Los Angeles is burning

"A placard reads "the end of days", Jacaranda boughs are bending in the haze, more a question than a curse; how could hell be any worse? The flames are stunning, the camera's running, so take warning: when the hills of Los Angeles are burning, palm trees are candles in the murder wind - so many lives are on the breeze, even the stars are ill at ease, and Los Angeles is burning." - Bad Religion

Brum brum

Today the Watsonia Motor Show was held, featuring live music and of course, cars, vintage and new. People, young and old, swarmed to see the shiniest and most prized vehicles pull into their display spaces, engines roaring at a deafening volume.

There were definitely some beauties there, I took over 200 photos (even of the police cars, ambulance and taxis). Some of my favourites were the 1927 Ford Roadster, the Firebug Volkswagen Beetle, the "Astro Boy" (as I call it) and the "Neat" Ford XC.

The good weather seemed to yield more than just glittering cars, as the streets filled with Banyule's retro/rockabilly inspired auto enthusiasts. In all directions, the small shopping district was painted with high heels, full-circle skirts and plenty of tattoos.


Draw 4 were playing as well, which was a lovely treat. Have a nice day.

Knusperhäuschen

Hallo allerseits!

Today I finished my German gingerbread house or "little nibble cabin" as directly translated. I think it came out okay, it's still drying with the help of egg carton supports as the roof is over 3kg alone. It is rather tall, just over 30cm in height. It even comes complete with icicles hanging from the roof and marshmallow support poles.

Tonight is my last Thursday night in Australia. This time next week I'll be sleeping in Korea. I'm insanely nervous and excited.


Gute Nacht.

Thursday's the day

November 20 is the 324th day of the year (325th in leap years) in the Gregorian calendar, leaving 41 days remaining until the end of the year.

On the 20th of November, 1820, an 80-ton sperm whale attacks the Essex, a whaling ship from Nantucket, inspiring Herman Melville's 1851 novel Moby-Dick.
On the 20th of November, 1945, the Nuremberg trials against Nazi war criminals begin at the Palace of Justice.
On the 20th of November, 1985, Microsoft Windows 1.0 is released.
On the 20th of November 1972, NASA had a press conference after making contact with what was believed to be extra-terrestrial life (on the X-Files).
And on the 20th of November, 2008, the Macleod College Germany Study Tour will set off across the world for five weeks.

Being Wednesday the 12th today, tomorrow night will be my last Thursday night in Australia. Friday will be my first day in another country in over 5,700 days. Can you believe it? I wonder if Mulder and Scully are household names in Germany...

Also just a note of congratulations to Polak who is back training with the Tigers today after being hit by a tram 5 months ago. He is still suffering from results of the accident such as memory loss and is not expected to play next year.

Nighty night.

Otherside

This time in ten days I will be flying across Australia towards Seoul, Korea. When we get there, I will breathe my first overseas breath. I will take my first step on foreign ground. And I will speak my first foreign word. I am, as yet, unborn to the world outside this southern, island land. Let's hope life on the other side of the planet is more bearable than this one.

Learn from experience

Artificial lungs breathe deep breaths
Filling up this chest of emptiness
Leave me alone
'Cause I'm dying to be on my own

Welcome to the end of time
Pacing back and forth in my own mind
Terrors in the night
I refuse to lose this fight

Leave me alone
I can't play this game
After all these solemn tears
Get out of my way
I'll never be the same
As I was two years ago

I learned so much from mistakes
Learned how easy hearts can break
Break this chain
'Cause I'm sick of the fucking pain

Leave me alone
I can't play this game
After all these solemn tears
Get out of my way
I'll never be the same
As I was two years ago

Running home on frosty grass
Skipping stones through my own past
Leaving bread crumb trails behind
And this is what I come to find

Leave me alone
I can't play your game
No not after this
Get out of my way
I'll never be the same girl
Never again
Never, never

Leave me alone
I can't play this game
After all these solemn tears
Get out of my way
I'll never be the same
As I was two years ago
As I was two years ago
Never

Sharpened scraps

I saw my specialist yesterday. He was rather nice. I spoke to him about my general thigs in my life - now and in the past. I nearly cried a few times but I held back.
I think, as a whole, the session went reasonably well. I am going to see him the Tuesday after next, a few days before I leave for Germany.

Goodnight.

Stronger

Today it is exactly 2 weeks until I fly to Germany and only a little longer until I see Sam and meet Natali, my exchange partner.
Today is also my first session with Dr. Don Bornstein, my analyst and counsellor.

I'm nervous, because since we made the appointment I have grown much stronger in my situation and I don't think that I need anymore help than I've already given myself.
However I will go and see what happens; there is a chance he will say I am fine and send me on my way, after all, and that would surely please everybody.

