Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Monday, May 31, 2010
Extremes.
I think today has been instrumental in some way, to forming a new idea, a new outlook.
My aim was to get my hair cut.
I didn't just do that.
Sure, my hair is a damned lot shorter.
But a friend of mine, being the person that she is, dragged me to shops with the intention of making me try something on. My grin grew wider and wider and her disappointment grew more evident as there seemed to be nothing I a) would try on and b)that was moderately attractive.
With my hope that the lack of attractive clothes would continue, I agreed to trying the next thing that she pulled off the shelves on without objection.
The next thing she pulled off was a strapless black dress. I don't do descriptions well especially of clothes, so I'm going to leave it at that. Except it had this lovely feel to it, and was in general a nice design.
But I don't do dresses. I never have the chance to wear them, I don't see the point in them building up in my closet. I've got a few, but the only one I wear regularly is this denim dress that I love but which I've pretty much grown out of.
So she pulls out this dress, and one for herself. I kind of fall in love with the dress on sight. But I refuse, thinking "What's the point of trying it on if you're not going to buy it, let alone wear it?"
She persuades me, and I pull off my jeans and T-shirt in the dressing rooms(My standard outfit wherever I go) and pull on and zip up this dress.
I turn around and look in the mirror, and cautiously call out to her asking if she's done. She's out already.
She looks at me and kind of gasps.
It's the one thing I can remember myself looking good in. And I know I denied it, but I actually looked and felt great in that one dress. And it's something I'd never do alone.
It is nice to feel that good, once in a while.
The dress was more than my budget, it was impractical being that I never would have had the chance to wear it, and my mother wouldn't buy it for me, seeing, as I do, the negatives about it, and the practicalities. So I didn't get it, and I won't.
But it's kind of opened my eyes to a few more possibilities.
Maybe now I can go and try clothes on that I can't afford, just for the feel of them.
Better yet, perhaps I will afford them, once I actually get a job. Which I'm sure to do soon enough with the amount of whoring myself out I'm doing.
Christ. Everything in my life is going so very right, and I have the chance to feel optimistic about a lot, and that's what I'm starting to try to do.
But everything in my life is going so very wrong.
I'm not going to lie. The most important person in my life is myself. I mean, it's my life.
But the person I care most about is not me, and they're no-one my friends would expect. Is it wrong, is it selfish to care more for one person than someone everyone expects you too?
All of my close friends and definitely my boyfriend are extremely high on the list, but this person, who isn't as close a friend as I would like... I care more for.
I'm just scared. Because I know I'm not even in the top ten on this persons list. And I'm urging a few of my friends to let go and find closure over what is causing them stress. And I know it's best for them. I can't follow my own advice. Not anywhere near.
I've cried myself to sleep probably ~50 times because of this one person, in the past few years.
It's horrible. I am a selfish git. There's a reason I'm not in the top percent, and it's because people such as those who are in the top deserve more care, deserve more attention, deserve more compassion.
I talk to them about the very same issues I am facing because of them. I advise them on what to do, albeit badly. All the while I'm screaming at them mentally to understand that they're making me feel what they feel.
It really sucks, not having someone you can trust 100%. Not even myself.
I haven't had a friend like that in two years. I know people are trying. I love that people are trying. When there's one person you're focused on, it's impossible to admit defeat. So I'm sorry to those trying people. I can't dig myself out of this spiral, and I've just recently made it worse.
So I'm slowly being driven mad by forgetting, or attempting to.
Send me to the looney bin.
I'll be happier amongst like-minded people.
My aim was to get my hair cut.
I didn't just do that.
Sure, my hair is a damned lot shorter.
But a friend of mine, being the person that she is, dragged me to shops with the intention of making me try something on. My grin grew wider and wider and her disappointment grew more evident as there seemed to be nothing I a) would try on and b)that was moderately attractive.
With my hope that the lack of attractive clothes would continue, I agreed to trying the next thing that she pulled off the shelves on without objection.
The next thing she pulled off was a strapless black dress. I don't do descriptions well especially of clothes, so I'm going to leave it at that. Except it had this lovely feel to it, and was in general a nice design.
But I don't do dresses. I never have the chance to wear them, I don't see the point in them building up in my closet. I've got a few, but the only one I wear regularly is this denim dress that I love but which I've pretty much grown out of.
So she pulls out this dress, and one for herself. I kind of fall in love with the dress on sight. But I refuse, thinking "What's the point of trying it on if you're not going to buy it, let alone wear it?"
She persuades me, and I pull off my jeans and T-shirt in the dressing rooms(My standard outfit wherever I go) and pull on and zip up this dress.
I turn around and look in the mirror, and cautiously call out to her asking if she's done. She's out already.
She looks at me and kind of gasps.
It's the one thing I can remember myself looking good in. And I know I denied it, but I actually looked and felt great in that one dress. And it's something I'd never do alone.
It is nice to feel that good, once in a while.
The dress was more than my budget, it was impractical being that I never would have had the chance to wear it, and my mother wouldn't buy it for me, seeing, as I do, the negatives about it, and the practicalities. So I didn't get it, and I won't.
But it's kind of opened my eyes to a few more possibilities.
Maybe now I can go and try clothes on that I can't afford, just for the feel of them.
Better yet, perhaps I will afford them, once I actually get a job. Which I'm sure to do soon enough with the amount of whoring myself out I'm doing.
Christ. Everything in my life is going so very right, and I have the chance to feel optimistic about a lot, and that's what I'm starting to try to do.
But everything in my life is going so very wrong.
I'm not going to lie. The most important person in my life is myself. I mean, it's my life.
But the person I care most about is not me, and they're no-one my friends would expect. Is it wrong, is it selfish to care more for one person than someone everyone expects you too?
All of my close friends and definitely my boyfriend are extremely high on the list, but this person, who isn't as close a friend as I would like... I care more for.
I'm just scared. Because I know I'm not even in the top ten on this persons list. And I'm urging a few of my friends to let go and find closure over what is causing them stress. And I know it's best for them. I can't follow my own advice. Not anywhere near.
I've cried myself to sleep probably ~50 times because of this one person, in the past few years.
It's horrible. I am a selfish git. There's a reason I'm not in the top percent, and it's because people such as those who are in the top deserve more care, deserve more attention, deserve more compassion.
I talk to them about the very same issues I am facing because of them. I advise them on what to do, albeit badly. All the while I'm screaming at them mentally to understand that they're making me feel what they feel.
It really sucks, not having someone you can trust 100%. Not even myself.
I haven't had a friend like that in two years. I know people are trying. I love that people are trying. When there's one person you're focused on, it's impossible to admit defeat. So I'm sorry to those trying people. I can't dig myself out of this spiral, and I've just recently made it worse.
So I'm slowly being driven mad by forgetting, or attempting to.
Send me to the looney bin.
I'll be happier amongst like-minded people.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Birthdays.
I've never really been a fan of huge birthday celebrations. I don't mind them, but I don't see much of a point in them. A birthday is an anniversary of a day we don't even remember. Everyone who's ever lived is born.
But I do love the excitement and general atmosphere of most birthdays.
My beautiful sister, Danica, turned eighteen yesterday, on the twenty-ninth of May. She invited some friends around, all of which also had Down syndrome, and we had ice cream cake and general snacks. She received three bunches of flowers, from her boyfriend, my father, and my father's girlfriend. All day yesterday she was glowing with excitement, and it was contagious.
My boyfriend was also over yesterday. Repeatedly she came into my room to inform both of us of her adulthood. I love how she, unlike my little brother, knocks.
He left for work, and my brother got back from a movie he saw with friends, and we sat and waited for her friends to arrive. One by one, they did. Jacob, Chris, and James came over and were smiling and happy, and Danica hid from them in her room because she felt shy.
But we poured drinks, and got out Cheetos, sweets, chocolates, and crisps, and she emerged from her room to find my younger brother showing off his newly-earned guitar skills, and her friends socialising with him. It's amazing, how good he is with people with disabilities sometimes. There are times where I doubt he has a nice bone in his body, but when I see something like that, it actually brings tears to my eyes.
We brought out the ice-cream cake, and my sister looked at it disdainfully, took a breath, and blew it out in one.
We hung around for a bit more, me pigging out on sweets and soft drink, them chatting and laughing and being the subject of photos.
A GT limousine pulled up outside our house, and we all scrambled to get a look. Mum had booked us a limo, to take us around the city.
The less romantic ideal is that we would end up at Sizzler. But that's what my sister wanted, and our chauffeur informed us it was not the first time he'd dropped people off there.
