"the antithesis of Athens"

You haven't blogged in a little while, you've been just a touch busy. Someone the other day, you think it was the principal, said that you create work for yourself, you make yourself busy, and that's true. You waste no time.





It was your birthday last week, on the Wednesday. It was an alright day, with the exception of having to get up early for morning class that day. But you made cupcakes the night before. That reminds you, you need to put up a picture of your cupcake on this blog sometime.





You are pretty happy right now. =) Someone is making you happy. You like that this is so much more simple than the last person. There are no lies or tricks or sneaking. They came over to your house on the weekend and you didn't have to hide them. It was great. The only annyoing part was the fact that your family decided to give you "The Talk" as soon as they left. Thanks, Guys. Thanks a lot.



You were on the phone to them tonight and they make you laugh. They can be very distracting, but that's okay. You're there to be distracted by them. That is kind of the point. You wish that your phone chargers would be less retarded so that your phone can charge properly. Now that would be nice. Why is technology so difficult? It took you almost four hours to burn a cd for retreat. That's because iTunes decided to be annoyingly ignorant of its ability to burn cd's. And then you found Roxio and it worked for you. Bingo.



You also had a pretty philosophical conversation then too, but you wish you could have taken more time to concentrate on it because it

"implying sun and summer"

The thing is, you always start a post and then leave it, saying you'll finish it later, but you never really end up saying what you intended to anyway. So you'll start on something else. Today is actually the first day of year twelve. It feels no different, and you didn't miss the boring powerpoints that are put up to annoy you at school either.

Grrrr. You can't be bothered right now, so you'll write later....

"making electricity..."

Here you are, you're sitting, wondering whether anything has changed. You don't feel different. Should you? It's not a huge deal at all. Not unless you make it one. You don't feel guilty, or anything like that. You feel, tired, well, that's nothing unusual. You're wondering if anyone will notice, if anyone cares. You think not. Nobody will care, and that's a good thing.



You hate how the position you're in right now prevents you from telling the world at the greatest decibel you can muster how happy you are. It's okay to keep secrets, but some are just too good to keep to yourself. You want everyone to know, but they can't - or else you'll be shot. And that is obviously not a good option. Some people won't accept your secret. Most people, in fact, wouldn't, but one person does. That one person makes having a secret completely worthwhile. They don't see you as a child, because you're not. They accept the fact that you're clever and mature, and able to cope with the secret you're harbouring.



You're thinking about the things you say sometimes about looking back on every day differently. It makes you think, I don't look on today with anything different. You didn't shake your head or feel like crying like that other time, it's totally different.

You sigh, just bcause you're tired and everything hurts. It has all just been a little too much and you feel slightly overwhelmed. But it's good that it has been a little too much because now you know your limits and boundaries. You realise that you need to try to relax next time. Don't stress. You keep playing it over and over in your head, remembering the things you liked, and how you felt uninhibted. Felt like nothing could stop you. You felt a kind of energy and serenity at the same time. How bizarre. Anyway, you can't go back now.

So you've taken a fall? Yeah, maybe, but you've hit the ground running.

"A leash is only a rope with a noose at both ends..."

"mea maxima culpa"

Sometimes, like last night, and like right now you feel like you're walking towards something bad. You know that its not going to be good for you and the people that rule your life won't accept it, but you chase it anyway. Without it you feel empty because its your soul, your ambition, your life. If you give it up, you'll be giving up life.


You could give it up if you wanted to... but that's the thing. You don't want to.



You found a book to write your to-do list in. You're hoping that people respect your privacy enough to keep out of it.

"I never got out. I surrendered to the grocery man - to the deckhand on the ferryboat - to the owner of the pool-room. You don't run things around here. You don't run things around here. You've never run things anywhere... ...You've only added youself to the things they ran."

We can sacrifce..." -can we?

Here you are again... You once said that we, or people, looked back on each day, feeling something different. Sometimes we feel happiness. Sometimes regret. Sometimes we feel pathetic or sad or awful. Sometimes we could care less. Sometimes you don't know what to feel. Sometimes you know exactly how and exactly why.

You're not much of a planner in general, but you plan to be. You find that last line so funny you posted it on facebook as your status. You like talking to nice strangers on facebook, not the stalker ones. They're creepy. You like getting to know people that interest you. You really like people a couple of (or like seven) years older than you. Their lives have direction and you like that too.

You don't like being forced into anything. Usually, if someone tries, you play along a little bit so that they aren't disappointed. But then you feel revolted. Not becuase you didn't like what happened - that's only a fraction of it - but because it's not what you wanted in the first place.