Tonight or tomorrow I am going to make gingerbread for my German gingerbread house.
I will post pictures of the delightful creation when it is complete - even if it is a complete disaster - so don't have high expectations... those of you were were in my Years 8 and 9 cooking class know what I mean.

Bring it on, baking powder.

The sound of breaking up

Why is it that when we have something, we disregard it as a given and ignore its beauty until finally it is lost and we feel empty?

As my father put it, our lives are like our arms rounded in front of us with our hands clasped together to form a bubble. When you meet someone you think is special, you let them fill up your life bubble so that your arms are stretched out as far as they can go. But when they leave, everything else that used to fill your life has slowly slipped away from you, and your life bubble is left hollow, giving us only hurt and memories of a time when we were so fulfilled.

Maybe we are destined to forever revel in what is lost or what is yet to be, never accepting and appreciating the now. Perhaps when we find something to fill us again, we will regret giving up the alone time. Perhaps it is truly impossible to satisfy man's carnal hunger for more than what is.

I hope one day I am satisfied.

So fresh

Today I stumbled across my old CD collection, a variety of my mother's 70's and 80's albums and my own discs, including some pop, rock and rap and of course the So Fresh albums we bought every year - say hello to my childhood memories.

It's so peculiar to listen to the songs that made me cry when I was 8 and what I thought when I heard them, and to think how much my life has changed since then. I thought everything was such a disaster, and oh hey this is the song that has been on Michael Hill commercials in the past few years! I never would have realised. As I was saying, breaking up with my boyfriend of what seemed like forever was the end of the world. It took me nearly three years to get over him!

But I also see myself dancing to these songs in front of my class, unashamed and beautiful. A slim, blonde and blue-eyed beauty. Boy did I throw all that away.

And I've never been prouder.

Gods of football

Happy first of November everyone. I can hardly believe that this month I will be zipping through the air for the first time ever and what a better landing than one in Germany. But let's get on with the blog.

As some of you may know, Gods of Football is a cross-code team featuring some of Australia's most elite AFL and NRL players. The team's purpose is to showcase Australia's most attractive sportsmen in a delightful blend of sport, style and sex, while supporting charity. Only the publicly voted best-looking players or winners of the Sexiest Man in League competitions are eligible to join the Gods of Football.

Gods of Football has launched a series of fundraising merchandise which will benefit the McGrath Foundation breast cancer charity. The first product, a classy nude calendar photographed by Pedro Virgil, was released on the 26th of September.

Some of the members of Gods of Football include Brett Stewart, Nathanael Barnes, Andrew Welsh and Chris Johnson.

I guess this popped up right on time for the Hot Guy Board!

Body clock

Exercise at 9am - morning exercise boosts your mood.
Tackle tough tasks at 10am, when concentration peaks.
Eat lunch at 1pm, when liver enzymes cause hunger pangs.
Go to the dentist at 2pm, when your pain threshold peaks.
Drink wine at 7pm, when the liver can metabolise alcohol faster.
Have sex at 10pm - this is when your libido peaks.
Finally, go to bed at 11pm, when you experience a surge of melatonin.

Phew. 7 o'clock; better have my wine and start getting ready for you-know-what at 10.

Price check on chuck-up chick?

Charlie tried a price check on a chick who chucked up on the check-out chick.
Well that's my attempt at a tongue twister loosely based on my experience at work today.
Don't ever vomit in a staff toilet. I promise myself never to get that close to the stench of Fresh Produce Guy's hairy ass again.

Ta.

Just shoot me

Here's a run-down of the past two days:

Monday
Ben promises to see me after school.
Decides at the end of the day to go to gym instead.
I plan to commit suicide, Justin interferes. I am grateful.

Tuesday
I go to school. Ben texts me during period 3 and tells me to stay away from him because he doesn't care anymore.
I sit alone at recess listening to my iPod.
Ben sits next to me resulting in a panic attack. I scream, push him on his back and kick him in the head/neck area.
I run to the train tracks and stand on them waiting for a train.
Courtney sees me and runs to me stopping me from harming or killing myself.
My mother picks me up and takes me home. I have a panic attack because Ben hadn't contacted me. I hyperventilate and pass out in my bed.
I am taken to see a doctor who makes an appointment with a psychiatrist in Albert Park so that I can be prescribed anti-depressants. The appointment is next Thursday.

Wednesday
My mum tells me to stay home from school. I have not heard from Ben since I kicked him.
I watch television until I have a flashback followed by a seizure. I pass out. I wake up and have a panic attack and run away from home. My dad calls my mum who finds me dirty in a bush two streets from my home.
I am taken to hospital as I am too afraid to go home.
I hyperventilate and attempt to strangle myself.
I am now under constant supervision.

I am on 4th suicide attempt, a 5th will have me entered in a psychiatric ward until I am 18. I don't know what to do. I'm so alone. Ben wishes me dead. I can't believe it.
My life has been turned upside down.

What can I do?

