wishing for
# some kind of hope
# some kind of light
# something that will make me feel alright
# someone with hope
# someone who’s bright
# someone who will make me smile. tonight.
# a shooting star that will light up my world
# and the happiness that could unfold
soundtrack: stephen michael; tell me why // thoughts: are as follows
i am a communist. not to the point that i’d join a party or anything, because i’m also a realist and i know communism in action is bullshit. but in theory, i believe that if there weren’t any stupid eurocentric capitalist societies where the international companies control everything, the world would be a better place.
communism had a problem; the party became the elite. i envision a world where the elite is only a fraction of a living standard scale above the working class, because i know that human nature means people are going to want to be higher up eventually. but why does being better have to mean pulling others down? i know everything is relative and all but couldn’t everyone get better together? how can we call ourselves equals when the rich get richer and the poor get poorer?
i believe that people can pass up opportunities, but there are seriously people who don’t have any opportunities because of their environment and nurture. lack of education isn’t anyone’s fault when they don’t want it, but it’s someone’s fault if they can’t have it. i mean seriously, capitalists need to get a social conscience instead of another holiday house. if you pay me, i’ll give you mine. (joke. kinda)
i know the world is never going to be perfect, and all that shit, but i don’t think the multi billionaires realise just how much they could be doing. they could still be sitting in their penthouse with their shiny jaguar parked downstairs and help starving people. more starving people. but they don’t care, because they’ve worked hard to get there and now they want to live it all up. it’s just that they had the opportunity to work for it, while many others don’t. and even if they don’t want to give stuff away for free, they could provide that opportunity for others. not by writing a motivational book and not by giving a lecture on how to invest. by creating something worth more than that. they just have to get off their self centred arse and wonder what it’s like to not have their solid brick walled house with glass window panes and closable doors.
god, if i ever find that rich guy, i’m going to make him care. because you don’t deserve to have money if you’re just going to sit on your leather couch and watch it grow.
soundtrack: my new rnb // thoughts: of a fantasy world
inspired was fucking awesome. apart from the obvious highlight of the night (shoutout to all my textiles buddies, you were all awesomely hot) the drama performances and dance were pretty awesome too! i’m so glad this was our last year. it was definitely a night to remember.
despite a few technological hiccups, which everyone quickly blamed the blackout for, the show eventually got running. we were all a little shocked at the winners of the challenge, but as it was before the major works, the anticipation overrode all feelings of dissatisfaction, and we all looked on with excitement. everyone was beautiful. so much so that people watching cried. we were all so proud to have a friend up there on stage, showcasing their awesome major work. i’m still euphoric, even in this aftermath.
even though i would have liked to continue textiles, i realise that it isn’t as easy as just making a dress/thing. after watching countless breakdowns and hearing people whine about it week after week, i realise the history extension major work i chose was probably more suited to my lethargic personality. even after all the stress and pain, i think everyone can say that overall it was worth it.
so tonight, i’ll end by saying something sentimental. i now fully believe that although this year will be stressful, troublesome, tiring and overall hectic, it will be our best. even though all of us look forward to uni, and all the freedom it brings, our last year in highschool will still be one of the most enjoyable, simply because the best moments far outweigh the worst. so cherish, guys. you can only have it for a moment.
soundtrack: ross copperman; all she wrote // thoughts: that girl’s just like me
sydney uni is pretty cool. lecturers are pretty funny. shoes are pretty awesome. sales are very awesome. life is not very awesome. extension history major work is not awesome. maths is not awesome but a little awesomer than major projects. maths homework is gay. stupid people are gay. people are stupid. i am stupid. i am tired. i am…
i am…
cold and dark. soft and hard.
each touch leaves an imprint; each imprint leaves a scar.
broken to be mended, but never the same.
the smooth lines from the beginning are all for a game.
and i don’t seem to learn when i get stepped on,
again and again.
etch in me words, names, memories,
i’ll never forget.
until i’m replaced
but there’s never regret.
what am i?
facts and conclusions from musings of a procrastinating mind
# we are not desensitised to things because of the internet; we’re more learned
# blogging makes me happy, maths does not; therefore i should blog more and do maths less?
# my ideal job is a novel critic, but no one wants to hear my biased bullshit, so i’ll just have to settle for something else
# people who can draw are extremely interesting to me
# the enigmatic guy isn’t as appealing anymore
# i never get period pain
# my parents donated $500 out of their goodwill to earthquake victims
# brave new world has a perfect society; i don’t understand why people call it a dystopic novel
# if everyone was happy, what would happy be?
# i dance in the shower to the music i hear in my mind
# i am going to fail my maths exam if i don’t go and study now
soundtrack: is on replay // thoughts: keep running in circles
i live in dread of what tomorrow brings.
