Alone

From childhood’s hour I have not been 


As others were—I have not seen 


As others saw—I could not bring 


My passions from a common spring— 


From the same source I have not taken 


My sorrow—I could not awaken 


My heart to joy at the same tone— 


And all I lov’d—I lov’d alone— 


Then—in my childhood—in the dawn 


Of a most stormy life—was drawn 


From ev’ry depth of good and ill 


The mystery which binds me still— 


From the torrent, or the fountain— 


From the red cliff of the mountain— 


From the sun that ’round me roll’d 


In its autumn tint of gold— 


From the lightning in the sky 


As it pass’d me flying by— 


From the thunder, and the storm— 


And the cloud that took the form 


(When the rest of Heaven was blue) 


Of a demon in my view—




BY EDGAR ALLEN POE

My mum makes it better

things-i-hate-vandalism-lists-irony-lists-repetition-inconsistency

Pet hate. When you mention something you love, and the other person claims that they like it too, but ONLY a certain type. For example, I have a friend who is constantly shutting down foods because her mum makes it better. Like, “Oh I love lasagna! But only the kind my mum makes.” It wouldn’t bother me so much if it didn’t happen ALL THE BLOODY TIME. Just the other day I ordered hash browns on the side of my breakfast. Yum yum yum, nothing beats a delicious hash brown, I thought. And yet ‘Normal’ hash browns gross her out, because her mother’s browns have RUINED her for other ones. Like no, that’s not how potato works; it is literally all good. It’s like pizza – even a bad pizza is still good pizza! IT IS STILL A PARTY IN MY MOUTH!!! Get back into your corner (in your ma’s kitchen).

The curse of RBF

There’s no such thing as being born with resting bitch face. Who ever saw a ‘bitchy’ baby? Sure, there are grumpy babies, and babies that give mad side eye (trust me, I’ve seen it), but you can’t call a baby a bitch. RBF is something you must grow into. And who can say at what age I grew into mine? All I know is that throughout high school, and ever since then, I have been afflicted with the ‘curse of RBF’. 

On numerous occiasions, close friends have revealed that “omg I thought you were such a bitch at first, but you are actually sooo nice” (I’m paraphrasing here but you get the idea). Usually I embrace the bitch face. It’s just another quality on the long list of traits that make up my identity as a unique, tenacious, fiercely indepentant young woman (read: bitch). It helps to guard me against unwanted attentions or conversation. It keeps away the people who haven’t broken through my nutty outer shell to the delicious marshmallow within (is anyone else hungry?).

One thing I HATE, however, is when people I’m partying with, or working with, or just hanging out with, ask me ‘what’s wrong?’ or ‘are you okay?’ when nine times out of ten, there was nothing wrong! I was just being quiet, or thoughtful, or calm. Of course, following the question, there now  WAS something wrong- I’d be angry. For some reason, it flips my cranky switch, and I can’t really explain why. 

The majority of the time this happens, I am absolutely fine; happy even; and maybe the reason the question grinds my gears is because I then feel like a robot- too apparently inhuman for others to read correctly. Of course, I KNOW the question is generally coming from a good place, a place of friendly concern. The thing is, if there WAS something wrong, I’m the sort of person who wouldn’t want to discuss it then and there. I like to process my thoughts and emotions privately, and then if needed, evaluate them with whoever at a later time. You, drawing attention to the fact that I apparently can’t hide my feelings, are making a bad situation worse. 

The fact that it bothers me so much is very confusing, and I suppose it speaks volumes as to what type of person I am. But does it speak of complexity or immaturity? Of my being private or prone to mood swings? Hmmm…

From South Australia to Far North Queensland

Since I moved North, I have noticed a few things about the people up here that differ from back home.

  • Instead of ‘pool’ or ‘school’, they say ‘pewl’ and ‘skewl’. Bathers, or bikinis, are called ‘toggs’, and a third person is often referred to as ‘old mate’. As in, ‘Hey Em, can you pass this to old mate over there?’ 
  • It’s always hot. Even when it’s cold, it’s hot. My roommate with complain about the ‘freezing’ mornings while I still need an air-conditioner to get to sleep. In summer, you need approximately five showers a day, give or take.  
  • The traffic lights take forever to change. Get caught at a red light, expect to be there a while. I’m used to it now, but when I first got here I had some serious impatience induced road-rage.
  • Far fewer coffee snobs than down south. Is it because it’s too hot to drink coffee? Either way, it took me a long time to scope out all the decent coffee spots.
  • Almost everyone has a tattoo, or many. An ink-less person is a rarer sight than an inked one. Me and my cool temporary tattoos I bought online don’t fit in here.   