We first went to Kings Park, and let me tell you, the absolute highlight of being in a limo is the attention you get. Just about every car who drove by had passengers with eyes wide and mouths open. My mum waved at some people, quite vigorously... we were under the assumption that we could see out, but no-one could see in.
My favourite part of the ride was when we pulled up outside Sizzler, and a little girl with glasses was standing outside, waiting for her mum. She saw the limo, and her face absolutely transformed. Her mouth dropped open, into a look of surprise and absolute awe. Positively gleeful. I can remember that she started jumping, but I think my brain made that up. It was amazing.
The driver enjoyed it, I think, because of Chris, Danica, Jacob, and James' excitement- Disabled people are lucky, in that they tend not to place limitations on their excitement, they feel no need. Black Betty came on, and they were air drumming, air guitaring, and air keyboarding furiously. It was so amusing and heart-warming to watch.
Of course, photo's were a necessity. First off, the view- turning out on the camera nothing like it did on my eyes, but still damn amazing.
Then a couple of shots of lining up next to the limo.
The thing about being the photographer of the family is that you're always behind the camera, never in front.
But that's not necessarily a bad thing.
Even though my sister was turning 18, we didn't take advantage of the built in bar.
They all really enjoyed themselves on the ride, as did I. It's the first time I've been in a limousine, and it was a great experience.
I hope my sister has a fulfilling life as an adult.
But I do love the excitement and general atmosphere of most birthdays.
My beautiful sister, Danica, turned eighteen yesterday, on the twenty-ninth of May. She invited some friends around, all of which also had Down syndrome, and we had ice cream cake and general snacks. She received three bunches of flowers, from her boyfriend, my father, and my father's girlfriend. All day yesterday she was glowing with excitement, and it was contagious.
My boyfriend was also over yesterday. Repeatedly she came into my room to inform both of us of her adulthood. I love how she, unlike my little brother, knocks.
He left for work, and my brother got back from a movie he saw with friends, and we sat and waited for her friends to arrive. One by one, they did. Jacob, Chris, and James came over and were smiling and happy, and Danica hid from them in her room because she felt shy.
But we poured drinks, and got out Cheetos, sweets, chocolates, and crisps, and she emerged from her room to find my younger brother showing off his newly-earned guitar skills, and her friends socialising with him. It's amazing, how good he is with people with disabilities sometimes. There are times where I doubt he has a nice bone in his body, but when I see something like that, it actually brings tears to my eyes.
We brought out the ice-cream cake, and my sister looked at it disdainfully, took a breath, and blew it out in one.
We hung around for a bit more, me pigging out on sweets and soft drink, them chatting and laughing and being the subject of photos.
A GT limousine pulled up outside our house, and we all scrambled to get a look. Mum had booked us a limo, to take us around the city.
The less romantic ideal is that we would end up at Sizzler. But that's what my sister wanted, and our chauffeur informed us it was not the first time he'd dropped people off there.
We first went to Kings Park, and let me tell you, the absolute highlight of being in a limo is the attention you get. Just about every car who drove by had passengers with eyes wide and mouths open. My mum waved at some people, quite vigorously... we were under the assumption that we could see out, but no-one could see in.
My favourite part of the ride was when we pulled up outside Sizzler, and a little girl with glasses was standing outside, waiting for her mum. She saw the limo, and her face absolutely transformed. Her mouth dropped open, into a look of surprise and absolute awe. Positively gleeful. I can remember that she started jumping, but I think my brain made that up. It was amazing.
The driver enjoyed it, I think, because of Chris, Danica, Jacob, and James' excitement- Disabled people are lucky, in that they tend not to place limitations on their excitement, they feel no need. Black Betty came on, and they were air drumming, air guitaring, and air keyboarding furiously. It was so amusing and heart-warming to watch.
Of course, photo's were a necessity. First off, the view- turning out on the camera nothing like it did on my eyes, but still damn amazing.
Then a couple of shots of lining up next to the limo.
The thing about being the photographer of the family is that you're always behind the camera, never in front.
But that's not necessarily a bad thing.
Even though my sister was turning 18, we didn't take advantage of the built in bar.
They all really enjoyed themselves on the ride, as did I. It's the first time I've been in a limousine, and it was a great experience.
I hope my sister has a fulfilling life as an adult.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
If wishes were fishes...
I wish you could be friends with all the people you felt the need to be friends with simultaneously.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Jumbled.
I've been writing too many of these lately. Perhaps I ought to slow down a bit.
Or perhaps not.
That last post, that last one was an emotional explosion, and I'm sorry to the person it's directed to, I really am.
But I'm leaving it up, because I don't think deleting it is quite the right thing to do. It's not honest to myself, if that makes any sense whatsoever.
And I think they'd appreciate to know exactly what I'm feeling.
Maybe not quite in that way, but they would. But that's the way I express myself. Through writing.
When they do read it, I hope they keep reading others after it, because they're the ones that show how much I appreciate them usually.
I really wish I didn't have emotions.
I wish that I could put up a semblance of emotion though.
To be a psychopath would be simple. I wouldn't have barely anything to distract me from what I need to do.
Anyway, another topic, because although none of you might be able to tell, I'm getting really worked up and my hands are hammering the keyboard furiously.
Today I'm going job-whoring. Selling myself for the purpose of getting a job. And it's something I may hate, because I am not self-confident and the only thing I can see good about myself at certain points in time is that I am most definitely an individual. Which fits Champion perfectly (...fiercely individualistic). But what doesn't fit Champion is that I'm a pessimistic being. And being individual is the ONLY thing I quite like about myself.
But I really need a job, and it's been long enough without having one. A good 15 years.
So I'm crossing my fingers that I will be able to acquire one.
But good news to anyone who actually bothers to read, good news. I will stop frequenting Blogger as much. Not stop altogether, but mkaybe back to posts every three days?
Which means it'll be a hell of a lot easier to keep up with me. And I'll be able to keep up with myself too.
I'll turn back to the diary which I have, truth be told, neglected since I started here.
Thanks for reading.
Or perhaps not.
That last post, that last one was an emotional explosion, and I'm sorry to the person it's directed to, I really am.
But I'm leaving it up, because I don't think deleting it is quite the right thing to do. It's not honest to myself, if that makes any sense whatsoever.
And I think they'd appreciate to know exactly what I'm feeling.
Maybe not quite in that way, but they would. But that's the way I express myself. Through writing.
When they do read it, I hope they keep reading others after it, because they're the ones that show how much I appreciate them usually.
I really wish I didn't have emotions.
I wish that I could put up a semblance of emotion though.
To be a psychopath would be simple. I wouldn't have barely anything to distract me from what I need to do.
Anyway, another topic, because although none of you might be able to tell, I'm getting really worked up and my hands are hammering the keyboard furiously.
Today I'm going job-whoring. Selling myself for the purpose of getting a job. And it's something I may hate, because I am not self-confident and the only thing I can see good about myself at certain points in time is that I am most definitely an individual. Which fits Champion perfectly (...fiercely individualistic). But what doesn't fit Champion is that I'm a pessimistic being. And being individual is the ONLY thing I quite like about myself.
But I really need a job, and it's been long enough without having one. A good 15 years.
So I'm crossing my fingers that I will be able to acquire one.
But good news to anyone who actually bothers to read, good news. I will stop frequenting Blogger as much. Not stop altogether, but mkaybe back to posts every three days?
Which means it'll be a hell of a lot easier to keep up with me. And I'll be able to keep up with myself too.
I'll turn back to the diary which I have, truth be told, neglected since I started here.
Thanks for reading.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Another dear.
It's perfectly fine to be down, it's perfectly fine.
I know that much.
I'm not down.
Just when you make a comment like that... that's where my obsession with obligations stems from.
Do you hate it? Really? Would you rather be somewhere else? Are you stuck here? 'Cause you know, you're free to leave whenever. If you've got these queues of people, I don't care.
Is it an obligation?
Because that's what it's starting to sound like.
You say you're sorry, but when you can't figure out what you even said wrong...
I don't know. I just don't fucking know.
I'm sitting at the keyboard crying my eyes out and shaking like a leaf.
You get worried at the slightest downturn of my voice, or when anything at all sounds forced. The first few times I let my voice show anything, I forced it happy, I forced it high, and I sounded convincing even to me.
I don't blame you.
I'm getting far too good at lying for my own comfort.
I'm overreacting.
But really, shouldn't that be top of the list of things not to say?
I know that much.
I'm not down.
Just when you make a comment like that... that's where my obsession with obligations stems from.
Do you hate it? Really? Would you rather be somewhere else? Are you stuck here? 'Cause you know, you're free to leave whenever. If you've got these queues of people, I don't care.
