Hello blogspot.

I would like to go to sleep, but only so I can wake again soon. I have things to do and things to think and I would really like to be tired now so I can be less tired when my alarm goes off at in a few hours.

I wish I understood.

I unashamedly love the movie 'Remember Me'.
I miss my full fringe.
I don't understand love.
I eat more tofu than is healthy.
I like making up lives for strangers.
I exploit my slight claim to Indonesian heritage to seem interesting.
I read less than I think is vital for the soul.
I lack the ability to think logically; my sense isn't so common.
I often refuse people offering to drive me places.
I daydream at night.
I worry I can't do anything to help.
I don't care that I don't care about economics.
I spend too much time alone.
I have never been drunk.
I laze around suburban streets looking for a life I can enjoy.
I sometimes feel suffocated.
I tend to resent my middle class upbringing, which even I know is ridiculous.
I should be credited for how much over-analysing I do.
I pretend to enjoy things like art and fashion but really I just like pretty things.
I can become insecure around other people incredibly quickly.
I drink a lot of coffee.
I use a fair amount of dark eyeliner, as if to make myself more than I am.
I dislike hypocrisy.
I want to change the world, instead I sleep.
I probably won't be much different ten years from now on the inside.
I am terrified of being completely dependent on another human being.
I have purple hair ambition.
I know I should accept it just the way it is but I hate my body.
I think about myself far too often.

I Am That I Am.

these are some truths i think you shouldn't talk to me about later.

I almost went to bed
without remembering
the four white violets
I put in the button-hole
of your green sweater
and how I kissed you then
and you kissed me
shy as though I’d
never been your lover.

Leonard Cohen

I liked it when he smiled

Also, I would have liked this is if it were a group of facebook.



Is it not shamefully true? I'm awkward most all the time though, so I guess it doesn't make too much of a difference.

Sometimes I have to hold myself back

from saying things to people that I so want to say but can't for fear that I'll stuff up the relationship because I'll freak them out with how much I rely on them to keep me, well, me. I feel like I should just dive in and be completely open and honest, because I'm not talking along the lines of if you can't be nice, don't say anything at all thread, no, no, I just want people to know how much they mean to me. It's strange to think what kind of person I'd be if I hadn't become friends with the people I have, or even who I'd be if the relationships hadn't developed the ways they have.
You know, apparently (according tumblr), scientists have proven that humans' brains are linked to each other through neuron activities, so there's a chance that if you spend all day thinking of someone, they may just be thinking of you too.. It's a nice thought, yes? I have to stop abusing the word 'nice'.
I think I'm grateful. Yes. That is a good word- I'm grateful to a whole heap of people and yet, I'm still a terrible friend to pretty much everyone I know; except for maybe my brother because I am so gosh darn kind to him, although tonight he did offer to share his blanket with me, so we're almostnotreally even.

I want to fall in love, damnit. I want to want someone so much that they become my enoughness.

I want to be wanted.




Unfortunately, I'm not so hopelessly romantic that that sweet picture will satisfy me. Oh well. You know what they say- it'll all be fine in the end and if it's not fine, it's not the end. But does the end mean death? What?!

Ricky Gervais: “Why I’m an Atheist”

“As an atheist, I see nothing “wrong” in believing in a god. I don’t think there is a god, but belief in him does no harm. If it helps you in any way, then that’s fine with me. It’s when belief starts infringing on other people’s rights when it worries me. I would never deny your right to believe in a god. I would just rather you didn’t kill people who believe in a different god, say. Or stone someone to death because your rulebook says their sexuality is immoral. It’s strange that anyone who believes that an all-powerful all-knowing, omniscient power responsible for everything that happens, would also want to judge and punish people for what they are.”

Amen.

Here is my Thought Of The Day:

I really need to put more time into posting and/or, thinking about stuff.
I have a lot of more pictures that can represent my Thoughts Of The Moment but I don't know if blogspot's really the place.
You know, if people stopped being sexist/misogynist/chauvanistic/a-female-who-is-against-male-rights-altogether-ist/speciest/racist/fascist/anything kind of -ist, life might just be sweet. To quote Ferris Bueller, who is my Confucius, "Isms in my opinion are not good. A person should not believe in an ism, he should believe in himself." And I think I just completely undermined my point there with him using the male pronoun there.
I have to pretty much restrain myself from pretending not to care and just being all like 'It's all good, bro'.
My friend, a capitalist with glasses and carnivore tendencies, just told his girlfriend he loved her. And she said it back. Isn't that adorable? I'm so glad young love exists even for someone so seemingly practical as he:)
Enough. I'm sleepy and feeling kind of bitchy.

Hay there robot.

I sometimes want to do this. Just to see what happens. And to see if there's anything I can pick out so that maybe any blackness will just go away.
I'm so scared I'm wasting my life sometimes. I waste my life being unhappy, so I cook a cake that everyone else in my family adores but, in my eyes, becomes the Cake of Too Chocolatey A Taste. Because you know, being vegan means you have "refined tastes" and are thus incapable of eating anything of richer substance than tofu. I appreciate tofu.
I went to a park today. It was empty and cold and so I left but that feeling just followed me and it's now sitting on my bookshelf. It's funny, waving at me. I suppose we are old friends.
Tomorrow I will be productive, I say. Tomorrow I will start on my homework. Tomorrow I will eat healthily and drink enough water. Tomorrow I will realise what's missing from my life and go hunt it down wherever it has been hiding from me.
I was going to do a whole hair post on how to dye your hair etc. etc. but I figure no one really cares. I don't care either as the hair dresser will be the one playing with the chemicals, not me. Isn't this an insanely lovely colour?