All hope is lost

I kicked him in the head and now he will never talk to me again.
I will be sent to see psychologists and put on pills.
I will no longer see the other side of the world or fly on a plane.
I will never be trusted by my parents again.
I will never feel his love again.

And there's nothing I can do.

Certificate II in Multimedia

I just got home from my meeting at Northland Secondary College to confirm my enrollment for 2009's Certificate II in Multimedia. It was rather amusing seeing only two decent-looking music boys (and one hot media teacher) although the few attractive ones were very attractive.

It seems I've got the leg up already; after seeing me in awe of this year's media work, one of the teachers laughed and became excited, later revelling in me having already filled in and submitted application forms prior to the information evening. He later stated that my last name must be 'Keen'.

Afterwards I laughed at the badly disorganised school photos; there was so distinction between teacher and student, they were all just thrown together resulting in hilarious comparisons eg. David Lewis, aged approximately 13, followed by Henry Leith, aged approximately 300.

Ta.

Dancing with the judges

Today whilst at Greensborough Shopping Plaza I met one of the judges off of Dancing With The Stars, Mark Wilson.

He was really lovely and showed me a little dance. It was great that he was so bubbly and chatty, I was scared he might be snobby but he's the complete opposite. I was nervous asking for a photo but he was wonderful about it and then I helped an elderly lady have her photo taken with him.


Anyhow I'm getting pretty excited for Germany now, it's only 33 days. I have less time left here than I will spend there!

My chest gets tense at the thought.

Believe me Natali

I found out today who my host partner will be in Düsseldorf. Her name is Natali I. and she is 15 years old. She is in Year 9 at the Geschwister Scholl Gymnasium and she does judo.

I have been chatting to her on MSN and I must say she is very nice and down to earth. This trip gets better every day... I'm sure Natali will be a Freundin I keep forever!

x

Dripping

My thoughts bleed out my eyes and ears, feeding angry ants who carry my happiness in molecular droplets back to their Queen. I lay here for hours on end, you lifeless in my arms, asleep. I shudder but my tears on your cheek make no difference to you. You are over me, and I am lost to the world.

My emotional decay running free like wilderbeast, I needed you, and you were there. Weeping into your chest, secure and safe from the rest of this war-torn world. Protected by your cold embrace.

You whisper sweet words to make me think that I'm not insane, that there is still hope. The light at the end of my tunnel will soon fade. This is all too good to be true.
You'll turn your back on me soon. And then nobody will hear me scream.

Not even me.

Bodies

Hair; hairy. Skin; skinny. Ears; eerie. Nose; nosey. Mouth; mouthy. Neck; necky. Hands; handy. Legs; leggy. Feet; footy. Toes; toey.

We are a descriptive bunch, aren't we?

Fliegst du weg, Mädchen

We shed a tear as we bid Sam farewell. She is somewhere far away now, having fun I hope. The airport was a funeral parlour for teenage girls, huddled together to wish their friend a wonderful trip. It really was as though someone had died. Seeing their faces in such agony forced a tear or two out of me - it was hard to cry knowing that in just over a month I would be in Germany with her, but I still did.

Goodbyes flew and heartstrings ached as we watched Sam leave, all alone, tears streaking down her face while her parents looked on in opaque concern. It’s rare to see people so openly... existent. Emotions are so often hidden in today’s life that I often wonder if we are just robotic beings, inhabiting this earth as the aftermath of man’s technological destruction; completely oblivious to who and what we really are. But then I see something that reminds me of what it is that makes us human – the tears shed, the laughter – for once everything isn’t hollowed out from the inside. It’s in those brief few moments I accept that we aren’t just shells. I no longer think of men as walking wooden figures… maybe there really is something more than what’s skin-deep, and my perception of all people as termite-filled corpses is false.

Maybe I’m the only monster.

But I saw something else that day - laughter. As they cried, one laughed. His mouth wide and his eyes shining, all emotion set free as Ben watched his sister walk out of the departure lounge. Is this a monster, like me? Or is this a cover up? Such maniacal bliss, I could never quite understand – maybe I’m still learning how to be empty… because my tears were real.

Tide hold

Two days ago, on the first of October, I ventured out of my cave and went to the beach with Ben. The train ride to Brighton was a rough one; I was groaning in agony whilst clutching my stomach and praying for mercy the entire way there. (This is the beauty of suffering endometriosis*. Also, as I recently discovered, thanks to my having this condition, there is a 30-40% chance that I will become or am already infertile. Learning this broke my heart.)

Anyway, once we got there I felt much better - Ben was still a little worried about fellow train passengers thinking I was in labor - so we went and sat down in the sand.
The sunset was amazingly beautiful and I just had to admire nature's ability to form the most miraculous sights for me each day.

Farewell.