Is it an obligation?
Because that's what it's starting to sound like.
You say you're sorry, but when you can't figure out what you even said wrong...
I don't know. I just don't fucking know.
I'm sitting at the keyboard crying my eyes out and shaking like a leaf.
You get worried at the slightest downturn of my voice, or when anything at all sounds forced. The first few times I let my voice show anything, I forced it happy, I forced it high, and I sounded convincing even to me.
I don't blame you.
I'm getting far too good at lying for my own comfort.
I'm overreacting.
But really, shouldn't that be top of the list of things not to say?
You know...
... you're upset.
Don't tell me not to look when your eyes are filling up, spilling over.
Don't react against her. You know it's childish and it proves nothing.
She cares a lot about you. You know that. You hate that you're pushing her away, but you think you need to. But you know you can do better, and supposedly 'not caring' is going to make it worse.
You're spiralling. Spiralling down.
But all it takes is effort. Put some in. You can do it.
You have it in you.
I think I knoow you the best, or the next best in this world.
I don't understand you. I don't pretend to.
But I know you.
And it kills me seeing you tear up your dreams. Changing to be someone different. All it takes is effort.
And I'm right by your side.
Don't tell me not to look when your eyes are filling up, spilling over.
Don't react against her. You know it's childish and it proves nothing.
She cares a lot about you. You know that. You hate that you're pushing her away, but you think you need to. But you know you can do better, and supposedly 'not caring' is going to make it worse.
You're spiralling. Spiralling down.
But all it takes is effort. Put some in. You can do it.
You have it in you.
I think I knoow you the best, or the next best in this world.
I don't understand you. I don't pretend to.
But I know you.
And it kills me seeing you tear up your dreams. Changing to be someone different. All it takes is effort.
And I'm right by your side.
I think we all deserve this.
So there's a couple of things I'd like to share.
I was notified of this Ten-Year Self-Improvement Challenge over Facebook, by someone I'd like to call a friend, but that might not be quite correct, as I don't know them in a way other than Facebook.
I had posted a status about doing one of those photo diaries. In this I'd take a photo of myself every day, for a few years, and compile the photos into a video at the end of this time period.
She commented to tell me I could potentially make it part of TYSIC.
So I have.
I'm quite excited about this.
It's the first long term project I've taken on that I feel I can accomplish.
Perhaps as a teenager it marks the beginning of something.
It might not.
I'm a bit late in my aim, it started on March 4th, and it is meant to end on the 4th of March 2020. The person who undertook this massive project aims to blog everyday. He's a comedian. You can read more about it here. Perhaps even undertake something of your own, albeit three months late.
I guess I'll finish on the 24th of May, 2020, if not earlier.
This three hour a day thing is working.
Just. I have about ten minutes left.
It's also 6 minutes to twelve AM.
Maybe I should organise my time better.
I'm listening to an album I bought today when I was shopping with a couple of good friends of mine after exams. It is an absolutely crazy album, and the band (The Violent Femmes) is on the shortlist to possibly become my future favourite, and that's something, to at least come close to beating the pure magic of Radiohead.
The bands versatility is amazing.
I recommend you listen.
I'm the only one I know who has not eased off buying CD's at all, apart from maybe one person. Today I bought The Violent Femmes' Add It Up, yesterday I bought Morrissey's Kill Uncle, (also a fantastic album), and last Sunday I bought The Alternative Album Vol. 2 (A good album, but not the best of the compilation series) I could go back and list the instance I bought or acquired each of the 61 CD's I own (Pathetic, I know) but that would mean a very long post that not even I would bother to read.
Music makes up this huge, non-erasable part of my life. It's good, having steady things to rely on, to me, as you've probably seen through my last few blog entries. I always thought I hated life being steady. I cause trouble for myself to make it not so. Counselling helped me realise who I am, but I'm still more a mystery to myself than I am to anyone else. However, no-one seems happy to inform me of the negatives.
Here's a challenge I pose to you; In the next week, being that most of you know me personally, tell me something you really, intensely dislike about me. I'm asking you to, for my sake. Please do.
Thanks for reading.
Brittany.
I was notified of this Ten-Year Self-Improvement Challenge over Facebook, by someone I'd like to call a friend, but that might not be quite correct, as I don't know them in a way other than Facebook.
I had posted a status about doing one of those photo diaries. In this I'd take a photo of myself every day, for a few years, and compile the photos into a video at the end of this time period.
She commented to tell me I could potentially make it part of TYSIC.
So I have.
I'm quite excited about this.
It's the first long term project I've taken on that I feel I can accomplish.
Perhaps as a teenager it marks the beginning of something.
It might not.
I'm a bit late in my aim, it started on March 4th, and it is meant to end on the 4th of March 2020. The person who undertook this massive project aims to blog everyday. He's a comedian. You can read more about it here. Perhaps even undertake something of your own, albeit three months late.
I guess I'll finish on the 24th of May, 2020, if not earlier.
This three hour a day thing is working.
Just. I have about ten minutes left.
It's also 6 minutes to twelve AM.
Maybe I should organise my time better.
I'm listening to an album I bought today when I was shopping with a couple of good friends of mine after exams. It is an absolutely crazy album, and the band (The Violent Femmes) is on the shortlist to possibly become my future favourite, and that's something, to at least come close to beating the pure magic of Radiohead.
The bands versatility is amazing.
I recommend you listen.
I'm the only one I know who has not eased off buying CD's at all, apart from maybe one person. Today I bought The Violent Femmes' Add It Up, yesterday I bought Morrissey's Kill Uncle, (also a fantastic album), and last Sunday I bought The Alternative Album Vol. 2 (A good album, but not the best of the compilation series) I could go back and list the instance I bought or acquired each of the 61 CD's I own (Pathetic, I know) but that would mean a very long post that not even I would bother to read.
Music makes up this huge, non-erasable part of my life. It's good, having steady things to rely on, to me, as you've probably seen through my last few blog entries. I always thought I hated life being steady. I cause trouble for myself to make it not so. Counselling helped me realise who I am, but I'm still more a mystery to myself than I am to anyone else. However, no-one seems happy to inform me of the negatives.
Here's a challenge I pose to you; In the next week, being that most of you know me personally, tell me something you really, intensely dislike about me. I'm asking you to, for my sake. Please do.
Thanks for reading.
Brittany.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Break luck.
It's hard to keep the simple things of life going when you've got so much going on around you.
I haven't found the time to sit down in the middle of the day and read a book for god knows how long.
At least, I can't remember doing it. Maybe that is a result of my terrible memory.
Mind you, this is a result of being on the phone for a couple of hours a day, going places and inviting people around near enough every weekend, plus being at school, doing homework and revision, and going to my drama class.
I complain about the subjects I do. I shouldn't. I actually am in love with them.
I love learning about society, and I love that I'm able to pick and choose what I'm able to learn. I love that I'm not doing any sciences, I love that I don't have a shedload of homework, I love that I can be on the phone and the computer for four hours a night. I love that I'm fulfilling my interests.
I've just become one of those people who are too expectant.
As I said in a previous blog of mine, on another site- "Around me people can't wait to start uni, start driving, move out, get jobs, earn money... and then, following on logically, grow old and die.
Of course, the last two aren't mentioned."
I am one of those people.
I am one of the biggest hypocrites I know.
Before any of that happens, before the future pounces on me, I've got to pass these exams, and I've got to figure out a way not to procrastinate, not to take up time needlessly.
The biggest cause of this I can definitely say is having my own laptop.
It ruins lives.
And creates them.
I resolve to be on the laptop no more than three hours a day during exam break.
That's starting on Monday, the 24th of May, 2010, until the end of Friday, the 4th of June, 2010.
There we are.
A resolution with definite boundaries.
Break a leg Brittany.
No, that's for performing.
Good luck.
No that's not quite right either. I am putting on an act in a way, an act of putting off procrastinating, which is something I'm going to return to.
Procrastinating procrastinating. Putting off putting off. There's a poetic feel in that.
It may be a long, two week act, which no-one is willing to see.
But it's an act.
So; Good leg, Brittany. Break luck.
Thanks for reading.
I haven't found the time to sit down in the middle of the day and read a book for god knows how long.
At least, I can't remember doing it. Maybe that is a result of my terrible memory.
Mind you, this is a result of being on the phone for a couple of hours a day, going places and inviting people around near enough every weekend, plus being at school, doing homework and revision, and going to my drama class.
I complain about the subjects I do. I shouldn't. I actually am in love with them.
I love learning about society, and I love that I'm able to pick and choose what I'm able to learn. I love that I'm not doing any sciences, I love that I don't have a shedload of homework, I love that I can be on the phone and the computer for four hours a night. I love that I'm fulfilling my interests.
