"Don't tell me what's in
Tell me how to write
Don't tell me how to win this fight
Isn't your life
It isn't your right to take the only thing that's mine."
I never thought I could hate someone... I mean, really hate. But I'm beginning to hate you. It's scary because we were once best friends... and now I really mostly can't stand you. Maybe because you cheated on one of my other friends... but if I'm honest with myself, the real reason is because, strictly speaking, you have always been better than me.
If I'm even more honest with myself, however, I can see that I don't truly believe that. I feel I am better than you. It's just that you're so high and mighty. Everyone has always told you that you are the best, and you believe it. You've been told you are the best musician, the best writer, the smartest person; you've always had high grades in every exam- be it music, english, science, anything. You obviously must be prettier than others, or you wouldn't have had most of the boys in our year after you. Every single person who meets you loves you, so you must be a better person than anyone else. You had everyone trailing after you in high school. Every experience of your young life so far has perpetuated the implication that you are the most wonderful human being in the world.
I just wish everyone could see how fake and terrible you are. You whine about your life as if it isn't good enough for you. You cheat on people, you're blunt and insensitive, you lord it over everyone, you flaunt your success to make other people feel bad. Like I said, I never thought I could hate anyone... but you've managed to tip me over the edge.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Monday, June 28, 2010
Obsession
"And in the dark
I can hear your heartbeat
I try to find the sun
But then, it starts
I'm always in the darkness
Of darkness I'd be King..."
Ohhh no. Please tell me this isn't happening. Not again. I thought I was past this stage?
It all started with a man called Jason Kay, from the band Jamiroquai. I was so scarily obsessed with him I even used to say goodnight to a little picture of him in my wallet (Deanna can attest to that. I'm sure she'd love to). The next big one was a little something called Phantom of the Opera. Now that one wasn't too bad because it was a whole thing, not just one person that I was fixated on. But that screwed me up enough because it was so dark and depressing. After that there were a few minor flutters into the land of the insane before I hit on Doctor Who, namely a certain actor called David Tennant. Now I was a bit older, so this wasn't as scary as the Jay Kay one but still... huge giant folders of images in My Documents, box sets of dvds... and after the final of the second season when the Doctor and his female opposite character Rose were parted forever, it took me three days to get over the sadness completely. I cried myself to sleep that night, it was such a sad episode. Even after the obsession itself was over and I finally saw David Tennant as a man and an actor, and not the character of the Doctor who I'd fallen in love with; when David Tennant was replaced as the Docter by this other baby-faced young guy, I scoffed and insulted him for being unoriginal and generally just not as good.
But now... I just watched this episode with the new guy, Matt Smith, and there was this one scene... and the same old feeling started coming back to me.
It always starts with something touching, with a character showing some vulnerability or tenderness. This fluttering feeling starts in my chest, just like the beginnings of a crush on some real normal person. At the time I just go "awww, that was so sweet..." and I might rewind it if I can to watch the scene again (which I did). But later on I'll find that I can't stop thinking about it, and then I'll find that I feel sort of... wistful and lonely, and still caught up in the story. Wishing that it was real and that I was in it. And that is how my obsessions start.
I blame my imagination. I am so good at putting myself in the shoes of the female opposite character that it affects me somehow. Admittedly this is a skill on the part of the scriptwriters and actors and directors too, but I have always been good at imagining, ever since I was a little girl. And it mucks with my brain. And I thought I'd grown out of it. It hasn't come back to attack me since I met Jared. And yet! HERE IT IS AGAIN. And I don't want it.
I can hear your heartbeat
I try to find the sun
But then, it starts
I'm always in the darkness
Of darkness I'd be King..."
Ohhh no. Please tell me this isn't happening. Not again. I thought I was past this stage?
It all started with a man called Jason Kay, from the band Jamiroquai. I was so scarily obsessed with him I even used to say goodnight to a little picture of him in my wallet (Deanna can attest to that. I'm sure she'd love to). The next big one was a little something called Phantom of the Opera. Now that one wasn't too bad because it was a whole thing, not just one person that I was fixated on. But that screwed me up enough because it was so dark and depressing. After that there were a few minor flutters into the land of the insane before I hit on Doctor Who, namely a certain actor called David Tennant. Now I was a bit older, so this wasn't as scary as the Jay Kay one but still... huge giant folders of images in My Documents, box sets of dvds... and after the final of the second season when the Doctor and his female opposite character Rose were parted forever, it took me three days to get over the sadness completely. I cried myself to sleep that night, it was such a sad episode. Even after the obsession itself was over and I finally saw David Tennant as a man and an actor, and not the character of the Doctor who I'd fallen in love with; when David Tennant was replaced as the Docter by this other baby-faced young guy, I scoffed and insulted him for being unoriginal and generally just not as good.
But now... I just watched this episode with the new guy, Matt Smith, and there was this one scene... and the same old feeling started coming back to me.
It always starts with something touching, with a character showing some vulnerability or tenderness. This fluttering feeling starts in my chest, just like the beginnings of a crush on some real normal person. At the time I just go "awww, that was so sweet..." and I might rewind it if I can to watch the scene again (which I did). But later on I'll find that I can't stop thinking about it, and then I'll find that I feel sort of... wistful and lonely, and still caught up in the story. Wishing that it was real and that I was in it. And that is how my obsessions start.
I blame my imagination. I am so good at putting myself in the shoes of the female opposite character that it affects me somehow. Admittedly this is a skill on the part of the scriptwriters and actors and directors too, but I have always been good at imagining, ever since I was a little girl. And it mucks with my brain. And I thought I'd grown out of it. It hasn't come back to attack me since I met Jared. And yet! HERE IT IS AGAIN. And I don't want it.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Shellfish
"You only think about yourself
You only think about yourself
You better bend before I go
On the first train to Mexico..."
So it’s been exam time. And at this time more than any of the University cycle, it seems people are very much “for” themselves. I’m sitting in Info Commons right now, and behind me are two computer niches which were being “reserved” with bags. Not only is this not actually allowed, it’s blatantly inconsiderate... and it’s not allowed BECAUSE it’s blatantly inconsiderate.
I sat down at my computer about 20 minutes ago, and in that whole time nobody came to claim the bags left on the desks. An Indian girl just came up to me looking harassed and worried, and asked me if anyone was sitting there. I told her I hadn’t seen anyone around there for quite a while, and we had a little rant-party about people who leave their belongings at a computer desk and go get food (among other things) when it’s exam time and so many people are waiting for a computer. Now I’m her witness for if the person comes back and gets pissed off.
