Thursday, January 27, 2011

Growing Up.

Something that I have only just begun to come to terms with is how quickly I am growing up.  I know growing up is something that must happen eventually, but when it does happen, we find ourselves wishing we could be children again;
in a world of sunshine, lollipops and rainbows, where we could play in the dirt and eat worms all day long without being judged by those around us.
But we wouldn't dream of doing these things now..  That would be social suicide!
- This is one of the things about childhood that I miss the most.  The way that all children accept one another, just the way they are.
Even the one sitting in the corner eating play-dough.
(Yeah, 12 years ago that kid was me.)

This is something I observed last year when I did my work experience at the local Prep.  I dealt with my fair share of children with snot dribbling down their faces and even some with a rather keen appetite for glue; but no matter how freaky some of these children were, to my astonishment, they all had large groups of friends.  When I compare this to the social situation at my highschool, it's crazy to think that we all used to be that accepting.
Nowadays, people my age ridicule anyone who's the slightest bit 'different' and start nasty rumours and only ever hold hands when they're dating.

To be honest, growing up has always been one of my biggest fears.
One of my favourite books as a child was Peter Pan.
The idea of escaping from all responsibilities and hassles of every-day life to a place where I could stay young forever always appealed to me.  Of course back then I didn't fully understand the moral of the story as I do now.
But I can always find comfort in the realisation that no matter how many wrinkles I acquire, to some degree, my childish immaturity will always be in tact.

So, the moral of this post is:
Hide yo' kids, hide yo' wife and hide yo' husband,

And more importantly, hold onto your childish immaturity with all your might.  Because who needs acceptance from snooty popular people!
Your true friends will love you for the freak that you are.

Sunday, January 23, 2011

A Birthday To Remember.

We all have that one moment in our lives thus far that stands out as the single most terrifying moment we have ever experienced.
Without further ado, I will now tell you about mine.
About a month ago, one of my best friends decided to have a sleepover for her birthday and invite all of "us girls".  It was approaching midnight and we were having a great time just sitting around the dimly-lit living room talking and gorging ourselves on lollies.  We we were all keeping an eye on the time, as we were anxiously anticipating the hour of midnight, as our friend would finally be 17.
There were ten seconds...
All of a sudden, we heard a creaking noise, so we all turned our heads just in time to see the door behind us slowly opening.
And within a second of this happening, all of the lights went out.
Now, I'm not usually much of a screamer..
But I screamed so loud that I had tears in my eyes.
In my defense, I really thought I was going to be killed..!

I wasn't the only one screaming though.
All five of us were hysterical.
My flashlight was sitting on the table in front of us, but I was too scared to reach over and turn it on.  WHAT IF THE PSYCHO KILLER GRABBED ME..!
So we just sat there in the darkness, all huddled together on the couch, too afraid to utter a single word.  ..Which, now that I think about it, doesn't really make sense, considering how loudly we had screamed.

A couple of minutes later, the family came to our rescue.  I can only imagine how freaked out they would have been when they heard us all screaming.  But it turns out that it was storming profusely outside, and the power going out was merely a result of a massive tree falling on the power line.
Nevertheless, we didn't go back downstairs until morning.
Unless we needed to pee.
(The bathroom is downstairs.)
The creepiest thing about that night was that all of this coincidentally took place at midnight.
Oh, and I think it would be kind of ironic to die in a living room.
But despite us all fearing for our lives, it was still our best sleepover yet!

Now, for some audience participation:
What's your most terrifying moment?

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Life's Greatest Mysteries.

So my best friend Jackie and I thought it might be fun to write a blog entry together!  (Check out her blog!  She's rad. )

Sometimes, when we're feeling inquisitive, we find ourselves pondering some of life's greatest mysteries:
  • What is my purpose in life?
  • Is there a God?
  • Is any of this even real?
  • ..Am I real?
  • Who let the dogs out?
  • Was it the same inconsiderate bastard who stole the cookie from the cookie jar?
  • Are we human, or are we dancers?
  • Why do we refer to night time as "after dark" when really it comes after light?
  • Can one simply walk into Mordor?
  • Does expecting the unexpected make the unexpected become the expected?
  • How did the Flintstones know about Christmas?
  • We all dream...  But do we really dream?
  • If the world will end in 2012, in which time zone will it end?
  • What would happen if Pinocchio said "My nose will now grow"?
  • If a person with a split personality threatens to commit suicide, is it a hostage situation?
  • Is there an actual purpose to this blog?
Yes, there most certainly is.
Life can sometimes be as hard as trying to fathom just how the hell Catdog manages to poop.
(Yet another of life's great mysteries.)
The truth is, you can never be sure of what life has in store for you.
It's amazing how much can change in just one day.

