Yesterday I received my maths B results: the worst I've ever received- a D for disillusion.
So I thought everything was going to be fine. I didn't do the correct amount of homework and I did minimal study (I tried but every time I made a mistake or lacked understanding my concentration would evade me and off I'd drift like a kite in a breeze)but for some reason I left the test with a feeling of minimalistic conquest. Thinking that I'd at least pass, knowing I hadn't done well.
I felt really awful about that result.
I think because It's almost as if I my grades are apart of my identity and the concept of less than a failure did not fit in to my previous ideology of myself.
In many ways I am a perfectionist, ambitious is a kinder way to describe it. I have little control over a lot of things in my life but my grades, I feel, are one of the few things my efforts can actually influence. And I quite like control.
Well, that and approval. I love being able to tell my parents with a puffed chest and beaming smile I got a b+ or higher or in maths anything above a c+ and I suppose that's what expect of myself, it's almost what I work for, which I know is wrong but it's the truth.
However: I like creativity, analysis and philosophy. I like the floral things. The things that are unproven and have multiple reasons.
I don't like things straight forward because if it's an answer I don't like than that's what it is and there is no other way about it. The absolute truth scares me.
I like starting again and having a new chance; in fact I love anything new. I also like things old because they teach us what we'd otherwise be unable to learn; learning from mistakes.
I think I'm just not minded that way- towards maths and science. I do like mechanics though: how things work- deconstruction.
I'm stubborn, I like to work at things until I get them right. I hate leaving an answer unsolved. I love figuring out what's gone wrong, working out the mistake and finding a solution. I like finding my flaws so that I can correct them. I like finding my talents so that I can manipulate them. I hate failure and to quit.
I flourish on success and diligence.
Failure scares me. And when faced with it I retreat. I have this want to give up all together.
Today, quitting school and having four children and my dream home, dream job was a temptation. I considered it like a sensible option. I considered running away from home moving to another city and being a waitress or something. Just giving up what I have now to be someone else, someone more exciting.
This morning my feeling of self pity was overwhelming. It took me 45 minutes just to eat breakfast and as I was getting ready for school I cried. Yesterday in my last three lessons my lips trembled and when I got home I was furious with my teaching. The full wrath of my blame bestowed upon him.
But than I ran cross country. Four kilometres of mud and heat. Of pushing myself beyond self-limitations. It clarified it all.
I decided I would quit maths B, yes QUIT, and move to the easier maths. I just feel that my pride cannot handle another subject failure and that if I move to Maths A I'll have a heavier drive with some sort of optimism in my potential in maths.
The thing that hurt most with this maths business was the gradual slip. The painful degradation. I used to be quite good at maths. I began yr 10 in topstream maths meaning I was one of the top 60 in the whole grade. And slowly I worsened. B+ to B to B- to C+ to D. In my other subjects it's different. I work hard and I'm actually interested in what's being taught; in maths I memorise, misunderstand and depend on repetitive practise of methods.
I think it's pointless to put myself through so much pain for no reason. If I need maths B for a uni course than I'll do a course out of school to condense the teachings and stress of maths B at school with six weeks. You can do that, my friend did it.
Sometimes push is important. Using adversities as a stepping stone for becoming someone better and achieving your goal. Other times we need to face our flaws and accept them. I can't do that very well. But we need to reach our potential.
A d average in maths B isn't going to get me anywhere. a b- in maths a will.
I once heard a motherly figure say on an old fashioned movie: "Sometimes we have to accept something as being second best and we learn tolerate it, but if we're lucky, occasionally what we consider second best is considered first best and that's just an added bonus."
I ideally I'd like to work hard up to a B in maths b. To overcome my flaws and become a stronger person. But I think what I need to do in this current situation is to swallow my pride and take the easier option. I'll have enough adversities to face in the next two years inevitably, why add the extra pressure and suffer the poor grades when you can do better is something more suitable to your traits?
Good morals and a big work ethic are important but sometimes standards can alter. Sometimes we need to get our priorities right and consider the outside circumstances to make the most appropriate decision.
This is where I'm at. I shall rest my aching bones and take into consideration all other things over the next few days. My mind is weary and hence my reason is in a similar state at the present time. Running four kilometres is an unusual occurrence for me and so is getting a D. Sometimes things are forced upon us that antithetical to aspects of our perceptions of ourselves and we forced to confront identity and to reshape our mantra.
I don't know if I'm making the right decision. I don't know how much of this is truth and how much is laziness and my pride convincing my intuition of an easier option. But if I can be better, if I can stress less and better enjoy life perhaps this is right, perhaps I'm stumbling upon the right path. I'm not sure.
I s'pose I'll work my butt off either way and see how I go. That's the most I can do at this stage. Thankyou for listening.
X GWEN
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Sunday, March 29, 2009
How to Elongate a Week, Bless a Child and the Fulfilment of Thirteen Friends.
"I love these little people , and it is not a slight thing when they, who are so fresh from God, love us." Charles Dickens, The Old Curiosity Shop, 1840.
This is what my mother wrote in the christening card of my small cousin this morning. She is beautiful. Children have this natural gift of putting things in to perspective. Through their naturalistic way of life they allow us to see how we should be and make us realise that they who seem so distant are in fact reflections of what we were and are perfect in this natural state.
I spend a lot of time pondering the concept of 'being';
Who should I be?
Who am I?
Am I perceived the way I perceive myself?
Last night I went to a school party. Not a party at the school but a friend's 16th party that my entire grade attended. It was messy.