I mean, I’m not that much better- look at me, it’s exam time and I’m sitting here writing on a blog when there’s probably someone desperate for a computer to research some obscure essay topic... but at least I do what I want to do as fast as I can, and I don’t leave my stuff and walk away any further than to a printer. Some people actually do “reserve” a computer and then go buy food, have lunch and come back expecting that they can just sit down and go on their facebook. The number of worried faces I can see pacing back and forth in this room! What can those people be thinking? Don’t they feel bad about it? At the very least they should be worried about someone making off with their stuff. If you wait long enough, especially with the apathetic society that we have going on at Auckland Uni, nobody is going to be bothered or be sure enough of themselves to stop a stranger making off with your stuff. They’re just going to think that stranger is you.
And I don’t mean to be judgemental or racist, but a lot of the time the bags left are those fancy Gucci/Guess or some imitation of the above type... and the books left are written in some Asian language... and you just KNOW they’re going to belong to some stick-thin fashion-obsessed chick... likely to be Chinese/Japanese/Korean. And I have actually seen this in person, I’m not just assuming. Is it a cultural thing? Is it because of the attitude of the countries that these people have come from? I have so so many Chinese or Korean friends and they are the nicest people ever, but most of them have been in N.Z. quite a while... most of their lives, usually. Are Kiwis just more self-sacrificing than other nationalities? Or are Asians just more self-centered?
Oh dear, this is sounding racist. But I’m not meaning to judge... I’m just making observations.
It has now been over half an hour since I first sat down here, and still the owners of the bags have not returned. Who do they think they are?!
You only think about yourself
You better bend before I go
On the first train to Mexico..."
So it’s been exam time. And at this time more than any of the University cycle, it seems people are very much “for” themselves. I’m sitting in Info Commons right now, and behind me are two computer niches which were being “reserved” with bags. Not only is this not actually allowed, it’s blatantly inconsiderate... and it’s not allowed BECAUSE it’s blatantly inconsiderate.
I sat down at my computer about 20 minutes ago, and in that whole time nobody came to claim the bags left on the desks. An Indian girl just came up to me looking harassed and worried, and asked me if anyone was sitting there. I told her I hadn’t seen anyone around there for quite a while, and we had a little rant-party about people who leave their belongings at a computer desk and go get food (among other things) when it’s exam time and so many people are waiting for a computer. Now I’m her witness for if the person comes back and gets pissed off.
I mean, I’m not that much better- look at me, it’s exam time and I’m sitting here writing on a blog when there’s probably someone desperate for a computer to research some obscure essay topic... but at least I do what I want to do as fast as I can, and I don’t leave my stuff and walk away any further than to a printer. Some people actually do “reserve” a computer and then go buy food, have lunch and come back expecting that they can just sit down and go on their facebook. The number of worried faces I can see pacing back and forth in this room! What can those people be thinking? Don’t they feel bad about it? At the very least they should be worried about someone making off with their stuff. If you wait long enough, especially with the apathetic society that we have going on at Auckland Uni, nobody is going to be bothered or be sure enough of themselves to stop a stranger making off with your stuff. They’re just going to think that stranger is you.
And I don’t mean to be judgemental or racist, but a lot of the time the bags left are those fancy Gucci/Guess or some imitation of the above type... and the books left are written in some Asian language... and you just KNOW they’re going to belong to some stick-thin fashion-obsessed chick... likely to be Chinese/Japanese/Korean. And I have actually seen this in person, I’m not just assuming. Is it a cultural thing? Is it because of the attitude of the countries that these people have come from? I have so so many Chinese or Korean friends and they are the nicest people ever, but most of them have been in N.Z. quite a while... most of their lives, usually. Are Kiwis just more self-sacrificing than other nationalities? Or are Asians just more self-centered?
Oh dear, this is sounding racist. But I’m not meaning to judge... I’m just making observations.
It has now been over half an hour since I first sat down here, and still the owners of the bags have not returned. Who do they think they are?!
Monday, May 24, 2010
Fail-vacuum
"I have this breath and I'll hold it tight
And keep it in my chest with all my might!"
I never thought I could feel sympathy for a vacuum cleaner after having to lug one up and down the stairs for countless years of my life, but it seems that all things do, in time, change.
I had been sucking up some bits with Jared's mum's smaller vacuum cleaner- which we have, uh, acquired- and went to put it away. I don't think the neck for that thing had been disconnected for MONTHS because there was a thick wad of dust and thread stuck in the connecting area of the two bits of pipe that make up the neck. So I sucked that up too and it suddenly dawned on me to check the bag as well. And it was FULL. Like, not just full full, but full to BURSTING. It was so fat and heavy that it felt like a medium-sized cat when I picked it up. I looked at the filter too and it was so clogged with dust that I'm surprised the cleaner was working as well as it was. From my mouth, completely involuntarily, sprang the words "poor, poor vacuum cleaner!" in a soothing voice; not that it's odd for me to speak to inanimate objects, especially electrical ones, but I had never felt so sorry for one in my life.
I changed the bag and the filter and found all the little components that go in the top compartment, making the cleaner complete again. And then I named it Max (because I always turn it up to max when I'm using it). And now I'm glad to say Max is feeling much better.
I tend to name any appliance that I use often or am particularly attached to. The first one was Fred, the P.A. system I used to use as part of Finn's band. Then there was Felix, my first slightly owned laptop who couldn't unplug and had 20 GB of memory. After him came Toshie, my new Toshiba laptop. My Scarlet Lily plant that I keep in the bathroom is called Theo. I named the toaster Buzz because he has an odd habit of buzzing when you put bread in the left side. My iPods have all been named after songs of my favourite artists: my first 1GB nano, Little L (Jamiroquai), my second 8GB nano Octavarium (Dream Theater), also known as Octy, and my current 160GB classic Stellar (Incubus). I named Jared's 6-string Washburn bass guitar Washy, and thankfully my brother has bought him off Jared, because I got quite attached to him. The brand name of the back fridge is Kelvinator- I mean, who could resist calling that by its name?! And the list goes on... I can't wait till I get my new keyboard, my Korg Triton TR-76, so I can name that too!
And keep it in my chest with all my might!"
I never thought I could feel sympathy for a vacuum cleaner after having to lug one up and down the stairs for countless years of my life, but it seems that all things do, in time, change.