I've just become one of those people who are too expectant.
As I said in a previous blog of mine, on another site- "Around me people can't wait to start uni, start driving, move out, get jobs, earn money... and then, following on logically, grow old and die.
Of course, the last two aren't mentioned."
I am one of those people.
I am one of the biggest hypocrites I know.
Before any of that happens, before the future pounces on me, I've got to pass these exams, and I've got to figure out a way not to procrastinate, not to take up time needlessly.
The biggest cause of this I can definitely say is having my own laptop.
It ruins lives.
And creates them.
I resolve to be on the laptop no more than three hours a day during exam break.
That's starting on Monday, the 24th of May, 2010, until the end of Friday, the 4th of June, 2010.
There we are.
A resolution with definite boundaries.
Break a leg Brittany.
No, that's for performing.
Good luck.
No that's not quite right either. I am putting on an act in a way, an act of putting off procrastinating, which is something I'm going to return to.
Procrastinating procrastinating. Putting off putting off. There's a poetic feel in that.
It may be a long, two week act, which no-one is willing to see.
But it's an act.
So; Good leg, Brittany. Break luck.
Thanks for reading.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Reliance and responsibility...
I'm thankful to have friends, friends I'm able to cry next to without feeling guilty, friends I can talk to about pretty much anything, and friends who I know are just there, just steadfast and trying to be strong, for themselves as well as me. A lot of people I know have none of those types of friends.
And I have all.
And I feel unlucky.
Maybe I need to learn to appreciate every aspect of friendship. Because those don't define anything.
I'm even luckier to have someone like my boyfriend. It's the first time in my life I know that no matter what happens, I can crawl to him on my hands and knees and he'll bend down and pick me up. We can just lie, me on his chest listening to his heartbeat.
You know how reassuring someone else's heartbeat is? It's so steady, and it confirms that you are alive yourself. You're hearing that. That is a life, and those vibrations of sound, those vibrations are your ears taking in information. That information, is transmitted to your brain. Your brain. Which does that unconciously. Which does a million and one different acts for you that you're not even aware of. But that's why you're living.
It upsets me that I have a weak heartbeat. Pressing my hands to my chest, fucking indenting it I'm pressing so hard, I can't feel a thing most of the time.
Maybe it's symbolic. I'm going to stand there for people as long as I can, but I can't cope well, I can't cope well at all.
What worries me is that if he's on his hands and knees, will I be able to pull him up?
Would I be able to pull any of my friends up?
I don't really think I'm that strong, that confident, that positive.
But I can try.
And I'll try my hardest.
And I'll improve.
I will.
Brittany.
One night to be confused
One night to speed up truth
We had a promise paid
Four hands and then away
Both under influence
We had a divine sense
To know what to say
Mind is a razor blade
To call for hands of above
to lean on
Wouldn't be good enough
for me, no
One night of magic rush
The start a simple touch
One night to push and scream
And then relief
Ten days of perfect tunes
The colors red and blue
We had a promise made
We were in love
To call for hands of above
to lean on
Wouldn't be good enough
for me, no
To call for hands of above
to lean on
Wouldn't be good enough
And you, you knew the hand of the devil
And you, kept us awake with wolves teeth
Sharing different heartbeats
In one night
To call for hands of above
to lean on
Wouldn't be good enough
for me, no
To call for hands of above
to lean on
Wouldn't be good enough
And I have all.
And I feel unlucky.
Maybe I need to learn to appreciate every aspect of friendship. Because those don't define anything.
I'm even luckier to have someone like my boyfriend. It's the first time in my life I know that no matter what happens, I can crawl to him on my hands and knees and he'll bend down and pick me up. We can just lie, me on his chest listening to his heartbeat.
You know how reassuring someone else's heartbeat is? It's so steady, and it confirms that you are alive yourself. You're hearing that. That is a life, and those vibrations of sound, those vibrations are your ears taking in information. That information, is transmitted to your brain. Your brain. Which does that unconciously. Which does a million and one different acts for you that you're not even aware of. But that's why you're living.
It upsets me that I have a weak heartbeat. Pressing my hands to my chest, fucking indenting it I'm pressing so hard, I can't feel a thing most of the time.
Maybe it's symbolic. I'm going to stand there for people as long as I can, but I can't cope well, I can't cope well at all.
What worries me is that if he's on his hands and knees, will I be able to pull him up?
Would I be able to pull any of my friends up?
I don't really think I'm that strong, that confident, that positive.
But I can try.
And I'll try my hardest.
And I'll improve.
I will.
Brittany.
One night to be confused
One night to speed up truth
We had a promise paid
Four hands and then away
Both under influence
We had a divine sense
To know what to say
Mind is a razor blade
To call for hands of above
to lean on
Wouldn't be good enough
for me, no
One night of magic rush
The start a simple touch
One night to push and scream
And then relief
Ten days of perfect tunes
The colors red and blue
We had a promise made
We were in love
To call for hands of above
to lean on
Wouldn't be good enough
for me, no
To call for hands of above
to lean on
Wouldn't be good enough
And you, you knew the hand of the devil
And you, kept us awake with wolves teeth
Sharing different heartbeats
In one night
To call for hands of above
to lean on
Wouldn't be good enough
for me, no
To call for hands of above
to lean on
Wouldn't be good enough
Thursday, May 20, 2010
What is 'human' anyway?
You know what fucking terrifies me?
Growing up.
I'm in year eleven now.
I have one more year left at school, after this one has passed.
People, peers, are leaving school, making their careers work for them. I feel like I don't have a choice, like I'm stuck.
I want to move! I want to go to uni, now. I feel as if I'm ready- grades don't seem to matter, but they do, so much, and it just binds you.
I fucking hate obligations.
I want to go to uni, and sit down and work at what I want to do.
I know all I'm doing at school is work. But I'd like to do uni work. I want to learn something specific to me. Drama. Teaching. English.
Not what I'm doing now. Forget Law and Politics. Forget Modern History. Forget Psychology. And fuck, forget Maths.
I'm really interested in the subjects I'm doing this year. But I just want to learn them. Not to do assignments and booklets on them. Chuck a few textbooks at me, leave me alone in a room for an hour or two, and I'll be engrossed.
Maths you can just forget about. I'm decent, I just can't force an interest.
That's a selfish wish.
Humans are selfish though.
I'm just human.
I'm also apparently a Champion. Extroverted, Intuitive, Feeling, Perceiving.
And it describes me to a t.
Other than I'm a negative little so-and so.
Other than that it is an amazingly accurate description of how I percieve myself, at least within my own mind.
You should really find out what you are.
If it turned out that accurate for me, it's got to be just as accurate for others.
Today has helped me realise I can appreciate people I am surrounded by as people.
I have yet to realise everyones potential.
Thanks for reading.
Brittany.
Growing up.
I'm in year eleven now.
I have one more year left at school, after this one has passed.
People, peers, are leaving school, making their careers work for them. I feel like I don't have a choice, like I'm stuck.
I want to move! I want to go to uni, now. I feel as if I'm ready- grades don't seem to matter, but they do, so much, and it just binds you.
I fucking hate obligations.
I want to go to uni, and sit down and work at what I want to do.
I know all I'm doing at school is work. But I'd like to do uni work. I want to learn something specific to me. Drama. Teaching. English.
Not what I'm doing now. Forget Law and Politics. Forget Modern History. Forget Psychology. And fuck, forget Maths.
I'm really interested in the subjects I'm doing this year. But I just want to learn them. Not to do assignments and booklets on them. Chuck a few textbooks at me, leave me alone in a room for an hour or two, and I'll be engrossed.
Maths you can just forget about. I'm decent, I just can't force an interest.
That's a selfish wish.
Humans are selfish though.
I'm just human.
I'm also apparently a Champion. Extroverted, Intuitive, Feeling, Perceiving.
And it describes me to a t.
Other than I'm a negative little so-and so.
Other than that it is an amazingly accurate description of how I percieve myself, at least within my own mind.
You should really find out what you are.
If it turned out that accurate for me, it's got to be just as accurate for others.
Today has helped me realise I can appreciate people I am surrounded by as people.
I have yet to realise everyones potential.
Thanks for reading.
Brittany.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Repetition
Acting.
It's a beautiful, meaningful thing.
At least stage acting is.
It loses its meaning once you've tried to memorise something over, and over, and over, and over, and over again. And the only thing going through your mind is the piece you're trying to memorise.
Today I performed a monologue, for my school drama class. It was a monologue I wrote.