I think that, standing in that small hall I felt the least confidence I have ever felt. I felt ugly, foolish, geeky, alone, unattractive, boring, nervous, out of place and diversify-ing-ly sober. Everyone was drunk and paying attention to one another, except me. I just felt like I was wasting my time. These people were all showing off to each other everyone there to impress (even I had impression as an intention- I thought I looked great and that everyone would notice) I might as well have been invisible.
The party ended early. To cut a long story short, I went home at 9.30. I went home to my sisters and I was so happy to be with them. So happy to be with people who I understood and people who accept me, for my flaws, for my talents and even when I have my period and turn into a malevolent bitch. We didn't drink. We didn't engage in incredible, defamatory gossip. We sat under a sheet and watched Pirate's of the Caribbean under a hole-y blanket and for the first time that night I felt good (It helped also having eating a large bowl of chocolate pudding-style emotion.)
My sister concluded that although drinking can be fun (I'd be lying if I said I wasn't partial to a shot or three), but sometimes the traditional stay up late and talk sleepover is still so much fun. My birthday was on Friday, the aforementioned drunken party was on the saturday and my cousin's christening: today (sunday).
My birthday was so beautiful. From 12-1 I finished my artist's statement, which made me happy because I think I said what I wanted to say well. However, this only allowed me six hours sleep because I was born at 7.15 a.m. and I couldn't sleep past then now could I?. And so I woke up feeling a little sorry for myself but half excited about the prospects of the birthday that was to come. My blinds were open enough to reveal a beautiful blue sky and sun was beaming. Dad walked in with an earl grey in a fine china mug. Tea is my biggest fetish. I proceeded to open my presents all of which were humble, thoughtful and beautiful.
Off to the beach we headed. My sister, dog and me. Executing the uncanny rights of birthdays, I made the others wait for me to eat a hot breakfast and a leafy tea (the tea came free and the restaurant became my favourite.) And after wandered to this trendy, little independent store near by and again made dog and sister wait while I indulged in selfish birthday impulse to buy a little skirt: on sale one-off design made from vintage fabrics. UBER COOL.
We came home, Farewelled my grandmother who has the best intentions but seems to be offensive and invasive without a drop of sweat or a moment of planning and tears welled up in her eyes. She said to me, arm wrapped around me, "thankyou for being you" and I said the same to her; contrary to my complaints, she is my only grandma and I love her, inalienably.
I prep'd the house for my partay and was suprised to find my other sister who I thought had been at work an hour away, at home. That was so exciting for me plus I was then able to open my present from her too. Which was an amazing CD, WHICH I played full bore, excitedly dancing and cleaning. You men don't even know what you're missing out on without the ability to multi-task.
13 of my closest friends came over and we sat, ate and drank (softdrink) and watched Grease and dance movies.
I had 3 hours of sleep most of them came over at 6 p.m on friday and the last guests left at 1 p.m. which meant I spoke for 17 hours non-stop. It was SO MUCH FUN!
It made me really appreciate my friends but even more it made me appreciate my family. They made so much delicious food, they laid out beds and before I knew it they'd cleaned everything and put it back to normal.
After world's longest week, this weekend has really put things in perspective.
I've realised there is a life out of school, that being 'the cool kid' isn't fun or cool, that being yourself is very important and how we are made to be and that in friends and family you can find justification for who you are and why you are the way you are.
I had an epiphany the other day that you can find something good in everyone in the same way that you can find something ugly. And Everyone Has Flaws. Why create another by being insecure. It's ironic in the way that most people who are insecure are trying to manicure their personality into being perfect, they try to erase their flaws but in doing so they create another flaw which is more noticeable than all the others. And so I will be me more from now on. I will harness my talent and manipulate it into skill and I will meet new people through an open-minded viewpoint.
All of this week has just been super stressful. I have a strong susceptibility of perfectionism in my schoolwork and I think I pushed myself a little too hard in hind site. I adore art. But I think I just need to allow things to evolve rather than crafting and chipping away at them. I cam home everyday and could hardly keep my eyes open I spent three of five days and about 25 hours looking up close at every detail. I unnecessarily exhausted myself.
My message is that no matter what you do, as long as you work hard in preparation, set up the framework diligently than things can evolve and you can stumble upon something perfect.
I'm going to leave, having fallen in love with life, willing to embrace its good and its bad and aim to appreciate those around me, appreciate myself and not try to be someone else and allow things to happen without pedantically crafting and moulding because than you lose what had to begin with. Be kind and fair and patient. and look after yourself and those around you.
I hope that, if you read this, I help you and you don't laugh too hard at my cheesiness.
LOTS OF LOVE GWEN.
Sweet Dreams!
xx
This is what my mother wrote in the christening card of my small cousin this morning. She is beautiful. Children have this natural gift of putting things in to perspective. Through their naturalistic way of life they allow us to see how we should be and make us realise that they who seem so distant are in fact reflections of what we were and are perfect in this natural state.
I spend a lot of time pondering the concept of 'being';
Who should I be?
Who am I?
Am I perceived the way I perceive myself?
Last night I went to a school party. Not a party at the school but a friend's 16th party that my entire grade attended. It was messy.
I think that, standing in that small hall I felt the least confidence I have ever felt. I felt ugly, foolish, geeky, alone, unattractive, boring, nervous, out of place and diversify-ing-ly sober. Everyone was drunk and paying attention to one another, except me. I just felt like I was wasting my time. These people were all showing off to each other everyone there to impress (even I had impression as an intention- I thought I looked great and that everyone would notice) I might as well have been invisible.