You wish you had a time machine, so that things could be different. This is only for your benefit, you don't care if it changes someone else's fortune for the worse. You would like to erase all the "waste of time" endeavours and reunite with the good old days. You want to be able to live life they way you've learned to - only, back then. That way you'd have been safe.

It's too early in life to think the way you do, Steph. You're so ahead of your time that people don't or won't accept what you do because you're too young to think the way you do.

What can you do?

"One of the penalties of refusing to participate in politics

is that you end up being governed by your inferiors."

"all you hypocritical sentimentalists..."

Today you figured out that you need a book to write your to-do list in. You found one you like and you'll get it tomorrow. You also figured out what you love, like, hate and are neutral about. You now understand partially why you don't like people as a whole. You like the smell of rain and you like getting ready to go out. You like walking at your own pace, often by yourself. You like equally, being alone or with people. You like talking about yourself because you know about yourself. Everybody else is just guessing.

You like watching people. You like looking at their expressions, their idiosyncrasies, you like watching attractive people. Not in a pervy way, it's just interesting. You notice if they're alone or with someone. One person you noticed today ate like they were across from someone, but they didn't look up as much as they would have if someone was opposite them. You noticed the messy eater to your left. He had rice spilling out his mouth like a fountain. You noticed the two guys eating sushi on your right. You noticed the old ladies and their tea. You noticed attractive people in the library and were made happy because it's nice to know that people with brains can also be attractive.

You looked at shoes. And stationery, and tea, wanting to immerse yourself in them more. You smelled your favourite tea. You saw enormous cupcakes and laughed. You like them. You saw people in the city that you know. You sat in the park and had your thongs thrown away . You also got in a photo with a canadian lady and her kids, and then gave them your email so you can document the day.

You have to go now.

"A collective soul..."

You're good today. Feel nice. You're resting right now, with a glass of Midori and juice. You want to read your book but you can't be bothered yet. That reminds you - you have to return two books to the library tomorrow.

You start reading from where you left off. You love that book, because it's everything you believe - on paper. It would be your "bible" but that implies something religious, and you're not religious at all. Well, the irony there is that you're the Liturgy leader at school and are going for the Archbishop of Sydney award, but heck, as if not being baptised even matters. It's about being a good person. You believe that. Being a good person based on your own moral code.

You love the book so much. You love books in general. You want a bookcase for your birthday but you've got nowhere to put a book case. You need your own personal library. You're going to the State Library tomorrow because you love books. Being at Amie's today, seeing all the books she was given makes you love books more. It also made you realise what you'd been missing, who you'd been missing. Fiona, Dave and Amie, you miss them all a lot, because it's been ages. You have so many good memories.

You love philosophy. You love your own, and Ayn Rand's philosophies.

"A truly selfish man cannot be affected by the approval of others.

He doesn't need it."

Dice

"Ocean to ocean - forever"

You don't usually blog twice in one day, but you feel like it. You feel like you've got to say something. There's almost nothing to say though. What to write about? Shopping? Guys - again? Skins? Books? Underwear and dresses?

You hate being seen. Not because you're afraid of what other people think of you when you're not wearing make-up. Not because you're self conscious in its typical description. It's just because you're not 100% with yourself. Why should the world see you, when you yourself don't even want to. So you dress for comfort, hoping that the bogan look will distract people from the look on your face that says, "fuck off, I don't want to be around people today..."You roughly do your hair, you wear long tights and a hoodie. And thongs. You walk to buy a book, and say nothing to the guy at the register because you seriously can't be fucked being nice. Looking like this, not speaking, makes you happy. You are free to think, to feel, when people aren't staring at you - except the perves who look at anyone in tights.

You come home and wrap the book up, letting your feelings show in the wrapping. You feel neat and tidy, so the wrapping is done with precision, but you also feel quirky, so you taped two different types of paper together. They don't match, and for one you like this. You do your usual with the gift ribbon, curling it with the scissors as always. You take pride in the fact that you wrap just like your mother, making the opening virtually impossible without tearing. It is the ultimate giver of suspense on a birthday. You don't do it because you think the other person will like it. You do it because you like seeing the results of your head and your hands standing in front of you. You like to know that everything you did is because you wanted it to be that way.

You sneak a book into the basket at the shops. It's not really sneaking, though, because your mum knows, and she likes that you read, so she allows it. You've already read the first twenty-three pages of the book and you like the tone of the narration. It sounds real. You also try on a thousand and one bras, not all of them fit right. You've grown right there, so nothing really fits the way it should because you're not the "regular" or "standard" C or D or whatever. That's okay though. You know what you want and you don't stop til you get it. So you leave with three that fit perfectly, and the lacy underwear to match it.

