Remember that time,
When you just wanted to grow up to be a big girl?
When you didn't know anything about this big scary world.
Remember that time,
When all you wanted was an 'A' grade?
When you didn't know that it was the ditzy girls who had it made.
I want to go back to that time,
That time that has slipped away.
I want to go back to that time when it was okay to make a mistake.
I want to go back to that time,
That time when I didn't know half of what I know now,
Because half of what I know now is
That people break hearts and people aren't nice,
And you've got to learn how to bitch back.
Now I know that you've got to watch your back,
And you've always got to be ready for a surprise attack.
Now I know that there's nobody I can trust,
I want to go back to that time,
When I didn't need to know.
Remember that time,
When love was getting hugs from mum?
When you didn't know that there are these other things called boys.
Remember that time,
When all you dreamed of in the world was chocolate cake?
When you would have laughed yourself silly if someone said something like 'heartbreak'.
I want to go back to that time,
That time that has slipped away.
I want to go back to that time when it was okay to make a mistake.
I want to go back to that time,
That time when I didn't know half of what I know now,
Because half of what I know now is
That people break hearts and people aren't nice,
And you've got to learn how to bitch back.
Now I know that you've got to watch your back,
And you've always got to be ready for a surprise attack.
Now I know that there's nobody I can trust,
I want to go back to that time,
When I didn't need to know.
I want to go back to that time,
When I could be comforted by an 'it's gonna be okay'.
I would go back to that time,
If I had it my way.
I don't know why I tried to rush out of that,
Because now I'm trying to force myself back in.
But that's life, I guess,
You don't know until you lose,
Exactly what you win.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Sometimes I feel like the only weak one.
I was five when the 9/11 attacks happened in 2001.
Since then, every day on the news I would hear about American soldiers dying in places like Iraq and Afghanistan.
To be honest, it didn't mean much to me. When you hear about death like that, all the time, every day, it just flies past you. When you're five you're too impatient to be worried about what the grey-haired lady is saying on the TV. I didn't even know where America or Iraq or Afghanistan was or what the hell was going on. I thought 9/11 was just some scary movie mum was watching when I wanted to watch Play School.
Now that I'm older and I sort of understand what's going on, I'm horrified that I've been hardened towards death. I hear about people dying left right centre - war, random murders involving God-willed decapitation, etc. It flies past me now. It's like that for all of us, all of us who have seen and heard of this Iraq War before we were old enough to understand, whilst we were young enough to become immune to death.
We watched a documentary on the events of 9/11 in year seven, and it scared the living daylights out of me - it was the first time that this war hit home, for some reason - the smoke, fire, panic of the dramatic re-enactment and the stock footage of the actual event. My classmates watched deadpan, expressionless, even bored, watching something that claimed so many lives.
I just feel like we've been hardened against something we really should fear, immunized from something we really should experienced. I think we're being protected from what we really should know.
Since then, every day on the news I would hear about American soldiers dying in places like Iraq and Afghanistan.
To be honest, it didn't mean much to me. When you hear about death like that, all the time, every day, it just flies past you. When you're five you're too impatient to be worried about what the grey-haired lady is saying on the TV. I didn't even know where America or Iraq or Afghanistan was or what the hell was going on. I thought 9/11 was just some scary movie mum was watching when I wanted to watch Play School.
Now that I'm older and I sort of understand what's going on, I'm horrified that I've been hardened towards death. I hear about people dying left right centre - war, random murders involving God-willed decapitation, etc. It flies past me now. It's like that for all of us, all of us who have seen and heard of this Iraq War before we were old enough to understand, whilst we were young enough to become immune to death.
We watched a documentary on the events of 9/11 in year seven, and it scared the living daylights out of me - it was the first time that this war hit home, for some reason - the smoke, fire, panic of the dramatic re-enactment and the stock footage of the actual event. My classmates watched deadpan, expressionless, even bored, watching something that claimed so many lives.
I just feel like we've been hardened against something we really should fear, immunized from something we really should experienced. I think we're being protected from what we really should know.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
What We've Become
It's been a long time
Since you smiled at me,
Sometimes I find myself missing you.
It's been a long time,
Since I laughed with you,
Before you made everyone laugh at me.
And so here we are,
Smiling over what made me cry,
We gotta put our poker faces on, you know why.
I know you've gotta be a man to your mates,
And even though I'm a girl I don't get much of a leeway.
The schoolyard is not a place to breakdown,
Even though it's such an emotional battleground.
I don't like what we've become,
If we could start over again what would you have done?
You say something cruel to me,
I smile, try to take it lightly,
I like to think that you wouldn't if you didn't have to.
I counter all your mean remarks,
I know my words are like knives and they'll leave a scar,
But no matter why you fight I've still got to fight back.
And so here we are,
Trying to make each other cry,
We gotta put our poker faces on, you know why.
I know you've gotta be a man to your mates,
And part of the job description is heartbreak.
The schoolyard is not a place to breakdown,
Even though it's such an emotional battleground.
I don't like what we've become,
But I don't know what else I could have done.
It's so sad you still know how to be so cold,
I wonder what happened to my little boy,
I guess he got tougher as he grew old.
We're still connected by a thread we try to break.
Because no matter what we do,
We're still bound by what we went through,
And my only comfort is that no matter how bitter we are,
There was once a time when we had fun.
And so here we are,
Smiling over what made me cry,
We gotta put our poker faces on, you know why.
I know you've gotta be a man to your mates,
And even though I'm a girl I don't get much of a leeway.
The schoolyard is not a place to breakdown,
Even though it's such an emotional battleground.
I don't like what we've become,
If we could start over again what would you have done?
And so here we are,
Trying to make each other cry,
We gotta put our poker faces on, you know why.
I know you've gotta be a man to your mates,
And part of the job description is heartbreak.
The schoolyard is not a place to breakdown,
Even though it's such an emotional battleground.
I don't like what we've become,
But I don't know what else I could have done.
There was a time of innocence,
Do you remember that?
I think this is too high a price to pay for a few moments of joy.
We've become so cold now,
Forever trying to stab each other's backs.
Do you remember when we used to be friends?
Can you remember that,
Before we became this?
And so here we are,
So childish it makes me cry,
They ask too much of us, I don't know why.
I know you've gotta be a man to your mates,
You've got to paint me as the bitch who got it her way.
I still think what happened was unfair,
But I know I can't change what happened whilst we still have to pretend we don't care.
I don't like what we've become,
If we could start over again what would you have done?
Do you know what we've become?
If you knew this was how it was going to end what would you have done?
I'd like to think you just made some stupid mistakes,
And this is the price I have to pay for your ridiculously high stakes.
I don't like what we've come,
But I don't know what else I could have done.
Since you smiled at me,
Sometimes I find myself missing you.
It's been a long time,
Since I laughed with you,
Before you made everyone laugh at me.
And so here we are,
Smiling over what made me cry,
We gotta put our poker faces on, you know why.
I know you've gotta be a man to your mates,
And even though I'm a girl I don't get much of a leeway.
The schoolyard is not a place to breakdown,
Even though it's such an emotional battleground.
I don't like what we've become,
If we could start over again what would you have done?
You say something cruel to me,
I smile, try to take it lightly,
I like to think that you wouldn't if you didn't have to.
I counter all your mean remarks,
I know my words are like knives and they'll leave a scar,
But no matter why you fight I've still got to fight back.
And so here we are,
Trying to make each other cry,
We gotta put our poker faces on, you know why.
I know you've gotta be a man to your mates,
And part of the job description is heartbreak.
The schoolyard is not a place to breakdown,
Even though it's such an emotional battleground.
I don't like what we've become,
But I don't know what else I could have done.
It's so sad you still know how to be so cold,
I wonder what happened to my little boy,
I guess he got tougher as he grew old.
We're still connected by a thread we try to break.
Because no matter what we do,
We're still bound by what we went through,
And my only comfort is that no matter how bitter we are,
There was once a time when we had fun.
And so here we are,
Smiling over what made me cry,
We gotta put our poker faces on, you know why.
I know you've gotta be a man to your mates,
And even though I'm a girl I don't get much of a leeway.
The schoolyard is not a place to breakdown,
Even though it's such an emotional battleground.
I don't like what we've become,
If we could start over again what would you have done?
And so here we are,
Trying to make each other cry,
We gotta put our poker faces on, you know why.
I know you've gotta be a man to your mates,
And part of the job description is heartbreak.
The schoolyard is not a place to breakdown,
Even though it's such an emotional battleground.
I don't like what we've become,
But I don't know what else I could have done.
There was a time of innocence,
Do you remember that?
I think this is too high a price to pay for a few moments of joy.
We've become so cold now,
Forever trying to stab each other's backs.
Do you remember when we used to be friends?
Can you remember that,
Before we became this?
And so here we are,
So childish it makes me cry,
They ask too much of us, I don't know why.
I know you've gotta be a man to your mates,
You've got to paint me as the bitch who got it her way.
I still think what happened was unfair,
But I know I can't change what happened whilst we still have to pretend we don't care.
I don't like what we've become,
If we could start over again what would you have done?
Do you know what we've become?
If you knew this was how it was going to end what would you have done?
I'd like to think you just made some stupid mistakes,
And this is the price I have to pay for your ridiculously high stakes.
I don't like what we've come,
But I don't know what else I could have done.
But I do.
A million of them,
Too many to ignore,
When you're not the winner you always want more.
Both judge and prize...
Maybe next time.
Shouldn't want,
But I do.
Too many to ignore,
When you're not the winner you always want more.
Both judge and prize...
Maybe next time.
Shouldn't want,
But I do.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
The Seventh Grade
I'm so glad you made time to see me,
How's life, tell me how's your family,
I haven't seen them in a while.
I guess you could say that I've been good,
Busier than ever,
We small talk,
Working the weather,
It's getting awkward and we both know why.
Because the last time you saw me we were getting out of seventh grade,
I had my mind set on the future and I threw my past away,
I should have known there was something good about the bad.
So this is me swallowing my pride,
And admitting that since those days nothing has really been right.
And I go back to the seventh grade all the time.
What's the point of freedom if I can't share it with you,
You can't share joy with people who are so cold to you,
Sometimes I wish I could go back to the seventh grade one more time.
Sometimes I stay up playing back,
All those silly things we used to say,
When we were playground sisters I felt so safe.
It didn't matter what those boys did to me,
Or how all those teachers turned around and betrayed me,
I knew that with my friends everything would be okay.
But I spent all my time with you dreaming of a sweet escape,
Things are good now but with you they'd be so great,
If only I could still be with you.
So this is me swallowing my pride,
And admitting that I haven't found your current-day counterparts.
And I go back to the seventh grade all the time.
I'm stuck in the past,
Not enjoying the present without you,
I haven't moved on,
Like I know I should do,
Sometimes I wish I could go back to the seventh grade one more time.
I'm just saying,
I haven't found anyone good enough to replace you,
We were a Gang of Four,
And now I'm a Gang of Nobody,
Revenge is not as sweet without you.
I'm just saying,
Life's going great now,
I just with that you could see me now,
I wish we could erase the distance.
Victory is not the same,
When there's nobody to cheer you on.
I wish we could go back to the days,
When I was there for you,
And you were there for me.
So this is me swallowing my pride,
And admitting that since those days nothing has really been right.
And I go back to the seventh grade all the time.
What's the point of freedom if I can't share it with you,
You can't share joy with people who are so cold to you,
Sometimes I wish I could go back to the seventh grade one more time.
So this is me swallowing my pride,
And admitting that I haven't found your current-day counterparts.
And I go back to the seventh grade all the time.
I'm stuck in the past,
Not enjoying the present without you,
I haven't moved on,
Like I know I should do,
Sometimes I wish I could go back to the seventh grade one more time.
And I go back to the seventh grade all the time.