The party ended early. To cut a long story short, I went home at 9.30. I went home to my sisters and I was so happy to be with them. So happy to be with people who I understood and people who accept me, for my flaws, for my talents and even when I have my period and turn into a malevolent bitch. We didn't drink. We didn't engage in incredible, defamatory gossip. We sat under a sheet and watched Pirate's of the Caribbean under a hole-y blanket and for the first time that night I felt good (It helped also having eating a large bowl of chocolate pudding-style emotion.)
My sister concluded that although drinking can be fun (I'd be lying if I said I wasn't partial to a shot or three), but sometimes the traditional stay up late and talk sleepover is still so much fun. My birthday was on Friday, the aforementioned drunken party was on the saturday and my cousin's christening: today (sunday).
My birthday was so beautiful. From 12-1 I finished my artist's statement, which made me happy because I think I said what I wanted to say well. However, this only allowed me six hours sleep because I was born at 7.15 a.m. and I couldn't sleep past then now could I?. And so I woke up feeling a little sorry for myself but half excited about the prospects of the birthday that was to come. My blinds were open enough to reveal a beautiful blue sky and sun was beaming. Dad walked in with an earl grey in a fine china mug. Tea is my biggest fetish. I proceeded to open my presents all of which were humble, thoughtful and beautiful.
Off to the beach we headed. My sister, dog and me. Executing the uncanny rights of birthdays, I made the others wait for me to eat a hot breakfast and a leafy tea (the tea came free and the restaurant became my favourite.) And after wandered to this trendy, little independent store near by and again made dog and sister wait while I indulged in selfish birthday impulse to buy a little skirt: on sale one-off design made from vintage fabrics. UBER COOL.
We came home, Farewelled my grandmother who has the best intentions but seems to be offensive and invasive without a drop of sweat or a moment of planning and tears welled up in her eyes. She said to me, arm wrapped around me, "thankyou for being you" and I said the same to her; contrary to my complaints, she is my only grandma and I love her, inalienably.
I prep'd the house for my partay and was suprised to find my other sister who I thought had been at work an hour away, at home. That was so exciting for me plus I was then able to open my present from her too. Which was an amazing CD, WHICH I played full bore, excitedly dancing and cleaning. You men don't even know what you're missing out on without the ability to multi-task.
13 of my closest friends came over and we sat, ate and drank (softdrink) and watched Grease and dance movies.
I had 3 hours of sleep most of them came over at 6 p.m on friday and the last guests left at 1 p.m. which meant I spoke for 17 hours non-stop. It was SO MUCH FUN!
It made me really appreciate my friends but even more it made me appreciate my family. They made so much delicious food, they laid out beds and before I knew it they'd cleaned everything and put it back to normal.
After world's longest week, this weekend has really put things in perspective.
I've realised there is a life out of school, that being 'the cool kid' isn't fun or cool, that being yourself is very important and how we are made to be and that in friends and family you can find justification for who you are and why you are the way you are.
I had an epiphany the other day that you can find something good in everyone in the same way that you can find something ugly. And Everyone Has Flaws. Why create another by being insecure. It's ironic in the way that most people who are insecure are trying to manicure their personality into being perfect, they try to erase their flaws but in doing so they create another flaw which is more noticeable than all the others. And so I will be me more from now on. I will harness my talent and manipulate it into skill and I will meet new people through an open-minded viewpoint.
All of this week has just been super stressful. I have a strong susceptibility of perfectionism in my schoolwork and I think I pushed myself a little too hard in hind site. I adore art. But I think I just need to allow things to evolve rather than crafting and chipping away at them. I cam home everyday and could hardly keep my eyes open I spent three of five days and about 25 hours looking up close at every detail. I unnecessarily exhausted myself.
My message is that no matter what you do, as long as you work hard in preparation, set up the framework diligently than things can evolve and you can stumble upon something perfect.
I'm going to leave, having fallen in love with life, willing to embrace its good and its bad and aim to appreciate those around me, appreciate myself and not try to be someone else and allow things to happen without pedantically crafting and moulding because than you lose what had to begin with. Be kind and fair and patient. and look after yourself and those around you.
I hope that, if you read this, I help you and you don't laugh too hard at my cheesiness.
LOTS OF LOVE GWEN.
Sweet Dreams!
xx
Saturday, March 21, 2009
No Longer wanted in the art world.
Things seen on a regular basis are often blended into a multitude of daily thoughts and visual stimuli, often forgotten, left lying dormant in the sub-conscience of one’s mind. Sometimes, however, when we have not seen a particular object for a period of time or when an event occurs and changes our mentalities, the thing which we have taken for granted has a new light shed upon it and suddenly whatever it was that had been forgotten and ignored previously, is now demanding attention, the object becoming newly discernible. At other times identity can also be lost when surrounded by many, things can become ‘lost in a crowd’. For example a tree is a tree until it is surrounded by other trees where it becomes a part of a forest.
SO OFF TO THE BLOG CYBERRING WORLD IT TRAVELLLLS.
SO OFF TO THE BLOG CYBERRING WORLD IT TRAVELLLLS.
Friday, March 20, 2009
A Few Points
A must write: the story of Pan.
The stories of those whom I met on my travel to New Caledonie- the son that was, the boy with the kind eyes, tribal living, the exotic warmth and the beach hut.
My love of watermelon and flowers, jeans and t-shirts that come to you.
Whittaker's White Chocolate.
My love of making abstract art.
My Goals & My Whiteboard, my love of photos.
My love of my dog, my love of yoga.
the story of my mother.
My story of having googly eyes.
My study depression, hanging out the washing and my realisation of the environment outside of my room- big trees, whistling birds, the dog that never stops barking and the rooster.
My phlegmy neighbour,
my hatred for english at school.
My hormonal monster transformation and its affect on adolescence.
My Poor mother. The First Aid Kit.Music and its transposition of emotion and art and its way of forever being relative.
