I went to an undies party. My friends were there and that was fine.
There were some boys next door having a normal clothes-on sort of party. We stood on the deck and everyone yelled at them and I stood there silently but they still picked me out and said they wanted me.
They came over and introduced themselves and touched me and asked me to dance and asked me to go upstairs but none of them talked to me and I felt sad and worthless.
Then when one did bother to talk to me I think I felt sadder and more worthless. He was genuinely concerned and quite distressed that I don't have any plans in life and I don't know where I'll be next year and I don't know where I want to be in 30 years. He's going to be a doctor. Medicine is a good degree to take, he says, because you can walk straight out of it into a career and you know where you're going. What on earth do you do with a degree in Energy Management? If he was me, he says, he wouldn't be able to sleep at night not knowing what awaits.
I'm really not sure what I think about this. I don't know whether I think he's boring or whether I envy him a little. I think maybe a bit of both. Mostly I don't know what I think of myself.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Friday, April 15, 2011
I'm calling this one Jeffrey. It seems like a good name for a blog post.
I suppose I'll write something, because if I don't do it now then I never will and I'll look back in a year and think, hey, I used to have a blog but then I didn't look after it and it died just like all the plants I've ever had. This will leave me with a feeling of failure and inability to commit to anything or to take on anything remotely resembling responsibility. In other words, if I don't write a blog post right now, my sense of self-worth will be irreparably shattered.
I think I'll try writing a story someday - not today though. Lately I've been living very much in world of fantasy thanks to Neil Gaiman. I think he is probably the cleverest person in the world. Living in stories is fantastic but I have very little real life to write about when all I ever do for fun is read books. And god knows no one wants to read about, and I certainly don't want to write about, what I do for not fun. Reading stories can make you feel so wonderful that I wonder what it would feel like to write them. I'm not sure where my imagination is, though. I know I used to have one. I used to concoct glorious tales when I was a wee baby and they forced us to write stories in school every morning. The protagonist was usually Tigger, who is the king of all my soft toys. He was often accompanied by his wife, Sealy. Clearly my imagination didn't stretch as far as the naming of my toys, but I swear it was there. They went to the end of the world and had to race against time and got blown out of volcanoes and then sometimes it was just household issues like when Sealy thought she was ironing Tigger's spare stripes but it was actually him and he ended up flat... and that horrible time that Tigger weed in Whaley's drinking pipe and Whaley died so Tigger had to go to toilet jail and everyone hated him. Poor Tigger. I also seem to remember something about a rainbow cat and a machine that ate teachers. I could do with both of those things right now.
I don't know why it never occurred to me to write something that doesn't rhyme before. I don't even like poetry an awful lot, and though I quite like the songs I write, I can't sing and I don't give them to anyone else so they just disappear into the void.
I'm rather glad I wrote this now. The thing is, it doesn't matter if not a single person reads it. All that matters is that I wrote it. I kind of hope no one ever reads it, because they might laugh at me and say that I have no imagination and suck at writing. I'd rather live in my safe protective bubble of fantasy, thank you very much.
I think I'll try writing a story someday - not today though. Lately I've been living very much in world of fantasy thanks to Neil Gaiman. I think he is probably the cleverest person in the world. Living in stories is fantastic but I have very little real life to write about when all I ever do for fun is read books. And god knows no one wants to read about, and I certainly don't want to write about, what I do for not fun. Reading stories can make you feel so wonderful that I wonder what it would feel like to write them. I'm not sure where my imagination is, though. I know I used to have one. I used to concoct glorious tales when I was a wee baby and they forced us to write stories in school every morning. The protagonist was usually Tigger, who is the king of all my soft toys. He was often accompanied by his wife, Sealy. Clearly my imagination didn't stretch as far as the naming of my toys, but I swear it was there. They went to the end of the world and had to race against time and got blown out of volcanoes and then sometimes it was just household issues like when Sealy thought she was ironing Tigger's spare stripes but it was actually him and he ended up flat... and that horrible time that Tigger weed in Whaley's drinking pipe and Whaley died so Tigger had to go to toilet jail and everyone hated him. Poor Tigger. I also seem to remember something about a rainbow cat and a machine that ate teachers. I could do with both of those things right now.
I don't know why it never occurred to me to write something that doesn't rhyme before. I don't even like poetry an awful lot, and though I quite like the songs I write, I can't sing and I don't give them to anyone else so they just disappear into the void.
