This is short.
I remember going to the doctors and not being able to get my regular doctor so I ended up with a pointy nosed, bitch of a doctor.
She glared at me and looked at me with the bitchiest stare.
After my listing of symptoms she says 'Sounds like you suffer migraines.'
Bitch, if you knew how to read, you would see my regular doctor already diagnosed that, what I want is some drugs to stop the motherfuckers.
No, her solution is to instruct me to not take any medication with paracetamol in it and to make me tough it out. Shit man, a medication to help them would be nice, you know since I get 1-3 a week. Fucking hell.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Why I hate everything.
Well, I don't hate everything but I would like to kill some people right now.
My mum today told me about her trip to the mall.
Today was very hot. 34 degrees Celsius, I believe.
Here we barely ever get past 25 degrees.
Mum said she had a sad story to tell me, couldn't be that bad I thought.
Mum said she was at the mall and saw her friend from her Oxi classes (Some form of yoga or something) and her friend is one of the mall security at this mall. She said when she saw her, she was upset looking and mum asked her why.
She said she'd just seen and done the saddest thing she'd ever had to do in her job.
She'd had to break into a car today to remove a dog. Not a distressed dog, not a vicious dog, but a dead dog.
This poor dog had been left in the car, windows up and everything, parked in the sun for slightly more than two hours. When they removed the dog, the metal tag on it's collar was so hot when they touched it, it burnt them really badly.
She said the worst thing was that before they broke in, they'd called for the owners a good 5 times and they'd simply ignored it and continued to eat their McDonald's. When they finally came back to their car, they didn't shed a tear, they didn't give a shit that their gorgeous Pomeranian dog had died. Pomeranian's happen to be my favourite breed of dog. They shrugged it off and were quoted saying "Shit like this happens"
I want to go lock them in a car and watch them die. I'd have no regrets. I'd love to just beat the living shit out of them.
The only good bit of the story is that they're being charged with animal cruelty and such and are not allowed to register another animal ever. I hope they have to pay lots and it fucks up their Christmas. They don't deserve to be happy.
My mum today told me about her trip to the mall.
Today was very hot. 34 degrees Celsius, I believe.
Here we barely ever get past 25 degrees.
Mum said she had a sad story to tell me, couldn't be that bad I thought.
Mum said she was at the mall and saw her friend from her Oxi classes (Some form of yoga or something) and her friend is one of the mall security at this mall. She said when she saw her, she was upset looking and mum asked her why.
She said she'd just seen and done the saddest thing she'd ever had to do in her job.
She'd had to break into a car today to remove a dog. Not a distressed dog, not a vicious dog, but a dead dog.
This poor dog had been left in the car, windows up and everything, parked in the sun for slightly more than two hours. When they removed the dog, the metal tag on it's collar was so hot when they touched it, it burnt them really badly.
She said the worst thing was that before they broke in, they'd called for the owners a good 5 times and they'd simply ignored it and continued to eat their McDonald's. When they finally came back to their car, they didn't shed a tear, they didn't give a shit that their gorgeous Pomeranian dog had died. Pomeranian's happen to be my favourite breed of dog. They shrugged it off and were quoted saying "Shit like this happens"
I want to go lock them in a car and watch them die. I'd have no regrets. I'd love to just beat the living shit out of them.
The only good bit of the story is that they're being charged with animal cruelty and such and are not allowed to register another animal ever. I hope they have to pay lots and it fucks up their Christmas. They don't deserve to be happy.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Diddly dee potatoes.
Well, let's start off with, I haven't blogged in a while. I shall try.
We'll get off with a small story of which is factual.
I'm half Irish. My dad's Irish. My mother on the other hand is boring and has heavy mixes of everything from British to Polish and many other diluted origins, even Maori.
Anyway. This means that if I had to be defined as a certain origin, I'd be mostly Irish.
The other night at dinner my mother gave me a bowl of boiled new potatoes sitting in a pool of melted butter which is an absolute favourite of mine.
I devoured them with no mercy and I asked politely for more. I was declined. "What, mother? No more potatoes? WHY?" I was basically told it's because other people need to eat potatoes too (Here's a handy little note, I had dinner before my family because the main portion of mine was done before theirs. I had a Jamaican chicken burger, they had a bolar roast) I raged. I wanted more potatoes. They were sitting there, waiting for the roast to finish.
I tried to steal some and ended up being yelled at.
Never taking anything seriously, I yelled back but with humour.
"STAY AWAY FROM THE FUCKING POTATOES"
"MUM. I'M BLOODY IRISH, WHAT DO YOU EXPECT?"
"I EXPECT YOU TO RESPECT THE FACT OTHER PEOPLE ARE HUNGRY TOO"
"MUM, DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD THAT FAMINE WAS? NO, YOU'RE NOT IRISH. WE SUFFERED. I JUST WOULD REALLY LIKE IT IF YOU DIDN'T DEPRIVE ME ANY FURTHER"
At that point my mother looked at me as if I were insane.
"Michelle, dear. That was well before your time"
"Yeah, but the pain and suffering is in the blood. I would like it if you'd compensate the pain with a potato or 5"
"Give up. You can have some if there is any left over later"
At this point I got really hungry and wanting a potato. I snarled and walked off.
I saw mum walk past to go to the bathroom so I went and stole some and when she realised she came and told me off.
"Go away, mum, now you know what it feels like to be Irish and starved of precious potatoes"
"God dammit Michelle, why do you even like potatoes so bloody much?"
"I'm Irish"
I'm Irish, your argument is invalid.
We'll get off with a small story of which is factual.
I'm half Irish. My dad's Irish. My mother on the other hand is boring and has heavy mixes of everything from British to Polish and many other diluted origins, even Maori.
Anyway. This means that if I had to be defined as a certain origin, I'd be mostly Irish.
The other night at dinner my mother gave me a bowl of boiled new potatoes sitting in a pool of melted butter which is an absolute favourite of mine.
I devoured them with no mercy and I asked politely for more. I was declined. "What, mother? No more potatoes? WHY?" I was basically told it's because other people need to eat potatoes too (Here's a handy little note, I had dinner before my family because the main portion of mine was done before theirs. I had a Jamaican chicken burger, they had a bolar roast) I raged. I wanted more potatoes. They were sitting there, waiting for the roast to finish.
I tried to steal some and ended up being yelled at.
Never taking anything seriously, I yelled back but with humour.
"STAY AWAY FROM THE FUCKING POTATOES"
"MUM. I'M BLOODY IRISH, WHAT DO YOU EXPECT?"
"I EXPECT YOU TO RESPECT THE FACT OTHER PEOPLE ARE HUNGRY TOO"
"MUM, DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD THAT FAMINE WAS? NO, YOU'RE NOT IRISH. WE SUFFERED. I JUST WOULD REALLY LIKE IT IF YOU DIDN'T DEPRIVE ME ANY FURTHER"
At that point my mother looked at me as if I were insane.
"Michelle, dear. That was well before your time"
"Yeah, but the pain and suffering is in the blood. I would like it if you'd compensate the pain with a potato or 5"
"Give up. You can have some if there is any left over later"
At this point I got really hungry and wanting a potato. I snarled and walked off.
I saw mum walk past to go to the bathroom so I went and stole some and when she realised she came and told me off.
"Go away, mum, now you know what it feels like to be Irish and starved of precious potatoes"
"God dammit Michelle, why do you even like potatoes so bloody much?"
"I'm Irish"
I'm Irish, your argument is invalid.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Keeping it short and not so sweet.
A sense of
Anticipation.
A lack of
Dedication.
A dash of
Asphyxiation.
A feeling of
Relaxation.
Shortest, bluntest piece yet I think.
I don't need to explain it, do I?
Anticipation.
A lack of
Dedication.
A dash of
Asphyxiation.
A feeling of
Relaxation.
Shortest, bluntest piece yet I think.
I don't need to explain it, do I?
Monday, November 15, 2010
Know me, if you will. Love me, if you can.
Here goes with more about me. I'm not self-centered, I just prefer to try and love myself rather than hate myself.
Just like anyone, some people love me and some people hate me.
I should just be happy, but it's not that easy for me.
Something a lot of people don't realise is behind the fake smile lies the pain and the tears which have not yet fallen.
I haven't had a tough life compared to many people, but it has been a challenge.
I spent my childhood not playing merrily with my friends, but being terrified to leave my mothers side. I used to bang at the window and cry when my mother left me at creche. This is because of the bullying that occurred within those walls.
It was mostly physical bullying at that age, it was pushing, shoving, hair pulling, biting, harming and such, but the worst was the girl who picked me up by my pony tail, removing a large chunk of my hair and tossing me to the floor. That place full of glitter and wonder was my equivalent to hell.
I only remember my childhood up to the age of 9 very vaguely. I know it was just physical, emotional and mental torment. I had very few friends due to the fact that I'd become afraid of talking to people and terrified of the thought of trusting anyone. The trust thing still happens now. I have extreme difficulty letting people in.
I've also put my horrible childhood down as the reason I have such a passionate hate for children.
I was 13 when I finally found a voice for myself. I decided with my new found confidence and new found friends, I could take on the world. Next came high school. Fresh start. No one knew me there. I faked an entire personality. The new Michelle wasn't afraid to talk to people. She was out spoken, she quickly gained friends.
Finally, the years of torment had ended, I thought.
This was not the case. A fight led to the loss of all my new friends and to the loss of my confidence, self-esteem and desire to keep trying. It trashed everything I had achieved. Although I made new friends, better friends, the happy, self confident Michelle had died in the process. I faced a mountainous challenge, surviving depression. I did my best to hide it, although with every forced smile, I knew I was just lying to myself. The desire to keep going was fading, I lightly considered ending it all. Nothing else was ending the pain. Luckily I was smart enough to realise that wasn't the best solution.
I pulled through. My physical scars faded, but the emotional ones didn't.
The next year I was doing alright up until a point where yet again, my mental health crashed. I wanted nothing to do with the world. Any mentally healthy person wont understand how it feels to feel so low. You may have your sad days, but when it lasts weeks and months, you really begin to doubt you'll ever feel okay again. I will admit to self harm. I'm not proud of it, but shit happens. Luckily I heal well and scars are a rare occurrence. You honestly feel worthless.
I slowly returned to myself, my unharmed self.
I was going great. I'd been continuously happy, life was looking up.
Up until recently that is. I don't know what happened. Something inside me snapped. All the self worthlessness returned. The confidence fell down. The fake happiness returned to try and hide the pain. My desire to hurt myself crept back in, this time in a location not so obvious as my arm. I just have to keep going. But going on is hard when I get told so many negatives.
I guess I just have to put on a brave face and charge at this head on.
I wish people with mental illness weren't frowned upon. Mental illness is as much of a disease as cancer. Both can kill you. No one chooses to have either. No one wants every good part of their brain ruined by mental illness. It ruins your happiness and your perception. It ruins you and just like cancer, even if you think it's all gone, it can appear again later and even more aggressively.
How come "She died of cancer" is socially acceptable whereas "She committed suicide" is not?
Don't judge me on what I've been through, judge me on the real person I am.
Instead of making negative comments like "Just deal with it" or "It's not that hard, just be happy" or "Just look at the brightside" Because, trust me, if it were that easy, I would not suffer so much.
Try to be helpful. Be supportive. Sometimes all we need is a hug and to be told we're beautiful, but then again, sometimes it isn't that simple.
Just, accept me as I am or not at all.
Just like anyone, some people love me and some people hate me.
I should just be happy, but it's not that easy for me.
Something a lot of people don't realise is behind the fake smile lies the pain and the tears which have not yet fallen.
I haven't had a tough life compared to many people, but it has been a challenge.
I spent my childhood not playing merrily with my friends, but being terrified to leave my mothers side. I used to bang at the window and cry when my mother left me at creche. This is because of the bullying that occurred within those walls.
