R.I.P Michael Jackson

I know, it's a bit late. Ah well. Better late than never.

I was born in the mid-90's, so I never really experienced the "Jackson phenomenon" as it were - I didn't really hear the music, just all the iffy things about him, like all those court cases and just how bizarre he was. I only fully started to appreciate his work last year.

In my old school we did this dancing programme every year - where we would all do a coordinated, cheographed dance to a popular pop hit from some point of time. In year seven, we did ours to "Smooth Criminal"

No one had actually heard and truly appreciated Michael Jackson at that point - at that time Michael Jackson was just some weirdo who dangled his newborn kids from balconies. But I loved Smooth Criminal. It had such a good feel to it, and it was really easy to dance with.

I've always been musical - music just runs through my blood. I'm no prodigy, and now that I've stopped playing full-time I'm not even very good - but it's still there - I still have my perfect pitch and everything. So dancing was easy as well - not super-complicated moves, but just simple things, like the dances we did at school.

My teacher said I was the best in the class - I only earned that title because I was one of the only people who was on beat - and instantly talk was up. I had a notorious reputation for being absolutely hopeless at sport - a well earned title, I think - and the dances were very strenuous. How the hell is she the best? She must have done something. Rumours ran riot.

This is the only part of Michael Jackson I will ever understand - having music 'flow' through you. The dances weren't that hard, because I was so into the music, it was like my shock-absorber - I only felt the stress and strain of it before and after the dance, never whilst I was actually dancing. Dancing is just so surreal.

I can never dance anything unchoreographed in front of a crowd though - I just can't break into super-cool moves without practice and advice. I wish I could. That's one of the trillions of things Michael Jackson can do that I can't.

Because I was born after the music hype, I've only ever known the cruelly-depicted image of a psychopath looney way past his expiry date. But now I see that Michael Jackson wasn't twisted - he was just weird, and terribly misunderstood. He's not normal, because he just can't be normal - he doesn't know what being normal is. And being normal is not Michael Jackson.

We are tough people - we only like something for a little while, then we start to abuse it. According to most, I was past my expiry date at the age of six and a half. I simply wasn't interesting anymore - or perhaps too interesting. So I got bullied. That's what happened to Michael Jackson.

And so a legend dies, trying to please a world that is never truly pleased. I always used to be jealous of child actors and people who got that big break early - but now I'm not. My big break will come - with time, patience, and with my own merit. But it will last, and it will die peacefully, timelessly.

Masculism

The advocacy of men's rights.

I actually find the whole thing a bit silly.

Sorry, but I do.

You see, women are discriminated against so much, it's ridiculous to think that men are mistreated compared to women. I mean, think of everything women go through that men don't, and then you'll see that men get it very, very lucky.

I mean, in some countries, men own women, men own all of a woman's property, women are not entitled to education, or are entitled to less education then men, women have extremely strict dress codes...

And then men say that they have it worse off.

This is why I'm a feminist.

Knowledge Writing is Power and Misogynists can go to Hell

Writing is power.

There is no power in solving a math problem, or inventing a new science formula. Seriously. True power lies in writing.

You see, you don't need any proof when you write stories, especially if it's your own story. I write what I see and no-one can challenge me here. Writers go to a lot of trouble and get into a lot of trouble to get a lot of other people into a lot of trouble as well.

Writing is an indestructable weapon - especially nowadays, because all you need to do is post something on a blog or MySpace or Twitter or whatever and the whole world knows about it. Other people just can't control it.

Need proof? I got it.

One of my new favourite books is Wild Swans, by Jung Chang. It is a family biography detailing the lives of her grandmother, her mother and herself, set in Communist Mao Zedong China. It details all the horrors of an oppressed, censored country controlled by a psychotic dictator. No one can dispute what she's writing, because it's primary material based on an eye witness account, and there is no evidence against it. Sure, it's banned in China, but that's not the point. The fact is, the whole world now has access to an exclusive portal into what China was really like. That's power you just can't buy.

