Darling! You Have Got The Wrong Holly Golightly!

My thought of the day is that trains are death.
This is possibly some kind of law, because I’ve never experienced it any other way, and is generally acheived by the pervasive smell that permeates your skin.

Somehow, or other I guess, I am pretty much happier than I have ever been, or at least more than I can remember being, and it’s not just the g&t I downed on an empty stomach. I don’t really understand it, and I feel like when I realise that I’m smiling again for absolutely no reason as I’m walking down the street that I’m trying to talk myself out of it.

It’s kind of weird.
Maybe it’s not actually happiness, but rather delusion. Who knows? Maybe it’s a good thing? Right now, I don’t even care. It’s nice.

I was watching some kind of ad today, and clearly whoever was in it was from Victoria. They really do have an accent, unlike the accent that I am purported to have. Rachael (extra e, greedy for vowels) said that sometimes I put on an accent. Rachael, really, is also friends with the dreaded Hobbit, so I don’t see how taking much stock in what Rachael says is going to help.
Seriously, though, there’s a weird inflection on an e that somehow creates an a that is really easy to pick. My Victorian friend actually once started talking about talaparting some alaphants, which was weird. Not in the least because who would want to telelport an elephant anyway?
Victorians are so weird, they even pronounce Woolworths as Safeway. I mean, come on.

Home is pretty good, it’s all landscaped and everything at the moment, and it was gorgeous weather. I was only at home for about ten minutes but hey, it was still nice.
My dog misses me, I think, because she seems to think that she’s allowed to sleep in my bed or something. She’s lucky that she was still clean when she climbed on top of me this morning. She has an unfortunate habit of rolling in some gross, black things whenever she has the chance.

I’m a pretty bad friend, though. I went home, albeit briefly, but the only people I saw were Big Hels, my grandma, my swedish aunt, and Renee. I’m glad that I got to see Ray though, and by association pictures of baby Paige.
Unfortunately, we went to the movies and saw the Mist, which was comical until the last few minutes when the hero shot everyone, went outside to die, and then didn’t.
Predictable, but kind of depressingly so.

Suddenly, I have opinions on everything, and I keep telling people. I was talking to Ruth, who I have seen maybe three times in my entire life given that she lives in Sweden (home of IKEA correctly pronounced ‘ickya’), and I started ranting about the media frenzy that is directed towards P platers, and the trashiness of the newspapers at the moment. I don’t know, but I don’t actually care, I just felt like I had things to say. I don’t talk to people I don’t know, why would I even think to rant about something so random?
She is also the reason that I am considering picking up International Studies instead of Law to make my Journalism degree into a double. She works as a translator, so I guess she likes the whole idea of learning another language, and culture. I like the idea of it too, and it has grown on me a lot lately. Also, I have fears that Law is a terribly dry degree…
She just told me not to go to Sweden because everyone there speaks English anyway.
I think I’d like to go to Rome, or something.
It seems dumb to talk about it now at all, because first I have to get good marks and stuff…and stuff…and I don’t actually know if I can revert back into being a proper nerd, really.

Just a thought, but I love Vampire Weekend x101010932085.3
I saw the video clip for A-Punk this morning on JTV, and I swear it was the cutest thing ever ever. I love Ezra, I hope we get married.

Apparently this blog shows that I have a little too much time on my hands, and I realise that I’m horribly introspective, and have copious amounts of boring thoughts, but I’m beginning to love them.
I still pray for the day that my rambling becomes somewhat focused, and it turns from drivel and nothingness (a la Seinfeld, even down to the slight Superman obsession), I am glad to have my mind wandering in the kind of directionless tangents that can lead you into accidentally finding yourself, and realising that you have everything to gain (because you’re a fat girl with a lisp).

Thinking too much drove me mad until I vented it all into those meaningless words that really don’t matter. It doesn’t even matter if anyone reads them because, really, they are out in the mystical <> and not inside my head.

Words tend to be inadequate, but they help.

Tuesday is the beginning of OWeek, which also means the influx of snotty little freshers into my previously silent college halls. It also means the influx of boy freshers, half of which will actually be older than me, which, in the end, isn’t that bad.

Tomorrow is the start of my new uni degree. Tomorrow is the start of forever.

I Want To Be Like Grace Kelly

My advice to friends with romantic troubles is on a downward slope.

I used to be good at pointing out the obvious, like Lennon and his “Love Is All You Need”-type truisms.
Most of the time when people ask you for advice, they already know what they want to hear, even if they didn’t realise it yet.
I guess I’m kind of good at telling people the things that they want to hear.