It was mostly physical bullying at that age, it was pushing, shoving, hair pulling, biting, harming and such, but the worst was the girl who picked me up by my pony tail, removing a large chunk of my hair and tossing me to the floor. That place full of glitter and wonder was my equivalent to hell.
I only remember my childhood up to the age of 9 very vaguely. I know it was just physical, emotional and mental torment. I had very few friends due to the fact that I'd become afraid of talking to people and terrified of the thought of trusting anyone. The trust thing still happens now. I have extreme difficulty letting people in.
I've also put my horrible childhood down as the reason I have such a passionate hate for children.
I was 13 when I finally found a voice for myself. I decided with my new found confidence and new found friends, I could take on the world. Next came high school. Fresh start. No one knew me there. I faked an entire personality. The new Michelle wasn't afraid to talk to people. She was out spoken, she quickly gained friends.
Finally, the years of torment had ended, I thought.
This was not the case. A fight led to the loss of all my new friends and to the loss of my confidence, self-esteem and desire to keep trying. It trashed everything I had achieved. Although I made new friends, better friends, the happy, self confident Michelle had died in the process. I faced a mountainous challenge, surviving depression. I did my best to hide it, although with every forced smile, I knew I was just lying to myself. The desire to keep going was fading, I lightly considered ending it all. Nothing else was ending the pain. Luckily I was smart enough to realise that wasn't the best solution.
I pulled through. My physical scars faded, but the emotional ones didn't.
The next year I was doing alright up until a point where yet again, my mental health crashed. I wanted nothing to do with the world. Any mentally healthy person wont understand how it feels to feel so low. You may have your sad days, but when it lasts weeks and months, you really begin to doubt you'll ever feel okay again. I will admit to self harm. I'm not proud of it, but shit happens. Luckily I heal well and scars are a rare occurrence. You honestly feel worthless.
I slowly returned to myself, my unharmed self.
I was going great. I'd been continuously happy, life was looking up.
Up until recently that is. I don't know what happened. Something inside me snapped. All the self worthlessness returned. The confidence fell down. The fake happiness returned to try and hide the pain. My desire to hurt myself crept back in, this time in a location not so obvious as my arm. I just have to keep going. But going on is hard when I get told so many negatives.
I guess I just have to put on a brave face and charge at this head on.
I wish people with mental illness weren't frowned upon. Mental illness is as much of a disease as cancer. Both can kill you. No one chooses to have either. No one wants every good part of their brain ruined by mental illness. It ruins your happiness and your perception. It ruins you and just like cancer, even if you think it's all gone, it can appear again later and even more aggressively.
How come "She died of cancer" is socially acceptable whereas "She committed suicide" is not?
Don't judge me on what I've been through, judge me on the real person I am.
Instead of making negative comments like "Just deal with it" or "It's not that hard, just be happy" or "Just look at the brightside" Because, trust me, if it were that easy, I would not suffer so much.
Try to be helpful. Be supportive. Sometimes all we need is a hug and to be told we're beautiful, but then again, sometimes it isn't that simple.
Just, accept me as I am or not at all.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
A piece of me.
All you need to know.
I am complicated
As anyone could be
I am a jigsaw
A 1000 pieces of me.
Some are jagged
Some don't fit
Others don't match
And I'm missing a bit.
My pieces aren't strong
They're tattered and torn
Falling to bits
The edges are worn.
I am not a jigsaw
I am just a girl
A diamond in the rough
Not a shining pearl.
Unlike diamonds,
I am not strong
I am merely human
With 1000 things wrong.
I fake my confidence
I fall asleep crying
I act like nothings wrong
I am just good at lying.
I keep my emotions
Hidden in my head
They fester as a mental illness
Of which I dread.
I let few people in
My heart for the taking
I made a mistake
Now it is breaking.
My once dry eyes
Become a well
Within those telling eyes
The tears swell.
I have many scars
Under each one
Lies a battle lost
They can't be undone.
Not accidental
But self inflicted
It may pain me
But I'm addicted.
I need some help
I need a remedy
I need to be loved
Without them hurting me.
They always leave
I'm always broken
I have many words
So few are spoken.
I am complicated
As anyone could be
I am a jigsaw
A 1000 pieces of me.
Some are jagged
Some don't fit
Others don't match
And I'm missing a bit.
My pieces aren't strong
They're tattered and torn
Falling to bits
The edges are worn.
I am not a jigsaw
I am just a girl
A diamond in the rough
Not a shining pearl.
Unlike diamonds,
I am not strong
I am merely human
With 1000 things wrong.
I fake my confidence
I fall asleep crying
I act like nothings wrong
I am just good at lying.
I keep my emotions
Hidden in my head
They fester as a mental illness
Of which I dread.
I let few people in
My heart for the taking
I made a mistake
Now it is breaking.
My once dry eyes
Become a well
Within those telling eyes
The tears swell.
I have many scars
Under each one
Lies a battle lost
They can't be undone.
Not accidental
But self inflicted
It may pain me
But I'm addicted.
I need some help
I need a remedy
I need to be loved
Without them hurting me.
They always leave
I'm always broken
I have many words
So few are spoken.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Chameleon of hair colours.
I've had several hair colours in my life.
We'll start with my natural.
There we go, natural bronde hair, yes, bronde, brown blonde.
January 6th 2010 is the date of my first hair colouring ever.
Hello red and purple streaks. Oh how delightfully different you are.
After getting bored of that came light brown.
Only picture I can find of it. I also gained a few piercings during this stage.
Next one
Darker brown this time. I got bored of this quickly.
Time for red :D It was a browny red, not too extreme.
I went this colour about 3 times.
I wanted a more extreme red.
I went ginger red. It was great.
I tried to go to a 'normal' again.
BACK TO BROWN.
I decided normal wasn't for me.
I went to a nice, vibrant cherry red.
I decided my regrowth was nasty and I should dye it one last time a natural colour
There we go, espresso brown. Darkest brown available
I was content with it until yesterday. I decided I wanted my natural back. This would involve 2 steps, a lightener and a medium blonde dye. I got both.
Last night I got my mum to do the lightener for me.
NOW I'M GINGER.
Oh god, I can not wait to dye it medium blonde.
We'll start with my natural.
There we go, natural bronde hair, yes, bronde, brown blonde.
January 6th 2010 is the date of my first hair colouring ever.
Hello red and purple streaks. Oh how delightfully different you are.
After getting bored of that came light brown.
Only picture I can find of it. I also gained a few piercings during this stage.
Next one
Darker brown this time. I got bored of this quickly.
Time for red :D It was a browny red, not too extreme.
I went this colour about 3 times.
I wanted a more extreme red.
I went ginger red. It was great.
I tried to go to a 'normal' again.
BACK TO BROWN.
I decided normal wasn't for me.
I went to a nice, vibrant cherry red.
I decided my regrowth was nasty and I should dye it one last time a natural colour
There we go, espresso brown. Darkest brown available
I was content with it until yesterday. I decided I wanted my natural back. This would involve 2 steps, a lightener and a medium blonde dye. I got both.
Last night I got my mum to do the lightener for me.
NOW I'M GINGER.
Oh god, I can not wait to dye it medium blonde.
Friday, October 22, 2010
Fear me.
Diets.
Diets are great if you're fat or have an intolerance to something.
Diets are not great when I'm on one. I am not in the slightest bit fat, bloated sometimes where I resemble a pregnant chick, but that goes down and it's okay.
If you know me well, you will know the extent of my chronic headaches and agonizing migraines is absolutely tragic. They interfere majorly with my life. This is what the diet is for, cut out basically anything that is a known migraine/headache trigger for 2 weeks then each week introduce one sort of food back into your diet to see if it triggers these pains or not.
Processed foods, preservatives and gluten are the 3 things I have to cut out. What does that leave me with? Rabbit food.
I'm on day 5 now. I fully crashed. My body does not respond well to no candy, my body loves candy. My moods dropped too. People were genuinely beginning to fear me.
I told someone I'd never met before "Shut the fuck up or I'll rearrange your face". I came dangerously close to punching her in the face. I would have had no empathy.
I announced that anyone who respects their life and their faces will not piss me off next week as my uterus is due to shed it's lining next week and everyone knows I'm a bitch on my period, I'm a bitch with chocolate, I'll be a homicidal maniac with out it. Later I warned my boyfriend, at this point he'd experienced one of my rages as we had gone to the mall to get dinner and nothing was there that I could actually eat. I don't know if he could tell, but I was on the verge of tears.
I told him that if he ever wanted his nuts to reproduce ever again, he would not do anything even slightly out of line next week. Christ, even I'm afraid of what sort of monster I'm going to morph into.
Later the hunger got unbearable so he took me to the supermarket where I found some microwave rice, gluten free, preservative free and no processed. I was happier. I realised sorbet is allowed in my diet too. I got some of that.
Back at his I plowed through the rice like an African child would then moved on to the sorbet. I don't think I've ever been happier in my life. Elliott said it was good to see me that happy, as for the previous 3 hours, I'd either been sleeping, complaining, bitching or trying to prevent myself from killing something.
I think you should all be extremely grateful that sorbet exists, otherwise the world might have met a grizzly end by the end of next week.
Sorbet will be the only thing preventing some murderous massacre occuring.
Oh, and if a series of horrific crimes occur next week, it was totally not me.
Diets are great if you're fat or have an intolerance to something.
Diets are not great when I'm on one. I am not in the slightest bit fat, bloated sometimes where I resemble a pregnant chick, but that goes down and it's okay.
If you know me well, you will know the extent of my chronic headaches and agonizing migraines is absolutely tragic. They interfere majorly with my life. This is what the diet is for, cut out basically anything that is a known migraine/headache trigger for 2 weeks then each week introduce one sort of food back into your diet to see if it triggers these pains or not.
Processed foods, preservatives and gluten are the 3 things I have to cut out. What does that leave me with? Rabbit food.
I'm on day 5 now. I fully crashed. My body does not respond well to no candy, my body loves candy. My moods dropped too. People were genuinely beginning to fear me.
I told someone I'd never met before "Shut the fuck up or I'll rearrange your face". I came dangerously close to punching her in the face. I would have had no empathy.
I announced that anyone who respects their life and their faces will not piss me off next week as my uterus is due to shed it's lining next week and everyone knows I'm a bitch on my period, I'm a bitch with chocolate, I'll be a homicidal maniac with out it. Later I warned my boyfriend, at this point he'd experienced one of my rages as we had gone to the mall to get dinner and nothing was there that I could actually eat. I don't know if he could tell, but I was on the verge of tears.
I told him that if he ever wanted his nuts to reproduce ever again, he would not do anything even slightly out of line next week. Christ, even I'm afraid of what sort of monster I'm going to morph into.
Later the hunger got unbearable so he took me to the supermarket where I found some microwave rice, gluten free, preservative free and no processed. I was happier. I realised sorbet is allowed in my diet too. I got some of that.
Back at his I plowed through the rice like an African child would then moved on to the sorbet. I don't think I've ever been happier in my life. Elliott said it was good to see me that happy, as for the previous 3 hours, I'd either been sleeping, complaining, bitching or trying to prevent myself from killing something.
I think you should all be extremely grateful that sorbet exists, otherwise the world might have met a grizzly end by the end of next week.
Sorbet will be the only thing preventing some murderous massacre occuring.
Oh, and if a series of horrific crimes occur next week, it was totally not me.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
How a cat can scare you into passing out.
So, the other day I woke up tragically ill. I still had the migraine I had tried to sleep off and my stomach was making weird loopy movements. I opened my curtains as it was 11.30AM and time to take a couple of codeine and get well before I had to go to school for a rather important test, one that actually counts towards me passing the year.
