stay beautiful.

I just want you to know that you're always the highlight of my day.

I just want you to know that I love you dearly, and I'm always happy that you're happy.

I just want you to know that I'll always be there for you, and I hope you'll always be there for me. 

I just want you to know that you mean the world to me, even though you're a massive pain in the arse with a cute accent.

I just want you to know that it's lovely having someone to talk to.

I just want you to know that I'm so glad that we are friends.

I just want you to know that you're really going to be someone, ask anyone.

I just want you to know that I hope everything turns out okay for you.

I just want you to know that you find everything you're looking for. 

I just want you to know that I hope she's amazing.

I just want you to know that I hope that one day I'll find someone as amazing as you are.

stay beautiful.

Happy Easter, Everbody!

I know I am known to take long blogging siestas for no apparent reason, but I thought I might let y'all know that I'm skaboodling away from civilization for a bit.

Four days away from running water. Lovely.

Truth be told, I love camping. The deprivation is refreshing - lack of makeup, lack of internet, lack of anything else but a good book and good times. 

Anyway, I hope you have a good Easter, whatever Easter means to you - because I'm an immoral and indifferent atheist it means snoozing in the car with my baby and my iPod whilst the countryside tumbles by.

I'll be back to the tumultuous dramas of reality soon.  

good intent

i love the surrealism of casual fridaY
i have never befOre talked to fate
or to a genie
or to a rUbik's cube

or been embraced by chocolate eyes.

i love hoW the surreAlism contiNues
only for a momenT or two
you makE your cameo

because that is all you ever Do...

i love The fleeting secOnds
when your reputation is transcended
by your good intent.

it's when the surrealism ends
that the tears start falling.
if only we could stay in a world
where you and i are equals.
 
i had to swallow a lot of pride
to let you back in.
it is not always easy
being that person
nobody wants to be seen with.
that's when the tears start falling. 

it is a waltz of hypocrisy
that lifts me from the slums of loneliness. 

it's when i bunK dowN fOr the night
in the cold
that the tears start falling.

i told you i don't mind;

i don't.
but still.

i know there's no conspiracy
when tWo hearts meet.

but i knoW tHis isn't a two waY street. 

I know you didn't mean it. 
you meant so well.

inspired by Cameo loveR, good intent and two waY street by kimbra.

the guilt of being a writer.

Would you believe me if I told you that this blog is only half of what I write?

Maybe more than half.

But, I write for myself. Stories. Things with a coherent beginning, middle, end. Characters.

Ah, characters.

I am not the kind of person who can dream up particularly original characters. All my characters are based on people. Me, mostly, because I know myself best. But there are others...

There are some characters that I call revenge characters. When I say that they'll regret hurting me, I mean what I say.

There are others, I just copy things from them. It almost feels like plaguerism, but they haven't copyrighted their eye colour, the way they lope down the corridors. It makes characters interesting, when they're real.

But now I am presented with every writer's dilemma. How much is too much? Everything I write I know, everything I write he has told me, or I have seen for myself. I cut and copy from my own inventory. Everything I write is how I feel, how I felt, how things, people, make me think. I add things on, because it's a story and not a diary - a bit more drama, but the bare bones are real and raw. It's all anonymous, but it's not a particularly flattering image I have created.

But when someone is a friend, a friend who has hurt you but now you're all over that, is it okay to still write about it? Surely if anyone leaves a mark like that, that becomes a personal experience? Am I breaking any unwritten privacy laws? Is it not bad enough that I cry myself to sleep in private, am I not even allowed to write about that, either? 

Sometimes I feel like I have too much power, as a writer. If I wanted to I could expose so much about people, lie and cheat until they become truly detestable. The medium I write, it doesn't matter what's fact and what's fiction as long as it's all scandalous and exciting.

I'm sorry if I pull your story apart. I'm sorry if you think I'm crazy or if anyone who reads it will think that you're crazy. It's all anonymous, but we all have brains. It's just what I do. My experiences are all research. 

But I will tell you this. What I write about anyone is the truth to me. It's how I felt, how you are. I won't change that. I'll put us in a dystopic futuristic city where you and I are both high on Mary Jane, but it doesn't matter whether it's here or on Mars you and I will be who we are, and I'll paint that the best I can. The story might be different but the character wil lbe the same in fact and in fiction. And you know I don't believe in censoring anything. 

the unbearable loneliness of being.

When you have Asperger's Syndrome, you become a bit of a sadist.

It is quite frightening to have such unconscious and uncontrollable desires to hurt people. I can control it, but only to a certain extent - which is why I am quite harsh at times; sardonic, sarcastic, indifferent. I cannot look some people in the eye without wishing them ill. For others, there are no words to say; I cannot relate to them, I have no empathy with the bold and the beautiful. It is easier amongst friends, because lack of empathy is not lack of affection, but now they are fewer and fewer and there are more and more people towards whom I can feel nothing but resentment. It is harder amongst people I love, hate, people who have cut deep and who I have pretended to forgive and forget. To forgive implies empathy, and to forget implies sympathy; sometimes I have neither. Empathy is not an instinct for me; it is something that I have learned, carefully forged to mimic others. I can turn it off at will; sometimes it just stays off for as long as I like, with frightening results.

