It's amazing what you can do with photoshop. This was a blurry, wonky snap before.

I've developed an intense interest into Photoshop these holidays. ha, thought don't let these grand words give you the impression i have progressed anymore than the amateur stage.

My latest creation.

HAHA

Dumbledore!!!

How proud i am of the coarse pads on my left hand finger tips. I'm learning guitar - much to my sisters annoyance, because i'm using her electric. Well, it's not like she's played it in 5 years. I've taught myself 'That's Amore' and 'Sweet Home California'. Tis fun fun. I'm not really progressing...it's so annoying...no matter how many times i play the tunes, i always seem to make the same mistakes.
Guitar sounds so good with drums though...listening to 'stairway to heaven' at the moment.
oh yeah. Merry Christmas. Forgot.
Nanna and Gramps have spent the day with us. Haven't really done much...sat and talked about the good old days, how fast technology progresses and the oppression of women in the Middle East. An assortment of matter, if anything. Took a refreshing walk to the lake nearby, then came home for the Christmas turkey.
haha, it was so funny...we downloaded the photos from their camera on this computer. During the walk, they had lended it to me, so i could take some shots of my own. We were flicking through them, and when we reached one of mine Nanna exclaimed
'good grief, i don't know what i was trying to get there'.
hilarious. is it really that bad?
yeah...yeah i guess it is.

HAHAHAAaaaa....I'm watching this clip 'sweet child o mine' by Guns and Roses on youtube.com. Song's alright, but the singer's dancing style is only marginally better than my own.

I wish there were some way to get drunk without all the nasty side effects.
i.e. Minus the
1. hangover the next morning
2. the embarrassing antics and confessions
3. the loss of brain cells and deterioration of the liver
4. the lack of co-ordination, reflexes
5. the slurred speech and the odourous breath
6. potential of death
Cause i think i'd like the sensation. Same with drugs. Which is why i never intend to either drink or take drugs. Hah, when it all boils down to it, perhaps the crux of my abstinence decision lies in the fact i simply would not trust myself with either. You know, you sip some wine from your pater's glass one night, and the next night you're singing 'row row row your boat' down in the gutter, slogging down another Guinness, getting totally wasted together with the midget from the circus who was fired because he wasn't freakish enough, while passers by purse their lips and drag their curious children to the other side of the road.
Snicker.

Following a strange European tradition, my family open their presents on the evening of Christmas Eve. Weird huh?
We've just completed the unwrapping, the many gasps of delight- feigned or otherwise - it's sometimes hard to tell. The occasion was made rather uncomfortable however, as we had two alien onlookers. Haha. Alien. Not really. They are kin, after all. My grandparents that is. Haven't seen them in 15 years or so (gosh, i keep saying that to everyone. It bugs me that i have to keep repeating myself- i'm not annoyed at others for asking, but just humiliated that, to those that have heard it before, it seems as though i'm intentionally painting myself out to be some poor neglected child. Scrounging some grey fame, some cheap pity). What can I say? One can't expect our hearts to beat the same tune when the imagined becomes the eye to eye physical. I certainly did not expect that, i can tell you. They're all right, i suppose. Gramps is sweet, with his strong lower london accent. Strands of white hair are combed over his forehead. WHen he laughs, his squashed face creases with merriment, and turns an alarming red. He makes me smile. Nanna is a very sharp lady; remarking on the cleanliness of every room (at least it had a jocund seasoning), and going into detail when recounting her travels. She's an apt conversationalist, with a broad knowledge of the particular, and a surprisingly modern sense of humour. I have no idea what to say to them though, or whether i'm expected to be a full time entertainer. Obviously, if that expectation exists, i am flouting presently. I can hear their voices seeping through the crack in the door.
However, it seems that i am not alone in my social uneasiness. There are sometimes times when conversation dries up, and we cast our eyes with sudden interest upon various items of furniture, and give that sigh that intends to say 'well, isn't this nice', but really means 'good grief, am i really resorting to this noisy expiration of breath just to fill a gap?'
Well, thank god for Missy i suppose. When the party experiences such a hiatus in entertaining exchange, we resort to observing the pooch. It's so strange- i don't pay her that much attention usually (what a cruel owner i know); but when other people are around, she suddenly becomes an object brimmed with interest. Nanna herself admits she is no animal lover, but for minutes at the time we have examined her foolish antics, with persiflage to heighten the illusion of ease.
pah says i.
Anyhoo, let us, dear reader, redirect this train of thought to station one. Opening the presents. Since nana and gramps are poms, they open their prezzies tomorrow. Thus, for perhaps half an hour, they watched with stretched smiles (mouth parted slightly) as we opened present after present. I felt so damn spoilt and selfish- particularly because Amy bought the family so many. I couldn't help myself fabricating some future scene of the two back in England, with Nanna exclaiming on the event sipping English Breakfast tea, with puckered lips and eyebrows struggling to reach heaven.
Well, i did tell you i was a grinch didn't i? I do love the gifts received though. My own sushi making kit, a new watch, books, a lavendar top, a watercolour book...
I wish they wouldn't spend so much on me. You know, i would gladly forgo my birthday. I don't like having a day to myself. I don't like the attention. eep.
I used to expect so much from such momentous days when i was little. You know, i'd wake up, invigorated from the promised magic of the day. I believed that there was something that set those days apart- everything was different then; i was invincible to all the trials and sufferings of the other days of the year. I recognise now that, well, frankly, there is no difference. It's just another day really. Sure, people make an effort to be more amiable, and your material status is heighted...but...i can't seem to get excited anymore. In fact, i think part of me attempts to stifle any thrill that may rise up from the depths, just to allay disappointment. That was the one bruising downside to my childhood optimism and amazing capacity for hope, my imaginitive readiness (yes, my dears, the great gatsby tweaked). If something went wrong...not according to the opal plan...i'd be so crushed. I remember on one of my parties, when i was about 6, and no one wanted to play with me at the Fun Factory. Amidst the rainbow plastic balls, the mini-punch bags and the sweaty foam, i snivelled like a hedgehog with a fly up it's nose.

Thinking about thinking about thinking can make your brain feel as though it were a small peanut that somehow lodged itself between Goliath's toes. In fact, the strain of attempting to eke an answer out of infinity ultimately makes one give up on cogitating altogether, and instead usher themselves gently to the plush mind sofa of oblivion. Perhaps the subconscious may stir so much as to recollect a dim old ditty and work its rusty tune by contraction and manipulation of the erstwhile philosopher's vocal chords, but mostly, fixing vacant eyes upon a spot of grime on the window pane will is the only symptom of such a state.

So. Christmas is coming. Haha, jolly, jolly, merry, hee hee, look out there's a fatal missile of christmas pudding at 2 o'clock, happy birthday jesus, we three kings, stuff a musty sock in that dastardly carollers mouth would you and here's a broom to sweep them off the porch, and here's a banana if things get nasty, ho ho, jolly, merry...merry.....
Nope. It's impossible. I can't get into the Christmas spirit. It kind of rebounds off me. The intensity of the exposure or even the length to that gay atmosphere has little effect.

Little did Kate know that it was not her own oppressive and saturnine demeanour that was the root of this perverse attitude towards the momentous annual event. Little did she know what she inherited with the house migration; the creatures unseen and unfelt that lurked in the recessions of her room, their long fingers groping out in the deep of night, searching, searching to satisfy their selfish hearts. Not many people in this world know of whom or what i speak of. In this commercialised world, Christmas connotations must, for the sake of the bliss of the public and the expensive cars of the media men, be saccharine and mirthful. The legends of Santa Claus and his reindeer are thus propagated, the innocent traditions held, the pleasing symbols of candy canes and large golden bells, of holly and mistletoe, strewn about most the western world. Strewn like a chicken farmer would scatter pellets to his poultry, whilst hiding the silver knife that would in a day, a month, a year, rest on their scrawny throats and deprive them of the happiness and pain life has to offer. Perhaps it is a good thing that so many are nescient of those-which-have-yet-to-be-named. If awareness of their presence spread, the few informed scientists (who spend their nights in a cardboard box with a lighter and a potplant for company) have predicted that which can only be termed an apocalypse of spirit. No more taking snaps of little Johnny's eyes expanding to the size of crop circles as he tears open his new train set. No more warm smiles floating about in warm candlelight, which set the scene to a rosy blush. No more Christmas trees toppling over with the hundreds of tacky ornaments the children worked so hard and stickily at. Instead, families would spent the December month huddled up in a cardboard box with only a lighter and a potplant for company, breathing harshly, and gaping with unveileved terror at the very thought of those fingers...
They are called Scrooges minions.
It is of great misfortune to me that i am well-read in this area. That i had not gone to that library in Nabu, or eaten that chocolate eclair, so that i would not have to stoop to pick up the wrapper that had fallen from my hand; and thus discovered the trapdoor beneath the persian rug. That i had taken heed of the words
'IF YOU OPEN THIS TRAPDOOR, YOU WILL BE HOMELESS, FRIENDLESS, SPIRITLESS, ANEMIC, ALLERGIC TO SHELLFISH AND GOTHIC ARCHITECTURE FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE.'
That i had not seen that shelf, fondled that book, let that spine open, and turn that page. That i had not read those words. And many 'that i had not's besides', i would have been a lucky man; boring perhaps, but still lucky. Instead, it is now my duty to research these fiends, night and day, until my eyelids are cracked, my bones are weary and my half-trained cannibal, Cornish Pasty, is starting to throw worrying side glances in my direction.
But now, my research is over, my findings are complete, and i can finally rest in the bosom of normal life. Here is my lifes research, and doom:

SCROOGES MINIONS:
scientific name: joyus diminishus

Size: Up to your knee
Weight: Varies upon distribution and abundance of humans
Location: Inhabits every country on the planet earth. Resides within bed chambers, in the cavities and corners and nooks and crannies of the room.
Appearance in Sunlight: none
Appearance at night: Humanoid in appearance. Their skin is deathly grey, as though bruised from a thousands wollops. Their heads are tiny, as they have no eyes at all. Two slit like nostrils occupy the region where the eyebrows should be, and below is the stuff of nightmares; a mouth, stretched eternally wide the lips sliding inwards over gums like a crude immitation of an old man without his false teeth. And long, long, fingers.
Occupation: They come at night. They come silently. They caress your throat, your hair, your closed eyelids. And drain the Christmas spirit out of you.

Beware, my friends, beware. And for pity's sake, do not let their vile hands grope towards that thrum of life at Christmas!

It's Amy's Party! Like...right now.
I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, 'what is kate doing cramped up in her little study while the moths outside flitter and flutter and flirt. Why, that kate is the life and soul of the party! It's not Jesus that's Lord of the Dance, it's Kate!'
*snort* Or not. No, i trust you will be able to understand without my saying why exactly i dressed up in the "Time Travel" theme (hippy- long socks and white ribbon round the head. The effort i put into some things, you know, it's phenomenal) and yet i won't bare my face to the 18 year olds outside.
The evening flows out a flurry of sounds; the screech of some poor soul who's mother was probably a banshee; the deep guffaw of a guy who's been hit on the head one too many times...
Nah, i'm just exaggerating. They sound like they're having fun, and i'm so happy for amy for that. I hope she'll have a blast tonight. Her big 18th. blimey.
Well, i'll be sure to update you in the event that
a) someone gets rip roaring drunk and mistakes the little elm for a hot latino girl
b) 108 people gatecrash and we get to go on Channel 9's 60 minutes to complain about the plague of teenage hooligans
c) we find suspicious white powder on the bathroom sink tomorrow morning

Two hours later...

No, nothings happened. I'm just lonely. It's strange...i only get lonely when other people are around. I feel so full of curiousity at the moment. The atmosphere is tingling. I wish i could just look on at the whole scene, and yet no one would be able to see me. Use my invisibility cloak. Maybe that sounds a little creepy...but still, i find humans the most fascinating creatures to observe...their methods of travel and intraspecific communication...their intriguing courtship practices...haha.
I feel a little guilty though; the neighbours must be shaking their fists at us through their stained glass windows. The musics pumping so loud, i can feel it reverberating through my chair. Gosh, Kate! Quite worrying about your neighbourhood reputation. Why should it matter? You never even communicated once with your old neighbours! Hell, i reckon you're going to get a pretty good reputation as a stoic unsociable all by your lonesome. So. Let them eat cake.

I'm all dried up for talk. *heaves a sigh* Guess it's back to crosswords.
What a sad, sad person i am.

I just had the biggest scare. Slumping in the doorway after my biology exam, i picked up the cat food to give Tiggs and Jazzi their munch'ems. Except...
"Mum. Where's Tiggs."
Normally he's scampering about and mewling piteously come four o'clock. It was quarter past. Jazzi twined herself around my legs. But no Tiggs. Mum had to dash off to pick up dad from an appointment. While she was gone, i wandered round the house calling out. After about 4 minutes, i gave myself up to despair, and graphic images of a patch of white and orange fur on the side of the road wouldn't stop creeping into my head. With the whole house move i thought he'd ambled off in search of familiar surroundings. It seemed even more unfair because the same thing had happened only a week ago; Missy had escaped during the night; luckily we found her. As i do in almost all dire situations, i - heathen that i am - made a grovelling supplication to 'God'. You know; bargaining with him; 'hey man, you let me find my tiggs, you may have got yourself another partial follower.' Although, of course, my entreaty was perhaps less light-hearted than the above sentence. I stumbled around tearily searching high and low for that dastardly feline. When the parents returned some 15 minutes later, they joined my search, although, unlike me, did not dissolve. Blimey, i am so damn weak. I think that's my fatal flaw, well, one of them anyway. I give in too easily. Cause after about 10 minutes of futile searching, we were out in the shed, and dad said
"i hear him". So did i. Oh blessed meowl!
Eventually we found him. He had been locked in the garage, and he was sitting on the spare tire under my dad's company car. My tiggs!

Well. Now i know cats can be more stressful than exams. I think there's a moral in that.

explosives in

You know, i was just thinking *the crowd gasps*
Isn't it [to discover the adjective, see cryptic below] how us young'ns aren't permitted to EVER use colloquials in our writing? Don't get me wrong; i am not advocating essays along the lines of 'Gatsby is a cool dude'. But if the odd informal is interspersed amongst grandiloquence, it kind of brings the whole piece of writing down to earth. It's like the writer is saying, yes, i can communicate in a complex style, but i don't want to sound too stuffy or up myself, so here's an axiom for you. My hypothesis:
By inserting the odd informal phrase or word to a formal essay gives the piece variety, interest and makes it highly accessible to the reader.

Cryptic for the adjective above....

Sounds like an explosive in a type of frog is monstrous.
OR
The yeti is detestable.
[look to the end of post for answer]

dum dee dum
FILLER
FILLER
FILLER
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FILLER
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FILLER
FILLER
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ANWER: abominable.
(an explosive: a bomb; in a type of frog: a BULL frog)
(also, the abominable snowman= yeti)

The Scientist operates on Harry Potter and a Bacteria's Flagella

Three down! Four to go!
egh.
Oh how coincidental! Coldplay's The Scientist is playing right now...

Nobody said it was easy [well...i guess they kind of did]
No one ever said it would be this hard...[i like the shift from 'nobody' to 'no one'. Adds interest]
oh take me back to the start...[of the year]

One can pretty much align themselves with any trace of melancholy during such times. But i shall not dwell in this grey little closet...(the closet is metaphorical by the way. I'm not actually shut in a closet right now. That would be weird, and i dissuade such a practice to all those chronic closet-dwellers out there)

Instead, i shall revel in the fruits of my glory! No, i'm not talking about exams (a shudder runs through her). No indeed. Instead, i wish to bring to your attention a certain achievement of mine; something i have been struggling with for nigh on 8 years.
I have finally persuaded my father to read Harry Potter.
*does a jig* :) :)
Enter the portal to yesterday.....*time warp*
Kate: "So. What have you done today dad?"
Dad (grimaces, with his fractured ankle resting on a pillow): nothing.
Kate: well. It just so happens i have a job for you. I believe it shall achieve mutual satisfaction.
She stalks off with a very smug expression on her face.
Dad (nervously): oh yes? (waits) what's that behind your back?
Kate brings The Philosopher's Stone forward with a flourish.
Kate: You have no excuse now!
Dad limps away hurriedly,
Kate: You can run but you can't hide!!! You have to!!!

Hah! He's HALFWAY THROUGH already.

I know, i know. String me up on a cross and burn me/whip me with a giant bacteria's flagella/bonk me on the head repeatedly with a crusty sponge. (i'd prefer the sponge. just so's you know).
I should be studying right now. Not even halfway through. But this wave of apathy has percolated my very being...the pen weighs heavily in my hand...