THE BLANKS WILL BE FILLED. PATIENCE.
Love Gwen.
The stories of those whom I met on my travel to New Caledonie- the son that was, the boy with the kind eyes, tribal living, the exotic warmth and the beach hut.
My love of watermelon and flowers, jeans and t-shirts that come to you.
Whittaker's White Chocolate.
My love of making abstract art.
My Goals & My Whiteboard, my love of photos.
My love of my dog, my love of yoga.
the story of my mother.
My story of having googly eyes.
My study depression, hanging out the washing and my realisation of the environment outside of my room- big trees, whistling birds, the dog that never stops barking and the rooster.
My phlegmy neighbour,
my hatred for english at school.
My hormonal monster transformation and its affect on adolescence.
My Poor mother. The First Aid Kit.Music and its transposition of emotion and art and its way of forever being relative.
THE BLANKS WILL BE FILLED. PATIENCE.
Love Gwen.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
An Angry Day; But Really it was Just a Good Day Spoilt,
Today should've been an excellent day.
Today, however has left me feeling frantic, tired and insomniatic (hehe that's not a word).
I just want to go to sleep,but I can't.
my head hits the pillow, my thoughts swelter in my head, my eyes droop but remain open. stubborn bastards that they are.
today I experienced how a few words of repeated (and possibly paraphrased) words can can change your entire perception.
There's a boy. OH LORD HERE WE GOOOO. He'll be known as Chris Skin Corruption, him and I have what some people call a 'thing'. As in when we spend time together/hanging out and what not people ask us if there's something going on.
To be honest I wouldn't even know if there was.
He tells me there isn't, I believe him and then a month later someone tells me he had feelings for me a month prior.
I am unable to determine my exact feelings for him. I don't really find myself drawn to him though.
Yet everytime (and it happens in cycles) I start talking to him again the shit hits the fan as it seems. I go through this mental turmoil of does he like or doesn't he? "am I being self-obsessed?" I ask myself and often " WHAT'S GOING ONNNNN "
it's frustrating because to a certain degree I like honesty.
And to a certain degree I think I'll always like him a little bit. We click and he makes me feel pretty, as superficial as that may sound; there are ALOT of people who make me feel fat, ugly and out of place he doesn't.
Today however changed me.
I was talking to a friend this afternoon, well in all honesty it couldn't be called talking; we were having the definitive conversation type known as 'bitching'.
A name would be brought up and we would let loose. I don't even remember what we were actually saying but the things we were saying weren't nice. A lot of gossip also.
This girl, she is also good friends with Chris Skin Corruption, we are the two 'main' girls in his life.
At my school the formal or the 'prom' which is held at the end of year 12 and is the last major function of our school lives and you will be judged on everything.
I have been planning my dress since year 7 and the issue of whom will be taken by whom has been a weekly if not daily topic of conversation for the past two years.
This friend: Yoo Fuh shall be her name, told me that Chris Skin Corruption that he had not asked either of us to the formal as of yet due to the fact that he was afraid of hurting our feelings. You might think "awww, cute; what a sensitive new age boy!"
I think "BASTARD. Of course I wouldn't be offended. I'll just get another bloody partner if he asks someone else. I cannot believe he thought of me so desperate."
I am pretty sensitive at the moment but whatever, to hell with restricted emotions.
ALL I WANT IS TO HAVE SOMEONE TAKE SOME KIND OF DIRECTION SO THAT I CAN KNOW WHAT I'M DOING.
I don't want to be sitting here thinking oh shit what if this person rejects me, or this one, would this person be avilable. I MEAN FOR CHRIST'S SAKE THERE'S NO TIME FOR THAT SHIT. I have a maths test to study for, a french writing task to scribble, an art prac to hopefully make magnificent and another assignment for art to try and perfect.
So what I concluded, after a briefly angry interlude, I will ask Kitchardd Rummekin whom I've known prior to birth. Our sisters went through school together, our mums discussed the feelings of having us inside and him and I played with tonka trucks and made sandcastles in prep. He was my mate.
The only slight issues is that I have not spoken to him for about four years. I don't even know who his friends are. I don't even know his interests.
All I know is: he has blonde hair, blue eyes and a slight skip to his walk.
His family is welsh, and if nothing's changed in four years he has a strange accent.
I'm Australian by the way.
He's fairly placid and he has a slight skip to his walk, I think he has that thing where you walk on you tip-e-toes.
I don't know whether to just bite the apple or dilly-dally.
Will you go to the formal with me?
Do you wanna go to the formal with me?
Hey you! I thought perhaps because we've known each other our whole lives- Do you remember playing trucks in the sandpit?--- I thought we could go to the formal together?
I'll definitely be wearing make-up to school tomorrow.
other things I'm nervous about: My drama performance tomorrow. I have to transform into an old man, with fiddling fingers and lots of money who was invented as a character about 1500 years ago or more. We also have to be funny. And this shit will be improvised, no scripts just costumes, props and wit.
SCARY.
My maths test, haven't completed any homework and I'm scared. I keep on thinking; a two hour test, obscure questions and lots of lined paper.
What if I freeze up?
What if I think I understand them and get them completely wrong?
What if I cry in the exam?
Shit.
I need to sleep.
so I'll leave you all and this incomplete shit-a-licious blog to contemplate and feel the gentle breeze of hush-a-bye mountain.
Thankyou if you read this.
GOOD NIGHT EVERYONE,
xGwen
Today, however has left me feeling frantic, tired and insomniatic (hehe that's not a word).