Our task was to write a monologue that lasted from four to six minutes, and preferably a monologue that had some meaning to us. Mine had every ounce of me put into it.
My school drama teacher said it was perfect, after I changed it from its' original ending. I, being a perfectionist and not being happy with no critique, took it to my extra-curricular drama class and had that teacher look at it.
She looked up from it, and she looked me dead in the eyes and told me it was amazing.
I didn't believe it. Literally, not some airy-fairy "Oh my god, are you serious? I don't believe you just said that!"
But I just didn't believe it.
But there isn't much you can do to improve with no critique.
So I memorised it, and decided on costuming, lighting, and props.
And we've had SO bloody long to work on it. I am thoroughly sick of it, and I bloody hate the thing now, and I don't see any perfection, let alone an ounce of good writing within it. I just wanted it to be over with.
Finally, our times were scheduled. I was to perform it on Friday, the 14th of May.
And then, when I'd packed all my stuff for it, the day I was going to perform it I started vomiting. So I put it off until today, Tuesday the 18th. It was a long four days.
Okay. So imagine I'm sitting in a darkened room. Suddenly, the lights come up behind me, so my face is in shadow and I'm an outline on stage. You can see I'm sitting on a quilt, with a pillow next to me, and a plush toy in my arms. I'm wearing childish summer pyjamas. I begin to speak.
It's dark. So dark at night.
In the day, there are so many colours. Red. Green. Blue. As I say the colours, coloured lights that match them flash up.
I point, and I wave, and I tell people to look. Look at the colours. They're beautiful.
But they don't listen, or they don't hear. The words don't come out.
They look. They nod. They smile. But they don't see.
There's a cloud. They have a cloud.
Or a mist. It blocks out their... understanding
Thoughts. They're so full of them, that they can't see.
They look at me with sympathy. Really, they're the ones missing out.
I don't have to be critical.
I can laugh, and just laugh, I don't have to understand.
I can cry. Just cry.
But sometimes I wish people would just notice me. Me. Not what surrounds me.
Here. I put my fist on my chest... Or here. I put my other fist on the other side of my chest looking confused.
Will people ever stop and talk to me? Rather than glance at me with pity, then keep walking?
People aren't always very fair. Or nice. Don't they know I do not like looks of pity?
To come across something that you don't like that much every day- is it a good thing for a person to experience?
I don't know other peoples thoughts. Perhaps that isn't what they're thinking.
Or maybe they do realise who I am, and what I need. They just choose not to give it.
I need help. But I also need compassion.
I can't help being who I am.
I may not be smarter than everyone else, or as smart as.
I may not get my point across as easily.
Sometimes I might be annoying.
I'm not something wrong, I'm just... different.
Every step of the way, I need guides.
But guides are people.
People I love.
People who love me.
They respect me, cherish me, admire me, and let me know that.
They still can't see.
But they're not blind.
I raise my head to gaze directly at the audience
Think about it. How blind are you?
Not many people know that much. I close my eyes. With each statement, I cast my head farther downward.
Dumb. Whispers. "What's wrong with her? Why does that girl look funny?"
Close your mouths. Open eyes and stare at audience without lifting head up. Don't let that word 'retard' escape.
Imagine throughout the whole piece, light had been building up from the front gradually.
Raise head to look at audience directly. Are you deaf, too?
At this point, the light- almost fully bright at front now, switches back to the outlining me it did at the start of the monologue.
I play a recording of my sister with downsyndrome speaking. "It's dark. So dark at night."
At least, that's how I hoped my monologue would go.
It basically followed the structure I set for it, but I forgot my lines thrice, and had to have a single word prompt.
So my monologue is based on an issue very important to me.
My older sister has down syndrome, and I love her to bits.
I wrote the monologue from her point of view, her thoughts, at least I tried. Of course I incooperated a lot of elements,but I kept it as simple as I could so as not to detract meaning.
I also changed the character- in the character workshops we did, I developed my character to be a 12 year old girl called Iesha, but still with the same disability.
I didn't base it on anyone but my sister, but I got the name- a name I love- from someone I know.
I did the monologue, but I had absolutely no feeling performing it- it was as if, I don't know, I was this shell reading lines and trying to put emotion into it
I got some great comments from Mr. D though, and friends and some not-so-much friends told me that it was great. So I can't have been so bad.
I don't want to ramble too much about it.
So thanks for reading.
I do appreciate it.
Brittany.
It's a beautiful, meaningful thing.
At least stage acting is.
It loses its meaning once you've tried to memorise something over, and over, and over, and over, and over again. And the only thing going through your mind is the piece you're trying to memorise.
Today I performed a monologue, for my school drama class. It was a monologue I wrote.
Our task was to write a monologue that lasted from four to six minutes, and preferably a monologue that had some meaning to us. Mine had every ounce of me put into it.
My school drama teacher said it was perfect, after I changed it from its' original ending. I, being a perfectionist and not being happy with no critique, took it to my extra-curricular drama class and had that teacher look at it.
She looked up from it, and she looked me dead in the eyes and told me it was amazing.
I didn't believe it. Literally, not some airy-fairy "Oh my god, are you serious? I don't believe you just said that!"
But I just didn't believe it.
But there isn't much you can do to improve with no critique.
So I memorised it, and decided on costuming, lighting, and props.
And we've had SO bloody long to work on it. I am thoroughly sick of it, and I bloody hate the thing now, and I don't see any perfection, let alone an ounce of good writing within it. I just wanted it to be over with.
Finally, our times were scheduled. I was to perform it on Friday, the 14th of May.
And then, when I'd packed all my stuff for it, the day I was going to perform it I started vomiting. So I put it off until today, Tuesday the 18th. It was a long four days.
Okay. So imagine I'm sitting in a darkened room. Suddenly, the lights come up behind me, so my face is in shadow and I'm an outline on stage. You can see I'm sitting on a quilt, with a pillow next to me, and a plush toy in my arms. I'm wearing childish summer pyjamas. I begin to speak.
It's dark. So dark at night.
In the day, there are so many colours. Red. Green. Blue. As I say the colours, coloured lights that match them flash up.
I point, and I wave, and I tell people to look. Look at the colours. They're beautiful.
But they don't listen, or they don't hear. The words don't come out.
They look. They nod. They smile. But they don't see.
There's a cloud. They have a cloud.
Or a mist. It blocks out their... understanding
Thoughts. They're so full of them, that they can't see.
They look at me with sympathy. Really, they're the ones missing out.
I don't have to be critical.
I can laugh, and just laugh, I don't have to understand.
I can cry. Just cry.
But sometimes I wish people would just notice me. Me. Not what surrounds me.
Here. I put my fist on my chest... Or here. I put my other fist on the other side of my chest looking confused.
Will people ever stop and talk to me? Rather than glance at me with pity, then keep walking?
People aren't always very fair. Or nice. Don't they know I do not like looks of pity?
To come across something that you don't like that much every day- is it a good thing for a person to experience?
I don't know other peoples thoughts. Perhaps that isn't what they're thinking.
Or maybe they do realise who I am, and what I need. They just choose not to give it.
I need help. But I also need compassion.
I can't help being who I am.
I may not be smarter than everyone else, or as smart as.
I may not get my point across as easily.
Sometimes I might be annoying.
I'm not something wrong, I'm just... different.
Every step of the way, I need guides.
But guides are people.
People I love.
People who love me.
They respect me, cherish me, admire me, and let me know that.
They still can't see.
But they're not blind.
I raise my head to gaze directly at the audience
Think about it. How blind are you?
Not many people know that much. I close my eyes. With each statement, I cast my head farther downward.
Dumb. Whispers. "What's wrong with her? Why does that girl look funny?"
Close your mouths. Open eyes and stare at audience without lifting head up. Don't let that word 'retard' escape.
Imagine throughout the whole piece, light had been building up from the front gradually.
Raise head to look at audience directly. Are you deaf, too?
At this point, the light- almost fully bright at front now, switches back to the outlining me it did at the start of the monologue.
I play a recording of my sister with downsyndrome speaking. "It's dark. So dark at night."
At least, that's how I hoped my monologue would go.
It basically followed the structure I set for it, but I forgot my lines thrice, and had to have a single word prompt.
So my monologue is based on an issue very important to me.
My older sister has down syndrome, and I love her to bits.
I wrote the monologue from her point of view, her thoughts, at least I tried. Of course I incooperated a lot of elements,but I kept it as simple as I could so as not to detract meaning.
I also changed the character- in the character workshops we did, I developed my character to be a 12 year old girl called Iesha, but still with the same disability.
I didn't base it on anyone but my sister, but I got the name- a name I love- from someone I know.