Breathe. Just breathe. In out. It ain't that hard. You are a functioning organism; every creature under the sun can respirate. Even plants, although they do it through tiny pores on the underside of their leaves called stomata, and oxygen also enters through loosely packed cells in their stems, called lenticels. Hey hey!

pah. "oh that this too too sullied flesh would melt, thaw and resolve itself in a dew." "It cannot be that i am pigeon-livered and lack gall to make [this lit study go away] or ere this i should ha [dunnit.]" I am sitting in teh library right now and 'how all occasions to inform against me', as i see me fellow tortured year 11's revising studiously. "who breaks my pate across, pluck my beard [hmm...] and blows it in my face, tweaks me by the nose?...Sounds i should take it!'

Ah yes. I share the melancholic spirit of Hamlet, for my will and motivation has died, and it's faithful partner, sense, has entered a foul relationship with a 'bloody bawdy villian. Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain! (otherwise known as lethargy, in my case)
And yes! I share his vice! Procrastination! Although, where he is overly scrupulous, paralysed in between two morally dubious paths, i am merely lazy.
hum. That indeed takes the heart out of the theory that i, like him, am a tragic hero; a soul unfit to bear the burden thrust upon it.

Oh! I love Horatio!
"I am more an antique roman than dane
Here's yet some liquor left"

Yet, despite my partiality, he doesn't really do much does he? His role begins when the play ends. Although, i hurriedly add, i certainly wouldn't write him out of the script. He is the essential couterbalance to the brooding and sordid atmosphere which soaks the play; he is the only one who resists corruption, the sole survivor at the end after Denmark has been 'purged' from its disease. And Hamlet finds a true and noble friend and listener in him. You know, someone to talk to. He can't talk to himself all the time. Horatio helpfully fills in the gaps with 'even so my Lord' and 'yes my lord'. While it IS true that his good chum informed him in the very first act of the apparition of the ghost his father, i'm sure one of the guards could have done so, perhaps Bernardo, just the same.

hum.
no, literally, hum. The world is too silent.

Sitting in this new study is rather pleasant. It looks out into the garden; well, actually my view is dominated by two rather Braquian looking sheds, but there are a few trees here and there to make this vista more organic. So i'm happy. Oh! and two little birds just swooped by. One lands on a overhanging branch, and cocks its head this way and that. How picturesque.

While at this moment, my writing would belie an innate contentedness, content, by dear bloggie is pretty much the last emotion i'm experiencing. The relief of completing yesterdays exam has long worn away, and is replaced by the weighty realisation that it sure ain't over yet. This course has more hurdles, this path has more annoying little brambles that we are forced to step on; we have yet more circles of hell to pass through before we can reach the heaven of holidays. No! Must refrain from fantasizing!

So. Lit study. I had better get to it i spose. *quotes from multiple movies pop into her head all at once*

Lord of the Rings (frodo): I can't do this Sam!
Holes: if only, if only the woodpecker sighs
Ice Age: (scrat) just a long, drawn out wail

And so she realises, only too late that her bloggie was faithful to her after all.

You see, i have reasoned with myself that perhaps my current literary paralysis has stemmed from the evaporation of my personal voice. When i don't write here, i won't write anywhere. So, through what i think is pretty cogent reasoning, i have convinced myself that, as long as i keep this blog running along rational lines for the time being, it will enhance my performance in exams.



Yup, that's all it really comes down to. Kate's getting paranoid again, 'thinking too precisely on it'..."and thus the native hue of resolution is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought".

Success! i have completed my lit study for the day through remmebering that one quote!

ha.
*heaves a sigh and then returns to the plodding path of study*

They're coming. And like a beast on four, i cower before my doom. Misgivings and doubts attack me from all sides, so that as I, with all the strength of spirit i can muster, battle one on the right another chews at my self-confidence on the left.

Ah, i love being dramatic. Never fear, i'm not serious. I just enjoy writing like this; stimulating energetic conceits excites me.

ooh! Margaret and David are on!

Study. Tv. Study?

Tv wins.

by the way, i'm moving in two days. Scary man. boxes everywhere. can't concentrate.
Dad was in a kite-surfing accident. He had to go to the emergency ward in hospital. :( :(

"Unprovoked attack: man stabbed in buttock"

Now who could stifle a snigger at that? I love how it's a singular 'buttock'. God, poor guy. Getting mugged AND THEN having to deal with a humiliating headline.

Opening up the pages of a newly-borrowed library book, i was hit with a foul odour rising from the pages. Where was the motive in this olfactory insult? It should be used to people opening up its chambers and exploring its internal anatomy of words. In fact, that's all it's useful for. It seems (i believe from its shiny cover and not yet yellowed pages) it still needs time to accept its role. Maybe it wanted to be a teacup instead, and so inflicts its woes to gain a bitter satisfaction in universal moroseness. Perhaps it is in the rebellion teenage stage of book life, and has an urge to aggravate and affront everyone around it.

anyhoo. I shall restore my writings to 'sense', or at least the dominant perception of sense.
I wonder how such a stench imbibed itself in the pages?
Any idea?
...(allows a polite silence, although the agitation in her demeanor indicates that her impatience to say something would cut your contribution off anyway)
I have a theory!
They printed on pages made of recycled toilet paper. [Now, i don't even know if there is such thing as recycled toilet paper, although with these environmentally conscious times, i wouldn't rule out the possibility.] However, there was *gasp* some malfunction in the purification plant. Under the very (acclimatised) noses of the shit-plant employees, toilet paper travelled into the chute, and then out of the chute STILL WITH DEFINITE TRACES OF HUMAN EFFLUENCE!!! And they went to the printing factory, where the workers were too busy inhaling pino-fresh to notice anything unusual.
And now this novel has made its way to me, to make indignant my sense of smell.

*chortle* did i say i would revert to sense?

hmm. holidays. Holi-days. Holi days. Holy days. That's where the word came from doncha know. It's amazing how many words have religious origins. Like for example: babble. The word came from that Genesis story of Babylon. Here, Genesis, chpater 11, verse 7-9:

"Come, let us go down, and confuse their language there, so that they will not understand one another's speech. So the Lord scattered them abroad from there over the faceof all the earth and they left off building the city. Therefore it was called Ba'bel..."

I've become very interested in the bible. I wrote that passage all from memory you know. It has become a little goal of mine to memorise Genesis before Christmas. It is the least i can do for the Lord.
...
HAHHAHA!
please don't tell me you believed me. Although, you've got to give credit- i went all the two steps over the to bookshelf to reach up (oh the effort) and grab Amy's old school bible. My past self wouldn't have thought i would have been bothered to be so resourceful.

Ah! Naked is I! where is my watch? I feel so bare...I must depart!

*vanishes mysteriously with a puff of purple smoke and leaving behind a thoughtful smell of sulphur*

The Return of the Bedraggled Biology Student

We came.
We didn't conquer.
We ran back to our comfortable cozies.

= a summary of my biology camp. You know me- i ain't one for camps. Being one with the wilderness is something that i will never be able to do. But, suprisingly, it wasn't as bad as it could have been. In fact, i would say it was even a rather enjoyable experience- that is, until Mrs England sprang the trap on Wednesday night. That day, we had collected a whole heap of data on plant diversity and distribution and the quality of soil in two communities. There we were, bone-weary from trudging through mud and swimming through shrubbery when BOOM, we learned we had to write up an entire report (which is just a scientific word for essay) on our investigation. Brilliant. What's more, we had to do it THAT NIGHT. I rambled so much it wasn't funny, recycling the same sentence over and over and over and over again. BOO.

I'm so glad to be home. I went straight to Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.

oh, and a rather pleasant coming-home surprise. I won half a thousand buckaroos in a painting comp! rather stunned. I think it's just because not a lot of people entered...Still, i ain't complaining!

Isn't it so annoying how adding Wikipedia to your bibliography is taboo? Some of the best information is on there sometimes! It's so thorough, so easy to access. Sure, half of the information may be false, but hey, who's to say we should trust our textbooks anyway?

Isn't it weird how you realise you have all these ideas and opinions you never knew of when you write? Suddenly, this torrent of individuality comes pouring out, and you wonder, hey, who IS this person? surely i didn't just write that? Surely that's not ME?
I suppose it's even more startling for me because i can't seem to think in sentences anymore. I start a rational thought, then give up halfway and just let it run off half naked, only wearing a par of ridiculous looking galoshes and a sombrero.