I forgot to add that this poem was inspired by the amazing new song off Taylor Swift's new album Speak Now - 'Back To December'.
How's life, tell me how's your family,
I haven't seen them in a while.
I guess you could say that I've been good,
Busier than ever,
We small talk,
Working the weather,
It's getting awkward and we both know why.
Because the last time you saw me we were getting out of seventh grade,
I had my mind set on the future and I threw my past away,
I should have known there was something good about the bad.
So this is me swallowing my pride,
And admitting that since those days nothing has really been right.
And I go back to the seventh grade all the time.
What's the point of freedom if I can't share it with you,
You can't share joy with people who are so cold to you,
Sometimes I wish I could go back to the seventh grade one more time.
Sometimes I stay up playing back,
All those silly things we used to say,
When we were playground sisters I felt so safe.
It didn't matter what those boys did to me,
Or how all those teachers turned around and betrayed me,
I knew that with my friends everything would be okay.
But I spent all my time with you dreaming of a sweet escape,
Things are good now but with you they'd be so great,
If only I could still be with you.
So this is me swallowing my pride,
And admitting that I haven't found your current-day counterparts.
And I go back to the seventh grade all the time.
I'm stuck in the past,
Not enjoying the present without you,
I haven't moved on,
Like I know I should do,
Sometimes I wish I could go back to the seventh grade one more time.
I'm just saying,
I haven't found anyone good enough to replace you,
We were a Gang of Four,
And now I'm a Gang of Nobody,
Revenge is not as sweet without you.
I'm just saying,
Life's going great now,
I just with that you could see me now,
I wish we could erase the distance.
Victory is not the same,
When there's nobody to cheer you on.
I wish we could go back to the days,
When I was there for you,
And you were there for me.
So this is me swallowing my pride,
And admitting that since those days nothing has really been right.
And I go back to the seventh grade all the time.
What's the point of freedom if I can't share it with you,
You can't share joy with people who are so cold to you,
Sometimes I wish I could go back to the seventh grade one more time.
So this is me swallowing my pride,
And admitting that I haven't found your current-day counterparts.
And I go back to the seventh grade all the time.
I'm stuck in the past,
Not enjoying the present without you,
I haven't moved on,
Like I know I should do,
Sometimes I wish I could go back to the seventh grade one more time.
And I go back to the seventh grade all the time.
I forgot to add that this poem was inspired by the amazing new song off Taylor Swift's new album Speak Now - 'Back To December'.
New Zealand Mine Disaster.
My heart goes out to our Kiwi brothers affected by the recent New Zealand Mine Disaster. May those who died rest in peace and may their friends and family find the courage to find peace and move on. I applaud those who attempted the rescue and I pray that others are not harmed during the recovery procedures.
L. Renegade.
L. Renegade.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
faith or reason?
The reason why I am opposed to religion is that I believe that it does more harm than good.
The pure base of religion is lovely. If you believe in God and do good in your life you go to heaven. If you don't, you go to hell. Something like that. It should be a nice way to keep crime rates down.
But people who are so deeply and profoundly religious risk losing all sense of reason. Such as slaughtering unbelievers, to the more mundane - not allowing Sunday trading, banning their children from Harry Potter, and then back to the important - stances against blacks, women, homosexuals, unbelievers, etc. The problem with religion is that once it controls your life sufficiently enough to deprive you of all common sense, you start to try and control other people in ways that one human being should not control another.
I read Harry Potter. I support women's rights and gays and Sunday trading. It's called COMMON SENSE. I read Harry Potter because I like it. I support women's rights and gays because I have made a conscious decision that it is a right and important thing to do. I support Sunday trading because yes, I do need to eat on Sundays, too. God is not the be all and end all of everything.
As atheist as I am, I try not to impose my beliefs onto others, unless their beliefs obstruct mine in a way I believe to be unreasonable. I'm a big believer in doing whatever you want, as long as it doesn't affect other people. Which means I don't support people trying to make a universal ban on Harry Potter - in fact, I don't even advocate parents banning their children from reading it, because children are human beings too, you know, and have the right to have a say in what they do.
I don't approve of people, religious or not, making outlandish claims and having the audacity to bother federal courts who have better things to worry about than whether or not Harry Potter supports Satan. It is because of these people all religious people look ridiculous. It doesn't matter what family, religion, ethnicity, community you belong to, once you belong to it, you represent it in all that you do. Which is why I can't stand Asians acting weird because it gives all of us a bad name.
We have a civic duty to protect the rights and liberties of all people on earth. The impinge on another man's rights is the greatest crime of all.
The pure base of religion is lovely. If you believe in God and do good in your life you go to heaven. If you don't, you go to hell. Something like that. It should be a nice way to keep crime rates down.
But people who are so deeply and profoundly religious risk losing all sense of reason. Such as slaughtering unbelievers, to the more mundane - not allowing Sunday trading, banning their children from Harry Potter, and then back to the important - stances against blacks, women, homosexuals, unbelievers, etc. The problem with religion is that once it controls your life sufficiently enough to deprive you of all common sense, you start to try and control other people in ways that one human being should not control another.
I read Harry Potter. I support women's rights and gays and Sunday trading. It's called COMMON SENSE. I read Harry Potter because I like it. I support women's rights and gays because I have made a conscious decision that it is a right and important thing to do. I support Sunday trading because yes, I do need to eat on Sundays, too. God is not the be all and end all of everything.
As atheist as I am, I try not to impose my beliefs onto others, unless their beliefs obstruct mine in a way I believe to be unreasonable. I'm a big believer in doing whatever you want, as long as it doesn't affect other people. Which means I don't support people trying to make a universal ban on Harry Potter - in fact, I don't even advocate parents banning their children from reading it, because children are human beings too, you know, and have the right to have a say in what they do.
I don't approve of people, religious or not, making outlandish claims and having the audacity to bother federal courts who have better things to worry about than whether or not Harry Potter supports Satan. It is because of these people all religious people look ridiculous. It doesn't matter what family, religion, ethnicity, community you belong to, once you belong to it, you represent it in all that you do. Which is why I can't stand Asians acting weird because it gives all of us a bad name.
We have a civic duty to protect the rights and liberties of all people on earth. The impinge on another man's rights is the greatest crime of all.
Monday, November 22, 2010
it's very rude to say kiss my ass, so i'll say...embrace my derriere.
Bubblegum.
Red lipstick.
Bikinis.
Halina dresses.
Heels.
Pink gloss.
Mascara.
Kiss ass this summer.
Red lipstick.
Bikinis.
Halina dresses.
Heels.
Pink gloss.
Mascara.
Kiss ass this summer.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
the kid is smart. why is it failing?
There is a common misconception that smart kids shouldn't fail in easy work because it is, well, easy for them, and they'll finish in no time at all. And so, it is only right for harder work to be given after they have complete easy/standard tasks.
Not so.
Some of the worst marks I have received when I was little were subjects I was actually quite good at - and for a variety of reasons - so that the gap between my spelling and maths tests wasn't big (I always had this idea in my head that if I was doing badly at the subjects my parents knew I was good at they wouldn't be too fussed about my bad math marks), so that my marks were comparable to the rest of the kids, because it was an act of rebellion, and of curiousity - what does it feel like to fail a spelling test?
But most of the reason is pure boredom.
It may seem reasonable to expect a kid who is very good at English to finish the easy stuff that you know it can do with it's eyes shut in about three seconds, and then you can dig out some harder work.
But what sense does that make? I cottonned on pretty quick that the teachers knew that I was beyond some of the stuff in class, and so I reasoned that the only reason that they could possibly be giving this crap to me is because they hate me and want to make me suffer. The world hates me. Wah. If you know a kid can do it, why make them do it again? I always used to hate it when the grade three teacher would give us grade two work and say 'just checking that you know it still.' It never made any sense to me.
From your point of view, the kid should spend fifteen minutes at most on this 'easy stuff' that they 'simply must do'. Fifteen miserable minutes. Is that too much to ask?
The answer? Yes.
Think of it from a child's point of view. When I was younger, days seemed to last for a milennia - and because when you're younger, a single day is a much larger percentage of your entire life than it is when you're older. A bored seven year old wasting fifteen minutes of his life doing shit he hates is like an adult wasting three hours before getting to the 'good stuff'.
And then, as you get older and fifteen minutes may not seem like a century, you start feeling like you're running out of time. Why should I waste my time on this? I should be out conquering the world! Teenagers and older children start to see school as a barrier between them and a life - and that is true for even the most academic who really must rely on education to have any sort of quality of life - a year or so ago I told my mother, much to her utter shock, that I was dropping out of school the second I turned 16 - the legal age to drop out in Australia. Giving boring work during school further fuels this belief that school is a sadistic invention of adults designed to torture the younger generation.
A kid, or anyone, for that matter, is not programmed to accept work that is too hard or too easy for them - by 'too hard' I mean beyond challenging and into the frightening realms of 'impossible', and by 'too easy' I mean something that is not quick and simple but long and fidgety and boring. Boredom has been a large element in my schooling, and I resent that - primary school was basically made up of English that was too easy, maths that was too hard and sport that was simply useless. When a kid faces twelve years locked up in an institution they sometimes have a very bleak view of life and of adults. Teachers are the saddest people with the most pathetic social lives or IQ - and these are the adults that we most frequently associate with.
Right now I'm slightly pissed off, even though I know I shouldn't be - I managed to wriggle my way out of math and science FOREVER. But the source of my annoyance is that I am still forced to endure it for three weeks. Three weeks is too long a time for me, a teenager, to endure tolerably, but it is not long enough to learn anything particularly useful. So, I wonder, why bother? Why not let me live my utopia now? Why must I wait through something hard and boring for something I want? That is the topic, dear reader, of this rant.
So next time you say 'Finish this off and I'll give you some harder/easier/funner work.' Have mercy. The only thing worse than hard work is boring work, because boring work is an utter waste of time. If I dropped dead right now all I could boast of is half a life wasted on math sums.
Not so.
Some of the worst marks I have received when I was little were subjects I was actually quite good at - and for a variety of reasons - so that the gap between my spelling and maths tests wasn't big (I always had this idea in my head that if I was doing badly at the subjects my parents knew I was good at they wouldn't be too fussed about my bad math marks), so that my marks were comparable to the rest of the kids, because it was an act of rebellion, and of curiousity - what does it feel like to fail a spelling test?
But most of the reason is pure boredom.
It may seem reasonable to expect a kid who is very good at English to finish the easy stuff that you know it can do with it's eyes shut in about three seconds, and then you can dig out some harder work.
But what sense does that make? I cottonned on pretty quick that the teachers knew that I was beyond some of the stuff in class, and so I reasoned that the only reason that they could possibly be giving this crap to me is because they hate me and want to make me suffer. The world hates me. Wah. If you know a kid can do it, why make them do it again? I always used to hate it when the grade three teacher would give us grade two work and say 'just checking that you know it still.' It never made any sense to me.
From your point of view, the kid should spend fifteen minutes at most on this 'easy stuff' that they 'simply must do'. Fifteen miserable minutes. Is that too much to ask?
The answer? Yes.
Think of it from a child's point of view. When I was younger, days seemed to last for a milennia - and because when you're younger, a single day is a much larger percentage of your entire life than it is when you're older. A bored seven year old wasting fifteen minutes of his life doing shit he hates is like an adult wasting three hours before getting to the 'good stuff'.
And then, as you get older and fifteen minutes may not seem like a century, you start feeling like you're running out of time. Why should I waste my time on this? I should be out conquering the world! Teenagers and older children start to see school as a barrier between them and a life - and that is true for even the most academic who really must rely on education to have any sort of quality of life - a year or so ago I told my mother, much to her utter shock, that I was dropping out of school the second I turned 16 - the legal age to drop out in Australia. Giving boring work during school further fuels this belief that school is a sadistic invention of adults designed to torture the younger generation.