Winter's farewell

And so in these recent days I say my last goodbyes to a winter that has nurtured and protected me from the world. I have been able to escape, hidden behind layers of clothing and blankets, curled up on the ducted heating vent. But now the days are fast becoming hot and dry - thick, sweaty air pressing in on me, telling me it's time to take off my jumper and woolen stockings in favour of a singlet and tiny shorts.

I hate summer. It's so... revealing. Everywhere I look I curl my lips in disgust at this modern day fashion. Such disregard for one's own privacy revolts me. Especially the adolescent girls who think they're "all that", parading their newly discovered breasts and bottoms in the tiniest bikini on sale. Although, I cannot argue that it is their fault. In a time of hardcore pornography and, of course, softcore pornography (see any and every film made for teens since the late 90's) it's nearly impossible to live up to standards unless you go to the beach in your birthday suit and not much else.

Aside from being a jealous tyrant in the past few years, I really do have valid reasons for disliking this particular season. It's sweaty, still, you could cut the air with a butter knife and it is unbearably hot. Sleeping becomes a privelage rather than a right, if you can manage it. Although the warmer time of year isn't completely without reward - especially this year. I can't believe I'm spending part of Australia's summer in Europe's winter, actually seeing the snow, the lights, the Christmas markets and drinking in all the delicious little details that make their world so far from ours. And when I arrive home two days before Christmas, there will be decorations and presents galore.

Maybe summer isn't so bad after all.

Blood

How did I get here? What did I do? Where do I go from now? This dark place… it’s killing me. How can I escape? I don’t know. I wonder if there is any escape. I’m tortured by these wailing, stabbing thoughts, these persistant cries drilling themselves deeper and deeper into my brain until they infect the blood itself. Hot, sticky hate. These thoughts make my skin crawl, my face flush, my chest tense and my heart pound, sending them pulsing through my veins to the very tips of my toes and back again, revived like the morning sun and just as hot to touch. Her name. He said her name. How can I kiss him when those very same lips have just spoken her name?

Hide it. Bottle it up. Turn it into a cocktail, poison rotting at my arteries until the envy in my blood spills out and consumes every inch of me, right down to my soul. Soon enough, I’ll let it explode. My insides are blistering. He said her name. For years this has gone on. I’ll never forget. Every word is as clear in my ringing ears as the moment they were slurred or spoken. I was always second to her. Living in her long, slender, beautiful shadow. I stood in that shadow as though it were a grave, shallow and cold. The most gorgeous girl in the world. The hottest body. The cutest face. I wonder what it feels like to be so amazing. There’s something so painful about being second best. You feel so close, yet so far away. It's enough to drive you insane. It did it to me. He did it to me. How could he do this to me?

I am disabled, yet I get no parking space and people do not pity me. But they do laugh. People have asked me why I hate “it” so much. Everybody does it. But how could I not hate it? I can never compete with these ideals he sets for me. This isn’t love. I feel so disgusting, like an animal. All I am is a parisite, clinging on, hoping things will change. But they never do, they never do. Screaming and laughing, contaminated sound waves to shatter my body, break my bones, leaving me crumpled in a heap on the floor, shaking, dying. The best I can do is to ignore it and hope to God that the heat doesn't start creeping down my arms when he's near. But he has said her name.

It's as though I become possessed by jealousy, hate and rage. It is a fire which blazes through my body, taking control, trying to escape and taste the air. I know that the moment it reaches my fingertips it will happen. I am too weak... it succeeds. My right hand collides with his face, my left swings up and tears at his hair. There is blood under one of my fingernails. And then the blistering heat is gone, subsided to its internal hiding place. Next comes the screaming.

He says nobody else would ever stay with me… I wonder.

Beyond reasonable doubt

America. It's a land of freedom and a land where justice is for all. At least, it's supposed to be. But for Damien Echols, Jessie Misskelley and Jason Baldwin, America's West Memphis is hell.

Despite America's justice system's rule that any person must be "guilty beyond reasonable doubt" to be convicted of a crime, Jessie and Jason face life in prison for the tragic murder of three young boys with which there is no evidence to indicate they were involved. Damien has sat for the past 15 years in solitary confinement in a 9’ by 12’ solid-front cell, trying every day to free himself and his best friends. Aged just eighteen, he was sentenced to death by lethal injection.


So in one of the most powerful countries in the world, a triple-homicide is pinned on three teenage boys. You may be wondering what the evidence was against these three West Memphis adolescents. Well, there is limited evidence to suggest that any of the boys were in any way involved, but let me tell you the main points that sent them each to maximum security facilities.

After being interrogated for hours by police (off-tape and off-camera), seventeen-year-old Jessie Misskelley, who has an IQ of just 74 and suffers a mental disability was finally recorded confessing that he had witnessed Jason and Damien rape, murder and mutilate three 8-year-old boys in the Robin Hood Hills forest. He stated that this happened during the morning and that the three victims had been tied up with brown rope in the woods. Throughout the confession, police guided and corrected Jessie when his story did not match vital details in the evidence. For example, Jessie stated the entire time that it had happened in the morning, until police mentioned that evidence suggested the boys were killed at night. From then on, he used the term "night". Also, the boys were tied up with white shoelaces, not brown rope, and forensic investigation concluded that not only were none of the victims raped, as Jessie had stated, they were not even killed in the woods, but dumped there.