I had been sucking up some bits with Jared's mum's smaller vacuum cleaner- which we have, uh, acquired- and went to put it away. I don't think the neck for that thing had been disconnected for MONTHS because there was a thick wad of dust and thread stuck in the connecting area of the two bits of pipe that make up the neck. So I sucked that up too and it suddenly dawned on me to check the bag as well. And it was FULL. Like, not just full full, but full to BURSTING. It was so fat and heavy that it felt like a medium-sized cat when I picked it up. I looked at the filter too and it was so clogged with dust that I'm surprised the cleaner was working as well as it was. From my mouth, completely involuntarily, sprang the words "poor, poor vacuum cleaner!" in a soothing voice; not that it's odd for me to speak to inanimate objects, especially electrical ones, but I had never felt so sorry for one in my life.
I changed the bag and the filter and found all the little components that go in the top compartment, making the cleaner complete again. And then I named it Max (because I always turn it up to max when I'm using it). And now I'm glad to say Max is feeling much better.
I tend to name any appliance that I use often or am particularly attached to. The first one was Fred, the P.A. system I used to use as part of Finn's band. Then there was Felix, my first slightly owned laptop who couldn't unplug and had 20 GB of memory. After him came Toshie, my new Toshiba laptop. My Scarlet Lily plant that I keep in the bathroom is called Theo. I named the toaster Buzz because he has an odd habit of buzzing when you put bread in the left side. My iPods have all been named after songs of my favourite artists: my first 1GB nano, Little L (Jamiroquai), my second 8GB nano Octavarium (Dream Theater), also known as Octy, and my current 160GB classic Stellar (Incubus). I named Jared's 6-string Washburn bass guitar Washy, and thankfully my brother has bought him off Jared, because I got quite attached to him. The brand name of the back fridge is Kelvinator- I mean, who could resist calling that by its name?! And the list goes on... I can't wait till I get my new keyboard, my Korg Triton TR-76, so I can name that too!
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Pressurecooker
"Procrastination paralysing me
Wanting me dead..."
I hate my inability to work without time-pressure. It started creeping up on me in 6th form and now, through the encouragement and example of pretty much everyone at Uni, it has morphed into its final form.
Whatever happened to the little girl in primary school who used to panic and crack under pressure, who used to have mental breakdowns and freak out? I even remember discussing it with mum, at the age of maybe 8 or 9. I said to her, "I don't work well under pressure, do I?"
Now... I don't know if it's because of the many other things around me to distract me from schoolwork, or the fact that I am no longer afraid of my mother catching me slacking off, or just the general sense of student apathy that permeates every aspect of University, but I am currently sitting at my laptop Toshie, staring at an essay question about Alice in Wonderland which I must write 1800 words on in the next 2 and a half days... of which there are really only about five hours of free time to write the thing. I know that if I was five straight hours out from the time that it's due, I'd be working frantically and productively and probably doing quite well. But because I have all those days inbetween now and then... I just can't do it...
Wanting me dead..."
I hate my inability to work without time-pressure. It started creeping up on me in 6th form and now, through the encouragement and example of pretty much everyone at Uni, it has morphed into its final form.
Whatever happened to the little girl in primary school who used to panic and crack under pressure, who used to have mental breakdowns and freak out? I even remember discussing it with mum, at the age of maybe 8 or 9. I said to her, "I don't work well under pressure, do I?"
Now... I don't know if it's because of the many other things around me to distract me from schoolwork, or the fact that I am no longer afraid of my mother catching me slacking off, or just the general sense of student apathy that permeates every aspect of University, but I am currently sitting at my laptop Toshie, staring at an essay question about Alice in Wonderland which I must write 1800 words on in the next 2 and a half days... of which there are really only about five hours of free time to write the thing. I know that if I was five straight hours out from the time that it's due, I'd be working frantically and productively and probably doing quite well. But because I have all those days inbetween now and then... I just can't do it...
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Townvirgin
"Take your time
To trust in me
And you will find...
The time goes by
So naturally
While you receive
Infinity."
I turned 18 last August and I actually hadn't yet gone out to town on a friday night. While this may seem abnormal, it's mostly because I'm, well, lazy. I could have tried to organise something and get a group together. But for one, as already mentioned, I'm lazy... and for two, I felt embarrassed to text people saying "I've never been to town before, can someone chaperon me?"
So anyway, last night me, Jared and most of the Tree: Tam, Greg, Ryan, Brooke, Josh Black, Dudley, Hanan, Saad and Julia (though the last two left early before we really got into many clubs) all met at Father Ted's to celebrate Brooke's impending birthday on Sunday. Wow, that's actually quite a large group, I hadn't realised... The night started off pretty low-key. Father Ted's was cool, there were these two guys playing guitars in the little band corner who did a cover of Hit Me Baby One More Time which was hilarious as our whole table was singing along word-perfect, especially Brooke and Tam who had both already had a few drinks haha. Saad and Tam disappeared to eat some Wendy's and were away quite a while, so we decided we should go look for them in case Wendy's had eaten them instead. Once we'd rescued them from the black hole of Wendy's we all trotted off down Queen St towards Cassette, which was amusing when we met Callum because he was handing out advertisements for the place. Cassette was PACKED- like, no place to sit at all, so we left in search of a place that was kicking but not so squished. At least, that's why I think we left haha. We walked up to Crow Bar but that was practically empty, so we waited with Julia till she got picked up (she had an early morning the next day) and then wandered off to this place Tam thought of called the Carpark. When we EVENTUALLY got there (Saad decided to go home because he hadn't slept in two days apparently, so Tam walked him to his car and Dudley led us off on a circuitous route to the place) it was actually really good. I'd had a large beer by that point and finished off two feijoa vodka + lemonades at the Carpark and then we cracked into some dancing. It was awesome at first, the DJ was playing old awesome rock hits with a dance beat underneath so it was like singing/screaming mania, but then he started going back to the gangsta stuff... and not the kind of gangsta stuff that I like. Jared was worried about his ears because the place was SO LOUD... and well, his ears are his livelihood. Also he wasn't drinking because he was on antibiotics, so that made the whole night a bit flat for him. We hung out outside for a bit and then everyone else joined us and we set off for Lenin on the Viaduct, but got told we were too casual. Snobs! We decide to go to Magarita's despite Dudley's misgivings about the place being full of underage girls. It was pretty good though once again the music was so loud as to be painful- I was slightly drunk by then though so it didn't bother me too much, but I think it gave Jared quite a headache. It was $5 drinks there too and I managed to get a bartender to make me a Pina Colada for $5 so I was pretty pleased. Then we really got into the dancing.
It's weird with club music... I've noticed that out of every 20 songs that are used in clubs, thesedays I only really like about 5 or 6 of them, compared with say 7 or 8 in 7th form and about 10 in 6th form. Music really is just going downhill! But of course, I danced anyway. I love dancing. The thing is that I don't dance with people, even if people are there... it's more like I'm dancing with the music. And this brings me to a rather annoying point of the night.