I just want to go to sleep,but I can't.
my head hits the pillow, my thoughts swelter in my head, my eyes droop but remain open. stubborn bastards that they are.
today I experienced how a few words of repeated (and possibly paraphrased) words can can change your entire perception.
There's a boy. OH LORD HERE WE GOOOO. He'll be known as Chris Skin Corruption, him and I have what some people call a 'thing'. As in when we spend time together/hanging out and what not people ask us if there's something going on.
To be honest I wouldn't even know if there was.
He tells me there isn't, I believe him and then a month later someone tells me he had feelings for me a month prior.
I am unable to determine my exact feelings for him. I don't really find myself drawn to him though.
Yet everytime (and it happens in cycles) I start talking to him again the shit hits the fan as it seems. I go through this mental turmoil of does he like or doesn't he? "am I being self-obsessed?" I ask myself and often " WHAT'S GOING ONNNNN "
it's frustrating because to a certain degree I like honesty.
And to a certain degree I think I'll always like him a little bit. We click and he makes me feel pretty, as superficial as that may sound; there are ALOT of people who make me feel fat, ugly and out of place he doesn't.
Today however changed me.
I was talking to a friend this afternoon, well in all honesty it couldn't be called talking; we were having the definitive conversation type known as 'bitching'.
A name would be brought up and we would let loose. I don't even remember what we were actually saying but the things we were saying weren't nice. A lot of gossip also.
This girl, she is also good friends with Chris Skin Corruption, we are the two 'main' girls in his life.
At my school the formal or the 'prom' which is held at the end of year 12 and is the last major function of our school lives and you will be judged on everything.
I have been planning my dress since year 7 and the issue of whom will be taken by whom has been a weekly if not daily topic of conversation for the past two years.
This friend: Yoo Fuh shall be her name, told me that Chris Skin Corruption that he had not asked either of us to the formal as of yet due to the fact that he was afraid of hurting our feelings. You might think "awww, cute; what a sensitive new age boy!"
I think "BASTARD. Of course I wouldn't be offended. I'll just get another bloody partner if he asks someone else. I cannot believe he thought of me so desperate."
I am pretty sensitive at the moment but whatever, to hell with restricted emotions.
ALL I WANT IS TO HAVE SOMEONE TAKE SOME KIND OF DIRECTION SO THAT I CAN KNOW WHAT I'M DOING.
I don't want to be sitting here thinking oh shit what if this person rejects me, or this one, would this person be avilable. I MEAN FOR CHRIST'S SAKE THERE'S NO TIME FOR THAT SHIT. I have a maths test to study for, a french writing task to scribble, an art prac to hopefully make magnificent and another assignment for art to try and perfect.
So what I concluded, after a briefly angry interlude, I will ask Kitchardd Rummekin whom I've known prior to birth. Our sisters went through school together, our mums discussed the feelings of having us inside and him and I played with tonka trucks and made sandcastles in prep. He was my mate.
The only slight issues is that I have not spoken to him for about four years. I don't even know who his friends are. I don't even know his interests.
All I know is: he has blonde hair, blue eyes and a slight skip to his walk.
His family is welsh, and if nothing's changed in four years he has a strange accent.
I'm Australian by the way.
He's fairly placid and he has a slight skip to his walk, I think he has that thing where you walk on you tip-e-toes.
I don't know whether to just bite the apple or dilly-dally.
Will you go to the formal with me?
Do you wanna go to the formal with me?
Hey you! I thought perhaps because we've known each other our whole lives- Do you remember playing trucks in the sandpit?--- I thought we could go to the formal together?
I'll definitely be wearing make-up to school tomorrow.
other things I'm nervous about: My drama performance tomorrow. I have to transform into an old man, with fiddling fingers and lots of money who was invented as a character about 1500 years ago or more. We also have to be funny. And this shit will be improvised, no scripts just costumes, props and wit.
SCARY.
My maths test, haven't completed any homework and I'm scared. I keep on thinking; a two hour test, obscure questions and lots of lined paper.
What if I freeze up?
What if I think I understand them and get them completely wrong?
What if I cry in the exam?
Shit.
I need to sleep.
so I'll leave you all and this incomplete shit-a-licious blog to contemplate and feel the gentle breeze of hush-a-bye mountain.
Thankyou if you read this.
GOOD NIGHT EVERYONE,
xGwen
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
My Amazing Day.
Today, I was woken by my mumma.
An interesting start.
I was in such a deep, ornate dream, I woke up disoriented.
I dreamt of combing a baby's hair. All of its hair was falling out, before it conclude, I awoke.
I wonder what the psychologists would say to that one.
I was reallllly late, I had to eat breakfast in the car. Which gives me kicks because it's not what your meant to do. Such a badass am I.
I go to school. I am in year 11, to clarify.
In english my friend and I spoke about ghosts, in particular, one she has been seeing on a regular basis at the end of her bed. I am yet to decide whether or not I believe in ghosts. I'm pretty sure I believe in spirits. Admittedly they scare me, but I think I believe in them. If they weren't real, how could they exist in so many diverse cultures and so much historic literature and still be a popular topic today?
How could there be so much prolonged fuss over something that isn't real?
I can't see ghosts nor can I feel them. I feel myself deflecting that stuff though.
I am afraid of 'the dark side'.
I avoid horror films. I close my eyes when people get 'shot' on Tv. I don't buy anything with skulls on it.
I avert my eyes to darkness like a coward. I just don't want that stuff to enter my mind. I believe in God, I'd like to believe in angels but don't really. I'm not sure. I think there's a greater power that you cannot see but as for the dead bodies with energised spirits, I'm reasonably sure they're around, but I am also reasonably sure I deflect them.
