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Sunday, December 19, 2010

It's just a little crush, not like I faint every time we touch...

Friday was No Sleep Til' at the showgrounds.
It was absolutley freezing. The morning started sunny, so I wore a singlet and no jumper. As the day progressed, it got colder and wetter. Fucking icy! The wind chilled me to the bone. It was miserable. I just wanted to get the bands I was there to see over and done with so I could go home to some warmth. Luckily, for Dropkick Murphys I was in the second row (on that little ledge they have at the barrier), so being pressed against so many bodies, even the rain couldn't make me cold anymore. For NOFX I pushed up to the barrier, which was amazing, except for the kicks to the head from crowd surfers, the hair pulling from belts being dragged over my head and my face being buried into sweaty security guards bellies and/or crotches. Apart from the intimacy of the peoples bodies (I'm pretty sure I felt a boner rubbing against my leg at some point), it was amazing. NOFX are brilliant. I preferred their headline show last year, they put in more effort, but thats understandable.
The festival was a giant mindfuck for ones gaydar. All the scenester girls (and well hey, the boys too) look gay. They look like card-carrying gold star dykes! But they're hanging off of boys. My gaydar was just curled up in a corner of my brain crying from confusion. I only saw one girl who was OBVIOUSLY gay, that wasn't making out with another girl, making the need for gaydar redundant. Something about her walk gave it away.
I experienced something fascinating at the festival. The split between crowds. Basically the difference between the hardcore/emo/scenester crowd and the punk/Idon'tgiveafuck crowd. What happened was, having no bands on we were interested in seeing, H and I went to have a puff of one of her...herbal...smokes. We went along to the stage where some crappy tight-jeaned-long-haired-can't-sing-so-i'll-scream band was playing, and the pathetic 'mosh' pit was all scenesters. As we lit up, and the smell wafted, all the scene people started looking around, giggling, and pointing, showing their friends. Have they never seen a joint before? I felt so judged. Compare this to when we were in the punk pit, where people were commenting on the size of the bloody thing and asking for a puff...it blew my mind! I explained my amusement to H, who in her hilarious 'they're all douchebags' way of talking, explained it was because the scene kids are all 'so straight edge and cool-like', whereas the punks just want to get fucked up, and if THEY aren't smokers, they still don't care if YOU are.

I prefer the punks thankyouverymuch.

Thursday night I went to my first ever dyke bar. It was...interesting. As B said at one point, 'they all look like Samantha Ronson, circa. 2005'. I mean, don't get me wrong, some of them were totally hot...but to tell the difference between two...not a chance. As well as this, I also noticed that lesbians are either rubber-bodied-natural-dancers who can bust a move like nobodies business...OR awkward, unco and can bust a move as well as the three legged dog I used to know. I am obscenely jealous of the former, as I am one of those 'have to be really really drunk to dance...and that really only involves a shuffle, unless I'm drunk enough to try a bit of grinding'.

On Thursday and Friday, I discovered that when I move to Melbourne, I want to live on the 86 tram route. Yep. That's where I want to live. Maybe it was just the company I had both times, but I really enjoyed that area. A good two days were had.

Now I am going to head off and wrap some christmas presents. This year I am giving a couple of 'IOU's due to my lack of funds. I hate being jobless. HATE IT!

If I don't write before then, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.


Tuesday, December 7, 2010


I bouted the other day. It made me seriously question my love.

I have been feeling insecure within my league for a while now, I simply feel like I don't fit in. Interstate, both times, I felt like the gooseberry. At home, I feel like the gooseberry. I put in so much effort, for so little credit. I nearly wet myself when one ref, after a recent bout, commented on my performance. I honestly could barely speak I was so chuffed.

Everybody else seems to click, seems to do the whole 'get along' thing so easily. There is so much cattiness, so much cliquiness...I feel like I'm in highschool sometimes.

The reason I question my love after the most recent bout, is because it really did show the cliquiness and blatant rudeness of some people.

The two teams were obviously divided into 'the cool kids' and 'the not-so-cool-kids'. The girls from highschool who bullied, and the musos or arty geeks who got picked on. (For the record, if anybody reads this, don't get narky with me, everybody noticed)

Before the bout, our team (the losers) was told to 'take it easy' due to the inexperience of the new girls. What? If they are not able to take it, why are they playing? We never got 'take it easies'. It has happened before though, so not at all surprising. Anyway, it seems the cool kids team forgot to give the memo to their own. So, first time around, SLAM! We all had the shit knocked out of us. Nice. So much for taking it easy.

It was something like eighty degrees inside the venue, so after five minutes I was already sweating like an animal. Everyones numbers were sweating off, I had sweat pooling inder my boobs from my crop top, breathing was like trying to get oxygen from a balloon. Horrendous. During one jam, I actually stopped functioning, I just went around in circles for a lap or two until the whistle blew, then proceeded to collapse behind the bench and drizzle water over my face. The heat was just exhausting.

Anyway, my point was, even though it was fucking incredible to have the losers beat the cool kids...and to lay a few decent slams onto some worthy opponents, and even though the new girls were fantastic, the atmosphere of the day, and the past few events, have left me feeling less than spectacular. I'll never be in the clique, I don't want to be everybodies best friend, I just want to...I don't know...be something to someone.

Maybe a transfer to elsewhere when I move house? Maybe just a summer break? Who knows. Hopefully the answer reveals itself soon.


I created my own version of Edvard Munch's 'The Scream'. Basically it has nothing to do with the painting, looks nothing like the painting and really has little in common with the motivation of the painting. I say it is my version because I am currently feeling lost, chaotic and confused. All these new ideas and thoughts inside my head are just running riot. I don't know what to think. I don't know how to feel or react to my thinkings. My mind has been turned upside down. I just don't know what to do.
When I see 'The Scream', it seems to say what I'm feeling, confusion and frustration. I was bored, had my webcam and decided to play. This is what I got...

Wednesday, December 1, 2010


My book collection. Note the double layering of some shelves.

I love books. I adore them. I get so absorbed in a book that I forget to eat. I am too impressionable. I always want to experience what I read, even the bad things.

The other day I found the original charactered Enid Blyton 'Wishing Chair' and 'Faraway Tree's. They were $5 each. I had to, even jobless.

I collect kids books. Classics from childhood, beautiful stories, beautiful illustrations. My favourite childrens picture book author is Colin Thompson. He is amazing.

I love biographies, hard luck stories, abuse, mental illness, interesting people...their lives are more interesting than mine, and I love reading about them.

Reference books too. Vocabulary builders, writing guides, obscure word books, dictionaries, psychology reference...things that make me think. Non-fiction is beautiful. My favourites are Foyles Philavery and 120 Banned Books.

Photography, art etc. Amazing. I love having a lovely coffee table book on my lap full of beautiful pictures. Post secret, Dita Von Teese, Nude Bible, Banksy, Monroe, Elephants, Cats...they all make me smile.