Brooke has always had this strange thing with me, it's like a mixture of mother hen and... like... dominant female? I don't know. But on the way up Queen St she kept prodding and stroking me on the arm and I told her to stop, so she bit me. This in itself is not as rare or strange as you might think, for Brooke. She is always threatening to bite people, she's just... Brooke. But it really actually hurt. I kind of wanted to hit her or shout at her. She's always joking around, like flirting with me in a way, and it just makes me feel uncomfortable. She was dancing close to me in Margie's and trying to get me to do that dance move, you know, the one where girls crouch down low to the ground and then come back up again, with her. I'm scared that one day she will do that thing that many girls seem to do in clubs, lose it and try to kiss me or something, and I just could not handle that. I'm heterosexual, people! Completely and utterly! And besides, kissing or flirting with ANYONE, boy or girl, when you're taken is cheating. And she should know that I think that way. Anyway, I think (hope) that most of the reason she behaves that way around me is that she knows it makes me feel uncomfortable and she finds it funny and just wants to wind me up. And was also a bit drunk.
Aaaaanyway. Jared refused to go onto the dancefloor with us because it was too close to the speakers and he was already in a bit of pain and had his fingers in his ears. So I danced with the rest of the guys and Brooke but always kept an eye on him to make sure he wasn't all by himself. At about 12.40am Jared and I admitted defeat- I was sweaty and exhausted- and headed off home. I don't think we're made for staying out late, I seem to have lost the ability since 7th form afterball... out of condition!
We headed back to the carpark on Victoria St only to find that it had been locked at midnight... Jared called the number and they told him that it would cost $40 to get the car out, and at that moment another girl started walking down the corridor towards us and I took one look at her and thought maybe we can split the bill. Luckily two more people with cars turned up at the same time as the security guy did, and he was REALLY nice... he said it wasn't his company but he would allow us to split the $40 between us, so we got out alright. What a nice guy!
On the way home Jared and I agreed that he would have had a better night if he'd brought earplugs and been drinking, and he even said what I was thinking... that the next time he went out he thought it might be better if he went without me, because there was one less person to worry about. Of course, when I said that I felt the same way, he was like "I know this is really hypocritical but I would be really worried about you going out without me". I just told him that I hoped he would be able to get over that eventually... because I really feel that I would have a better time if I didn't have to worry about Jared having a good time too... Is that stink? I hope not... at least he feels the same way. But like... town is a single person's place. And the only way to do couple dancing in a club is that slutty kind of sexual dancing which I'm really not into. And Jared doesn't really like dancing in clubs anyway... he doesn't like the music. It makes him look and feel awkward. Whereas I find it the best music for dancing to because I have hips... anyway.
I felt really gross and dirty when we got home so I had a quick shower and hopped into bed. BED FELT SO NICE after all that loudness and wood floors haha. And that was the end of my night. It'll probably last me quite a while... I tend to have a night out and then stay home for like 2 weeks and it's all good.
So, I am no longer a townvirgin. Finally. After writing this I'm actually kind of excited for the next time!
To trust in me
And you will find...
The time goes by
So naturally
While you receive
Infinity."
I turned 18 last August and I actually hadn't yet gone out to town on a friday night. While this may seem abnormal, it's mostly because I'm, well, lazy. I could have tried to organise something and get a group together. But for one, as already mentioned, I'm lazy... and for two, I felt embarrassed to text people saying "I've never been to town before, can someone chaperon me?"
So anyway, last night me, Jared and most of the Tree: Tam, Greg, Ryan, Brooke, Josh Black, Dudley, Hanan, Saad and Julia (though the last two left early before we really got into many clubs) all met at Father Ted's to celebrate Brooke's impending birthday on Sunday. Wow, that's actually quite a large group, I hadn't realised... The night started off pretty low-key. Father Ted's was cool, there were these two guys playing guitars in the little band corner who did a cover of Hit Me Baby One More Time which was hilarious as our whole table was singing along word-perfect, especially Brooke and Tam who had both already had a few drinks haha. Saad and Tam disappeared to eat some Wendy's and were away quite a while, so we decided we should go look for them in case Wendy's had eaten them instead. Once we'd rescued them from the black hole of Wendy's we all trotted off down Queen St towards Cassette, which was amusing when we met Callum because he was handing out advertisements for the place. Cassette was PACKED- like, no place to sit at all, so we left in search of a place that was kicking but not so squished. At least, that's why I think we left haha. We walked up to Crow Bar but that was practically empty, so we waited with Julia till she got picked up (she had an early morning the next day) and then wandered off to this place Tam thought of called the Carpark. When we EVENTUALLY got there (Saad decided to go home because he hadn't slept in two days apparently, so Tam walked him to his car and Dudley led us off on a circuitous route to the place) it was actually really good. I'd had a large beer by that point and finished off two feijoa vodka + lemonades at the Carpark and then we cracked into some dancing. It was awesome at first, the DJ was playing old awesome rock hits with a dance beat underneath so it was like singing/screaming mania, but then he started going back to the gangsta stuff... and not the kind of gangsta stuff that I like. Jared was worried about his ears because the place was SO LOUD... and well, his ears are his livelihood. Also he wasn't drinking because he was on antibiotics, so that made the whole night a bit flat for him. We hung out outside for a bit and then everyone else joined us and we set off for Lenin on the Viaduct, but got told we were too casual. Snobs! We decide to go to Magarita's despite Dudley's misgivings about the place being full of underage girls. It was pretty good though once again the music was so loud as to be painful- I was slightly drunk by then though so it didn't bother me too much, but I think it gave Jared quite a headache. It was $5 drinks there too and I managed to get a bartender to make me a Pina Colada for $5 so I was pretty pleased. Then we really got into the dancing.
It's weird with club music... I've noticed that out of every 20 songs that are used in clubs, thesedays I only really like about 5 or 6 of them, compared with say 7 or 8 in 7th form and about 10 in 6th form. Music really is just going downhill! But of course, I danced anyway. I love dancing. The thing is that I don't dance with people, even if people are there... it's more like I'm dancing with the music. And this brings me to a rather annoying point of the night.