It's only eight thirty and i feel so tired. I just want to crawl to my bed and doze into eternity. oof. *she presses the space key with effort*

i just feel like rebelling the whole human system and going off in the wilderness to live as a hermit. Escape from SOCIETY. Have you seen 'into the wild' by any chance? god...that movie.

Slaggin off an idiot yank.

I could bloody murder this guy. I'm not a patriot. I consider Australia like a little, bald man bobbing subserviently next to a finely dressed gentleman wiping his mouth delicately with an elegant napkin. And hell, i'll bag off the entire countries politician's as violently as the next person. But this, man, this is unacceptable:

Australians are like the obnoxious little brother who follows his older brother everywhere. You people are always bagging the US, yet you immitate it like rediculous adolecents. Grow up Australia, and learn to live on your own. You people whinge more than the POHMs whom you also look down upon. Why don't you embrace your own bloody culture (what is your culture exactly? Bike helmets, orange vests, speed cameras and McDonalds? Baby bonuses, flat screen tellies and obesity?) and leave mine alone. This is a weather phenomenon, and has nothing to do with karma, carbon or religion.

Posted by: Ameican Ex-Pat of Adelaide 10:08am today Comment 7 of 19

YOU BLOODY IGNORANT YANK! CAN'T EVEN BLOODY SPELL!!! 'REDICULOUS???' 'ADOLECENTS???' HAHAHAHHAHAHAH!! I LAUGH IN YOU'RE FACE, YOU PUTRESCENT PIECE OF SLIME!! IF YOU THINK AUSTALIA'S SO BAD, THEN SCOOT OFF BACK TO YOUR OWN PROPAGANDA WORLD, EH? SOUNDS GOOD TO ME! AND YOU BLOODY HYPOCRITE, HOW CAN YOU ACCUSE AUSTRALIA'S 'CULTURE' OF OBESITY WHEN EVERYONE ONE KNOWS AMERICANS ARE THE FATTEST PEOPLE ON THE EARTH!! AND PRETTY MUCH THE REASON THAT WE HAVE THE PROBLEM IS BECAUSE OF AMERICAN FAST FOOD STORES. EG MACDONALDS. AND HOW WOULD YOU KNOW HURRICANE GUSTAV HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH THE CARBON LEVELS OF THE ATMOSPHERE? I'M SORRY, MAYBE YOU'VE JUST BEEN FED A BUNCH OF LIES BY YOUR GOVERNMENT, BUT IN CASE YOU HAVEN'T HEARD, GREENHOUSE GASES= GLOBAL WARMING = ENVIRONMENAL INSTABILITY = HUGE CHANGES IN WEATHER PATTERNS. DON'T YOU THINK IT'S A SLIGHT COINCIDENCE THAT OVER THE PAST TWENTY YEARS OR SO THE WORLD HAS EXPERIENCED AN UNNATURAL INCREASE IN THE RATE OF NATURAL DISASTERS???

Grrrrrrrrrrrrowl.

This, man, this is were America gets its bad name. But, i will not be like him, i will not be prejudiced against a nation just cause of a single guy. He, (i hope with all my heart) is a minority.

Oh dear Lord look at this one:

"The weather will keep getting worse and worse, and people will begin to blame it on people who do not keep God's laws."
Posted by: Tony of Bondi 9:13am today Comment 3 of 19

ooh, sitting in the house all by my lonesome. Mum's gone out to see some random play (no thanks mum) and sis...well, i don't know where she is. Probably off on a bike ride or something.

History was a lesson of humiliation. You wouldn't think you could embarrass yourself when for the full 55 minutes the class is watching a documentary. But no, kate, you just had to fling yourself into the cesspool of shame. See, the documentary was on how people were affected Nazi Germany. Most of it was told by survivors of the time, old men and women with the past in their eyes. After about half an hour, the sheer despair just became too much for me and i couldn't stop the tears from sliding down my face. I'm not embarrassed so much about that... i mean i hardly see how any one couldn't weep for the shame of what we humans have done to each other. omg, Jenny made me feel so angry. There was this old man on the screen, and he was weeping with grief at a memory of when he was a boy. The Nazi's were on a killing spree, going to villages and literally massacring all of their Jewish residents. In the man's town, the poeple were asked to take their clothes off and line up outside.
"I thought; this is it. We are actually going to die," the man sobbed.
"But my father said, 'you will survive. You will live to tell others the truth of this. And then he pushed me, so i fell on the bodies surrounding me." His father then lay on top of him, protecting him from the spray of bullets. Taking them himself. He was making it look like his son was dead. He was saving him.
Halfway through the story, when you could hear the pain in the man's voice, see it in his eyes, Jenny imitated his sobs. I can't say anything that matches my fury at that moment.

well, i kind of diverged there. The reason i was humiliated was because a neverending stream of phlegm came with my tears. And i had no tissues. So i tried to solve the crisis by sniffing, and that was terribly conspicuous. I thought about asking to go out to the bathroom, but i contemplated people might think i was so overcome with emotion that i just had to escape or something. And so i opted for the worst possible choice. I wiped my nose on the sleeve of my jumper. It stemmed the flow for around a second, but then another nasal tide came. By the end of the documentary, my sleeve was almost soggy from phlegm. god. I am disgusting. Nice one Kate.
You really didn't need to know that, did you?

Isn't it nice to smile at someone, just because? It's strange to think how this stretching of the lips, this baring of teeth, this contraction of cheek muscles can mean so much.

Well, finished that book "1984". I couldn't put it down. I'm onto a new one which is also very good- called "Of Mice and Men" by John Steinbeck. I love the imagery. It's true, you know, what the teacher's say. A reader is just as much a part in the journey of the story as the author. You have to commit yourself if you want to get the full 'juice' out of the book. There shouldn't be such thing as half hearted reading, i've realised. I've been doing that lately, letting my imagination go to rust. Reading the words and not seeing them. Isn't it just amazing how these detailed images can be fabricated in the minds eyes through type on a page? I'm sorry, i'm just fascinated by everything at the moment. I'm so glad that fascination doesn't decrease with age. There is always something new, something to be learned, something to wonder at. Brilliant, eh? I just wish these fascinating things weren't force fed to us, because it just seems to be a natural instinct to choke on them, and want to spit them out.

ah, i have countless little axioms on the peevish nature of learning don't I?

God, there is something so admirable about Oscar Wilde. He's such an arrogant bastard, but i can't help but smile when i read him. He is the wittiest of the witty, and he knows it. I really should get around to reading a novel or play of his...

I was rather stupid yesterday. Well, at least, i can articulate this moment of stupidity. You see, i looked down at this keyboard and was horrified. White particles lined the crevies between e and r and i and o and every other letter. A sea of cells, which plunged over the canyon to fester spitefully. So, on a brainless urge, i took up the keyboard and started banging it on the desk. I could actually see the particles floating down. I swept the grime off onto the carpet (hey, it's a light color, no one would notice) and proceeded bashing the thing with a renewed vigour, born of a curious mix of fascination and disgust. Then...
"Kate! Kate! What ARE you doing??"
"um...it was dirty" i stammered.
"You DON'T do that! You could break the thing! And when the computer's running too!"
I squirmed with humiliation in my seat. oops. Even after that loud episode i was still caught by the desire to continue bashing the damn thing. I'm like one of those people, who, once they find a loose thread on their jumper, can't resist in pulling it until i haven't a thread left on me. Bubblewrap, too. Give me some bubblewrap and i'll pop those little buggers until there isn't an air pocket left. Meaningless, brainless tasks take up so much of my time.

Oh! Have you recently visited www.freerice.com ? The site's upgraded! There's all these new sections! Like geography and languages and grammar and art! cool eh? I now know that Montevideo is the capital of Uruguay. Yeah yeah, i know you already knew that, you geographically endowed freak.

gotta go, Margaret and David are on!!!!! They're so cool!!!

well well. Long time, no write. Haha, no that doesn't work.

