i think i might have inhaled you

well she’s walking through the clouds. with a circus mind that’s running wild.
butterflies and zebras and moonbeams and fairy tales,
that’s all she ever thinks about.
riding with the wind
- jimi hendrix

I leave poetry in library books

Sometimes I fear I have an undiagnosed mental illness. I guess a lot of people feel that way, right? Just because not everyone seeks out help doesn’t mean they don’t feel like that. I mean, am I technically sane because I decided I was, or because society didn’t place me in the “crazy” category? I’m not sure. One in five teenagers goes through depression according to research but where is that one in five at my school? Maybe they left already, because my school is so caught up in its reputation that there’s no time for suicidals. What makes a sane person? Where are the guidelines for this? I’d like to see a rule book, because quite frankly, neurotics such as myself find it hard to play along with society’s game when the rules are so vague.
I’m also vegan now. But no, that does not mean I enjoy lengthy discussions about the benefits of lima beans in one’s diet, despite what my mother thinks. Lima beans are good for iron (they contain 4.4 whole milligrams! Wahoo! P.S. “Wahoo” is a word; I originally typed “woohoo” and it came up with a red squiggly line, and “wahoo” was in the spelling suggestions…oh wait, never mind, I just googled “wahoo” and it’s a type of tropical fish), and as a girl who is yet to reach menopause I need 33 milligrams of iron a day. That’s a lot. Like a ton; probably why my vegetarian friend takes iron tablets as well. But props to my parents; they didn’t make me go see a doctor first who would most likely prescribe to me said tablets, like that one time I went to see a naturopath when I was 13 and she gave me these weird tablet things that tasted like grass and vegemite even though she said I was quite healthy. I admit I did lie to get her to say that, but only about how much water I drank…so maybe that doesn’t count so much? And she still gave me pills.
You know what’s great? That song, Dirty Little Secret by the All American Rejects. I hope I put capitals in the right places there. Especially the music video; it’s so awesome. The song is heartfelt and way too honest but I feel like I can relate to it; like that part about having gay sex at church camp. Yeah, that’s right. 3 times.
Okay, I’m totally lying but only because my parents never sent me to church camp. I think I would have liked to have gone, but then I also think I might have felt quite frustrated being in amongst people who took the Bible literally.
I really need to go study or do something as educational as possible. I have a practice exam tomorrow for Revolutions, and I’m kind of not freaking out, which is a terrible thing. I just hope that in the real exam I won’t behave like I did in my last SAC. I basically went into the room, sat down, looked at the front page and stopped breathing. I don’t think it was a panic attack, but I don’t know. Geesh, why don’t they teach these things in school? There’s nothing useful like politics or how to act when your parents are disappointed in you for not agreeing with their beliefs. I shall meditate and all shall be good.
Here’s a fun Revolutions picture.
Or not; I kind of suck techonologically. It was a picture of a red M&M being Lenin and it was really cool.
May you forever sparkle with gypsy magic.

I repeat: I am an anti social mouse like creature.

It's holidays, and I'm beginning to get bored already.
This isn't a boredom post, by the way- it's more of a I could either do this or I could switch my brain off and glare at a television screen (which is totally different).
Last night, I didn't sleep till 5am. I woke up 4 hours later all sleepy but all gross too, so guess what? I took a shower.
Genius.
I really resent holiday homework; it hangs above my head like Damocle's sword and I don't quite know what to do but tremble. That's surely a logical reaction, right? If I continue to put it off I'll never have to confront it, right? Oh dear. But anyway, I did go to two history lectures on the weekend, one of which lasted a century- or close to- and so I figure that I've already done a fair bit of studying.

My God I am a dull person.

I want to disappear. That'd be nice. To not have to face the world or anyone in it for a while. Am I dreaming? Am I insane? What is this which they call reality? Have I reached it? Do I understand? Why can I not connect to the "real world" like a normal person? Maybe the key is to get lost within one's self. Maybe I just need to recreate myself. I'm sick of being me. I guess being alone, like I've been for a couple of days now, makes people realise this? Or not. I don't know.
I'm not even reading the supposedly depressing book either- I haven't read anything because I can't concentrate. I just want to sleep.
I'm sorry I keep staring at the screen like some amazingly inspired idea will jump out at me. I'm sorry I don't know what I'm doing. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry but then I'm not sorry at all- I'm lying to myself and pretty much everyone I know in the hope that I'll suddenly transform into a good person; whatever that means. Oh dear. I should stop.