Brooke has always had this strange thing with me, it's like a mixture of mother hen and... like... dominant female? I don't know. But on the way up Queen St she kept prodding and stroking me on the arm and I told her to stop, so she bit me. This in itself is not as rare or strange as you might think, for Brooke. She is always threatening to bite people, she's just... Brooke. But it really actually hurt. I kind of wanted to hit her or shout at her. She's always joking around, like flirting with me in a way, and it just makes me feel uncomfortable. She was dancing close to me in Margie's and trying to get me to do that dance move, you know, the one where girls crouch down low to the ground and then come back up again, with her. I'm scared that one day she will do that thing that many girls seem to do in clubs, lose it and try to kiss me or something, and I just could not handle that. I'm heterosexual, people! Completely and utterly! And besides, kissing or flirting with ANYONE, boy or girl, when you're taken is cheating. And she should know that I think that way. Anyway, I think (hope) that most of the reason she behaves that way around me is that she knows it makes me feel uncomfortable and she finds it funny and just wants to wind me up. And was also a bit drunk.
Aaaaanyway. Jared refused to go onto the dancefloor with us because it was too close to the speakers and he was already in a bit of pain and had his fingers in his ears. So I danced with the rest of the guys and Brooke but always kept an eye on him to make sure he wasn't all by himself. At about 12.40am Jared and I admitted defeat- I was sweaty and exhausted- and headed off home. I don't think we're made for staying out late, I seem to have lost the ability since 7th form afterball... out of condition!
We headed back to the carpark on Victoria St only to find that it had been locked at midnight... Jared called the number and they told him that it would cost $40 to get the car out, and at that moment another girl started walking down the corridor towards us and I took one look at her and thought maybe we can split the bill. Luckily two more people with cars turned up at the same time as the security guy did, and he was REALLY nice... he said it wasn't his company but he would allow us to split the $40 between us, so we got out alright. What a nice guy!
On the way home Jared and I agreed that he would have had a better night if he'd brought earplugs and been drinking, and he even said what I was thinking... that the next time he went out he thought it might be better if he went without me, because there was one less person to worry about. Of course, when I said that I felt the same way, he was like "I know this is really hypocritical but I would be really worried about you going out without me". I just told him that I hoped he would be able to get over that eventually... because I really feel that I would have a better time if I didn't have to worry about Jared having a good time too... Is that stink? I hope not... at least he feels the same way. But like... town is a single person's place. And the only way to do couple dancing in a club is that slutty kind of sexual dancing which I'm really not into. And Jared doesn't really like dancing in clubs anyway... he doesn't like the music. It makes him look and feel awkward. Whereas I find it the best music for dancing to because I have hips... anyway.
I felt really gross and dirty when we got home so I had a quick shower and hopped into bed. BED FELT SO NICE after all that loudness and wood floors haha. And that was the end of my night. It'll probably last me quite a while... I tend to have a night out and then stay home for like 2 weeks and it's all good.
So, I am no longer a townvirgin. Finally. After writing this I'm actually kind of excited for the next time!
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Wtfpwned
Me: "So, does my shit day beat your shit day?"
Danielle: "Hells yeah! Your shit day just wtfpwned mine. Mine didn't even see it coming. POW!"
Schedule for Wednesday, May 05, 2010.
6.00 am: Get up and get ready for Uni
7.00 am: Get Jared out of bed (nicely) and have him drive me to the train station
7.25 am: Get on train
8.10 am: Get off train, walk to Uni
8.45 am: Arrive at Uni
9.00 am: LINGUISTICS LECTURE. Do a beats swap with Danielle
10.00 am: ANCIENT HISTORY LECTURE. Sit by self as Amy is at home hurriedly finishing her essay. Hand own essay in to tutor
11.00 am: Curly fries with Danielle
12.00 pm: ACCOUNTING LECTURE.
1.00 pm: Decide not to go to English lecture. Sit in on Danielle's MUSIC LECTURE instead. Spend 2 hours studying for Accounting test
3.00 pm: Come out of lecture. Go to info commons
3.30 pm:
4.30 pm:
5.30 pm:
6.30 pm: Accounting test
7.30 pm: Go home.
FOOD CONSUMED AT AUCKLAND UNIVERSITY TODAY: 1 cup of tea, 2 rice wafers, 1 large bowl of fries, 3 gingernut biscuits, 1 apple, 1 bottle of water, 1 small tub of butter chicken, 1 vanilla coke.
TIME SPENT AT AUCKLAND UNIVERSITY TODAY: 10 hours 45 minutes. Wtfpwned.
Danielle: "Hells yeah! Your shit day just wtfpwned mine. Mine didn't even see it coming. POW!"
Schedule for Wednesday, May 05, 2010.
6.00 am: Get up and get ready for Uni
7.00 am: Get Jared out of bed (nicely) and have him drive me to the train station
7.25 am: Get on train
8.10 am: Get off train, walk to Uni
8.45 am: Arrive at Uni
9.00 am: LINGUISTICS LECTURE. Do a beats swap with Danielle
10.00 am: ANCIENT HISTORY LECTURE. Sit by self as Amy is at home hurriedly finishing her essay. Hand own essay in to tutor
11.00 am: Curly fries with Danielle
12.00 pm: ACCOUNTING LECTURE.
1.00 pm: Decide not to go to English lecture. Sit in on Danielle's MUSIC LECTURE instead. Spend 2 hours studying for Accounting test
3.00 pm: Come out of lecture. Go to info commons
3.30 pm:
4.30 pm:
5.30 pm:
6.30 pm: Accounting test
7.30 pm: Go home.
FOOD CONSUMED AT AUCKLAND UNIVERSITY TODAY: 1 cup of tea, 2 rice wafers, 1 large bowl of fries, 3 gingernut biscuits, 1 apple, 1 bottle of water, 1 small tub of butter chicken, 1 vanilla coke.
TIME SPENT AT AUCKLAND UNIVERSITY TODAY: 10 hours 45 minutes. Wtfpwned.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Fail-cake
So, as you may be aware of right now, I am a cupcake fiend. I love making cupcakes. In fact my friend Danielle Walker and I invented the word “cupcaking” for cupcake+making, but apparently that’s already a word meaning canoodling unnecessarily in a public place. So that was a bit of a fail. Also what was a bit of a fail was my latest batch of cupcakes.
