jumping the gun a bit.

As I make my way to my second to last year eleven finals, I have in my head resolved that next year I will do things a little differently.

All in all, I'm proud of how I've done this year. I've seen so many overconfident year tens crash and burn under the pressure of senior school, but I've borne the brunt of it and walked away relatively unscathed. Sure, I get tired and lazy and addicted to YouTube at times, but I've managed to get through the year in the good books, without failing too many things.

To me it was very important that I keep myself calm and relatively untroubled by year eleven. Too many people freak out and are burnt out by too many overnighters by the time year twelve hits - and that, my friends, is the big cheese. I took it easy. Tried not to obsess over marks. And I think it's paid off. I look forward to year twelve with much excitement and energy, and that was the main goal of year eleven.

Next year I will study more. Blog less. Work harder. Set more academic goals. Get iTunes set up again so that I can listen to music without the temptation of videos (ATM I listen to all my music on YouTube).

Next year I hope to:

1. Walk and get some fresh air at least once, if not twice a day (at least twice on weekends).
2. Set up to-do lists for each study session.
3. Only go on YouTube AFTER to-do list has been exhausted.
4. Write practice essays for each of my subjects at least once a fortnight (I have been very lazy about this, but I know it will help my Modern History.)
5. Use more sites other than Wikipedia (my Ancient History teacher warned me that the year twelve ancient history teacher has zero tolerance for Wikipedia)
6. Go to bed at ten. Sharp.
7. Wake up at six to study in the morning.
8. Continue to obsess about 90s for English and Lit (it is good for me. It doesn't sound like it, but it is. Trust me.)

I think that's it!

archiving is embarassing.

I honestly have no idea what was going through my head as a twelve and thirteen year old. I'm nearly sixteen, and quite frankly, the person I was four years ago is ridiculous. How could I have called all those people friends? Why did I write this and that? Why did I think I was being so witty and clever and funny? And WHY OH WHY did I fall in love so hard and so fast? Okay, I still do, but at least words like 'phwar' don't pop up too often now here. Except for Mathew Baynton. Phwar. But it's okay, because I'll never ever see him. 'Phwar' is not an appropriate word for a person you have to spend lots of time with.

I wish there was a polite way to tell a younger, innocent self that I might as well be a nun for all the luck I've had in love. Nothing is fair in love and war.

to my, like, wonderful readers LOL

I don't, um, really live in the world of like ROFL like LOL.

I mean, I like, live in it but I don't really get it. LOL.

This isn't really, um....a blog 4, like, peeps who don't know how 2 like, y'know, talk properly. Gottit? gr8. I like, um...don't really care if you, like, know my like ex-bf or whatevs man because y'know what? We, like, go 2 the same skool so I can, like, see all of U laughing and shiz. I mean, like, whatevs man. Totes not cool. Sum peeps don't like telling the whole world that they a) can't talk properly and b) don't understand anything.

Ok? TTFN!

I may possibly take a leetle weetle break...

Exams + vacation: possibly inactive Lady Solitaire.

I don't know how much time/access I'll have to this blog in the coming weeks, so I might take a summer snoozer. December 2011 may be the first time in THREE YEARS OF BLOGGING I have failed to post anything!

To keep you busy, here are my personal favourite internet haunts (I don't spend all my time here, you know):

Dirty Diaper Laundry - don't get put off by the title. Kim Rosas is a work at home wife and mother, and a super awesome environmentalist/cloth diaper advocate. You could watch the 200+ cloth diaper reviews but if you're not having babies then that's just a bit weird - she does have a personal blog which is baby related, but not so much. Kim is so not your average WAHM - she's funny, insightful, intelligent and down to earth. Also check out oatmealr, which is a YouTube channel dedicated entirely to her cute-as-pie sons, Fletcher and Everett.

Mama Natural - One of my all time favourite vlogs - Genevieve Damascus posts twice weekly on natural living, parenting, and life with her GORGEOUS baby GriffyD (CUTEST BABY I HAVE EVER SEEN) and her hubby, Mike. Warning: following this blog may lead to GWS (Griffin Withdrawal Syndrome) as the cute bub doesn't appear in every single video...nooo...

