"I miss who we were
In the town that we could call our own
Going back to get away
After everything has changed."
I just read over my blogs so far and something kinda struck me. I'm much better at writing about internal drama... emotional accidents and things... than physical things like my accident in Christchurch.
My grandma is over right now and of course we had to explain to her what had happened to me. I started trying to tell her but the more I talked, the less sense I made and the more the story I was telling disturbed me. Mum had to take over. I couldn't believe how much it bothered me to recount what happened. I guess that I had spent so long pretending that it hadn't happened that admitting to myself that it had was terrifying. I couldn't read the blog that I wrote about it here, either. I suppose this is what the phrase "scarred for life" really means. Not necessarily something you think about all the time, but something you try not to think about because it frightens you so much when you do.
After the accident, Dad said that he hoped that it wouldn't stop me being adventurous and fearless like I was before. I'm not sure whether it will or not... I might go back to the snow, but I am never going to Porter's Pass again.
The boy- ex-Shadowboy- is coming back to Auckland next Thursday. I can't wait to greet him at the airport with all of our friends! But the funny thing is that I feel so different. Once upon a time my heart would have LEAPED with hope and happiness and so on... now that he's just my friend, it's just a comfortable warmth, a passive feeling of rightness. I'm not used to a feeling like that. I suppose it's really good because it means that cutting my inappropriate ties to him has worked and healed. But I won't know how I really feel until I see him.
I was talking to a friend of mine- the one who betrayed me earlier- the other day and I started describing his writing style to him, how it wasn't like I expected. I had expected more mist and illusion and confusion, whereas his style was more solid and... meaty. Practical. No mystery, just straight storytelling. He said, "mist and illusion have nothing to do with telling a story". But I disagree. The way you write something has a HUGE impact on the experience of the reader.
This is a bit of a weird entry because I'm basically waiting until I have to leave for my English 121 exam, and filling up the time with writing. I have a feeling that the things I have said so far are all little seeds of future entries or lines of thought that will develop later into fully fledged rants. I just wanted to get them down before they sunk into the torpid swamp of writing an essay this afternoon.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Answer
"Think of me when you're out, when you're out there
I'll beg you nice, from my knees
And when the world treats you way too fairly
Well it's a shame I'm a dream
All I wanted was you..."
Today I lay on my bed and stared out the window as a cloud turned into a dragon, then to a dog, then to a mouse, and then disintegrated like candyfloss.
As I watched I was thinking:
"Why doesn't anybody think before they speak?"
"Am I not allowed to have a moment of weakness? A moment of insecurity?"
"Don't I deserve to have that insecurity vanquished?"
"Do I always have to be the strong one?"
"What do you do when your body and mind are fully rested, but your soul is exhausted?"
"Does anyone really know how I feel?"
"If not, then where do I go to get the answer?"
"In trying to stop beating myself up all the time, have I gone the opposite way? Do I now think I'm better- kinder, prettier, more fun, more patient, more thoughtful, more selfless- than I really am?"
"Why do I get so insecure?"
"What is wrong with me?!"
I'll beg you nice, from my knees
And when the world treats you way too fairly
Well it's a shame I'm a dream
All I wanted was you..."
Today I lay on my bed and stared out the window as a cloud turned into a dragon, then to a dog, then to a mouse, and then disintegrated like candyfloss.
As I watched I was thinking:
"Why doesn't anybody think before they speak?"
"Am I not allowed to have a moment of weakness? A moment of insecurity?"
"Don't I deserve to have that insecurity vanquished?"
"Do I always have to be the strong one?"
"What do you do when your body and mind are fully rested, but your soul is exhausted?"
"Does anyone really know how I feel?"
"If not, then where do I go to get the answer?"
"In trying to stop beating myself up all the time, have I gone the opposite way? Do I now think I'm better- kinder, prettier, more fun, more patient, more thoughtful, more selfless- than I really am?"
"Why do I get so insecure?"
"What is wrong with me?!"
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Chapter Six: Out
"So fill your head with what you think you understand.
