adult life.

I may or may not be back, writing again. This time it'll be less whingy-exam-time-teenager and more like the time I worked for a website but got fired because my boyfriend at the time was a giant boring chasm of creativity, or because I got too distracted watching people auto-tune the news on YouTube. One of those.

I'm kinda just going to throw this blog at the wall and see if it sticks.

To prove that I'm an adult now, and therefore capable of exploring subject matter outside high school and artistic pictures of nipples I shall allow you to be privy to the deep, adult conversations I have with my boyfriend who, as I write this is asleep in a book with his arms crossed.

Before I write this, you should understand that he has a spooky, kid-from-the-shining-like insight into my mind, he knows when I'm too afraid to poop in other peoples houses, he knows when I'm going to eat all the caramel biscuits, and he has the uncanny ability to pick out exactly what I'm laughing at.

It begins here;

Me: *twitching* baaaaaaaayyyyyybeeeeeee, I need to peeeee!

Boyfriend: So? Go pee.

Me: I can't. Fred is here and I don't want to put pants on. (Fred is our room mate)

...

...

Can I pee in the bed?

Boyfriend: No. *trying to find a trace of humor in my expression* Noooooo. NO.

Me: I'll even go on my side. (because relationships are all about compromise, amirite?)

Here he ignored me for a while and when I eventually realized that I couldn't muster up the cruelty to nag him to carry me I turned back to my blogs.

After about five minutes of reading I was doing that silent sort of giggle that isn't supposed to disrupt anyone but shakes the whole bed and ends up in making sputtering snicker noises akin to a pig having rough sex with a horse.

Boyfriend: *barely glancing at the page* Are you laughing because somebody mentioned diarrhea?

There is really no limit to your entertainment about that, is there?

Me: *giggling* Its like the bacon of my humor (I often wonder if death is my only limit when it comes to the consumption of bacon). I could start a blog though...Would you read it?

Boyfriend: (trying to get back to his book) Maybe. I don't know. *sigh*

Me: I could call it "Why diarrhea is the bacon of my humor".

(after a few minutes of my obligingly staring at him in hopes of encouragement, and him patiently reading his book and clearly wishing I would just let it go my ADHD monster* got the better of me)

*trying to bring forth some sort of response*

We wouldn't be having this conversation if you let me pee in the bed!

After five solid minutes of twitching, sighing, tweeting and wriggling my feet I finally succumbed to nature, and the overall wish that when I grow old I will not be completely incontinent and I gracefully made my way to the loo. Because putting your pants on backwards and sniping 'FINE. Have it your way.' is graceful, in my world.

*I'm not being facetious, I really do have a behavioral disorder.

predictable.

my life has become clean,
cut with sharp edges,
everything in bright blue, light, cold and immaculate.

I step lightly on my feet, almost dancing,
knowing that if I make the slightest tremour I'll feel enourmous and swollen,
unable to focus my thoughts until I spend a solid hour pedalling away on the excerbike.

I pause my audiobook, throw down tablets for my headache,
whip up a coffee, microwave set for two minutes,
I use this two minutes to refill my waterbottle, stick it in the fridge,
pee, walk back to the microwave with exactly three seconds left.

Bring my coffee back to the room, knowing that by one ciggarette, it will have cooled to my exact temperature of preference.
sit on my bed, write on paragraph of english practice, then check my twitter,
another, check my facebook, rinse my mug, repeat coffee process.
another, post on my twitter, rinse my mug, drink the water,
another, refill the bottle, piss, more coffee, check my myspace.

and the whole time, you know I'm not really into it.
I love keeping myself busy with these things,
love exactness, the precise manner of being clean,
being cold, putting everything in order, falling into place, following my path.
it's only the tiny things I can control.

I write this blog and the microwave is beepbeepbeeping away because I've gotten distracted,
writing this here blog,
oh well.
my mind has even fallen into a pattern
school-boy-school-boy.
it's sick, and I feel like a child, but I could care less.

I'm happy.

silver spoons.

So here's me.
this weekend, I'll be holed up in my room,
I've already had enough coffee to fuel a small army, and I'm on day 3 of a headache that wont quit.
I had to take a break from writing up Frankenstein and Blade Runner notes,
I've two english exams next week, then two weeks of holiday...gooodness.