The main elements of the story were human rights (the lack of them) and misogyny. Misogyny is something I just don't get.

I know most people attribute misogyny to a gross misinterpretation of the Bible or the Koran, but is that really it? Or is it just some lousy excuse that men conjure up?

After all, the Bible and the Koran were both written by men. Religion is one of the most prejudiced and biased things in the world.

But what is it with men and power? Men abuse power, men cannot control power, men simply cannot be *trusted* with power. History can tell us that. And when things go wrong, they blame women, they suppress women. Women are punished all around the world, in history and even to this day, simply for being women. They are punished for things they have no control over. And there is no shame in being a woman. Men should try being women. Just for one day. They should just for one miserable twenty-four hours experience the shit even the most fortunate and well off women have to put up with, and then they'd understand.

Men are the most selfish, biased hypocrites to walk this earth. A bunch of hairy men walk by, no-one lifts an eyebrow. A woman that forgets to shave for one week walks by, and immediately there are comparisons with gorillas. I mean, why do woman have to be skinny and pretty and perfect, only to be treated like shit? Men have things so good, all odds are for them, that anything other than complete and utter reverence towards women just throws the whole thing out of proportion.

If you are a guy and you have ever laughed at a girl for something that they have no control over, I hope you go to hell. Or that you're reincarnated into a woman.

Hey Guys. Back to Normal.

Sorry about the last post...I was a little...anyways. Back to normal now.

I've been back for a week and this week has been completely punishing. Luckily we only have one part of a week to go.

I am suffering from England withdrawal - I love England to bits. I love all the places, I love the atmosphere, and I love my family there - especially my cute-as-a-button two year old cousin, Elaine.

But seriously, it's like my school doesn't care about me anymore. In year ten, school starts to get 'serious' and you get more freedom in what you study - as in, you can chose which courses you take in cool subjects like Social Sciences and English, but in retarded subjects like Maths and Science they continue to control your life. I'm only chosing one year ten subject - English - but it's a hell of a lot of trouble, because next year I am actually a year nine except for English. And so we have to beat the system of different timetables and all of that and...and it's confusing. Tigger on Crack is supposed to be helping me with this, but I don't think he can be bothered, or that he has the brains, so yeah...

Things that Annoy Me.

Do you know what really annoys me? Stupid children. Not the ones that actually have a mental illness, they're okay, but I can't stand the ones that are just plain thick. Children, by definition, should be intelligent and inquisitive, and ask sensible questions out of curiousity. The only children who have the right not to do so are the ones who have autism or dementia or Down's Syndrome or whatever. Children that are thick and slow and ask stupid questions over and over again because their brain just can't wrap around the simplest things of life drive me crazy. Seriously. Mad.

Do you know what else annoys me? Teachers. Teaching is not something you do because you can't get another job, but that's what it is here. People who don't even pass high school are teaching the next generation - what is this world coming to? Teachers complain they don't get any respect, but seriously, most of them don't deserve it. Like my year coordinator who talks like Tigger on crack or my ******* teacher who looks like an albino orangutan. They think they're dictators, not teachers. They take no joy in teaching and we don't get any joy from learning, because we don't learn anything from them except what not to do.

You know what else annoys me? People who tell you off for doing something and then go ahead and do exactly what they told you off for. People do that to me all the time. What, just because I'm fat and Asian means that I can't do things that you can? Well, newsflash, everybody! I CAN.

And people who think I show off. For once and for all, I DO NOT SHOW OFF. I am the most insecure person I can think of and I've heard about Lily Allen. I don't show off, but I don't lie. What is the point of going around saying you're good at nothing if you're bloody good at something? Everyone else gets to go around saying 'look at me I'm so damn brilliant' and I'm not allowed to say 'hey I can write but I can't do anything else' in my head.