A kid, or anyone, for that matter, is not programmed to accept work that is too hard or too easy for them - by 'too hard' I mean beyond challenging and into the frightening realms of 'impossible', and by 'too easy' I mean something that is not quick and simple but long and fidgety and boring. Boredom has been a large element in my schooling, and I resent that - primary school was basically made up of English that was too easy, maths that was too hard and sport that was simply useless. When a kid faces twelve years locked up in an institution they sometimes have a very bleak view of life and of adults. Teachers are the saddest people with the most pathetic social lives or IQ - and these are the adults that we most frequently associate with.
Right now I'm slightly pissed off, even though I know I shouldn't be - I managed to wriggle my way out of math and science FOREVER. But the source of my annoyance is that I am still forced to endure it for three weeks. Three weeks is too long a time for me, a teenager, to endure tolerably, but it is not long enough to learn anything particularly useful. So, I wonder, why bother? Why not let me live my utopia now? Why must I wait through something hard and boring for something I want? That is the topic, dear reader, of this rant.
So next time you say 'Finish this off and I'll give you some harder/easier/funner work.' Have mercy. The only thing worse than hard work is boring work, because boring work is an utter waste of time. If I dropped dead right now all I could boast of is half a life wasted on math sums.
Songs that Make Me Happy
1. Just The Way You Are - Bruno Mars
2. Nothin' On You - B.o.B ft. Bruno Mars
3. Firework - Katy Perry
4. Peacock - Katy Perry
5. Big Girls (You Are Beautiful) - MIKA
6. So Yesterday - Hilary Duff
7. Picture to Burn - Taylor Swift
8. Mean - Taylor Swift
10. Mine - Taylor Swift
11. Teenage Dream - Katy Perry
12. Only Girl (In The World) - Rihanna
13. Speak Now - Taylor Swift
14. Bitch - Meredith Brookes
15. Honey to the B - Billie (Piper)
16. Irreplaceable - Beyonce
17. Halo - Beyonce
18. Single Ladies - Beyonce
19. One Less Lonely Girl - Justin Bieber
18. One Time - Justin Bieber
20. iYiYi - Cody Simpson
21. The Only Exception - Paramore
22. Enchanted - Taylor Swift
23. Change - Taylor Swift
24. Breakaway - Kelly Clarkson
25. My Life Would Suck Without You - Kelly Clarkson
26. I Do Not Hook Up - Kelly Clarkson
27. Love Story - Taylor Swift
2. Nothin' On You - B.o.B ft. Bruno Mars
3. Firework - Katy Perry
4. Peacock - Katy Perry
5. Big Girls (You Are Beautiful) - MIKA
6. So Yesterday - Hilary Duff
7. Picture to Burn - Taylor Swift
8. Mean - Taylor Swift
10. Mine - Taylor Swift
11. Teenage Dream - Katy Perry
12. Only Girl (In The World) - Rihanna
13. Speak Now - Taylor Swift
14. Bitch - Meredith Brookes
15. Honey to the B - Billie (Piper)
16. Irreplaceable - Beyonce
17. Halo - Beyonce
18. Single Ladies - Beyonce
19. One Less Lonely Girl - Justin Bieber
18. One Time - Justin Bieber
20. iYiYi - Cody Simpson
21. The Only Exception - Paramore
22. Enchanted - Taylor Swift
23. Change - Taylor Swift
24. Breakaway - Kelly Clarkson
25. My Life Would Suck Without You - Kelly Clarkson
26. I Do Not Hook Up - Kelly Clarkson
27. Love Story - Taylor Swift
Thursday, November 18, 2010
they say it's a male thing.
I just thought about something today. Call me sexist, but I'm just going by personal experience. The idiot happened to be male.
I've always been insecure about how I look - they say it's a female thing. I notice when my fringe is the slightest bit greasy, I notice my spots and my not-so-perfect figure. I know I'm not the next Miranda Kerr.
This is kind of embarassing for me to admit, but I've always thought of myself as second class to some of the cute boys in the school. I've always put my plainness into perspective, sometimes over compensating for the fact that I've got spots or my eyebrows aren't perfectly plucked or it looks like I went swimming in a pepper mill if I forget to shave my legs.
My ex boyfriend, it occurred to me, was never plagued by these insecurities.
You may think from my endless heartbreak over dear old K that K must have been a real stunner - a Keanu Reeves/Brad Pitt hybrid, no less.
Not so.
K was tall, and too skinny - his arms were Auschwitz thin, and instead of a six pack he had all his ribs poking out, like a mummy. He was pasty, and not in an Edward Cullen way. He had heaps of spots - more than me. His hair was the unglamourous colour of sandy blond, cut in an unflatteringly short spikey do as to not irritate him during sport. When he did play sport he flushed, no joke, tomato red, making his eyebrows seem almost white. His legs looked like he had stuck instant noodles to them, and he ate like a half-starved pig.
Yes, this is the man that I've wasted about two years over. Needless to say, I have issues.
Okay, I know you think I'm being petty. Love isn't about looks. Okay, think about this. He was the most shameless flirt I've ever met, and I know myself, for crying out loud. He would say horrible things and then say that I was too sensitive for taking him seriously. And now, after all the pain he has caused a hell of a lot of people, he's wiped his hands clean. When he sees me he is completely devoid of apology or sympathy - in fact, his eyes are accusing, as if to say 'What did you do that for?'
But it never bothered him, how gangly and seemingly unattractive he was. It never bothered him how horrible he was - he never bothered to change because he somehow figured there would always be an idiot like me, a mess of a dreamer with the nerve to adore him, that he could play with. He was never bound by insecurities that seem to plague we the female sex - and this is keeping in mind that he could not abuse concealer like I have done during desperate acne rages. And he managed to get two girls to swoon over him as boys have never swooned over me, although I'm clear headed enough to see now that as plain as I may be I am leaps and bounds more attractive - physically and internally - than K was, is or ever will be. And yet girls love him and boys don't love me.
Why do I not set my sights a bit higher? Why is it when I meet a boy who doesn't seem like a jerk and doesn't have more spots than a ladybug I immediately conclude that I'm not good enough and he's never ever going to be interested? I should have more faith in myself, I know. But a lifetime of being threatened and coaxed and blackmailed into insecurity has had this effect on me. I hope you're happy now, those teachers who said it was 'for my own good' when they mercilessly hacked away at what self confidence I had when I was eight, because now I waste my time chasing heartbreakers who aren't even pretty. Or nice.
Insecurity is something that I think was pretty much forced upon me. I was a dapper little kid, and eight years in primary school completely wrecked that. Af the age of fourteen I have the self-esteem of a shoelace, and I hate myself for it. And I hate K for taking advantage of it.
I've always been insecure about how I look - they say it's a female thing. I notice when my fringe is the slightest bit greasy, I notice my spots and my not-so-perfect figure. I know I'm not the next Miranda Kerr.
This is kind of embarassing for me to admit, but I've always thought of myself as second class to some of the cute boys in the school. I've always put my plainness into perspective, sometimes over compensating for the fact that I've got spots or my eyebrows aren't perfectly plucked or it looks like I went swimming in a pepper mill if I forget to shave my legs.
My ex boyfriend, it occurred to me, was never plagued by these insecurities.
You may think from my endless heartbreak over dear old K that K must have been a real stunner - a Keanu Reeves/Brad Pitt hybrid, no less.
Not so.
K was tall, and too skinny - his arms were Auschwitz thin, and instead of a six pack he had all his ribs poking out, like a mummy. He was pasty, and not in an Edward Cullen way. He had heaps of spots - more than me. His hair was the unglamourous colour of sandy blond, cut in an unflatteringly short spikey do as to not irritate him during sport. When he did play sport he flushed, no joke, tomato red, making his eyebrows seem almost white. His legs looked like he had stuck instant noodles to them, and he ate like a half-starved pig.
Yes, this is the man that I've wasted about two years over. Needless to say, I have issues.
Okay, I know you think I'm being petty. Love isn't about looks. Okay, think about this. He was the most shameless flirt I've ever met, and I know myself, for crying out loud. He would say horrible things and then say that I was too sensitive for taking him seriously. And now, after all the pain he has caused a hell of a lot of people, he's wiped his hands clean. When he sees me he is completely devoid of apology or sympathy - in fact, his eyes are accusing, as if to say 'What did you do that for?'
But it never bothered him, how gangly and seemingly unattractive he was. It never bothered him how horrible he was - he never bothered to change because he somehow figured there would always be an idiot like me, a mess of a dreamer with the nerve to adore him, that he could play with. He was never bound by insecurities that seem to plague we the female sex - and this is keeping in mind that he could not abuse concealer like I have done during desperate acne rages. And he managed to get two girls to swoon over him as boys have never swooned over me, although I'm clear headed enough to see now that as plain as I may be I am leaps and bounds more attractive - physically and internally - than K was, is or ever will be. And yet girls love him and boys don't love me.
Why do I not set my sights a bit higher? Why is it when I meet a boy who doesn't seem like a jerk and doesn't have more spots than a ladybug I immediately conclude that I'm not good enough and he's never ever going to be interested? I should have more faith in myself, I know. But a lifetime of being threatened and coaxed and blackmailed into insecurity has had this effect on me. I hope you're happy now, those teachers who said it was 'for my own good' when they mercilessly hacked away at what self confidence I had when I was eight, because now I waste my time chasing heartbreakers who aren't even pretty. Or nice.
Insecurity is something that I think was pretty much forced upon me. I was a dapper little kid, and eight years in primary school completely wrecked that. Af the age of fourteen I have the self-esteem of a shoelace, and I hate myself for it. And I hate K for taking advantage of it.
Rate My Teachers
I love how teachers diss ratemyteachers.com
I love how it's banned at school because teachers are so terrified of it.
When you get picked on, don't change. Just block it, so that students will hopefully never lay eyes on it.
How Communist China.
I love how it's banned at school because teachers are so terrified of it.
When you get picked on, don't change. Just block it, so that students will hopefully never lay eyes on it.
How Communist China.
teacher syndrome.
All teachers have a syndrome.
ART TEACHER SYNDROME - the belief that their (not very important) subjects trumphs everything and should be a matter of supreme importance to their students. Not the best idea when those students have physics tests to study for.
Those most commonly afflicted: art teachers, music teachers, sport teachers, LOTE teachers.
MATH TEACHER SYNDROME - the belief that all their students are geniuses and are simply lazy and 'not working towards their proper potential'
Those most commonly afflicted: music teachers, math teachers, science teachers, sport teachers, LOTE teachers
SCIENCE TEACHER SYNDROME - the belief that their study is of any relevance to modern-day society (it's not).
Those most commonly afflicted: math teachers, science teachers, LOTE teachers
SPORT TEACHER SYNDROME - the belief that any person who cannot run at an acceptably (ridiculously) fast speed has not yet earned the right to live or be treated as a free person.
Those most commonly afflicted: sport teachers, math teachers, science teachers, LOTE teachers
HEALTH TEACHER SYNDROME - the belief that awkward adolescents actually like researching gonorrhea and putting condoms onto dildos.
Those most commonly afflicted: Health teachers and school nurses
SUPERIORITY COMPLEX - the belief that just because one is older/fatter/uglier/more wrinkled than their students they know everything and the student knows nothing.
Those most commonly afflicted: Music teachers, math teachers, science teachers.
CRITICISM-INTOLERANCE - the inability to accept criticism in a socially acceptable (or legal) manner.
Those most commonly afflicted: Music teachers.