My friend Amy-Louise White came over for dinner and we watched this Harry Potter fan musical thing called “A Very Potter Musical” which was absolutely HILARIOUS in the extreme. It was like, all seven book squashed into about 3 hours of stage and it was actually really well written; all the music was really catchy and had great lyrics. After that we decided to skip through Avondale College’s production of High School Musical, which I was in and Amy was a backstage person in. The second night of the show was filmed and made available for us to buy on dvd, so of course with my obsession with posterity, I bought one. Hadn’t watched it yet though. It was a bit cringe-worthy in bits but there were some brilliant one-liners that we’d forgotten about… “Tiramisu. WHY DID I SAY TIRAMISU?!” Ahahaha, good old David K…
I cooked steak for dinner and I DIDN’T BURN IT YAY! It was really tasty, and I was so proud of myself. But then the trouble started. Amy and I decided to do some baking after dinner and I had had a craving for cupcakes for a few weeks… the last batch I made was for easter, they were chocolate with white chocolate crosses and little chocolate bunnies on top, and hence had been consumed quite quickly. I don’t know what it is about baking, but it puts me in this state of mind… I just feel so content and happy, and chilled out. Baking with another person was not so satisfying, but it was fun anyway… except I was only making a half-recipie, and Amy accidently told me to put two cups of milk in. So… after they had spent almost twice the usual cooking time in the oven, those little cupcakes looked like this:
They were all gloopy and half-cooked inside, and all crispy and toffee-ish on the top. Failcake! By this time Amy had gone home, so it took me and my little brain quite a while to figure out what had gone wrong. When I did, I added more flour to the mixture, and the next batch came out looking a bit better:
Slightly less failcake. This morning I ate one and although they taste a little blander than they should, at least they’re the right texture inside now. So today I put some sprinkles on them and they came out looking alright:
So, lessons learned today:
1. Always check everything twice (I’ve been learning this lesson for years),
2. Don’t bake anything complicated with another person,
3. Don’t try a new recipe at night when fixing it may cut into your extremely essential sleeping time.
* * *
Wow, Jared just had to call me into the lounge because a tui flew into the house, hit the wall and then flew out. Unfortunately, he also pooped all over the floor. And doubly unfortunately, Jared had a new guitar student at the time... so it was up to me to sort it out XD I was like "Hi, nice to meet you, welcome to our house... I'm just gonna clean this up now."
My friend Amy-Louise White came over for dinner and we watched this Harry Potter fan musical thing called “A Very Potter Musical” which was absolutely HILARIOUS in the extreme. It was like, all seven book squashed into about 3 hours of stage and it was actually really well written; all the music was really catchy and had great lyrics. After that we decided to skip through Avondale College’s production of High School Musical, which I was in and Amy was a backstage person in. The second night of the show was filmed and made available for us to buy on dvd, so of course with my obsession with posterity, I bought one. Hadn’t watched it yet though. It was a bit cringe-worthy in bits but there were some brilliant one-liners that we’d forgotten about… “Tiramisu. WHY DID I SAY TIRAMISU?!” Ahahaha, good old David K…
I cooked steak for dinner and I DIDN’T BURN IT YAY! It was really tasty, and I was so proud of myself. But then the trouble started. Amy and I decided to do some baking after dinner and I had had a craving for cupcakes for a few weeks… the last batch I made was for easter, they were chocolate with white chocolate crosses and little chocolate bunnies on top, and hence had been consumed quite quickly. I don’t know what it is about baking, but it puts me in this state of mind… I just feel so content and happy, and chilled out. Baking with another person was not so satisfying, but it was fun anyway… except I was only making a half-recipie, and Amy accidently told me to put two cups of milk in. So… after they had spent almost twice the usual cooking time in the oven, those little cupcakes looked like this:
They were all gloopy and half-cooked inside, and all crispy and toffee-ish on the top. Failcake! By this time Amy had gone home, so it took me and my little brain quite a while to figure out what had gone wrong. When I did, I added more flour to the mixture, and the next batch came out looking a bit better:
Slightly less failcake. This morning I ate one and although they taste a little blander than they should, at least they’re the right texture inside now. So today I put some sprinkles on them and they came out looking alright:
So, lessons learned today:
1. Always check everything twice (I’ve been learning this lesson for years),
2. Don’t bake anything complicated with another person,
3. Don’t try a new recipe at night when fixing it may cut into your extremely essential sleeping time.
* * *
Wow, Jared just had to call me into the lounge because a tui flew into the house, hit the wall and then flew out. Unfortunately, he also pooped all over the floor. And doubly unfortunately, Jared had a new guitar student at the time... so it was up to me to sort it out XD I was like "Hi, nice to meet you, welcome to our house... I'm just gonna clean this up now."
Friday, April 23, 2010
Chapter Eight: Down
"Tidal waves
They rip right through me
Tears from eyes mourn
Cold and sad
Pick me up now
I need you so bad."
I haven't posted in so long, it's getting ridiculous. I realised this the other night and mentioned it to Jared, and he said "it's because you're happy."
And then I realised that was actually true. Basically I've just been using this blog to post about being unhappy or confused or things like that. And looking back, this is true of my other blogs as well as my past personal diaries. Why do I only write about being upset? If this was a real account of my day to day life, a lot of it would be all about how happy and content I am.
I guess at least part of the reason I don't blog about being happy is, well, it's boring. It's connected to the other reason I post sometimes... when I've had an epiphany or a breakthrough of some kind, and I want to share it and sound wise and impressive and like a really good writer. People don't really enjoy reading about happy people. It makes them depressed that they aren't as happy or don't have the things that the happy person does, and most of the time that depression shows as boredom. I want people to read my blog, to identify with it, but you have to admit that it's easier to identify with unhappy things than happy things. Why is this? Surely we aren't all sad all the time.
But when you look at musicians and artists and film writers and other creative people, the same theme shows through. I certainly know that it's infinitely easier to write a song when you're feeling down. When I'm happy for ages my creativity dries up. Why? It's not like we only turn to music when we're unhappy. But it's so much harder to write about feeling good than it is about feeling bad. Happiness and the reasons behind happiness are so indescribable sometimes. Happiness is fleeting, whereas depression settles in for the long haul.
I'd really like someone to do a study on the human brain to find out why this is so. And how do we fix it?
Anyway. Deanna has inspired me. From now on I'm going to blog more, and I'm going to use it like my diary, like I was supposed to. I don't want to look back and think that I was unhappy during what is actually the greatest time of my life.
P.S. Hahaha. Jared went to the dawn celebration this morning, he had to get up at 4am and now he's lying on the couch and I can hear him snoring XD
They rip right through me
Tears from eyes mourn
Cold and sad
Pick me up now
I need you so bad."
I haven't posted in so long, it's getting ridiculous. I realised this the other night and mentioned it to Jared, and he said "it's because you're happy."
And then I realised that was actually true. Basically I've just been using this blog to post about being unhappy or confused or things like that. And looking back, this is true of my other blogs as well as my past personal diaries. Why do I only write about being upset? If this was a real account of my day to day life, a lot of it would be all about how happy and content I am.