And all those movies who follow one of two storylines - guy gets the girl and saves the world, or poor girl with an evil stepfamily gets married to a prince and lives happily ever after. Seriously. When does that ever happen? Guys just don't have the brains, or the guts, to save the world - and who would want to hook up with someone that wears his underpants over his pants, which are actually tights he stole from the fat ladies lingerie store? And since when do poor girls with evil stepfamilies ever marry princes? And who wants to marry a prince anyway? Princes are ugly pompous bastards and normal boys are even worse - they fry your head and poach your heart and then say it's all your fault. Boys take everything and give nothing back. They want to know everything and they tell you nothing. They expect you to fall head over heels in love with them and then laugh at you because you're fat and ugly. Men created the Genesis, who blamed everything on women, oh, yes, the women did this, the women did that, lets burn them, behead them, drown them in the river, if something's not right they just can't take it, and if we can't fix it we get the blame, and even if we can they'll get all the fame. God is a man, Jesus is a man, everyone of note is a man, and all female saints obey men. What is it with men? I wouldn't mind if men were angels, but they're not. They're demons from hell who break hearts and destroy lives.

But the absolute worst are the people that say that I make excuses. Most of my excuses are legimate reasons, they just can't get their stupid nonexistant brains around it. I've always done something bad, always. They just can't take it if I've done something good. I'm always in the wrong. They just have to make it out that I'm lying to them, that I've cheated them, that somehow they've ended up worse off. And the very tiny percentage of my 'excuses' that are actual excuses, who cares? Everyone makes excuses - all the time. So why do I have to be the little angel that doesn't? I never pretended to be perfect, so why do they expect me to be? Why does everyone else get let off the hook and I'm in the spotlight - the wrong spotlight?

Hey guys! (I'm in Perth!)

Yeah, the other Perth, that is. In Scotland.

This is going to be really quick because the miniscule laptop is about to crash. I'm in a diner where we had lunch before continuing our road trip to Loch Ness - d'you reckon I'll see the monster? I dunno.

I'll blog again when I get back to England, and to a computer that's bigger than three inches.

I love you guys!

P.S my cousins are so cute. I want to eat them.

Hellooooooooo everyboday!

England.

Food.

Score.

The food in Turkey - I won't bull about it. It was horrible. Here food is...goood.

I'm blogging in the middle of the night - seriously, it's 1:51am - at my uncle's place about an hour and a half out of London. My little baby cousin, Elaine, who's only two, is crying in the background with a pineapple tongue, poor thing. Dennis, who's five, is upstairs - he crashed first at about eleven - and Cynthia, my other cousin and Dennis and Elaine's eldest sister, is fast asleep on the couch - she's nearly eight but is smaller than the five year old.

I love it here - but I hate the weather. It's meant to be summer, for goodness sake. I mean, I know I can't expect baking hot suns with icy cold mocktails on a sparkling pristine beach (Australiaaaa....) but, you know, you would expect something a bit over 15 degrees (59 fahrenheit).

Gah. Good luck.

Why am I blogging in the middle of the night? Well, we're leaving to Scotland in about an hour (to dodge the morning traffic and to get there before nightfall, because it takes forever) and in theory we're meant to keep the kids up until we're about to go so that they'll fall asleep in the car and won't fuss. In theory. In practice one's screaming and the other two - well, three including my sister - are fast asleep, and all five of us are going to be completely gaga on the way to Scotland.

We just got here the day before yesterday, so we haven't seen much - we've done quite a bit of shopping but that's it really. I'll keep you updated on that later.

To wrap up my broadcast from Turkey - very exciting. On the day of my last post I was checked in to the hospital (if I don't get any comments than you guys seriously don't love me anymore) because I stopped responding to painkillers and my mum was freaked out. The taxi dumped us in the middle of nowhere so we had to walk about half of the way to the hospital, where they said I had a throat infection. Then they sent me to have a blood test.

For those of you who don't know. I hate pins. Hate, hate, hate. I hate pins more than my ****** teacher and MW and my ex boyfriend and those bitches who's life goal is to spread every fake rumour about me to the entire cosmos. I hate, hate, HATE pins.