So, anyway, I set myself up, took a nice shower, threw on an audiobook, got warm,
started typing like a motherfucker, and I suddenly became amazed at how annyed I was with American spell check.
Yeah, so you'll piss me off and put that antagonising red squiggly line that points out what a literary fuckup you are under any word I use the "u" or "s" that is standard in EVERY OTHER ENGLISH SPEAKING COUNTRY IN THE WORLD, but when I write "Christ" with a lower case "c" you get all up in my grill and autocorrect me, something that wouldn't piss me off half as much if it actually recognised any other name.
What, you know "Christ" but you don't know "Bukowski"?
Then maybe I don't want your fucking help.

Around this time I find myself furiously taptaptapping away at the keyboard, right-clicking and correcting my "mistakes" and I have no problem with this until I find myself very quietly calling spellcheck the c-word and muttering "fuck you, America" under my breath, and I think hey, maybe it's time to take a break.

I liked the idea of keeping my blog as a regular thing, so I decided to post something on here, albeit after telling twitter what grinds my gears, so I went on to photobucket to look for an image to throw up here for the virtually needy, and I started finding all these photos from years ago, remembering the exact day that I took the picture, what was happening, what had happened recently, occured to me it might be a little odd.

Thinking about it, it might be kind of interesting to put that up here, for rememberance sake, because thinking about those pictures I was hit by a big load of clarity, and it was one of those moments, you know, where time totally changes, because I feel like no time has passed at all, and while I know I've learnt a lot from everything that happened way back when, I feel like there's been no time in between.
I know its only been three or four years but there are all these monumental events, that shouldn't even be real memories yet and their significance has become inescapable.
I'm finishing school this year.
I'm in year 12, I've completed 60% of my HSC, and next year, I'll be working and learning German, so that in 2011 I can move to Munich and start the 8 months that will, without a doubt, be some of the best memories of my whole life.
I've already decided, that despite my best efforts, I'm still a fuckup, thats just a part of who I am, always will be - not saying this is going to prevent me from kicking more ass than you can poke a stick at, but hey - and because of this, I probably won't get a good HSC or UAI mark, and get in to Melbourne.
I want to study journalism and political science, but I have absolutely no chance of getting in there as anything but a mature age student, I'll be travelling and doing LIFE SHIT.

Anyway, thats where I am, it's 2009, I'm sixteen, still practically a baby, and I'm nearly out in the big kid world for good.
And it feels like I've been shot out of some kind of time machine/ cannon, into right now from four years ago when I was 13 and stayed in my room for two weeks when I got grounded for...we'll just call it my moral ineptitude.
Everything is totally different, may as well be in a parallell universe.

I know, growing up.

I don't really sleep anymore, so much as I lie in the dark listening to audiobooks and wait to sleep, but when I'm doing that I spend a lot of time wondering what I'm going to remember of year 11 and 12, freshwater, my time with Wheals, my time with my parents, time with Cristin and Leish, new friends I've made, and the constant stream of times with Amelia, our friendship comes up to 11 years by now.
I'm starting to get sweet little memories from year 10, St. Lukes, all that kind of thing, which suprises me, really, because I was pretty much just drunk all the time.
One memory that I really love is my week in brisbane, the neat little hotel with the ensuite bathroom, waking up at one every day, reading Irvine Welsh, and Benjamin Nugent, lying in the bed that took up most of the immaculate space to a cold and empty apartment that spelled like coffee, overlooking a park and a lake, watching all the people do a whole lot of nothing, then going out to the nice reastaurant across the road, drinking appletinis and eating pretentious dinners, drinking bottles of shitty white wine with my family and stumbling down to see if we couldn't get a video from the convenience store.

I wonder if there's a clip show of the top 10 "get off my lawn" scenes on youtube...

Right now my hair is wet, and the last thing I said was "I don't care", I have to pee and I'm cold and sick and not feeling the slightest bit productive, but I don't feel tired either.
Imagine how satisfied I'll feel in the exam, smug with how full of imformation my usually void brain has become....

but probably not.

I feel bad for not being able to attend zinefest with Leishy today, and I did so want to go. I'm starting to feel selfish for wasting my time here, so I'll wrap it up with a little something from the future.

I'm looking forward to some time on the excercise bike, my two days sleeping in the holidays, the exams being over, my next visit from wonderboy, Pinney's visit to take my picture, my sweet escape suprise roadtrip with Silas, emaciation, sleep, schoolies for two weeks at nan tien temple, meditating, sleeping, drinking tea and shit all else.

So here's me going back to study, I'm just doing my job here.