Riddle Me This

How can I??

How can I go somewhere if I don't know where it is??
How can I meet someone if I don't know who they are??
How can I do things or decide to do things when the only thing that's certain is that the future is uncertain??
How can I know what is right until I realise what is wrong??
How can I trust myself to trust myself when I keep failing myself??
How can I go against my instincts for the sole benefit of logic and reason??
How can I want to get away when all I want is home??

Can someone get me a Social Situation Gauge??

Okay, so firstly, a little while back, I commandeered the world's dwindling comma supply for the sole purpose of scattering them around like confetti. Secondly, I emailed High Macleod.... and he emailed me back. It was almost exciting as when Max Gimblett emailed me back. Look him up if you don't know who he is. I assure you he is FAMOUS. For some reason, spending the whole day with him wasn't anywhere near star-striking as recieving an email from him was... maybe cos there were other people there too and he was SUPPOSED to be doing that, as opposed to sending off one itsy-bitsy little email to a silly-billy girl.
Anyway, I was talking about Hugh. The good thing is that while what seems like a gazillion people know Hugh Macleod, he's still at the the stage where he reads ALL his emails and tries to reply. In fact, he encourages it. Cool huh. It's all part of his philosophy thingy.... and besides, I got all happy cos I still find the internet AMAZING. This guy from Texas was talking to me!! Who ordinarily I would never have the chance to know.... isn't technology just grand.

Tomorrow is my younger stepsister's 17th birthday. So her and the older one came for dinner tonight... mum was her usual, gushy self. It sickens me because it's all very well being friendly to your stepdaughters, but she acts like she's still trying to impress them. HELLO. Time for that= SO long gone you could lay flowers on its grave. Their father lives here. The eldest lived here for a month. STOP TREATING THEM LIKE GUESTS WHEN THEY DON'T BEHAVE LIKE THEM!! So, there was this dinner, and mum decided to make a toast (mum's never toasted ME!!) and all that rubbish. The 2 daughters act all weird and sisterly all the time, make jokes between themselves, saying silly things, and for some reason whenever I say anything lighthearted to them (heaven knows I have tried to be nice to them, I really have) they just shut up. Look at me like I have just announced it's time for the family bath. But, dinner was going really well, with no stupid moments like there usually are cos they both think they're the bee's knees, and at the toast mum said something like "and here's to another year!!" and everyone was like "yeah!!" and I said "we hope!!" and laughed. Usually when something like that is said somebody else chimes in with "yeah, if we're lucky!!" or "not if she keeps driving like that!!" etc, continuing on the joke.
But no.
Instead, there was an awkward silence where I realised my social faux pas and desperately tried to make it lighter by saying "heh, sorry, couldn't resist!!". Mum then proceeded to get embarrassed and say "she's no daughter of mine" and scold me (yes, that's right. When they got here she actually asked me if I said hello yet. I had, not that they deserve it. They pretend I'm not in the room and are made more uncomfortable when I disprove this by speaking to them) then spoke in this sickening voice to Madam the Youngest about something or rather.
It pissed me off. I DON'T understand people sometimes.
It's okay tho, because later on mum offered chocolate icecream to everyone and Madam the Eldest said "no thanks, it's dairy" (which she can't eat) and mum goes "oh that's okay, we have yoghurt too". Hahahaha!! Except... that time, everyone laughed.

It would been way better if my brother was there. I felt like the lone tomato in a green salad.

Would you really rush out...

I am writing. I have so, so many ideas. I'm desperately trying to pin them down. But they get jumbled, and bumbled, and mumbled into my ear, and I can't translate very well. The occasional lucid thought that ends up a well-formed opinion is frantically scribbled or typed (depending on my frame of mind). But yes, it's getting out there and down there and around there.

I have an issue, though. Once they're out, they have no purpose. They don't know what to do with themselves. They just sit around. It's frustrating. I wish they could run free. But on which road??

Somebody, please, sort out my issues for me. It's too much.

I can play one song on guitar.

As I speak to you this evening

Not sure what to write at the moment. Head slightly fuzzy. But want to write something. Sick of staring at terribly bright screen with eyes that complain worse than a chained-up puppy. But want to release little voices that scratch and claw at my skull.
It's your typical Catch-22.

Anyone got any ideas??

Slipped on a Banana Peel

Man alive, the wedding has come and gone and we're all back to our somewhat exhausted selves. I slept solidly last night (not liquidly) and I still feel like death. I think the best part was meeting all the new people. I LOVE new people. I don't love people who I've already met and then they change into other people I don't know, cos that's just weird, and people should only be people, not masks.

