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...
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Sunday, September 26, 2010
thirteen.
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.
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.
twelve
*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.
**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.
- 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
eleven.
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...
Scarlett.
PS. The photo of my kitty 'bob' is just there to make me smile. Isn't she peeeeeerty!?
Monday, August 23, 2010
ten.
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?
Okay.
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?
ScarXo
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?
Okay.
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?
ScarXo
Saturday, July 10, 2010
nine.
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 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 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?
ScarXo
Thursday, July 1, 2010
eight.
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?
ScarXo
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?
ScarXo
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