And this:



Perhaps this:



These are all stolen from the internet. It's a shame I can't claim to know the girls in the pictures.
I need to consume less caffiene. It makes me feel jittery and question whether life is absurd or not too much.
It's 12.25am. I wonder what the moon is up to.
Why does the internet never sleep?

you got them black circles round your eyes

you're moving in dark circles
dark circles show me your eyes
it's black magic with no perfume
you're all tv & white lies

move move move move
no rainbow all snow storm A trans lunar jezebel
your Stockhausen with pictures
ulysses in ugly shoes
move move move move

dark circles
black magic
dark circles
and white lie
black magic

dark circles
black magic
and white lies
dark circles
black magic

dark circles
no perfume
black magic
dark circles
black magic
and white lies

- Duran Duran, Dark Circles

in your head they're fighting

I gave into consumerism today, and now I feel somewhat dead inside. I own a new pair of shiny black pointy flats that I’ve wanted to own for who knows how long (I actually do know, ever since year 9 when Amy strolled down the Butt Building corridor wearing them- she used to have such awesome style, and now she’s just another indie stoner) and I don’t even feel slightly uplifted. I think of how they could improve my wardrobe, and no. Just no. It just feels like more money flushed down the drain in the name of the filthy money mongering system and I am now hollow to the will of capitalism. FUCK I can’t believe I’m even talking about this. And I just swore. Ha HA. So evil and vulgar I am. Yet another deluded teenage delinquent who’s convinced they’ll conquer the world.

They’re size nine. And they’re a tad tight. But the ten was too big. I’m so confused. It’s like my ambiguity of shoe size is a METAPHOR for my inability to commit to anything or anyone. Stupid feet. How dare you be weirdly sized. I have a theory that I’m afraid. (I don’t think you can have theories about yourself, can you? But I have plenty!) Because it’s like the second someone shows an interest in me, in me alone, I get scared and insecure and feel cornered and my throat starts closing in on itself.

You know, I might have trust issues too.

Shopping centres are such horrible places. The people there walk around like robots, unblinking, lust, consume, waste. There’s no air, no spirit, no dust, no magic- everything looks the same and I can’t enjoy fashion in the way I generally consider it to be an art form. There’s no drama; no, I don’t really like you, apologetically dressed but I have to admit, on the other hand, I like what I wore today. I’d tell you, but it won’t sound cool, it’ll just be words on a page but I did wear my army boots today. I’ve decided to try an experiment; a challenge, if you can call something so trivial that, and that is to wear my boots every day for the next two weeks. Yay. How super pumped are you for me?! I’ll become just like one of those supposedly tough kids with anarchy tendencies who pretend they’re not conforming. Is anyone ever not pretending?



I want freedom.

DAH CUTENESS

I'll just add that to my collection of giraffe photos. (Why would anyone care?! Sorry. But this is my blog! DON'T READ IT IF I BORE YOU.)

One more day till slightly greater freedom.

Let be, let be, let be.

Much love,
From Me.

I've never felt like enough.

It stresses me out when there aren't enough people with lives I can stalk.

I have found that there is actually no greater pleasure in life for me, at this very moment in my life, than pounding the pavements at night time. I know I kind of waffled on about this in the last post... but really, I love walking alone in the early hours of the morning or the later hours of the evening, probably more than is sane or, you know, safe. I love how different the world looks at night; how trees become hives of activity and how the roads become empty and how electricity poles become pillars of irrational security.
The Earth just changes, and it's as if I'm the only person left, as sickeningly cliched as that is, but I welcome the solitude and the silence and it's weird how you can feel so alone but so a part of something wonderful at the same time, but then I have to question just how wonderful humanity really is...
I was required to attend a speech night tonight, held by the Invergowrie Foundation or something whose primary focus is the education of girls in Australia, and Tania de Jong spoke about the importance of not silencing your voice, no matter what life throws at you, and I have to admit, I did sit there bored and almost overwhelmed by her cheesy albeit well meaning speech until the end, when she showed us this video in which some recipients from her entrepreneurial charity, which is a choir made up of people from all walks of life, were interviewed. I hate to get all soft and emotional but what really struck me about the video was, really, the triump of human spirit that can be, that is seen from people all over the world in the most dire of circumstances and what really pains me is that so many people suffer at the hands of other people. Again, I'm going all cliched-emo-sentimental but though there are too many things about the human race that I dislike to go into, what I consider to be the most redeeming qualities of us will always remain constant, down through the ages- compassion and courage.
To completely change the topic... not really a fan of people who sound like badly worded thesauruses. Just speak properly. Please. It hurts my ears and my eyes to hear and see vomit that is pretentious for the sake of being pretentious and that doesn't even make sense.
Pyjamas are comfy.
I feel like I should be doing homework, but I literally have nothing to do. I even finished my Economics, but I should probably do it again considering I attempted it at 3 in the morning....
And so nothing to do! I hate losing people. I hate when it feels like I can't stop it either.