I'm rather glad I wrote this now. The thing is, it doesn't matter if not a single person reads it. All that matters is that I wrote it. I kind of hope no one ever reads it, because they might laugh at me and say that I have no imagination and suck at writing. I'd rather live in my safe protective bubble of fantasy, thank you very much.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Control and Escape
Being out of control of my own situation is one of my greatest fears, or hates, or just something that makes me miserable and uncomfortable. I hate feeling like my plans are in someone else's hands. Often I'd rather do things by myself than with someone else, because then I am in control of what happens. For example, travelling. If someone offers me a ride somewhere, whether I will accept it depends on whether I feel like I will have input into when we leave, how long we stay, etc, or whether I will have to go along with that person's plans. If they want to do something I don't then do I have an escape? An alternative option? Or will I be forced to stay with that person? If I feel like I am likely to find myself in a situation I can't control, then I will find my own way. Or not go.
Right now, I am feeling completely out of control of my entire life situation. When I say that, I mean the fact that I am spending 14 hours a day working my ass off at school just to pass my course. And I can't see a viable escape path. There ARE escape paths, but there aren't any that have a high chance of landing me in a situation any better than this one. If I don't graduate this year, I will lose 100% of my sense of worth. If I don't graduate specifically with 1 X BMus and 1 X BAppSci (hons, 1st class), I will lose probably 90% of my sense of worth. Self esteem will be shattered. So I have to keep going, and do my best to do what I have to do just to keep myself from not completely hating myself on top of hating my life.
Of course, the end is in sight. In November this will all be over. I'm assuming I'll pass. I'm hoping I'll get my first class honours. And god, I'm scared of what comes next. I'm scared of not getting a job. I'm even more scared of getting a job that I hate. I can't even think of an Ideal Job. I can't think of something that I want to do for 40 hours a week that realistically someone would pay me to do. I don't have anything to hope for, or work towards. If I knew what I wanted then I could take steps to get there. But I don't. That's That.
There are also some other things I want to say.
1. Coal companies are bad
2. Neil Gaiman is great
3. Chocolate hot cross buns taste nothing like the real thing
4. It is fucked up that there are no hot cross buns in America
5. I wish it would be winter. I hate the sun
6. I prefer right/wrong to good/bad
I think I may write about 1, 2 and 6 in coming days. I think I will start writing in here semi-regularly again. I think I will also try to make future posts more positive. And prettier.
Right now, I am feeling completely out of control of my entire life situation. When I say that, I mean the fact that I am spending 14 hours a day working my ass off at school just to pass my course. And I can't see a viable escape path. There ARE escape paths, but there aren't any that have a high chance of landing me in a situation any better than this one. If I don't graduate this year, I will lose 100% of my sense of worth. If I don't graduate specifically with 1 X BMus and 1 X BAppSci (hons, 1st class), I will lose probably 90% of my sense of worth. Self esteem will be shattered. So I have to keep going, and do my best to do what I have to do just to keep myself from not completely hating myself on top of hating my life.
Of course, the end is in sight. In November this will all be over. I'm assuming I'll pass. I'm hoping I'll get my first class honours. And god, I'm scared of what comes next. I'm scared of not getting a job. I'm even more scared of getting a job that I hate. I can't even think of an Ideal Job. I can't think of something that I want to do for 40 hours a week that realistically someone would pay me to do. I don't have anything to hope for, or work towards. If I knew what I wanted then I could take steps to get there. But I don't. That's That.
There are also some other things I want to say.
1. Coal companies are bad
2. Neil Gaiman is great
3. Chocolate hot cross buns taste nothing like the real thing
4. It is fucked up that there are no hot cross buns in America
5. I wish it would be winter. I hate the sun
6. I prefer right/wrong to good/bad
I think I may write about 1, 2 and 6 in coming days. I think I will start writing in here semi-regularly again. I think I will also try to make future posts more positive. And prettier.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
My Dreams
I want to talk about my dreams.
When I was young, the downstairs basement room thing was my "playroom." It had this fantastic windowseat in it, which looked outside at ground level. My friends and I used to spend hours and hours in there and often slept in there - even though it was uncomfortable, the novelty factor made it worth it. For a while anyway. It used to be full of pillows and blankets and even had curtains but since I am not quite feeling energetic enough to find a photo of it in that state, here it is as it is now - bare and empty, except for a swiss ball.