Did you know that lack of empathy can cause you to overthink things?

Take a chocolate, for example. My English teacher gives out chocolates as 'brain food', and I happen to get quite a few. And the first thought in my head? Mine. That is mine, it is mine, give it to me. It's all me me me. It takes me a little while to stop, think, realize that I don't like chocolate, and to think of who to give it to, then I dwell endlessly on who to give it to. So many people ask me for it, and sometimes I flick it over casually - it's just a chocolate, after all. But sometimes, I say no no no. For the first few people, it's because it is mine. For the rest, it's because my mind works overtime to think of who to give it to, who best deserves it. But that calculation comes after my initial reaction of greed, of possession. For anyone else who is given a chocolate who doesn't like chocolate, choosing who should be given the chocolate is the instinctual thought. Not for me, though. I can only empathise with myself out of instinct. Empathy for others is...harder.

Sometimes my lack of empathy goes out of control. At the moment there is someone I just want to box around the ears for causing me so much humiliation. It is really only decorum that is stopping me, because I haven't a shred of sympathy left.

And then there is another...another person who has half of my heart. I have spent more than three years flirting, falling in love, being dumped, rejected, by other people. But that was only half...my thoughts have always come back to the same person, no matter how many people I love or hate. Anyone with half a brain can see traces of it here, snaking around the ups and downs of my life. It's not entirely rational or reasonable, more a coincidence than a compliment - I suppose that I must be thankful that you are who you are, and I haven't fallen in love with Jack the Ripper because, knowing me, that would be something I would do.

Love is a vulnerability I do not particularly like. It forces me to think for once in my selfish life, of other people, but it also exposes me to more deliberate selfishness. High school is simply a mass congregation of the most selfish people on earth, and our high school is a mass congregation of the smartest of the selfish. The kinds of love that I have had for people, the kind of relationships I have with some people...quite frankly, they're not healthy. They're possessive, aggressive, addictive and, when all things come to nothing, a waste of time and energy. But the best part of love, for me, for now, is that it lets me be empathatic in ways that I am otherwise incapable of. You call it kindness.

 Lack of empathy sometimes is truly horrible. For a long time - perhaps I just never thought about it properly - I thought that, if I loved someone and they didn't love me back, they were truly just trying to hurt me, and my anger would match my disappointment. It is why it was the hardest thing for me to get over K and all the other boys, because it was much more than loss or humiliation, it was a personal grudge. I could not help but feel that they had wronged me, because I was too selfish to understand that you cannot help who you do and do not love. 

I must admit I was angry when you dredged up what I had almost lost. I had become largely indifferent to you, honestly, but now I am glad that we are friends. I was much angrier with you before just recently, when something humbled me, made me realize that love is a curse but nobody is at fault. I will never again be ashamed or guilty for loving, you or anyone, I will never again think myself unworthy. But I have learned not to expect anything from love but disappointment.

Would you believe me if I said that, now, I am honestly content with being your friend, and that my grievances with you now are purely our failings as friends? Of course you would not, but it's true. If anybody in the world wanted me, at least for now, I would say no. This is the loneliest time of my life and I cannot share this unbearable loneliness with anyone, not you or Cristy or anyone else because I would not wish solitude on anyone, least of all the people I love. Which is why I do not mind that we are only friends in a strange, metaphysical sense of the word. I have reached the point when I can get on with my life, focus on more important things; I'm not fighting back tears anymore, but every day reminds me of what I used to have and what I have lost. I do not think for a second that your friends would be sympathetic to a more public friendship between you and I. I am always happy to be there for you, but I am happier still that you have what I do not, and that is a kind of love. I am glad that you will never be as unhappy as I am now, and it would break my heart if you were. Of course, this kind of empathy is borne out of something more than just friendship - especially for me -  but that's kind of gone now. A few months ago I had it all and I was prepared to stretch out and snatch something else, but not now. Not now. But, your friendship is a great comfort to me, and it is nice to know that despite the unbearable loneliness of being there are still a few people willing to check that I am okay. I love your jokes, your conversation, even your endless screwups and your endless apologies, and although I am cynical and sardonic and mocking to you in real life, you are helping me more than you know, and I will always help you despite everything.

Puppies and Nazis, Anyone?

Tied Together With a Smile, Jnr.

in parenthesis, this post is also called Anyway ;P

Urgh, I am *really* pissed off because I wrote this deep, meaningful (and let's face it, slightly kooky because I am who I am) blog post, and then just as I pressed "publish" Firefox went and crashed. And Blogger decided that it was nap-nap time for the autosave function.