So let's talk about something worthwhile? 500 Days of Summer perhaps? Hm. Is this a good film? It's hard to tell. I guess it depends on what you're looking for. Joseph Gordon Levitt certainly brightens the film, as does Zooey Deschanel, but then what of their characters? It's not a film about love. Real love is boring and unwatchable, not: Summer: I love the Smiths. Tom: You like The Smiths? Summer: Yeah. "To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die". Love 'em. JGL never even finds anything out about the lovely Zooey- she's like a blank canvas for him to project his fantasies onto. Sure, there are scenes where they look deep in conversation (but the audience never hears said intimate conversations because some indie band is playing loudly over the top) and a whole street full of people burst into dance after Tom and Summer have sex (I know nothing turns me on more than a group of people from all walks of life making bizarre hand movements whilst bopping) and they look really cute in IKEA together playing husband and wife, but is that really all there is to this? I guess I should just be grateful that it doesn't star Jennifer Aniston or Reese Witherspoon. It's a pretty movie with pretty clothes and it's really adorable when JGL draws the skyline on Zooey's arm, so I'm just going to appreciate it for that and not look too deep into it.
Another thing is that 500 Days of Summer is full of all these alternative pop culture references which I realised I needed to find out about. At the moment, I'm downloading the film Sid and Nancy, which is based on Sid from the Sex Pistols, I think, and he kills his girlfriend. That's all I know, as that's all I got from the brief mention of it in 500 Days of Summer. It was made in 1986, so at least I know I'll enjoy it- as it features death, 80s fashion and the band that arguably gave birth to the genre of punk rock. So yay for me.
It's raining. All the blood and sin from the murders last night will be washed down the gutters, down the street, and the whole world will know of the unnatural acts that occured here- outside my very window. There are two types of evil people: those who do evil and those who see evil and do nothing to stop it. With regret I report I am of the latter kind.

let us suspect, cherie, this not very big
box completely mysterious, on whose shut
lid in large letters but neatly is
inscribed "Immortality". And not
go too near it, however people brag
of the wonderful things inside
which are altogether too good to miss -
but we'll go by, together, giving it a wide
berth. Silently. Making our feet
think. holding our breath-
if we look at it we will want to touch it.
And we mustn't because (something tells me)
ever so carefully if we
begin to handle it
out jumps Jack Death
- e. e. cummings

xxx

to be or not to be quixotic; that is the question

Life is awesome.

And I'm HAPPY and I'm HERE and I'm writing a BLOG POST.

YAY HAPPINESS HAPPY HAPPY HAPPINESSNESSS.

The story of Cletus, Rufus and Shakira.

Bored. Very Bored. With a capital B.
I have studying to do, but ah welllll.
I bought some purple hair dye the other day, except I think I'm going to be needing more. It's worry, how thick my hair is. The only reason my dad agreed to let me dye my hair (although he couldn't have stopped me- just putting that out there) was because I told him the packet said it would have a subtle result. It does say that- like if you have black hair. Mine is practically black, which is why I need another packet but it says that the dye WILL NOT LIGHTEN YOUR HAIR OR COVER GREY in very capital letters. Hmm, what a dilemma. I can't wait for the holidays so I can have awesome hair and then paint my nails blue and only ever wear my wannabe army boots (with other clothes).
I'm really craving Shakira right now at this very second. It just hit me as I was listening to 30 seconds to mars how much I actually love Shakira, because, you know, 30 seconds to mars and Shakira have practically the same sound. It's taking foreverr to download. Ah, youtube. And also, I'm using the neighbour's wifi. Shh. It's marvellous. I can download and youtube without feeling any guilt whatsoever.
I also like brownies. It's a shame they're so bad for you:(
It's amazing how an entire day passed and I didn't do any homework, or really anything productive at all...except I woke up freakishly early. It's like my dad's voice just creeps in everywhere- because it did, this morning at 8am and it was hissing at me to get up and quit being so lazy. Grr. Get back to your master, voice.
OH. Okay, so on Friday night I went to my old church because it was my brothers' Confirmations. By the way, their newly adopted saintly names are Rufus and Cletus. I have such tards for brothers. Or maybe they're just alternative? Because that's kind of cool. Yeah, let's go with that. Anyway, that's not the point of the story, except it was a bit funny when the Archbishop erm anointed Josef "Rufus", because me and Dad burst out laughing and Mum gave us the dirtiest look (which made me laugh harder and Dad shrink down in his pew). And then I was too distracted by the hilarity of this incident to notice the hilarity in Antonny's anointed name, which was a shame. I mocked him afterwards, don't worry.
[YAY SHAKIRA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHENEVER, WHEREVER, WE'RE MEANT TO BE TOGETHER, I'LL BE THERE AND YOU'LL BE NEAR AND THAT'S THE DEAL MY DEAR]
(Well, that was fun.)
Yeah, so...I was talking about church, I think. Yes, I just scrolled up and I was. So the Archbishop Denis Hart of Melbourne came and that was a massive deal, but then he had all this attitude. Like, he kept cueing everyone to stand and sit and then turning to glare at the parish priest as if to say "You didn't brainwash your churchgoers properly, now I have to do it myself, idiot," which I have to admit I found a tad funny and I think my mum even developed a bit of a crush for old Denis. But Denis gave a talk at the very beginning, basically outlining all the criteria he felt a Catholic should adhere to if they didn't want to go to hell. He actually mentioned the word hell, and pretty much said that if you want to go to heaven, you have to go to church every week because otherwise how can you even call yourself a believer of God? I agree though; obviously not about the going to hell bit, but that going to church is a fairly vital part of the whole being religious thing. I even used to go and sit by myself because my supposedly Catholic family couldn't be bothered. I made friends with the elderly couple that sat behind me and I kind of became their like church granddaughter. It was nice. They cared about me, or so I like to think. BUT ANYWAY Denis also said something I found rather interesting and *humphed* out loud at: (this is the essence, and no, I am not twisting words, or taking things out of context, this is exactly what he said, except he said something else mixed in which I've forgotten because it was useless to my train of thought) "The greatest success in life...is to be a successful Christian." Yeah, okay. What does that mean for women? That the greatest success in life is to undervalued at best, or oppressed at worst? Tsh.
I think I spend too much time thinking about religion.
It just fascinates me, that's all- like why people believe in God.
Check this out---> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2z-OLG0KyR4 (LOL)
I think that's enough. I've already forgotten everything I've written.
Buh bye Banana Man.