Lately, however, I have been dispensing the kind of advice that doesn’t really help anyone. I keep telling people that they should rejoice in their love and confusion because when they look back on it, they’ll realise how great it was to occupy their minds with the happy obsession of potential relationships.

Worse still, I think that I’m taking my own advice.
Whatever that means.

She’s Got Everything To Gain ‘Cause She’s A Fat Girl With A Lisp

It takes three weeks to break a habit, and I think that is has been four and a half. I don’t want to go back to before, so I’m not sure what’s going to happen. It’s almost inevitable. Maybe not. I guess I’ll have to see what happens.I’m so confused about stuff, I think, and I don’t know what I think anymore. I liked knowing what I wanted, and I feel like I always have. I used to think that this is what I wanted.
It’s hard to deny the appealing contours that seem to be forming.

I got Tigermilk..or more accurately I got two copies of Tigermilk. My dad burnt me a copy, and sent it to me, and it finally arrived yesterday morning. When I went to work I was really early, though, so I thought that I’d finally embrace my lack of metal (mettle) and go into Utopia where I found another, but infinitely more authentic copy.
My dad is pretty nice. He found a picture of what the original disc looked like on the internet, and copied it onto the one he made for me. He’s such a nerd.

I don’t want to sound bad at all, especially not in the manner of Oedipus because…because, well, gross, but maybe I am more of a Daddy’s girl than I realised. Who doesn’t love a tall, lanky nerd, though?

I also got a copy of Fold Your Hands Child, You Walk Like A Peasant, because I thought that if I found them in one of the most Metal shops I have seen in Broadway I should probably buy all of the twee Scottish pop that was there. I much prefer Tigermilk, really, but I haven’t listened to it that much.

I don’t want to sound at all like I am planning on conforming to the ridiculously, perceivable pressure that really doesn’t mean anything at all, but I wish I was a brunette. I am not even kidding, but this isn’t such a novel thought. I am blonde because I was blonde, and I like being blonde, even if it has lowered my Intellectual Provocation & Stimulation quota, but whatever. I just wish sometimes that I had a nice natural hair colour, and nice dark brown that was forever shiny, forever stable, forever me. I tried it during my tumultuous adolescence, but the red highlights seeped into focus, and I just had gross hair. I wish I had a shiny mane, but I think that dark brown would require even more maintenance than my blondness. Which is a pity. Maybe when I revert from my Univerisity induced laziness I’ll reattempt it. Big Hels would die, really.
Why yes! I am entirely vain and obsessed with my hair! Is that okay? Does vanity count when you’re pretty sure you’re only making a front out of it so that the mirror doesn’t make you cry in the morning?

 Surprise! I have already given up on rerererereading Emma. I’m back to Catch-22, which is obviously the greatest book of all time. It makes me wish MASH was less, or didn’t get so disappointing. Pity.

I kind of went against all advice and caught up with someone a few days ago. It was okay. I mostly did it because I wanted to see how I would react, as well as them. It was really okay. It was kind of a relief, maybe. I’m not sure what I feel about that either, to be honest.

Sometimes, I think that I do things that I know are bad for me not because I think I’m invincible, but rather because I know I’m not, and I just like to test the waters.

Making Love To The Duke & Sword Fighting The Queen

I never expected that I’d be in a position for something more than a fling. Not last year. I’ve never been the girl that guys like, that they adore, that they want to date, and I had accepted it. Or, at least, I thought that I had.
I think I grew up in the last few months, or at least I let myself without just pretending that I had. I could go back to who I was before but I don’t feel like it. I don’t regret it, but the thought of returning to the instability of the way I used to behave seems kind of empty.
That’s kind of why I cut my hair. I know I said that I was going to do it before anything even happened, but I really wasn’t. I adored when it hung down my back, and brushed across my spine.
Except that afterwards, it started to feel stifling. I mean, how could everything be exactly the same when I didn’t even feel the same anymore? I didn’t understand how I could continue looking exactly like I always did when I didn’t feel like I even was the same person.
If my life was a movie, regardless of the soundtrack because that only leads to endless questions, you could analyse this sudden change and call it a regression to childhood because I always had short hair when I was in primary school, middle school, high school. My life is not a movie, at least not yet. Maybe I’ll have a scandalous career that you’d want to see in a darkened room, or something. Until, then, though I don’t really think I can be analysed. I’ll have to wait it out along with everyone else.
I just feel different. I want to look different.
I’m not a massive whore! I never was. I just…I just don’t even want to do things that give me the chance of even being mistaken as one. It’s not because I don’t want to let you judge me, but I don’t want to give myself the opportunity to judge me. I sound melodramatic, but despite what I seemed to think before, I can’t stop thinking out loud.