Karen Cheng - A Perth favourite. Food, fashion and family life.

Charlieissocoollike - I don't actually know any teenage girl who doesn't follow/obsessively stalk this Brit. Seriously.

HORRIBLE HISTORIES - Just type in 'Horrible Histories' into YouTube and go MAD! It's CRAZY FUN! (yes, I did just do about 20 links to Horrible Histories.)

Kurthugoschneider - Uh-May-Zing.

MetroDad - he doesn't post often, but when he does, it's gold.

Nigahiga - because nerdy Asianness isn't just skin deep.

Megan Nicole, Savannah Outen, Caitlin Hart, Tiffany Alvord - internet talent, sans Autotune. Good times.

So...probably adieu...for now...

Vanity vs. Morality

I am now a size six, 32DD. Mwahahaha....

....not really.

A few weeks ago I was a model for one of my friend's photography project, in which she was making fake Levi jeans adverts. The photoshoot involved me, then nearly 60kg, prancing around in baggy jeans (jeans and I don't have the best working relationship) and very unflattering tank tops. I didn't mind too much because a) I should not be judged by my spare tires and b) I knew it would be edited to oblivion anyway.

I saw the end results and I must firstly say that my friend is very competent at all this photography editing stuff. Looking at the pictures, you'd probably think that the model was a spot free, size six, 6 foot model with a nonexistant waist. But it's not. It's a heavily edited picture of a short, spotty, dumpy teenager.

I am fundamentally opposed to photoshopping adverts. I have been all too often a victim of the portrayal of unhealthy body images and, as a sufferer of depression, I take attacks on self-esteem very seriously. Young girls these days have too many things to worry about.

But, this is where my vanity kicks in. I am just a normal, hormonal, teenage girl. I have my insecurities, but more importantly, I have my own vanities. I love looking good. I love how I look in those photos, even though I know if I were that skinny in reality I would be very, very unhealthy (and I wouldn't have such big jugs). But I can't help loving how I look in those pictures. I've been brainwashed. I'm still opposed to photoshop, but I can't help but like how I look with photoshop. You can't win.

So I'm a hypocrite. I know. But at least I'm hot.

eating a very, very humble pie.

I have absolutely no problem in saying that I am cocky. I know what I am good at, and I'm damn proud of what I'm good at. We all have a right to be so.

However, I'm not too proud to concede defeat. I'm not the sort who cannot fly a white flag. I'm not scared of admitting that I've stuffed up, and asking for a second chance. I know my faults, and I know where I go wrong. My ego's been deflated but it's a learning experience.And now I am eating a very, very humble pie.

I remember vividly the very first essay I got back when I first skipped a grade. I was fresh out of primary school and I had no idea how to write an essay, no concept of academic writing. I gave it my best shot and prayed for the best. At that time I was a very cocky kid, terrified of failure. At least, that's what I thought.

I must tell you that I set very different standards for myself than other people, and I have very different standards for some subjects than others. For example, for all of my subjects I am perfectly happy with 70s and 80s, and so are my teachers. But for English and Lit I will fight tooth and nail to get 90s. It's just how I work.

Anyway.

I got this first paper back, and it was a 73%. 22 out of 30. This was a top class where a good half of them were getting 31 (English teachers are not known for their mathematical skills). An utter failure for my standards. Even now, I still cry a little when I don't get a 90. But back then I didn't feel shocked, or sad, or try to justify my failure with 'I've just skipped a grade'. I had lived for eight years getting nothing less than perfect for my reading and writing. It made me restless - knowing I wasn't yet a good writer, but not knowing how to make myself better; knowing I didn't yet deserve perfect scores, but getting them because teachers couldn't be bothered, or simply couldn't, dig deep and pull out some flaw. I had lived for eight years helping teachers mark work, helping teachers mark my own work, writing and working without a single praise or critique. And here was a teacher willing to scribble out page after page of what I didn't do, what I did wrong, and what I could do better. Nothing was harsh or cynical or judgemental. It was you suck the big one, but in a nice way.