I did the monologue, but I had absolutely no feeling performing it- it was as if, I don't know, I was this shell reading lines and trying to put emotion into it
I got some great comments from Mr. D though, and friends and some not-so-much friends told me that it was great. So I can't have been so bad.
I don't want to ramble too much about it.
So thanks for reading.
I do appreciate it.
Brittany.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Please, let the cycle repeat.
Remember that time we just sat?
We sat, in a park.
We sat, in a park, and talked.
We sat near fake metal trees.
I didn't get your reference and felt awkward.
I smiled to cover it up.
But it was a real smile.
We sat, in a park, near fake metal trees, looking over a lake.
And just talked.
I miss that.
I miss that a lot.
I wish I had it back.
I could just speak with you.
Can we just speak again?
Probably not.
Your eyes won't travel anywhere near this.
Perhaps that's a good thing.
We sat, in a park.
We sat, in a park, and talked.
We sat near fake metal trees.
I didn't get your reference and felt awkward.
I smiled to cover it up.
But it was a real smile.
We sat, in a park, near fake metal trees, looking over a lake.
And just talked.
I miss that.
I miss that a lot.
I wish I had it back.
I could just speak with you.
Can we just speak again?
Probably not.
Your eyes won't travel anywhere near this.
Perhaps that's a good thing.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Tough luck.
I am questioning everything about myself that I thought I knew.
I mean everything.
This surprises me greatly.
I mean everything.
This surprises me greatly.
Sick of...
...mind, sick of heart, sick of body.
I'll explain the first one first. I feel I'm going a little mad. I never used to have the problems with my mind that I have at the moment, and I'm confusing myself more, day by day, week by week.
I don't really know what's up with it.
I've never been one of those people who think before they speak. It's gotten worse of late. I think of a word, and before I know it, it's out of my mouth. Luckily for me, none of what I've said has been offensive. I'll just randomly blurt out stuff like "interesting" or thoughts like "No-one smiles AT you anymore."
I'm adding to my collection of weird looks. Nearly everyone in the school now, but not quite.
But in a way, I feel I'm improving my mind. I've become more negative, but it's not necessarily a bad thing.
Genius. That's what he was.
It's true, it's a great philosophy too.
Take, for example, just recently. I did a speech for my Literature class, and because I went a minute and a half over the time limit (7-10 minutes), and I didn't think my content was detailed enough, I thought I'd failed.
I ended up tying for top mark in the class- I did tie with a few other people, but still, top mark isn't anywhere near something to be ashamed of.
I was incredibly happy, and I know that I would have been less happy if I'd been expecting to do well.
There's my life lesson for the day. Now let's move on to more mundane things.
All of my friendships are wasting away. But don't worry, it's not bad for the environment- they're biodegradable.
It's far too hard to focus on friendships, schoolwork, homework, jobseeking, a love life, and enough sleep at the same time. And one of these things that are showing the strain is friendships.
I've tried so hard to strengthen bonds with people over the past two years. I've grown close with people, properly, for what might be the first time in my life. And I feel like I'm letting all of that work just... slip, because of my lack of confidence, my lack of courage to strike up conversation that I just know will turn around and bite me. I really hate the internet, but I love it dearly. It's what's caused a lot of my friendships. Reading friends blogs, talking to friends on MSN, seeing what friends are doing on Facebook. But you can't tell emotions through typing, unless it's blogging. And to be honest, that fucking destroys things.
That's why the only thing I'm not apprehensive about on the internet is blogging.
Or a good old email. But people don't know the meaning of email anymore. It's all instant.
I wish we'd stopped developing about five years ago, and focused on building up things around us- countries that need our help, keeping down rates of suicide or depression, figured out a way that humans can live without destroying themselves.
But that's bad, because I don't want to be stuck in the past, I am not a conservatist, I look towards the future- I can't live anything else.
But just to be able to sit down and talk to someone is something I miss. I haven't done that for months, physically at least.
It's all a big group who's far too involved with each other, one conversation going here, another going there. Then you hear your name or something else hat interests you mentioned in another conversation, and leave me feeling deflated and unwanted. I can't blame anyone who does this, I do it probably more than anyone else.
But it happens far too often.
I've got to start rebuilding my friendships. Then maybe my heart won't feel so sick anymore.
I'm writing this in my pyjamas, wrapped up snug in a dressing gown and uggs. Perhaps the least of my worries is the reason for me doing this in the middle of what should be a school day.
I don't like being sick. It makes me feel helpless, and that's something I cannot stand. That's why I don't like people paying for me, and I don't like talking openly to people anymore.
But I suppose you can't really go to school vomiting.
It's just against society's wishes.
What a pity I didn't realise that one day last year.
Thanks for reading.
Brittany.
I'll explain the first one first. I feel I'm going a little mad. I never used to have the problems with my mind that I have at the moment, and I'm confusing myself more, day by day, week by week.
I don't really know what's up with it.
I've never been one of those people who think before they speak. It's gotten worse of late. I think of a word, and before I know it, it's out of my mouth. Luckily for me, none of what I've said has been offensive. I'll just randomly blurt out stuff like "interesting" or thoughts like "No-one smiles AT you anymore."
I'm adding to my collection of weird looks. Nearly everyone in the school now, but not quite.
But in a way, I feel I'm improving my mind. I've become more negative, but it's not necessarily a bad thing.
"The nice part about being a pessimist is that you are constantly being either proven right or pleasantly surprised"
-George Will
Genius. That's what he was.
It's true, it's a great philosophy too.
Take, for example, just recently. I did a speech for my Literature class, and because I went a minute and a half over the time limit (7-10 minutes), and I didn't think my content was detailed enough, I thought I'd failed.
I ended up tying for top mark in the class- I did tie with a few other people, but still, top mark isn't anywhere near something to be ashamed of.
I was incredibly happy, and I know that I would have been less happy if I'd been expecting to do well.
There's my life lesson for the day. Now let's move on to more mundane things.
All of my friendships are wasting away. But don't worry, it's not bad for the environment- they're biodegradable.
It's far too hard to focus on friendships, schoolwork, homework, jobseeking, a love life, and enough sleep at the same time. And one of these things that are showing the strain is friendships.
I've tried so hard to strengthen bonds with people over the past two years. I've grown close with people, properly, for what might be the first time in my life. And I feel like I'm letting all of that work just... slip, because of my lack of confidence, my lack of courage to strike up conversation that I just know will turn around and bite me. I really hate the internet, but I love it dearly. It's what's caused a lot of my friendships. Reading friends blogs, talking to friends on MSN, seeing what friends are doing on Facebook. But you can't tell emotions through typing, unless it's blogging. And to be honest, that fucking destroys things.
That's why the only thing I'm not apprehensive about on the internet is blogging.
Or a good old email. But people don't know the meaning of email anymore. It's all instant.
I wish we'd stopped developing about five years ago, and focused on building up things around us- countries that need our help, keeping down rates of suicide or depression, figured out a way that humans can live without destroying themselves.
But that's bad, because I don't want to be stuck in the past, I am not a conservatist, I look towards the future- I can't live anything else.
But just to be able to sit down and talk to someone is something I miss. I haven't done that for months, physically at least.
It's all a big group who's far too involved with each other, one conversation going here, another going there. Then you hear your name or something else hat interests you mentioned in another conversation, and leave me feeling deflated and unwanted. I can't blame anyone who does this, I do it probably more than anyone else.
But it happens far too often.
I've got to start rebuilding my friendships. Then maybe my heart won't feel so sick anymore.
I'm writing this in my pyjamas, wrapped up snug in a dressing gown and uggs. Perhaps the least of my worries is the reason for me doing this in the middle of what should be a school day.
I don't like being sick. It makes me feel helpless, and that's something I cannot stand. That's why I don't like people paying for me, and I don't like talking openly to people anymore.
But I suppose you can't really go to school vomiting.
It's just against society's wishes.
What a pity I didn't realise that one day last year.
Thanks for reading.
Brittany.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Written previously.
Just a warning to anyone who actually read my MySpace blogs- all material copied from them, so you'll find yourself at a point of deja vu.
Just was trawling through my internet legacy, found these, and thought something of them.
A letter I wrote to an idea.
A cynical little piece.
Poem I wrote, based on technology, continuity, and time.
Don't blame you if you don't understand the references and devices and whatnot.
Untitled, war poem, crap 'cause I know nothing of it.
Thanks for reading.
Or not.
Brittany.
Just was trawling through my internet legacy, found these, and thought something of them.
The Game
Sitting in a void of nothingness,
While around me action rages on.
Wet hair frames my face,
Though my eyes are dry...
For once.