My ears grow tired of listening to this constant recital
Lend yourself only when it suits
For this worthy cause, for this worthy cause
Feed the elevation that you so desperately, so desperately...
And in this voice of confidence
Too proud to admit flawed opinions
Bound to his verbal crusade
Preaching his infected position.
These tones will always deceive the unfamiliar
Still glorifying your misperception.
SO IN LOVE WITH THE SOUND OF YOUR OWN VOICE
And why? You would talk for eternity
The watcher runs
With the circles of his debate
And in the end, what's been achieved?"
It's definitely time to move out.
When you admit a huge weakness in your character; when you ask a small favour of your mother in order to help you overcome this weakness, and you are denied on the grounds that this person who is meant to love you and care for you is too lazy and busy to do this small thing for you... it's definitely time to move out.
When you come home late, exhausted from a stressful weekend worrying about and crying over your soulmate who has had to spend a night in hospital, and from nursing him back to health; when your father attacks you so personally that you break down in tears and sob so hard you cannot draw breath, and even then he has no pity for you; when your mother calls you selfish, thoughtless and immature, and then expects you to come over to the couch and make her feel like she hasn't done anything wrong... it's definitely time to move out.
When neither parent seems to understand how the weight of keeping peace in the family, the weight of all their countless fights, the weight of the negative emotion that they spread in any house that they live in; how that weight descends upon you and bears you down, crushes you to the floor while you try and lift it away from yourself... it's time. It's time. It is time.
From now, the money I earn from teaching is going towards that one goal. I will endure until I have enough. Then I will leave.
I've been procrastinating, inventing and imagining amazing situations where I could keep my beautiful new house with my window seat and evict my parents, evict that negative emotion. I haven't faced the fact that it will take sacrifices to escape this situation. I feel like I've grown up all of a sudden.
I have to get out of here.
My ears grow tired of listening to this constant recital
Lend yourself only when it suits
For this worthy cause, for this worthy cause
Feed the elevation that you so desperately, so desperately...
And in this voice of confidence
Too proud to admit flawed opinions
Bound to his verbal crusade
Preaching his infected position.
These tones will always deceive the unfamiliar
Still glorifying your misperception.
SO IN LOVE WITH THE SOUND OF YOUR OWN VOICE
And why? You would talk for eternity
The watcher runs
With the circles of his debate
And in the end, what's been achieved?"
It's definitely time to move out.
When you admit a huge weakness in your character; when you ask a small favour of your mother in order to help you overcome this weakness, and you are denied on the grounds that this person who is meant to love you and care for you is too lazy and busy to do this small thing for you... it's definitely time to move out.
When you come home late, exhausted from a stressful weekend worrying about and crying over your soulmate who has had to spend a night in hospital, and from nursing him back to health; when your father attacks you so personally that you break down in tears and sob so hard you cannot draw breath, and even then he has no pity for you; when your mother calls you selfish, thoughtless and immature, and then expects you to come over to the couch and make her feel like she hasn't done anything wrong... it's definitely time to move out.
When neither parent seems to understand how the weight of keeping peace in the family, the weight of all their countless fights, the weight of the negative emotion that they spread in any house that they live in; how that weight descends upon you and bears you down, crushes you to the floor while you try and lift it away from yourself... it's time. It's time. It is time.
From now, the money I earn from teaching is going towards that one goal. I will endure until I have enough. Then I will leave.
I've been procrastinating, inventing and imagining amazing situations where I could keep my beautiful new house with my window seat and evict my parents, evict that negative emotion. I haven't faced the fact that it will take sacrifices to escape this situation. I feel like I've grown up all of a sudden.
I have to get out of here.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Paranoia
"All wound up, on the edge, terrified
Sleep disturbed, restless mind, petrified
Bouts of fear permeate all I see
Heightening nervousness threatens me."
Thoughts from English 121...
! Do you ever get the feeling you're being stalked by everyone? Especially guys?