But there were some very genuine, fantastic people that are attached to my new stepfather and hence now me, and I'm quite glad of that fact. I think EVERYONE should get married just for the social consequences. You see how people behave in so many conditions. You get to know the true essence of people, you see their core, because of the huge variety of different social environments we're all smooshed into and it's too much to think about how you should react, you just do. Because it's a lot more of behaving rather than speaking, it's very easy to see people. Which is kind of ironic, someone else might say the complete opposite- that a wedding is where everyone stands around plastered with smiles and well wishes and it's a chance to forget who they are and think about someone else for a change, but in my experience, it's not that way. Well it is, but it's not. I'm not sounding very coherent anymore and hardly anybody understands me when I do, so mayhap I should wrap it up in paper and call it a cheeseburger.

It's... Tuesday afternoon and I am STILL wiped out.

I just found a bug in my wine, and then it died.

It drowned in the grapes and was then preserved in the alcohol. Death by cheap grog!! Luckily, it was not large, so the death would have been quick. I fished it out and flicked it away. Survival of the biggest.

What do you think?? Recently, I have been defamed. De-famed, wrongly framed, mis-named and badly blamed. Has it happened once?? Oh no, my friend. TWICE.
I can prove to myself that I am weak as I power through a bottle of ten dollar vino, feel the acid rise in my throat and the regret rise in my head, repeating to myself the same old mantra: "you are ridiculous. Don't do this again. Careful you don't get a horrible habit. Don't do this again". I know full well I will do this again. I also know that it means I'm easily swayed by my own arguments and possibly by others', too (alright, so I'm very impressionable. Take me for granted, why don't you). I know I'm a disappointment to many and that most of my actions prove to be my undoing. However.....

ON MY OWN HEAD SO BE IT.

What gives anyone the right to take me and make me into a scapegoat?? This goat will not scape for anyone but herself or someone of her own appointment, thank you very much and don't trip over the cat on your way out.
It's entirely possible that I'm stupid; I am constantly surprised when life (i.e. other people) turns around and slaps me in the face while I'm looking for the pretty bird it pointed out to me. Then I'm so shocked, because it hurt; and confused, because I want to know if there really WAS a pretty bird; and annoyed, because I really wanted to see that bird, and if there is no bird, then I got excited for nothing, and Life has now run away laughing its head off and I can't ask it the truth.
So I'm left there holding my cheek with an exclamation kinda half flopped out of my mouth, having never had the energy to propel itself all the way to completion.
"Wha...tttt...????"

This happens EVERY TIME. And I still never see it coming, do not realise what's happening at the time, and cough pathetically when it leaves me in its dust!!
When life gives me lemons, I say "Yay lemons!! I love lemon smell!" and sit there smelling their skin while the acid slowly burns through my soul.

These people are bad people. They destroy me with their lies and harassments, when I did not ask for it.

Why??
I don't know... do you??

Are you really that pure, sir??
Thought I saw you in Vegas....
it wasn't pretty
but she was
(not your wife)

but she will wake up wealthy
and you will wake up 45
and she will wake up with baby

there but for the grace of God go I

what am I fighting for
the cops are at my front door
I can't escape that way, the windows are in flames

but I still do believe
and I will rise up with fists
and I will take what's mine, mine, mine

there but for the grace of God go I

- Jenny Lewis with the Watson Twins, "Rise Up with Fists"

Come on, Universe, make me Special!!

So many words that have been deleted. If only the delete button could talk (it would probably talk backwards).

I'm tentatively attempting to start writing songs. I figured it was about time I got my hands dirty instead of just watching and cheering and whooping at the mudwrestling from the stands for so long. Of course I have a lot of the lyrics already penned, and I also have enough musical knowledge to know what sounds good and how to make it so, but as soon as I sit down to the piano I just see an endless highway of black and white keys stretching before me and I know full well how to make them make noise that sounds good, but only up to Tinkle Standards, not Proper Music Standards worthy for other ears. Then I try to sing pathetic melodies and thank god that I only do this when I'm home alone.

Why is it that I hear so many songs by artists I adore that are just one instrument, a voice that isn't even anything special, and lyrics that look dead when you read them on a page but are alive in your ears, and I think they are brilliant and worthy and something I aspire to?? And I also think- wow, I could do that!! Then when I try using my un-special voice and my dead words and my highway instrument they just mush together like a terrible dish using far too uncomplementary ingredients and the high chef tells you to get out the kitchen cos you shouldn't cook for starving children let alone people who are expecting something halfway decent, how dare you think you could succeed in this profession. And then my song which isn't even in the 2nd trimester of development yet but was shaping up to be something acceptable with ten fingers ten toes, falls flat on the floor and is aborted by the sheer force of Fear of Failure. Goodbye, we'll never see you again, little individual.

I think it comes from not being able to play enough instruments. I should be able to play percussion strings brass el-ec-tric woodwind and glockenschpiel all by myself and all at once, then I could write epic monumental pieces of lyrical and notational genuis and everyone will love me because I am oh-so-talented and have such a unique sound. I will be on the other side of the fence, on top of the world, under the influence, around the bend and inside the eye.





I think Hugh is my brain father.