Why do posts always end up trailing off like this? I guess, in true nerual style, I just got bored:D

I like the air best when it's crisp and smells of fire.

Just like I like the road best when I can stomp my boots right down the middle of it to the sounds of Lykke Li, and how the sky is at my favouritest when it's dark with clouds that have positioned themselves arbitrarily.

You Know You're Tired When....

- You fall asleep while blow drying your hair.
- Coffee (the joy of life!) makes you think, Oh no, I can’t take any more
- Bananas become a confusing concept for you
- You yell at your brother in a foreign language
- Your head is constantly in pain
- Showers in the black of morning are spent mourning the death of oh so sweet night time
- Floors and tables are indistinguishable from beds in your eyes
- You laugh hysterically at your dad’s jokes and then
- You grumble at your dad to ‘Stop Being So Loud. Dammit.’
- You find your adorable dog annoying
- You stop caring
- You feel engulfed by life and VCE and crazy shiz that’s going down errrrywhere

I’m sorry if I’m ever incredibly rude! It’s mainly because I want to pass out.

However, we must keep going! It's almost holidayyys, oh the summer dayz. That aren't so summery any more, but hey, there'll be sunshine of some kind, I'm sure, and that thought alone is sustaining me. You know how you get near the end of something and you feel like you've done so much and you just can't be bothered to finish off the last morsel of activity...that may just be me, and my non committal attitude to everything, but No! Not this year. I refuse. I will COMMIT.

Here is a tip. My dad is big on tips, especially ones from extremely old dead guys who wrote poetry.



I like this take on the original quote. I wrote this on the inside of my wardrobe, so it's the first thing I see whenever I reach for clothes. It's a wonderful message, even with the obscenity of language.

LOVE.

Who are you?

Take away your family, your friends, your life as you know it, and what's left of you?
"Is this a trick question? I'm dead, right?"
How much do other people make up our identity? Is it so much that we're not able to be ourselves without them? Does this only happen because we let them, or does nature just roll us into this pattern of needing the people we know to the point that without them we feel like we're missing part of us?
I hate disconnecting with others. But at the same time, I think silence is a huge chunk of what I am too.

I win at life, finally.

I finally figured out an awesome New Years resolution that will definitely, absolutely, positively change my life and that is both simple and straight to the point!!!!! None of that wishy washy I'll be healthy and compassionate and not hurt trees and study consistently with consistent effort of the most consistent manner stuff. I know it's March, but seriously, better late than never!
My resolution iiiiiiiiiiiiiiis that:
I WILL RETURN ALL MY LIBRARY BOOKS ON TIME! This encouraes me to actually read the books, I hope, or at the very least, prevents me from having to squander my hard earned money on fines! Hooray! Yay. You don't have to care:D
Happy Monday, for tomorrow.
On a totally unrelated note:

A typical conversation with a customer at 7 in the morning.

Customer: *yawns*
Me: Hello! How's it going? (this is where my chirpiness ends)
Customer: Fine...2 croissants thanks.
Me: mumble mumble? Mumble!
(I can never really talk until I've been up for a while and have coughed sufficient amounts.)
Me: Mumble mumble please.
Customer: *hands over note of some ridiculously large amount*
Me: Thank youu. Here's mumble mumble mumble.

I should probably work on the mumbling.

On another note, indecisive customers are the bane of my existence- especially those that demand their money back after touching all the bread I've carefully packaged for them because they decide it's too "crunchy".
HOW ELSE DO YOU EXPECT FRESH BREAD TO BE?!

And another thing, people are so strange. Example #32758: Every single middle aged woman who comes into the bakery on a Saturday morning walks in with a full face of makeup but then decides to wear a tracksuit with it. It's like they put so much effort into their faces (and I applaud them, because most of them seem to know how to make themselves look very nicely made up) that when they got to the rest of their bodies, they just decided to give up. Why on earth do people do this wearing of yucky clothes in public?
I suppose it doesn't matter. And I'm probably somehow being all anti feminist and completely materialistic here by complaining about this, but I don't care! Don't tell me things like this aren't important! What if you ran into Prince William? Oscar Wilde? JESUS?
Anyway, I'm sorry. But jeans. You can wear jeans and I won't complain at all. You can even wear the tracksuit jumper with the jeans.

Another thing is I'm thinking about quitting my job and applying at the cafe just up the road. Or do those things but in reverse order. Change is scary though- the bakery's all I've ever known.



FORWARD MARCH!

I've adopted a green grasshopper.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jnvgq8STMGM
Ophelia has a sassy gay friend, and he thinks: "There is something rotten in the state of Denmark. AND IT'S HIS PISS POOR ATTITUDE."
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SCVc5TaPpe8
Schwarzenegger is HAMLET- "Hamlet is taking out the trash" ohhh yeah. "To be, or not to be...Not to be." *explosions*

I've been thinking about maybe studying overseas after graduation (that is, if I make it that far), even for only a semester or two. Melbourne and its universities are incredible, and I love the city itself, but how wonderfully rejuvenating an experience it would be to just leave and stay left. I was thinking maybe England (AH England, that would just be absolutely amazing) or I think I heard of this international university in Holland when I was in Indonesia. Its primary language is English, but people of all nationalities attend and it'd surely be like one big party of multiculturalism and a blur of almost nonsensical communication through vast seas of language. I'll have to do more research into it.