I know, I know, it's pathetic of me to think that everyone's in love with me and think that they all think I'm hot and all that but honestly, it's so annoying. Paranoia, paranoia, everybody's coming to get me. I really shouldn't complain because once there was a time when I was not looked at by ANYONE, I was all short and very chub and I hated it. I longed for people to think that I was hot and desirable. Thus does desire wound. Be careful what you wish for. Etc.
@ Also, my tutor is really strange looking. I can't decide whether I like him or not. I like him because he's awkward and funny and reminds me of a stork or a wading bird. I don't like him because he gave me a B grade for my narrative and he has a long pointy nose and told us about the love letter that one of the guys in one of his past tutorials wrote him. I wish I had this guy as my tutor, though really a few weeks ago I would have hated him because his name is Tim. But right now he's awesome because he's telling us about how he procrastinated by baking muffins.
# Apparently procrastination is in our DNA. We cannot escape. Brilliant...
$ Somehow in the past week or so I have managed to scramble together a 1800 word essay and a very tricky assignment (which was then copied by 2-3 people who had not even attempted it). I know it's not good for me to force this scramble on myself, because it makes me stress and burst into tears at the dinner table over my meatloaf, but it seems to be normal for uni students. Not the meatloaf, the scrambling. Now I want scrambled eggs. I still have one essay to go which is a redraft which should theoretically be easier than writing a whole essay, but somehow I worry that this is not true.
% All I really want to do is play Age of Empires and watch Grey's Anatomy and read other peoples' blogs. I'm really craving my four months of holidays where I can just chill out.
^ I can't believe next week is the last week of uni. The last week of my first year of University. Holy crap... in no time at all I will be a second year looking down on all the new first years, many of which I will personally already know. It seems to be rather final... this ending of the year. Once I start second year, there's no backing out. It's the middle year. The middle child. I'm excited but I'm also rather nervous. And right now I feel so jaded with uni that it's hard to think about next year's coursework.
& Oh God, a debate about why is it that we don't eat dog, with a really angry opinionated lady. Why is there always a crazily opinionated person in every lecture in every tutorial? You know, the person who always speaks out. Sadly I think that I am that person in my Linguistics tutorial. Now that phonetics is over I am getting back my ability to know the answer almost before I finish reading the question, which is comforting because it means that I can accurately and confidently answer three of the four sections of the exam.
* I'm really scared of the Anthropology exam. Come to think of it I'm pretty terrified that I'll fail my latest essay- the one I was scrambling with yesterday- because I got a C for my last one and I thought it was rather good. It pisses me off because it's only my general education class and it has caused me so much panic. Is there no class which is an easy win for gen ed? Shouldn't they all be easy? I just want a bum class that I can sail through, pleeeeeease...
( Hello, girl who went to Jared's primary who has subscribed to my blog. Your name is vaguely familiar to me but please don't be offended if we were actually in the same school once and I don't remember... I have a better memory for faces than names, and your face is vaguely familiar too. I really enjoy your blogs, they are a good way of procrastinating and sometimes really make me laugh. Not sure if that was your aim with them, but there it is.
) This whole post has only taken me half an hour. I like to sit in the last seat of the row because then I can hide my laptop screen from people behind me and they can't see that I'm not doing what I'm meant to be doing. HOLY CRAP DOCTOR WHO REFERENCE ON THE PROJECTOR SCREEN! My God, I love this Tim guy. I just wish his name wasn't Tim. Girls do have Adam's apples but they don't stick out. Kieran isn't coming for his singing lesson dammit so I don't get Grey's season 2 or $30. I'm cooking chicken stirfry tonight for dinner. I'm going to start my English essay tonight, but I might not because Jared will be there. Procrastination, procrastination...
Sleep disturbed, restless mind, petrified
Bouts of fear permeate all I see
Heightening nervousness threatens me."
Thoughts from English 121...
! Do you ever get the feeling you're being stalked by everyone? Especially guys?