As I opened my curtains I noticed my fathers car wasn't parked on the street as usual, I thought 'Oh, well he just abandoned his sick daughter for a while. All is swell. I will survive!' I went out to the lounge to find myself my school uniform. I came back and noticed a car I'd never seen before parked where dad's car is usually parked. I tried to tell myself this was normal. Maybe they were just visiting on of my neighbours, yeah, my neighbours are popular.
I waltzed out to the kitchen to find me some codeine to combat my pain. I heard a really loud crash in the laundry room. I freaked out as we always have that window open. My immediate thought was 'Oh shit, who ever is parked outside my house has broken in and I'm going to get raped' I began to shake, hyperventilate and then my vision went funny. My head was all light and filled with air, I was trying to walk to confront the potential rapist but I didn't make it far. I passed out after a few steps. I really deal with fear well. Same thing happened at the doctors, except I vomited on the nurse, then passed out.
Anyway, I regained consciousness. I was still shaking rather violently. I slowly dragged myself up and walked cautiously towards the laundry room, my legs barely holding me up. I got there and looked down at the ground. I felt like an idiot and although what had caused the noise was cute, the fear was still making me shake and feel dizzy.
The crash was nothing more than my retarded cat, who had been neglected to be fed, taking feeding into her own hands. She learnt that if she tossed the container of cat biscuits on the ground, off the ledge, the lid would fall off and there would be food everywhere. The sound of this mimics a rapist climbing them falling through a window.
I told my cat I hate her and went and took some codeine, got ready for school and ate a carrot.
Later my cat and I went to couples counseling. We're good now. It's okay.
As I opened my curtains I noticed my fathers car wasn't parked on the street as usual, I thought 'Oh, well he just abandoned his sick daughter for a while. All is swell. I will survive!' I went out to the lounge to find myself my school uniform. I came back and noticed a car I'd never seen before parked where dad's car is usually parked. I tried to tell myself this was normal. Maybe they were just visiting on of my neighbours, yeah, my neighbours are popular.
I waltzed out to the kitchen to find me some codeine to combat my pain. I heard a really loud crash in the laundry room. I freaked out as we always have that window open. My immediate thought was 'Oh shit, who ever is parked outside my house has broken in and I'm going to get raped' I began to shake, hyperventilate and then my vision went funny. My head was all light and filled with air, I was trying to walk to confront the potential rapist but I didn't make it far. I passed out after a few steps. I really deal with fear well. Same thing happened at the doctors, except I vomited on the nurse, then passed out.
Anyway, I regained consciousness. I was still shaking rather violently. I slowly dragged myself up and walked cautiously towards the laundry room, my legs barely holding me up. I got there and looked down at the ground. I felt like an idiot and although what had caused the noise was cute, the fear was still making me shake and feel dizzy.
The crash was nothing more than my retarded cat, who had been neglected to be fed, taking feeding into her own hands. She learnt that if she tossed the container of cat biscuits on the ground, off the ledge, the lid would fall off and there would be food everywhere. The sound of this mimics a rapist climbing them falling through a window.
I told my cat I hate her and went and took some codeine, got ready for school and ate a carrot.
Later my cat and I went to couples counseling. We're good now. It's okay.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Death by chances.
Yeah, the first 4 lines just were rolling around in my head for a few days, I typed them up and gradually added to it over a wee while.
It's definitely not my best, but all that aside, it's okay.
It’s a horrible life
But a beautiful day
I’m going to go outside
And throw it all away.
I’ve got nothing to lose
And nothing to gain
I could have done this long ago
I might go end this pain.
I’ve tried this once
I’ll try it twice
It’s a game of chance
Walk away or pay the price?
I play this game, I play alone
I play this little game I know
Luck shall decide my fate
It’ll decide if I stay or if I go.
The chances are one in six
Small revolver, silver bullet
Spin the barrel, finger to trigger
Held to my head, dare I pull it?
I’ve played this before
Fate hasn’t killed me yet
Maybe this time
My life is what I bet.
I’m a gambler
With nothing to lose
If I stay, or if I die
Is not for me to choose.
I feel the pressure on my temple
I close my eyes
I hold my breath
Now for the surprise.
Trigger finger, feeling frisky
I gulp the air
I pull the trigger
My mind is clear.
My horrible life,
Ended on a beautiful day.
Nothing lost,
Nothing gained.
It's definitely not my best, but all that aside, it's okay.
It’s a horrible life
But a beautiful day
I’m going to go outside
And throw it all away.
I’ve got nothing to lose
And nothing to gain
I could have done this long ago
I might go end this pain.
I’ve tried this once
I’ll try it twice
It’s a game of chance
Walk away or pay the price?
I play this game, I play alone
I play this little game I know
Luck shall decide my fate
It’ll decide if I stay or if I go.
The chances are one in six
Small revolver, silver bullet
Spin the barrel, finger to trigger
Held to my head, dare I pull it?
I’ve played this before
Fate hasn’t killed me yet
Maybe this time
My life is what I bet.
I’m a gambler
With nothing to lose
If I stay, or if I die
Is not for me to choose.
I feel the pressure on my temple
I close my eyes
I hold my breath
Now for the surprise.
Trigger finger, feeling frisky
I gulp the air
I pull the trigger
My mind is clear.
My horrible life,
Ended on a beautiful day.
Nothing lost,
Nothing gained.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Quickie.
This is quick and stupid. A lovely conversation between Alys and myself.
Do enjoy.
[About the pain caused by a period. We imagine a man in our ovaries getting shitty and attacking them causes this pain, if that makes any sense]
Alys:
yea i agree. wat u do is imagin a sergical knif cutting the man out the the pain stops. It also works on the beguning of headakes. you should try it
Me:
21:12
I'll go fetch my craft knife, may be a towel to clean the blood up with
Alys:
21:12
IMAGENRY... lol
god thats just freaky woman XD
Me:
21:13
Too late, shit.
I should learn to read.
How do I stop the bleeding?
Alys:
21:15
ummm sow it up?
Me:
21:16
It's okay. This duct tape should hold for now.
Alys:
lol arnt you a godess cant you heal yourself?
Me:
21:17
I have sex powers, not healing powers. Son of the Sex Goddess, Jesusxxx doesn't heal wounds, only hymen so he can pop them cherries over and over.
Do enjoy.
[About the pain caused by a period. We imagine a man in our ovaries getting shitty and attacking them causes this pain, if that makes any sense]
Alys:
yea i agree. wat u do is imagin a sergical knif cutting the man out the the pain stops. It also works on the beguning of headakes. you should try it
Me:
21:12
I'll go fetch my craft knife, may be a towel to clean the blood up with
Alys:
21:12
IMAGENRY... lol
god thats just freaky woman XD
Me:
21:13
Too late, shit.
I should learn to read.
How do I stop the bleeding?
Alys:
21:15
ummm sow it up?
Me:
21:16
It's okay. This duct tape should hold for now.
Alys:
lol arnt you a godess cant you heal yourself?
Me:
21:17
I have sex powers, not healing powers. Son of the Sex Goddess, Jesusxxx doesn't heal wounds, only hymen so he can pop them cherries over and over.
Friday, October 8, 2010
The suicide solution.
Read. It says everything.
Hope lost
Filled with despair
No reason to hold on
No one would care.
She didn’t look back
The blood drains
Deep red streams
Escape her veins.
Her head tilts back
To end the hate
A handful of pills
And a horrid wait.
Her stomach pains
Feeling incredibly ill
Her body slows
And becomes still.
Her pain had ended
Another started
Her solution
Created brokenhearted.
She never thought twice
About who she left behind
The ones who loved her
Have no peace of mind.
People who cared
Now left to mourn
She never considered
Who she’d leave torn.
For she never saw the good
Only the bad
She didn’t realise
How much she had.
A great young life
Now a tragic waste
All thrown away
With such haste.
Everything gets better
That she did not see
They’ll never forget her
But for now she is free.
Hope lost
Filled with despair
No reason to hold on
No one would care.
She didn’t look back
The blood drains
Deep red streams
Escape her veins.
Her head tilts back
To end the hate
A handful of pills
And a horrid wait.
Her stomach pains
Feeling incredibly ill
Her body slows
And becomes still.
Her pain had ended
Another started
Her solution
Created brokenhearted.
She never thought twice
About who she left behind
The ones who loved her
Have no peace of mind.
People who cared
Now left to mourn
She never considered
Who she’d leave torn.
For she never saw the good
Only the bad
She didn’t realise
How much she had.
A great young life
Now a tragic waste
All thrown away
With such haste.
Everything gets better
That she did not see
They’ll never forget her
But for now she is free.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Navigating the darkness.
Another quick poem, not my best, my last one was better.
Hope fades, she’s all alone
Darkness suffocates light
She puts on a brave face
And charges into the night.
No noise as she flees.
Utter silence creeps
The night closes in
While the city sleeps.
Lost in a big city
Alone in the chilled air
Navigating her way home
Filled with utter despair
Frightened, cold and alone
In a city not her own
Each step, a risk
Each one, closer to home.
A rustle, a crack
A noise in the night
She’s shaking inside
Each movement with fright
Street lights dim
Her walk turns to run
Tired but she endures
She sees the rising sun
Morning comes round
She nears closer to home
A first and a last
She decides never again shall she roam.
Home at last
Fear evaded
Filled with joy
Glad that she made it
Hope fades, she’s all alone
Darkness suffocates light
She puts on a brave face
And charges into the night.
No noise as she flees.
Utter silence creeps
The night closes in
While the city sleeps.
Lost in a big city
Alone in the chilled air
Navigating her way home
Filled with utter despair
Frightened, cold and alone
In a city not her own
Each step, a risk
Each one, closer to home.
A rustle, a crack
A noise in the night
She’s shaking inside
Each movement with fright
Street lights dim
Her walk turns to run
Tired but she endures
She sees the rising sun
Morning comes round
She nears closer to home
A first and a last
She decides never again shall she roam.
Home at last
Fear evaded
Filled with joy
Glad that she made it
Saturday, October 2, 2010
She's a lie.
Quick 10 minute poem.
It lacks, but it's alright I believe.
Blue eyed liar.
She thinks she’s something in this world.
All she does is believe.
She walks, head held high.
That girl is naïve.
Nothing stops her.
Each step with pride.
Confidence in her smile.
Although, she lied.
That girl is a living lie.
She tells herself she’s something.
Although, she knows she’s not.
That won’t stop her trying.
She’s a fake.
For the sake of saving face.
With each smile she tells a lie.
The truth, you can’t trace.
One day her walls will crash.
The brick wall of lies.
They’ll fall hard and fall fast.
Those brick walls made of blue eyes.
Yet, someone will love her.
She has to believe.
He’ll stand by her side,
For that young girl is me.
It lacks, but it's alright I believe.
Blue eyed liar.
She thinks she’s something in this world.
All she does is believe.
She walks, head held high.
That girl is naïve.
Nothing stops her.
Each step with pride.
Confidence in her smile.
Although, she lied.
That girl is a living lie.
She tells herself she’s something.
Although, she knows she’s not.
That won’t stop her trying.
She’s a fake.
For the sake of saving face.
With each smile she tells a lie.
The truth, you can’t trace.
One day her walls will crash.
The brick wall of lies.
They’ll fall hard and fall fast.
Those brick walls made of blue eyes.
Yet, someone will love her.
She has to believe.
He’ll stand by her side,
For that young girl is me.
Monday, September 20, 2010
This one time...
Short, yet hopefully funny post.
One sunny day I was casually chilling on my bed like the social lifeless person I am. Every so often I glanced out my window to watch the world go by. In one of my glances I saw my cat, my fluffy child, Fatty. She likes to catch birds and get in scraps with neighborhood cats. She was chilling in the middle of the road, like the brainless twat she is.