I get to leave early tomorrow! Hooray! Except I won't be doing anything with my life, except maybe watching the VCE Theater Studies Class at St Kevins perform Animal Farm. I'd like to think my mother wasn't instilling false hope in me when she told me that's how I'd be spending my Friday evening.

Oh, and a few nights ago a grasshopper hopped its way into my room, and even though I've left the window open ever since, it still hasn't left. I guess that makes us friends? I'm naming it Gregory, as in Rasputin, of course!

Most of the time, I have no idea what day it actually is until someone tells me.

And it sucks that tomorrow is apparently Wednesday. I have this theory that I use to justify my absolute failure in the areas of science and maths and that is that I read things differently to other people and so my interpretation is generally completely off in subjects in which only one answer can be right. In subjects where you can go off topic and flourish along tangents this isn't perhaps a bad thing, but ah dear. Yes, I am full of crap.
We had parent teacher interviews today. I remember from A Cinderella Story (yes, the one when Hilary Duff was still kind of relevant to our generation, and Chad Michael Murray actually wasn't half bad looking. Oh shush, no judgements) one of the step sisters complained that her teachers would wonder to themselves why she sounded smart on paper, and not smart...not on paper, and I think that my situation isn't so different, except for the fact that while she got Cinderella to do hers, I get my little gnome friends I keep chained up in the attic to do mine. Sometimes the stuff that comes out of my mouth is so stupid and bimbo-y it's ridiculous. I thought that by the time I was 17 (ancient!) I would at the very least, sound intelligent and be able to casually throw sarcastic comments around like no monkey's business.
Is that even a saying?
Oops, I did it again. I played with your heart, got lost in the game. Oh baby baby oops you think I'm in looooove, that I'm sent from aboooove. I'm not. That. Innocent.
Britney. Oh Britney. Why did you have to go crazy just when I fell in love with your sparkly goodness?
So, again, there is no point to this post and I'm quite sorry, but not enough to actually apologise. Ahaha, how UNUSUAL of me. Goodness, I suck at life and I blame this entirely on the lack of projectness in my life. I keep going on about this but I'm too Hamlety to act! Ah, the perils of being a man of reason in an age of honour, where time is out of joint as we ponder the crisis of intellectual scepticism versus belief in the divine- inescapable mortality! Sympathy with death! No, I beg you sir, my favour lies in abundant life. A zest for life, if you will.
But, to what extent is an individual free? How far do we bend to society's unspoken conduct; over our own desires, our own primal instincts, our dionysian complex? Aduh. I can generally tolerate people of all kinds. (When I say tolerate, I mean hold back bitchy remarks or even facial expressions that may indicate anything other than a state of perfect pleasantness) But the one thing I've found that annoys the freaking hell out of my "lovely, polite" (Mr Williams quote) demure is anyone who plays the victim. There's certainly irony in this too, though, because I find myself frequently acting as the victim, I think. I try not to complain too much or appear too heavily burdened with the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune but maybe I do, and if so, I sincerely apologise to all those in a 10km radius of me right this second. But basically, I'm just over feeling like the bad guy when really, it's not even my fault. Danke to the person who pointed that out so explicitly.
Whew. Essej lit vomit over with.
You know what's hilarious? Mrs Probst smiling at you because you did good. HILARIOUSLY TERRIFYING.
Do you like the elephant picture? I like it. I think it is nice.

Why is it that every time I'm with you now

I don't feel joy, but a sense of guilt?

It's a purple and yellow day.

I'm really not a fan of leather shorts. Like, really? Not even fake leather ones. Aren't they disgusting? Aren't they something that belong in the past? Don't go dragging tacky trends like that out again.
I mean, seriously?
I'd like new shoes. Fun shoes. Shoes that will make me feel purposeful. Maybe high heels of some description. Or, what do you call those ones? Those pointy flat ones that everyone 'indie' seems to be wearing...brogues. Yes. Black shiny brogues are what I crave. Nice shoes are purty.
I need something to do. Something fun. Let's do something fun. Anyone? Fun? Please? Some alcohol perhaps?
I think my life would be complete if I could hug someone of the opposite gender right now. I'm not sure why it's gender specific. But it is, okay? I'm sorry.
Running. I'm going running tomorrow. I will.

I'M SORRY I'M NOT CALLED EMILY AND I CAN'T MAKE YOU HAPPY.

I ruined everything. Again. How am I so socially inept? How is it possible that I could be so absolutely horrible and walk- no, not walk- stomp all over another person's feelings they so trustingly laid at my feet? I feel. Confused. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry and I hate that your mood suddenly turned sour because of me- this wasn't supposed to happen.
I don't understand. But it's not fair to claim confusion, to blame that because I am the one to blame and I'm so incredibly sorry.
I hope you're okay. My conscience is rather painful.

Daily Bag limit: 8 ducks with the following conditions

•A maximum of one Australasian Shoveler per day
•No more than five ducks per day from declared game species, balance of bag limit must be wood ducks
•Wood ducks are only restricted by the bag limit of 8 ducks per day (i.e. a bag of 8 wood ducks is allowed).


The SSAA (Vic) has worked consistently to distribute accurate scientific data about duck hunting in Australia. The truth about duck hunting is that it is a legitimate and sustainable activity. The government has acknowledged this fact and to its credit ignored the emotional and corrupt arguments of the anti duck hunting advocates. The SSAA (Vic) thanks the Brumby Government for its well informed and balanced approach to this issue.