FML.

Anyway.

I came across this song recently called Tied Together With a Smile, by Taylor Swift. And yes, I know, that was released AAAAAGES ago, but I'm a bit slow with these things. And I bought my Taylor Swift albums out of order: Speak Now first, because I was really excited when it was released, and then Fearless and Taylor Swift later because...they were on sale 'cause they were that old...

Anyway, Tied Together With a Smile goes like this:

I guess it's true that love was all you wanted,

'Cause you're giving it away like its extra change.

Hoping it will end up in his pocket,

But he left you out like a penny in the rain.

'Cause it's not his price to pay,

Not his price to pay...

Hold on, baby, you're losing it,

The water's high, you're jumping into it

And letting go...

And no one knows you cry,

But you don't tell anyone

That you might not be the golden one,

And you're tied together with a smile,

But you're coming undone...

When I first heard it, I thought of how I used to be.

But then, I realized...have I changed much from that?

Occasionally, people will accuse me of being a little pretentious because sometimes I run around like a madwoman, giggling like a flirt and laughing like a hyena. Or sometimes I just smile dreamily at the sunlight through the trees, or I sit and watch the ants go marching. It's hard to tell people that it's all the other times that I'm pretending; the cool detachment and the cold indifference. I used to be bubbly. Now it only shows in little glimmers, little sparkles. It only really happens when I'm really, really happy; when I'm high on love, or life, or both. Sometimes I don't need a reason to be happy. Children never need a reason to be happy, they're just so drunk on life. I used to be like that. I miss that.  

But sometimes...it happens just before I crack. The calm before the tempest, if you will. Sometimes I really am tied together with a smile.

sunlight through the trees

have you ever wondered
what has happened
in the history of the world

so that you can just lie on the grass
let the heat shimmer on your thighs
listen to the birds singing
and watch
the sunlight through the trees

?

would i be here
here and now
if anne boleyn had died
an old woman in her bed?

would i be here
here and now
if you hadn't said the things
that you have have said?

you have become

finally

the kind of person i can say this to.

i see now
you're much like me.

you have my anger.

and

oh god

how it scares me...

i used to amuse myself
with endless possibilities...
things that would never happen.

but now i can see the sinister glow
in the sunlight through the trees.

i am not
the little girl
i used to be.

the most frightening part is
it is desperately,
heartbreakingly,
so breathtakingly beautiful.

and i will never think otherwise.
of it,
of me,
and of you.

Fire to Ice

So what should I do with you now, Caesar?
I swore I would never speak to you again.

But it seems to me
You have kept me
Cryogenically

And you would set fire to ice.

Do you enjoy being irresistible?
I do not like being vulnerable.

But I do honestly enjoy your company.
Even if I wasn't insane enough to let my heart win. 

How did you put it?
"intense and abrupt"

I always knew you had it in you.

Have your cake and eat it, then.
I am not likely to say no.

Shit Single Girls Say

"Can I just platonically lean on you for a bit? My heels are killing me."

"Oh Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?"

"Joseph! Why have you come to the theatre dressed like Goebbels?"

"I am under no obligation to listen to you garble on about computer games, or hair gel, or kung fu, or Star Trek...did you want me to start talking about PMS?"

"No, you may not call Kim Jong Il and tell him his mistress is missing."

"Oy! Eyes up here, sweetie" 
"Can I take your digits?"
"No, not in a million years, you're nasty, please leave me alone" (With apologies to Lily Allen)

"Give me a SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGN, hit me baby one more TIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIME!"

"Sorry, Cristy, but I am sincerely not sorry for perving on that random guy over there."

"Heart shaped lips. Yummy."

"I am a nun, I'm going to die a nun, I am a nun nun nun!"

"16 years NBK and counting..."

"Cheers, Cristy."
"What are we toasting to?"
"SINGLE LIFE SUCKS!"
"Agreed."

"I...totally have a boyfriend. He's Korean. He doesn't speak English. No, I don't have his number...they don't have phones in North Korea..."

"I genuinely, sincerely do not know my number" (that is true. Ask me for my number and  I won't have the foggiest idea what to say. I could give you my mother's, though...)

"I am an empowered, independent woman and I do not need a ma-....oooooh, he's cute...."

"Women's rights may change, but hormones never will."

"I'll be your Lizzy if you'll be my Darcy..." 

"Crampy and disgusting ladies, I am a beached whale and I'm going to die of blood loss."

"All the single ladies, all the single ladies, all the single ladies put your hands up!"

(I obviously don't talk like this all the time, and I don't talk about boys, the absence of boys or the annoyance that is boys all the time. The Shit People Say thing is just compiling funny things a group of people might say. I just wanted to illustrate the gender dynamics from the perspective of an eternally (and, at the present, very happily) single schoolgirl)