Is there a satan? If there is, in the act of entertaining these dark thoughts, distinguishing them, do we let that little devil in?
I could go on for hours.
basically: I walk quickly past the shadows; others I know however, they dance in them.
Maths: I did what I wasn't supposed to. Although, I do it every lesson, I talked, and giggled, and drew on the desk infront of me in pencil. considered what would happen if someone changed the automatic reactions of the body. Like when you orgasmed, if someone were to change the automatic response which is moaning to snorting or to the act of another completely unattractive function.
That thought entertained me for a while.
I grow so mindless in Mathematics. I suppose it's because I do not enjoy it; NOT ONE BIT.
that and I don't try anymore.
I hate that little fear of failure. I hate that limited thing called time sometimes. I wonder what a hard-worker I'd be if I didn't have the belief in making the most of your time. Doing things you ENJOY. For me that's not maths. For me, that's: art, drama (realism not improvisation), philosophy, meeting people, travel, looking through branches of trees. All of the atheorial things. and things that are pretty too. Oh God, I'm such a girl!
Maths put me on a high though. It was so emancipating to be so stupid, naughty and mindless. I finally understand criminals!
I love being that giggling little school girl sometimes, knowing that it really is just about time for me to grow up but enjoying the little things so much that it works in the opposite direction. Me growing (or shrinking as it seems) to be more and more immature. Delighting in the temporary freedom of mindlessness.
At morning tea -or 'recess' as that big, capitalist, daddy country calls it- my two close friends and I sat under a green jacaranda tree and giggled some more. I repeated my idea of re-tweaking the senses to allow for snorting orgasms and laughed at my own comic conceptual ideologies.
The next two periods of school were lame and so they will be skipped.
Lunch time started of like the signs of a bad smell. You can sense it there and you worry that it'll turn out as bad as it seems. Luckily a gentle breeze blew it away into the distance.
It began by me, having gotten out of class late, alone searching for friends, unsuccessfully, "Bugger." Thought, I.
PART TWO
I went and looked in the usual places and there was no one to be seen. It is the week before exams and so lunchtimes now appear an unaffordable luxury. I found a bunch of them (my cool dude friends that is) huddled together around a text book. On a beautiful blue-skied summer-like autumn day. right. I headed off, feeling somewhat defeated in my longing for a 'fun' lunchtime.
As I walked back, in some lucky strike of fate, I found my good friend, "LIVVVVVV, I FOUND YOUUU!". It was such an emotive reunion, one might say we looked like old ladies, the ones greet each other like they thought they'd never see each other again and hadn't seen each other for years. I'd seen liv but an hour prior. I hope she doesn't mind me using her name. Hopefully, the readers, if I have any, I hope you all have short memory spans.
Tuesdays are the day a near-by special school visits ours and we get to play with kids who have problems much greater than ours yet are so much freer than we are. You think one down-syndrome kid is just like another but what I discovered today is that although their looks are somewhat similar their personalities are all distinguishable and unique and they have wit too.
How I got there: Liv and I headed to the bathroom to wipe the sweat off our faces (it was 30degrees C today with 70%humidity HOOWEEE ITWASWARM) and to view our sweat patches. Ok, that was just me, and they were big mummas. MMMMMMMMMNNNNNN
and as we were entertaining these vain thoughts, a little girl greeted us. I'm unsure still of her illness (if you can call it that), she had a slight hunch and a little lisp but such a cheery and kind demeanour. She told us we should come and play in the sports centre with all the others, we thought that we couldn't (it is such a popular program, you have to be quick to put your name down to be able to do it). She insisted. She even held the doors open for us.
Liv and I utterly intrigued at the bewildering moments of life. How some oppurtunities arise out of nowhere that change your mentalities and the way in which you view your environment completely. I believe the experiences in life is what makes your personality; that what happens to us determines who we are. I was so happy to have this little person come and take me on an adventure that both Liv and I didn't hesitate; and off we went. Giggling ever so slightly at the strange occurrence of events in our lunchtime, enthralled in the happenings of this whole new world that had evolved in the sports centre. Astounded by what was around us.
It was so beautiful. Some were in mixed groups of kids from their school and kids from ours. No one excluded. Everyone playing together. One boy from my school teaching a little girl how to play basketball or at least getting a ball in the hoop: ball grasped with two hands, down between the knees, pulled up with all their might until behind the head and then released just in front of the face. often completely devoid of the hoop, but the girl with down syndrome grinning from ear to ear and the happiness you get from making another so happy very much apparent on the boy's face. She was so gorgeous.
Bethany, the girl who insistently invited us to come in and see her friends, Liv and I played ball games and then 'duck, duck, goose'. As we played this game, a couple of boys come and sat with us. Both with down-syndrome, one of them, I am unsure of his name, was severely affected it seemed, his eyes were nearly completely cross-eyed, I doubt his vision was great, but he had such a personality. As the group expanded, everyone so delighted with these exuberantly cheery little people, the game grew more and more exciting. The anticipation as to who would be chosen for the big chase, namely the 'goose' visible on the faces of everyone in the circle, especially the kids from my school. The boy who I mentioned before with the cross-eyes was chosen. He stood up "chicken" he bestowed as he tapped the head of the boy next to him.
He delighted in everyone's laughter, I don't know whether or not it was on purpose though, I don't think anyone else did either.
That lunchtime has been the highlight of my week thus far. Such beautiful people. Such luck to have that happen to us.
And then to place the big, juicy cherry and the top of the cake, I had a Duke of Edinburgh meeting this afternoon. The people who participate in this award are such cool kids. They're real, none of them good at sport, many of them amazing at school. They're not about aesthetics anyway.
we had a little meeting about an upcoming expedition; but the best part was the whispers during the presentation. I think I laughed so hard it went silent about four times.