Don't worry guys, the SSAA have got it all under control.

Every year, four state governments declare 'open season' for recreational duck hunting, and unfortunately, the state I call home is one of them. During these seasons, thousands of ducks are shot down over the wetlands in the name of 'fun'. Of 'recreation'. In fact, the SSAA endorse this activity by depciting a boy no older than twelve holding a gun, smiling amiably at the camera.

Some ducks will be killed as the bullet pierces their tiny bodies. Others will become wounded or crippled and suffer in prolonged pain. This is despicable, and even those not of 'emotional and corrupt' orientation would surely agree.

Duck hunting season begins this Saturday.

Visit rspca.org.au for more information.

If you need some love, get a hooker.

I saw this title quoted on weardrobe.com today, and it just struck me as being rather poetic. Please don't be rolling your eyes at me. But you know, I've noticed that I get lonely really easily, which seems almost to be contradictory, considering how withdrawn I generally am even around close friends. Today is one such day, and I have no clue why. Perhaps it only just struck me how lifeless my life actually is, and in one huge chunk my mood slid downwards.
I look at my mother; I look at my grandmother, and they've always been strong feminist role models in my life. They're both incredibly self reliable and independent, but from them I've learnt, in a way, that to need other people is a flaw, and I don't know, is this a realistic interpretation of life? I mean, humans are social creatures. We need company. Science tells us so.
I've decided that there are two types of people, both of which can manifest within anyone at any time, and they are; Macbeths and Hamlets. I probably could have chosen a better character to represent the Macbeth side of us, but basically there are those who act and regret, and those who contemplate and regret. I'm not sure what this has to do with anything; I was just walking home yesterday and I thought of it. Because I was thinking about relationships, mainly my lack of experience, but honestly, who knows what they're doing anyway, regardless of experience? I think a relationship needs both a Macbeth and a Hamlet.
If I had to choose, I'd be Macbeth, but I know I'm a Hamlet, which sucks, but it kind of fits...the whole emo adolescent hiding behind a mask thing.
Today I just feel bleugh and I have fantastic friends but I can't help worrying because things seem to be changing. My mind is horrible and I have to keep asking myself "Why so bitchy for?", because it's really unlike me, or so I like to think.
I have this theory that if I immerse myself in creativity these feelings will disappear, but I'm lacking inspiration or even motivation to begin...erm immersing myself.
Grey day.

Dedicated To All You Nuts Out There.

Peanut butter will always reign supreme.

O+

I was going to try and write something deeply profound, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.

For one thing, I’m completely and utterly sick of how my ‘l’ key doesn’t seem to want to cooperate, and also trying to find deeper meaning in things and then having to express that in a level of language complexity that is, most likely, beyond my capabilities gets old quickly. Sorry to those who love Lit.

For another thing, even if I did manage to spiel out something profound in nature, I don’t think I, myself, would even want to read a pretentious philosophical web anyway.

I hope you don’t mind though; I felt it necessary to discuss Lent, a concept of the Catholic Church. Today, I hope the Pope invited all his Vatican City friends over to the Sistine Chapel to both revel in the beautiful aesthetics of the place as well as share a meal of pancakes, and pancakes alone. Maybe with maple syrup too, or the Italian version anyway. Do they have crepes in Italy? Hm. Pancakes. Yes.

So the story goes, once upon a time, Jesus ventured out into the desert for 40 days and ate nothing but [insert desert plant here]- maybe cacti of some variety. He essentially fasted for those 40 days, and so, because Jesus is awesome and all those that still adhere to the feudalistic system of the Catholic Church strive to be like him in every way (in theory, at least), to this day are also *encouraged* to, at the very least, give up something of significance to them. It’s generally to do with diet, like children will give up lollies or chocolate, and adults might give up meat or alcohol, but it can also be something like committing to spending more time with your family, or giving up swearing etc. etc. All terribly sappy, but it’s a nice idea.

Shrove Tuesday is celebrated because back in the days after Jesus, people used to use up all their milk and flour in order to prepare for the almost-fasting period. Maybe this is how pancakes came to be, and so I think my saying Jesus is awesome up there^ somewhere is totally justified, because pancakes are just delicious.

Anyway, even though I refuse to believe in the Catholic version of God, I don’t think Lent is an altogether irrelevant concept. It’s a time for reflection, for self improvement, and an introduction (however temporary) of discipline- which in my eyes leads to a sense of self control- into our lives, which I think is wonderful. That is, of course, not to say that this can’t and shouldn’t happen at any other time of the year, but I like how giving up something important to us in order to become richer as people is openly and loudly endorsed through Lent.

I also gave blood today! I bet you didn’t know that, unless Lulu told you. Apparently my vein was “too eager” to donate and so when they stuck the needle in blood spurted everywhere. I looked over my shoulder as I was leaving, after having given 470ml of blood, to see a man with a bucket of antisepticy bubbly water scrubbing at the chair I had just sat in. I don’t have HIV, though, so hopefully there’s nothing to worry about!

A horse walks into a bar. The bar man says, "Why the long face?"