Besides this there is little evidence at all, except for the following facts about Damien Echols which were repeatedly stated and which he was questioned on during the trial.

Damien Echols had longish, dyed black hair and had reportedly been witnessed in the past wearing black nail polish. He wore mainly black clothing and was even seen wearing an all-black trenchcoat. His musical tastes were of a "questionable" manner; Damien owned many Metallica CDs and wore black band t-shirts. On top of all this, the 18-year-old enjoyed reading Steven King novels of the horror genre.

Sixteen-year-old Jason Baldwin owned clothing that had similar fibres to that of fibre found on one of the victim's clothing. However, there is no evidence to conclude that the fibres on the victim came from those garments as the fibres could have originated from any one of hundreds of thousands of garments available and owned in and around West Memphis.

This is the evidence that resulted in Damien receiving the death penalty and placing Jason and Jessie behind bars for the rest of their natural lives plus forty years without parole. The confession of a mentally handicapped 17-year-old, inadmissable fibre evidence and an undesirable taste in music.

Please visit the West Memphis Three support site at http://www.wm3.org/ and help to free these innocent young men before Damien joins the other three young boys as another tragedy.

Thank you.

Aus Liebe zum Automobile

Sitting at a restaurant table in Munich in the summer of 1932, a man of immense power and force designed the prototype for what would become the world-famous Volkswagen Beetle. This man believed that everybody should be able to own a car, and that every family should be able to holiday, recreate and most of all drive in style.

Adolf Hitler. Artist, dictator, mass murderer, designer of what has arguably become the world's most popular car... a man of many talents.

Despite it's seedy beginnings, there is no doubt the the VW is one hell of a car. Some of these babies are over 50 years old and still huffing and puffing their way up the Hume Highway.

Yes, Volkswagen has produced some pretty amazing automobiles. You've got your Kombis, Karmann Ghias, Polos, not to mention Herbie, that adorable Love Bug.

If you want to see more of VW's current and past autos, head over to their website at http://www.volkswagen.com/.
They even have Beetle merchandise! My gosh they truly are an amazing make of cars.

Night!

I'm pretty old

This is going to be a super duper short blog; I just wanted to let you all know that I'm celebrating my 5,660th day on earth and boy is it great to be alive! Soon enough I'll be wrinkling, and not just when I'm in the bath.

Fifty-five days, I says

It's only 55 days until I head O.S. and I am completely bewildered and amazed at hoe quickly time how flown since I first decided to go to Germany. Way back in 2006, in fact! What do you know. Yes, back when I was 13 I had a dream. A dream to travel outside this barren land and see the snow and - god forbid - rain. Maybe they have grass there. What a trip! I wonder if there's wind in Europe.*

So here's a little countdown to watch while I wait, it's sure to bring me joy with each passing day. Germany is the reason I actually started this blog in the first place so once I finally get there you'll never stop hearing about it!

Argghh, I can't believe it's so close, yet so far away!
Excitement overload, much?

*No, I'm not being serious.

Robotic

Four days in and I feel I've been consumed by this holiday madness. Hours running into hours, days running into days. Day and night no longer transcend from one to the other, they merely crash into each other to blend one whole, dim life. My surroundings a watercolour painting, lacking detail and sustain. It feels I'm collapsing in my own shoebox diorama - the show must stop. My once neat little world has been catapulted into disarray.

Working. Hours of standing, dusting, greeting, speaking, packing and pretending to be human. I don’t care about these people.
Recreation. Laying in my room crying with the television on, wanting him to be my own, not hers. Why her?
Sleeping. Tossing and turning in nightmarish convulsions, rapping my raw, red knuckles against the bed post until my father hears and comes to see what all the noise is.

Is this life? Just drifting through the stages, lifeless, doing things without thinking because they’ve been keyed into us like a machine? If I walk, I don’t know where I’ll end up.

And I'm so afraid.
Somebody, please.

Help me.

A blasphemous eulogy

A suicide nobody noticed; a love letter nobody read.
Is this how you thank the girl who held your head against her chest?
Who forgave you time and time again for letting her heart break,
Who sat through all the torture moaning because you preferred it fake?
She yelled and cried and cut her wrists but nothing ever changed,
So now she's given up trying to make her life a better place.
She heard a word, it tore her up, she nearly burst into tears.
But she hid it because she learned to from these two long, awful years.
Drowned in sorrow, burned by guilt, she kissed another man.
And now she's cut her throat to see if then you'd hold her hand.
For over a thousand deadly days she slowly faded black,
A memory soon forgotten because you wouldn't take her back.
She apologized, laid the world at your feet but it never was enough.
Tear-stained and bloodied, two teenagers, victim to a love so rough.



