who?
Michael Jackson.

Very nice. Harummm.

So anyway, I finally have a new Topic Of The Day. Aren't you proud? It is FEMINISM.

Feminism is the belief in gender equality, not the suppression of men or the disregard for their worth in this world. We as females can be bitter and sexist all we like but all that does is make us seem like whiny self important bitches. No, we must be the bigger gender and rise above the years and years and years of female oppression that is still occurring, might I add.

A male friend of mine directed me to a Wikipedia page titled "Lesbian Sex Wars" after very seriously informing me that there were two camps of feminism; those who wanted equality and those who wanted to dominate the male species.

Um.

"Lesbian Sex Wars"????????? HELLO. Let's try to be slightly less chauvinistic please.

Right now, in the Democratic Republic of Congo, women are being raped and tortured and used as disposable wives. They are forced into marriages with rebel terrorists that shame them out of their families, communities and towns so that ultimately, even if they were able to flee the horrendous reality they now face, they would have nowhere else to go.

Support Amnesty International in its fight to stop violence against women right across the globe. Everyday, thousands of women and girls are abused, murdered, raped in armed conflict and attacked for defending women's rights, and Amnesty is working to see this changed. Also, check out the "'Super Agency' for women" article to be found on the Amnesty website.

I'd write more but I'm too tired and feminism is such a broad topic. Silly me to choose it as a Topic Of The Day.

'Don't compromise yourself. You are all you've got.'- Janis Joplin

i only matter because i'm more than a stranger

So lately, I've just been confused. About people, mainly, and their relationships with me. Okay, so there's this person. And I cannot believe I am about to talk about this. But there's this person. They think I'm all that. But it's just so not true. Basically, because of my ability to compliment them and make them feel special, I am also a special individual. This is utterly ridiculous and I'd love to just go all out and speak frankly but alas, this is the internet. This is not a place for frankness in any shape or form. The only reason I am able to do this (make them feel special) is because they hold me in high regard and so therefore my opinion seems like everything. As vain as that sounds.
What I have to say wouldn't matter in the slightest if we weren't as close as we are.

I posted this because the dog is cute.

I miss Christmas. I don't even know why, because it seems whenever it rolls around (which is the same time every year- now that's a freaky coincidence)I can't wait for it to be over. Mainly because it means spending time pretending to like the gazillion relatives I'm unfortunate enough to have. No, that's horrible. I like my grandfather.
I miss church too. Don't tell anyone; I'm supposed to be a hard core agnostic or something. I don't know, but I can't stand the idea of atheism, and I kind of get mad whenever anyone suggests I become part of it. It's just.... atheism, to me, basically represents intolerance. Besides which, we are only humans. Who are we to say that just because there's no evidence of any God none exist at all? PLUS we are only capable of using 10% of our brain's capacity. Maybe we just haven't looked hard enough for the evidence, or maybe we're just too dumb to notice it sitting right in front of us.
The priest of the church I used to go to claims evidence of God is all around us. Just look at nature- he taught us to see Earth's nature for the magical phenomenon that it is. I think the main thing I got from church was gratitude, and it actually feels like that virtue is slipping away from me every day I claim not to believe in God. But to say I do believe is also a lie. What is this? I'm stuck between beliefs and while it seems most people around me and my mind are pulling me towards atheism, the inner part of me pulls me to faith.

and i'm a lie away from saying what i really think

These are all thanks to weardrobe.com.

Seriously, go there. I've wasted so many precious hours of my life just gasping over strangers' outfits.

P.S. Hopefully I don't get sued for republishing these images. BUT NO ONE EVEN READS THIS BLOG. Except Emily sometimes.

Hi Emily<3

Chaosness

Acceptance.

Hmmm.

Care to embrace the world's light? Let us dance among the river folk; they know how to be grateful. Come along, open your mind to the beauty of the world.

Feral children run through my mind, howling like wolves to the sound of sunlight.

This is why mathematics will never make sense to me. Like the Oreo biscuit that never gets dunked, the last piece of pizza that never gets eaten [my GOD I am hungry], the spirit that never understands how to leave behind a life, the bicycle with the broken wheel that will never be ridden, the child that will never be truly appreciated, my mind will never accommodate for mathematical concepts.

I had my maths exam today, by the way. I also started doing biology homework, but as you can see, I got distracted.

People confuse me. (As does maths, did I mention that?) Why would anyone invite me to a party, knowing full well that I am an antisocial mouse of a person? Why does my post keep saving itself? Is it worried for its legacy like Macbeth? Don't worry post, I won't delete you. You shall be immortal in the cyberical world. But did the post know that the over population of people will kill us all? That is truly amazing- it could be my biology teacher.

Why yes, I did just write half a page of crap.

So anyway, today's topic is acceptance. I'll write it in bold so it's nice and easy for you to see.

I was watching Dr Phil- come now, don't judge- and the debate was about fat. The Fat Debate, to be exact. There was a doctor and a personal trainer from the Biggest Loser, as well as a person from the 'National Fat Acceptance Association', and some authors of books with titles that basically paint skinny people as villains and horizontally larger people as victims of a world of crazy dieting. So in summary, the debate was about the acceptance of obesity in society.

Personally, (and this is my blog, so it is only my opinion that matters- I don't quite understand why I'm trying to be so diplomatic) it disgusts me that people would accept the risking of health as the new norm. Yes, obesity is highly prevalent in countries such as America and Australia especially, but accepting this is just stupido sekali. It's like accepting AIDs as part of everyday life in Africa. The minute we stop fighting for improvement because we're just too tired is the day society goes downhill. To quote Martin Luther King Jnr., 'Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about the things that matter.'

I just cannot believe they have an organisation that openly supports obesity.

Excuse me while I weep for humanity a little.

Let me indulge in a change of topic. The Shark Net, written by Robert Drewe, is quite possibly the most event-less book in history. It is an autobiography focussed during the times of the Eric Cooke murders, when the whole of Perth was paralysed with fear; and despite the drama of emotions that were possibly circulating at the time setting of the book, Drewe manages to make the whole affair a dull 400 pages of blunt, unappealing, adjective less prose. BUT he does manage to present a few fascinating characters- himself included, I admit. But only because he is obsessed with the idea that he killed his mother. I love all that over analysed psychotic mind jargon- such as Sally Cooke, widow of Eric Cooke. There isn't much mention of her in the book, but there are 5 or so pages dedicated to her feelings about her role as Cooke's wife. It is stated that because she planted petunias when her daughter died, and she went window shopping when her sister died that she has the GIFT OF ACCEPTANCE. I wrote that in capital letters because it is what I seek most in life.

Enough! May the wind ever be at your back and the ground ever at your feet.

Happy days.