Cheering, unoriginal but heartening.
“Let’s go girls, lets go!”
Words, a thousand words traverse my mind.
But the ones seeking attention are the ones that get heard,
The ones transferred to the page.
Notes in my head, calming.
Pencil in hand, scribbling.
Chaos, but peace each way.
A faint smile on my face.
Dear Simplicity,
It's been a while since I've hung out with you, I'm really missing the times we had together. We had some good laughs and you contributed to some of my best memories.
Since you've left my life things have changed. Back then I knew where I was. I knew what I was. Sure, I had my down points, but you helped me through that, I actually knew they were down points. Now I'm a puddle of confusion. I'm hating the fact that everything used to run like clockwork, now I'm expecting more out of now because of previous experiences.
I suppose as I grow up we'll drift farther and farther apart. The power of speech was already lost between us.
People need to learn from you in particular. It's not that I can talk, I'm probably someone who looks completely away from you, who doesn't even think of you when I talk. When I act, even. You're someone everyone needs in their life, but that no-one will get to know for long periods of time. You're hard to find.
Though... I don't need a liar in my life. I'm not so sure that deception is the best way to go about things. You don't change anything for long, and you make promises that you can't keep. I need something I can rely on.
Sorry if I offended you. I honestly do miss you dearly, but you aren't what I need right now. Thanks for not offering.
Sincerely yours,
Brittany.
A letter I wrote to an idea.
Life
Idiotic
Lemmings
Opacity
Vexation
Egocentricity
Loveless
Illegitimacy
Failure
Embezzlement
?
Freedom
Utopia
Childishness
Kindness
Youth
Opulence
Usefulness
A cynical little piece.
Click Click
Slow shutter speed
Blurred motion
Click click.
A leap, running.
Faces, laughing.
Click click.
Smile, cheese.
Poses held.
Click click.
Now it's instant,
Ground looming.
Click click.
Out of film.
No more shots.
Click click.
A memory,
Captured in a box
Forever?
Poem I wrote, based on technology, continuity, and time.
Don't blame you if you don't understand the references and devices and whatnot.
Legless and lined,
Old stories wear him out.
Dull eyes, sad eyes, horrors he witnessed.
Pain and pride, mixed through in an oddly coloured stare.
As he tells of his swoops, falls, and victories.
Of friendship, and loss of life.
Is a country worth it?
Is the world?
His permanently downturned mouth
Struggles to open and shut,
A hoarse whisper
As he tells of the days long ago-
He could run, jump and skip with the best!
Then the days shortly after,
confined to a hospital bed.
An intense stare from unseeing eyes,
tells us what we need to know..
“Never again” he croaks,
As he slips back into nightmares.
Untitled, war poem, crap 'cause I know nothing of it.
Thanks for reading.
Or not.
Brittany.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Snapshots.
A hobby of mine is photography.
I do admit to playing around with contrast and saturation, but I don't admit to photoshopping in full, because I don't- it takes away the nature of photography itself.
Just a few shots I've taken over the last year or so. Actually, that sounded really casual; these are the best of them.
High contrast, unsaturated flowers, which were a surprise.
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High contrast, unsaturated spider. A massive one, at that, at my house before we moved.
Contrasted bay at Rottnest, at high tide. I didn't think much of it as a photo at first, but I was fiddling with contrast on a few photos, came across this one, upped the contrast, and it instantly became one of my favourites.
Upped saturation, after Christmas dinner. I like this photo, but I'm not completely sure why.
Upped contrast and saturation sunset.
Contrasted small flowers; I'd say what they are but I can't recall their names.
Unedited, and it's just a photo.
Unedited birthday dinner. Amazing what no flash can do.
Unedited Muse, live at BDO. Good day/night.
Contrasted tree. This photo creeps the hell out of me, in my opinion it looks like a headless person bending forward.
High saturation underwater body part jungle. I love this photo, I find it to be really cheerful. You can see my smile in the upper right corner.
So that ends my photo blog, I'll most likely do other photography dedicated posts, but there's my first.
Hope you appreciate it.
Thanks for reading.
I do admit to playing around with contrast and saturation, but I don't admit to photoshopping in full, because I don't- it takes away the nature of photography itself.
Just a few shots I've taken over the last year or so. Actually, that sounded really casual; these are the best of them.
High contrast, unsaturated flowers, which were a surprise.
.jpg)
High contrast, unsaturated spider. A massive one, at that, at my house before we moved.
Contrasted bay at Rottnest, at high tide. I didn't think much of it as a photo at first, but I was fiddling with contrast on a few photos, came across this one, upped the contrast, and it instantly became one of my favourites.
Upped saturation, after Christmas dinner. I like this photo, but I'm not completely sure why.
Upped contrast and saturation sunset.
Contrasted small flowers; I'd say what they are but I can't recall their names.
Unedited, and it's just a photo.
Unedited birthday dinner. Amazing what no flash can do.
Unedited Muse, live at BDO. Good day/night.
Contrasted tree. This photo creeps the hell out of me, in my opinion it looks like a headless person bending forward.
High saturation underwater body part jungle. I love this photo, I find it to be really cheerful. You can see my smile in the upper right corner.
So that ends my photo blog, I'll most likely do other photography dedicated posts, but there's my first.
Hope you appreciate it.
Thanks for reading.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Scripts.
As those of you who know me will already be aware of, I have a huge interest in language. Those of you who don't and haven't been following;
Have a look.
When I like a text, I don't just like it. I examine the text from every angle. When I love a text, the way I talk about it is incredibly impassioned- I am known for 'talking with my hands', but when I talk about a narrative or piece that I love, either my body language is so animated that I am exhausted by the end of a ten minute conversation, or I drift off in thought and speak as if I'm having an out of body experience.
When I very much dislike a piece, funnily enough, I have the same reaction. I love debate, analysis, and different viewpoints.
When I am asked to perform something, something scripted, I can't look at a piece without analysing every technique used, every inflection, every action in the stage directions. I love to act, and though I lack the necessary skill, it's one of the few times in my life I feel confident. The other is in my writing.
Back to the topic at hand.
For my extra-curricular drama class, I was given a monologue. Well, I've been given two, but this monologue I am to perform in front of parents, siblings, and anyone else who wants to show up. (Monologues are playing a big role in my drama studies this year, actually- for my exam in term two, I have been asked to write a monologue and perform it, and if it goes well, I aim to post it on here. If it doesn't... we shall see.)
This monologue appears to be untitled, and I don't know if it is from a play, but almost every word within it I agree with.
I am very much looking forward to performing it, it's not just a monologue, it's an opinion.
I'm not going to post the whole thing, just my favourite line.
It's not that ironic, just stupid, put that way.
In my dictionary, perfect and all its affiliates come between perfidious- "Treacherous or decietful" and peremptory- "expecting immediate obedience without any discussion."
Is perfect average? Or better than? For that matter, what is better than average?
It's all opinion.
Before I finish, I want to thank a friend of mine who mentioned.. well, dedicated a blog post to me. It was really something, and a smart way to actually make me accept a compliment. I really appreciate it. And until that last paragraph, where you directly addressed me, you'd judged my response perfectly.
Thanks for reading.
Have a look.
When I like a text, I don't just like it. I examine the text from every angle. When I love a text, the way I talk about it is incredibly impassioned- I am known for 'talking with my hands', but when I talk about a narrative or piece that I love, either my body language is so animated that I am exhausted by the end of a ten minute conversation, or I drift off in thought and speak as if I'm having an out of body experience.
When I very much dislike a piece, funnily enough, I have the same reaction. I love debate, analysis, and different viewpoints.
When I am asked to perform something, something scripted, I can't look at a piece without analysing every technique used, every inflection, every action in the stage directions. I love to act, and though I lack the necessary skill, it's one of the few times in my life I feel confident. The other is in my writing.
Back to the topic at hand.
For my extra-curricular drama class, I was given a monologue. Well, I've been given two, but this monologue I am to perform in front of parents, siblings, and anyone else who wants to show up. (Monologues are playing a big role in my drama studies this year, actually- for my exam in term two, I have been asked to write a monologue and perform it, and if it goes well, I aim to post it on here. If it doesn't... we shall see.)
This monologue appears to be untitled, and I don't know if it is from a play, but almost every word within it I agree with.
I am very much looking forward to performing it, it's not just a monologue, it's an opinion.
I'm not going to post the whole thing, just my favourite line.
...so I got frustrated and looked up the word "perfect in the dictionary. You know something, it's ironic, that we're all striving for an idea that comes somewhere between "penguins" and "pinball".
It's not that ironic, just stupid, put that way.