With no friends or anything better to do, I sit on the edge of my bed and watch her roll around in the sun, avoiding the odd car. 5 minutes or so passed and I saw a lady I've seen a few times before come around the corner with a pathetic excuse for a dog on a pink sparkly harness. It was a little teacup chihuahua thing. She kept walking merrily, not even acknowledging the useless cat in the middle of the road. Fatty got up and walked slowly away from the centre line. I assumed she'd realised roads don't make good beds, but no. She built up speed.
She ran up and took the chihuahua by surprise. She savagely attacked it. The lady was confused, it was clearly shown in her facial expression. She scooped up her pathetic excuse for a dog and ran away, she looked somewhat distressed. Fatty casually walked back to her place in the middle of the road.
I sat there, still confused as to what I'd just witnessed, I'd just seen my fat ass lazy cat savage a chihuahua. I have new found respect for that useless fluffy claw monster.
I love my cat. She never fails to make me happy.
One sunny day I was casually chilling on my bed like the social lifeless person I am. Every so often I glanced out my window to watch the world go by. In one of my glances I saw my cat, my fluffy child, Fatty. She likes to catch birds and get in scraps with neighborhood cats. She was chilling in the middle of the road, like the brainless twat she is.
With no friends or anything better to do, I sit on the edge of my bed and watch her roll around in the sun, avoiding the odd car. 5 minutes or so passed and I saw a lady I've seen a few times before come around the corner with a pathetic excuse for a dog on a pink sparkly harness. It was a little teacup chihuahua thing. She kept walking merrily, not even acknowledging the useless cat in the middle of the road. Fatty got up and walked slowly away from the centre line. I assumed she'd realised roads don't make good beds, but no. She built up speed.
She ran up and took the chihuahua by surprise. She savagely attacked it. The lady was confused, it was clearly shown in her facial expression. She scooped up her pathetic excuse for a dog and ran away, she looked somewhat distressed. Fatty casually walked back to her place in the middle of the road.
I sat there, still confused as to what I'd just witnessed, I'd just seen my fat ass lazy cat savage a chihuahua. I have new found respect for that useless fluffy claw monster.
I love my cat. She never fails to make me happy.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
I write things with meaning? Apparently so.
So, I do write sometimes.
Oddly, most of it is scary or depressing. I can't write happy.
I have 3 poems for you.
1) Eyes wide shut.
You opened my eyes
To a world so cruel
I learnt from your lies
And broke from your rule
Yes, I’m not perfect,
But neither are you
Self-confidence wrecked,
As your ego grew.
Those nights I cried
While you sat smug
Considering suicide
My sadness, your drug.
My smile now gone
Your grin fixed in place
War of emotions raging
At a frightening pace
But one day I learnt
About every little lie
I felt so burnt
I still don’t know why
But, from this pain
It made me immune
To much future pain
Life will get better, soon.
2) Moonlit murder.
(Based on a dream I had, which ran in my head as a poem. It's a personal favourite)
Her screams pierced through innocent ears.
Crimson knife placed by her side.
Bloody cheeks stained with her tears.
Wrists bound, ankles tied.
She was almost unknown.
Therefore they all forgot.
Her screams, a deafening tone.
She tries to scream louder, yet she cannot.
Her attempts to be heard fade into the night.
Now her heartbeat completely flat lined.
Morning comes, so does sunlight.
Innocent eyes, scarred by their find.
Days, months, years go by.
Piles of evidence, leading no where.
Her case fades, and begins to die.
Almost as if they don’t even care.
On the wrong side of life.
From this she couldn't rebound.
Now dead beside that crimson knife.
Her body, lifeless, lying sound.
This concludes her troubled life.
Her killer, never found.
3) Flaws that kill.
I am flawed, as are you.
Mine I choose not to hide
Unlike you do.
No mountains of makeup,
I was not ashamed.
But you wounded me
You don’t care that I cried.
You made me hate me,
Even after the tears dried.
Every word you said,
Broke me a little more.
I’d rather have been dead.
Soon I’ll be gone.
Soon I’ll be dead.
All your words,
Mess with my head.
I dedicate my death to you.
No, I do not wish to kill myself. I'm happy as I am. I just find it easy to write this sort of stuff.
I am mentally stable.
Oddly, most of it is scary or depressing. I can't write happy.
I have 3 poems for you.
1) Eyes wide shut.
You opened my eyes
To a world so cruel
I learnt from your lies
And broke from your rule
Yes, I’m not perfect,
But neither are you
Self-confidence wrecked,
As your ego grew.
Those nights I cried
While you sat smug
Considering suicide
My sadness, your drug.
My smile now gone
Your grin fixed in place
War of emotions raging
At a frightening pace
But one day I learnt
About every little lie
I felt so burnt
I still don’t know why
But, from this pain
It made me immune
To much future pain
Life will get better, soon.
2) Moonlit murder.
(Based on a dream I had, which ran in my head as a poem. It's a personal favourite)
Her screams pierced through innocent ears.
Crimson knife placed by her side.
Bloody cheeks stained with her tears.
Wrists bound, ankles tied.
She was almost unknown.
Therefore they all forgot.
Her screams, a deafening tone.
She tries to scream louder, yet she cannot.
Her attempts to be heard fade into the night.
Now her heartbeat completely flat lined.
Morning comes, so does sunlight.
Innocent eyes, scarred by their find.
Days, months, years go by.
Piles of evidence, leading no where.
Her case fades, and begins to die.
Almost as if they don’t even care.
On the wrong side of life.
From this she couldn't rebound.
Now dead beside that crimson knife.
Her body, lifeless, lying sound.
This concludes her troubled life.
Her killer, never found.
3) Flaws that kill.
I am flawed, as are you.
Mine I choose not to hide
Unlike you do.
No mountains of makeup,
I was not ashamed.
But you wounded me
You don’t care that I cried.
You made me hate me,
Even after the tears dried.
Every word you said,
Broke me a little more.
I’d rather have been dead.
Soon I’ll be gone.
Soon I’ll be dead.
All your words,
Mess with my head.
I dedicate my death to you.
No, I do not wish to kill myself. I'm happy as I am. I just find it easy to write this sort of stuff.
I am mentally stable.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Hooker hunting and hang-over food.
So last night I stayed at my friends house. Her parents are overseas and her sister ditched to go to her friends for the night, leaving us to do whatever the hell we wanted.
In our city, there is a street well known for hookers, Manchester St. We decided we'd go hooker hunting.
We hopped into my car and took off for town. We organised to meet 2 of our friends in town.
We picked them up. 2 guys, both over 6ft, Steven, a loud ginga and Cheyanne, has a lisp.
They are two awesome guys. We cruised up to Manchester preparing to go down hooker hunting.
Steven and Cheyanne rolled down the windows and each one they saw they yelled something at.
"BARE MY CHILDREN!"
"CAN YOU NAME ALL YOUR STI'S?"
"IF I HAD MONEY I'D PICK YOU UP'
And there were billions more. I'd never seen so many whores in my life. There were shemales and fat hookers too. We saw one who was actually really decent looking and we slowed down and told her she was the nicest looking hooker we'd ever seen. She smiled and thanked us.
We went up and down Manchester a few times and saw one or two get picked up. It was exciting.
Sadly, we had to drop Steven and Cheyanne off.
We had to yell things ourselves on the way home. It was still good fun.
We got home just before the 'No cruising' time came into play so we were okay.
This morning we woke up, hungry as all hell and nothing in the house to eat. We got in the car and went to McDonald's to grab some breakfast. We realised we must have looked tragic and I think everyone at the drive thru thought we were grabbing our hangover food. Sunday mornings are when drive thru's get have to satisfy their hungover customers. Even though we hadn't even had a sip of alcohol, we still felt like we were classed as hungover by them.
All in all, it was a great hooker hunting night. We decided we have to do it again sometime soon, make a habit out of it.
In our city, there is a street well known for hookers, Manchester St. We decided we'd go hooker hunting.
We hopped into my car and took off for town. We organised to meet 2 of our friends in town.
We picked them up. 2 guys, both over 6ft, Steven, a loud ginga and Cheyanne, has a lisp.
They are two awesome guys. We cruised up to Manchester preparing to go down hooker hunting.
Steven and Cheyanne rolled down the windows and each one they saw they yelled something at.
"BARE MY CHILDREN!"
"CAN YOU NAME ALL YOUR STI'S?"
"IF I HAD MONEY I'D PICK YOU UP'
And there were billions more. I'd never seen so many whores in my life. There were shemales and fat hookers too. We saw one who was actually really decent looking and we slowed down and told her she was the nicest looking hooker we'd ever seen. She smiled and thanked us.
We went up and down Manchester a few times and saw one or two get picked up. It was exciting.
Sadly, we had to drop Steven and Cheyanne off.
We had to yell things ourselves on the way home. It was still good fun.
We got home just before the 'No cruising' time came into play so we were okay.
This morning we woke up, hungry as all hell and nothing in the house to eat. We got in the car and went to McDonald's to grab some breakfast. We realised we must have looked tragic and I think everyone at the drive thru thought we were grabbing our hangover food. Sunday mornings are when drive thru's get have to satisfy their hungover customers. Even though we hadn't even had a sip of alcohol, we still felt like we were classed as hungover by them.
All in all, it was a great hooker hunting night. We decided we have to do it again sometime soon, make a habit out of it.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Trashy beauty.
Occasionally I write.
Inspired by a writing exercise in English, I ended up writing this next piece.
What people wrote as a happy beach scene, I wrote as one of utter despair and true beauty.
Reading it would mean a lot to me.
It has a small, yet simple moral.
Sharp bullets of sand, shot at my bare legs by the icily chilled wind, sting my delicate, pale skin. Sea spray adds a salty taste to the mid-winter air. My thin cotton dress waves violently in the wind. Long, curly copper hair repeatedly impairs my vision. Gentle rain cleanses my tear stained face. Little shards of glass try to embed themselves in the soles of my feet as I walk. Behind me, a trail of little blood spots. Above me, a grey, dismal sky inhabiting a few brave, screeching seagulls. The wind, raging in anger, throws sea spray and loose sand at me, as if telling me to leave. I am alone. No one walks along the beach on a day like this. I walk out into the shallow, yet angry sea water. Salt water stings my battered feet, yet the pain only pleasures me. Sea water, so cold my feet numb quickly. The waves crash, metres from me and I feel the water rush over my feet and ankles. I take in a heavy breath of the chilled, salty air, shut my eyelids over my terrified, depressed green eyes and throw myself into the surf. My body freezes in the painfully cold water. With the little strength left in me, I drag my limp body up the soaked, brutally cold shore. No longer in the water, but still drenched, covered only by a short, strapless and now completely sodden cotton dress. My weak legs struggle under my shaking body as I climb to my feet. I secretly wished the ocean had been more violent, dragged me out, and damaged me. Standing, only just, my legs about to fall from under me, I know I’m only doing this in an attempt to harm myself. Mad at life, I begin walking towards the pier, weak legs, stumbling along, intending to end my suffering in a short few minutes. I have never learnt to swim, so I doubt that I’ll be able to fight the water. I reach my pathetic, thin arm out and my shaking hand latches onto the railing of the staircase that will lead to the end of my suffering. I take my first step with little hesitance, almost with excitement. I feel something brush the back of my leg, I turn swiftly to see littered sand. Colourful packaging, bright rubbish and glittering junk create a decorative wasteland. I lower myself onto the step and sit and stare in awe. I look behind me, up to the pier and my eyes dash along to the end. I could be there; I could turn around and finish what I started. I quickly look back over to the wasteland. Rays of sunlight break through the clouds sparsely, reflecting off the decorative litter. A small smile plays on my lips, first in a while. I no longer wish to continue up the stairs, instead I realize what I live for, I live for the beauty in the little things. Finding beauty in what would otherwise be considered trash. My life, made worthwhile by one of the most unlikely things, an admiration for the trashy beauty of which, would be considered by most, as an atrocious mess, but by me as, a piece of beauty. If I can see beauty in rubbish, people can find beauty in me and I can keep discovering beauty in the most unlikely places.