THE "I'LL PRETEND TO BE COOL" SYNDROME - pretending to be young/hip/cool/trendy/computer literate in order to impress and/or fit in with their pupils
Those most commonly afflicted: choir directors, relief teachers, LOTE teachers
THE "I'LL JUST HAVE A SARCASTIC DISCUSSION WITH MY FELLOW TEACHER TO MAKE THE STUDENTS FEEL BAD" SYNDROME - when one teacher has a sarcastic 'that's okay, just do what you want,' or 'you're wasting your own time' or a 'I don't know if they realize hiw immature they are' conversation with another teacher in full view of the students in the vain hope it'll make us shut up and do some work. It doesn't work.
Those most commonly afflicted: choir directors and year co-ordinators.
THE "IF YOU DON'T WANT TO WORK JUST LEAVE!" COMPLEX - when teachers offer misbehaving students the option of walking out, or saying 'If you don't want to do your work don't come' when teaching a compulsory class. Trust me, we'd all like to take up on that offer.
Those most commonly afflicted: choir directors, math teachers, science teachers.
THE "GUILTY UNTIL PROVEN INNOCENT. AND THEN STILL KIND OF GUILTY." COMPLEX - when one confuses the profession of teaching with the role of a dictator.
Those most commonly afflicted: choir directors, LOTE teachers, math teachers, science teachers.
SMART ARSE INTOLERANCE - when a student displays that their IQ clearly trumphs that of the teacher, they go bonkers.
Those most commonly afflicted: incompetent teachers, LOTE teachers, math teachers, science teachers, music teachers
ENGLISH TEACHER SYNDROME - when a teacher is being purely amazingly awesome.
Those most commonly afflicted: English teachers and history teachers.
ART TEACHER SYNDROME - the belief that their (not very important) subjects trumphs everything and should be a matter of supreme importance to their students. Not the best idea when those students have physics tests to study for.
Those most commonly afflicted: art teachers, music teachers, sport teachers, LOTE teachers.
MATH TEACHER SYNDROME - the belief that all their students are geniuses and are simply lazy and 'not working towards their proper potential'
Those most commonly afflicted: music teachers, math teachers, science teachers, sport teachers, LOTE teachers
SCIENCE TEACHER SYNDROME - the belief that their study is of any relevance to modern-day society (it's not).
Those most commonly afflicted: math teachers, science teachers, LOTE teachers
SPORT TEACHER SYNDROME - the belief that any person who cannot run at an acceptably (ridiculously) fast speed has not yet earned the right to live or be treated as a free person.
Those most commonly afflicted: sport teachers, math teachers, science teachers, LOTE teachers
HEALTH TEACHER SYNDROME - the belief that awkward adolescents actually like researching gonorrhea and putting condoms onto dildos.
Those most commonly afflicted: Health teachers and school nurses
SUPERIORITY COMPLEX - the belief that just because one is older/fatter/uglier/more wrinkled than their students they know everything and the student knows nothing.
Those most commonly afflicted: Music teachers, math teachers, science teachers.
CRITICISM-INTOLERANCE - the inability to accept criticism in a socially acceptable (or legal) manner.
Those most commonly afflicted: Music teachers.
THE "I'LL PRETEND TO BE COOL" SYNDROME - pretending to be young/hip/cool/trendy/computer literate in order to impress and/or fit in with their pupils
Those most commonly afflicted: choir directors, relief teachers, LOTE teachers
THE "I'LL JUST HAVE A SARCASTIC DISCUSSION WITH MY FELLOW TEACHER TO MAKE THE STUDENTS FEEL BAD" SYNDROME - when one teacher has a sarcastic 'that's okay, just do what you want,' or 'you're wasting your own time' or a 'I don't know if they realize hiw immature they are' conversation with another teacher in full view of the students in the vain hope it'll make us shut up and do some work. It doesn't work.
Those most commonly afflicted: choir directors and year co-ordinators.
THE "IF YOU DON'T WANT TO WORK JUST LEAVE!" COMPLEX - when teachers offer misbehaving students the option of walking out, or saying 'If you don't want to do your work don't come' when teaching a compulsory class. Trust me, we'd all like to take up on that offer.
Those most commonly afflicted: choir directors, math teachers, science teachers.
THE "GUILTY UNTIL PROVEN INNOCENT. AND THEN STILL KIND OF GUILTY." COMPLEX - when one confuses the profession of teaching with the role of a dictator.
Those most commonly afflicted: choir directors, LOTE teachers, math teachers, science teachers.
SMART ARSE INTOLERANCE - when a student displays that their IQ clearly trumphs that of the teacher, they go bonkers.
Those most commonly afflicted: incompetent teachers, LOTE teachers, math teachers, science teachers, music teachers
ENGLISH TEACHER SYNDROME - when a teacher is being purely amazingly awesome.
Those most commonly afflicted: English teachers and history teachers.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Enchanted.
I love that word. Enchanted.
All I see are blank faces now,
Eyes that cannot see.
People who do not really live,
They just...be.
It would be so enchanting to meet you.
It would be so inspiring to know you.
If only I could see a spark in someone's eye,
And know that they can fly,
I'd like to be enchanted,
Don't you?
All I see are mismatched souls now,
Eyes filmed with misery.
People who live waiting to die,
I thank God I'm blind to what they see.
It would be so enchanting to meet you.
It would be so inspiring to know you.
If only I could feel a beating heart,
And know that you and I could be a shooting star,
I'd like to be enchanted,
Don't you?
Let's tear away from the world, honey
It would be so enchanting to meet you.
Let's get away from the dead and grey,
It would be so enchanting to meet you.
I wanna be under your spell,
I want to feel warm again;
Once you climb over the mountain of despair,
I'll be there.
And I'd say
It's so enchanting to meet you,
It's so beautiful to meet you,
You and I can make a change,
give the world a resurrection.
But for now,
I'm just,
Enchanted by you.
Inspired by Taylor Swift's song 'Enchanted'
All I see are blank faces now,
Eyes that cannot see.
People who do not really live,
They just...be.
It would be so enchanting to meet you.
It would be so inspiring to know you.
If only I could see a spark in someone's eye,
And know that they can fly,
I'd like to be enchanted,
Don't you?
All I see are mismatched souls now,
Eyes filmed with misery.
People who live waiting to die,
I thank God I'm blind to what they see.
It would be so enchanting to meet you.
It would be so inspiring to know you.
If only I could feel a beating heart,
And know that you and I could be a shooting star,
I'd like to be enchanted,
Don't you?
Let's tear away from the world, honey
It would be so enchanting to meet you.
Let's get away from the dead and grey,
It would be so enchanting to meet you.
I wanna be under your spell,
I want to feel warm again;
Once you climb over the mountain of despair,
I'll be there.
And I'd say
It's so enchanting to meet you,
It's so beautiful to meet you,
You and I can make a change,
give the world a resurrection.
But for now,
I'm just,
Enchanted by you.
Inspired by Taylor Swift's song 'Enchanted'
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
I Hate Fridays.
One book I recommend everybody (and I mean everybody) reads is the I Hate Fridays Collection, which is all five books of this brilliant series set in a Melbourne suburb in an omnibus edition.
I Hate Fridays is written by Rachel Flynn, with illustrations by Craig Smith. It's a brilliant book, and it's only now that I'm older that I appreciate how cleverly it is written. It follows a group of schoolkids from Grade Four to Year Eight, with an Epilogue of 'Where Are They Now?'.
It's the kind of book that really grows with you - I loved it when I first got it, at the age of seven, and I love it now, although it has changed incredibly as I have gotten older and wiser. It's the kind of thing even adults can read.
The books are a collection of short stories, supposedly written by the (fictional) schoolkids, that interconnect with each other. You watch how the characters grow, you watch as they start to resemble your own schoolyard chums, and you learn to love them, even warty Mario Marati.
Seriously. Get it.
I Hate Fridays is written by Rachel Flynn, with illustrations by Craig Smith. It's a brilliant book, and it's only now that I'm older that I appreciate how cleverly it is written. It follows a group of schoolkids from Grade Four to Year Eight, with an Epilogue of 'Where Are They Now?'.
It's the kind of book that really grows with you - I loved it when I first got it, at the age of seven, and I love it now, although it has changed incredibly as I have gotten older and wiser. It's the kind of thing even adults can read.
The books are a collection of short stories, supposedly written by the (fictional) schoolkids, that interconnect with each other. You watch how the characters grow, you watch as they start to resemble your own schoolyard chums, and you learn to love them, even warty Mario Marati.
Seriously. Get it.
And they say they're there for the greater good.
In politics Mr. C was telling us about our rights if we are ever stopped or arrested by the police. He then went on to tell us that oftentimes the police don't actually care or know about your rights, and this has led to him being taken by police several times as a youth.
He tried to put it as delicately as possible. The majority of the police force is made up of high school dropouts or people who couldn't get into uni - the same stuff of criminals, although the police force offers a more legal form of violence. And it is true - the police seem to be the people outside the law, and are running errant at that.
And you hear dreadful stories - police setting their dogs on illegal immigrants whilst yelling racial slurs, dumping quadraplegics and the mentally retarded out of their wheelchairs, shooting a woman in her home on a fraudulent no-knock warrant, and then planting drugs in the house when they found none of her own. You hear stories of youths being kicked and punched into police cars, and girls being beaten and raped in holding cells.
Policemen are intimidating people. Whenever I see them out and about I shudder, especially if they're carrying Tasers. I don't mind guns so much, it's the Tasers I'm scared of - really, they should be made illegal.
Men are unreliable creatures, and should not be given such power over the lives of other men. You give a man a shiny gun and a horse and yes, there will be blood! We train policemen only caring about whether they know how to fire a gun or not, we don't bother with establishing whether they have a conscience or no.
I just don't feel comfortable with the fact that after three months training people, who are as likely to be thugs as policemen, are given a nice uniform and a gun and let loose into the streets. Policemen are often complaining of poor work conditions and bad pay, and although I know some of them are genuinely there for the greater good, the majority of them need to clean up their act.
He tried to put it as delicately as possible. The majority of the police force is made up of high school dropouts or people who couldn't get into uni - the same stuff of criminals, although the police force offers a more legal form of violence. And it is true - the police seem to be the people outside the law, and are running errant at that.
And you hear dreadful stories - police setting their dogs on illegal immigrants whilst yelling racial slurs, dumping quadraplegics and the mentally retarded out of their wheelchairs, shooting a woman in her home on a fraudulent no-knock warrant, and then planting drugs in the house when they found none of her own. You hear stories of youths being kicked and punched into police cars, and girls being beaten and raped in holding cells.
Policemen are intimidating people. Whenever I see them out and about I shudder, especially if they're carrying Tasers. I don't mind guns so much, it's the Tasers I'm scared of - really, they should be made illegal.
Men are unreliable creatures, and should not be given such power over the lives of other men. You give a man a shiny gun and a horse and yes, there will be blood! We train policemen only caring about whether they know how to fire a gun or not, we don't bother with establishing whether they have a conscience or no.
I just don't feel comfortable with the fact that after three months training people, who are as likely to be thugs as policemen, are given a nice uniform and a gun and let loose into the streets. Policemen are often complaining of poor work conditions and bad pay, and although I know some of them are genuinely there for the greater good, the majority of them need to clean up their act.
Dreams can change.
To be honest, I don't have the same dreams that I had just a few months back.
I want a big house, a comfortable house, a place with lush green grass and a big, big greenhouse with lots of vegetables. I want to live away from the world, in my little sanctuary. I want luxury, but a homey, kind of luxury, the quiet luxury of simplicity. I want a study that has a nice view from the window, with a fast computer so I can write all day. I'll publish books and when I go into town people will recognise me and ask for autographs, but I don't think I want to be too famous so that I get stalkers or anything. I want to go ice skating every day, although I'm not sure where.
It's amazing how what you once lived and breathed for can suddenly become so unappealing. I still want the same things but I guess my priorities have changed, and how I want them has changed.
How strange.