I loved you.

Rotund rebels

Today was rather fun. Cameron, Joel, Blair, Nathan, Julian and I decided to crash Macleod park's gazebo and boy was it exciting. Nathan aka Lionel's phone is better than mine because it has water in it - he can drink it through his nose! And Cameron is apparently now my boyfriend. All is well in Candyland.

But ohhh no - watch out for the shiny red Holden! Zip down Aberdeen Road came Papa G with his foot on the pedal and his mind of a crisp new pack of Horizons. So up I jump, out of the mighty 'tund and into a nearby wattle. Heck that thing was scratchy! My eyebrow still has a little red mark. God bless Australia.

Nathan being excited by his water-filled phone.

Joel being completely pussy-whipped.

Cameron playing handball (back: Ice Truck Killer!)

Anyway that's about all for now.
Toodles!

Two thousand and sicks

My breath is short and my heartbeat is slowing down to a tightening pace. It makes my chest feel inflated and blocked off from the rest of my body.
My head is light and dizzy. Year 8 is leaping up into mouth, begging for freedom. I wish I could let it go. I spray my Fa deodorant. My throat locks up. My eyes flicker. Is this really happening?
I waver and nearly fall. I can taste beer. I can feel his head in my lap, stroking my leg. Leave, fucking get away. I don't want that. Not that. The rest is okay. Just not him.
My blonde fringe swings in front of my eyes. Huge, blue eyes. Two fat, chunky rings clink on the front of my teeth as I grin wide and bright. Fuck yes. This is it. My hit. My drug. Year 8...

xx

Snapshot

Well this will just be a short one, I'm advertising my dA account as my deviations are pretty comment-lonely at the moment.

I do try to take a few nice photos every now and again and I'd love to hear some honest feedback so I can improve.

The link is http://alyssajayne.deviantart.com/.

I hope there's something there you like!

xx

Hypersensitivity

I wonder where to begin
’Cause I’ve let it slide away
Like another yesterday
And it’s all crashing down

Tell me all the things that you lied about
Tell me all the things that I cried about
Were they true or were they false?
Tell me all the methods of hurt you used
Tell me was I right to feel overused
Was it a matter of consequence?

I am here to tell you
That you can’t get away
With everything you say
And now thanks to you

I’m broken inside
Sensitive to the light
And it’s all because of you
You made me feel so used
So I’m asking you this

Was it really my fault?
Could I have done anything at all
Do you regret anything you said
Or is it pushed to the back of your head
Do you just not care?

Tell me all the things that you lied about
Tell me all the things that I cried about
Were they true or were they false?
Did I have the right now to trust you
Did I have the right not to touch you
Was I just a slave to you?
Was I just a game to you?

Psychasthenia

"Psychasthenia is a psychological disorder characterized by phobias, obsessions, compulsions, or excessive anxiety.

The MMPI subscale 7 describes psychasthenia as akin to obsessive-compulsive disorder, and as characterised by excessive doubts, compulsions, obsessions, and unreasonable fears. The psychasthenic have an inability to resist specific actions or thoughts, regardless of their maladaptive nature. In addition to obsessive-compulsive features, the scale taps abnormal fears, self-criticism, difficulties in concentration, and feelings of guilt. The scale assesses long-term anxiety, although it is somewhat responsive to situational stress as well.

The psychasthenic have insufficient control over their conscious thinking and memory, sometimes wandering aimlessly and/or forgetting what they were doing. Thoughts can be scattered and take significant effort to organize, sometimes resulting in sentences that don't come out as intended, therefore making little sense to others. The psychasthenic may be of extraordinarily high intelligence, but often do not perform at their peak as a result of mental interference by obsessions or phobias. The constant mental effort and characteristic insomnia induces fatigue, which worsens the condition. One may also suffer persistant muscle spasms or uncontrollable twitches when experiencing serious mental disruption."

So I'm extending to each and every one of you this question: do you know the line between your friend being a little down to being self-harming and suicidal? Would you even know if you yourself were suffering a phobia or a compulsion, or would you just accept yourself as being fine?

I know that my thoughts are irrational. Yet I cannot stop them. Or even slow their progress. And they are, more and more rapidly, eating away at me.

So what the hell is wrong with me? Will I ever know?

Somebody help me.

Some Saturdays

Last night was one of those nights I really enjoy and cherish. It was the kind of night when you just sit around and everything falls into place.

There were some minor hiccoughs in the early afternoon, but things eventually blew over and I was able to relax and let some scratches heal over.

Justin, Matt, Ben and I had a lovely time teasing Sam, playing games and moshing.