Haha, I just noticed Big Bird is in the picture. He rules
So anyway. One day when I was a kid (not a clue how old. Could have been 8, could have been 14... I really can't remember) I awoke absolutely certain that my windowseat contained an extra room off to the side. This extra room was only JUST big enough for me to fit in, curled up. And it had a sheepskin in it. And then, on the other side of this wee hole, there was another hole in the wall, which had a model boat in it behind a pane of glass.
I somehow had some clue that the existence of this extra room might have just been a dream, but I was probably about 70% convinced that it was real. I had memories of being in there on several different occasions, but somehow I also just found the whole concept unrealistic. Well of course, I bounced out of bed and down the stairs, 70% expecting to find a wee hole in which I could sit and read my book. It wasn't there. I was bitterly disappointed.
NOW. Here I am, however many years later, back in my parents' house, in the same bed. Somewhere near my hometown, there is a mountain that I walk up every now and then. Well, I've probably done it about 5 times in my life, and not since about a year ago. What I usually do when I get to the top is get naked on the helipad and see how long I can stay that way without freaking out that someone else will arrive and see me sprawled about indecently on this slab of concrete. (I think this whole playing games with yourself thing comes of being an only child). Anyway - today, I woke up utterly convinced that at the top of this mountain there was a hut which I sometimes slept in. There was also a river crossing involved in getting to the hut (there are no rivers up there...) but the oddest thing was that the hut contained a room identical to the one which had magically sprung off my window seat all those years ago. And the prospect of it was SO appealing, just as it had been the last time. I almost rushed off to scale the mountain, but then I stopped and THOUGHT and remembered my dream of many years ago and eventually remembered that at the top of the mountain there is NOT a hut, just a helipad. And even though I KNOW that I have never climbed the mountain and slept in a hut with a little cubby room in the wall, I feel like I have several memories of having done so. I feel like I have gone up with the intent of sleeping there sometimes, and I feel like sometimes I have done it spontaneously and texted my mother to tell her I won't be home that night. I feel like sometimes I have done it alone, and sometimes I have done it with friends. But I know I never have. It is the oddest feeling.
When I was young, the downstairs basement room thing was my "playroom." It had this fantastic windowseat in it, which looked outside at ground level. My friends and I used to spend hours and hours in there and often slept in there - even though it was uncomfortable, the novelty factor made it worth it. For a while anyway. It used to be full of pillows and blankets and even had curtains but since I am not quite feeling energetic enough to find a photo of it in that state, here it is as it is now - bare and empty, except for a swiss ball.
Haha, I just noticed Big Bird is in the picture. He rulesSo anyway. One day when I was a kid (not a clue how old. Could have been 8, could have been 14... I really can't remember) I awoke absolutely certain that my windowseat contained an extra room off to the side. This extra room was only JUST big enough for me to fit in, curled up. And it had a sheepskin in it. And then, on the other side of this wee hole, there was another hole in the wall, which had a model boat in it behind a pane of glass.
I somehow had some clue that the existence of this extra room might have just been a dream, but I was probably about 70% convinced that it was real. I had memories of being in there on several different occasions, but somehow I also just found the whole concept unrealistic. Well of course, I bounced out of bed and down the stairs, 70% expecting to find a wee hole in which I could sit and read my book. It wasn't there. I was bitterly disappointed.
NOW. Here I am, however many years later, back in my parents' house, in the same bed. Somewhere near my hometown, there is a mountain that I walk up every now and then. Well, I've probably done it about 5 times in my life, and not since about a year ago. What I usually do when I get to the top is get naked on the helipad and see how long I can stay that way without freaking out that someone else will arrive and see me sprawled about indecently on this slab of concrete. (I think this whole playing games with yourself thing comes of being an only child). Anyway - today, I woke up utterly convinced that at the top of this mountain there was a hut which I sometimes slept in. There was also a river crossing involved in getting to the hut (there are no rivers up there...) but the oddest thing was that the hut contained a room identical to the one which had magically sprung off my window seat all those years ago. And the prospect of it was SO appealing, just as it had been the last time. I almost rushed off to scale the mountain, but then I stopped and THOUGHT and remembered my dream of many years ago and eventually remembered that at the top of the mountain there is NOT a hut, just a helipad. And even though I KNOW that I have never climbed the mountain and slept in a hut with a little cubby room in the wall, I feel like I have several memories of having done so. I feel like I have gone up with the intent of sleeping there sometimes, and I feel like sometimes I have done it spontaneously and texted my mother to tell her I won't be home that night. I feel like sometimes I have done it alone, and sometimes I have done it with friends. But I know I never have. It is the oddest feeling.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Here We Are Again
And here I find myself at the end of another year. How the time has flown by! And my, how my circumstances have improved since this time last year.