So, anger's a weird emotion. I'd like to say it drives people to do insane things, but then when you look at most of the horrible things in the world, they're generally the result of the pursuit of lust. Maybe. I'm not sure. I'm also not sure what anger even is, mainly because most of my life has been rather devoid of said emotion; I've always been able to brush off supposedly mean jabs in my direction (ahem, Beaconsfield College guy) and get over even the slightest tiff with a quick perspective check. Because that's how I just work- anger in itself has always seemed a completely counter productive emotion, but then I guess most emotions are? Selalu messy. I'm so confused. I can always talk myself round; always persuade myself that there's a deeper, more pressing issue behind anything that could possibly push another person to lash out in some (to use the word yet again- Where's a thesaurus when you need one?) anger inducing way, and I don't get offended in the way I know some people do.
I was hanging out with this awesome person today, and he told me, as many people have, that he couldn't imagine me ever being angry. Ever? You people clearly don't think I'm capable of being human. But generally, I guess the only person I ever get mad at is myself; for not being hard working enough, for not having enough self discipline, for not knowing how to act most of the time, for being perpetually confused, for not caring enough to do my hair nicely, for not being grateful enough, for not being a great friend, for being silent, for just hoping that blundering through life will somehow lead me to wherever I'll be happy, and who knows where and when that'll be? It's always my fault. Always. Always?
Q: But just because I'm able to push away any feelings of hurt or anger, does that mean I have to? Why am I not allowed to wallow in the depths of my inner emo psyche, utterly convinced that I am of no worth as a person?
A:Because I don't matter at all. And it's my duty not to matter; to be sweet, nice, inoffensive and generally at peace because that's how my father's daughter was raised; that's the image I've projected of myself to the world and so why change?
I don't want to be angry.
But I am.
Let me have time, and I will get over it. Because it's my fault.

PENIS

Life as we know it is not a peach,
It is neither an apple, nor a cup of tea.
Words rush by as birds fly too fast for mere humans;
clocks strangle the obese from the thin
and we all simply smile,
ignorantly
content. Yelling will not liberate you here.
There is a time for peace and a time for war but hush,
Father is unhearing our sorrows. Blood flows freely so
strive not for golden stars-
hoard your coins now for ugly curtains once you've outgrown Peter and
let him instead flicker by the light of the lamp.
Let the darkness creep in
embrace it nakedly
dance in it
pain.
As ducks potter tenderly around our feet we muse
What are their lives worth?
But if everything and nothing and something mingled and the world spun
Perhaps then we'd be dazed; let us awake.
Let us awake.

So there's this guy. He's pretty amazing and I'm so confused and worried because I think I like him too much.
Ta-da! Remaja gadis crap over with! Maybe. Maybe not. I'm also confused about why I'm so happy. Why?
Why, Lord, why? Don't scare me like this. That saying about how smiling scares other people, I think it's somewhat relevant here. Except the only time smiling scares me is when it's on my own face. It does make for efficient time use though. I don't know. Should I be worried?
Hmm. I made a vegan cake today. It's a marble cake and it's 6 different vibrant colours. It looks oh so pretty on my kitchen bench top. AND I HAS FLOWERS IN MY ROOM NOW THANKS TO THE LOVELY NICK! Lilies! They're the flower of death, apparently, but they're so nice! And as some people argue, the theme of death is quite ah suitable in my room. Because I'm emo like that.
I'm going to learn to play guitar. And I'm going to get two bins to put in my room and decorate them according to their use- one for recycling and one for just plain old rubbish. And then I'm going to put up one giant Indonesian word on my ceiling which will say SEMANGAT which means, literally, spirit, and every time I see it I'll be reminded of Indonesia and Indonesian people and how I really need to get 98.4 to be happy at the end of this year.
TO CERTAIN PEOPLE. I want to tell you to be happy, but I know it's not that easy and I'm just going to sound like a hypocrite because I hate when people say that to me when I'm down. But seriously.

P.S. I'm too much of a coward to take credit for the title, so just blame it on Jeremy. And sorry for using your actual name here, Jeremy.

:D

ponder.

I say: 'I see'

I mean:

'I don't really understand but I'm attempting to appear to consider whatever it is you are telling me if only you continue talking, which I hope you do.'

'I'm waiting for more information.'

'What am I supposed to say to that?!'

At times, I might actually see. But don't hold your breath.

aku mau memelukmu

Post ini akan dalam bahasa Indonesia karena gw keren seperti itu. Tapi jangan coba terjemahkan ini, karena mungkin akan aneh kepada yang bicara hanya bahasa Inggris.
Aha! Permasalahnya minggu!
1. Gak ada HP, jadi, gak bisa ngobrol sama orang tertentu...dan kangen sekali. Dia selalu gembira dan bisa menyelesaikan kalimatgw...dan kalimat ini tidak bagus. ADUH bahasa Indonesia gw kurang pandai dan akan gagal di hidup.
2. Sudah memutuskan bahwa bagu formal kurang cocok.
3. Tidak terlalu senang membahas politik.