I guess at least part of the reason I don't blog about being happy is, well, it's boring. It's connected to the other reason I post sometimes... when I've had an epiphany or a breakthrough of some kind, and I want to share it and sound wise and impressive and like a really good writer. People don't really enjoy reading about happy people. It makes them depressed that they aren't as happy or don't have the things that the happy person does, and most of the time that depression shows as boredom. I want people to read my blog, to identify with it, but you have to admit that it's easier to identify with unhappy things than happy things. Why is this? Surely we aren't all sad all the time.
But when you look at musicians and artists and film writers and other creative people, the same theme shows through. I certainly know that it's infinitely easier to write a song when you're feeling down. When I'm happy for ages my creativity dries up. Why? It's not like we only turn to music when we're unhappy. But it's so much harder to write about feeling good than it is about feeling bad. Happiness and the reasons behind happiness are so indescribable sometimes. Happiness is fleeting, whereas depression settles in for the long haul.
I'd really like someone to do a study on the human brain to find out why this is so. And how do we fix it?
Anyway. Deanna has inspired me. From now on I'm going to blog more, and I'm going to use it like my diary, like I was supposed to. I don't want to look back and think that I was unhappy during what is actually the greatest time of my life.
P.S. Hahaha. Jared went to the dawn celebration this morning, he had to get up at 4am and now he's lying on the couch and I can hear him snoring XD
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Imminence
"I've bathed in our own lament
When we were flashing in front of my eyes
And I, and I, and me, are my own worst enemies
But I hope you see the best of us in time.
I'm waiting now for this cause to take effect
Waiting now I am
And though we're standing up high
On this precipice
Waiting now, I am."
This is it. All that semi-spontaneous planning and decisions and longing and crying and wanting have come down to this. The last day that I will spend as a resident of my parents' house.
I'm doing something very unlike me; I'm leaping before I look. I'm still waiting to hear from studylink as to whether I get the student allowance, and yet I'm still moving out... without guarantee that I'll be able to live comfortably. If they say no I can still support myself, just, by teaching. But I'd really rather not be living by the skin of my teeth.
The imminence of this emancipation is... daunting. I feel I've regressed about eight years and then been thrown into the same situation. Bewildered, confused, a little panicky. Not enough to make me chicken out, but enough that when I finally relaxed into uneasy dreams last night it was a relief just to not feel that feeling anymore.
Dad was saying last night that what we're doing is like getting married, without getting married. There's no counseling for moving in together. In some ways, if we were getting married, it'd be easier... but there's time for that.
I feel a bit directionless with this blog. Usually I build a blog around an idea, but the idea I'm building this one around is shaky and uncertain, so the blog is too.
Wish me luck.
When we were flashing in front of my eyes
And I, and I, and me, are my own worst enemies
But I hope you see the best of us in time.
I'm waiting now for this cause to take effect
Waiting now I am
And though we're standing up high
On this precipice
Waiting now, I am."
This is it. All that semi-spontaneous planning and decisions and longing and crying and wanting have come down to this. The last day that I will spend as a resident of my parents' house.
I'm doing something very unlike me; I'm leaping before I look. I'm still waiting to hear from studylink as to whether I get the student allowance, and yet I'm still moving out... without guarantee that I'll be able to live comfortably. If they say no I can still support myself, just, by teaching. But I'd really rather not be living by the skin of my teeth.
The imminence of this emancipation is... daunting. I feel I've regressed about eight years and then been thrown into the same situation. Bewildered, confused, a little panicky. Not enough to make me chicken out, but enough that when I finally relaxed into uneasy dreams last night it was a relief just to not feel that feeling anymore.
Dad was saying last night that what we're doing is like getting married, without getting married. There's no counseling for moving in together. In some ways, if we were getting married, it'd be easier... but there's time for that.
I feel a bit directionless with this blog. Usually I build a blog around an idea, but the idea I'm building this one around is shaky and uncertain, so the blog is too.
Wish me luck.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Prediction
"Shame on us
We knew from the start.
May god have mercy on our dirty little hearts.
Shame on us
For all we have done
And all we ever were
Just zeros and ones."
I have just realised that nobody in the house drinks milk except for me. I was away this past week and the open carton in the fridge was half full and smelled off, while the unopened carton expires tomorrow.
I'm not sure why this hit me in such a strange way. I guess it's just prediction of the near future... I wonder if anyone will buy milk when I move out? This week was like a test for my parents of how it's going to be in about a month's time. They missed me so much it was kind of sad. And ever since I made them see that me moving out was a reality, they've been behaving much better. They've been much nicer to me and to each other.
My cat is at the vet at the moment, staying in the cattery because they can't figure out what's wrong with him. He's not eating or drinking well and he's lethargic and there's something wrong with his liver. I really, really hope he gets better; it would be so utterly horrible if he died. Not just because I'd miss him so much, but for my parents. Their youngest child is already moving out and all they'd have left after me is Shandy. What if he's not here?
Despite all my complaints and their inadequacy and horribleness, I don't want them to be lonely.
We knew from the start.
May god have mercy on our dirty little hearts.
Shame on us
For all we have done
And all we ever were
Just zeros and ones."
I have just realised that nobody in the house drinks milk except for me. I was away this past week and the open carton in the fridge was half full and smelled off, while the unopened carton expires tomorrow.
I'm not sure why this hit me in such a strange way. I guess it's just prediction of the near future... I wonder if anyone will buy milk when I move out? This week was like a test for my parents of how it's going to be in about a month's time. They missed me so much it was kind of sad. And ever since I made them see that me moving out was a reality, they've been behaving much better. They've been much nicer to me and to each other.
My cat is at the vet at the moment, staying in the cattery because they can't figure out what's wrong with him. He's not eating or drinking well and he's lethargic and there's something wrong with his liver. I really, really hope he gets better; it would be so utterly horrible if he died. Not just because I'd miss him so much, but for my parents. Their youngest child is already moving out and all they'd have left after me is Shandy. What if he's not here?
Despite all my complaints and their inadequacy and horribleness, I don't want them to be lonely.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Educate
"Why do I feel so numb?
Is it something to do with where I come from?
Should this be fight or flight?
I don't know why I'm constantly reeling.
Helpless hysteria
A false sense of urgency
Trapped in my phobia
Possessed by anxiety."
I had my first day of music teacher training today. It was... intense. There's so much they feel the have to educate us on... and I'm paying attention as I've never paid attention before, despite the feeling that it's all common sense. You know, stuff about being friendly and that. I don't know, I'm going to have to look through my notes again. My head is overfull of information; it doesn't even know where to start cataloging.