Me on NYE last year: Too fucking sick, mentally and physically, to celebrate, and in an unhappy relationship. This relationship ended a few days into 2010 and since then things have only gone uphill. Well there were a few bumps.... but it's been a good year.
I remember sending him an mp3 of AFP's "Another Year." meaning that I might consider getting back with him in another year when I had, you know, sorted myself out and shit.
FUCK THAT.
Everything is so good now.
So. I have three goals for 2011.
1. Graduate twice. Get first class honours.
2. Lose 15 kg
3. Find something to do in 2012 that is either Not Studying or Not In New Zealand and preferably both.
And my New Years Resolution should help me achieve all of these goals. It's the same as it always is, of course:
Be Good At Life
Here's to Life. Chairs mate eigh. Bring on 2011 baby!
Me on NYE last year: Too fucking sick, mentally and physically, to celebrate, and in an unhappy relationship. This relationship ended a few days into 2010 and since then things have only gone uphill. Well there were a few bumps.... but it's been a good year.
I remember sending him an mp3 of AFP's "Another Year." meaning that I might consider getting back with him in another year when I had, you know, sorted myself out and shit.
FUCK THAT.
Everything is so good now.
So. I have three goals for 2011.
1. Graduate twice. Get first class honours.
2. Lose 15 kg
3. Find something to do in 2012 that is either Not Studying or Not In New Zealand and preferably both.
And my New Years Resolution should help me achieve all of these goals. It's the same as it always is, of course:
Be Good At Life
Here's to Life. Chairs mate eigh. Bring on 2011 baby!
Monday, December 13, 2010
Junkie
This is what I do when I am meant to be working.
I see an expression I like and get the wrong sorts of ideas, i.e. ones that rhyme but aren't actually useful for my project. (I also spend far too much time playing with the magnetic poetry on the fridge...)
This one was "oil addiction."
I'm trippin' again
Feel that rush in my veins
I'm addicted
But I don't wanna be high
No I don't wanna fly
So conflicted
My behaviour gives me cause for reflectin
I try to stick to green, all that other shit I'm rejectin
Even when I say I'm clean I know you're suspectin
And you're right, coz I never stopped injectin
Money into the economy
A fix will never come for free
Capitalist society
Bring your cash and follow me
I always want just one more hit
Pay for it with cash, eftpos or credit
I'll sell my body to fuel my fuel habit
Anything you want baby you can have it
When I say I need junk I don't mean drugs
I mean clothes and toys and gadgets and mugs
I'm on a speed high then I'm in my car
Feeling that rush as I drive so fucking fast
I see an expression I like and get the wrong sorts of ideas, i.e. ones that rhyme but aren't actually useful for my project. (I also spend far too much time playing with the magnetic poetry on the fridge...)
This one was "oil addiction."
I'm trippin' again
Feel that rush in my veins
I'm addicted
But I don't wanna be high
No I don't wanna fly
So conflicted
My behaviour gives me cause for reflectin
I try to stick to green, all that other shit I'm rejectin
Even when I say I'm clean I know you're suspectin
And you're right, coz I never stopped injectin
Money into the economy
A fix will never come for free
Capitalist society
Bring your cash and follow me
I always want just one more hit
Pay for it with cash, eftpos or credit
I'll sell my body to fuel my fuel habit
Anything you want baby you can have it
When I say I need junk I don't mean drugs
I mean clothes and toys and gadgets and mugs
I'm on a speed high then I'm in my car
Feeling that rush as I drive so fucking fast
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Just How I Have Been Feeling Lately
My life is so full of eternal fail and there are so many things that are not quite right or are in fact completely wrong.
I am resentful of so many things and I think that society is stupid and we are doomed and ra ra ra ra you get the gist.
And yet I can't help but be absolutely delighted with every moment.
I am filled with this strange happiness that nothing can ruin.
Has someone been slipping drugs into the drinking water?????
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