...Imagine this.
You are a pilot.
You are flying a plane.
Your day is off to a great start.
You had a perfect take-off, you haven't experienced any turbulence; you're a happy little Vegemite, as bright as bright can be.
Suddenly, the plane you're flying suffers an engine failure and your plane-load of passengers begin rapidly plummeting towards the ground below.
You are aware that the plane has a back-up engine that you can activate.
You also happen to be aware that every single passenger on the plane is a convicted felon, all of whom have been sentenced to death.
Here, you find yourself faced with two choices:

Choice A:  To activate the back-up engine, regain control over the plane and arrive safely at your destination; thus maintaining your flawless reputation as a pilot.
Choice B:  To sacrifice yourself in order to ensure the deaths of each and every criminal on board the plane.  You would die a hero and go down in history.

Basically, what you should take from this somewhat ridiculous analogy is that in some cases, there is no easy choice.

On an unrelated note, sign language is awesome!
Last night Jackie and I decided to teach ourselves how to sign a sentence or two.
As of yet, my favourite word is "bacon".

Friday, January 14, 2011

Fat Lip.

Earlier today, I somehow managed to bite my bottom lip.
I was a little annoyed, but I didn't make a big deal out of it.
I mean, it happens to the best of us.
Anyway, I went and looked in the mirror about 5 minutes ago, only to find my bottom lip swollen to the size of ... [insert a a clever word/phrase comparative to the size of my swollen bottom lip here.]
Let's just say, it looked kind of like this:

Minus the beard and manface.

Well perhaps that was a not-so-good example.
But you get the general idea.  Thank you, Google Images.
What makes matters worse is that I am going for my Learner Driver's Licence on Monday, and (providing that I get it), I will be photographed with a bottom lip the size of my head.
And it won't just be a normal photo that I can untag in the vain hope that it will never be seen by the eyes of anybody with whom I have anything to do with.
I will have to carry it around inside my wallet for a whole year.  And sooner or later one of my friends will be sure find it.
And from that day on, I will be known as "Fat-lip".


My lip will have completely deflated by Monday and I won't have anything to worry about.  Apart from looking like a dead stoner in my Licence photo.


I will fail my Learners test and have nothing at all to worry about!
Until the following day when I sit the test again. -___-

Thursday, January 13, 2011

Buy Me This & I'll Love You Forever.

It's kind of sad how hard it's becoming to just let nature be nature...
Nevertheless, I MUST HAVE THIS.

Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World.

"This song goes out to the guy who keeps yelling from the balcony.
It's called "We Hate You.  Please Die.""
I am head over heels in lesbian with this movie.
  • It's based on the comic book series "Scott Pilgrim" by Bryan Lee O'Malley, yet it is so deliciously different to the average comic book-based movie.
  • It's from the director of "Shaun of the Dead" and "Hot Fuzz", which are both brilliant!
  • It stars Michael Cera and his typical geeky, socially awkwardness that I adore, yet in this movie he is so much more badass.
  • He is in a band called "Sex Bob-omb".  And they play songs that make people think about death and get sad and stuff.
  • Young Neil is adorable.
  • Kieran Culkin makes the best gay roommate.
  • It references so many awesome things that I love.
  • People explode into coins.
  • 'Ramona Flowers'' character kind of reminds me of 'Clementine' from Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.  And I love that movie. :D
  • Each one of Ramona's evil exes has their own quirks and are hilariously intent on ending Scott Pilgrim.
  • It's like the best movie ever!

"Oh my God..  You punched the highlights out of her hair..


So I'm just munching away on my toasted sandwich at 1:57 in the afternoon, when the thought occurs to me that the word "Brunch" is somewhat unnecessary.  
The term "Breakfast" is made up of the words break + fast.  "Break", meaning 
'a disruption or interval' and "fast", 'to temporarily abstain from food'.  
So essentially, Breakfast is a disruption or interval in one's temporary abstinence from food.
Going by this definition, every meal should be called "Breakfast".
But I can see how that could get confusing.  Friendships would be ruined; relationships destroyed.
People would arrive at eating venues expecting to meet their associates for "Breakfast" and get uber offended when they don't show up on time.  
Utter chaos would ensue.
But to avoid this confusion we could number our meals:
Breakfast 1
Breakfast 2
Breakfast 3
Breakfast 3.5 (For those who love to snack.)
Breakfast 4
And even Breakfast 5!
That would save us the effort of remembering all the alternate meal-names.
Morning tea, brunch, lunch, afternoon tea, dinner, dessert, midnight snack attack, AND THEN THERE ARE THE SYNONYMS.
It's just too much.
Less words = More brainspace.
That's enough blogging for now..  I have to Breakfast.
That's right.  I used Breakfast as a verb. ;) Ch'yeaahhhh.