P.S. To be directed at my neighbours- thankyou for letting me waste your internet, but please hush hush occasionally. Some of us need to study/sleep/have a life without your constant gossipping in the background.

chickens go squawk when you slaughter them and soak them in hormones take 2

i think people who complain all the time can rot in hell.

it's not a harsh thing to say, it's really not. as st. paul says, don't complain about the dark, light a candle.

Above^ was written last year. I wasn't going to let anyone else see it but I quite like it. Even though it's bitchy. I'm sure people can handle it.
Today I was actually hoping to talk about the conflicts in the Middle East, and also maybe a bit about the impact a parent has on a child's life as well as PERHAPS depression.
Hopefully my post will be forgiven for its discontinuousness (almost a mathematical term! Beggsy would have been so proud).
Basically, what I have gathered so far about why there's so much war and death in the Middle East is because of stuff that may or may not have happened some 2000 years ago. It's all dependent on the Quoran and I'm pretty sure that's not how you spell it, but that's how you say it. According to Genesis (12:1-2), God appeared to Abraham and gave him a command: 'Go forth from you native land and from your father's house to the land that I will show you. I will make of you a great nation.'
Why God chose Abraham to be the patriarch of Israel is still unclear, but according to Jewish belief it is because he introduced monotheism (belief in one God). BUT. Abraham's wife Sarah could not conceive and this presented a majorly disastrous rock in Abraham's path to becoming the patriarch of a great nation. So Abraham had sex with Sarah's maid named Hagar, and Ishmael was born. Of course, Sarah was not happy about this. She was ninety years old and cranky that her husband had had a child with her maid, so she exiled poor Hagar and Ishmael into the desert. Today's Arabs believe they are descendants of Ishmael. One day, God might have been bored, because a miracle occurred- Sarah fell pregnant with a son to be called Isaac. Isaac has a son called Jacob. God intervenes and Jacob becomes known as Israel. Hence the country was born, and the Jewish people are subsequently referred to as the children of Israel.
The main issue that we should retrieve from these Bible stories is: who deserves the land promised to Abraham by God all those years ago? Is it Ishmael- the bastard but still the true first son of Abraham? Or is it Isaac- the second son born to Sarah in wedlock? Hmm. There's much to follow this initial story, but without going into too much detail, what I have learned is that the Jewish and the Arabs *traditionally* have had mutual hatred for each other.
However, the question I asked during PYP in year 6 still remains- is it right for other nations to involve themselves in this historical war? Honestly, I see no clear way forward. If we remove all non Middle Eastern troops, people will still die. We also need to examine the motives behind the intervention by other countries.
AH COMPLICATED.
In other news, Jesse is eating chicken flavoured drumstick biscuits. Yep, you heard me. A vegetarian is eating chicken flavoured junk.
Parents suck sometimes. I've been thinking that I might not have kids just because I don't want to be hated by midgets. Why must they probe so much though? Why? Please, just give me some space and I'll like you more. Parents are also wonderful people with a fondness for children. Generally.
As for the impact a parent has on a child's life, I think past the age of fifteen there is minimal impact, provided that the parent hasn't screwed the child up before that. Gosh. Sorry for being so blunt and awful. What I do enjoy about parents is how they can blamed for nearly anything, and I've even talked about this with mine. It's accepted that I may refer to them as over protective tyrants if need be, and they may refer to me as a helpless, rebellious teenager if they don't want to go to work or to a family party. YAY mutual obligation. How lovely.
Depression? Maybe I shouldn't go into this. It requires individual definition, in my opinion. Sure there's Official Symptons but it's not like much in terms of scientific diagnosis can be proved. How effective are the pills and shock treatments anyway? I'm reading "The Bell Jar" again. It's a beautiful book, despite the protagonist's many attempts at suicide. And in this book, she undergoes many psychiatric treatments and she never tells the reader she feels any better, so I conclude that the treatments don't work.
For me, it's the nothingness feeling- when even pain is preferable. Nothingness seems to last and last and it doesn't hurt so obviously your body can stand it for ages. It's where the loss of will to live comes in.
Shush, child. Attention back to homework now.