Do you know why? Well, here's why. I spend a lot of time in hospital - every time I come down with a fever at some inconvenient time and the local doctor is shut, I wind up in hospital. Hospital means pins and needles and scary equipment and lumpy beds and horrible food and muted, censored TVs. Hospital means pins.

That's why I hate pins.

Last year everyone found it very amusing to take off their Student Council badges and tease me with them - I'm not sure what they found so funny, because pins make me scream and cry and when I scream and cry it's not a pretty sight. Very mature Student Councillors. One of them was BSC.

I finally got the bloodtest, and I hated every minute of it - I don't know why they tell kids that these things don't hurt when they do - violation of youth rights, honestly - and in the end there was nothing bloody wrong with my bloody blood. So I had to do all that shit for nothing.

Then they said I needed antibiotics and painkillers for my throat infection - and that the antibiotics could be one needle or a full course of oral tablets. I was all in for the tablets until mum tried to convince me to get the jab. I don't know how she did it - it involved lots of Gloria Jeans, I think, and then I finally agreed.

I hated it. Hate, hate, hate. They spray this awful things on your ass - yeah, I got the jab on my bum, how primitive - that's meant to numb the skin. Bloody didn't work.

I'll spare you the gory details, but I was glad when it was over. Actually, no I wasn't, because they said they weren't gonna jab me and then they jabbed me as they said it, so I was peeved off and in pain - but anyways, back to the story.

The next day - under the influence of Advil - we went to the Blue Mosque, Hagia Sophia and Topaki Palace.

Topaki Palace is this huge, ancient castle done in the classic Ottoman style, that used to be the home of the Sultans. The Blue Mosque is also Ottoman, and is one of the biggest and grandest mosques -and it's still a working mosque. It was calm, peaceful and quiet in there. Hagia Sophia is a church turned mosque turned museum - with Helenistic, modern, ancient and Ottoman bits and pieces everywhere. So cool.

Then we went to the Bazaars - The Grand Bazaar and the Spice Market, or the Egyptian Bazaare. We heard so many bad things about the Grand Bazaar - of pickpockets and bagslashers and cheats and bagsnatchers -that we walked straight through, clutching our bags for dear life. The shop keepers were overly polite it was rude and very forward. The Spice Market was much more enjoyable, so we bought trinkets and Turkish Delight - yes Maddie, there's a box for you - and Turkish tea.

Then all the boring stuff, went back to the hotel, fell asleep, woke up, packed, checked out, boarded the plane...and now we're in England.

More soon. I love you guys.

Broadcasting from Turkey!

Hey guys!

I'm in Turkey at the moment - sorry there hasn't been any new posts in a while, but I hate the miniscule laptop so I'm blogging from the only computer in the lobby of my hotel.

We left Perth at four in the morning to get on a six o clock plane to Dubai, which took like TEN FRIGGIN HOURS MAN - we flew Emirates and it had like loads of movies and stuff, it was awesome - I watched Twilight (twice), The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, The Chronicles of Narnia (again) and Friends. Then we went on another Emirates flight from Dubai to London, and I watched Friends and Frasier, Changeling and possibly Twilight again, I can't remember.

We stayed overnight in London in a hotel called 'Premier Inn' in Heathrow, which was really quite good - the food was AWESOME MAN. Then we went on a British Airlines flight from London to Istanbul, where I am now. The British Airlines plane was really old - There wasn't individual screens, so they played this Emma Thompson and Dustin Hoffman movie, this American comedy soapie with Kelsey Grammar and the Simpsons. Then we got to Istanbul.

We're in Istanbul for mum's work, so we got picked up and driven to our hotel in a shuttle, which was cool - I'm not used to getting picked up at the hotel by people who hold signs up with your name on them. We're staying at this place called the Germir Palas Hotel, which is awesome - the deco is like burlesque England - think Atonement, The Edge of Love, that kind of thing.