  

Oh, and there’s one more thing that really gets me about this place. Beaches, beaches everywhere but not a spot to swim.

Yeah, and when it’s not stingers, its crocodiles

She came in like a wrecking ball

I like Miley Cyrus way more now than I ever did when she wasn’t a ‘rebel’. So many people judge her for her clothing choices, dance moves and lifestyle, but she is someone who simply refuses to live by other people’s rules and expectations. If anything, her confidence and unique style make her a role model.

I think she is a funny, crazy, relatable person. She supports so many worthy causes and charities, and has done way more good in the world than I could ever hope to achieve. She may be young, but she certainly isn’t ‘utterly clueless’ like me. Her new public image is proof of this; she may have more ‘haterz’ but she has a shittonne more publicity, fans and $$$$. They should call her wiley Miley hehehe (sorry).

Merhlerrr Cerrruss

Merhlerrr Cerrruss is inspehhhring


Can’t you see it’s we who own the night?
Can’t you see it’s we who ’bout that life?

When my friends informed me of $50 tickets for her ‘Bangerz’ concert, I thought yeah, why not? I didn’t know many of her new songs but I knew the girl could put on a show.

And I was not disappointed.

She entered the stadium by sliding out of her own mouth, which was shown on a giant screen, and left by riding a giant hotdog.
She wore headbands that fans threw on the stage while she sang, and spat on them when she decided they were getting a bit hot (lol).
Vocals were amazing, and she changed costumes about a thousand times… how exhausting.
The backup dancers were awesome, and regularly kitted out in elaborate costumes.
She covered ‘Jolene’ by Dolly Parton and encored with ‘Party in the U.S.A’… it was awesome.

So cheers to you Miley, keep doing yo thang.

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Nightmares and red wine

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Intense dream last night.
I had escaped from a murderer, only to discover a second murderer had killed the first guy, and decided to “finish the job”.

Naturally, I tried to communicate with his past victims to get some assistance (yeah, I don’t know how I got to that conclusion). I closed my eyes, and visualised the world of the dead. I tried to pull a girl (with some sort of ‘mind lasso’) back with me, but ended up getting her pet rat instead (?). I could feel something warm in my hands and when I opened my eyes I was holding the bloody entrails of some creature.

And some lady was standing in front of me repeating the phrase “Mary Maverick, back from the dead” over and over again.
(Later I googled the name. Apparently Mary Maverick is a pioneer of Texas in the 1800s. I live in Australia so Wtf Mary, if you are sending me a message do your damn research).

At this point I thought I woke up. I could see a dark shadow at the end of my bed but when I opened my mouth to speak, I gasped and couldn’t breathe. I tried to move but it felt like something was pressing down on me. There was ringing in my ears, my heart was pounding. I forced myself to calm down, by slowing my gasping breaths and thinking rationally. And then the whole sensation stopped… I am still unsure if this was part of the dream or something else.

I spent the rest of the night in Mum’s bed, woke up late for uni, and ended up skipping my shower and breakfast. The whole experience has taught me not to drink four glasses of red wine before bed.

I guess that’s that

My brother’s last relationship spanded over 6 years, ending over a year ago.

This girl was like an older sister to me during my teen years, and I looked up to her. She helped me get my first job (at a fish and chip shop), went shopping with me, and always gave me boy advice. It sucked when they broke up. They don’t talk anymore, but I had hoped, if enough time had passed, maybe she and I could be friends again. I asked her to meet me for a coffee the other day.

I didn’t tell my brother. He would say that he couldn’t care less if I saw her, but who knows if that’s how he really feels. So I didnt tell him. Is that a betrayal? I don’t even know.

I hadn’t seen her in so long. Her hair is longer, blonder… she is the same but different. Still bubbly but so … mature? She has her life all together.

It was so good to see her but at the same time it highlighted just how much we’ve grown apart. I wish I could still talk to her like a sister, be comfortable around her, but that isn’t the way it is.

I guess that’s how life works sometimes.

Pet names

Animals should have illustrius, noble, old-timey names (prefereably that can be shortened to something cutesy).

I aim to one day name a cat Archimedes. So distinguished and fancy (and can be shortened to Archieeeeeeeee, emphasis on the ‘eeeee’).

Other (awesome) pet names?

– Herbert
– Phillip
– Plato
– Cleopatra
– Frances
– Toulose

 ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤


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It’s stuck in my head

“Will you walk a little faster?” said a whiting to a snail,

“There’s a porpoise close behind us, and he’s treading on my tail.
See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance!
They are waiting on the shingle – will you come and join the dance?
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, will you join the dance?

Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you join the dance?

– Lewis Carroll

Does the lobster quadrille involve twerking?

Does the lobster quadrille involve twerking?