お元気ですか？

There's a great line from a Regina Spektor song- "Power to the people we don't want it we want pleasure and the TVs try to rape us and I guess that they're succeeding". It's actually a great song in general. Kind of anti-God, but brilliant all the same. In fact, I've decided to attach it. And now I can't find it. So while my computer is searching, (OH WAIT. Here comes Youtube.) let me tell you the relevance of such lyrical beauty. Trust me, it sounds so much better in my head; like all musical and that. I was going to watch TV but then decided I would stay away from such cultural rape and write a blog post instead.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xguB5tdGyS0 [click here for Regina Spektor]

I'm sitting here drinking energy drink, AKA poison, in an effort to stay light and happy.

I made a card yesterday, while my mother made a cake without a hole, despite my best efforts to encourage her to appreciate holiness. It is of my opinion that cakes are a tad more fun if they are holey because they're so hard to ice and then sprinkles go everywhere and anywhere, and you can use a spoon to round up all the icing making running for the hills, or the edge of the cake plate, to be more specific.

I made this card because I was cleaning my room and I found all this beautiful paper and ribbon and a jar of awesome blue glitter, so I decided to make a card for my best friend, mainly because she is the one most likely to appreciate my ahem creative spirit *cough*. I thought the end result was quite nice, except I have glitter all over and there is a ton of blue shimmery stuff in my bed. All the card said was 'Thankyou for all the years- dari (from)Jesse xxx' because we've been friends since year 3. I moved to St Bridgets when I was eight years old and terrified of people, and one lunchtime I was picking daisies by myself on the school oval and she came up and said hello. I remember kind of just staring at her blankly and then her leaving, but some time soon after that the teacher sat her down next to me in class (we had designated seats in rows of two down the classroom. Her designated seat buddy kept making all these racist comments because she is Chinese and I was the new mute weirdo so I had no seat buddy.) and we've been friends since. I actually think it would be very very hard to live without her. I'm just so used to running to her all the time to talk and she's so hilarious and OH DEAR LORD I'M CRYING. She isn't dead, or dying, by the way. I just reread it and it kind of sounds like preparation for her eulogy. So let me just assure you she is indeed very alive at this point. But yes. She's amazing and I just felt like I had to share that.

I just decided to make a list of stuff I currently love. Hope you don't mind.
- when everything adds up to a nice rounded number, especially at work when people buy a loaf of bread and a croissant: $2.80+$2.20=$5!
- flowers. specifically orange ones.
- remembering a happy/funny moment and smiling to yourself while other people look at you as if you're strange.
- my friends.
- pretty paper.
- not having to do any more speeches! Every year in English at my school, we have to give speeches in class about a given topic, and this year's one was to interpret the quote from Hamlet: 'Conscience doth make cowards of us all'. I think my speech was kind of off topic, but at least it's done! I have terrible issues with speaking too fast when it comes to speaking publicly in a persuasive manner. I'm just really glad it's over for this year.
- my grandmother. She can speak German and Indonesian fluently; she was paid only three quarters of what the men were paid when she was young and working as a teacher; she has really awesome clothes except of course she doesn't know it; she's a musical genius; she talks too fast, like me.
- ya mum jokes. I know, they're terrible. BUT THAT'S WHY THEY'RE SO HILARIOUS!
There should be more but I think it's time to move on.

Sylvia Plath was mental. I'd like to be mental, but in a less erm destructive way. That whole image of the misunderstood poet has kind of shaped her in my mind, and it's a shame that that's an extremely dillusional or ROMANTIC (if you will) take on reality. I like the idea of being individual and living for creativity. I'm reading this book called 'How to be Free', and it's about how to break free from anxiety and the stresses and pressures of modern day living. It offers ways to live a simple life. The author tells his own experiences and it's like every time I turn a page I'm like "That's totally me! That's what I'M like!" in that I feel anxiety is not a good thing at all, and organisation is just tidy mess. The book encourages you to take up a musical instrument, to produce more and buy less, and to do back to basics DIY style. As in, do things yourself. Don't pay others to do them for you- this is how they control you. Be selfish. Be your definition of amazing.

I'm off to go walk my dog and then study Japanese and then History and then maybe I'll think about looking at Maths. After that I shall clean my Indonesian exchange student's room then mine. I'd like to put some flowers in her room. What do you think? Nice to pretty things up a bit.

May you float through Thursday like the scent of the moon.

CIAO!

"Mad Girl's Love Song"- Sylvia Plath

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

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.