Some of the horrible cruelties we subjected Samuel to while he was sleeping include: spraying Lynx onto an open flame beside his face, flicking rubber bands at his face, singing Aboriginal chants at the top of our lungs, shooting cap guns at him, throwing ourselves onto him, putting shaving cream on him (or attempting to) and moshing - resulting in everything falling off of Ben's bookcase after a particularly brutal fall by Justin.

Justin: Sometimes you're so lame, it's unbelievable.
Matt: Sometimes you're so not lame, it is believable!

Alyssa: Fuck you, Ben.
Ben: Not tonight, thanks.
Guy on GTA4: Fuck meeeee!
[All start laughing hysterically]

Matt: Outta the way, Kombi van!

[Matt quotes himself]
Alyssa: I don't think you should be bragging about making some of the worst calls ever!

[Ben, Justin, Matt and Alyssa sing Indigenous Australian chants]
Sam: What the fuck are you doing?
Justin: It's your native chant!
[Sam leave the room]
Justin: Milika! Hey, Milika!

Justin, Ben and Alyssa [singing]: I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now.
Alyssa: I think we all know that, deep down inside, Justin was singing that to someone else in the car that day. That's right, Justin. It's okay. I know how you feel about me. I see the way you look at me...
Justin: What the fuck?! Shut the fuck up!

Good times, great classic hits.
P.S. Justin said something very true last night. He said, "One day you'll look back on this night, smile and remember these as the good old days. But, as they say, youth is wasted on the young."

'Night.

Summer mumble

For months I have waited. Through the falling leaves, the frosty 6:00am awakenings and the first signs of spring, I have patiently gone on with my life, anticipating this feeling's return. It's a glorious and overwhelming feeling, looking on powerlessly as the fourth season lets its final adjustments creep into the city - summer has arrived.

No more water will leak into my shoes as I brush the icy morning off of the grass. No more torn stockings to pull up over palid legs. No more hot chips, indoor dinners, mosquito free nights. Sleep no longer an everyday thing in the struggle against the heatwaves that creep into my room, promoted by my tin roof and lack of insulation.

Slowly but surely, Christmas decorations fill department stores, the smell of tinsel and artificial pine trees lifts me up in euphoric delight. I think of cherry cakes, golden gifts and family arguments. I think of riding my bike to see the Christmas houses late at night and eating too many icy poles. The scent of "fake cold" - air conditioners droning under the summer sun and into the summer nights.

One year I remember laying in bed on top of the blankets at 5 am wanting to hold his hand.
The next year I remember laying in bed on top of the blankets at 5 am thinking how amazing it was that he was holding my hand.
This year I anticipate an empty bed. Holding my pillow, sobbing into the darkness. Big, scary, empty darkness. Nothing to run from; no-one to run to.

Kris Kringle, candy canes, receiving the same Kmart cards from everybody in class, buying your best friends matching presents from the $2 shop, window shopping to the sound of Greensleeves in the city at night, sleeping in next to nothing if you're lucky.
These things to me are all synonymous with summer and the drowsy, satisfying feeling that comes with it.

I make a pact that summer '08 will be my best yet - if that's possible.

Calm (I'm a junkie)

I knew this would happen, and I've been waiting for it. Heavy drops of sweat pound like a leaky tap; I feel seasick on land. I feel hot, but my skin is like ice. A vice-like bind grips my abdomen, pulling and pushing me - I swing between jerky convulsions as though I am freezing and sick to smooth, wavering sways, like a skyscraper in an earthquake.

I feel the vomit in my throat before it runs freely from my mouth and nose. Have I been coughing blood? My very own Mallory-Weiss tear. I feel so proud. My face contorts in raw, physical anguish - this pain is unbearable - I need my hit. Lift me from this dysphoric torture; I've been abandoned and I'm so very alone.

I blink slowly, letting salty tears roll silently over my eyelashes and onto my cheek bones. It's been 14,460 seconds since we lay here in my bed, clutching each other like colliding parentheses - I'm coming down, weaker every second. So parched, my mouth is a desert and my breath a sandstorm corroding and stealing every last ounce of moisture I have. My throat is closing up... I wonder how much longer I can last off of this rattling, suffocated respiration.

Every muscle in my body is rotting away, leaving me motionless, paralyzed on the hard wooden floor. I know that if I give up now I won't make it. It's been 46,840 seconds. How many more before you come to fix me? With every slowing heartbeat I see more and more clearly the truth, that you are never coming back.

And throughout all of this it is only in my final seconds that I realise I am utterly helpless - addicted to you. I savour the sight before my glassy, emerald eyes - just a bed that we once lay in, in love - for I am at last able to accept that it will be my last. I close my eyes, letting it wash over me. I am finally, for the first time in my life, completely calm. By the time the next wave of sorrow life tries to hurl my way reaches my bedroom door, I am already dead.

Crumbling in your sorry embrace.