I collect 'pretty' books too. Nice vintage (and vintage-looking) hardbacks. Shiny text on the spine. Fabric covering. Wordswroth put out a collection of them, I found them for so cheap. At a market I found a handful of classics for $3. Second hand bookstores are heaven. I have my grandmas copy of a first edition Black Beauty. It's falling apart, but smells divine.

I love books. From young adult trash, smutty lesbian fiction, literary classics, humorous novels to a random novel on the shelf that everybody else overlooks. Just try and stop me from entering a second hand bookstore. The smell entrances me. The words scream at me from the pages. I can lose hours browsing.

My dream is to own my own library. I want to dedicate a whole room to wall-to-wall books.


I have spent the past 4 hours looking at naked girls online. From the artistic nude, to the blatantly sexual.
I love girls. Boobs, bums, necks, backs, cunts, hands, legs, lips... yep.
Problem is. Well, I can't talk about my problem. All I can say it is making me very very confused, making me think things I feel guilty for and making me question and self sabotage.

*beats head against wall*

Speaking of photos.
I skated on Saturday. Every single photo of me from the bout (the few that there are...) I look horrendous. Why O' Why must I be one of those unlucky un-photogenic sods whilst skating? Damn you lucky bitches who look sexy 24-7.

I want to dance in the rain. With hands on my body. Pelvis to pelvis.
I want to be someones FAVOURITE...noticed and wanted. First choice.
Not forgotten, overlooked and un-worthy.


Tuesday, November 23, 2010


I forgot to mention in my last post. I had a small spell of being creative. I baked vegan cupgaykes. The idea stolen from one of the many blogs I have read in the past few months...I was bored and craving sugar. I had a bunch of food-dye lying around, so I got baking.

This is the prep. I used my regular recipe of the golden vanilla cupcakes from 'Vegan cupcakes take over the world' book, check their old blog here for info.

I made 2 batches (the recipe doesn't like to be doubled) so I just made them at the same time...so neither was waiting aside for too long. Then I distributed the mixture between 6 bowls and dyed each up.

I just layered each colour of mixture into the patty pans, not overly carefully (they were just for fun, geez), some were rainbow flag style, others were marbled, by dragging the loop of a skewer through the layers.
I used purple dye for the vanilla frosting from the same book.

This is how they look pre-nom.

And inside...they have the sag because I didn't layer very well, I got alot more mixture on the wall of the pan rather than in the middle... but who cares, they're pretty and fucking delicious. If you have never had these vegan cupcakes, you are missing out. They make 'normal' cupcakes seem so dry. They're so doughey and amazing and and and...I want to bake, it's too hot to turn on the oven though :(.

i forget which number I'm up to...

I have been so obscenely lazy of late. I believe it is the depression. Every time I open my blog to write a new post, I end up playing scrabble or bejewelled on facebook. My life at the moment involves sleeping in until late, getting up, sitting on the couch with the laptop, possibly training, depending on the day, but generally going back to bed to watch DVD's until 5am. Throw in a few showers and meals and whatnot, and that's me. Exciting as fuck. Oh, I also do all the Take 5 and That's Life puzzles too. Just to mix it up a little.

I know I should see someone about this, but fuck, shrinks are so expensive, and to get a referral you have to see a doctor six times or so. Cannot afford that either. Shit, I can barely afford to eat!

Depression is a cunt. I am a self-sabotager at the best of times. Add this black cloud and everything is so much worse. The anxiety and paranoia is worse, I'm not talking psychotic paranoia, I don't think 'they're out to get me' or anything. I just always think people are judging me and hating me and wanting me to piss off. I get jealous of people who have the things don't even want...(I always want what I can't have). I have no interest in doing anything. I become so obscenely sensitive to everything, just the slightest thing will set me off into a spiral of paranoia and overthinking.

Taking time off from skating after our trip was good and bad. Somehow I managed to strain my hip flexor, leaving me in immense pain just thinking about moving, luckily the osteo seems to have healed it up a bit, but my fitness has plummeted. I have put on about 10 kilos since January. I look at photos that don't seem that long ago, and I had a semi-flat stomach, slimmish legs. Now I have a preggers gut and thunderthighs. Fitness drills just make me dizzy and horrible. The vicious cycle; feeling shit so not putting in 100%, getting shitter for not putting in, feeling shit for getting shitter so not putting in 100%... it's hell. I see these freshies getting better and I still struggle with the reverse toe stops. So disheartening.

Not helping is the cliques in the league, the struggles with the woman, the lack of money and experience. I am really tempted to just pack up and leave to London or America or somewhere to start again.

On a happier note, this weekend is a big bout. Very exciting. I am a little nervous about one aspect of our team, but hopefully my qualms are completely unnecessary.

I hope things pick up with my woman. I do. I love her, but things need to perk up, they really do.
I hope my love of derby rekindles. I want to boot the 'meh's outta here.
I hope I get a job soon.
I hope I can pull myself out of this rut.

Saturday, October 30, 2010


On facebook just now, I was getting told by a friend that she could not stop staring at my cleavage in this photo. She said she was in awe of my boobs. I pointed out that although they are pretty to look at, they are rather heavy and something of a hindrance when doing...most things really. This made me remember how my woman is constantly ranting on about how heavy they are to hold.

About two weeks ago my parents were selling off some of my step-nans wares to move her into a smaller abode. There were some gorgeous old yellow kitchen scales there that I simply had to have.

This conversation with H made my light-bulb flicker (it doesn't light up anymore, it just flickers due to lack of use). I dug out these scales, lifted my shirt and flopped a single boob onto the scale. Just under a pound and a half. The other. Just on a pound and a half. Break out the online pound-to-kilo converter and shazam...I realise I have nearly a kilo and a half of fat hanging off my chest. That sounds so much nastier than 'oh yeah, I have a set of double dees'.

No wonder they feel so good when I hold them up with my hands.

Anyone want to be my personal boob-holder?


NB. The photo was taken by Rachel Mia of Matchless Snapshots.


I have about six different topics I feel like writing. From my current situation, to the frustration about my mum constantly stealing my life...my unhappiness with my league, angst caused by sociopaths. I know my blog is a total whinge-fest. I guess here is one of the few places I can go to get shit off my mind. I just tend to get too emotional with the topics I write about and end up in a blubbering mess. Then my writing turns incoherent.

Basically. This particular blog, number nineteen, is going to be an update. Most likely I'll be motivated to continue on, meaning in twenty minutes time I'll have uploaded blog twenty too...but for now, let us stick to nineteen.

So. I made a new rainbow skate sticker. I am waiting on a quote for printing, and I have hit up 'Can't think straight' in Daylesford who are keen on selling some. I'm gonna post a few leagues on facebook as well as the Vagine Regime and Skate Salvage etc to see if anyone is interested.

In Brisbane I got this book called 'fanzines'. It is a giant book about...well...zines. I had a flick through earlier on, and got all motivated (again). So, here is to keeping the motivation up long enough to actually produce something.

I really don't have much to document, but driving home today, I had an epiphany.

No matter how shitty my life is, how pathetic I am right now, at least I am still having amazing, mindblowing sex!

