Thursday, February 08, 2007

well so here we go

i wonder if there will be a difference
so i took all the photos down
and all the full name like things
now. what to post?

Friday, February 02, 2007

well isnt this dandy

maybe i should start posing again
good things
like real thing
not being a FUCKING 12 YR OLD
yea bring it on
although maybe ill take my name off this
and do something about my pictures....yesyes

Saturday, November 19, 2005

Starving for nachos

WAAAAA! I say I say I say WAAAAAAAA this is so Awful
bad. I’m having such a teenage moment I really feel I need to share it with you. I am horribly depressed right now which is really very annoying as I should be happy. Bloody hormones! My god, ok so my boarding house room is in the year 12 corridor, and all the year 12s around me have boyfriends, who they talk to and about incessantly, all night talking to their adoring boyfriend on the phone. Now this would be all well and good if I couldn’t hear them, or better yet if I had a boyfriend to talk to….but I don’t. Moreover, they come and visit them…all the time. Its starting to be something of an issue here….I need a boyfriend.

Well, now that I’ve got that out.

Monday, October 10, 2005

7 nation army is holding me back

Well, well, well here we are again, and yes i will finish those other posts I promise, but here we are with me censoring my self again because my parents and ‘the man’ say I have to. So here is my problem, the choir was really, really fun, in a weird, freaky kind of way, but I just want to tell what happened. I don’t want to ruin my choir masters career…I don’t want people the attack the girls who were flirting with him, I don’t want to deal with the responsibility, let alone the ramifications of my actions, or words. I guess this is what writers grapple with, I mean I can’t tell the Thai Princess story because her parents will go through the roof if they ever see it. Half the things I do, say, think and want to write I can’t. I want to tell it like it is, and I am being forced to lie by society, it’s not fair. Nothing inappropriate happened at choir, with anyone, it was just what goes on. It didn’t go any further than a bit of mild flirtation and in all honesty what’s wrong with that? I once wrote a story about this girl who has an affair with a teacher, but when I showed it to a friend she automatically tried to guess which teacher I was sleeping with…..I WASN’T SLEEEPING WITH ANYONE let alone one of out 300 year old teachers. Every day I get what if the school reads your blog? What if the choir reads your blog? WHAT IF I PRETENDED TO CARE!! I don’t even have the guts to swear on here, what if one day I do get to be a singer and some ratty reporter digs this up and it ruins my life? What if I become a writer, and then all this bad writing ends up in Hello? Hmm? What would I do then; say I should have listened to my parents? I love all the sick, twisted, messed up thoughts I have, I love the freaky things I think of, I love the fact they trip people out…and I want to enjoy it, its like telling people how old I am after I tell my opinion of the political situation in Oman as verse as Iraq and how I think we should fix the world, it is a small pleasure I enjoy. Shocking people with my writing, is something I have always done, but as I get a bit older, I find I am less and less capable of writing what I really want to. Am I just another affected teenager? Am I just rambling because I care too much what everybody thinks of me? I’m not sure, I hope not. How can I expect people to read my blog, and like it, if I don’t even say a bit of what I feel? GRRRRRRRR. Why cant life just be simple?

Friday, October 07, 2005

Random Weirdness

Random Weirdness she posted on mine and hers is HELL COOL

Thursday, October 06, 2005

another half finished post...what?

I had died, it seemed and gone to a lower realm of Hell, clearly I was an assassin in a past life. This Hell is known as National Performing Arts Camp, however I have been half past dead and seen what was waiting, I didn't like it so I came back. The most immature five days of my life, did however have some use, I discovered certain things about the teenage 'species' and how to treat them to get the best results. Now we all know I have a long and somewhat unpleasant history with not being able to deal with teenagers, however I have been making an effort to over come this problem that I have. The effort has been a series of fits and starts hampered by holidays, injections and AMEB drama exams (more on the latter later), however I feel that performing arts school has taught me a lot about how to deal with teenagers. Teenagers are a funny breed, and I have never quite managed to be one, or understand them. I have quite a lot to tell you all so Ill try and make it all the end, it was quite fun really

So I decide that I don’t really want to be Miss popular, as last time I did something like this that just got me no where.  So I just kind of ignore everyone and let them do there thing, by the end of the week everyone new my name, everyone knew who I was, and every one thought I was hysterical, I don’t really know why.

Strangely enough, the girls who were mean, were the ‘popular’ ones, the girls who were funny were the ones people actually liked and the ones who flirted with the teachers were generally hated by everyone but well the teachers…hmm

I ended up with a huge following of little kids who got me things, listened to my stories and said they wanted to grow up and be just like me. I mean what a disturbing thought.