Don't you get exhausted with the unremittent demand imposed by school authoritarians (i.e. teachers) to think intelligently? I swear, their indirect yet undying influence has permeated every aspect of personal life. Every time I find myself incapable of interpretting a situation or sentence, or am unable to decrypt a certain section of a random poem or whatever, my breath kind of catches halfway down my chest. It's ridiculous. The pressure to live up to the impossible idyllic student compresses me in a tiny cube. But then i shouldn't do that, i shouldn't blame them. Haha, how i scapegoat them! They are the culprits to all of the average teens predicaments, that's right. *kate laughs dryly*

And so, half of me loves learning and the other half despises it. We have an odd relationship. I wonder if learning loves me? I very much doubt it, as the information i try to embrace continuously detangles itself from my grasp and slinks away into a nebulous corner.

I'm reading a rather engaging book at the moment, called '1948'. Or is it 1942? let me check. Nope, its neither, HAHA. Let me start again.
Currently I am engaged in reading a rather fascinating novel by George Orwell, titled 1984. This science fiction work is where the concept of 'Big Bother' was founded. I've spent about ten minutes trying to explain what it's about, but it's so complicated and the ideas are so ornate and brilliantly conceived that i have neither the talent nor the patience to convey them. Brief overview: Basically, it's set in a world where the common populace is constantly watched. The slightest sign of unorthodoxy means that you are exterminated, removed, the evidence for your very existence destroyed. In fact, the past becomes obsolete, because the government is continuously changing it; a whole department devoted to adjusting newspapers and other media so frequently that an entire civilizations history disintegrates.
blah blah. i suck at writing.

We've finally moved past reproduction in biology, and we're on to growth and development. Past terminologies which just brand themselves to the front of your mind all day like 'gonads' and 'copulation' and 'hermaphrodite snails lie side by side, joined by a layer of mucous and exchange sperm to achieve cross fertilisation'. The imagery i could do without. haha, it's funny though, its so good how our biol teacher makes us crack up. How horrible would it be if you had a really serious teacher in something like that! God awful.

blimey, it's dark outside! how the hell did that happen? last time i looked, it was four. Now it's six thirty. dang.

ohhhhhhh. To indulge in a movie! To submit myself to its comforting cocoon of flashing images and stimulating sounds! If only, my dear.
quite comlaining kate. God, there's more to life...

To fly....."if only, if only, the woodpecker sighed."

oh, sammie :( I'm sorry, i didn't help a bit.

Monday Night: the long weekend is coming to a close. Wow, i've been even more wasteful than usual. Homework was too intimidating, so I spent the grand majority of my hours pressing the 'b' button on my gameboy to kill evil beasties on "The Legend of Zora".

Do you think the Beijing Olympics was successful? Apart from the cloud of concern to do with Human Rights and the environmental aspect, I think they pulled it off rather nicely. London has a lot to live up to. It's kind of sad isn't it? How every time the games has to be bigger and better (and therefore more expensive) than the last. We need competition to boost our own expectations and propel us to new heights, but it gets a bit much, don't it?

I'm a little surprised Obama didn't choose Clinton to be his running partner. Perhaps he will regret it later too- he'd snag a greater percentage of the women's votes if he opted for her. Though I guess it's not supposed to about that. My mum thinks he avoided her because he wanted to distance himself from Bill Clinton. Apparently the two don't really get on. Ah, the nitty gritty dynamics of politics. Based more on the personality of the figurehead than party policy. Nazi Germany showed us that- people swept away by the force of Hitler as a person, with the Nazi's programme accepted through him. Sad, innit? It's amazing how gullible we can all be, how vulnerable, under the right (i.e. wrong) conditions.

Mum's just read my short story (i know, you must be so sick of this topic). Admittedly, her response wasn't as bad as last time...but the only thing she said was
"mm, yeah, i've found some problems here and here and here". A promising verdict. Couldn't she have the decency to play the mother's role and lie for god's sake? You know, just a little lie. Even a nod and a smile would suffice to save my ego from getting pummelled to a pulp.
Ah, failure.

noooooo, the printer's run out of ink.

Add to your 'To Read' List:

1. The Amulet of Sakarand
2. The Golem's Eye
3. A Long way Gone
4. A Spot of Bother
5. The Kite Runner

Well, i'm off (like a piece of cheese, my parents would say. how lame).

QUOTE OF THE DAY: (Mrs Dalloway exert, Virginia Woolf. Believe it or not, that's a single sentence.)

And everywhere, though it was still so early, there was a beating, a stirring of galloping ponies, tapping of cricket bats; Lords, Ascot, Ranelagh and all the rest of it; wrapped in the soft mesh of the grey-blue morning air, which, as the day wore on, would unwind them, and set down on their lawns and pitches the bouncing ponies, whose forefeet just struck the ground and up they sprung, the whirling young men, and laughing girls in their transparent muslins who, even now, after dancing all night, were taking their absurd woolly dogs for a run; and even now, at this hour, discreet old dowagers were shooting out in their motor cars on errands of mystery; and the shopkeepers were fidgeting in their windows with their paste and diamonds, their lovely old sea-green brooches in eighteenth-century settings to tempt Americans (but one must economise, not buy things rashly for Elizabeth), and she, too, loving it as she did with an absurd and faithful passion, being part of it, since her people were courtiers once in the time of the Georges, she, too, was going that very night to kindle and illuminate; to give her party.

i'm so screwed. Short story is due next week. I asked my mum to go over what i'd started last night...her response:
long, awkward pause. Hesitantly: "did you say you had another story idea?"

Ouch. My ego took a fair bruising from that one. I probably needed it though. It was incredibly boring and stupid and highfaluting and....well just shit. I didn't think it was that shit though. Especially 'ouch' because i was writing in my preferred writing style: i.e. totally bohemian and weird. Maybe i was being lazy. Maybe i was kidding myself that i can write. argh goddammit.

So now i'm stuck. I haven't written a word. Not a single word. Whenever i think about it, i get a fluttery feeling that makes me want to go and puke somewhere. I know it sounds crazy, but i'd really rather write an essay instead. God, what has lit done to me? where is my imagination?

I'm in the library right now, using a lap-top. Sitting at a desk in the reference section by my lonesome haha. I forgot my bus money. Nice one kate. My mobile also ran out of battery while i was telling mum, so i don't really know when and where dad is picking me up. I assume sometime after 5:30. great. looking forward to an eventful evening.

Euna, Kristine and Philipa's japanese exchange students came today. ahhhh, forget their names. how observant of me. they seem nice- or at least, so i gleaned before i removed myself to the library.

My eyeballs are drying out from sitting too close to the heater. Should i switch it off?
For:
1. it contributes to green house gases
2. it weighs down the envelope in the mail containing bills
3. as stated, tis drying out my eyeballs
Against:
1. i'm cold
2. i'm lazy
3. i'm too planet-inconsiderate to care at the moment
4. my eyeballs can take it

well well, it looks like we have a winner. The heater stays on.

hahhhhh. I have thus far done no homework. *GROAN* can't wait til, til, til.....god, the way i'm going, i'll finish that sentence with 'the end of my life'. We spend our lives endlessly waiting.

Jasmine and Sophie's birthday today! hope they had a good one. Because of my mum's fracture, they're driving me to school on some days. So nice of their mum to go out of her way- i feel a little guilty. 'specially since petrol is so expensive nowadays. I feel like i should be paying a fare or something.

well, that's it for today. Cannot seem to pump any cocaine into this post to make it high, exciting or even a good excuse to pass the time.

QUOTE OF THE DAY:

"When a man tells you that he got rich through hard work, ask him: 'Whose ?' "- Don Marquis .