Monday, October 11, 2010


My newest MLIA. It happened on our way to Adelaide.


The other day I was pondering how all rainbow stickers for cars are so boring and generic. Lightning bolts, rectangles, triangles, hearts, peace symbols...boring.
I decided that I wanted a skate. So I created this. I'm trying to source cheap die-cut vinyl printing, but as die-cut looks pretty pricey, I'm thinking just a circle with a black background could work.

This week has been especially hard. I wish I had someone to talk to about this, about everything...someone who won't judge. Someone who will let me rant. Okay, I know I have those people, I guess I want someone who will make everything better. I need a superman or Wonder Woman or something. Again I have been reduced to tears over the slightest things. Again, I fought with my woman. Big-like. I think we were both questioning the relationship and whether it was meant to be this hard. Sigh. Love, big big love, but golly, two nutters in a relationship can get tough.

I've been working with a fantastic photographer lately, as her assistant. It's unpaid work, simply for experience and time for her to help me build up a modelling folio. I have a shoot with her this week. I cherish the opportunity to do this. It is such simple work, running down to get her smokes, holding the lights, putting together props...etc. It's not about the work. It's about the company. I'm getting out of my house, I'm playing with her kitties (all six of them), I'm meeting new people (or I will be, so far it's mostly been derby people...), I'm learning new things. This past week has been so good for my psyche.

Problem is, with every good thing in life, it seems like 2 bad things are around the corner. A friend cried today. Six words, innocently spoken, completely oblivious, made her cry a heaving sob, right from her toes. I cannot know how she feels with her situation, it is something that I simply do not/cannot relate to. On the other hand, I know how she feels in the way that such simple things can be so painful. Six words can make your whole facade crumble in an instant.

I know people are worried about me. I am worried about me. I'm so unstable, jealous, paranoid. I'm insatiable, disgruntled, frustrated. I'm lazy but needy. I simply cannot be bothered pushing on, with anything.

Why bother trying to find a job? I'm not talented enough for anything. I love photography, I can take photos, but I'm never going to be good like R. I love words, I can write, but I'll never be published like B. I am not creative enough for anything fun, I'm not motivated enough for anything useful. Why bother? I'm just going to end up in a dead end job in a place I hate, wanting to drive my car into a tree.
Why bother trying to get fitter, I'm never going to be hot like...well where do I begin? Why bother training hard, I'm never gonna skate like her. Why bother working for our relationship, she's just gonna get bored of me anyway. Why bother trying to pay the bills, there's just gonna be more anyway. Why bother putting in effort with friends, I'm always second best anyway, always the tag-along. Never part of the group. Always the gooseberry.

At least tonight I had a friend to be gooseberry with, a nice change.

Wednesday, October 6, 2010


My photography.
I am very lazy with doing anything, but here it is.


Saturday, October 2, 2010


I am really struggling at the moment.

My life is circling the drain. I can't get myself out of this rut.

I have cried every day for the past week. Excessively. I didn't think my body had so many tears.

I started a new blog under a different name to document my current situation. I won't post it here yet. Maybe in a few months. All I know as this is killing me. I don't know who to turn to, I can't talk about it with anyone. I just end up in my bed with heaving sobs. My stomach is constantly in my throat...I just want to puke from confusion and emotion. I don't even know what emotions I'm feeling. Loss, maybe? I don't know, I just hope I figure it out soon before I lose it.

I'm contemplating submitting some photography to a friends art competition. My only problem is, all my favourites are either grainy from my phones camera (yeah, my best ideas are when my camera is mia), not following the general rules of photography OR are 'private'. Do I submit a photo of my 'Y', even though you can tell it's me by the tattoo?

So, I have been declined prospective jobs so many times of late I'm considering just giving up and becoming a drifter. I'll fruit pick and can-collect my way to world domination. I'll start smoking pot and living out of my rainbow-coloured van. You just watch.


Thursday, September 30, 2010

Wednesday, September 29, 2010


I have barely stopped crying all day.
My eyes hurt.
My jaw hurts from the yawning due to lack of breathing.
My body is exhausted.
I feel numb.

I had a job interview today, I got to anxious that I couldn't go in.

I went to training, skated for 15 minutes and came home, I just couldn't be there.

Do you ever have those times when you are driving along and you think to yourself, maybe I could just drive off the road? It would be quick, at this speed anyway...

Sunday, September 26, 2010


So these pictures are being sent to zoo magazine for the 'beg4cash' competition. I know I know, trashy mens mag, shameless ass pictures....whatever. I need money. If I have to sell my soul (and a photo of my ass) to get it, so be it.

My plea is to get me to Brisbane. I noted my current lack of employment, the fact that I want to don fishnets and smack girls around...they asked for some photos to back up my story.

These are it.

Nothing affiliated to my league. I'm selling MY soul, not everyone elses. Don't judge.

As a side note; I found some stunning hard covered books at the market today. $3 each... I could only afford Dracula, Frankenstein and Lady Chatterley's Lover. They will look lovely in my collection.


*apologies for the incoherence and babbling of this, I wrote this at 3am, and I fear my intelligence is slipping away from me.

**this is not a coming out story as such...more like the experience I have had coming to terms with my sexuality...I felt the need to write this to help myself understand...myself. By the end of my writing, I feel I have delved into myself, found snippets of childhood I'd forgotten, analyzed my life, and can now be comfortable knowing that I am not just delving head on into the lesbian lifestyle because 'that's what I do'...but because this is who I am.

Growing up I was completely oblivious to the existance of same-sex relationships. I was living in the cliche world of 'mum, dad, child and a dog'. Straight couples were 'it'. Golly, I barely even knew what 'single parent' was, let alone 'gay'. Only when during primary school I started running into things and exclaiming 'poof' as I connected with my target did my Dad explain what a 'poof' actually was. Less than two years later, my parents separated and my eyes were opened. My parents separated, and within months my Dad moved in with a man, started listening to Cher and Kylie, donned rainbow flags and went to Mardi Gras. It blew my mind. I felt like knowing what rainbow stickers on cars meant, that I was in on a little secret.
I didn't really tell any schoolmates back then, to both parents suggestion. They both knew how cruel kids are, and I was the subject of bullying enough as it was. The few who found out ridiculed, asked questions I couldn't answer and simply created so much more confusion than I could handle at that age.
To this day, I mention that my Dad is gay, I get asked a ridiculous question, generally answered with 'immaculate conception'.
Back then, my Dads orientation was never explained to me. I was left to guess, assume. I was still barely sure what 'gay' was, I just knew that it was something that people didn't agree with, it wasn't 'normal'.

My first lesbian encounter was way back in grade two. My parents were still together, though not for much longer. My best friend at the time stayed over for my birthday. She was obsessed with being grown up. So whilst in bed, we played 'big kids'. We pretended to be grown up, boyfriend and girlfriend. We were in school, and our teacher was letting us sit at the back of the class to kiss, because we were the favourites. We kissed, we touched the area where our breasts were yet to develop. We explored eachothers nether-regions. The whole time, I was shaking. Terrified that what we were doing was wrong, that my parents would come downstairs and yell at us. Again, back then, I still had no idea about this concept of 'queer' or 'lesbian', I just knew that what we were doing was not 'normal', and thus, bad.