I know, I know, it's pathetic of me to think that everyone's in love with me and think that they all think I'm hot and all that but honestly, it's so annoying. Paranoia, paranoia, everybody's coming to get me. I really shouldn't complain because once there was a time when I was not looked at by ANYONE, I was all short and very chub and I hated it. I longed for people to think that I was hot and desirable. Thus does desire wound. Be careful what you wish for. Etc.
@ Also, my tutor is really strange looking. I can't decide whether I like him or not. I like him because he's awkward and funny and reminds me of a stork or a wading bird. I don't like him because he gave me a B grade for my narrative and he has a long pointy nose and told us about the love letter that one of the guys in one of his past tutorials wrote him. I wish I had this guy as my tutor, though really a few weeks ago I would have hated him because his name is Tim. But right now he's awesome because he's telling us about how he procrastinated by baking muffins.
# Apparently procrastination is in our DNA. We cannot escape. Brilliant...
$ Somehow in the past week or so I have managed to scramble together a 1800 word essay and a very tricky assignment (which was then copied by 2-3 people who had not even attempted it). I know it's not good for me to force this scramble on myself, because it makes me stress and burst into tears at the dinner table over my meatloaf, but it seems to be normal for uni students. Not the meatloaf, the scrambling. Now I want scrambled eggs. I still have one essay to go which is a redraft which should theoretically be easier than writing a whole essay, but somehow I worry that this is not true.
% All I really want to do is play Age of Empires and watch Grey's Anatomy and read other peoples' blogs. I'm really craving my four months of holidays where I can just chill out.
^ I can't believe next week is the last week of uni. The last week of my first year of University. Holy crap... in no time at all I will be a second year looking down on all the new first years, many of which I will personally already know. It seems to be rather final... this ending of the year. Once I start second year, there's no backing out. It's the middle year. The middle child. I'm excited but I'm also rather nervous. And right now I feel so jaded with uni that it's hard to think about next year's coursework.
& Oh God, a debate about why is it that we don't eat dog, with a really angry opinionated lady. Why is there always a crazily opinionated person in every lecture in every tutorial? You know, the person who always speaks out. Sadly I think that I am that person in my Linguistics tutorial. Now that phonetics is over I am getting back my ability to know the answer almost before I finish reading the question, which is comforting because it means that I can accurately and confidently answer three of the four sections of the exam.
* I'm really scared of the Anthropology exam. Come to think of it I'm pretty terrified that I'll fail my latest essay- the one I was scrambling with yesterday- because I got a C for my last one and I thought it was rather good. It pisses me off because it's only my general education class and it has caused me so much panic. Is there no class which is an easy win for gen ed? Shouldn't they all be easy? I just want a bum class that I can sail through, pleeeeeease...
( Hello, girl who went to Jared's primary who has subscribed to my blog. Your name is vaguely familiar to me but please don't be offended if we were actually in the same school once and I don't remember... I have a better memory for faces than names, and your face is vaguely familiar too. I really enjoy your blogs, they are a good way of procrastinating and sometimes really make me laugh. Not sure if that was your aim with them, but there it is.
) This whole post has only taken me half an hour. I like to sit in the last seat of the row because then I can hide my laptop screen from people behind me and they can't see that I'm not doing what I'm meant to be doing. HOLY CRAP DOCTOR WHO REFERENCE ON THE PROJECTOR SCREEN! My God, I love this Tim guy. I just wish his name wasn't Tim. Girls do have Adam's apples but they don't stick out. Kieran isn't coming for his singing lesson dammit so I don't get Grey's season 2 or $30. I'm cooking chicken stirfry tonight for dinner. I'm going to start my English essay tonight, but I might not because Jared will be there. Procrastination, procrastination...
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Resolve
"Feed my head with some real thoughts
And let me think instead of being taught
I'll say things you won't believe
Just stand back, just let me breathe."
So in the end I got sick of it all and texted the silly fool, and to cut a long story short we are now back to normal.
But now I don't know if I'm as happy as I was before, because Jared said "why do you have to be friends with him again? You've seemed so much happier in the past few weeks."