Defiance is welling up in me for no reason whatsoever. I've just finished my history essay on Hitler henchman, Heinrich Himmler. Head of Nazi State Police and supervisor of the concentration camp system, it was pretty hard writing an 'empathy essay' on him. I struggled through it though. I was a bit stuck when it came to the conclusion- i have a chronic difficulty of wrapping up a point- mostly because i forget what exactly i was trying to prove. anyhoo, i finally came up with the end line- "himmler may have been a monster, but he was a creature shaped of circumstance- as we all are." I asked me ma to edit the paper. God did she baulk when she read that sentence. No, no, she kept saying sharply. I felt a little rebuffed. I actually believed in what i said. i reckon we are creatures of circumstance. i could've been a murderer...It's only circumstance- my lifes series of events- that makes me who i am. Obviously, she disagrees. maybe i'm an idiot. what i said probably doesn't make sense. i dunno. yeah, i'd better resign myself to the idiot status. Cause if i am one, i'd rather know. I'd rather not run the risk of being ignorant of my ignorance. oh great, she just walked in and harangued me for not doing my share of the household chores. "you're doing the washing up tomorrow. not happy." i mean, she does have a valid point there, i haven't been doing as much as i should (god it's hard to be unbiased when i'm irritated) but the atmosphere was so warm earlier on. damn.

yeah, i'm probably wrong. (she says the next morning)

I've just experienced this weird desire to drink ice cold frappe. mmm *salivates*

GROAN. what to write for my short story? I haven't the foggiest. NOT THE FOGGIEST. like, i can't even see a mist of an idea. Terrible. TERRIBLE.

lit is so intimidating. i get scared, its so daunting. all these people contributing these ideas that i would never dream of, and i just sit there, too impressed to take anything in. I just hear smart ideas and words coming out of peoples mouths as sounds. Does that ever happen to you? Lately its been happening to me a lot. Where i listen to someone talking, i see their lips moving, but everything they say just tumbles out in an organized but unintelligable collection of vowels and constanents on an indecipherable melody. haha, i think i'm forgetting how to interpret sound.

meow? meow! says tigga. yes my baby. i am coming my precious.

oh crap i need to do story retrieval chart for lit. heeelllllppppppppp

http://eightsolid.com/24-very-strange-funny-signs/ = funneee

irritated at headlines again

A lot of times, i am cautious of being derisive in fear of being prejudiced or lacking understanding or empathy or whatever. But i believe my cause in this instance is just enough.
Headline:
Olympian tells what killed pool romance.

Why? just.....just why? Why do the media do this? are they reflecting on what society wants to read? If that be the case, my opinion of society has just severely degenerated. But even if our world is so narrow-minded as to get a kick out of reading the details of some randoms love life, the media shouldn't fuel that desire. They should reflect a necessary, accurate depiction of what really happens in the world. and when i say the world, i mean the whole world, not just the developed, technologically supreme countries. We are the minority, and should be getting a whole better idea of how life really is for most humans. I have no desire to be informed of the precise dynamics of prominent figures sex lives. I mean, yes, very sad, very sad that they broke up, but in the great scheme of things, next to the famines, the wars, the hunger, the abuse...it amounts to nothing.

off to do history essay. It's so depressing researching Fascism. We have to write an empathy essay on one of Hitler's Henchman. to explain why they supported hitler...background stuff. I think it's a good idea- we can only truly understand why x acted in such a why if we contextualise. Projecting todays values and attitudes on a past era is a bad idea.

We have to write a short story for lit. [slight digression. i hate saying lit. i want to say english, because lit is basically english. but whenever i do, people are like 'oh, i thought you did lit?' gr.] It sounds fun (as opposed to essay writing anyway) but when it comes down to it, starting a short story or even deciding on the theme is an agonizing process. I don't want to sound pompous or moralising or stupid or (especially) sound like i'm really trying to sound 'deep'- relentlessly philosophizing to hammer home a message i don't fully understand. scared.

actually, i have been turning over a story in my mind for some time now...but it's just a parody on everything and nothing, and it contains nothing poignant. More fun really- but why do short stories have to be serious anyway? why can't we rebel against pathos?

Word Definition! yay...had no idea what this word meant. Heard people discussing something in math, and 'soiree' somehow popped in, and i felt so stupid.

Soiree = "a party or reception held in the evening"

i shall no longer live in ignorance.
Do you want to know how i found it? After fruitless attempts of spelling it correctly in a word document, i typed in swar-ray into 'google' with the hope that some online dictionary would give its verbal pronunciation like that (you know how they sound it out....like with forte it's for-tay)

i is idiot.

By the way, my mum fractured her hand on Saturday. Scary experience. We had to call an ambulance because she kept slipping in and out of consiousness. Right now she has to wear her arm in a sling. Unfortunately for her (and me, haha- i'm terrible) it was her right arm that is incapacitated, and she can hardly do anything. Poor mum. i really should help out more...i mean i am, but more than more. i feel guilty sometimes, because i become a touch irritated when i am forced into an extra duty when i have a pile of homework which mounts by the minute. But seriously kate. Seriously man, you've got to be more sympathetic and stop being so damn selfish. haha *inner struggle- by the end of the fight, she's still not sure which part of her has conquered*

Shoved out of house (not home)

Well, it looks like we may be getting kicked out of our house soon. We were informed today- the owners have decided to put the house on the market. They're going to come at around five tomorrow and take pictures of the living areas to send to a couple in Zimbabwe. So; we have to clean this dump up before then. This study is stewn with everything you can imagine and more. I think that's a little cruel, to give us so short notice. It puts a lot of stress on mum. She wants to make the place look nice, because if the couple choose to buy it, they won't be moving in for another two years. So that buys us some time. Dad's saying he wouldn't go to so great an effort.

So crap. We look through the newspapers and see houses selling at a minimum of 1.5 million. Like we have that kind of money. I'm scared we'll end up in some dingy flat somewhere. God, my parents don't deserve that. Dad works so bloody hard, and mum...all she wants is a home. Right now i'm hating perth for their soaring house prices- god, we're almost leading the world, we're so darn expensive. I don't like this house, but i just wish we could find somewhere to settle down, some place to call our own.

yeah...it's times like this i wish we were rich. Cause it seems you have to be now....the gaps widening....You're either on top, or you're getting squished underfoot.

damn.

John Butler with a halo

Kate sloshed on the black pigment aroundJohn Butler's head. She spent a while greiving over his exceptionally long nose. Her attention-span waning, she stepped back from the canvas. And exploded with laughter.
'Hey!' she cried, gesturing towards it for the sake of some unknown viewer, 'it's Jesus!'
She stopped laughing suddenly. Her eyes grew wide. SHE HAD JUST ACHIEVED SPONTANEITY!!! IN ITS PUREST FORM!!! i mean, there are plenty of times when i surprise others by sudden outbursts or odd little comments which digress completely from the subject at hand, but to surprise MYSELF! this is a worthy occasion indeed!
she chortled away for the next few minutes, feeling highly satisfied (though not really knowing why exactly).

I watched the most random film last night. Dad picked it up from the DVD store. Called "phil the alien." A low budget film, with an outrageous storyline (including a talking beaver and an alien who turns into a homicidal maniac with the change of season). But it was still pretty funny. Only because it the humour was so far from the dull and predictable drollness that todays supposed 'humour' genre are inebriated with.
NOTE: DO NOT EVER WATCH 'THE LOVE GURU'.
Margaret and David (At the Movies on ABC) gave it only one star. From the clips, it looks TERRIBLE. Justin Timberlake is an AWFUL AWFUL actor. sorry mate. We can't be good at everything you know. And some people aren't even good it anything, so you're not alone. HAHA- nah, i'm kidding. He's an ok singer.

LAST DAY! booooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
i still need to do my design development...god, i've been procrastinating from that ALL BLOOMIN HOLIDAYS. haven't done ANY math either, cause my graphics is broken. yup. that's my excuse.

I seem to be devoid of that get-up-and-go drive. Whenever i make a decision to go somewhere, or do something, I always need to wait for at least an hour before doing it. For what? To compose myself for the task ahead? Hardly. I prodded my state of mind for a bit and discovered that the idea of fluid and constant action was a little alarming.
The city is my family's decided destination for the day. Mum and dad want to look at the museum, and i thought, hell, it's the second last day of hols- i must cram some more fun in. Plus, i feel a little guilty. I hardly ever spend any time with them...i mean time time. Not just the could-you-pass-the-peas kind of time.

bbrrrring. The phone shuddered screechily against the silence of 9:00 saturday. The lone inhabitant pitter-pattered over the tile floor and picked up the receiver.
hello?
kate, this is dad.
hey dad.
listen, i've organised a mate of mine to give you a lend of his kite. We'll need to be there around 11:00, so that means you'll have to be out of your jami's at 'bout quarter past 10.
kate blinked.
ok.

So i had a whack at it today. No, i wasn't cruising the waves. Just working the kite on the sand.
I'll be straight- i was very nervous. We went to said 'mate's' house first, where the kites were set up. It was tucked away in a little cul de sac, where two friendly dogs plodded around amicably and a toddler rode round in circles on his tricycle. Tried to make conversation with their 11 year old daughter. Failed. They seem such a nice family though. I mean, the conversation breakdown was a failing on my part. Once everything was prepared, we were off, driving down the coast road.