In my dictionary, perfect and all its affiliates come between perfidious- "Treacherous or decietful" and peremptory- "expecting immediate obedience without any discussion."
Is perfect average? Or better than? For that matter, what is better than average?
It's all opinion.
Before I finish, I want to thank a friend of mine who mentioned.. well, dedicated a blog post to me. It was really something, and a smart way to actually make me accept a compliment. I really appreciate it. And until that last paragraph, where you directly addressed me, you'd judged my response perfectly.
Thanks for reading.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Perfect.
I've got a huge decision to make.
It's not that big, but it's absolutely massive.
It's telling someone something that I know they won't think anything of.
Don't you hate when you are building up to something massive, if only to be let down by something so juvenile as a 'meh' response?
I know letting it get to me isn't a good idea.
I've been speaking to my boyfriend about a present, a gift, an offering of words.
I'm relatively sure he doesn't believe it's possible.
When I show him that it is, when I give my gift to him, I hope he'll feel something for it.
But words don't mean much to anyone else but me.
Which is why I don't believe he will.
I'm also meaning to give someone else some words.
But they will either give the juvenile "meh" response, or they themselves will think I am juvenile and obsessive.
I know I need to say them, no matter their response.. But courage is hard to work up.
I have a real fear of that, don't I?
I don't want to be immature, but the only thing that seems to come out of my mouth is dirty jokes.
I don't like being scared of something.
I suppose it's that inevitable want of teenagers, to grow up. Maybe maturity is something adults seek.
To be perfect.
That's how perfect I am.
It's a dream, and that's all it ever will be.
Fitter, happier, more productive,
comfortable,
not drinking too much,
regular exercise at the gym
(3 days a week),
getting on better with your associate employee contemporaries,
at ease,
eating well
(no more microwave dinners and saturated fats),
a patient better driver,
a safer car
(baby smiling in back seat),
sleeping well
(no bad dreams),
no paranoia,
careful to all animals
(never washing spiders down the plughole),
keep in contact with old friends
(enjoy a drink now and then),
will frequently check credit at (moral) bank (hole in the wall),
favors for favors,
fond but not in love,
charity standing orders,
on Sundays ring road supermarket
(no killing moths or putting boiling water on the ants),
car wash
(also on Sundays),
no longer afraid of the dark or midday shadows
nothing so ridiculously teenage and desperate,
nothing so childish - at a better pace,
slower and more calculated,
no chance of escape,
now self-employed,
concerned (but powerless),
an empowered and informed member of society
(pragmatism not idealism),
will not cry in public,
less chance of illness,
tires that grip in the wet
(shot of baby strapped in back seat),
a good memory,
still cries at a good film,
still kisses with saliva,
no longer empty and frantic like a cat tied to a stick,
that's driven into frozen winter shit
(the ability to laugh at weakness),
calm,
fitter,
healthier and more productive
a pig in a cage on antibiotics.
Radiohead.
Thanks for reading.
Brittany.
It's not that big, but it's absolutely massive.
It's telling someone something that I know they won't think anything of.
Don't you hate when you are building up to something massive, if only to be let down by something so juvenile as a 'meh' response?
I know letting it get to me isn't a good idea.
I've been speaking to my boyfriend about a present, a gift, an offering of words.
I'm relatively sure he doesn't believe it's possible.
When I show him that it is, when I give my gift to him, I hope he'll feel something for it.
But words don't mean much to anyone else but me.
Which is why I don't believe he will.
I'm also meaning to give someone else some words.
But they will either give the juvenile "meh" response, or they themselves will think I am juvenile and obsessive.
I know I need to say them, no matter their response.. But courage is hard to work up.
I have a real fear of that, don't I?
I don't want to be immature, but the only thing that seems to come out of my mouth is dirty jokes.
I don't like being scared of something.
I suppose it's that inevitable want of teenagers, to grow up. Maybe maturity is something adults seek.
To be perfect.
That's how perfect I am.
It's a dream, and that's all it ever will be.
Fitter, happier, more productive,
comfortable,
not drinking too much,
regular exercise at the gym
(3 days a week),
getting on better with your associate employee contemporaries,
at ease,
eating well
(no more microwave dinners and saturated fats),
a patient better driver,
a safer car
(baby smiling in back seat),
sleeping well
(no bad dreams),
no paranoia,
careful to all animals
(never washing spiders down the plughole),
keep in contact with old friends
(enjoy a drink now and then),
will frequently check credit at (moral) bank (hole in the wall),
favors for favors,
fond but not in love,
charity standing orders,
on Sundays ring road supermarket
(no killing moths or putting boiling water on the ants),
car wash
(also on Sundays),
no longer afraid of the dark or midday shadows
nothing so ridiculously teenage and desperate,
nothing so childish - at a better pace,
slower and more calculated,
no chance of escape,
now self-employed,
concerned (but powerless),
an empowered and informed member of society
(pragmatism not idealism),
will not cry in public,
less chance of illness,
tires that grip in the wet
(shot of baby strapped in back seat),
a good memory,
still cries at a good film,
still kisses with saliva,
no longer empty and frantic like a cat tied to a stick,
that's driven into frozen winter shit
(the ability to laugh at weakness),
calm,
fitter,
healthier and more productive
a pig in a cage on antibiotics.
Radiohead.
Thanks for reading.
Brittany.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Resolutions
You know what I find interesting?
Those little resolutions people make to themselves, just small ones. Like, "I'll get to the next leaf on the hill before I give up" while cycling.
Or, more appropriate to me.. "I'll just check one blog before I start my homework."
I think if you knew just these resolutions, not even the thoughts of a person, you would gain an incredible amount of insight into that person.
I keep making bigger forms of these resolutions.
"I'll work up the courage to strike up a conversation with him when I finish listening to this song."
"I'll tell her what I really think she should do, right after this week is over."
And then... bigger.
"I will fucking die, there's no way I can get through this."
I meant that last one literally.
Melodramatic attention-seeking teenager, you're probably thinking.
Probably what it should have been.
Probably what it is now, bringing it up again.
I don't know, what are they meant to change? Make us become a better person?
Are we better if we're dead?
No, that's getting deep, and deep is not something I profess to be.
Half of the small resolutions I don't even act upon.
Inability to make decisions. That's what chases people away from me. That's one of the worst qualities to have, and along with a myriad of other bad qualities, it's one I do have.
For some reason, a quote keeps coming to mind from the movie Juno.
"Look, in my opinion, the best thing you can do is find a person who loves you for exactly what you are. Good mood, bad mood, ugly, pretty, handsome, what have you, the right person is still going to think the sun shines out your ass. That's the kind of person that's worth sticking with."
Maybe indecision isn't the best quality. But someone out there must like it.
Maybe I've found that person.
Maybe I haven't, who knows.
I just need someone to turn to.
Starting to feel another bout of something similar to depression, but not quite as severe.
And this one is staying hidden until I write.
Which is a good thing.
'Cause everyone really would hate to know what my worries are.
Thanks for reading.
Brittany.
Those little resolutions people make to themselves, just small ones. Like, "I'll get to the next leaf on the hill before I give up" while cycling.
Or, more appropriate to me.. "I'll just check one blog before I start my homework."
I think if you knew just these resolutions, not even the thoughts of a person, you would gain an incredible amount of insight into that person.
I keep making bigger forms of these resolutions.
"I'll work up the courage to strike up a conversation with him when I finish listening to this song."
"I'll tell her what I really think she should do, right after this week is over."
And then... bigger.
"I will fucking die, there's no way I can get through this."
I meant that last one literally.
Melodramatic attention-seeking teenager, you're probably thinking.
Probably what it should have been.
Probably what it is now, bringing it up again.
I don't know, what are they meant to change? Make us become a better person?
Are we better if we're dead?
No, that's getting deep, and deep is not something I profess to be.
Half of the small resolutions I don't even act upon.
Inability to make decisions. That's what chases people away from me. That's one of the worst qualities to have, and along with a myriad of other bad qualities, it's one I do have.
For some reason, a quote keeps coming to mind from the movie Juno.
"Look, in my opinion, the best thing you can do is find a person who loves you for exactly what you are. Good mood, bad mood, ugly, pretty, handsome, what have you, the right person is still going to think the sun shines out your ass. That's the kind of person that's worth sticking with."
Maybe indecision isn't the best quality. But someone out there must like it.
Maybe I've found that person.
Maybe I haven't, who knows.
I just need someone to turn to.
Starting to feel another bout of something similar to depression, but not quite as severe.
And this one is staying hidden until I write.
Which is a good thing.
'Cause everyone really would hate to know what my worries are.
Thanks for reading.
Brittany.
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