Moral? There is beauty in everything, even if you have to look, it's there.
I might share some other writing of mine another time.
Inspired by a writing exercise in English, I ended up writing this next piece.
What people wrote as a happy beach scene, I wrote as one of utter despair and true beauty.
Reading it would mean a lot to me.
It has a small, yet simple moral.
Sharp bullets of sand, shot at my bare legs by the icily chilled wind, sting my delicate, pale skin. Sea spray adds a salty taste to the mid-winter air. My thin cotton dress waves violently in the wind. Long, curly copper hair repeatedly impairs my vision. Gentle rain cleanses my tear stained face. Little shards of glass try to embed themselves in the soles of my feet as I walk. Behind me, a trail of little blood spots. Above me, a grey, dismal sky inhabiting a few brave, screeching seagulls. The wind, raging in anger, throws sea spray and loose sand at me, as if telling me to leave. I am alone. No one walks along the beach on a day like this. I walk out into the shallow, yet angry sea water. Salt water stings my battered feet, yet the pain only pleasures me. Sea water, so cold my feet numb quickly. The waves crash, metres from me and I feel the water rush over my feet and ankles. I take in a heavy breath of the chilled, salty air, shut my eyelids over my terrified, depressed green eyes and throw myself into the surf. My body freezes in the painfully cold water. With the little strength left in me, I drag my limp body up the soaked, brutally cold shore. No longer in the water, but still drenched, covered only by a short, strapless and now completely sodden cotton dress. My weak legs struggle under my shaking body as I climb to my feet. I secretly wished the ocean had been more violent, dragged me out, and damaged me. Standing, only just, my legs about to fall from under me, I know I’m only doing this in an attempt to harm myself. Mad at life, I begin walking towards the pier, weak legs, stumbling along, intending to end my suffering in a short few minutes. I have never learnt to swim, so I doubt that I’ll be able to fight the water. I reach my pathetic, thin arm out and my shaking hand latches onto the railing of the staircase that will lead to the end of my suffering. I take my first step with little hesitance, almost with excitement. I feel something brush the back of my leg, I turn swiftly to see littered sand. Colourful packaging, bright rubbish and glittering junk create a decorative wasteland. I lower myself onto the step and sit and stare in awe. I look behind me, up to the pier and my eyes dash along to the end. I could be there; I could turn around and finish what I started. I quickly look back over to the wasteland. Rays of sunlight break through the clouds sparsely, reflecting off the decorative litter. A small smile plays on my lips, first in a while. I no longer wish to continue up the stairs, instead I realize what I live for, I live for the beauty in the little things. Finding beauty in what would otherwise be considered trash. My life, made worthwhile by one of the most unlikely things, an admiration for the trashy beauty of which, would be considered by most, as an atrocious mess, but by me as, a piece of beauty. If I can see beauty in rubbish, people can find beauty in me and I can keep discovering beauty in the most unlikely places.
Moral? There is beauty in everything, even if you have to look, it's there.
I might share some other writing of mine another time.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Hiding out in hills with babies and murderous assholes.
Recently I've been ill. I've had nausea, light headedness, been quite anti-food, set off easily by smells and stomach pains.
All these are symptoms experienced in pregnancy, in particular, morning sickness.
A few people have said 'You could be pregnant, you know' Thanks for scaring me guys.
Most people know I don't really like children. I'm one of the few females who find babies ugly and repulsive.
I've always said 'If I get pregnant I'm aborting that mofo straight up'
Last night I had a dream. In my dream all my illness turned out to be a pregnancy. I thought long and hard in my dream and decided to go through with the pregnancy and promised my child to my friend, Hannah, who absolutely loves babies. I got a shock at their birth, I ended up having twins, a boy and a girl. Immediately I fell in love with them. My babies were beautiful. Even though frowned upon for being a 16 year old mother, I showed everyone my twins proudly. I told Hannah I wanted to keep them and she didn't like that. She tried to steal them but I was so attached to them. They were my darlings. I wasn't giving them up. I ended up hiding out in the hills with just me, my baby daddy and my twins.
This dream honestly has changed me. Doesn't sound like much, but it's changed my view point. I feel now, if I did get pregnant, that I'd have trouble even considering abortion. It kind of made me want to get pregnant and have my own twins for real. I still hate children, but my children will be beautiful and decent, unlike everyone elses. It really has effected my view on having children. I'll have one, Vixi-Cobalt Canberra or Cobalt Dallas Cobalt is a pretty name.
On another note, I almost got murdered today.
Hannah (The baby snatcher) and I were waiting to get on a bus. This crazy guy got off and just pushed through everyone. Like, completely recklessly. Everyone watching him walk away with an expression that said 'That guys a douche'. I said out loud to all these people I don't know 'Clearly, he's a dick' but it wasn't loud enough for him to hear.
Hannah commented on his lack of a belt 'I can see his underwear'
He turned around, it was pretty much impossible he heard Hannah's comment but he turned around. He started walking towards all of us waiting to get on the bus. I saw this crazed glare in his eyes. I desperately tried to board the bus A.S.A.P but he made it to us before I could. He clenched his hand into a fist and swung his arm at me and Hannah. We both ducked and missed it. Everyone looked at us. He tried to kill us! I could have died. I got on the bus before he could make it back for another go. It actually terrified me.
I'm never making fun of anyone ever again!
All these are symptoms experienced in pregnancy, in particular, morning sickness.
A few people have said 'You could be pregnant, you know' Thanks for scaring me guys.
Most people know I don't really like children. I'm one of the few females who find babies ugly and repulsive.
I've always said 'If I get pregnant I'm aborting that mofo straight up'
Last night I had a dream. In my dream all my illness turned out to be a pregnancy. I thought long and hard in my dream and decided to go through with the pregnancy and promised my child to my friend, Hannah, who absolutely loves babies. I got a shock at their birth, I ended up having twins, a boy and a girl. Immediately I fell in love with them. My babies were beautiful. Even though frowned upon for being a 16 year old mother, I showed everyone my twins proudly. I told Hannah I wanted to keep them and she didn't like that. She tried to steal them but I was so attached to them. They were my darlings. I wasn't giving them up. I ended up hiding out in the hills with just me, my baby daddy and my twins.
This dream honestly has changed me. Doesn't sound like much, but it's changed my view point. I feel now, if I did get pregnant, that I'd have trouble even considering abortion. It kind of made me want to get pregnant and have my own twins for real. I still hate children, but my children will be beautiful and decent, unlike everyone elses. It really has effected my view on having children. I'll have one, Vixi-Cobalt Canberra or Cobalt Dallas Cobalt is a pretty name.
On another note, I almost got murdered today.
Hannah (The baby snatcher) and I were waiting to get on a bus. This crazy guy got off and just pushed through everyone. Like, completely recklessly. Everyone watching him walk away with an expression that said 'That guys a douche'. I said out loud to all these people I don't know 'Clearly, he's a dick' but it wasn't loud enough for him to hear.
Hannah commented on his lack of a belt 'I can see his underwear'
He turned around, it was pretty much impossible he heard Hannah's comment but he turned around. He started walking towards all of us waiting to get on the bus. I saw this crazed glare in his eyes. I desperately tried to board the bus A.S.A.P but he made it to us before I could. He clenched his hand into a fist and swung his arm at me and Hannah. We both ducked and missed it. Everyone looked at us. He tried to kill us! I could have died. I got on the bus before he could make it back for another go. It actually terrified me.
I'm never making fun of anyone ever again!
Thursday, August 5, 2010
A slice of the life.
My life has been average to me.
Injuries and running down children. Just the norm.
I've been having to wear a support bandage on my wrist since monday.
It hurt all of monday then at work I lifted something heavy and it snapped out of underneath and hurt like a mofo.
It hurt so bad for 3 days I needed mummy to do my bra up for me.
Heeeey sexy. Nice wrist support. My chest support is sexier. We'll stop at that...
But before that I got into an epic fight in the shower, naked and soaking. Blood everywhere. I also looked like a whore.
Hey you bloody whore.
Then I had quality time with my cat, Mia Jezzabelle.
Cat's don't make good scarves.
A montage of Mia and I. That's her happy face. She didn't claw me, noooo...
Then today, the moment I've been waiting for.... MY PLASTIC LICENCE.
I look like a depressed semi-suicidal chipmunk!
Better than my last one where I look like a severely pissed off prostitute who had her crack stolen and had to have sex with dirty old men to buy more and she doesn't like dirty old men or the high price of crack.
FEAR THE ROADS. Suicidal chipmunks are on them.
I had the chance to run down several children. PICTURE TIME :D
So I am driving down the road to pick mum up from work and I have do do 5km to avoid leaving children imprinted on the road. In the car with me is my brother. I, the driver, have this crazed look on my face and my brother and I keep yelling out about how many points I could score killing each child. I yell "BONUS 500 IF I MAKE THE GINGER BOUNCE OFF THE CAR" and my brother's like "BONUS 2000 IF YOU GET HIS PARENTS TOO"
I'm pretty sure people could hear us. I was getting all these weird looks from parents cheering their horrid children on.
I resisted the urge to floor it and watch their tiny pathetic bodies bouncy off my windscreen.
I made it into mums works car park and speed up to 10km which feels like speeding. Then I park in the car park labeled 'President' so I proclaim I'm Obama to everyone I see. Then explain to mum how she is now Obama's mother.
I steal a drink out of the fridge and bags not driving home.
That was my week in a nutshell.
Injuries and running down children. Just the norm.
I've been having to wear a support bandage on my wrist since monday.
It hurt all of monday then at work I lifted something heavy and it snapped out of underneath and hurt like a mofo.
It hurt so bad for 3 days I needed mummy to do my bra up for me.
Heeeey sexy. Nice wrist support. My chest support is sexier. We'll stop at that...
But before that I got into an epic fight in the shower, naked and soaking. Blood everywhere. I also looked like a whore.
Hey you bloody whore.
Then I had quality time with my cat, Mia Jezzabelle.
Cat's don't make good scarves.
A montage of Mia and I. That's her happy face. She didn't claw me, noooo...
Then today, the moment I've been waiting for.... MY PLASTIC LICENCE.
I look like a depressed semi-suicidal chipmunk!
Better than my last one where I look like a severely pissed off prostitute who had her crack stolen and had to have sex with dirty old men to buy more and she doesn't like dirty old men or the high price of crack.
FEAR THE ROADS. Suicidal chipmunks are on them.
I had the chance to run down several children. PICTURE TIME :D
So I am driving down the road to pick mum up from work and I have do do 5km to avoid leaving children imprinted on the road. In the car with me is my brother. I, the driver, have this crazed look on my face and my brother and I keep yelling out about how many points I could score killing each child. I yell "BONUS 500 IF I MAKE THE GINGER BOUNCE OFF THE CAR" and my brother's like "BONUS 2000 IF YOU GET HIS PARENTS TOO"
I'm pretty sure people could hear us. I was getting all these weird looks from parents cheering their horrid children on.
I resisted the urge to floor it and watch their tiny pathetic bodies bouncy off my windscreen.
I made it into mums works car park and speed up to 10km which feels like speeding. Then I park in the car park labeled 'President' so I proclaim I'm Obama to everyone I see. Then explain to mum how she is now Obama's mother.
I steal a drink out of the fridge and bags not driving home.
That was my week in a nutshell.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
The biggest reason I hate society.
Piece of my mind time.
Sarah Michelle is very passionate when she believes in something.
Gay rights I have a lot to say on.
Let's get this straight, gay people are people too. I believe they are my equals. I treat them exactly the same as everyone else. I have no idea why the hell people are so dead set in believing homosexuality is bad.