The food is - interesting, I suppose. We have buffet for breakfast in the hotel, which has the best fruit - every day we eat ourselves sick on strawberries, cherries and kiwi fruits. Turkish coffee is nice and Turkish chai tea is even nicer, although they're very strong - stronger than the stuff we get in Australia. We eat at local diners near our hotel, although not all of the food agrees with us - actually, now I'm blogging and trying very hard not to think about what we had for dinner last night, because it's not sitting too well in my stomach. The food here is very nice, but a little greasy - okay, very greasy. Fresh fruit is plentiful, although vegetables are practically unheard of - we asked if we could have some veggies last night and we were served french fries. Everything is cooked in ghee - which is like melted butter, I think.

The shopping here is amazing - we're going on massive shopping sprees because the lira is weaker than the Australian dollar so everything is cheaper. I've gotten a Turkish scarf - cashmere, I think, or it could be visicose or something like that - with a Turkish carpet design on it. It's pink with green and cream, and I love it to bits. I got a glass bead necklace as well, and some totally awesome red flats decorated with flowers - I'm wearing them now, and I love them. I've always wanted bright red shiny flats (like Dorothy's in the Wizard of Oz) but they're kind of expensive in Australia and the red is like orangey and I like deep reds. These shoes are totally awesome, they look the best when they don't match with your outfit - I'm wearing a white shirt with blue, silver and yellow floral decorations and grey cargo pants and the shoes stand out like bright red lipstick.

One thing that is absolutely huge here are Evil Eyes - it's like a glass bead which is painted to look like a bright blue eye, to keep away bad demons. They're everywhere, and I mean everywhere - no street jewellery seller worth his salt would not have some kind of Evil Eye for sale. They come in dark blue, red, green and turquoise, and are sold in key rings, tassels, home decorations, necklaces, bracelets, amulets, anklets, rings and tiny ones are on safety pins - they're pinned to every pillow in the hotel, it's bizarre.

We haven't done an awful lot of sight seeing, because we've just gotten here - and we're not going anywhere today because I feel sick. But we're going to the Blue Mosque, on a river cruise, to the Basilisk Resevoir and other places, and we've already been shopping in Taksim Square.

There are street vendors everywhere - selling jewellery, Evil Eyes, bread, fish, ice cream and corn, boiled or char grilled. The traffic is completely mad - taxis and cars honk their horn for anything at anytime - even just for fun, I suspect. Street signs are few and far between, and mostly ignored, and there are probably more taxis (spelt TAKSi) then normal cars. There are millions of hotels in Taksim Square, and tons of restaurants - maitre'ds stand outside them and try to lure us in with broken English. Most shop owners, restauranteers and hotel staff speak some degree of English - some better than others. It's actually not that hard to make yourself understood here. To attract our attention, they call out in Turkish, then Arabic, and then English - some have also tried Japanese because we are Asian. When we say we're from Australia we get some funny looks, because we don't really look Australian - some have asked us whether we're Aboriginal (lol) and one guy slanted his eyes questioningly, it was so funny.

Men are everywhere - in women's clothing stores, in lingerie and swimsuit stores, in makeup stores and in hairdressing salons - hardly any women work in these kind of places, it's bizarre. Even the person who cleans our hotel room is a guy, which was actually quite weird.

Everyone smokes here, especially the men - the saying is 'Who smokes more than a Turk? Two Turks', and that is so totally true. In Australia, not that many people smoke at all, and they're either down in the dumps or trying to quit, and are generally frowned upon. In Australia, there are anti-smoking campaigns and cancer awareness posters everywhere, but here in Turkey they are non-existant.

I'll blog again about the Mosques and Bazaars we're going to go to in the next couple of days, and hopefully I'll be able to blog whilst I'm in England.

One message to all the Perth Mod Gods: any important information, like gossip and stuff about the Tim Winton competition, EMAIL ME - I check my inbox whenever I can. Or you can post a comment here.

I luv yaz all, and I wish you were all here with me.