I want a big house, a comfortable house, a place with lush green grass and a big, big greenhouse with lots of vegetables. I want to live away from the world, in my little sanctuary. I want luxury, but a homey, kind of luxury, the quiet luxury of simplicity. I want a study that has a nice view from the window, with a fast computer so I can write all day. I'll publish books and when I go into town people will recognise me and ask for autographs, but I don't think I want to be too famous so that I get stalkers or anything. I want to go ice skating every day, although I'm not sure where.
It's amazing how what you once lived and breathed for can suddenly become so unappealing. I still want the same things but I guess my priorities have changed, and how I want them has changed.
How strange.
Monday, November 15, 2010
re: my poems.
Readers of mine may have noticed that lately I have been writing lots of poems based on songs.
I would just like to say that just because I write poems based on deep emotional love songs it doesn't mean I'm in a deep or emotional or loved up mood or anything, or that I'm not over my ex (I am. Seriously.) It's just that sometimes I hear a song and I think 'That would make such a cool poem,' or 'I totally know where she's coming from,' or 'OMG she's singing about my douchebag ex/the bully of the tenth grade!'
Stuff like that.
I would just like to say that just because I write poems based on deep emotional love songs it doesn't mean I'm in a deep or emotional or loved up mood or anything, or that I'm not over my ex (I am. Seriously.) It's just that sometimes I hear a song and I think 'That would make such a cool poem,' or 'I totally know where she's coming from,' or 'OMG she's singing about my douchebag ex/the bully of the tenth grade!'
Stuff like that.
If This Was a Movie.
Last night I thought about how lately,
My life has been kind of going to plan lately,
I'm studying hard and I'm getting good grades like my mama said I would.
Last night I thought about how lately,
I've been kind of happier lately,
I'm laying off the makeup and I feel prettier like my mama said I could.
But you know I,
Can't help wondering if
This was a movie how would we turn out?
If this was a movie,
I wouldn't be alone,
I'd have a boy to drive me home.
If this was a movie,
You'd come back to me.
And maybe you'd even be riding a lawnmower.
If this was a movie,
You would have made me cry,
But you would have stood in the rain and told me why
You would be sorry,
If this was a movie.
Last night I thought about how lately,
Boys haven't meant as much to me lately,
I've backed off a bit and I'm having fun like my mama said I should.
Last night I thought about how lately,
I'm managing pretty good lately,
It's kind of nice without depending on love like my mama said I shouldn't.
But you know I,
Can't help wondering if
This was a movie how would we turn out?
If this was a movie,
I wouldn't be alone,
I'd have a boy to drive me home.
If this was a movie,
You would come back to me.
You would have chosen me instead of her.
If this was a movie,
You would have known you messed up,
If this was a movie,
You wouldn't have walked away.
If this was a movie.
I should have known
The higher you aim
The harder you fall
It doesn't bother me too much now,
But I can't help wondering if
This was a movie how would we turn out?
If this was a movie,
You would be a cute-smile movie star,
If this was a movie,
I wouldn't have acne scars.
If this was a movie,
We could have had our first kiss onscreen.
If this was a movie,
I'd know how it would end,
Walking on the beach at sunset,
Or round a river bend,
It would fade to black,
And show the names,
And it would be so lame,
But if this was a movie,
It would have turned out okay.
Inspired by 'If This Was a Movie' by Taylor Swift
My life has been kind of going to plan lately,
I'm studying hard and I'm getting good grades like my mama said I would.
Last night I thought about how lately,
I've been kind of happier lately,
I'm laying off the makeup and I feel prettier like my mama said I could.
But you know I,
Can't help wondering if
This was a movie how would we turn out?
If this was a movie,
I wouldn't be alone,
I'd have a boy to drive me home.
If this was a movie,
You'd come back to me.
And maybe you'd even be riding a lawnmower.
If this was a movie,
You would have made me cry,
But you would have stood in the rain and told me why
You would be sorry,
If this was a movie.
Last night I thought about how lately,
Boys haven't meant as much to me lately,
I've backed off a bit and I'm having fun like my mama said I should.
Last night I thought about how lately,
I'm managing pretty good lately,
It's kind of nice without depending on love like my mama said I shouldn't.
But you know I,
Can't help wondering if
This was a movie how would we turn out?
If this was a movie,
I wouldn't be alone,
I'd have a boy to drive me home.
If this was a movie,
You would come back to me.
You would have chosen me instead of her.
If this was a movie,
You would have known you messed up,
If this was a movie,
You wouldn't have walked away.
If this was a movie.
I should have known
The higher you aim
The harder you fall
It doesn't bother me too much now,
But I can't help wondering if
This was a movie how would we turn out?
If this was a movie,
You would be a cute-smile movie star,
If this was a movie,
I wouldn't have acne scars.
If this was a movie,
We could have had our first kiss onscreen.
If this was a movie,
I'd know how it would end,
Walking on the beach at sunset,
Or round a river bend,
It would fade to black,
And show the names,
And it would be so lame,
But if this was a movie,
It would have turned out okay.
Inspired by 'If This Was a Movie' by Taylor Swift
Mean.
I know what you say about me.
I know exactly what you mean.
You know I'm not as dumb as you think coz
If I was I wouldn't have beaten you in everything.
You know exactly how you hurt me.
You know that you make me cry.
I know you love how much you can hurt me coz
That's who you are and all you'll ever be.
So you can tease me,
Call me a useless dreamer,
Because I know,
People don't get any meaner.
You're trapped in your own bitterness,
You can't look past your ignorance,
You're trapped in ways that I'm not.
So baby, I don't blame ya,
Because I can dare to dream,
And all you are is mean.
I don't know what I did to deserve this,
I don't know exactly who deserves this humiliation.
You know you're loving how you hate me coz
You don't know any other way.
You don't know how bad it feels to be on this end,
You don't know how hard you hit sometimes.
I don't know if there's any way to protect you
From the person you are,
And the person you'll become.
So you can blame me and
Call me a useless dreamer,
Because I know,
People don't get any meaner.
You think that I'm so innocent,
You think that I'm so helpless,
I'm trapped in ways that you're not.
So baby, I don't blame ya,
Because I'm the useless dreamer,
And all you are is mean.
Do you really think in this world,
A pretty face like yours should really be paired with a black heart like yours?
Do you really think in this world,
I'll never be anything?
I'll never be anything?
You know you can't get to big cities just by bitchin'
You know you can't get money just by lyin'
You know that college and careers don't fall into your lap like cherries.
I guess to get all that you have to be a useless dreamer...
Like me...
So who's laughing now?
It's the useless dreamer.
You should stop now,
Please don't get any meaner.
You're so helpless,
You're gonna be so unwanted,
You're trapped in so many ways that I'm not,
So baby I don't blame ya,
Call me a uselss dreamer,
Because I won't be one for much longer,
But all you'll ever be,
All you ever are is mean.
Inspired by Taylor Swift's song 'Mean'.
I know exactly what you mean.
You know I'm not as dumb as you think coz
If I was I wouldn't have beaten you in everything.
You know exactly how you hurt me.
You know that you make me cry.
I know you love how much you can hurt me coz
That's who you are and all you'll ever be.
So you can tease me,
Call me a useless dreamer,
Because I know,
People don't get any meaner.
You're trapped in your own bitterness,
You can't look past your ignorance,
You're trapped in ways that I'm not.
So baby, I don't blame ya,
Because I can dare to dream,
And all you are is mean.
I don't know what I did to deserve this,
I don't know exactly who deserves this humiliation.
You know you're loving how you hate me coz
You don't know any other way.
You don't know how bad it feels to be on this end,
You don't know how hard you hit sometimes.
I don't know if there's any way to protect you
From the person you are,
And the person you'll become.
So you can blame me and
Call me a useless dreamer,
Because I know,
People don't get any meaner.
You think that I'm so innocent,
You think that I'm so helpless,
I'm trapped in ways that you're not.
So baby, I don't blame ya,
Because I'm the useless dreamer,
And all you are is mean.
Do you really think in this world,
A pretty face like yours should really be paired with a black heart like yours?
Do you really think in this world,
I'll never be anything?
I'll never be anything?
You know you can't get to big cities just by bitchin'
You know you can't get money just by lyin'
You know that college and careers don't fall into your lap like cherries.
I guess to get all that you have to be a useless dreamer...
Like me...
So who's laughing now?
It's the useless dreamer.
You should stop now,
Please don't get any meaner.
You're so helpless,
You're gonna be so unwanted,
You're trapped in so many ways that I'm not,
So baby I don't blame ya,
Call me a uselss dreamer,
Because I won't be one for much longer,
But all you'll ever be,
All you ever are is mean.
Inspired by Taylor Swift's song 'Mean'.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
I can marry, you can marry. They should be able to marry, too.
Gay people cannot get married. It's simple as that. Our dear Prime Minister cannot even offer a reason, other than it is in the Consititution.
I've grown up in a very homophobic world. 'Gay' is still a degrading term for anyone, regardless of their sexuality.
Sexuality is a private matter, and I don't think politics should interfere with matters of behind closed doors. Anyone can get married - religious psychofreaks, convicted mass murderers - and yet gay people do not have the most basic right because we're backward morons who are terrified of the unknown.
We have this idea in our heads that once we legalize gay marriage, we'll be on the slippery slope to legalizing incest, bigamy and adultery. Not true. There is nothing wrong about homosexuality, okay? Sure, the idea might creep us out, but we're not forcing anybody to do anything they don't want to do, we just want to make sure people can do whatever they want to do.
I don't think I'm gay, I don't think I'm going to 'become' gay, because to my knowledge gay is something you're born with. But if I was gay, I shouldn't be made to feel inferior or sinful just for what I am. I don't want to know that I'm going to get bullied and bashed just because of something that is really a private matter anyway. What if my children are gay? How am I meant to tell them that mummy is allowed to get married but they aren't?
Gay people are people too. I don't think they deserve special rights, but I don't think they deserve to be denied their rights. Equal rights for all.
I've grown up in a very homophobic world. 'Gay' is still a degrading term for anyone, regardless of their sexuality.
Sexuality is a private matter, and I don't think politics should interfere with matters of behind closed doors. Anyone can get married - religious psychofreaks, convicted mass murderers - and yet gay people do not have the most basic right because we're backward morons who are terrified of the unknown.
We have this idea in our heads that once we legalize gay marriage, we'll be on the slippery slope to legalizing incest, bigamy and adultery. Not true. There is nothing wrong about homosexuality, okay? Sure, the idea might creep us out, but we're not forcing anybody to do anything they don't want to do, we just want to make sure people can do whatever they want to do.
I don't think I'm gay, I don't think I'm going to 'become' gay, because to my knowledge gay is something you're born with. But if I was gay, I shouldn't be made to feel inferior or sinful just for what I am. I don't want to know that I'm going to get bullied and bashed just because of something that is really a private matter anyway. What if my children are gay? How am I meant to tell them that mummy is allowed to get married but they aren't?
Gay people are people too. I don't think they deserve special rights, but I don't think they deserve to be denied their rights. Equal rights for all.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
school bullying.
Australian schools do not allow same sex couples to attend school social events together.
Australian schools will, ahem, 'strongly advise' (kick out) any female students who fall pregnant, but will do nothing about the father.
Australian schools have the right to ask students to remove any ornamentation, even jewellery for religious purposes, like crucifixes.
Australian schools have the right to censor school internet access as they choose, use video monitoring, and have direct access to internet history logs and student accounts.
Australian schools have the right to punish students for conduct out of school time or grounds.
Australian schools have CCTV cameras in toilets.
Australian schools allow male staff and cleaners into female toilets.
Australian schools have the right to tell students to discard bought items or swap them if they contain caffeine, with no warning or monetary compensation.
Australian school teachers habitually and frequently abuse girls over issues such as clothing, image, and periods.