The Bible says it's a sin? Oh fuck the bible. You know what else the bible says? It says women are not allowed to speak in churches, their place is to sit and listen, their words shall not be heard within a church. Now their are women who are the people who speak in churches and educate church-goers. It also states any women found to be be a non-virgin on their wedding night will be stoned to death on the door step of her fathers house by all the men in the town the following day. If that happened in this day and age it would be found to be disgusting and completely immoral.
There are many more that in this day and age would be considered utterly wrong.
So the Bible is against homosexuality? It's also against women having short hair cuts.
Adam and Eve not Adam and Steve?
Well, why don't over half of all females get stoned to death the day after their wedding night?
The bible is all for that too.
No one takes notice of all the now considered immoral shit in the bible but anything about homosexuality is analyzed beyond belief.
Oh, you don't like gay people? How about I stone you to death after your wedding night.
Okay, enough biblical shit.
What's up with people saying 'That's so gay' and using 'gay' as an insulting word?
Oh, but I want to stab people in the face when they say 'That's homo'.
I can restrain myself when it's gay but homo sets me off on a flying lecture rampage of verbal violence.
Since when did gay mean lame, stupid, dumb etc? It used to mean happy. Now it's so derogatory.
How come someones sexuality, which you don't actually choose, is also now an insult?
I may not be gay, but I'm offended when people use it as an insulting term.
Gay marriage?
I believe everyone has the right to marriage. Marriage shouldn't be between a man and a woman.
It should be between two people who love each other. Regardless of gender.
Love knows no bounds.
Same-sex couples should have the same right to fall in love, get married, fight about everything and end up wanted a divorce a.s.a.p just as much as any man-woman couple.
Ewww. It's wrong. Sex is between a man and woman to create a baby because that's what nature intended.
Not every couple is in it for children. Sex is no longer for baby making, sex is between two people for their own desires. No one should say what's right or wrong to do with our bodies. They are our bodies. If you want sex with your same-sex partner, by all means, do! If sex was only allowed for making a baby, then no forms of contraceptive would be legal. Not many people will have only ever had sex for the baby it may create. 90% of sex is merely for the pleasure of both parties. No couple has only had sex each time they want a child and not for pleasure.
Love is a beautiful thing. It's just as beautiful between a homosexual couple as it is between a heterosexual couple.
I just wish society would share this view with me.
It's scary the way we're all becoming raging homophones.
Most of the time I feel like the only person who feels this way.
Just imagine if you were frowned upon for who you are.
Thanks (: I could write for ever on this subject but I'll leave it at this for the moment.
Sarah Michelle is very passionate when she believes in something.
Gay rights I have a lot to say on.
Let's get this straight, gay people are people too. I believe they are my equals. I treat them exactly the same as everyone else. I have no idea why the hell people are so dead set in believing homosexuality is bad.
The Bible says it's a sin? Oh fuck the bible. You know what else the bible says? It says women are not allowed to speak in churches, their place is to sit and listen, their words shall not be heard within a church. Now their are women who are the people who speak in churches and educate church-goers. It also states any women found to be be a non-virgin on their wedding night will be stoned to death on the door step of her fathers house by all the men in the town the following day. If that happened in this day and age it would be found to be disgusting and completely immoral.
There are many more that in this day and age would be considered utterly wrong.
So the Bible is against homosexuality? It's also against women having short hair cuts.
Adam and Eve not Adam and Steve?
Well, why don't over half of all females get stoned to death the day after their wedding night?
The bible is all for that too.
No one takes notice of all the now considered immoral shit in the bible but anything about homosexuality is analyzed beyond belief.
Oh, you don't like gay people? How about I stone you to death after your wedding night.
Okay, enough biblical shit.
What's up with people saying 'That's so gay' and using 'gay' as an insulting word?
Oh, but I want to stab people in the face when they say 'That's homo'.
I can restrain myself when it's gay but homo sets me off on a flying lecture rampage of verbal violence.
Since when did gay mean lame, stupid, dumb etc? It used to mean happy. Now it's so derogatory.
How come someones sexuality, which you don't actually choose, is also now an insult?
I may not be gay, but I'm offended when people use it as an insulting term.
Gay marriage?
I believe everyone has the right to marriage. Marriage shouldn't be between a man and a woman.
It should be between two people who love each other. Regardless of gender.
Love knows no bounds.
Same-sex couples should have the same right to fall in love, get married, fight about everything and end up wanted a divorce a.s.a.p just as much as any man-woman couple.
Ewww. It's wrong. Sex is between a man and woman to create a baby because that's what nature intended.
Not every couple is in it for children. Sex is no longer for baby making, sex is between two people for their own desires. No one should say what's right or wrong to do with our bodies. They are our bodies. If you want sex with your same-sex partner, by all means, do! If sex was only allowed for making a baby, then no forms of contraceptive would be legal. Not many people will have only ever had sex for the baby it may create. 90% of sex is merely for the pleasure of both parties. No couple has only had sex each time they want a child and not for pleasure.
Love is a beautiful thing. It's just as beautiful between a homosexual couple as it is between a heterosexual couple.
I just wish society would share this view with me.
It's scary the way we're all becoming raging homophones.
Most of the time I feel like the only person who feels this way.
Just imagine if you were frowned upon for who you are.
Thanks (: I could write for ever on this subject but I'll leave it at this for the moment.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Creepy baby rapists stalking me.
Today dad said I could take his car out for a spin if I walked the dog after. Fair deal I said and we shook on it.
I didn't crash dads car and returned home. Being a good girl, I held up my end of the deal and walked my dog. I walked to the corner shop and got candy to tempt little kids with. When I came up to the lights to cross the road. On the other side of the road there was someone with a pram with a baby in it. I could not tell the gender of the person.
Now I show with pictures.
Red cross is me. Green cross is creep with pram and blue dotty lines are the paths taken. I crossed the road, shown in the picture. Once over the road the genderless creep called out to me and waved. Since I had my earphones in I didn't hear their words, just mumble. Being polite, I smiled and waved back.
They crossed the road. Innocent enough. I mean, you gotta cross roads to get places. They called out again, again I just heard muffled noises. I walked slightly faster.
I got to the next set of lights I had to cross at. They were still behind me. I looked behind me and they were waiting to cross.
They crossed the road. At this point I realise they are most likely stalking me. I was fearing I'd be raped by some genderless creep and their baby.
I decided to find out if they were really following me, I went down a street that wouldn't be either of our regular paths. They followed me down it. I freaked out.
I walked around the side street in a big loop. They were definitely following me. I was going to die.
The purple in this next one is the route they took and the blue is the easiest route:
Clearly, if they wanted to get to the other point they would take the short, direct route, not fucked around following me.
They followed me right round and I freaked even more. The blue arrow represents 'RUN LIKE FUCK'.
I ran dangerously across the road and looked back. They were standing on the side of the road. Not crossing. Not moving, just standing. They waved. I waved back, being polite. They still stood there. I walked until they were out of my sight and I was out of theirs and safely got home with out them seeing where I lived.
No shit, I thought I was going to get raped and die. My dogs a pussy and would never defend me. I'm just so glad I got away from them. I have no idea who they are and why they followed me but I do know I want a rape whistle. My rape bells don't work that great.
I didn't crash dads car and returned home. Being a good girl, I held up my end of the deal and walked my dog. I walked to the corner shop and got candy to tempt little kids with. When I came up to the lights to cross the road. On the other side of the road there was someone with a pram with a baby in it. I could not tell the gender of the person.
Now I show with pictures.
Red cross is me. Green cross is creep with pram and blue dotty lines are the paths taken. I crossed the road, shown in the picture. Once over the road the genderless creep called out to me and waved. Since I had my earphones in I didn't hear their words, just mumble. Being polite, I smiled and waved back.
They crossed the road. Innocent enough. I mean, you gotta cross roads to get places. They called out again, again I just heard muffled noises. I walked slightly faster.
I got to the next set of lights I had to cross at. They were still behind me. I looked behind me and they were waiting to cross.
They crossed the road. At this point I realise they are most likely stalking me. I was fearing I'd be raped by some genderless creep and their baby.
I decided to find out if they were really following me, I went down a street that wouldn't be either of our regular paths. They followed me down it. I freaked out.
I walked around the side street in a big loop. They were definitely following me. I was going to die.
The purple in this next one is the route they took and the blue is the easiest route:
Clearly, if they wanted to get to the other point they would take the short, direct route, not fucked around following me.
They followed me right round and I freaked even more. The blue arrow represents 'RUN LIKE FUCK'.
I ran dangerously across the road and looked back. They were standing on the side of the road. Not crossing. Not moving, just standing. They waved. I waved back, being polite. They still stood there. I walked until they were out of my sight and I was out of theirs and safely got home with out them seeing where I lived.
No shit, I thought I was going to get raped and die. My dogs a pussy and would never defend me. I'm just so glad I got away from them. I have no idea who they are and why they followed me but I do know I want a rape whistle. My rape bells don't work that great.
The streets will never be safe again.
That paper gives me the right to terrorise the roads.
Last year, in October I believe, I passed my learners test. This gave me a license to drive with a fully licensed adult and learn to drive. This license had a picture. A brilliant picture might I add, one where I look like a severely pissed off hooker. The one who just missed out on a sale from an attractive young guy and now can't afford her daily dose of cocaine.
Sadly, I do not have it anymore.
Learning gave me many experiences. Right back at the beginning, first time I tried to drive up the driveway, I hit the fence. I was going 5km/h and only left a dent. Visually, it was only a little ding. Sadly, my amazing talent of fucking shit up came back to get me and it turns out I knocked the wheels out of alignment, fucked up an axle or something like that and damaged the cars internal computer. GO MICHELLE. $3600 worth of damages. Thank golly gosh for insurance otherwise I'd still be paying it off.
My mother has still not let this go. Even though I've conquered all sorts of stuff like parallel parking, hill starts and even BACKING up the driveway, she still freaks out whenever I drive with her in the car. It's annoying.
She always is on my dick, yelling at me when I mess up slightly. This does not help. While parking in a narrow spot, loud, abusive women are not appreciated. Yelling does not help, it makes it worse. Now I kick her out before parking.
I still stall occasionally. Once at the lights I stalled and missed the green light, and so did the impatient asshole behind me. He honked and used angry hand gestures. I hate assholes like him so next green light I move away slowly, stop and when the light goes orange I go around the corner, window down, middle finger out, feeling very proud. I purposely made that dick miss the second set of lights. Don't fuck with me, douche.
One time I was at the lights and stalled, missing the lights. Second set of lights, stall again, miss again. By this stage there is an 18 wheeler truck right up my ass, tailgating like all hell. Next set of lights, stall again, begin to break down because I think I suck. Truck practically touching my car. Mum tries to calm me while I complain about being a failure. Mum says calmly 'Knock it into neutral and then back to first' I do this, burst out laughing, see the green light and get through with no problem. I'd been trying to take off in third gear, which is impossible in mums car, but not dads as I learnt.
When cocky jaywalkers jump out infront of me, I speed up to scare them. I am reckless. It's fun to see them run from me when they realise I will plow them down.
I've always wanted to drive through a crowd and see who is smart enough to jump out of the way.
I went to my brothers school open night to pick him up. Parked in the school car park. Children everywhere. They never stop coming. I roll off slowly towards them, turning to direct myself out of the carpark. I had my intense face on that says 'I will run you mother fuckers down because I hate children'. They moved. I had some ninja side stepping along the fence to avoid my rage. I think I dinged one child. 100 POINTS ;D
Today was an exciting day. I've waited ages for this day. I get to go for my next license. I have to get up and ready before the time I'd be awake for school. I drive mum and dad over to the other side of town, throw mum out at work and drive all the way back over to the AA for my 9am driving exam.