Throughout primary school and the start of high school I was infatuated with boys. KB4?? was written everywhere. I had lists of the boys I loved so deeply. I crushed on one particular boy for years, it was obsurd. Interestingly, almost every boy I ever adored was out of reach, so to speak. Always too cool for me (or in Tom Feltons case, too famous and too much in England...). In primary school I was often heartbroken when the boys didn't want to kiss me in kiss chasey. My first boyfriend lasted two weeks in year seven. We held hands and hugged in front of everyone watching us.
In year seven, I touched myself for the first time. I'd stumbled upon my stepdads porn magazines. I never though anything of it at the time obviusly, but looking back, I seemed to pay far more attention to the women. Their breats, the stories of their escapades.
My first 'serious' boyfriend (though at 13, how serious is serious?) lasted for three years. We never got further than him touching my boobs (To this day, I am convinced he is gay, and will come out in his 30's sometime). I think, because of my having a boyfriend, my crushes on my friends didn't matter. I guess it didn't even cross my mind that my feelings were stronger than normal.

It wasn't until year nine that I first considered my feelings might be something more than just friendly. I discovered myself fantasizing about Angelina Jolie, I stalked youth forums asking questions such as 'How do I know if I'm gay/bi?' The answers were obviously no help, explaining that 'you just know'. My plight was not helped by the torments aimed at girls who even thought about not being interested in boys. When I blew up at a kid for implying I kissed another girl in the toilets, the school counsellor actually asked if I was gay, of course, I didn't know what to think. My Dad was going through a bitter time with his family, disowning him for being gay. When I expressed my confusion of his parents obsurd actions to my Mum, she admitted that she would be very disappointed if I was to come out as gay. She had hopes for a wedding and grandbabies for her only child. Once, I admitted to a friend that I thought I had a crush on my legal studies teacher, Miss V, she had the typical small-town reaction of 'pretend I didn't hear'. In the end, I decided that I was just overly needy, just a jealous person, my strong feelings and my sexual urges were not gay, just misplaced affection.

When I changed schools for year eleven, I started going out to parties. I had never been interested before (the people I went to school with had been douchebags). I kissed a few girls over time, purely for the thrill. I lost my virginity that year, at 16 to my 19 year old neighbour who I was infatuated with. He broke my heart, as many people do when they take part in such a big event. After which, I was becoming close to my friend T. I confided in her that I thought I might be bisexual, I was finally coming to terms with the fact that I was attracted to girls, and when my lips touched theirs, there was something more than just alcohol. She invited me to minus 18. I had a huge crush on T, there was never any reciprocation though. I was deflated at the lack of attention from her, so I gave in to 'normality'.

I was still rebounding from my neighbour and T when I got with my ex. We became friends easily after I crashed his hangout with the guys at school. I divulged my secret affection for girls, he admitted he willingly went to an Avril Lavigne concert. We sometimes fought over my not being allowed to play with girls (but most boyfriends LIKE that....it's not fun if you WANT it...fair call). We ended up being together for nearly 4 years, and are still friends now. By the end of the relationship, we were both questioning ourselves. We were simply 'settling', we had lost our passion, as to be expected in a serious relationship so young. I sometimes wonder if my being 'an only' made me need him, rather than love him, as I am admittedly quite needy. I looked through some blogs from back then, and I can see that I was deliriously in love. When we broke up, I was a mess.

When I was freshly single, I had a couple of one night stands (most proving to be more trouble than they're worth). I found strength in my best friend. She was amazing. Creating 'International Cheer Scar Up Day'. Unfortunately though, I fell for her. She is pretty amazing. Somehow we seduced eachother (come on, she spoke to me in french, HOT!). We were near inseperable until she admitted one night in a very roundabout way that she had kind of always known she was gay, she just couldn't admit it to herself. She was sorry for confusing me, she didn't want to be the one to 'corrupt' me. Oh, she also has a crush on someone else. Once again, I was left shattered, not good enough, again.

When I organised the roller derby contingent of this years Pride March, I was still confused. I was hurting deeply over my best friends leaving me hanging, while she was happy and having all these experiences (the same ones I had dreamed of having with her) with her new girlfriend (I had asked them to be considerate around me, but, well, dykes seem to be whores who can't help but kiss and tell ;) ). Why was I organising this event? Was it to show my friend that she was not the one to corrupt me, I was serious about this, and they couldn't ruin my happiness? Was it to fit in with the girls I had crushes on from other leagues? There is a scene from Greys Anatomy where Dr Hahn has sex with a woman for the first time.
My whole life... My whole adult life, I have been with men. And it always felt, you know, fine, good, but... I never... I mean -- I mean, I did, but not... Not like this. This is like needing glasses.
- Uhm, I've blinded you?
- No. When I was a kid, I would get these headaches, and I went to the doctor, and they said that I needed glasses. I didn't understand that. It didn't make sense to me because I could see fine. And then I get the glasses, and I put them on, and I'm in the car on the way home, and suddenly I yell... Because the big green blobs that I had been staring at my whole life, they weren't big green blobs. They were leaves on trees. I could see the leaves. And I didn't even know I was missing the leaves. I didn't even know that leaves existed, and then... Leaves! You... are glasses. I am so gay. I am so, so, so gay! I am extremely gay!
It's so true. This is precisely what happened to me. I have no doubt that I loved my ex with all of my heart. But the first time I slept with a girl, the first time I felt a womans body pressed against mine, it, it blew my mind. Butterflies, fireworks, the whole kit and kaboodle. The weekend of Pride March, I managed to bed my girlfriend for the first time. If I thought there were fireworks with any woman, this was just an atomic bomb exploding in the sky. I knew, right then, that this was what my life was meant to be.

During highschool we were given open essays to write, argumentative essays on our topic of choice. I tended to campaign against homophobia. To this day I don't know whether I was trying to support my Dad in my own way (not that I ever showed him these essays), or whether I was subconsciously defending myself against the hypocrisy and ludicrous ideas embedded within society.
When I first came out at the start of this year, I broke the news to my loved ones in the form of bisexuality. As I was new to the idea of being in a relationship, I suggested that I was not necessarily 'giving up' on males. I just was in a relationship with a female at this point in time. In reality, even though I am likely to judge a person on their personality, not their gender, I am coming to realise that I am becoming less and less attracted to males. I can appreciate the good looking, but the idea of going to bed with a guy makes me cringe now. The lack of breast, the coarser skin, the obnoxious bulge...the scratchy facial hair...no thankyou. I believe that I may very well be gay. Not bi. Gay. Lesbian. Dyke. Carpet muncher. Muff Diver. Whatever you want to call it. I have realised my affection for boobs. I have found my love of...lady parts... and now, at 22, I am embracing my sexuality for what I am.

A flaming queer.