Thinking in Indonesian is too hard. I'm supposed to be good at it, too. And really, don't bother translating it because Google translate is rather off with its translations.
I'm moving house tomorrow. Back to good old safe, old people housing, cardigan wearing snob filled, lovely oak tree paved Balwyn, and I'm almost sad, but then I remember how much closer I'll be living to most things that make up my life. Those things being school, work and my friends... how incredibly ordinary I am.
I really miss Indonesia too, and everyone there.
My mind is incredibly blank right now.
I get into these moods, where I'm reminded of what a loner I am... where I don't want to talk to anyone, and as a result I'm not able to maintain any form of conversation whatsoever and this is just horrible. I don't know what's wrong with me!
My knees are also awful. They deserve to never see the sun.

and here is the deepest secret that nobody knows

Plethora is a good word. It means this:



Geddit?! A bun dance. Abundance!
I have nothing to talk about these days. Apologies.

He carves you a new smiling face.

I received this in a forwarded junk email, but I thought it was strange and somewhat beautiful.

That is, the bit AFTER the pumpkin joke/fable/thing. That was just strange. Because I am not a pumpkin, even though I used to be.

From one pumpkin to another!!!!!!!
A woman was asked by a coworker,
'What is it like to be a Christian?'
The coworker replied, 'It is like being a pumpkin.'
God picks you from the patch, brings you in,
and washes all the dirt off of you.
Then He cuts off the top and scoops out all the yucky stuff.
He removes the seeds of doubt, hate, and greed.
Then He carves you a new smiling face and
puts His light inside of you to shine for all the world to see.'
This was passed on to me by another pumpkin.
Now it's your turn to pass it to other pumpkins.
I liked this enough to send it to all the pumpkins in my patch.

empire of the universe, almost as large and powerful as this of is over snow, and it seemed as though the snow flurries and the

except ourselves and diseases and with such an infinite geniality the terror of that vault. How sweet it was to see the clouds

Although I have to admit I don't quite understand what it means now that I've read it properly, but I'll just say it's because there's words missing. Is there? I can't tell nowadays, with such obscurely indie poetry out there. It does sound a little threatening though. Is it God trying his best to communicate that I must forward this on to other pumpkins or else something awful will happen?

Harumm. I feel like I'm diagonally parked in a parallel universe.

Ahah.

Stolen from a friend.

The Thin People

They are always with us, the thin people
Meager of dimension as the gray people

On a movie-screen. They
Are unreal, we say:

It was only in a movie, it was only
In a war making evil headlines when we

Were small that they famished and
Grew so lean and would not round

Out their stalky limbs again though peace
Plumped the bellies of the mice

Under the meanest table.
It was during the long hunger-battle

They found their talent to persevere
In thinness, to come, later,

Into our bad dreams, their menace
Not guns, not abuses,

But a thin silence.
Wrapped in flea ridden donkey skins,

Empty of complaint, forever
Drinking vinegar from tin cups: they wore

The insufferable nimbus of the lot-drawn
Scapegoat. But so thin,

So weedy a race could not remain in dreams,
Could not remain outlandish victims

In the contracted country of the head
Any more than the old woman in her mud hut could

Keep from cutting fat meat
Out of the side of the generous moon when it

Set foot nightly in her yard
Until her knife had pared

The moon to a rind of little light.
Now the thin people do not obliterate

Themselves as the dawn
Grayness blues, reddens, and the outline

Of the world comes clear and fills with color.
They persist in the sunlit room: the wall paper

Frieze of cabbage-roses and cornflowers pales
Under their thin-lipped smiles,

Their withering kingship.
How they prop each other up!

We own no wildernesses rich and deep enough
For stronghold against their stiff

Battalions. See, how the tree boles flatten
And lose their good browns

If the thin people simply stand in the forest,
Making the world go thin as a wasp's nest

And grayer; not even moving their bones.

Forever

is a long time to promise something you don't have.

TERUS!!!

I'm only tired.

it's all make believe, isn't it?

I wonder if it's possible to fall for someone via tumblr.
I'm actually considering abandoning blogger for tumblr- and no, not so he can see what I write. It seems easier and more fun to use, because a tumblr doesn't automatically mean it will be filled with words that, really, mean nothing at all.
This particular guy is whimsical, and romantic, and propelled by a faith that there is a deeper meaning to life, and his words, although simple, spark magic on my computer screen. It doesn't hurt that he's also easy on the eyes in real life either- I knew him once. Or I knew of him? We shared a space in time once but neither took that leap to know the other. He's a friend of a friend, and our mutual friend asked me to get his attention; he'd apparently been moping for a couple of months, after he'd broken up with his girlfriend who was apparently (I use the word 'apparently' far too often) too cool for him. I think our friend's definitions of both 'moping' and 'cool' could use some updating. But this never eventuated because anyone who knows me knows I'm too shy to actually maintain a conversation with a guy, or a girl, or even a teacher, with whom I've not been previously familiar.
He writes about language, and the way he interacts with others, and little things he notices- like the moment during a summer's day when the cool wind stops for a bit and there's just sunshine and warmth- and quirky pictures. I appreciate it immensely, and don't think I could ever be good enough for anyone so wonderful. But then I think, I'm falling for his words alone. He declares that he's quiet, not shy, and while I find this extremely attractive, I don't think that could work if both parties are like that.
SIGH. C'est la vie.

I think becoming vegan made me a bitter person.

So here's a post; because I texted my friend about this and he hasn't replied even though it's already been at least 3 whole minutes and I'm kind of going out of my brain with worry. I'd just talk to someone else but I don't think they'd get it- vegans are supposed to calm, and in touch with nature, and noshoewearing hippies from whose delicate fingers stream peace and love.