Australian schools abuse children who cannot remain composed during immunizations.
True story.
Campaign for better protection and rights and legal representation for children. We are human beings too, you know.
Australian schools will, ahem, 'strongly advise' (kick out) any female students who fall pregnant, but will do nothing about the father.
Australian schools have the right to ask students to remove any ornamentation, even jewellery for religious purposes, like crucifixes.
Australian schools have the right to censor school internet access as they choose, use video monitoring, and have direct access to internet history logs and student accounts.
Australian schools have the right to punish students for conduct out of school time or grounds.
Australian schools have CCTV cameras in toilets.
Australian schools allow male staff and cleaners into female toilets.
Australian schools have the right to tell students to discard bought items or swap them if they contain caffeine, with no warning or monetary compensation.
Australian school teachers habitually and frequently abuse girls over issues such as clothing, image, and periods.
Australian schools abuse children who cannot remain composed during immunizations.
True story.
Campaign for better protection and rights and legal representation for children. We are human beings too, you know.
peacock.
So there's this new song released by Katy Perry called 'Peacock'. Sounds innocent enough, hey, but think again. The lyrics go like this: I wanna see your peacock, cock, cock/Your peacock, cock/Your peacock, cock, cock/Your peacock/I wanna see your peacock, cock, cock/Your peacock, cock/Your peacock, cock, cock/Your peacock.
Got the message yet? We wanna see your, ahem, peacock.
Before you say this is vulgar, it's just fun. Seriously. And if guys can sing songs like this => Tight jeans/double d's/makes a man go twit-twoo then girls can sing about peacocks. Why are guys allowed to f**k around and we're not?
I'm not saying that all girls think about it 24/7 (or as much as some guys I know), but we have the right to do and think and say what we want. It's called freedom. Liberty. Every woman's right. We are human, you know. Girls don't just dream of love and boys don't just dream of sex. It should be okay to mix it up a bit.
Sex is such a taboo for girls. We're not meant to like it or think about it or be curious about it or even sing about it, for crying out loud. If the song was called 'Puppies' and sung by a guy nobody would give a second thought. But no, girls aren't even allowed to use a substitute for the abominable p-word.
Got the message yet? We wanna see your, ahem, peacock.
Before you say this is vulgar, it's just fun. Seriously. And if guys can sing songs like this => Tight jeans/double d's/makes a man go twit-twoo then girls can sing about peacocks. Why are guys allowed to f**k around and we're not?
I'm not saying that all girls think about it 24/7 (or as much as some guys I know), but we have the right to do and think and say what we want. It's called freedom. Liberty. Every woman's right. We are human, you know. Girls don't just dream of love and boys don't just dream of sex. It should be okay to mix it up a bit.
Sex is such a taboo for girls. We're not meant to like it or think about it or be curious about it or even sing about it, for crying out loud. If the song was called 'Puppies' and sung by a guy nobody would give a second thought. But no, girls aren't even allowed to use a substitute for the abominable p-word.
The Ying and Yang
The ying and yang is incomplete.
Maybe they can see past your yelling and screaming,
But I can't.
Or maybe I can,
But there is nothing to see.
The ying and yang is incomplete.
Why must you follow 'that's good,' with 'but'?
Always others worthier to be your daughter,
I can't do anything right.
The ying and yang is incomplete.
All I wanted was some respect.
You invest too much in the security of blood,
You don't see the value of love.
The ying and yang is incomplete.
I tried so hard not to do this to you,
This, that I have done to others,
I tried not to,
Because I love you.
When was the last time you said that, huh?
The ying and yang is incomplete.
There,
I've said it.
Maybe they can see past your yelling and screaming,
But I can't.
Or maybe I can,
But there is nothing to see.
The ying and yang is incomplete.
Why must you follow 'that's good,' with 'but'?
Always others worthier to be your daughter,
I can't do anything right.
The ying and yang is incomplete.
All I wanted was some respect.
You invest too much in the security of blood,
You don't see the value of love.
The ying and yang is incomplete.
I tried so hard not to do this to you,
This, that I have done to others,
I tried not to,
Because I love you.
When was the last time you said that, huh?
The ying and yang is incomplete.
There,
I've said it.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Treat boat people like real people.
It is disgusting that Australia treats boat people worse than we treat murderers.
Australia is scared of boat people - they're scared of uneducated, desperate, poor people who just want a better life. We are pathetic.
Treat boat people like real people. We gave that man who drowned his bride 18 months for manslaughter. We give some boat people nearly a decade behind bars just for wanting a life.
Australia is scared of boat people - they're scared of uneducated, desperate, poor people who just want a better life. We are pathetic.
Treat boat people like real people. We gave that man who drowned his bride 18 months for manslaughter. We give some boat people nearly a decade behind bars just for wanting a life.
My Garden
Growing up, we didn't really have a very productive garden. My mum and dad work full time, and of course, we go to school, and we're lazy buggers.
Occasionally when I was little I'd bury a fruit or a fruit seed or stone, but nothing ever happened, because I normally forgot about it, and I didn't do any research into how certain things should be planted.
Our soil in my old house was also quite dreadful - mostly yellow or grey sand that didn't hold water properly.
The only thing that grew that was edible was the guava on the nature strip, the mint that I loved and my dad hated because it ran EVERYWHERE, and the mandarin tree produced masses of fruit every year. But I wasn't particularly in love with guava, and you get sick of mandarin after you've eaten about twenty. At one point we grew kang kong, but at another point we also gave up.
Now we're in a new house with slightly better soil, so we finally have a veggie garden. We planted snow peas (a favourite) and beans (another favourite), lettuce, parsley, basil, strawberries, coriander, passionfruit and cherry tomatoes.
The snow peas was the most successful - at its peak we harvested a big bowl ful every couple of days. The lettuce led to many korean bbq nights, but eventually became old and bitter because we didn't harvest whole heads of lettuce, only leaves. We've got waaaay too much coriander, and parsley that we rarely use.
The strawberries grow alright, but they're always getting eaten. The fruit at first was at first tasteless, then sour, then tasteless again. Any fruit I can salvage now that is ripe and not eaten or pecked is tiny bit intensely sweet.
We planted the basil and the cherry tomatoes in the same place - in a garden bed we forgot to mix with compost and blood and bone. The basil was miserable - half of them died, and half of them turned an interesting shade of yellow. A careful transferral to potting mix and they're now flourishing wonderfully.
Despite hearing stories of hard-to-grow tomatoes, our cherry tomatoes flourished in the same soil where the basil slowly died. We now get dozens of tiny tiny tomatoes that are so much nicer than the watery, powdery things you get at the supermarket. The passionfruit flowered - I don't know what happened to it, lol.
I love having a productive garden - I'm always the one in the garden admiring as the yellow cherry tomato flowers grow into tiny deep green fruit the size of peas - as these peas become yellow and then orange and then red - I'm always the one admiring the provocative flower of the passionfruit or how the tiny tendrils of the snow peas stretch and and grasp onto each other or the fence, coiling in on itself like a telephone wire. One day when I'm rich I'll build a massive greenhouse and I'll plant a forest in there, and work in there every day. We will never have to go to the supermarket because I'll grow everything. And as I'm digging after coming back from a book launch or movie premiere I'll be thinking about this day, this day when I was fourteen and blogged from school when she was supposed to be doing math, when I was a kid dreaming, forever dreaming.
Occasionally when I was little I'd bury a fruit or a fruit seed or stone, but nothing ever happened, because I normally forgot about it, and I didn't do any research into how certain things should be planted.
Our soil in my old house was also quite dreadful - mostly yellow or grey sand that didn't hold water properly.
The only thing that grew that was edible was the guava on the nature strip, the mint that I loved and my dad hated because it ran EVERYWHERE, and the mandarin tree produced masses of fruit every year. But I wasn't particularly in love with guava, and you get sick of mandarin after you've eaten about twenty. At one point we grew kang kong, but at another point we also gave up.
Now we're in a new house with slightly better soil, so we finally have a veggie garden. We planted snow peas (a favourite) and beans (another favourite), lettuce, parsley, basil, strawberries, coriander, passionfruit and cherry tomatoes.
The snow peas was the most successful - at its peak we harvested a big bowl ful every couple of days. The lettuce led to many korean bbq nights, but eventually became old and bitter because we didn't harvest whole heads of lettuce, only leaves. We've got waaaay too much coriander, and parsley that we rarely use.
The strawberries grow alright, but they're always getting eaten. The fruit at first was at first tasteless, then sour, then tasteless again. Any fruit I can salvage now that is ripe and not eaten or pecked is tiny bit intensely sweet.
We planted the basil and the cherry tomatoes in the same place - in a garden bed we forgot to mix with compost and blood and bone. The basil was miserable - half of them died, and half of them turned an interesting shade of yellow. A careful transferral to potting mix and they're now flourishing wonderfully.
Despite hearing stories of hard-to-grow tomatoes, our cherry tomatoes flourished in the same soil where the basil slowly died. We now get dozens of tiny tiny tomatoes that are so much nicer than the watery, powdery things you get at the supermarket. The passionfruit flowered - I don't know what happened to it, lol.
I love having a productive garden - I'm always the one in the garden admiring as the yellow cherry tomato flowers grow into tiny deep green fruit the size of peas - as these peas become yellow and then orange and then red - I'm always the one admiring the provocative flower of the passionfruit or how the tiny tendrils of the snow peas stretch and and grasp onto each other or the fence, coiling in on itself like a telephone wire. One day when I'm rich I'll build a massive greenhouse and I'll plant a forest in there, and work in there every day. We will never have to go to the supermarket because I'll grow everything. And as I'm digging after coming back from a book launch or movie premiere I'll be thinking about this day, this day when I was fourteen and blogged from school when she was supposed to be doing math, when I was a kid dreaming, forever dreaming.
Tuesday, November 09, 2010
Girls Aren't Meant To Like Sex.
So one of my friends, who has been reading my rough draft of a book I am working on, leant me a book in a similar style to my own writing and with the same sort of target audience - 'Before I Die', by Jenny Downham. Basically, it's about a sixteen-year-old girl dying of leukemia, and decides to 'live life' namely dabble in drugs, alcohol and crime, but number-one on the list is, of course, sex.
The blurb at the back proudly says it all:
'It's really going to happen. They said it would happen, but this was quicker than anyone thought.'
Everyone has to die. We all know it.
With only a few months of life left, sixteen-year-old Tessa knows it better than most. She's made a list though - ten things she wants to do before she dies. Number one is sex. Starting tonight.
As I was reading the book at lunchtime a boy, being the charming polite gentleman as boys always are at this age, yanked it out of my hand and started to read the blurb out loud, quite loudly too, before he reached the ultimate taboo word: sex. He then looked at me as if to say 'What kind of slut are you, anyway?'
It's always the boys who are supposed to be interested in sex. Girls aren't supposed to be interested in sex, because interest in sex invariably leads you to getting pregnant.
But sex is an inevitable part of growing up, and yes, for girls too. Of course we're interested in sex, of course we think about sex. Sex is a part of life, much like eating or sleeping or breathing or having to go to the loo. If I were sixteen and about to die then yes, sex would be on my bucket list. I'm a girl, not the Virgin Mary - and in case you didn't notice, abstinence didn't really protect her from pregnancy anyway.
I've always found it degrading that an interest, or even a thought given to sex is a complete taboo for girls, and not for boys - in fact, the terms 'virgin' and 'male' just don't seem to correlate unless you're a Jonas Brother. An interest and curiousity in sex is part of being human, not part of being a slut. And really, we should have more sympathy for fictional terminally-ill teenagers. And the not-so-fictional, healthy ones, too.
The blurb at the back proudly says it all:
'It's really going to happen. They said it would happen, but this was quicker than anyone thought.'
Everyone has to die. We all know it.