Thursday, August 26, 2010


Word of the day: Autophoby - the fear of referring to yourself, usually manifested by the reluctance to use the pronouncs I or me.

Do you ever have the fear that maybe you're losing control of your life, that what once was simply stagnant, has become a downward spiral?
I don't know what to feel these days, so often I am just autotuned to 'empty'. I find myself on the verge of tears daily, usually for petty things like a decision of what to have for dinner.
I feel to pathetic, so immature, (just read my last blog), but at the same time I know my emptiness and my paranoia are just symptoms of my circumstances.
My life in recent times has been nothing special. I have gone about my days working, sleeping, sitting at the computer or snuggling my girlfriend. Boring, stagnant but somehow content with routine. In the past few weeks I feel as though my life has just slammed into a brick wall and my insides are currently oozing down the flithy suburban drain.
I have lost my job.
I am having feelings of total mediocrity towards my skating for derby.
I have come into more trouble than I care to talk about.
My gut and arse are expanding faster than the speed of light.
I have quit uni.
My social life is non-existant.
My relationship feels strained because of my self-pity.

What do I have to smile about these days? I have nothing to get out of bed for. Really, I do nothing with my life right now. I'm mediocre at the only thing I DO get out of bed for (skating). I feel sorry for my girlfriend. I want to give her my love and affection, instead I give her cranky, moody, snappy, angry, sad.
I have slipped back into my old paranoia about stupid things. I cannot stop thinking. Obscure scenarios in my head that the more I ponder on, the more realistic they become. I have an obscenely short temper, I am jealous and resentful. I cannot fathom that somebody could love me, want to spend time with me. I am plagued with insecurity, with certainty that everybody hates me. Look at my facebook photo tags. In the past few months they have stopped. Not even tags within derby bouts anymore. I feel as though im paling into insignificance. I know I don't make a huge effort to go out and socialise either, but when I do, I get so paranoid about my lack of social skills that I freak out and have no fun. It makes me want to scream.

I am seriously considering up-and-leaving to start somewhere afresh.
New job. New house. New surrounds.
Where to, though?

Until I need to rant about the same thing again...


PS. The photo of my kitty 'bob' is just there to make me smile. Isn't she peeeeeerty!?

Monday, August 23, 2010


It's times like these when I really feel my age.
I feel like a baby, at not quite 22. Few of my friends and aquaintances are below 25, and those young ones seem to have a far greater grasp of reality than myself.

I have all these thoughts in my head which I struggle to verbalise, as many of them make me feel so pathetic, immature. There are bigger things to worry about. Bigger fish to fry. (nb. my 'g' key is bung, so if I drop a 'g' in a word, it's not my fault!)

One of my main issues in my head at the moment is my friendships. I have managed to get myself into the same rut as I always get into. I push away my friends, and then feel cranky with them for not sticking around. Thinking about it, I really have no 'person'. You know, most people have a 'person'. Best friend/comrade/'person'. Whatever you call them, most people have at least one person they can rely on to provide a shoulder, to chill out while looking like death, to humour the idiotic ramblings that come out, providing the logical advice ONLY after agreeing that the universe is a jackarse and everybody else is wrong, pretending the ramblings are totally coherent...

I have had people in recent times who I thought were those people. I get all internally excited that finally, this amazing person has been delivered to my life, I can finally chill out, baking cupcakes in my trackies at their house, playing with their pets, talking drivel until the sun comes up.
Unfortunately, story of my life, I am never anybodys 'person'. There is always someone cooler, funnier, nicer, more stable/less stable... than me. I never get to be the one that someone turns to for chats, for dinners, for playtimes and activities. I miss out on invites. I miss out on silly conversations. Maybe I'm too needy, being an onlly child, maybe I just need all attention focused on me. Maybe I am really pushing people away, not talking to them, then being cranky assumin they hate me. I know I'm completely illogical in my head, but that does not make it any easier to deal.

All throughout primary school I was never 'flavour of the month' to any of my friends. I always seemed the tag along. The annoying kid who always seemed to be there. In highschool, the girls I hung around with were bitches, pushed me out in a most humiliating way. My best friend in the younger years, was an attention seeking girl who ditched me as soon as someone cooler came along. In the older years, it repeated itself. In uni, I didn't really need my own friends, I just mooched off my exes ones. Most of my friends I doubted actually liked me anyway.

Now, four years out of highschool, and I am still struggling with the same paranoia as I was in primary school.

I lost my favourite person to her girlfriend, who was cruel in her 'theft' of my friend. Heartless, mocking my loss. Now, blaming me for the lack of contact, when I have made as much effort as her.
Again, I know I'm being immature and pathetic, but that knowledge makes it no easier.

On Saturday night I had a birthday celebration with two other girls. One of them I adore, in a purely...role model...type of way. We hit it off easily, we are scarily similar in behaviour. I spent time on her loungeroom floor, talkin hours away. She gave me foodstuff to take home. It was exactly what I've been dreaming of. Unfortunately for me, everyone else thinks she is amazing also, and I feel as though I am in school again, losing my 'person' to the cooler kids. At the celebration, we barely even spoke. I went to make conversation with the two other birthday girls, and they stop talking altogether, in a very awkward moment kind of way.

I find myself resenting someone I shouldn't. She is lovely to me, mostly. Notorious arse-kisser, she is now bosom buddies with everyone I wish I could be close to. My first derby crush, they're organising get-togethers. The girl who I somehow find myself drawn to, I think as a gay role model or something, dinner dates. The birthday girl I mentioned before, dinners, playdates, gifts. She does all these things, knowing I have nothing to do, with no invite. I am not part of the clique. I wonder, is there ANYBODY out there who doesn't adore this arse-kisser? I ask her one favour, ONE, and she cannot pull through. What does that say about me? Am I not ood enough to be in the clique?

My ranting is becoming less and less coherent. Time to sign off before I write something that will bite me on the arse.

Basically, I want friends, people I can rely on, people who aren't borrowed from my girlfriend. People who value me, and can handle my little bit of crazy every now and then. People who wont ditch me as soon as someone cooler comes along. Is that too much to ask?


Saturday, July 10, 2010


Everyone else seems to have some kind of creative space.
I am not creative.
At all.
My abilities extent as far as handsewing bows onto socks or badly stenciling a simple phrase onto a tshirt.
Alas, I have found a skill that actually requires very little....skill.
It was the idea of a friend, who never took action. Basically, when she mentioned the idea, I very much wanted one. When she never actioned the plan, I grew restless and did it myself. Now, I have found enjoyment from a little superglue. Oh, the satisfaction from a simple gift, or a nice comment on a bad day at work. A conversation point (not a big one, but it gets words flowing onetheless).

Behold: Scarletts new brooch fetish.

I find myself scouring my house for new things to make brooches from. Many things have been held up to my chest, admired, rejected and moved along. Oh yes. In the background there you do indeed spy Harry Potter in lego form. He will adorn my chest soon enough. A linky-monkey from the barrel? Yup. A lego-dog? Of course.