actually, according to bladerunner (or my english teacher’s interpretation of it), we all live in dread of what tomorrow brings. the uncertainty of life fucks with us all; we are but puny humans in a world which does not need us. it is terrible not to be needed, especially by something you need so much. the constant questions we are left to ponder will never find what we deem to be a satisfactory answer, and we remain drifiting through these different types of confusion for the rest of our lives.
that is, of course, unless you’re unbelievably stupid.
so today, admist all my casual wonderings came a few new questions. the normal questions have all been asked; what is the meaning of life? what happens when we die? will eating this make me fat? etc. i have advanced into a new era. my big question is this: do you grow hair when you’re in a coma? (god, that was major bathos. (lol pun))
maybe, because there is someone that can answer my question, it does not match with the great puzzles of humanity, but it puzzles me nevertheless. yet the insignificance of such a simple question is overwhelmed by all the current events which surround us; the events the media deem newsworthy and report to us; things such as the earthquake.
and although i acknowledge that there are extremely sad things happening on this planet we share, my human instinct can’t help but take over and view these people as completely insignificant in the light of what will happen to my selfish being within the next few days. i have no time nor emotion to spare for others with a fate so horrific compared to my own. but i have time sufficient to write a blog.
re-evaluation of values and character?
maybe. but not yet.
soundtrack: why not me; varsity // thoughts: in quite a daze
should i stay, should i go; should’ve asked, don’t wanna know … who are you thinkin` about; shouldn’t kiss, shouldn’t tell; shoulodn’t leave without farewell … what were you thinkin` about?
a tim tam packet has nine tim tams, not ten. i know this because all nine are sitting in my stomach now, waiting to be digested. along with another half packet of chicken crimpy shapes i ate. i also ate lunch and dinner, so the next time you see me don’t be surprised if i’m a million times fatter.
because you’re stuck in my head like my favourite song, you put the scene on pause, it still plays on … it’s chapter three, it’s hard to breathe; the words are slowly fading … without you here, i get nowhere
my mind is quite numb at the moment because i watched this movie called wristcutters; a love story. i think the movie is trying to tell people not to kill themselves, but after watching it i think i’ve leaned that way a little bit more. it’s one of those movies that make you think, i think. i hated the ending though, because the main character who once believed he had nothing to live for gets lucky. love saves the day, and everyone gets a second chance. hate it, hate it, hate it.
could’ve been, could’ve had; how could you do that and not look back … you couldn’t wait, you couldn’t breathe; you couldn’t be sharing the same dreams with me
how come emo-ness is always associated with love now? why can’t someone be unhappy with their life because of something else? and why do those who are lucky enough to experience love make it all one big emo story?
what is it that keeps me hanging on to every word you say; what is it that keeps me holding on to you?
but hey, who am i to talk?
soundtrack: six whole days; matt palmer // thoughts: still spinning
nothing ever goes according to plan. i planned to write a draft major work today. shouldn’t have expected so much. damn.
i was reading some people’s blogs about me today, which is kind of weird. i mean, sometimes i write about people too, but it’s never explicit. i don’t know if writing stuff about a person explicitly on the net is any better than hinting about who they are when you write about them and making it a mystery to the rest of the world. personally i never get the extremely subtle hints people aim at me, so maybe it’s hypocritical to expect the same of those who read my writing? is it a bad time to say that most of my writing has some meaning, some direction? maybe so.
however, sometimes it’s interesting to read about yourself, not in a conceited way, but like knowing what people think is good. if they think you’re awesome, be flattered. if they don’t, it’s just a blog. we’re only human.
soundtrack: the chewing of watermelon // thoughts: lyrics of a song i can’t remember
there’s this woman at my bus stop that i see every sunday if i happen to go home early. she sits on the wooden bench and screams unintelligible words so passionately that the people sitting beside her get up to wait for their bus. but that may also be because she smells (i wouldn’t know, i never sit down). even the tired old people let her have her own bench. she never catches a bus, just sits there, sometimes yelling at her own reflection through the bottleshop window, sometimes smoking and yelling at the people around her.
the only time i’ve understood the words she screams through my earphones is when she was counting. six-hundred-and-fourty-four, six-hundred-and-fourty-five, six-hundred-and-fourty-six… by the time i got on my bus it was eight-hundred-and-twenty-three.
no one understands.
i look at her, unnerved sometimes, but i don’t shake my head and walk away like the others do. i just wonder how she got that way, and what she believes she’s saying. maybe she’s telling us the world will end in a few months, but no one will believe her because she’s just some crazy woman from the street. and while the suits and ties look down upon her ragged appearance and her evidently horrendous life, a silly school girl tries to trace the different paths between what they name as success, and what the world regards as failure.
but then the bus comes, and it’s all forgotten.