That and the teacher who runs the meetings and the award is SUUUUPER COOL. She's awesome. She brought everything from white choc mud cake to dark choc mud cake to shapes, to tiny teddies to bananas and grapes. Food makes me happy. As you can understand a smorgas board like this one made me ecstatic!
And then I came home. And that's the end. I hope you enjoyed this. It's quite long. I think I'll divide it in two, for your reading pleasure.
NIIIIGHT.
Sweet Dreams
Love Gwen.
An interesting start.
I was in such a deep, ornate dream, I woke up disoriented.
I dreamt of combing a baby's hair. All of its hair was falling out, before it conclude, I awoke.
I wonder what the psychologists would say to that one.
I was reallllly late, I had to eat breakfast in the car. Which gives me kicks because it's not what your meant to do. Such a badass am I.
I go to school. I am in year 11, to clarify.
In english my friend and I spoke about ghosts, in particular, one she has been seeing on a regular basis at the end of her bed. I am yet to decide whether or not I believe in ghosts. I'm pretty sure I believe in spirits. Admittedly they scare me, but I think I believe in them. If they weren't real, how could they exist in so many diverse cultures and so much historic literature and still be a popular topic today?
How could there be so much prolonged fuss over something that isn't real?
I can't see ghosts nor can I feel them. I feel myself deflecting that stuff though.
I am afraid of 'the dark side'.
I avoid horror films. I close my eyes when people get 'shot' on Tv. I don't buy anything with skulls on it.
I avert my eyes to darkness like a coward. I just don't want that stuff to enter my mind. I believe in God, I'd like to believe in angels but don't really. I'm not sure. I think there's a greater power that you cannot see but as for the dead bodies with energised spirits, I'm reasonably sure they're around, but I am also reasonably sure I deflect them.
Is there a satan? If there is, in the act of entertaining these dark thoughts, distinguishing them, do we let that little devil in?
I could go on for hours.
basically: I walk quickly past the shadows; others I know however, they dance in them.
Maths: I did what I wasn't supposed to. Although, I do it every lesson, I talked, and giggled, and drew on the desk infront of me in pencil. considered what would happen if someone changed the automatic reactions of the body. Like when you orgasmed, if someone were to change the automatic response which is moaning to snorting or to the act of another completely unattractive function.
That thought entertained me for a while.
I grow so mindless in Mathematics. I suppose it's because I do not enjoy it; NOT ONE BIT.
that and I don't try anymore.
I hate that little fear of failure. I hate that limited thing called time sometimes. I wonder what a hard-worker I'd be if I didn't have the belief in making the most of your time. Doing things you ENJOY. For me that's not maths. For me, that's: art, drama (realism not improvisation), philosophy, meeting people, travel, looking through branches of trees. All of the atheorial things. and things that are pretty too. Oh God, I'm such a girl!
Maths put me on a high though. It was so emancipating to be so stupid, naughty and mindless. I finally understand criminals!
I love being that giggling little school girl sometimes, knowing that it really is just about time for me to grow up but enjoying the little things so much that it works in the opposite direction. Me growing (or shrinking as it seems) to be more and more immature. Delighting in the temporary freedom of mindlessness.
At morning tea -or 'recess' as that big, capitalist, daddy country calls it- my two close friends and I sat under a green jacaranda tree and giggled some more. I repeated my idea of re-tweaking the senses to allow for snorting orgasms and laughed at my own comic conceptual ideologies.
The next two periods of school were lame and so they will be skipped.
Lunch time started of like the signs of a bad smell. You can sense it there and you worry that it'll turn out as bad as it seems. Luckily a gentle breeze blew it away into the distance.
It began by me, having gotten out of class late, alone searching for friends, unsuccessfully, "Bugger." Thought, I.
PART TWO
I went and looked in the usual places and there was no one to be seen. It is the week before exams and so lunchtimes now appear an unaffordable luxury. I found a bunch of them (my cool dude friends that is) huddled together around a text book. On a beautiful blue-skied summer-like autumn day. right. I headed off, feeling somewhat defeated in my longing for a 'fun' lunchtime.
As I walked back, in some lucky strike of fate, I found my good friend, "LIVVVVVV, I FOUND YOUUU!". It was such an emotive reunion, one might say we looked like old ladies, the ones greet each other like they thought they'd never see each other again and hadn't seen each other for years. I'd seen liv but an hour prior. I hope she doesn't mind me using her name. Hopefully, the readers, if I have any, I hope you all have short memory spans.
Tuesdays are the day a near-by special school visits ours and we get to play with kids who have problems much greater than ours yet are so much freer than we are. You think one down-syndrome kid is just like another but what I discovered today is that although their looks are somewhat similar their personalities are all distinguishable and unique and they have wit too.
How I got there: Liv and I headed to the bathroom to wipe the sweat off our faces (it was 30degrees C today with 70%humidity HOOWEEE ITWASWARM) and to view our sweat patches. Ok, that was just me, and they were big mummas. MMMMMMMMMNNNNNN
and as we were entertaining these vain thoughts, a little girl greeted us. I'm unsure still of her illness (if you can call it that), she had a slight hunch and a little lisp but such a cheery and kind demeanour. She told us we should come and play in the sports centre with all the others, we thought that we couldn't (it is such a popular program, you have to be quick to put your name down to be able to do it). She insisted. She even held the doors open for us.