Also I had an instant coffee today with too much coffee in it and went on a nasty caffeine trip. I got all anxious and panicky and sick-feeling. Why do I do that to myself? Why haven't I learned about my low tolerance for caffeine? I had two coffees and a tea today. I must get out of the habit of drinking things like that just to look grown up. I think this is an example of what that girl said today, Laney (the other new vocal teacher), that learning is conscious. You have to choose to learn from something.
A tiny baby has just come into the world. My niece, Lyrical. She is so, so tiny. It's daunting. I feel afraid when I hold her, nervous of the huge responsibility that comes with such a tiny thing. I loved the idea of "Auntie Sheen" but now that it's down to it, I'm scared. The vulnerability and dependence of a newborn baby is staggering. Her entire life, aspects of her personality and her behaviour, they are in our hands.
What will she learn?
Well, I'll teach her to sing. And that coffee is bad for you.
Is it something to do with where I come from?
Should this be fight or flight?
I don't know why I'm constantly reeling.
Helpless hysteria
A false sense of urgency
Trapped in my phobia
Possessed by anxiety."
I had my first day of music teacher training today. It was... intense. There's so much they feel the have to educate us on... and I'm paying attention as I've never paid attention before, despite the feeling that it's all common sense. You know, stuff about being friendly and that. I don't know, I'm going to have to look through my notes again. My head is overfull of information; it doesn't even know where to start cataloging.
Also I had an instant coffee today with too much coffee in it and went on a nasty caffeine trip. I got all anxious and panicky and sick-feeling. Why do I do that to myself? Why haven't I learned about my low tolerance for caffeine? I had two coffees and a tea today. I must get out of the habit of drinking things like that just to look grown up. I think this is an example of what that girl said today, Laney (the other new vocal teacher), that learning is conscious. You have to choose to learn from something.
A tiny baby has just come into the world. My niece, Lyrical. She is so, so tiny. It's daunting. I feel afraid when I hold her, nervous of the huge responsibility that comes with such a tiny thing. I loved the idea of "Auntie Sheen" but now that it's down to it, I'm scared. The vulnerability and dependence of a newborn baby is staggering. Her entire life, aspects of her personality and her behaviour, they are in our hands.
What will she learn?
Well, I'll teach her to sing. And that coffee is bad for you.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Resolute
In order of importance...
Have no grade lower than a B –
Be independent
Save 50% of income from teaching
Get new keyboard: Korg Triton TR76
Don’t expect too much of other people
Get a bunny
Write more blogs
Don’t spend all course-related costs money
Write to Ee Laine
Get photos printed and make an album
Go clubbing
Have no grade lower than a B –
Be independent
Save 50% of income from teaching
Get new keyboard: Korg Triton TR76
Don’t expect too much of other people
Get a bunny
Write more blogs
Don’t spend all course-related costs money
Write to Ee Laine
Get photos printed and make an album
Go clubbing
Fresh
"It could be wrong, could be wrong
But it should've been right
It could be wrong, could be wrong
To let our hearts ignite
It could be wrong, could be wrong
Are we digging a hole?
It could be wrong, could be wrong
This is out of control
It could be wrong, could be wrong
It could never last
It could be wrong, could be wrong
Must erase it fast
It could be wrong, could be wrong
But it could have been right
It could be wrong, could be wrong
Love is our resistance."
I haven't had time to make New Year's resolutions yet. In a way I'm actually scared of them. I've always hated goal setting because I feel like I'm putting pressure on myself. The usual template for goals- "By [insert time here] I will have done [insert goal here]"- includes no qualifier, no "or else". So if I don't accomplish my goal, the only other alternative is feeling disappointed in myself. That's not nice. Expectations strike again!
These were last year's resolutions. The ones I've achieved are in bold.
"Get plenty of sleep
Make every second beverage water
Eat healthily
Wear my hair up at least three times a week
Dress alternatively
Be myself
Start writing again
Start dancing
Write in diary every day
Listen to all of my backlog of new music
Teach piano and voice
Get a job
Save more than I spend
Get a new laptop
Find a keytar
Move out
Go to every lecture
Never forget a birthday
Stay in touch with high school friends
Throw farewell party for EeLaine"
I guess I got most of them... so why am I so scared of resolutions? I guess what I'm most afraid of is failure. I'm afraid that other circumstances will arise that aren't my fault, and I won't be able to accomplish my goals. I'm even more afraid that fate won't intervene and it will be all my fault for being lazy.
This is going to be an intense year for me. I'm moving out, trying to balance Uni and my new job as a singing teacher, trying to get enough money to pay the bills and look after myself and Jared. It might be tough. To throw more on top of myself just seems silly, and seeing as I don't know what the year is going to be like, setting goals that I can predict I will accomplish is impossible.
And yet, with this fresh start hovering over my head, I can't help but turn my mind towards the important things, the things I want to achieve this year.
But it should've been right
It could be wrong, could be wrong
To let our hearts ignite
It could be wrong, could be wrong
Are we digging a hole?
It could be wrong, could be wrong
This is out of control
It could be wrong, could be wrong
It could never last
It could be wrong, could be wrong
Must erase it fast
It could be wrong, could be wrong
But it could have been right
It could be wrong, could be wrong
Love is our resistance."
I haven't had time to make New Year's resolutions yet. In a way I'm actually scared of them. I've always hated goal setting because I feel like I'm putting pressure on myself. The usual template for goals- "By [insert time here] I will have done [insert goal here]"- includes no qualifier, no "or else". So if I don't accomplish my goal, the only other alternative is feeling disappointed in myself. That's not nice. Expectations strike again!
These were last year's resolutions. The ones I've achieved are in bold.
"Get plenty of sleep
Make every second beverage water
Eat healthily
Wear my hair up at least three times a week
Dress alternatively
Be myself
Start writing again
Start dancing
Write in diary every day
Listen to all of my backlog of new music
Teach piano and voice
Get a job
Save more than I spend
Get a new laptop
Find a keytar
Move out
Go to every lecture
Never forget a birthday
Stay in touch with high school friends
Throw farewell party for EeLaine"
I guess I got most of them... so why am I so scared of resolutions? I guess what I'm most afraid of is failure. I'm afraid that other circumstances will arise that aren't my fault, and I won't be able to accomplish my goals. I'm even more afraid that fate won't intervene and it will be all my fault for being lazy.
This is going to be an intense year for me. I'm moving out, trying to balance Uni and my new job as a singing teacher, trying to get enough money to pay the bills and look after myself and Jared. It might be tough. To throw more on top of myself just seems silly, and seeing as I don't know what the year is going to be like, setting goals that I can predict I will accomplish is impossible.
And yet, with this fresh start hovering over my head, I can't help but turn my mind towards the important things, the things I want to achieve this year.
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