With only a few months of life left, sixteen-year-old Tessa knows it better than most. She's made a list though - ten things she wants to do before she dies. Number one is sex. Starting tonight.
As I was reading the book at lunchtime a boy, being the charming polite gentleman as boys always are at this age, yanked it out of my hand and started to read the blurb out loud, quite loudly too, before he reached the ultimate taboo word: sex. He then looked at me as if to say 'What kind of slut are you, anyway?'
It's always the boys who are supposed to be interested in sex. Girls aren't supposed to be interested in sex, because interest in sex invariably leads you to getting pregnant.
But sex is an inevitable part of growing up, and yes, for girls too. Of course we're interested in sex, of course we think about sex. Sex is a part of life, much like eating or sleeping or breathing or having to go to the loo. If I were sixteen and about to die then yes, sex would be on my bucket list. I'm a girl, not the Virgin Mary - and in case you didn't notice, abstinence didn't really protect her from pregnancy anyway.
I've always found it degrading that an interest, or even a thought given to sex is a complete taboo for girls, and not for boys - in fact, the terms 'virgin' and 'male' just don't seem to correlate unless you're a Jonas Brother. An interest and curiousity in sex is part of being human, not part of being a slut. And really, we should have more sympathy for fictional terminally-ill teenagers. And the not-so-fictional, healthy ones, too.
In My Own Time.
When I was younger,
I guess I used to be that silly little girl,
With her heart on her sleeve.
I was just twelve when my heart broke for the first time,
It was simple, really:
I was his,
But he wasn't mine.
And I was a mess,
Too young and so wrecked,
But it was you and not him who taught me the new meaning of 'heartless'.
Would you go up to a kid,
And rip a bandaid off his knee?
Would you tell a motherless child
It was her fault her mama died?
How can you say 'Get over it',
When you know nothing about it,
Heartbreak is not a crime,
I could have gotten better in my own time.
Then I got older,
But I guess I didn't get any wiser,
Because I still left my heart on my sleeve.
I was thirteen when it happened again,
I don't know what was worse,
The humiliation,
Or the pain.
And so I was a mess,
Too young and so wrecked,
But it was you and not him who taught me the new meaning of 'heartless'.
Would you go up to a kid,
And rip a bandaid off his knee?
Would you tell a motherless child
It was her fault her mama died?
How can you say 'Get over it',
When you know nothing about it,
Heartbreak is not a crime,
I could have gotten better in my own time.
Two years on now,
Still hurt now,
Even though it wasn't really so bad.
I think you took a little problem,
And made it enormous,
A little patience on your side
Would have been appreciated.
It's hard for a wound to heal,
When you kept ripping of the bandage.
It's hard to take the pain,
When you took away all the aspirin.
So don't blame me if I get scars,
Because I think I got the cut dirty,
And it's to you as much as to him I say 'Why?'
I could have done without the laughing,
I know you could have done without the crying,
I know you're right, they were never worth it,
But heartbreak is not a crime,
And I could have gotten better in my own time.
And so it's to you I get to thank for still being kind of broken;
Do you know how pointless it is to say 'just get over it'?
I wasn't planning to waste my life over losers but
Heartbreak is not a crime,
I could have gotten better in my own time.
I guess I used to be that silly little girl,
With her heart on her sleeve.
I was just twelve when my heart broke for the first time,
It was simple, really:
I was his,
But he wasn't mine.
And I was a mess,
Too young and so wrecked,
But it was you and not him who taught me the new meaning of 'heartless'.
Would you go up to a kid,
And rip a bandaid off his knee?
Would you tell a motherless child
It was her fault her mama died?
How can you say 'Get over it',
When you know nothing about it,
Heartbreak is not a crime,
I could have gotten better in my own time.
Then I got older,
But I guess I didn't get any wiser,
Because I still left my heart on my sleeve.
I was thirteen when it happened again,
I don't know what was worse,
The humiliation,
Or the pain.
And so I was a mess,
Too young and so wrecked,
But it was you and not him who taught me the new meaning of 'heartless'.
Would you go up to a kid,
And rip a bandaid off his knee?
Would you tell a motherless child
It was her fault her mama died?
How can you say 'Get over it',
When you know nothing about it,
Heartbreak is not a crime,
I could have gotten better in my own time.
Two years on now,
Still hurt now,
Even though it wasn't really so bad.
I think you took a little problem,
And made it enormous,
A little patience on your side
Would have been appreciated.
It's hard for a wound to heal,
When you kept ripping of the bandage.
It's hard to take the pain,
When you took away all the aspirin.
So don't blame me if I get scars,
Because I think I got the cut dirty,
And it's to you as much as to him I say 'Why?'
I could have done without the laughing,
I know you could have done without the crying,
I know you're right, they were never worth it,
But heartbreak is not a crime,
And I could have gotten better in my own time.
And so it's to you I get to thank for still being kind of broken;
Do you know how pointless it is to say 'just get over it'?
I wasn't planning to waste my life over losers but
Heartbreak is not a crime,
I could have gotten better in my own time.
Monday, November 08, 2010
Wild Swans
One of my favourite and most inspiring books I have ever read is Wild Swans, the bestseller debut of Chinese-born British writer Jung Chang. It is a memoir, but a very unique memoir in that it shows the brutal reality of Mao Zedong's regime through the lives of three generations of women - Chang's grandmother, Chang's mother and Chang herself. Wild Swans refers to the names of Chang and her mother - her mother Bao Qin, was renamed 'De-hong' by her stepfather - 'de' being the generation name, and by renaming her with this name it was part of accepting her into his family, and 'hong' meaning -wild swan. Jung Chang's birth name is Er-hong, which is 'second swan'.
The first time I acquired a copy of Wild Swans was at a marketplace in Scotland, I think, or England, when I went to the UK a year or so ago. I read it eagerly, and devouring it as part of my dazzling experience of the rich and vibrant place that the UK is.
Before I read Wild Swans I knew very little about China - I had barely even heard of Mao. I was emerging from an age where I did not exactly dislike my Asian heritage, but I did not really welcome it - the Western world for me seemed much more appealing, even with it's obvious flaws, and so I drunk in the intoxicating, romantic ideals I had on Elizabethan England as to escape the boring monotony of school. What material I could find on oriental culture that was easily comprehendible was dull compared to the exciting re-enactments and dramatisations and documentaries of my passion - the Tudor court.
And so I read Wild Swans with a mixture of fascination and horror. China had domineered my life ever so subtly since I was born, and it is now an almost untameable superpower that we still unwittingly, no, even eagerly feed. And I found myself thinking 'Could people really do that? Could people really become that? Could people really go through that and come out of it, alive?' China was no longer the place where everything I owned seemed to be made, or the place where nice food was invented - it was once a dark, violent, turbulent place, and in some ways it still is.
I went to China earlier this year, actually, and obviously it has changed immeasureably from the China Jung Chang was born and bred in. But the place is thick with fear and insecurity, or so it seemed to me - as much as I dislike Australia and it's meany cultural flaws, in China I felt robbed of my freedom of speech, my right to say what I want and not be hauled to jail because of it - even though as a tourist I doubt they would have given me much trouble anyway, but still, the fear was ever present. It is a place heavily reliant on much censorship and political brainwashing - 'for the good of the people,' in true Mao fashion. Wild Swans is a book I have never tired of.
My second-hand copy I brought back with me from Britain is now in a rather sorry state, and so now I have a fresh copy. And every now and again I flip through it, to a world that I thought only existed in movies, and as I read of other people's horrors I can better appreciate my own, and put my trials into perspective with the world...
The first time I acquired a copy of Wild Swans was at a marketplace in Scotland, I think, or England, when I went to the UK a year or so ago. I read it eagerly, and devouring it as part of my dazzling experience of the rich and vibrant place that the UK is.
Before I read Wild Swans I knew very little about China - I had barely even heard of Mao. I was emerging from an age where I did not exactly dislike my Asian heritage, but I did not really welcome it - the Western world for me seemed much more appealing, even with it's obvious flaws, and so I drunk in the intoxicating, romantic ideals I had on Elizabethan England as to escape the boring monotony of school. What material I could find on oriental culture that was easily comprehendible was dull compared to the exciting re-enactments and dramatisations and documentaries of my passion - the Tudor court.
And so I read Wild Swans with a mixture of fascination and horror. China had domineered my life ever so subtly since I was born, and it is now an almost untameable superpower that we still unwittingly, no, even eagerly feed. And I found myself thinking 'Could people really do that? Could people really become that? Could people really go through that and come out of it, alive?' China was no longer the place where everything I owned seemed to be made, or the place where nice food was invented - it was once a dark, violent, turbulent place, and in some ways it still is.
I went to China earlier this year, actually, and obviously it has changed immeasureably from the China Jung Chang was born and bred in. But the place is thick with fear and insecurity, or so it seemed to me - as much as I dislike Australia and it's meany cultural flaws, in China I felt robbed of my freedom of speech, my right to say what I want and not be hauled to jail because of it - even though as a tourist I doubt they would have given me much trouble anyway, but still, the fear was ever present. It is a place heavily reliant on much censorship and political brainwashing - 'for the good of the people,' in true Mao fashion. Wild Swans is a book I have never tired of.
My second-hand copy I brought back with me from Britain is now in a rather sorry state, and so now I have a fresh copy. And every now and again I flip through it, to a world that I thought only existed in movies, and as I read of other people's horrors I can better appreciate my own, and put my trials into perspective with the world...
Sunday, November 07, 2010
For the last goddamn time I DON'T HATE MEN!
Pour exemple, all my favourite teachers are men. And no, they're not my favourite teachers just because they're men, you sick twisted people :).
Pour exemple, I have a lot of male friends. They're not douchepackers like themen boys idiots that I have dated.
I know that the amount of douchepackers is small and decreasing, but even one douchepacker of any sex in this world can have devastating impact. And believe it or not, I don't write all that stuff about guys without reason. Don't you think it would take a pretty stuffed up chick who has had some pretty stuffed up experiences to write stuff like that?
As for me only ever writing about douchepacker dudes, that is not true. Please don't say that. I go through lulls, I know, but I do make an effort to vary the subject topic of my blog, believe it or not.
And last of all, this is my blog. Unbelievably, I don't write so that people can call me a male-hating bitch. My blog only represents a certain part of me, an outlet to things I cannot say but I can write of, like my ever-increasing frustration with certain members of the male sex. I don't write (much) about sunshine and daisies and how we're all good little children who live in a happy, happy world because a) that's not true b) it's boring and c) that's all I'm ever allowed to say, so why would I write about it too?
Pour exemple, all my favourite teachers are men. And no, they're not my favourite teachers just because they're men, you sick twisted people :).
Pour exemple, I have a lot of male friends. They're not douchepackers like the
I know that the amount of douchepackers is small and decreasing, but even one douchepacker of any sex in this world can have devastating impact. And believe it or not, I don't write all that stuff about guys without reason. Don't you think it would take a pretty stuffed up chick who has had some pretty stuffed up experiences to write stuff like that?
As for me only ever writing about douchepacker dudes, that is not true. Please don't say that. I go through lulls, I know, but I do make an effort to vary the subject topic of my blog, believe it or not.
And last of all, this is my blog. Unbelievably, I don't write so that people can call me a male-hating bitch. My blog only represents a certain part of me, an outlet to things I cannot say but I can write of, like my ever-increasing frustration with certain members of the male sex. I don't write (much) about sunshine and daisies and how we're all good little children who live in a happy, happy world because a) that's not true b) it's boring and c) that's all I'm ever allowed to say, so why would I write about it too?
Some People Are Gay. Get Over It.
So, there is this English charity that's making a stand against homophobia. The message? some people are gay. Get over it.