Promotion!! Marketing!! Advertisement!!

Throughout this entire blog there have been a few cartoons (although I feel more comfortable calling them drawings, their brilliant creator describes them as cartoons) slapped at the end of each post, some of them grim, some of them hilarious, all of them fantastic. I first discovered gapingvoid quite a few years ago and saved a lot of the drawings to my computer and throw them in every now and then to emphasise or illustrate a certain post and because I want all the world (or the handful of people who read this, anyway) to see them and appreciate how awesome they are, and because their creator manages to express so many things that I wish I could in the most talented way that I wish I could.
I have recently discovered the name of this mysterious yet brilliant creator, and have added a little doohickey onto the side of my blog, up thereish-------------->
in order to give him the credit that has long been owed to him and which he deserves. So thankyou, Hugh Macleod- you Crazy, Deranged Fool- for unknowlingly helping me along my way in the crazy and mostly anonymous world of blogging and for your fantastic creations. Good luck to you and this post is my little conribution in exchange for you sharing all your brilliant work and thoughts with us.

And now I will unashamedly advertise on Hugh's behalf:
www.gapingvoid.com
www.gapingvoid.com
www.gapingvoid.com
www.gapingvoid.com


Right, now I'm off to find a thesaurus to look up synonyms for "brilliant" and "fantastic" because I don't particularly feel very intelligent using them over and over again, and it doesn't do the subject matter much justice by waffling on like a crazed fan with an addled brain (even if it's self-confessed Crazed Fan with Addled Brain).





Thank You Very Much Mr. Hugh Macleod





It's the lack (Medicated, Drama Queen, Picture Perfect, Numb Belligerence)

Did you know:

whenever I am bullied (alright alright, I mean "gently encouraged") into writing a new blog post I never have any clue what I am going to write about. I ususally just sit here staring at the white space, daunted and missing the inspiration that scampered off quick as a flash as soon as I got to the log-in page. There are many TRIVIAL things I could say, such as:

- the cicadas outside are slowly driving me insane

- the cows who have been weaned from their calves outside are slowly driving me insane

- my mother, bless her, is slowly driving me insane

- my room is slowly driving me insane

- my lack of music is slowly driving me insane

- my lack of talent is slowly driving me insane

- my lack of job and money shouldn't, but really is, slowly driving me insane

- my lack of direction, goals, purpose, drive, being a somebody, life are slowly driving me insane

- myself and everything to do with my life are slowly driving me insane

Kelly comes back tomorrow!!

We are Rainbow Warriorrs, evil come not near...

Happy frigging New Year, everybody. Hope your extra second that they added to Time just before the new year rolled in was an absolute blast, that you kissed the nearest extremely attractive stranger, and in that tiny second of sharing your oral cavity and everything inside it and fulfilling your single common interest at that moment, your hearts burst open and you realised you have found your soul mate and you ran off together hand in hand into the golden glow of the morning sun rising, or a fire caused by misuse of fireworks, to make lots of babies and get married a zillion times over on various different beaches in the Mediterranean, each one better than the last, and the extremely attractive stranger had a trust fund worth an entire city so you can spend the rest of your days rolling around in fields of sunflowers and picking up interesting looking shells outside your beach front mansion that you only use when that horrid man next door hosts his awful week-long garden parties.

As much as I could wish that upon anybody, you probly spent New Year's like everyone else, too drunk to realise that it's anything significant and stuck in your happy place till dinner comes rolling back up again and finds itself in the nearest very thorny bush. I myself did neither of those things, for which I guess I should be glad.

Anyway, you have 2 options now. The first is what I call the "Oops, Forgive My Amnesia/Lack Of Caring" option. You can use this fresh and still clean smelling year to make amends for, cover up, or else just plain forget anything that you might need to- things you would be quite happy to see the back of, for instance. Wave bye bye and cheerio, now let's all have a nice hot cuppa tea before we catch cold. Or there is the "Come Here You Nasty Piece Of Work, You Feisty Beast" option. And that, dear friends, is pretty much self explanatory (who else LOVES that phrase?? I love saying it, it just tumbles out of the mouth so full of grace and ease like silk scarves out of magician's hat) but for those still affected by excess revelling, it means you take the bull by the horns and DON'T see the new year as a convenient excuse to turn your back on things left unconcluded, rather you see it as finally a hefty push towards getting your A into G and sorting shit out, so it won't follow you around like a ball and chain dragging you down into the depths of "Did you ever sort that thing out?? You know, when you did ______ with _____ last year".
So those are your basic options. As for me, I choose what I call simply "Option C". Sit there staring at the ball and chain, hating its weight and clanking, but slightly fond of the old girl as you've grown used to the company; scratching your head and neither turning your back and walking away pretending you can't hear it following, nor walking towards it with a hefty pair of industrial-strength chain cutters. Just sitting and staring and thinking "Hmmmm. What the fuck am I gunna do about this then aye".