I created a chef-man for a chef friend. She wears it at work, swell. I bid on ninjas, pirates, knights on ebay, but they just get so expensive. It's like bidding on beauty and the beast or alice in wonderland dvds.

ANYWAY. I'm feeling tired and miserable and fat and frumpy and lonely and cold, so I'm gonna go finish the book I'm currently reading.

If you have any interest in a brooch, lemme know. The legomen are $10 and the monkeys are $5. Everything pictured above is for sale (except Harry Potter, he's a little damaged), and I have a whole barrel'o'monkeys ready.

When I have funds, I'll have more men to buy...but for now, this is all I got!

Please buy? Please?


Thursday, July 1, 2010


Some people came home from The Great Southern Slam full of excitement and motivation. They couldn't wait to get back into training and work on being the best they can be, new fitness programs, new training schedules and so on.

On the other hand, I came home questioning my love. Lacking motivation. Resenting those motivated people.

I have a few reasons for my lost heart. My constant headaches leave me dazed and feeling unstable on my wheels. Everyone knows that if you feel useless, naturally, you will be useless. I was subbed out of the second bout in the slam for my team, I know there were many subs throughout the tournament for every team, but, I felt as though I did well in the first bout, and I know there were others who were asking to be subbed instead. Not to mention the heartbreak when I was only told just as I was about to gear up...
Watching back over the footage, I look like the local retarded kid has been allowed to throw on some skates for the day in pity.
I have people who regularly compliment me on different things, but I know those people are ego-strokers, it feels meaningless to this aching heart. If my skills were so complimentable, why did I get subbed out instead of the self-confessed fluey woman? Why do I NEVER get asked to skate for other teams? Why do I never feel included in the league? Why do I always get stuck feeling like a pile of shit?
Sometimes I blame it on my league, the cliqueyness. Other times I blame it on myself and my over-working mind. Whatever the reason, I wish it would stop.
Normally I would say, fuck it, I just want to skate, but today, I say, I just don't know anymore, is it worth the emotional strain?


Saturday, June 19, 2010


SO! My plan worked a little. I have decided to make a little post about The Great Southern Slam.

The weekend started on a low. My womans nana passed away two days before we were due to leave, which put a big strain on the poor kid (I can still say that, she wasn't 21 yet). At first she was planning on pulling out of the tournament, to stay with her Mum, but, I think dear Mummsy told her that was ridiculous, there was no point moping around when there is skating to be done.
Thursday night I headed to Ballarat with plans to leave around 7am on Friday morning. We chilled out for a while, bummed around, packed her things, did some grocery shopping. At around 3 to 4am we realised that the chances of us getting any sleep were minimal, so, why not leave now!? After a shower for me and a bad-packing-mission for her, we left at around 4.45am.

The drive went quick, it was cold, wet and dark, but the roads were near deserted and the time just flew by. I got to know my woman a little better too, as she opened up somewhat, which she rarely feels comfortable doing. As my stereo is dead, we used my phone to produce tunes, though deciding what to listen to is a pain. By only Ararat we decided stocking up on caffiene was a good idea, but the servos lack of decent food was a little frustrating, thus the next Maccas we saw, hash browns ahoy!
I drove for a good nearly four hours, the time just flew by...helped along by bored creativity...
Eventually I had my woman take over...I think at maybe Nhill? Nhill is where I got some petrol and found a rainbow smelly-tree for the car...which I only bought for the rainbow. Turns out it smelled AMAZING, and bought 2 more on the way home... Anyway, while she drove, I accidentally fell asleep, even though she is an L-plater, but meh, she's a good driver. I took over again at Talem Bend, so I could be the one driving when we got into Adelaide. The hotel was super easy to find, and we checked in at around 1.30pm. I left her to have a nap while I went and visited my folks and my Grandma. I was overly proud of not having to check the map to find her house.
After visiting, I went to get ready to test the tracks at the pavillion. I tried to wake my woman, but she was dead asleep, drooling on my pillow, so I left her to it. Because I was alone, I sat in my car outside the showgrounds for a good 20 minutes, too scared to go in. Eventually I grew some nads and went in, and was astounded by the setup. Three tracks in one building, another out back. So many rollergirls in the one place. Heaven. I found a few buddies and went for a roll, keeping an eye out for any particularly amusing names (Tora Hymenov anyone!?). I threw my womans name into the raffle in a 'yeah, not likely' moment, but, as the raffle was drawn, "next winner, Helter Belter"....Fuck. Up I get, in my 'Scarlett Savage' branded shorts to get her Sin City Skates tshirt. You cheater, Scarlett, you cheater. After a few hours, registration was closing, and no other GRDL skaters had arrived other than Mickey, so it was up to us to register (even though a handful of other GRDLers were lazily chilling out at their rooms), which pissed me off immensly, then to have to stick around and wait for them to have the team meeting, when I was planning on being home to look after my girl...I was less than impressed. By the time I got home I was ready to punch people, rumors had ALREADY been spread that my girl wasn't skating anymore, WTF? Some people are just so intent on being in control that they take peoples words and turn them into something for them to use to boost their authority. Sociopaths. I managed to sort out with Saff who was having a fit of stress that no, my girl was still intending to skate, she was just chilling out tonight.
Saturday morning, we donned our Maulrats uniforms and head to the pavilion. We were running just on time, not quite early enough to find any breakfast, but early enough to be able to have a wander around, check out the teams. My woman was told officially that she was a sub for the first game, along with Nitro who had a sore knee. I really don't remember much about the bout against Perth, except that I landed an amazing hit on Hot Wheels, who is a body builder, that made her airborne. That and I got no penalties, not even a minor, for the entire bout. After said bout, which we won, I went for a wander, honestly, I can't remember where to, I watched a few bouts here and there, chatted to a few folk, ate some delicious chips etc.
From the get-go I had worried that I would be a sub at some point, but nobody had said anything to me at all. Just before I was about to put my skates on for the second bout against pot luck, I went to pee and ran into Saff. "I'm sorry Scar, I forgot to message you about subbing out of this bout". Balls. I would have been okay, but I was just about to put my skates on, and then I was asked to bench manage (I couldn't say no of course). When Spesh saw I wasn't skating she lost it, she turned into 'Mama Spesh' and I had to beg her not to go question the captains as to why. I don't know how I did with the whole bench thing, I just kept calm the whole way, and tried to put my woman on whenever they needed a spot, so she actually got some track time. Maulrats won that bout too, putting us against the Adelaidies that night.
I didn't realise how bad at the time, but my girl was hit in the face, causing her to fall and bend her fingers back. She barely complained as they swelled and turned many-a-shade of purple.