Have I really? Was I really happier without? Or is my boyfriend just saying things to try and get my friend boy who he detests out of my life? I could never believe for a second that Jared would tell me a lie or even a half-truth. God only knows.
Why can't I have everything? Why can't everyone just be happy?
Things that are annoying me right now:
Answering the phone.
Having to try and be on a diet-ish thing where I'm supposed to be eating healthily but really just wanting to say screw it and snuggle down and eat a king size block of chocolate.
The way that my parents, especially my mother, makes me feel guilty for eating anything at all, but especially when I eat a whole family bag of chips because I'm supposed to ask her permission before I can have any at all. I mean what the fuck. I'm not five years old anymore. This is my house too, except she doesn't seem to think so. We had a fight about me keeping my room tidy and she was like "this is only your house as long as we allow you to stay in it." How inappropriate is it to threaten to kick me out of the house for not tidying my room or for eating a bag of chips? That's like that lady on SVU last night who sent that teenager to prison for urinating on someone's fence. Except she got arrested, and my mum is still laughing too loudly on the phone and coughing in a really dramatic manner that makes me want to strangle her.
The way my dad looks around at me with his eyebrows raised when mum asks me to apologise for something she should have the sense not to take personally, and then he wiggles them and looks at me like I'm stupid. I think it's nearly time to leave home.
How I want to leave home but we just moved into a nice new house which I love, so I don't want to leave. I'd rather evict my parents. I wish I owned this place.
How there are "twi-hards" and "twi-haters". Those are not even clever names. If you're going to go overboard then at least have some imagination and intelligence for God's sake.
This constant pressure that I feel to act like an adult, or at least not to act like a teenager. I have never acted like a teenager. I never thought I'd care, but I do. I just want to complain about stupid stuff! Not have to think about big world issues and be a normal person!
How whenever I feel morose people say "but you should be happy". I am happy. Honest.
And let me think instead of being taught
I'll say things you won't believe
Just stand back, just let me breathe."
So in the end I got sick of it all and texted the silly fool, and to cut a long story short we are now back to normal.
But now I don't know if I'm as happy as I was before, because Jared said "why do you have to be friends with him again? You've seemed so much happier in the past few weeks."
Have I really? Was I really happier without? Or is my boyfriend just saying things to try and get my friend boy who he detests out of my life? I could never believe for a second that Jared would tell me a lie or even a half-truth. God only knows.
Why can't I have everything? Why can't everyone just be happy?
Things that are annoying me right now:
Answering the phone.
Having to try and be on a diet-ish thing where I'm supposed to be eating healthily but really just wanting to say screw it and snuggle down and eat a king size block of chocolate.
The way that my parents, especially my mother, makes me feel guilty for eating anything at all, but especially when I eat a whole family bag of chips because I'm supposed to ask her permission before I can have any at all. I mean what the fuck. I'm not five years old anymore. This is my house too, except she doesn't seem to think so. We had a fight about me keeping my room tidy and she was like "this is only your house as long as we allow you to stay in it." How inappropriate is it to threaten to kick me out of the house for not tidying my room or for eating a bag of chips? That's like that lady on SVU last night who sent that teenager to prison for urinating on someone's fence. Except she got arrested, and my mum is still laughing too loudly on the phone and coughing in a really dramatic manner that makes me want to strangle her.
The way my dad looks around at me with his eyebrows raised when mum asks me to apologise for something she should have the sense not to take personally, and then he wiggles them and looks at me like I'm stupid. I think it's nearly time to leave home.
How I want to leave home but we just moved into a nice new house which I love, so I don't want to leave. I'd rather evict my parents. I wish I owned this place.
How there are "twi-hards" and "twi-haters". Those are not even clever names. If you're going to go overboard then at least have some imagination and intelligence for God's sake.
This constant pressure that I feel to act like an adult, or at least not to act like a teenager. I have never acted like a teenager. I never thought I'd care, but I do. I just want to complain about stupid stuff! Not have to think about big world issues and be a normal person!
How whenever I feel morose people say "but you should be happy". I am happy. Honest.
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