I'm angry. I'm angry a whole lot nowadays, but I'm also confused. As a vegetarian, my life felt lifted and I was happier knowing nothing was murdered just for the pleasure of my taste buds. As a vegan, however, I feel like my life has been completely and irreversibly altered so that everywhere I turn now, I see sin. I see sin on my family's dinner plates. I see sin in food courts. I see sin in supermarkets. I see sin in cafes. I see sin in bakeries. I see sin in gifts. I see sin in the smiles of strangers, because they now look fake to me. How can anyone consume any animal by products and still be happy, with the knowledge that those by products were most likely not taken in the kindest of ways? And then, I feel guilty for thinking like this; I'm turning into those vegans I so despise, the ones that scream and yell and shoot withering looks at meat eaters or even vegetarians because they haven't made the same choice they have.

And then I worry that I've gone too far- that being vegan is too much for me to handle because my hardships become humanity's evils, and any sense of disapproval I feel towards meat eaters who see vegetarianism as unnecessary is multiplied up to staggering heights behind which I stand, unable to see things as they truly are, as one person- one person- will spit a condescending comment in my direction about how I'm a contradiction because I refuse to contribute to animal cruelty but feel no guilt for "hurting" plants. Oh, I'm sorry. I had no idea plants had the capacity to feel emotional or physical pain. Why didn't someone tell me sooner?

I want to give up. It's too hard.






But I can't. I can't go back now, not with the understanding that the lifespan of a cow is potentially reduced by years through the milking process; not with the understanding that chickens are potentially crammed into cages where they will spend their short, miserable lives; not with the understanding that "free range" eggs potentially means chickens are stuffed into barns where many die of disease or suffocation; I can't have any part to do with potentialities of any of those situations, but I can't maintain my same state of mind either.

I guess I need an attitude change.

But you know what irks me? (No, I'm not done ranting.) When meay eaters get defensive if you question their eating habits and say 'I'm not the one who cares about animal rights; you are.' That's a totally dodge thing to say, but I've heard it on several occasions although it may have been said in jest- but seriously? So it's completely fine to say that vegetarianism in itself is a contradiction, but the murder of innocent animals makes perfect sense? I guess if you don't fight against it, then there's no need to justify your actions; thus allowing others to find *contradictions*. Tell me. Why do you eat meat? I begrudgingly admit there is logic in the "eating meat allowed the human brain to develop" argument, but do we still need meat now? Or have our brains developed so that we could and would find moral objections to abusing that intellectual superiority we have over every other animal on the planet?

Is there any validity to the "If cows were in our position, we'd be chomped up for dinner too" argument? I put it down as a hypothetical. As an impossible hypothetical over which no time should be wasted, because cows are actually herbivores- we don't eat so we're not eaten.

Now I'm just even more worked up and I'd really like to talk to someone about this but my parents drive me insane and my brothers don't care, and quite frankly, not many of my friends care either and those that do I don't want to annoy with my incessant vegan antics.

I bite my thumb at you, sir.

Rao.

Jesse's back...ALRIGHT

I'm home.
Five weeks ago I remember feeling swamped by time, almost to the point of drowning to never return to what I knew to be familiar. But that's enough of melodramatic language. I'll save that for Lit. this year.
While I was in Indonesia, I kept a journal and wrote everday, so I'm going to type up my last entry, as it sort of sums up the experience- maybe.

Departure
So this is weird; to write my final entry for this journal using a different pen to all my other entries, on a plane bumping along a runway, eager to hit the sky. It's incredibly sad leaving everyone behind. I'll miss them all, and want to see them again someday, but I realise this is of course unrealistic- even to see one of them again is rather a stretch from *perhaps* reality. I haven't cried yet, but I'm sure there's fountains of tears just waiting for a time to shine. I regret unfinished moments with people. I regret not apologising more profusely and being more aggressively grateful. But I am honestly completely and utterly so grateful for this incredible experience and I'll miss each and every friend made along the way- 7 of which I hope to continue to see. At school, that is, as we've all grown so much closer through this trip and I love that we've all come from different "cliques" but have still managed to become almost like a family. I miss Nicky, Riban, Hanna Brata, Dudu, Karin, Miranthi, Mira, Rubiks, Nur, Dessy, Anna, Ratih, Bunga, Citra, Berlei, Maya, Yoga, Sef, Brahm (even Brahm!), Anggi, Johannes...RAYMOND!, Prima, Alfath, "Chinese Pig", Siti, Bella, Wira, my entire X.6 class, Diah, Tarka and lots more. Aduh. Sedih sekali.
I think it's fair to say, or even needless to say, that this has been the best summer yet.
(By the end of this entry, I was crying. I'm not understanding all these crying episodes. Since when did my life get so emotion inducing?)



I thought that picture was cute. The guy on my left is Riban, and next to Deborah is Alfath. They were best friends, mayhaps, and Alfath had such a thing for Deborah. But hey, most all guys at Krida did. Except Riban. He's mine;)
I'm having such Indonesia withdrawals and it's Terrible. With a Capital T.
Anyway, that's all. I did a lot of stuff and met a lot of people and felt confused a lot of the time. It was fun, and I'm so glad I went.

xx

By the way, the title is a Backstreet Boys' reference. I hope people got that.