I left year nine, as a year eight, a perfect 30 student. Every essay I got back that wasn't perfect, there was always help and guidance, and more importantly, an internalized drive to do better.

I realize now that I have lost this. I'd gotten lazy, overly confident that I wouldn't slip too far even if I didn't put the work in. Don't get me wrong, I did work very hard on this particular disaster, but hard work is futile if you haven't got the bitterness of failure on your tongue. I was fighting against failure, but I had forgotten what failure was like. I'd forgotten what it was like to fall short of my own expectations.

I could have endless, perfectly-valid excuses as to why I had missed the mark. I have skipped a grade, after all. What I did end up getting is more than most people dream of. It's not such a bad mark, and, in the grand scheme of things, English isn't going to count towards anything, Yeah, that's true. But I didn't take English so I could flunk it, and waste my time. I took English because I love it, because I'm good at it, and because I grow and learn so much in English. And yes, the mark I did get isn't so bad. In another subject, I'd probably very happy. But I have my own standards. I know what is good and bad for me, and state averages aren't much of a comfort to me. An Olympic swimmer isn't going to be satisfied with what I would consider a fast lap time, but he'd probably take my essay scores, even my 'bad 'ones, anyday. All I know is that I normally do better, and now I feel bad. 

So I'm going to do it again. I'm going to take a break, catch my breath, and throw myself into it. Just like I did, a long time ago, as a scared year eight girl out in the big world.

But for now, I have to finish my very, very humble pie.

Operation Get Fit: The rewards, or, how to get a glutton to lose weight.

Update: Aunt Flo being a bit temperamental, but otherwise I am down to about 54.5kg. Woot!

When I was my old 57kg self, I told myself that my life would not get any better if I was skinnier. That there was no point; it wasn't worth the effort. I was in a pretty happy place, and I'd been skinnier before, but I'd also been unhappier before. I had lost, probably for the greater good, the connection between weight and happiness. But just because I was happy being 57kg doesn't mean I would necessarily be happy and continue to pile on weight. I had reached 57kg after a 7kg slippery slope since my first bout of depression three or four years ago. My reasons for eating had changed, but the point was I was still eating, eating, eating.

I am a self-confessed, happy-go-lucky glutton. I have always loved food - specifically, I love good food. Food makes me happy. Going to my favourite restaurant and realizing the food has turned shit is akin to being dumped. The consequence of my epicurean habits is that I have often used food as an anti-depressant. Not such a good idea when I suffer from depression. Food as an anti-depressant + person who suffers from depression = one fat, depressed person.

So here is how I to get a glutton to lose weight:

1. Don't quit cold turkey.

You can't quit ice cream cold turkey. In fact, in my opinion, if you do quit ice cream you've lost any reason to live ;). Slow and steady really does win the race.

2. I wish I could lose a dress size every time I walk the dog. But it doesn't work like that.

It has been about 3 weeks since I started Operation Get Fit, and I have lost 2.5kg. This isn't losing a dress size, but it is losing a muffin top. It does work, eventually.

3. Big tip: Eat sloooooowly. 

Multitasking whilst eating is a big no-no. When you're chewing, don't think about what you're going to eat next, or arrange the next mouthful on your fork. When you're hoovering down food you almost always eat too much.


4. The people who love you tell you you're fat.

My mother has been nagging me about my weight for ages. And to be honest, it really hurt to have my own mother tell me I was fat. But the people who really love you tell it like it is. K used to swear I wasn't putting on weight. No points for guessing who's the douchebag out of the two.

5. If you look for them, the rewards come thick and fast.

Things that have changed since I've lost some weight (and this is only 2.5kg!):

1. I no longer have insomnia.
2. No more muffin top!
3. I fit into all my jeans now (jeans hate me, because I'm too short for size 10 but too wide for size 12.)
4. I can climb up two flights of really steep stairs without dying.
5. I can run to class without dying.
6. My boobs look bigger ;P.
7. I'm off ramen. Strange, huh?
8. 'Healthy' options aren't all that gross, as I've found out. Replace salty, oily chips with semi-dried tomatoes and crackers. Yummy.
9. Losing weight isn't as hard as I thought it would be. I still eat - a lot - but I'm already losing weight and I already feel the difference.
10. My weight doesn't fluctuate that much. I mean, it still does, it probably always will. But now the difference is like 1kg, not...you know...7...