Against the Adelaidies I was back on track, while Bez and my lady were kept off, again. They went to play in some challenge bouts, so they actually got to skate a bit for the weekend, while we played. The bout started behind schedule due to a lost ref, which just let our nerves have time to get worked up. It was beautiful, our VRDL favourites had their Maulrats shirts on, DNN was filming, we had a good couple of cheersquads scattered throughout the crowd and we were pumped to go. Again, I remember little from the bout, BUT, I did make Barrelhouse Bessy fall. I was sent to the bin twice (one for out of play, one for forearms...which was bull, she hit ME in the face). The reffing was truly horrendous, Ruby got ejected, some of Aces points were lost in the abyss and we lost by 50 points. 50 amazing points. PROUD! It was an intense bout, and I was wrecked afterwards, but we gave Adelaide a decent fight and showed what we were made of. Having said this, after watching the DNN footage, I nearly cried. I look like the local retarded kid has been allowed to strap on some skates and bout. Half motivating to be better, half crushing to see how shit I am.
That night, I watched my girl pivot like a maniac in tiny but mighty, sulked cos I missed the girls bout in drag and got lost in the city. While lost, I nearly hit a few people running along the road, around the corner I saw why... There was a car alarm going off and a guy lying on the ground not moving...with more people running away. I'm a little curious as to what happened next, but I wasn't sticking around to find out. Instead, we found takeaway food in Dominoes pizza, where we ran into a bunch of Townsville girls. We sure slept well that night.
Sunday morning I had my bout with the Mean Reds. Unfortunately, due to getting lost, I arrived right on time, rather than early like a good captain should. I did't have time to warm up or stretch...but we all looked awesome in our uniforms. We won, in the name of Bloodnut, I jammed and did pretty darn good, Dolly Tartan was a machine and we all worked beautifully together.

Next up was the Vagine Regime. We won again, and had a bunch of fun again. We skated through a banner of a vagina, I wore very, very small things as shorts. (They were actually panties). My derby crush on Bella grew by a thousand when we worked together magically at 3 and 4. I nearly peed when I saw Keasey's face when Cannon got her G out. I fell in love with Pixie Pincher. I remember her from when they were in Melbourne last year, and she was just as lovely back then as she is now, just a beautiful person. Oh, DNN filmed that bout too.

After the VR bout, I sat down to watch Pirate City V Adelaide with some of those delicious hot chips. Towards the end of the bout I had Nerd come up to me saying that my woman was going to the hospital and to look after her skate gear. (!?!?!?!?) I went to go for a wander, and had a few more people come up to me. I then saw her running towards me in a panic, she grabbed her wallet and ran off. Didn't even tell me what was going on. Nobody would give me a straight answer, and she just ran off when I tried to call after her. I was angry by that point, or more, worried, with said stress coming out as anger. Lux came up to me and the stress from the current events and my frustration with her arrogance on Friday night mixed to produce my 'rage-roar'. I exploded with a big 'fuck off' that made passers by stare curiously. I then stormed off and cuddled up into Betsies leg and cried. I was so hurt that she wouldn't tell me what was going on, and wouldn't even answer my texts.
Watching the hilarity of the Babydolls v Battleaxes cheered me up a little, golly the Axes look brilliant.
I stuck around to catch the first half of the Grand Final, which was just amazing to watch, but finally she replied to me so I headed off to the hospital.
Adelaide roads are hell, every other street is a 'no right hand turn', and the traffic lights are synced in reverse, so you get stuck at every intersection. The hospital emercency carpark was closed on Sundays (genius) and all local parking was full or required coins. I cracked the shits and wrote a note on my dash with my phone number and didn't pay, as I had spent my last coins on water just hours before.
The waiting room was shit, there was this redneck fuckwit sitting behind me after she'd gone in to the doctor. I'd had my arm around her, and was wearing my 'queer roller derby' hoodie, so this redneck fuckwit went on a ten minute rant about how lesbians are wrong and blah blah blah. It was so in depth (yet clearly not very intelligent) that by the end (as it was for my benefit) I was almost ready to go up to the cops who'd just walked in to ask if they'd have my back if I was to beat this guy with a chair. He would be no great loss to society, he was boasting about his last times of being in hospital, handcuffed to 'pigs and screws' and whatnot. Oh, and his many OD's. What a productive member of society. When I saw the flash of my girls red hair, I launched at her and dragged her away, didn't even stop to ask what had happened/was she okay. As I walked out the door, I gave him the little 'lick between the 'V'd fingers' as I grabbed her arse. If only I coulda thought to mention that he's jealous that we could pleasure his girlfriend far better than he ever could.
Anyway, turns out two of her fingers have fractures that might require surgery. Happy 21st Birthday!
Not to let some fractures get in the way of a good afterparty, we showered and headed off to HQ. As we walked in, my wife and her woman were leaving with Mickey and Flemme. It was barely 10pm and they were leaving, cos 'it was shit in there'. Fuck that. Yes, the music was bad and the metros in there were wanks, but it's about being in the company of the derby girls!
We got there, had a few drinks, then headed in to the stage for the pants off dance off. It was a little disorganised, and we wanted to be on the stage, but some bad cover-singer was up there instead. I decided I enjoyed having my dress hitched up to show off the panties I'd skated in for the VR (over 2 pairs of stockings mind you) so stayed that way for the rest of the eve. A few more drinks later, and I'd danced with so many people, grinded so many legs, been eyeballed by a few and gawked at for my pantslessness by more. I hipchecked Spot'er, humped Scumshine and rubbed my butt on most people there. I was also told by some randoms that my butt was the best in the venue. High five!
Soon it was midnight and my woman had officially turned 21. We sang so loud that the whole courtyard joined in. I danced some more. We had a dude try and pick us up cos we were lesbians. I had no less than 3 people come up to me, recognising me as a Maulrat and congratulating me. I was in awe of being recognised. More in awe of the people doing the recognising. I hugged Skate the Muss (new hero) and danced some more. Eventually, my girl had got to the destructive stage of her drinking, so I convinced her to come home, before she did anything silly, not before I was recognised again while she was hipchecking and groping KVK.
There was so much derby love and rampaging hormones in that room when we left that it was surprising it hadn't yet turned into an orgy...though it certainly was very close.
Monday was spent in bed, sleeping off the booze, then giving her present. Then we decided not to waste the day completely and headed out for food. After a long wander, we found a mexican place called 'burp' that was nice, except for my out of date drink.
Tuesday we headed home, but had to stop for a nap before we even hit Talem. I was getting the sleepies real bad! The drive home is always so much worse than the drive there, but, we made it home alive with some very interesting memories.
Over the weekend, I met some truly amazing people that I can't wait to skate and party with in the future. I grew a few derby crushes, I enhanced another. I fell in love with the Sydney team. I am so proud of my mean reds. I came home with a bundle of tshirts, not enough photos, a bandaid tape rash on my elbow, epic memories and big(ger) black rings under my eyes. I have seen how I need to improve my skills and I can't wait for tomorrow to get the improvements into motion.
I thank every single person who put the slam together and made it memorable for me personally, and I cannot wait until next year, though hopefully the circumstances will be slightly happier.
Until my next burst of motivation,

six. ?

In an attempt to boost my motivation, I shall post my six month reading list. My theory is thus; simply writing useless things on here will motivate me to write more useful words. Fingers crossed.