Hiding

I'm so sick of hiding under this false, battered shell. I feel like I'm trapped inside my own worthless body, the one that I've made a living hell of a life for. Maybe if I hadn't chosen such a path to follow, I would still be normal and the person I had longed to become. But I'm not. And I can't go back in time. So I guess I'm stuck like this, imprisoned forever in my own machine.

That's how I see myself, actually. My brain is like a big bundle of thoughts, ideas and emotions and it uses my body, the machine, to do all the things my brain wants to do but can't. I wish there was some way to switch all my thoughts and ideas into a different body. Then I could start fresh, and not have to deal with all the nonsense I've created. I'd never have to deal with Ben or anyone else again. I could just move on with my life and make a new future for myself, one that simply, and sadly, isn't possible in the form of Alyssa-Jayne.

I've been crying for three days straight, and I keep getting a blood nose from bashing it into my bedpost (which has now snapped off). My stomach and back hurt. My head is throbbing. And he's warned me that within days he will do something so powerfully devastating that my entire life (if you could call it a life) will be turned upside down.
The thought that he has the force to do such a thing when I am already so low is really, truly hard to wrap my head around.

I'm on the very brink, and so close to falling off. But I don't think that anybody really understands the true gravity of my situation.

Not even myself.

Our Little World

Somewhere, waiting, yet undiscovered lands
Run with me there, with my heart in your hands
There’s a place where the rainbow really does end
And under that ninth cloud our lives we will spend
Where apples glow bright in a warm summer’s light
And fires glow warm in dead-cold winter nights
As creatures roam the enchanted woods
We’ll make daisy-chains and smile long, hard and good
Remember when fear was the heart of love?
Angry ghosts screaming down on me from high above
But pulled from the shadows I took your hand
And let you take me through the door to the newfound land
And it’s here that we’ll own ocean, land and the skies
All our power in gazes from true lovers’ eyes
Ripples on the lake from the heart-shaped rock hurled
Every wish that we make expands our fresh little world
We’ll fall asleep in our thoughts on beds made of stone
Smiling softly because, we’re no longer alone.

Veggie Tales

Well this is my second post today and I'm reporting on a very special incident that occured tonight. My mother and I braved the heavy winter rains and drove to Warringal shopping centre for a bit of light shopping.

Our aim was to collect ingredients necessary for our German cook out tomorrow night, primarily a loaf of Vienna/sourdough bread.

Whilst there, we decided to grab some fruit and veg for the week. Since I had brought my camera, I decided to document the trip by photographing (for the first time, up close and personal) my fruity local friends.

Warning: some images may contain undesirable content (greens). Viewer discretion is advised.





And then there was my precious bread roll. Now eaten, this baby just couldn't stay in the trolley. After her first tumble, I took a photo to remember her by before we got home and she went to the other side.

But she wasn't done yet! Ohhh no, she still had one more topple before we reached the car... this time on a less pleasant surface.


Anyhow now that you've longingly gazed at my lush apples, I'm off to bed.

Gute Nacht.

Pressure

I feel like the world is thrusting itself onto my shoulders and laughing as my weak stature crumbles beneath its mass.
Why does everything have to be so damn hard? School. Society. Health. Him. It's all overwhelming and I really do wonder how much longer I can just go on saying it'll all be okay, it'll work itself out.
My throat is raw and my back muscles feel like they've been pulverised. I am missing the last two periods of school thanks to my dear boyfriend whose only consistancy is making me feel awful. And on top of that I look forward to a long, lonely weekend.

Sometimes I wonder why I even bother with him. I try so hard to make him happy but he refuses to talk to me, to open up, to trust me. And I don't know if I can trust him anymore after everything that's occurred in the past one year, six months and 20 days.
Is love really enough to withstand the elements of such a hard, cruel world?

Anyway, I'll stop drilling your brain with my complaints and look on the bright side of things.

It is now just over 3 months before I leave my sleepy little home in Macleod for a 4-week study tour in Europe. It still seems a long way off, but no doubt November 18th will arrive sooner than I expect.

We'll stay mainly in Germany but also Austria and France. I am extremely anxious to try all the delicious German and Austrian food - if Ben's Oma's cooking is anything to go by, those Austrians sure know their 'Essen'. Of course, restaurants are never quite the same as eating at the homemade European feasts, the table set for six and catering for twenty, but when it comes to Wiener Schnitzel with Wiener Kartoffelnsalat and Knödel (that is, for you non-German-speaking folk, Viennese potato salad and dumplings), you simply can't go wrong.

It's all very exciting, so far we've paid $4500 out of something like $8000. I can't wait to go. I've only really been out of Victoria once, for a 5 day school camp in Canberra - which, by the way, was amazing - but this is international!
For 11 days we stay with a host family but for the remainder of the time we're in youth hostels etc. I will be spending some time with Ben's family over there, too; I'm pretty much as big a part of the Prosch family as he is.

Well that's all for now.