Saturday, January 8, 2011

Wouldn't It Be Crazy...

Wouldn't it be crazy if what we consider to be 'life' was just one highly advanced game of Sims, and each and every one of us was merely an avatar being controlled by some unknown being...
We may very well have been programmed to think that we feel feelings and smell smells.  When we play video games, for our controllers, it's kind of like a video game inside a video game.
Our controllers could be responsible for ensuring that we eat, drink and exercise in order for us to stay alive.  (Kind of like Tamagotchi! :D)
If this is so, then my controller is responsible for the writing of this blog entry, depicting the immensity of my paranoia.
Thanks a lot, controller.  Now people will think I'm crazy..
(Or rather their controllers will program them to think that I'm crazy.)
..Every now and then, I watch for glitches and dead pixels.
Sooner or later one's sure to show up.
Our controllers are responsible for developing and maintaining our relationships with other avatars (-or destroying them for their own selfish amusement).  Eventually, our controller will select a mate for us and when the time comes, program us to get freaky and have little baby avatars.

...This is what happens when I write late at night.
Thanks for reading. ..That is, if you made it this far.


I think that the reason we treasure photographs is that unlike the people in them, they never change.  No matter how different things around us are becoming, photographs will always stay the same.  (..Unless, of course, they’ve been Shopped.  
..Or they’re moving photographs like the ones in Harry Potter.  
I apologise for bracket-ranting (-the act of ranting inside brackets (Did I just make up a word and define it within a separate pair of brackets?  Damn straight I did.)) but how freaking awesome would that be!  I guess nowadays there are digital photo frames...   That’s pretty cool :D and you can store videos on them so they can be kind of like the ones in HP; but slightly less zomg-freaking-awesome.  The next step is digital newspapers; Where the pictures move and whatnot.  They have them in Harry Potter too D: damn I wish magic was real.)  But, moving back to my original thesis, each photo represents a memory.
A sad truth is that sometimes, photographs are all we have.

Photos can also be used as evidence; and not just to prove criminals guilty.
Evidence that you're not going crazy and that things really did happen.  Because when you think about it, our memories may be far from accurate.  Who's to say that some of your most treasured memories even took place at all if there aren't photos to prove that they did.
(And boom.  Just like that, your mind has been blown.)
It's scary to think about though.. :S

Looking at a photograph can take you back to another place and time where things were completely different to the way they are now.  This can trigger some pretty powerful emotions.  I’m such a crybaby when flipping through old photo albums.  But I enjoy it.  Hell, sometimes I even play some gentle music to add to the mood.  Yeah, I’m pretty much the lamest person alive.  (..Evermore are wonderful.  And Coldplay.  I can’t believe I used to get those two confused. :S)

Some photos just make you wonder “WHAT THE SHIT.”  
The one below is a prime example of this.
Your argument is invalid.

So get'cho film on. Capture moments. Have fun. But not too much fun.
As Howard Moon says:
"We all like having fun, but it's even more fun, when we can have safe fun."

Friday, January 7, 2011

Don't Panic.

Usually when you look back over a year, all the bad things that happened stand out like Robert Wadlow in a room full of midgets.  (He's the tallest man alive.  
I Googled it.)
But when I look back over 2010, it's different.  I can truthfully say that it was, overall, a really good year.  Perhaps it only seemed that way because so many bad things have happened to me that I've forgotten what "really good" actually means, but I prefer to think otherwise.  I'm not that cynical.
But despite how "really good" 2010 was, I still managed to have my annual panic attack.  I guess I bring it upon myself every year by bottling up my emotions to the point where absolutely anything can set me off.  At this time of year, I'm a bottle of Diet Coke and my string of worries, plus the thing that triggers my panic attack, are the Mentos.

Perhaps this is a slight exaggeration.

But I did discover that breathing into a paper bag when hyperventilating actually does help a lot.  I thought it was just one of those things that they do in movies, like flying with jetpacks or falling in love.
(Kidding about the "love" part.  I just said it for dramatic effect.
I totally believe in love! :D
"The greatest thing you'll ever learn, is just to love and be loved in return.")
I feel like watching Moulin Rouge now. :3
But i will later.  I have to finish packing my overnight bag, as I'm spending the night with a friend of mine whose name I cannot reveal (for her own protection).  So let's just refer to her as "Melissa".
And by "finish packing", of course I mean "start packing".