The assessor comes over, he introduces himself and addresses me as Sarah. Anyone who knows me will know I only respond to Michelle or Sarah Michelle. I didn't want to correct him so I just adapted to responding to it. He introduces an oldish man wearing hardout rapist glasses. This creep is a trainee assessor. He gets to sit in the backseat and learn how to assess people.
We get in the car and I follow his directions. "Left here, Sarah" "Pull in here, Sarah"
By the end of it, I was only responding to Sarah. Michelle who?
I forgot sunglasses and it turned out to be the nicest day in ages. The sun was right in my eyes, blinding me. My eyes began to water and I was like to myself "I am going to go blind, crash and die" I am miss positivity.
20 minutes later we returned to the AA. He goes over with me where I went wrong and what I did well. He had his hand over my result. I was shaking and thinking "I failed. Oh shit. That's such a fail" He moved his hand to show a result of 88%. He pointed to it and said "This is what you want to see. Do you know what that means?" I was like "88 is bigger than 80 and you need 80 to pass so I passed?" He nodded and gave me a high 5. I got out of the car and went in with him while he filled out my temporary license. I left, grasping it in my hands, unlocked my car, tore down the L plates and had a party in my head.
Dad was off wandering. I found his and celebrated right after Facebook'ing and Tweeting my pass result.
Oh the joy of not having those L's.
Dad was like 'Do you like food?' I was like 'Duh' and then he ordered me to go to New World, where I work so he could buy food. I walk in there and get weird looks because it's school time and I should be in school.
We get food and go home.
School -_-
Home ;D
Daddy lets me drive his car for the first time ever. His accelerator is so touchy compared to mums.
Elliott comes over. I talk him into letting me drive his car. His accelerator is touchy too, but not as much as dads.
Although their indicators are wrong to me. Mums are on the left, every other car has them on the right. I wipe windscreens instead of indicate. I finish scarring people and here I am now.
I no longer need adult supervision while driving so road users, WATCH OUT.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Hair cuts and class with a little ass.
So I got a hair cut for the first time in like, years.
Then the next day was the formal.
At the formal I pretty much got labeled bisexual due to my friendly nature with females.
Grabbing boobs and ass is just how I roll. Even Elliott, my boyfriend, isn't too sure that I'm not bi.
Oh well, all good. Andog is joining us for a threesome. I love her.
My hair length before.
Aaaaand after.
Sexy webcam pictures with brother theeeeen....
Cherry red hair dye time ;D
Here it is all red and pretty.
Next day, formal day. I get to look pretty ;D
Here I am showing how amazing I can look in black and purple.
Sexiest photo of all for sure. I was laughing.
Here I am with my beautiful Andog.
Sexy as always. I have no shame.
I can't remember why I was being tolded off, but I was.
BOOB SHOT. Andog's boobs were just so gropeable.
There were no seats left so I sat on the floor. Everyone else was reluctant to join me.
They finally joined me and we got the looks because I eat with my fingers, got sauce everywhere and looked so informal.
I had a really fun night. I actually danced shamelessly. My feet were killing me but I just enjoyed myself and got frisky ;D I think I had my ass felt and boobs groped a couple of times. It doesn't bother me any more ;D
I was shattered afterward. I hope next year will be as fun.
Then the next day was the formal.
At the formal I pretty much got labeled bisexual due to my friendly nature with females.
Grabbing boobs and ass is just how I roll. Even Elliott, my boyfriend, isn't too sure that I'm not bi.
Oh well, all good. Andog is joining us for a threesome. I love her.
My hair length before.
Aaaaand after.
Sexy webcam pictures with brother theeeeen....
Cherry red hair dye time ;D
Here it is all red and pretty.
Next day, formal day. I get to look pretty ;D
Here I am showing how amazing I can look in black and purple.
Sexiest photo of all for sure. I was laughing.
Here I am with my beautiful Andog.
Sexy as always. I have no shame.
I can't remember why I was being tolded off, but I was.
BOOB SHOT. Andog's boobs were just so gropeable.
There were no seats left so I sat on the floor. Everyone else was reluctant to join me.
They finally joined me and we got the looks because I eat with my fingers, got sauce everywhere and looked so informal.
I had a really fun night. I actually danced shamelessly. My feet were killing me but I just enjoyed myself and got frisky ;D I think I had my ass felt and boobs groped a couple of times. It doesn't bother me any more ;D
I was shattered afterward. I hope next year will be as fun.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Photographic shit.
Every so often I do something artistic. That is amazing considering I can barely draw a stick figure.
Here is a photo of me actually just tripping over. It looks clever and well captured but seconds later I was rolling in sandy water.
Here is a photo I captured at 8.15am in my little city. I was 15 minutes early so I took a photo from where I was sitting, munching on a cookie.
I hated this child. He hated me too but this photo was an accident and looked motherfudging awesome.
I'm just colourful. I did this out of boredom. Aren't I just the brightest spark in this dull world?
I stuck my dog up a tree FOR ART PEOPLE, FOR ART. He couldn't get down and I laughed.
Look. I can fly. I'm a real bird.
My dog looks intelligent. I love swimming in the gross Avon river with my dog. I end up smelling bad but it's good fun.
I have more but I can't be bothered and most of them are complete and utter vanity shots.
Here is a photo of me actually just tripping over. It looks clever and well captured but seconds later I was rolling in sandy water.
Here is a photo I captured at 8.15am in my little city. I was 15 minutes early so I took a photo from where I was sitting, munching on a cookie.
I hated this child. He hated me too but this photo was an accident and looked motherfudging awesome.
I'm just colourful. I did this out of boredom. Aren't I just the brightest spark in this dull world?
I stuck my dog up a tree FOR ART PEOPLE, FOR ART. He couldn't get down and I laughed.
Look. I can fly. I'm a real bird.
My dog looks intelligent. I love swimming in the gross Avon river with my dog. I end up smelling bad but it's good fun.
I have more but I can't be bothered and most of them are complete and utter vanity shots.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Life is like a pick and mix, you pick and ya mix.
I shall compiled just a bunch load of shit from my life. Funny shit and other shit. Just pick and mix basically.
To start off, an old rhyme with shit added ;D
Sticks and stones may break my bones
but words will never hurt me.
Unless those words mess with my head
and make me wish that I was dead.
Then give me those sticks and stones.
I'd rather have the broken bones.
Today I had a chemistry exam and the only thing going on in my mind was Permanent December by Miley Cyrus.
It catchy but doesn't help me work out the mass of Silver Nitrate that will dissolve in 100ml of water at room temperature.
Yes Miley, you've been all around the world, yes Miley, they just aren't the same. Now Miley, tell me what sort of solid is Solid Z. Yes Miley, it is like a permanent December, yes Miley, it is colder than you remember and you wont let me go. Now Miley, molecular mass and empirical formula of antimony trioxide. Okay Miley. I'll leave the light on for you. Oh Miley, you've been to New York and LA? Did they have antimony trioxide there? You were wrong when you said you didn't need me? How sweet.
I did finish the exam and I think I did well. I understood it all. Antimony trioxide is Sb2O3 if you wanted to know.
Work. I have a job. Yes, someone employed me.
I'm a check-out chick. Oh the people you meet.
I have a Batman Band-Aid on my hand merely for decoration.
This guy came through my check-out and said
"What a cool Band-Aid!"
and to that I was all "I know! I'm not even hurt, I just wanted to wear the cool Band-Aid"
He was like "Some things are best left unsaid. At first I though 'Poor girl, got hurt, but HEY! She got a cool Band-Aid'. Now I'm thinking, 'Poor girl, she's lost her sanity'."
And he walked off. I felt told by a 50 something looking man.
I HAVE A BOOB SCAR.
Story of how I got it?
My cat likes to bury herself in the clothes in the wash bin in our bathroom. One time I stripped, got in the shower and a minute or so in my cat woke up, I hadn't realised she was hiding in there, she heard the water running and freaked out. She tried to climb out the bathroom window, but it was shut. She ended up getting stuck in the blinds. I sensed she needed help, being loving and all I jumped out of the shower, fully naked and dripping wet to go help her. SCREW TOWELS. I then learnt, cats hate water and nakedness. My naked body was covered in scratches and blood and my cat looked traumatized. And it scarred. Yeeeah.
Demon cat who hates naked and water!
Old guys hit on me. It's creepy.
Then there are the crazy bitches who want a motherfucking mop the only day we don't have motherfucking mops and has some super bitch freak out at me, as if it's my fault we don't have mop heads.
Sorry for a somewhat lame ass post. My mum's worried about my mental stability and I'm not in a good place at the moment. I'll try and be more creative. I'll go eat some shrooms or something, just to have some interesting shit to tell.
If I end up in a mental institution, I want you to know you've got to feed my cat. She'll die like my goldfish. Apparently food is important to goldfish. Who knew?
UPDATE: DUUUDE. Sucking on thumb tacks is a bad idea. I think I just got a tongue and cheek piercing. Goal: DON'T SWALLOW ANY! Ouch. The roof of my mouth just got stabbed.
To start off, an old rhyme with shit added ;D
Sticks and stones may break my bones
but words will never hurt me.
Unless those words mess with my head
and make me wish that I was dead.
Then give me those sticks and stones.
I'd rather have the broken bones.
Today I had a chemistry exam and the only thing going on in my mind was Permanent December by Miley Cyrus.
It catchy but doesn't help me work out the mass of Silver Nitrate that will dissolve in 100ml of water at room temperature.
Yes Miley, you've been all around the world, yes Miley, they just aren't the same. Now Miley, tell me what sort of solid is Solid Z. Yes Miley, it is like a permanent December, yes Miley, it is colder than you remember and you wont let me go. Now Miley, molecular mass and empirical formula of antimony trioxide. Okay Miley. I'll leave the light on for you. Oh Miley, you've been to New York and LA? Did they have antimony trioxide there? You were wrong when you said you didn't need me? How sweet.
I did finish the exam and I think I did well. I understood it all. Antimony trioxide is Sb2O3 if you wanted to know.
Work. I have a job. Yes, someone employed me.
I'm a check-out chick. Oh the people you meet.
I have a Batman Band-Aid on my hand merely for decoration.
This guy came through my check-out and said
"What a cool Band-Aid!"
and to that I was all "I know! I'm not even hurt, I just wanted to wear the cool Band-Aid"
He was like "Some things are best left unsaid. At first I though 'Poor girl, got hurt, but HEY! She got a cool Band-Aid'. Now I'm thinking, 'Poor girl, she's lost her sanity'."
And he walked off. I felt told by a 50 something looking man.
I HAVE A BOOB SCAR.
Story of how I got it?
My cat likes to bury herself in the clothes in the wash bin in our bathroom. One time I stripped, got in the shower and a minute or so in my cat woke up, I hadn't realised she was hiding in there, she heard the water running and freaked out. She tried to climb out the bathroom window, but it was shut. She ended up getting stuck in the blinds. I sensed she needed help, being loving and all I jumped out of the shower, fully naked and dripping wet to go help her. SCREW TOWELS. I then learnt, cats hate water and nakedness. My naked body was covered in scratches and blood and my cat looked traumatized. And it scarred. Yeeeah.
Demon cat who hates naked and water!
Old guys hit on me. It's creepy.
Then there are the crazy bitches who want a motherfucking mop the only day we don't have motherfucking mops and has some super bitch freak out at me, as if it's my fault we don't have mop heads.
Sorry for a somewhat lame ass post. My mum's worried about my mental stability and I'm not in a good place at the moment. I'll try and be more creative. I'll go eat some shrooms or something, just to have some interesting shit to tell.
If I end up in a mental institution, I want you to know you've got to feed my cat. She'll die like my goldfish. Apparently food is important to goldfish. Who knew?