Liv and I utterly intrigued at the bewildering moments of life. How some oppurtunities arise out of nowhere that change your mentalities and the way in which you view your environment completely. I believe the experiences in life is what makes your personality; that what happens to us determines who we are. I was so happy to have this little person come and take me on an adventure that both Liv and I didn't hesitate; and off we went. Giggling ever so slightly at the strange occurrence of events in our lunchtime, enthralled in the happenings of this whole new world that had evolved in the sports centre. Astounded by what was around us.
It was so beautiful. Some were in mixed groups of kids from their school and kids from ours. No one excluded. Everyone playing together. One boy from my school teaching a little girl how to play basketball or at least getting a ball in the hoop: ball grasped with two hands, down between the knees, pulled up with all their might until behind the head and then released just in front of the face. often completely devoid of the hoop, but the girl with down syndrome grinning from ear to ear and the happiness you get from making another so happy very much apparent on the boy's face. She was so gorgeous.
Bethany, the girl who insistently invited us to come in and see her friends, Liv and I played ball games and then 'duck, duck, goose'. As we played this game, a couple of boys come and sat with us. Both with down-syndrome, one of them, I am unsure of his name, was severely affected it seemed, his eyes were nearly completely cross-eyed, I doubt his vision was great, but he had such a personality. As the group expanded, everyone so delighted with these exuberantly cheery little people, the game grew more and more exciting. The anticipation as to who would be chosen for the big chase, namely the 'goose' visible on the faces of everyone in the circle, especially the kids from my school. The boy who I mentioned before with the cross-eyes was chosen. He stood up "chicken" he bestowed as he tapped the head of the boy next to him.
He delighted in everyone's laughter, I don't know whether or not it was on purpose though, I don't think anyone else did either.
That lunchtime has been the highlight of my week thus far. Such beautiful people. Such luck to have that happen to us.
And then to place the big, juicy cherry and the top of the cake, I had a Duke of Edinburgh meeting this afternoon. The people who participate in this award are such cool kids. They're real, none of them good at sport, many of them amazing at school. They're not about aesthetics anyway.
we had a little meeting about an upcoming expedition; but the best part was the whispers during the presentation. I think I laughed so hard it went silent about four times.
That and the teacher who runs the meetings and the award is SUUUUPER COOL. She's awesome. She brought everything from white choc mud cake to dark choc mud cake to shapes, to tiny teddies to bananas and grapes. Food makes me happy. As you can understand a smorgas board like this one made me ecstatic!
And then I came home. And that's the end. I hope you enjoyed this. It's quite long. I think I'll divide it in two, for your reading pleasure.
NIIIIGHT.
Sweet Dreams
Love Gwen.
Firstly, a Justification
I am using this due to guilt of wasting paper. I've gone through three notebooks in recording three months. It's not good and poor old Mr.Environment is beginning to choke because of it. (perhaps a little over the top, I don feel guilty for using so much of the earth's resources though and have resolved to cut down anyway I can!)
Also because writing takes such a long time that by the time I've finished writing one word the whole sentence that had been formed in my head evaporates like water in a dessert. Super quick, enticing you then disappearing. Excuse my analogies also. There WILL be a few.
Lastly and the thing I feel I need to explain for the most is the fact that these confessions of inner-most thoughts and feelings will be public. I am not comfortable with this and scarcely afraid of criticism but I couldn't be bothered looking further down on google for other 'bloggers'. Basically I want to write this stuff, get it out of my head so that I can get on with my work.
I want to write this stuff so that it is preserved somehow. The concept of lost thoughts concerns me. I don't want to forget my memories. I at least want them recorded SOMEWHERE.
Somewhere deep inside it'd almost be nice for others to read this, not so that they will 'understand' me (I have family and friends for that) but so that these words, thoughts and feelings will be expressed in a manner that allows for others to actually hear it (or read as it so happens). In a small way I would like my opinions to be heard. I would like to tell a stranger about my day in some regards/circumstances.
Actually in a few years time you might have to pay to read my thoughts. I'm going to be an amazing journalist, and thus I am practising expression of ideas.
And so, I've found myself here. Having justified my choice to 'blog'.
Hopefully, you'll read this and understand.
If you don't I suppose you can creep someone else's thoughts and ideas or better yet you could steal someone's diary, read it and criticise it, in effect the two are the same right?
So.. Enjoy :D
I hope you enjoy a few, brief glimpses into my life,
Also because writing takes such a long time that by the time I've finished writing one word the whole sentence that had been formed in my head evaporates like water in a dessert. Super quick, enticing you then disappearing. Excuse my analogies also. There WILL be a few.
Lastly and the thing I feel I need to explain for the most is the fact that these confessions of inner-most thoughts and feelings will be public. I am not comfortable with this and scarcely afraid of criticism but I couldn't be bothered looking further down on google for other 'bloggers'. Basically I want to write this stuff, get it out of my head so that I can get on with my work.
I want to write this stuff so that it is preserved somehow. The concept of lost thoughts concerns me. I don't want to forget my memories. I at least want them recorded SOMEWHERE.
Somewhere deep inside it'd almost be nice for others to read this, not so that they will 'understand' me (I have family and friends for that) but so that these words, thoughts and feelings will be expressed in a manner that allows for others to actually hear it (or read as it so happens). In a small way I would like my opinions to be heard. I would like to tell a stranger about my day in some regards/circumstances.
Actually in a few years time you might have to pay to read my thoughts. I'm going to be an amazing journalist, and thus I am practising expression of ideas.
And so, I've found myself here. Having justified my choice to 'blog'.
Hopefully, you'll read this and understand.
If you don't I suppose you can creep someone else's thoughts and ideas or better yet you could steal someone's diary, read it and criticise it, in effect the two are the same right?
So.. Enjoy :D
I hope you enjoy a few, brief glimpses into my life,
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