I think world domination is something I should aspire to. I mean, why not? I could have an army of children just like me, who dress like me and talk like me. Who think like me? Because it means power and respect, even if it means you are not Miss Popularity. Most of the younger children I have met, want to be me, even when I tell them they don’t, even when they see that no kids my own age like me.  I tell them that they can’t want to be me because I’m disturbed and they don’t care.

It is rather interesting when you really think about it. I offered them protection from the bully; I meant safety, even if they had to put up with my insanity. So here is how it worked. The girl who is deemed the bully and all her friends with their fuck off air, walk up to me when I’m on my own, to inform me that I look fat in my jeans, I, of course, take this as a complement and cut them down to size with a series of shallow and amusing remarks, not that it was hard. I didn’t have to tell people, most of the older kids don’t even know it happened, but enough little kids saw to understand, and spread the word.  They had started it, but I had defiantly finished it. As I said, not like that was a big ask, or something I’m particularly proud of, although I’m not ashamed either. In reality, I was big and scary, but I hadn’t been unjustifiably mean.

On a slightly less lame note, although, on second thought maybe not, my choir teacher (28yrs old, reasonably good looking but he has a god tattoo….yeah I know) flirted with the ‘Bi-Low’ Girl (they wore their bi low name tags, for those of you who don’t know that makes they check out chicks), aka the nasty ones who said I looked fat…and they really, really, really flirted back. Not that it was obvious or anything. Also, he got attacked by a pack of girls, when we were trying to figure out how old he was (every mans dream really, pack of sixteen year olds surrounding you and threatening to hurt you, when you know they can’t, and moreover you know they wont). He was crucified, he took us for a walk and I think we destroyed his sanity in the first ten minutes, but then again what did he expect?


Note this is a work of fiction!! And it’s not finished clearly.

A funny thing happened yesterday, I realised that I lie to people all the time. I lie because it’s convenient, because they will think I’m cool. I lie because I can, and because people believe me. I lie about my age, about my background, about where I have been and what I have done. And strangely enough, I lie to make my self seem more normal, not to make my self stand out. I lie about my life, my parents my self.

Sunday, September 25, 2005

dullness part 2

Pls read my post called 1000 words peace (or even piece) of cake, as it is much more interesting than this…..

So I have come to the conclusion that I have to carry a note book, given how dull my last entry was. I mean I think of good things to write about, I do, I really, really, really do. But then I forget them, and when I sit down, I have nothing. (It gets better)

Ok so you know what I said about, what would happen if I started to talk about sex, politics and religion? And how that would be scary? Well I forgot to add the bit about it giving my parents hearts attacks. Also there is always a chance that someone at school may read this, i.e. a teacher, and well I don’t want them to kick me out just yet. So here is the thing, I’m kind of grappling with the fact that I really want to write things I can’t. I want to say things I don’t have the guts to, I want to not care, I really do, but I can’t. I’m so worried that people will think I don’t know what I’m talking about or that I’m some stupid teenager that I don’t really write what I want to. I am so worried that they will commit me or my parents will send me to therapy (again) or my school will. Let me give me an example.

I wrote this story that I was very proud of. It was my comment on my peers, their maturity in some areas and their lack of in other. The story was about a group of young girls, who decide to auction off their virginity on the internet, (pls don’t rip me off coz ill cry) and do not realise what effects it will have on their psychosomatic states. None the less, they do it on their own terms and with a sense of real maturity.  And in the end some win and some lose, but I was really proud that I wrote it. However

I got someone to read the outline, plot thing and he said it was really good so I was encouraged, but it all went down hill from here. My brother told me I couldn’t show it to my school (good advice) and I couldn’t really show it to mum because I have given up showing my writing to her. I couldn’t show it to dad, and none of my friends would understand, so it got shelved, with everything else. It was a whole book; it took me hours and hours (THINK FOUR DAYS STRAIGHT without sleep or exercise or closing my eyes for fear of falling asleep and never waking up). Ah well I guess that’s life.

I really love to write, but I’m not that good at it. There is so much I want to say, and I have no time at all to say it. I’m so confused right now because I am yet again writing about nothing. I wonder if everyone has this problem, when did I start caring what people thought this much? I have written so many things it’s not funny, but I can’t, I just can’t show anybody. I think this is why my blog lacks inspiration, because I can’t say what I really want to. A life lived in fear is a life half lived, that’s what the saying should be.
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