So, as of January 1st I have read the following*

- The book thief - Zuzak
- Choke - Palanhuik
- Shadow of the wind - Zafon
- Dead as a doornail - Harris
- Definately dead - Harris
- All together dead - Harris
- Kissing Kate - Myracle
- Glass - Hopkins
- Dead to worse - Harris
- Punk like me - Glass
- Punk and zen - Glass
- Twelve - McDonnell
- Rush of wings - Phoenix
- Animal farm - Orwell
- Red light - Glass
- American goth - Glass
- Sickened - Gregory
- We need to talk about Kevin - Shriver
- Dead and gone - Harris

*I started off the year with gusto, then, in March, I got myself a woman. She has somewhat distracted me from my reading.

My list is somewhat varied. I have vampire trash, lesbian erotica, literary genius, literary mediocrity and a biography. I am now struggling to decide what to read next, my bookcase is rather full...and this is bookcase one of three...addicted to books? Maybe.

Abibliophobia (noun)
The fear of running out of things to read.


Wednesday, May 26, 2010


Who stole my motivation?
I go to bed each night full of thoughts. Full of words to click onto a keyboard or to ink onto paper. When I wake up, I tell myself, sit, write, you'll feel better. When I open the laptop or pull out my notebook, the words run away. They're scared to become more than thoughts. Maybe I'm scared to write them. Maybe if I write them, they'll become real? Not even dramatic things, I just cannot motivate myself to write more than this; a pathetic excuse for not writing.
I cannot motivate myself to do anything but nap. Or binge. Or read. Or chill out with my luscious new blanket. Theres always a new excuse. I'm sick of making excuses.

Todays excuse is dedicated to Becky Bloodnut. May you rest in peace dear rangabraids.


Wednesday, May 12, 2010


Last Sunday a girl I have never met was in a serious accident. Just recently, she lost her battle.
As I said, I never met this woman, I had only seen photos, heard stories, had a slight back-and-forth over a forum for an upcoming tournament. Just days earlier, I had read about her in inked magazine.
Why then, with such minimal contact, do I feel so saddened by this loss? I know there is a bond in the derby community. Moreso within queer derby. But surely that does not explain why I feel the loss of this skater, whom I was so looking forward to teaming up with, so deeply.
Is it because she is a skater? Is it because I can see the heartbreak that my peers are feeling?
Whatever the reason, I truly do offer my heart, my thoughts and whatever else possible to everyone who is affected by this tragedy.
Look after yourselves everyone.

RIP. TwoTon Teyla


Saturday, May 8, 2010


"Follow you dreams"
"You can do anything you want, if only you put your mind to it"

How many times have you heard these two statements? Parents, teachers, counsellors, friends, family...they all offer this same advice during times of doubt, times of insecurity.
In theory, this is sound advice. Sure, if you're passionate about something and work hard at it, you may well get somewhere, if you're lucky.

Passion is they key. If you're not passionate about your job, you won't want to put in the effort to get anywhere. People who say they love their job, those who actually enjoy going to work are invariably passionate about some aspect of their work. This is not to say they don't have bad days, everyone does, but these people are just able to get past the bad days more easily, they have something to smile about eventually.

Now. Having established this, I need to get to the point of this rambling.
What if you don't know what your dreams are?

I feel surrounded by people who know what they want in life and have either succesfully achieved that goal and are doing what they love, or are actively working towards that point through study, training, career stepping stones and so on. At the very least, they know, or have an idea of what they want, where they want to be. Whatever their motivation, be it love of helping people, more money, power, love of art, love of kids, flexible hours...whatever, they know what they want, and are okay with being a shit-kicker for a while to get to where they want to be, to achieve their dreams.

I am currently working 12 hours a week in a place were I get treated like a second class citizen, by both customers and management. The thought of going to work each day makes me die a little on the inside.
I am enrolled in a psychology course at uni. Third year. Semester one is almost over, and I am yet to attend a class.
I am planning to defer my course, or try to again. I have opened the websites for the classes, only to stare blankly, close the screen and curl up on the couch, a ball of misery.
I just have no motivation to study.
I don't know what I want to do. I had intended to spend last year off uni, to earn some money, get some savings. Instead, I broke up with my boyfriend and had to start paying full rent...and I had my hours cut at work. Thus, no savings.
Now, my hours have been cut again.
I wasted last year, and I am wasting this year.
I have absolutley NO idea of what I want to do in life. I thought I used to. I wanted to be a forensic psychologist. I wanted to watch people. Study people. Learn about psychopaths, about criminal minds, about anything to do with people.
Now, I am still fascinated by people, by the mind. I just don't have the motivation to study it.
Nothing appeals to me. I don't know what I see myself doing in 15 years time. When I think of my future, I just get a blank spot. Anything I do think would be fun or interesting has some epic fault. It scares me that I will be trapped into working in retail until I'm 70 years old before I retire and become homeless. I know I am smarter than that, better than that. I just don't know what to do.

How did these people I spoke of earlier get to realise their dreams?
I hate wasting my life like this. I don't even have the money to have fun while I wander along aimlessly.

I guess until I figure it out, I'll spend my days in bed snuggling up to my woman, hoping for some kind of epiphany.

Until next time.


Friday, May 7, 2010


Now that I have my boring first post out of the way, time to get down to business.
First, a shameless plug.

The team I created for the 'Great Southern Slam' in June. A fantasy I'd had which was given the opportunity to become a reality...thanks to challenge bouts.

My word of the day...
abibliophobia; noun; the fear of running out of things to read.

Actually, a second word of the day...I just stumbled upon this gem:

bibliophobe; noun; a person who hates, fears, or distrusts books.

Oh, I had planned to write this insightful piece about life. But, alas, it is 4.31am. I should head off to the land of nod so as to not confuse customers with my mind blanks tomorrow.
Maybe I'll write it at work and scan the paper to post up here instead...

Night all.


Wednesday, May 5, 2010


To begin this fantastical journey into bloggerdom, I shall give you the basic details of myself.
I answer to Scarlett. That's with two 't's, no 'e'. The single 't' (Scarlet), to me looks unfinished. The added 'e' (Scarlette), too messy. Two 't's looks complete but not overdone.
I am 21 years old. 22 in August. I have wasted the past few years, and I will surely waste the next few also.
I compete in roller derby. Due to the policies of the league, I am unable to divulge information other than the general basics of roller derby. That suits me fine...I can give my opinions on the sport in general, but nothing I say will be directly reflecting the league.
I have a girlfriend. She is dishy. She is...well...go look up 'sexy' or 'adorable' in your handy thesaurus*. She makes me grin like a dork.
I work in a bookstore. You have no idea how stupid society is until you work in retail.
I collect things. I collect rubber duckies, TV on DVD, childrens books and roller derby paraphernalia.
I...think that will do for now. The rest I guess will be disclosed over time.

Oh. One last thought. I lose motivation quickly, so don't be at all surprised if this goes for weeks with no updates.

Until next time.


*Thats thee-sore-us, not thee-A-sore-us...it's not a dinosaur!