Just so you know, you made me think about it, even weeks and weeks and weeks after you said anything, but Britt Daniels really does have the coolest voice in rock music.

I Know What You’re Looking At (and so does Jesus)

Life is good. Life is great.
I just want to exist right now. I’m trying not to think and it’s nice. I wish that thinking was something you can actively control. Rumination leads to nothing but negative emotions and depression.
I’m just slowly going the way of nothing.
It’s nice.
I’m sorry if I’m vague, it’s apparently a character trait for me to neglect to say or explain anything in a rational or logical manner. 

Far From The Cynics

i want to be the Phonograph

that plays your Favourite Songs

as you’re Lying There

drifting off to Sleep

Dear CK:
I want to see you, but I don’t want to see you always. I want to be with you, but I don’t want to be with you always. I want to love you, but I won’t love you always. I want to want you, but I don’t want to want to anymore. I appeared to have tunnel vision, but I wanted to escape the constriction. You thought I was somehow restricting you, but I felt just as trapped in a single room. I’m not the girl you think I am and I’m not even the girl you thought I was. I’m just me, now. I never wanted to be anyone else.x LL

Do You Remember That Time That I Was Lying All Over Your Bed And You Kissed Me All Over My Chest And I Was Dreaming That Each One Was A Different Colour And That I Was Flying Even Though I Could Feel The Ground And I Told You And You Smiled And Kissed Me Again? I think I’m in love with technicolour.

And just so you know, but I’m going to leave the lyrics of your favourite song expressed so incorrectly because now they’re almost mine.

Her Majesty’s a Pretty Nice Girl (But She Doesn’t ‘ave Alot to Say)

I already posted about this, but since now I am in a less hysterical state, and can rationally evaluate the situation a little bit more I thought that I’d post a bit again. I am moving back to Sydney on Sunday, which, even though everyone else seems to think is insane. I don’t think you could blame them. I am going back to college, a place where the greatest appeal lies in its ability to connect you with people, and to almost force you to interact in ways that create friendships, but in reality, for a few long weeks, at least, I am going to be almost alone there. I still don’t think it’s a bad idea. For a few reasons, really.

I definitely need a job. It’s dreadful to exist in endless days of the most oppressive freedom I’ve ever experienced. It’s crazy to be stuck in a cycle that doesn’t prevent you from doing anything, but seems to be against everything you’re craving. Like structure. I don’t have anything to even write lists about, my post-its are lying discarded on the floor. I just need a job, I need something to do, I need to meet new people. I’m slowly going the way of crazy. Don’t blink, or I’m scared that I might suddenly reappear as a cat lady.

I need to move forward especially since being home has this ridiculous power to make me feel like moping is such a good idea. Just being in my room, alone, during the daytime is enough to make me think about the bad things that have happened, and I start thinking in circles. I could solve all my problems with Mindfulness Meditation, according to the Psych1001 paper I wrote, as it prevents rumination, the scariest thing I can think of (ha!). I don’t want to be a downer, or anything, but if I don’t go out then I’m never going to get out of my current funk. Everything feels like it has stopped in Black Hill. Black Hill is such a lovely place, but I cannot pretend I ever want to live here again. As soon as I leave this time I am determined not to come back.

I would also escape from living beneath the thumb of my mother, which I don’t really resent for any reason other than the fact that it is there at all. I can’t understand how people haven’t all left home, and I don’t understand how even my older brother returns home every summer to live under someone else’s roof. College doesn’t really give me the responsibilities of actually living on my own, I do realise that, but it’s not like someone needs to know where I am, it’s not like I need to be responsible for anything except me because it’s not going to hurt anyone else.

Most importantly, I guess, is the fact that I just absolutely miss Sydney.  I have loved Sydney to death since I saw it, and I have never wanted to live anywhere else. Despite what my resume may have implied (and I am sorry to my previous employers!) I never ever even wanted to go to University anywhere else, I never even applied to a University that wasn’t USyd (only two courses, unluckily one was the one I had accidentally been accepted into) or UTS. I want to go home.