UPDATE: DUUUDE. Sucking on thumb tacks is a bad idea. I think I just got a tongue and cheek piercing. Goal: DON'T SWALLOW ANY! Ouch. The roof of my mouth just got stabbed.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Why my mother thought I'd end up an alcoholic serial killer
To your left, observe cute little blonde me and big tubby monster teenage me.
Opposite as it may seem, but my mother was far more concerned about the mental health of little me than she ever will of teenage or adult me.
Little wee Sarah Michelle really concerned her mother. Mother was certain I was going to grow up, end up in jail after a string of murders I'd committed while battling a serious alcohol problem.
This all started as a pre-walker. Those darling walkers you stick babies in so even when they flail their legs like a retard, they still move the little UFO shaped thing. If you're confused: http://www.newbornbabyzone.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/05/baby-walker.jpg <- That thing.
Anyway. I was a drunk walker child. I drove that thing with my legs, while trying to back up to get a better angle to terrorize my grandparents while making dinner, I backed up too far and fell backwards down the door steps. This probably brain-damaged me.
Being a slow child, behind in everything (I mean everything. I was bald until I was 1) another concerning thing for my mother was my first word. Most babies say something cute like mummy or daddy or their siblings name, but not me. I was different. I observed my mother like a hawk, apparently. My parents are the sort to just say 'shit' casually. After many attempts to get me to say mummy or daddy and even animal names and such, they thought I was just set up to be retarded. At dinner, mum put my wee bowl of food up on my high chair and had her dinner on the table. She turned to feed me and knocked some food off her plate onto the floor and muttered 'Oh shit'. I was destined to be awesome, as soon as the food incident occured I picked up my bowl, tossed it over the edge, looked over casually at the mess I made, looked at my mothers disappointed stare, dead in the eyes and said 'Oh shit'. Mum knew this was only the beginning.
When I was two, it was summer and dad was drinking cold beer out on the deck. He opened a new bottle and put it down and went inside to pee. By the time he came back, I'd managed to drink the entire bottle of beer. As a two year old, I was very much a lightweight. I was one drunk ass baby, even stupider than usual. Clearly this was not good. Most babies can't even direct a glass bottle into their mouth. This sent alarm bells to my mother. Everytime daddy had beer, I knew what it was and wanted some. Alcohol became well hidden and consumed only when I was not in the room or anywhere near it. I wonder what my little baby hang over felt like...
At the age of 3, my parents decided they loved me enough and popped out the little brother I begged for. After inspecting the little smelly bundle or joy, I looked my mum dead in the eyes and said "I don't want it anymore. You can take it back" Clearly I was hard to please. Unless that screaming shit maker was bringing me beer, I didn't want him. Anyways. We ended up keeping him and I somewhat grew attached to it. I was either late 3's or early 4's when the next incident occurred. Mum doesn't remember my age, but that thing she didn't take back was between 8 and 11 months old. He was crying because I was playing with him and left him in a corner. I climbed up the bench, I was a climber; part monkey, and got the new can of fly spray. I was excited to find out what it was. I strutted back into the lounge where I'd left my victim, he was still in the corner, and I went right up to him and began to empty the can of fly spray into his face. Mum was used to crying, but she'd never heard battle cries like this and came running from the shower, in a towel. Realizing that her darling daughter was pretty much trying to murder her stinky son, she was freaked out. My brother was losing the ability to breathe and I lacked empathy. After a doctors visit, he was declared fine, just probably mentally scarred.
Mum says that all of my childhood, I showed no empathy. I lacked emotion towards other things and people, so much she was genuinely concerned. After the attempted murder, she was even more concerned for my future. Was I going to end up a serial killer with a drinking problem and a gutter mouth who can't back up a car?
A string of other events happened in my colourful childhood. I still make my mum wonder if I'm okay mentally, but I haven't killed anyone recently and bring home good school marks that show I will go great intelligent places in my life.
Right now, all that scares her is the fact I can drive and I'm bloody close to sitting my next driving exam. I mean, I'm not that bad, I only hit the fence once and it only cost $3600 to repair. Not that bad.
I have many more great experiences to have and many more chances to make my mother fear my existence.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Deep pee diving.
3.45AM, the overwhelming pressure in my bladder warns me 'Get yo ass out of this comfy ass bed and pee or risk waking up in your own urine' I roll out of bed and grab my phone to use as a light. Once at my peeing destination I place my phone where it usually sits, on a small window ledge. Once finished expelling urine from my bladder, I stand up, pull up my pants and grab my phone.
Photo to your left, Phoney and I bonding at the seaside park or a kiddie ride on thing
Okay. I didn't actually grab my phone. I kind of may have dragged it with my fingers, expecting to pick it up, but noooo, I flung it and it went straight into the urine and toilet paper filled toilet I hadn't flushed yet. I freak, throw myself on the ground and take my hand DeepPeeDiving for my baby phone, only realising afterward that I would end up covered in my own urine. Being smart and feeling sorry for my phone, I wash my hands and phone under tap water. I don't want a pee smelling phone.
The screening went a funny inverted colour but no matter how hard I smacked the buttons, I couldn't reply to a text.
I rip my baby apart and collapse to the floor with a towel, drying my darling. I remove the sim card, memory card, battery, everything. I shake him like a dog to get the water out and smack myself in the face. Genius. I rush him to the boiler cupboard and look frantically for rice, which I read a few days ago helps dry phones out if you place them in a place of dry rice. None. Just the only week we don't have rice.
I must have woken my brother because he's looking at me, confused and zombie like. Doesn't help I have no pants on and I'm wearing his hoodie. He offers me his phone to check if the sim card works and thank fucking god, it worked.
I sent my text and retreated to my room, where I sit like a crazed old lady, fearing for the life of my phone.
6.15AM I finally nod off. 9.30AM I wake up and run out to see if my baby has regained life. I stick the battery in and nothing except some crazy non-stop vibrating. This is not healthy. I look down in sadness. Is my baby going to make it? I mean he survived a lot. Stair throwing, falling 8 metres at the tender age of 2 weeks, to concrete. Playing bounce the phone. I torture phones.
Oh please, phone baby, pull through. My money in savings is to get a car, not replace some idiot DeepPeeDiver.
Oranges and rapists. Vitamin C and sperm.
Welcome to my first blog post. I sure hope you folk enjoy this.
Take time to read it please. I'll give you a cookie ;D
Late on a Wednesday night, wide awake as my brilliant mind told me drinking caffeinated energy drinks at 11.30PM was a grand idea, but instead it just left me wide eyed and twitchy.
I trolled Facebook trying to entertain myself and came across a status update about oranges. Immediately I craved an orange, which is odd because I'm not that much of an orange fan.
Remembering we have oranges in the fruit basket on the kitchen bench, I skip out there, skipping quietly past my parents bedroom.
Not bothering to turn on the light, I keep walking, arms flailing like a blind person. My hand slams into the side of the bench top with force and I have to suppress all the loud bad words.
I grab an orange and skip back to my room. I spend ages working out how to get it naked. I claw at the skin, almost giving up when it tears. I silently celebrate. Once I strip it of it's skin, I try to pull a segment out gently, but noooo, it tears and throws sticky manly orange juice at my laptop keyboard and screen. Like a smart person, I rub the juice in but that just makes it worse. I give up and just attack the orange with my teeth rabidly. I quickly discover my lips are chapped by the way the oranges acidity burns like a mofo. I reach for my chapstick and apply it liberally then return to murdering the devil fruit. Quickly I feel the pain again but I'm a real man and keep going and endure the pain until the orange is completely eaten. I use my sleeve to clean my face and laptop before reapplying the chapstick.
2 hours later, it's 2.15AM and I'm boredboredbored. Feeling rebellious, I put on some track pants and a hoodie, slip on a pair of flats and walk right out my front door. I walk to the end of my street, feeling brave. I turn down towards the river and stay on the side of the road which is well lit. Freaked out slightly but the idea of rapists, I walk swiftly, occasionally breaking into a run. Everytime a car approaches I hide and hope they don't stop and kidnap me. I cross the bridge and walk down a well lit side street. I realise the other side of the road is a park full of bushes. I hear a noise, look and see a bush move. I RUN LIKE FUCK AWAY FROM THERE. I decide the safest option is to walk down the alleyway leading to a well lit street instead of walking past the park again, all I need to do is walk down a small street. I brush past a flax bush, making it rustle and think there's a rapist. I RUN LIKE FUCK and make it to the street I was looking for. I walk with confidence, so the rapists will fear me. I murmur "Fuck you, motherfucking rapists don't motherfucking well rape me" in a very manly gangsta voice. It worked, no one jumped out of any bushes. I turn down a dark, scary looking 'hood' street as it's my way home. I chant my anti-rape chant a lot. It worked. I remain unraped. I put my hood up to make sure I look scary and manly. I walk past a tall fence, startling a dog who makes noise and I sprint faster than I've ever sprinted before. I make it home from my scary adventure and fall asleep pretty much instantly, dreaming of all the motherfucking rapists I scared with my manly chants.
I don't think I'll go rapist scaring again anytime soon. That shit's scary.
Take time to read it please. I'll give you a cookie ;D
Late on a Wednesday night, wide awake as my brilliant mind told me drinking caffeinated energy drinks at 11.30PM was a grand idea, but instead it just left me wide eyed and twitchy.
I trolled Facebook trying to entertain myself and came across a status update about oranges. Immediately I craved an orange, which is odd because I'm not that much of an orange fan.
Remembering we have oranges in the fruit basket on the kitchen bench, I skip out there, skipping quietly past my parents bedroom.
Not bothering to turn on the light, I keep walking, arms flailing like a blind person. My hand slams into the side of the bench top with force and I have to suppress all the loud bad words.
I grab an orange and skip back to my room. I spend ages working out how to get it naked. I claw at the skin, almost giving up when it tears. I silently celebrate. Once I strip it of it's skin, I try to pull a segment out gently, but noooo, it tears and throws sticky manly orange juice at my laptop keyboard and screen. Like a smart person, I rub the juice in but that just makes it worse. I give up and just attack the orange with my teeth rabidly. I quickly discover my lips are chapped by the way the oranges acidity burns like a mofo. I reach for my chapstick and apply it liberally then return to murdering the devil fruit. Quickly I feel the pain again but I'm a real man and keep going and endure the pain until the orange is completely eaten. I use my sleeve to clean my face and laptop before reapplying the chapstick.
2 hours later, it's 2.15AM and I'm boredboredbored. Feeling rebellious, I put on some track pants and a hoodie, slip on a pair of flats and walk right out my front door. I walk to the end of my street, feeling brave. I turn down towards the river and stay on the side of the road which is well lit. Freaked out slightly but the idea of rapists, I walk swiftly, occasionally breaking into a run. Everytime a car approaches I hide and hope they don't stop and kidnap me. I cross the bridge and walk down a well lit side street. I realise the other side of the road is a park full of bushes. I hear a noise, look and see a bush move. I RUN LIKE FUCK AWAY FROM THERE. I decide the safest option is to walk down the alleyway leading to a well lit street instead of walking past the park again, all I need to do is walk down a small street. I brush past a flax bush, making it rustle and think there's a rapist. I RUN LIKE FUCK and make it to the street I was looking for. I walk with confidence, so the rapists will fear me. I murmur "Fuck you, motherfucking rapists don't motherfucking well rape me" in a very manly gangsta voice. It worked, no one jumped out of any bushes. I turn down a dark, scary looking 'hood' street as it's my way home. I chant my anti-rape chant a lot. It worked. I remain unraped. I put my hood up to make sure I look scary and manly. I walk past a tall fence, startling a dog who makes noise and I sprint faster than I've ever sprinted before. I make it home from my scary adventure and fall asleep pretty much instantly, dreaming of all the motherfucking rapists I scared with my manly chants.
I don't think I'll go rapist scaring again anytime soon. That shit's scary.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)