You like wearing underwear like that, because you know you look good in it. You don't do it so that anyone else can see, and if they should see, then you know that you look great, and when they tell you, you simply say I know. It doesn't matter that probably no one will see these new things, the fact of the matter is that they're yours and you like them. You also bought two new dresses. You bought them because you dont have anything like them. They're both completely different. They are like the two different emotions you embody. One blue, one pink. Two totally different styles.

You paint your nails red because you feel like it. You do a pretty crumby job, but you don't care because it made you happy. You put glitter on it afterwards because you felt like it. Then you talk to someone about what you want. They keep interrupting because they think they know you. You try to tell them, without being rude, exactly what you want in someone. You told somebody else what you wanted through a quote, "love is the response to our highest values - and can be nothing else..." You should have used this again, because it hasn't changed. They still wouldn't get it though. They're not going yo be happy that you've written this, because they know who you're talking about. But that's fine, because honesty is the best policy, as they say.

You think about having a shower, then say "fuck it". You've been swaering a lot more recently. You like the crude way the words stand out in a sentance. You think about going to bed too. You feel like washing your hands and you hair. You'll wash the hair in the morning before you figure out what to wear to the party tomorrow.

"I was a revolutionary who lost his ideals to heroin,

a philosopher who lost his integrity in crime

and a poet who lost his soul in a maximum security prison."

Dice.

"of power, of honour, of omnipotence"

You wake up with a missed call and 2 new messages. The missed call is just your mother. That's fine, she just didn't come home until this morning, she called, probably asking to open the door for her. The messages are a bit of a mystery. One is expected, so you read it first, it's just the message you got before you fell asleep on top of your phone. The second is more exciting. You've waited for it for a couple of days. This person is a little chilled about the phone thing. Treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen. Well you're fucking keen. But you can't have them. They're one of the people you were talking about last time, one of the "challenges" that are probably a waste of time - but a fucking irresistable waste of time.

You wonder why they even bother, it's like, they keep you on the end of the rope, knowing that it's from here to Maroubra long, and that you would follow the rope, but only if they asked you to. So you're stuck. You could end it, but that's not exciting, or you continue, knowing that every time you message back fucks you up a bit more. Makes you wonder if they're doing it on purpose.

You should have a policy stapled to your head, so that everyone knows and understands. Your policy is "if you don't like me like that, then don't be nice to me,". It shows the worls that you don't want to be played around with, you're good enough at that by yourself, you don't need any help. You want "shut the fuck up you ignoramus" tattooed on your hand, so that when you're talking to stupid people who are wasting your time, you can show them your hand and walk away. They're probably too stupid to know what an ignoramus is.

You need policies for yourself. Policies that make limits in your life. Limits on how much you do for someone, especially. Like: No bringing baked goods to that person. No going to extra effort to make sure they are where you are. No heart palpitations when they say good night and see you soon. No waiting for text mesages. You need these things to prevent massive amounts of mess.

You don't like the people that come to you. You're fussy. You wont go out because it's too difficult to ask your mother, or it just happens to be that fucking time... so you can't do what you plan to do. What you always plan to do. You want to go and do them, but it's just so much of an effort. You'd sell your soul to the devil to do what you always wanted, but then again, you're not sure if a soul is something in your possession.

You try not to make promises you can't keep. You don't trust anyone, barely even yourself, just because you're the only one that knows what you're thinking. People try to break you open, to know something about you. You're honest, to some extent, but you wont give away the information that can be used against you later. You don't keep secrets of your own, everyone knows everything about you anyway, but you're the best secret keeper out.

"had I as many souls as there be stars, I'd give them all for Mephistopheles."

Ah bollocks!

FUCK,

I always manage to do this to myself. I offer way too much to the endeavours that are pointess. Someone said to me the other day that I go for the things I can't have, the people I can't get. I said that it was a self challenge. But why would I do that? Why would I bother to make something already fucking difficult so much harder than it has to be. I don't know. Why is it that we have to learn by experience. I want to know exactly what's going to fucking happen, before it fucking happens.

I screwed up, and I realised right in the process of doing it too. I realised that another person a few months ago said the same thing. I try too hard, do too much, and end up not getting what I want. Why do I do that? Why can't I stop. Even when I know that it will never happen. I think maybe I imagined it, that I'm crying because of something I dreamed up, something that I wanted because I thought I should. I don't know. I don't want to seem obsessed, because I'm not. I just want them to know that I would give everything I have to them, everything within and beyond me is theirs.

In the words of James Bond,

"whatever is left of me, whatever I am - I'm yours..."