One thing I should make clear is that I'm not gay, and I would prefer if I don't get homophobic comments or death threats because I'm not even gay, anyway. Because of this, people often ask 'So why do you care so much about gays anyway?' The answer? I feel sorry for those kids dying of AIDS and malaria. I'm not one of them, but I can still feel sorry for them.
It's disgusting in this day and age that we can't get over something that really should be private, anyway. Who cares if someone is gay, straight or bi? It doesn't bother anyone. As far as I know gays haven't done anything against us straight people so I don't know why we are so against them. It's like being born with brown hair or blue eyes - people are born gay.
I was looking through the youtube comments on Katy Perry's 'Firework' video, which features a gay man coming out and kissing another man in a pub as one of the 'fireworks', and people were being so homophobic, saying that it was against God and a sin and that as a public figure Katy Perry shouldn't be advocating it. Recent studies show that nearly all mammal species have evidence of gay numbers, so it's quite clearly not going against nature or God or being or whatever. Being gay is not a sin, just like being Asian is not a sin and being a woman is not a sin. Why do I feel like in this day and age you still have to be white and straight and male to get things your way? In fact, that's not even true. Not even white and straight males get it their way, because there's always going to be something against anyone that they can't change.
More people in the 'Some People Are Gay. Get Over It' campaign:
nerimon
charlieissocoollike
And so, I now have a Stonewall icon where you can donate to this anti-homophobia charity - I would myself but I don't have any money for gay people or otherwise. Wah.
One thing I should make clear is that I'm not gay, and I would prefer if I don't get homophobic comments or death threats because I'm not even gay, anyway. Because of this, people often ask 'So why do you care so much about gays anyway?' The answer? I feel sorry for those kids dying of AIDS and malaria. I'm not one of them, but I can still feel sorry for them.
It's disgusting in this day and age that we can't get over something that really should be private, anyway. Who cares if someone is gay, straight or bi? It doesn't bother anyone. As far as I know gays haven't done anything against us straight people so I don't know why we are so against them. It's like being born with brown hair or blue eyes - people are born gay.
I was looking through the youtube comments on Katy Perry's 'Firework' video, which features a gay man coming out and kissing another man in a pub as one of the 'fireworks', and people were being so homophobic, saying that it was against God and a sin and that as a public figure Katy Perry shouldn't be advocating it. Recent studies show that nearly all mammal species have evidence of gay numbers, so it's quite clearly not going against nature or God or being or whatever. Being gay is not a sin, just like being Asian is not a sin and being a woman is not a sin. Why do I feel like in this day and age you still have to be white and straight and male to get things your way? In fact, that's not even true. Not even white and straight males get it their way, because there's always going to be something against anyone that they can't change.
More people in the 'Some People Are Gay. Get Over It' campaign:
nerimon
charlieissocoollike
And so, I now have a Stonewall icon where you can donate to this anti-homophobia charity - I would myself but I don't have any money for gay people or otherwise. Wah.
Friday, November 05, 2010
Teenagedom.
Growing up these days is hard for a girl.
For one, the expectations on us are ridiculous, and largely unspoken. It's all about shaved legs and plucked eyebrows and smooth skin and ridiculous figures that none of us will ever get. Me? You know, sometimes I just too damn lazy to shave my legs. I look up from the bath at the razor from it's stupid plastic wall caddy and I jus think 'I hate you.' My eyebrows..I don't even want to talk about my eyebrows. They're horrible. And I'm a size twelve desperately trying to Zumba away last year's post-dumping binge, but really, I have nothing against being a size twelve. Real women have curves.
And then there are boys.
Teenage boys and teenage girls are very different, which is why teenage relationships very rarely last. Teenage girls go through a lot of shit, and we're on this permament rollercoaster, whether you like it or not. One moment you're playing cops and robbers with the boys and being immature about 'boy germs', and then the next minute you've got boobs and you have to carry pads in your bag and hair starts popping up in random places and your bum gets really big and then you find yourself drooling over that boy in your Social Science class even though he's skinny and pimply and you know deep in your heart he's really not good enough for you but you act as though you're not good enough for him and he kind of goes along with that, which is sad.
Boys at my age are heartbreakingly immature. I'm not being sexist, but teenage boys are simply not capable of living up to an average teenage girl's grand hopes and dreams on love and marriage and boys and sex and babies. I mean, seriously, most teenage girls, if it wasn't for education and starting a career, are emotionally ready for a long term relationship and marriage and babies, and apart from the aforesaid education and career-building it's really the boys that make the average marriage age 24 and not 14. Six years of the most epic fail nonexistant love life has made me realize that children have this thing in their brain called immaturity. At the age of twelve it falls out of a girl's brain and she grows up, but in boys it matures into this disasterous thing of sexism and horniness and cruelty and hypocrisy and ridiculously high expectations on girls and whatever other else I can badmouth about my exes, and the sad thing is sometimes this thing in boy brains never falls out.
From the time I lost that beautifully innocent time of 'boy germs' and when I started to fall in love too often and too deeply for my own good I have often seen this inequality in the sexes. This ingrained biological need to be wanted and loved and adored and to be wanting and loving and adorable has turned the tables on us, and has allowed men to stamp over even the most hard-hearted of feminists. Now I look back at some of the incredibly lame and degrading things I have done in the name of love and I curse myself for not being stronger, and for not waiting until boys turn into men, not waiting for someone who might actually be worth my while. But yet it's still there, and I'm still going at it, I'm still chasing the unchaseable, no matter how hard I try to supress it or deny it.
Nature has allowed men incredible liberties, and yet nowadays men don't even open doors for you, or stand when you enter a room or offer you their seat. Nowadays it's not even enough to wait until boys become men, because for most of them...they'll never be men. They'll never be worth it, but we chase them anyway.
For one, the expectations on us are ridiculous, and largely unspoken. It's all about shaved legs and plucked eyebrows and smooth skin and ridiculous figures that none of us will ever get. Me? You know, sometimes I just too damn lazy to shave my legs. I look up from the bath at the razor from it's stupid plastic wall caddy and I jus think 'I hate you.' My eyebrows..I don't even want to talk about my eyebrows. They're horrible. And I'm a size twelve desperately trying to Zumba away last year's post-dumping binge, but really, I have nothing against being a size twelve. Real women have curves.
And then there are boys.
Teenage boys and teenage girls are very different, which is why teenage relationships very rarely last. Teenage girls go through a lot of shit, and we're on this permament rollercoaster, whether you like it or not. One moment you're playing cops and robbers with the boys and being immature about 'boy germs', and then the next minute you've got boobs and you have to carry pads in your bag and hair starts popping up in random places and your bum gets really big and then you find yourself drooling over that boy in your Social Science class even though he's skinny and pimply and you know deep in your heart he's really not good enough for you but you act as though you're not good enough for him and he kind of goes along with that, which is sad.
Boys at my age are heartbreakingly immature. I'm not being sexist, but teenage boys are simply not capable of living up to an average teenage girl's grand hopes and dreams on love and marriage and boys and sex and babies. I mean, seriously, most teenage girls, if it wasn't for education and starting a career, are emotionally ready for a long term relationship and marriage and babies, and apart from the aforesaid education and career-building it's really the boys that make the average marriage age 24 and not 14. Six years of the most epic fail nonexistant love life has made me realize that children have this thing in their brain called immaturity. At the age of twelve it falls out of a girl's brain and she grows up, but in boys it matures into this disasterous thing of sexism and horniness and cruelty and hypocrisy and ridiculously high expectations on girls and whatever other else I can badmouth about my exes, and the sad thing is sometimes this thing in boy brains never falls out.
From the time I lost that beautifully innocent time of 'boy germs' and when I started to fall in love too often and too deeply for my own good I have often seen this inequality in the sexes. This ingrained biological need to be wanted and loved and adored and to be wanting and loving and adorable has turned the tables on us, and has allowed men to stamp over even the most hard-hearted of feminists. Now I look back at some of the incredibly lame and degrading things I have done in the name of love and I curse myself for not being stronger, and for not waiting until boys turn into men, not waiting for someone who might actually be worth my while. But yet it's still there, and I'm still going at it, I'm still chasing the unchaseable, no matter how hard I try to supress it or deny it.
Nature has allowed men incredible liberties, and yet nowadays men don't even open doors for you, or stand when you enter a room or offer you their seat. Nowadays it's not even enough to wait until boys become men, because for most of them...they'll never be men. They'll never be worth it, but we chase them anyway.
I remember.
When I was twelve,
I had a crush on that tall boy,
He had blue eyes,
And he set my heart on fire.
When I was twelve I
Had my heart broken for the first time,
To him I was
Just a fat little girl,
But little did he know,
Little did he know...
After school I'd come home laughing or crying,
And I'd pick up a pen,
Scribbles then are words now,
And those words will go down in history when
I say 'I remember him.'
First year in high school,
I had a crush on the boy on the cricket team,
He was a basketballer,
And he knew how to play the love game.
First year in high school,
I loved another girl's sweetheart,
To him I was
That girl who would wait forever at the back door,
But little did he know,
Little did he know,
After school I'd come home laughing or crying,
And I'd pick up my pen.
Scribbles then are words now,
And those words will go down in history when
I say 'I remember him.'
Now I'm a sophomore,
And there are those dumb blonde girls,
Who don't really like me,
Cause I actually have a brain.
Now I'm a sophomore,
I'm supposed to be a big girl,
But to them I'm just easy meat
For them to pick on.
But little do they know,
Little do they know...
When I come home from school laughing or crying
I do what I always do,
And pick up my pen.
Scribbles then are words now,
And these words will go down in history when
I say 'I remember them.'
Little do you know,
Every time you make me cry,
I can turn my tears into words,
And words into stories.
Little do you know,
That this brain that you tease me for,
This heart that you broke before,
Will be your fall...
Because, you know,
You never did treat me well,
You always made me cry.
I was just a little girl,
And you never told me why.
So don't expect me to make you into a hero.
Because,
Because of you I came home crying,
And whenever I did,
I'd always pick up a pen.
So I guess this is my way of thanking you
For sleepless nights,
And teary eyes,
And broken hearts,
And shattered dreams,
...and some really great stories.
I had a crush on that tall boy,
He had blue eyes,
And he set my heart on fire.
When I was twelve I
Had my heart broken for the first time,
To him I was
Just a fat little girl,
But little did he know,
Little did he know...
After school I'd come home laughing or crying,
And I'd pick up a pen,
Scribbles then are words now,
And those words will go down in history when
I say 'I remember him.'
First year in high school,
I had a crush on the boy on the cricket team,
He was a basketballer,
And he knew how to play the love game.
First year in high school,
I loved another girl's sweetheart,
To him I was
That girl who would wait forever at the back door,
But little did he know,
Little did he know,
After school I'd come home laughing or crying,
And I'd pick up my pen.
Scribbles then are words now,
And those words will go down in history when
I say 'I remember him.'
Now I'm a sophomore,
And there are those dumb blonde girls,
Who don't really like me,
Cause I actually have a brain.
Now I'm a sophomore,
I'm supposed to be a big girl,
But to them I'm just easy meat
For them to pick on.
But little do they know,
Little do they know...
When I come home from school laughing or crying
I do what I always do,
And pick up my pen.
Scribbles then are words now,
And these words will go down in history when
I say 'I remember them.'
Little do you know,
Every time you make me cry,
I can turn my tears into words,
And words into stories.
Little do you know,
That this brain that you tease me for,
This heart that you broke before,
Will be your fall...
Because, you know,
You never did treat me well,
You always made me cry.
I was just a little girl,
And you never told me why.
So don't expect me to make you into a hero.
Because,
Because of you I came home crying,
And whenever I did,
I'd always pick up a pen.
So I guess this is my way of thanking you
For sleepless nights,
And teary eyes,
And broken hearts,
And shattered dreams,
...and some really great stories.
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