I miss mostly living in the centre of everything, of feeling like the entire campus was mine, of lying in parks reading, of spontaneously deciding to be somewhere and then actually get there within ten minutes. I miss my friends from Sydney, and although they won’t all be back, they won’t be gone forever. The roar of Sydney traffic on Parramatta road is my heart beat, and I don’t know how I live without it. I stopped waking up to car alarms, and horns, but instead I can hear birds and cicadas, and it’s really driving me mad. Sydney doesn’t hold my greatest memories, lately, but I’m willing to forgive it and to find something else I can look back on without the inevitable straining of my chest.

The familiarity of Sydney somehow overcomes everything I was so used to in Black Hill, which is a weird experience. I can’t wait to return. It’s going to be scary, but it’s going to be nice.

I think I need to remember who I know in Sydney and maybe talk some stuff through, because I don’t know why but I feel confused.

Less whimsically, and with more sense than such ramblings, I haven’t really mentioned my brother’s twenty-first party, which was on Australia Day. I didn’t really want to spend my entire day with a group of people that would most likely be my younger brother’s basketball cronies drinking illegally, so I went to a picnic with Grace, Jack, Rachel, Andrew, and Maddi, which was weird, as I haven’t seen her at all since I finished school. That was nice. Somehow, despite sitting in the shade I got my back entirely sunburnt. I think that it was actually quite bad because I felt it sting in the middle of the night for days. That’s probably not the most encouraging sign. I’m almost scared to sit outside, but the sun is so inviting!

Later, I came back home, but didn’t go outside for a while. What am I to talk about with a bunch of boys? I am not exactly the most extroverted girl. Then Renee came, with her sister and sister’s friends, who, incidentally I adore. I went outside, and it was just nice. It was completely relaxed, I wish all parties that I went to were like it. Drinking was present, obviously, but it wasn’t the focus. I don’t know why, but I am not really inclined to drink at the moment. Who knows what will happen? College doesn’t exactly breed abstainers. It’s not like I am going to be pressured into it, though. I’ll probably just do it when I feel like it again.

I spent alot of the time talking to Renee because it seems so hard to pin her down alot of the time. I also spent a while talking to formal date Ben, who is my brother’s ‘number two best friend’ (quoted quite literally). He’s so nice, and unbelievably tall! He is formal date Ben because he was my formal date, Ben, for the College formal last October, and he was taller than me even in my highest heels, which was encouraging, to say the least. He’s such a good guy, although essentially my older brother is too even if he does seem to hide away from commitments, and tends to be a manwhore. He was really easy to talk to, I almost wish he didn’t live in Wollongong (ha!). I’m not very serious about caring, though, my brother doesn’t even know that we kissed. I don’t know what he’d think, it could be awkward. I’m not sure that he even likes me in any particularly special way because I’m always worried that my brother’s friends are all just like my him, although probably not. Who knows? It’s almost entirely irrelevant.

I’m not sure what the point of this post was, really, I just suddenly needed to type things into the faceless audience that I pretend reads this at some point. This whole system would work just as well if no one read it, I just have a new found love for writing senseless drivel and sending it into the great unknown. I would love it more if I was anonymous, although I suppose that I essentially am. James knows who I am, obviously, and he linked it from his blog, so all of the people that link from there know who I am (which is probably why they even click the link..) but none of the rest of my life knows that this is here. And it’s nice. I like to share a piece of myself without really wanting anything in return.

Why being Really Lonely can sometimes be Super Awesome

Unfortunately this is not JD’s latest blog entry. Fortunately I have season six of Scrubs to watch right now.

Super fortunately I’m moving back to Sydney on Sunday. Super super fortunately I am going to befriend the American girl who is going to live next door. Super super super fortunately I’m enrolling at UTS on Monday so it’s going to be super official. Super super super super fortunately I’m fricking excited.

For excessive use of the word frick blame Elliott Reed.

It’s just seven days, but it feels like a week

So, Heath Ledger was found dead just about three hours ago. That’s kind of weird.
I don’t usually find that celebrity deaths are shocking. Steve Irwin had been poking animals for years, one was going to poke back, Anna Nicole Smith had issues from birth I guess as far as the public knew, and I don’t know, but it seems odd to me that this time it was Heath Ledger. Although, he’s bound to become the epitome of a tragic superstar in the manner of River Pheonix or James Dean. His films were explosive pieces that are sure to reverberate throughout the subconsciousness of the film industry.

I’m almost jealous. He died young and stayed pretty.
I’m kind of scared of getting old.

I am sick of being the same person that I was last week, because unbeknownst to me it wasn’t even working out then. Today I’m going to go do something to change myself, and hopefully something will help me move on.
I hate that I know something has to go forward but I don’t have the oppurtunity to even try yet. Bring on February.
I’m not going to miss you that much.