Looking out the window, memories stirred somewhere inside. This was where we used to live, when we lived in Perth before. I still remember the address. 5 Nunn Close Bateman. Nope, not the postcode though. hell, i can't even recall my current postcode.

It was pretty fun. Yeah, the wetsuit was so stiff i could barely move my limbs, sure developed a neck-ache from craning my head to look at the kite, sure, i embarrassed myself beyond belief a number of times (by getting dragged along the beach, and crashing the kite in a bit of shrubbery) but i'm trying. I really want to do this, i really want to have fun- as much as for dad as for myself. You know?

i don't know, ever since i've come back, i've been extraordinarily sombre. This frown persists in crouching between my eyebrows. When i try to shoo it away, it creeps back in, as though that's its natural home. curious. probably just a symptom of almostendoftermohshititus.

i wonder if our mlc musicians are back from Europe. I really hope they had a blast. Can't wait to ask them all these quesitons...about the world...

QUOTE OF THE DAY: wow, i never understood this song until i looked it up on http://www.songmeanings.net/lyric.php?lid=52068 . It's amazing- it's about the cold war.

"Albert's always sincere, he's a sensitive type
His intentions are clear, he wanna be well-liked
If everything is nothing, then are we anything?
Is it better to be better than to be anything?
And Albert's vision is blooming uncontrolled
All his wings are slowly sinking
The world begins to disappear
The worst things come from inside here
All the king's men reappear
For an eggman, on and off the wall
Who'll never be together again

Einstein's down on the beach staring into the sand
Cause everything he believes in is shattered
What you fear in the night in the day comes to call anyway-ay
We all get burned as:
One more sun comes sliding down the sky
One more shadow leans against the wall
The world begins to disappear
The worst things come from inside here
And all the king's men reappear
For an eggman, on and off the wall
Who'll never be together again

Albert's waiting in the sun
On a field American
For the cause of some inflated form of hit and run
One more sun comes sliding down the sky
One more shadow leans against the wall
The world begins to disappear
The worst things come from inside here
And all the king's men reappear
For an eggman, fallin' off the wall
Will never be together again
Albert's fallen on the sun
Cracked his head wide open
The world begins to disappear
The worst things come from inside here...

Never try to attack a sturdy, steel chair. It has an impeccable defence.

Kate snorted. She seethed. The chair provoked a short-lived assault by looking with calm detachment on her severe infuriation. The chair won. Kate hobbled away with a red toe, muttering darkly about going to Ikea.

All because the form of a teacup eluded her. (one hour ago) She poised the tip of the pencil on the clean, crisp paper and proceeded to make a series of wide, sweeping movements. The effect was studied from all angles. After a moments thought, she came to the conclusion that she was remarkably apt at drawing. But only in the eyes of the Tragothonians from planet Extortha, which have an unfathomable predilection for art works resembling grotesque, lump and scribbled objects which possess not blood ties to the intended item of study. Not even third cousins twice removed.
For all other life forms, whether it be the yellow-spotted gznoonak, the grumpy and cigar-smoking ophi, or the incurably hysterical Eurj (which, for some unknown reason, looks exactly like a bowler hat) IT WAS SHIT.

So she did was kate always does when she can't do something. She gave up and stormed off.

You guys haven't seen me really 'angry' have you? i mean, annoyed, sure. I spend most of my time annoyed as something or other (falling back on the incorrigable blueness of the carpet when my good disposition has just started to bask in a couple of rays of sunlight). But angry. hmm.
It's kind of funny, and kind of not- when my mum gets angry, she yells and storms and, well, doesn't scruple to let everyone know it. I'm the opposite. I get all cold. I clench my jaw and avoid contact completely. So when we're angry at each other, my anger is unbelievably infuriating to her. She bellows in my ear and i assume a nonchalent expression and icily observe some dot to the left side of her head. God, it peeves her. I feel bad about it afterwards, but when you're fuming the voice of morality and reason sounds very distant and feeble in your ear, and is swiftly squished by complete distortions. Burnt up by the flame that has travelled from your heart, on its way up to spout at any time from your ears.
wow, that metaphor really sucks.

something else on my nerves: i was trying to paint john butler. enough said.
also: my graphics calculator has broken.
also: i can't get the blogskin to work.
also: holidays are almost over.

do you see why an innocent teacup had to be scapegoated?

phew.

fixed it.

Funny News Article

haha! read this:

http://news.ninemsn.com.au/article.aspx?id=597575

What a let down! while he was smashing the pane, i bet an award for bravery was glittering in his minds eye, followed closely by the newpaper headline "Fast thinking cop saves innocent". Instead his department probably has to face a fine for car damage, and he has to suffer the humiliation for attempting to resuscitate a deceitful bit of plastic.

Finally, Big Brother has died! i shall dance on his grave!
Well, actually, i believe it's more correct to say he's committed suicide. It was his own undoing. His suicide was guaranteed from the first episode. despise it.

Radiohead are a pretty cool band.

wow. everything slightly interesting in me seems to have dried up like putty dries up in the sun. i'm going to have to leave you know...i have nothing left to say.

...and she waits for a podcast to download...

ok i'm bored.
hey, i just found this cool little mnemonic (god, it took me ages just to find that damn word). Tis LIMP PAPER, and gives the reasons for Hitler's rise to power

Long-term bitterness (many people thought Germany had been winning the war. They called the government 'november criminals' for agreeing to the humiliating and crippling Treaty of Versailles)
Ineffective Constitution (overly democratic. Nothing much could be done. Plus, article 48 gave too much power to the Chancellor- he could forgo fundamental rights in 'extreme' situations.
Money (a few important moguls supported Hitler and funded his efforts)
Propaganda (heavy propaganda organised by a guy called Goebbels)

Programme (Hitler's scapegoating techniques assured that his programme could satisfy the majority)
Attacks by the Friekorps, SA and SS (aka, bands of thugs)
Personality (Hiter's had the personality to influence a lot of people. Well, the one he showed at rallies, anyway.)
Economic Depression (the economy had mainly relied on American loans. so when wall street crashed...)
Recruitment by Hindenburg (ie Hitler was made Chancellor)

GAH! i'm so sick of waiting for this Hamish and Andy podcast to download on itunes. I can't even pause the damn thing and wait for tomorrow, cause then it just goes back down to 0 kb.
grr. 24 more minutes. Do you know how slow my computer is? It's taken AT LEAST AN HOUR to download 11MB's.
omg. i just thought to myself, 'is there such a word as 'fidgetates?'

how much time must i spend looking into a screen. a flat glowing screen. Moving my fingers in wild, erratic movements. Expressionless. If animals were a touch more intelligent, they'd think we were the strangest creatures.

Did i hear right? I'm listening to a Harry Potter soundtrack (haha) and i swear one of them just said
'have a very fuckin christmas'
*turns up the dial and listens again*
Seriously! i think she just swore!

15 minutes.
yes. i'm rambling just to pass the time.

OMG, did you know that Henry Ford's company funded the Nazi party in its emergence years? unbelievable...

"[Hitler's policies] were half-baked, racist clap-trap... but among the jumble of hysterical ideas Hitler showed a sure sense of how to appeal to the lowest instincts of frightened masses."
It's so hard to know which sources to truly believe in history. We are all afflicted by bias of some form...i mean, every assertion is one part opinion. Even the statistics are biased! you wouldn't think so, eh? i mean, how can you be one-sided with cold mechanical numbers? well, you can be partilaly selective with the data. Eg. Say you showed the crime rate in America in 1923 was 300 murders a year in Texas. And you're like woah! Man! and you jump to the conclusion that the crime rate soared in that year. However, what if for the last decade it's been about the same? Suddenly the situation changes. You conclude that Texas is just a natural breeder of sinners.
*note: the former was a mere hypothesis. no offence to any texans. your heavy accent just made your state jump into my mind first.*

EIGHT MINUTES!! come one come onnnnnn. I have that feeling when you want to pee...except i don't. My dear kate, i do believe that's called impatience. HAHAHA

OHHH! THIS IS SO SWEET! read

"...and I couldn't stop smiling. All because someone wonderful had just made me very happy. The photographer would tell me to move to a certain position and I'd turn that way. I was actually feeling pretty comfortable. I'd move to the position he wanted and I'd look deep or intense or one of those things I try to do to avoid looking like an idiot...and then a smirk would steal across my mouth...and then a smile...then a grin...and finally I'd start fucking giggling like a complete fool.