 

sometimes it's nice not being all hormonal.

 As you may have guessed, I am a bit of a lovebug.

I'm not exactly a love magnet, but that's another story.

But sometimes it's nice having guyfriends. Guys who hold no attraction to you apart from laughs, back massages and good times. As silly and girly as I can be, sometimes all I want to be is one of the boys. I hate being all self conscious and shy around guys, especially when I know I'm wasting my time and that nothing's going to happen, ever. It's tiring and frustrating and in the end, I'm the one who ends up getting hurt.

There are a handful of guys now that I'm truly comfortable around, and for a change, the non-romanticness is mutual and comfortable. We talk about school and stuff. I can ask them someting academic without worrying about sounding nerdy. It doesn't matter if I'm not wearing makeup, my hair's a mess, etc. There's lots of hair ruffling and shoulder punching and sitting on laps. No kissing, no flirting, no hugging, no asking out, no goo goo eyes. Just how I like it.

I haven't had effortlessly platonic relationships with boys for ages and ages and ages, and it's endlessly frustrating. I remember back when I was little I had lots of friends who were boys and playing with them was some of the best times of my childhood. It was so nice to be around people who haven't got that Inner Female Bitch Gene. I acknowledge I've probably messed up two perfectly good friendships - BSC and K - by falling in love with my best mates. I mean, I love my girlfriends to pieces, but sometimes you need a bit of yang to your ying. Platonic yang.

I think some guys - especially the guys that, ahem, seem to go through girls fairly quickly - are a little envious of all these guys who have lots of girl mates, the kind of guys who have probably never gone out with anyone but have no shortage of female company. In some ways you can be closer to your friends than you ever can with a boyfriend or a girlfriend, because attraction is completely out of the equation - it's like even if I was going out with someone, there would still be some things I'd only talk about with Cristy and my friends and not said boyfriend.

I love being myself. I've tried to be myself around everyone, even people I really, really, really like, but that doesn't always work out. I love being myself, and I love having friends. I don't care that my guyfriends don't look like Brad Pitt, and they don't care that I don't look like Angeline Jolie. Girlfriends - at least my girlfriends - aren't picky like that, and it's probably because the attraction isn't skin deep like so many high school romances. Sometimes with guys, and friendship, romance really is the kiss of death.

Paradise...

dreaming of meeting kindred spirits <3

I feel as if I was made
To walk this earth alone
But people cross my path
Like black cats and
Smashed mirrors
I'm always walking under ladders.

I feel as if I was made
As a kind of trick,
The joke's on me.
I'm walking onto Noah's Ark
Without a pair
I used to be scared, but

Now I cannot take human company,
I dream of something more ethereal.
I have to win this gamble,
I must win this game;
My soulmate will not be fully human,
For I am not fully sane.

When I was just a girl,
I thought I could rule the world.
But now I see,
A queen must have a king.

When I was young and idle
I dreamed of meeting
Friends for life.

I never realized that
I dreamed of nothing short of paradise.

for my partners in crime,
belephant and renegade. 

Inspired by 'Paradise' by Coldplay

Princess of China

if you had hated me
as i loved you
we would have been complete.
yingandyang.

That is the difference between
annabolena
and
anneofcleves.

a crime of passion
is a passion nonetheless.
but to live and die
unwantedandalone
is the greater punishment.

you are the kind of man
who can walk away from
the greatest of prizes.

the kind of man who takes for granted
what other men only dream of.

at least,
that is what i am told.

i was a Princess of China,
you could have been king...

now we are neither,
and as our castle burns down
around
us

you smile.

Inspired by 'Princess of China' by Coldplay.

Incidentally, I am just a little self conscious now that I know exactly who is reading this blog, but life goes on. Or blogging does, at any rate. It's called strength of character, and not being a floozy.