And then he'd tell me a new position and it would start all over again. Over and over and over.

I told her later that I thought she'd ruined me for photoshoots forever and that I'd probably never be a believable serious mopey guy again."

I can't help feeling sometimes that Duritz is just a touch self-absorbed. He assesses his unhappiness too much...and by focussing on it, he feeds it. so easy to say though...

TWO MINUTES!!!!!!!!

(i'm desperate now) I'm going into Floreat tomorrow. I really want to get out this book that Jemps told me about ages ago, called 'the long way gone'. i've been searching for it, cause it sounded really good- a true story about a child soldier. Also need to get out something for my art assessment. BOO. do you know how much bloody art homework i have these holidays??? unbelievable. and i en't begun any of it.

IT'S DONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HALLELUJAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i'm gone.

I swear, everything is all just a state of mind.
Listen to a piece of music. Sounds terrible, doesn't it? Listen to it again. Tell yourself it's good. Seek out why other people might like it. Not so bad now, huh?
Life's good, oh yeah, it's fantastic. Life sucks- it sure does. The world is so good, the world is so cruel. Damn these generalisations! You nod at them both, you deny the validity of both vehemently.

Isn't it so strange how our entire outlook, our entire demeanour can fluctuate with the temperature? Such small factors paint the tints of our lives...

Quit philosophizing kate. god, i hate it when you do that. 'oooh deep'. Deep my ars you shallow prick. maybe to a six-year-old, but to everyone else, you're just stating the bleeding obvious, and being very aggravating while doing it. 'paint the tints of our lives'. PAHAHA. You've been reading too many quotes kate. every sentence doesn't have to be some divine embodiment of subliminal meaning. Trying to capture the pure essence of thought, eh? Striving towards the meaning of life? you idiot.
sorry, needed that self-vent. hahaha (yeah, i'm crazy)

yo!

I'm afraid i've given up entirely on Robinson Crusoe. Why it is a classic i have no idea. Why does he have to be puntilious??? It's like reading maths....
Therefore, it has been replaced by a book called 'Tomorrow's People'. It's supposed to be non-fiction, hypothesizing the effects the ever-evolving technology will have on our future selves. However, it is so blatantly subjective, it may as well be fiction. I mean, there's so many 'it this's' and 'if that happened' when predicting the future, such a plethora of factors that would effect the projected outcome. The author's talking about a world where the family unit has dissipated entirely, that we talk only through our cyber-selves, where there are buttock sensors on the loo, and instruments in the toilet to analyse our shit to detect disease. Where we interact (and what's more, choose to interact) with artificially intelligent robots more than other humans.
If you ask me, she's getting carried away with her imagination. Influenced by films such as AI and I, Robot. I mean, she's a scientist, a neurologist, so she is marginally certified to write such an audacious book. But i'm struggling to see her purpose in writing it. How can i be persuaded to fear somethign that has little chance of ever enventuating? Did she expect her readers to tke her seriously?
But i'm still reading it, because her wild contentions are amusing and mildly interesting.

QUOTES OF THE DAY:

"Drawing on my fine command of the language, I said nothing." --Robert Benchley

"I do benefits for all religions. I'd hate to blow the hereafter on a technicality." --Bob Hope

"For Sale: Parachute. Only used once, never opened, small stain."

"Join The Army, Visit exotic places, meet strange people, then kill them."

pinch n a punch

Good Grief. One Nation wants to make a Big Brother granny part of their gang. Now what does that say about Australian politics?

We had a tute party today (i remembered at 7:30 this morning, haha). It was a tribute for Anna- she's leaving for Japan at the end of this term. I'm still trying to decide whether i'm envious or not.

Hmm. i like Crowded House.

"whenever i fall at your feet, you let your tears rain down on me"

I'm really scared i wrote my essay all wrong. Park was delineating what exactly should be in the topic i'm doing to the class today...i kind of wish he hadn't, then i could have pleaded ignorance, hahah. But...you know, i can't be stuffed doing it again. No way man. Over my dead body.


I'm also really starting to doubt my state of mind when i opted for the eucalyptus as my plant to research. I think we were supposed to choose a particular species. I chose a genus. A very broad genus, which just so happens to be made up of 800 highly diverse species.

Ooh, yay! new James Bond movie. No...i'm not a fan. In fact (strike me down) i've only seen one...the most recent, with Daniel Craig. you know, when the guy whips his balls?...yeah.
haha, well i want to see it. Ah, so many movies, so little time. What else do i want to see?
1. Band Trip
2. (possibly) get smart
3. the new batman movie (for perhaps the sole reason it was Ledger's last)
4. Magnolia
5. the sixth sense (i'm going in dvd's as well)
6. fargo
7. mongol

yeah...plus somethin scary. get the blood pumping. stop fantasizing kate!

QUOTES OF THE DAY: (Emo Phlips)

"I once had a large gay following, but I ducked into an alleyway and lost him."

"I go from stool to stool in singles bars hoping to get lucky, but there’s never any gum under any of them."

"When I was a kid I used to pray every night for a new bicycle. Then I realised that the Lord doesn’t work that way so I stole one and asked Him to forgive me."

"People come up to me and say, Emo, do people really come up to you?"

"I got in a fight one time with a really big guy, and he said, I’m going to mop the floor with your face.
I said, You’ll be sorry.
He said, Oh, yeah? Why?
I said, Well, you won’t be able to get into the corners very well."

Finally! Some humour worth laughing at!!! i'm overjoyed!!

Axe murderers, kris, coffee and balls (no, not those ones)

Why does everyone have to go round murdering each other? Why not leave it to the crime dramas?

Top story today: Grandfather goes mad, goes on a rampage, kills his wife and two grandchildren with an axe. Police found him (just now) at a motel.

Why are we such a bloody self-destructive organism??? Apart from rats, we are the species who is most prone to killing each other. Isn't that stupid?? And humans are all portrayed as kind and empathetic and stuff. I mean some are, but it seems we have to balance it out with the other extreme.

Kristine's back at school today! Poor Kris, hobbling round stiffly, wincing every time she has to tackle the stairs. :( Someone stole her lunch too, to put the extra-dry sprinkling of faeces on the shit. Ploy, moved by pity, tried to persuade her to stay at home tomorrow, but Kris adamantly refused, saying she missed school all last week. I see what she means- even though when we're there, all we ever do, practically, is complain about school, but seriously. Life would be even more tedious without it.

Because our RE class was so small today, we spent the lesson down at the home ec department, where Hayami worked the coffee machine, and we all sat around, drinking mochas, chatting. Twas fun. I love those engaging conversations...you learn so much- not just from the subject matter, but from the people themselves. You know that feeling that comes after a good natter? yeah...it was fun. Did you know Ella used to live in Dubai? for about nine years...i didn't know that. She's pretty cool...i dunno, i've always semi-admired her...she doesn't really seem to give a damn about what anyone thinks.

I'm getting end-of-term-itis. Procrastinating. Being negligent to my whining pile of homework. Plonking down on the couch nightly. Opting for crosswords over applying words in intelligable structures called essay paragraphs.
hold up. How is that any different from usual? what a load of crap. End-of-term-itis (to use a sam phrase) my aunt fanny.

You know, i can still feel your presence in the group. As if you're sitting there with us, only invisible. Sometimes i smile to think of your reactions to certain group goings on. Especially when you would laugh.

Looks like the ball arrangement in Challenge Stadium is sealed. I have to admit (grudgingly) i was taken hook, line and sinker when there was a presentation by a guest speaker in Tute on the advantages of the venue. The guy was pretty funny. I am still trying to figure out if he was gay or not. He was suspiciously effeminate. haha, but seriously, they do themes like "winter wonderland", "alice in wonderland", "chicago", "caribbean" to name a few. In fact, we can invent our own theme. I think people are struck with the idea "charlie and the chocolate factory' but i think the fumes would become overpowering. And the entertainment wouldn't be that great.
Yes, yes, i know, how uncharacteristic it is for me to be talking of such a subject. haha, hinge up your jaw again, i don't have a boyfriend. Its just the excitement is infectious.

QUOTES OF THE DAY: Steven Wright

"I went to a general store. They wouldn't let me buy anything specifically."

"Some people are afraid of heights. Not me, I'm afraid of widths."

"I went to the museum where they had all the heads and arms from the statues that are in all the other museums."