Trainspotting

Choose Life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family.
Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers.
Choose good health, low cholesterol, and dental insurance.
Choose fixed interest mortgage repayments.
Choose a starter home.
Choose your friends.
Choose leisurewear and amtching luggage.
Choose a three-piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics.
Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning.
Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking jung food into your mouth.
Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourself.
Choose your future.
Choose life.

Alisha.

The first time I met her, the first thing I noticed were her hands. They were petite, with nail-polished fingertips, chipped and weathered. She smiled the smile that would thaw the coldest of hearts at me and introduced herself. And that was how I met Alisha. She is an amazing woman, proud, and headstrong, but not within reason. She is to concerned now with the well-beings of others to stand up for herself, and this has led to her being hurt by those who would seek to use her. She is someone who would tell you something exactly how it is, and rarely kept anything from you, unless she thought it would hurt you. She stands up for her friends if they are hurt, and would go to almost any length to protect them.
She has grown more than anyone else in the three years I’ve known her. She has matured in a way many thought impossible. Her social hiatus has caused her to grow into being an incredible woman, flawed, but perfect at the same time. Her stubbornness is tempered with passion, for life, and feeling. She is a beautiful woman, with ebony and sanguine straightened hair framing her glorious ivory face. Being shorter than many doesn’t mar her natural beauty one iota, and she maintains an air of dignity where many couldn’t. Of all the people I have ever met, none as so under-appreciated or amazing as her.

morning.

i woke up this morning.
damn. not again.

translations

3 used to equal 3 for me.

now all i see is 2+1.

everything i say is stupid, and i worry it will make you realize how i really don't know what to do.
everything i do is an echo, the neat and tidy ripples of the storm in my brain.
everything i feel is on the edge of a knife, and can change once i remind myself of the truth.
the truth that i don't belong.
and i never will.

10:20 on a Saturday night, and I'm alone, and not even at my own house.
i should be sleeping. everyone else is, or is pretending to.
sometimes i sit back and watch the people around me, and smile when they say things to me, the whole time wondering how long it will be until i feel the knives begin to turn. a lot of people don't seem to realize how choppy my emotions are, and probably don't realize how much everything affects me. and how much everything reminds me of someone. ill be smiling, hear a song that reminds me of something, and i will feel like shit for the rest of the day. the worst part is it is bands i always hear. the Dresden dolls, Paramore, evermore, all amazing people, but they stir up memories. memories that i would rather not have.

when i say "I'm fine", it means i feel like shit, but i don't want you to know.
when i say "I'm going for a walk", it means i can't handle being around anybody for the moment, let me step out and fall apart.
when i say "i care about you" it means my world teeters on the next thing you say.
when i say "i love you" it means just that.
and contrary to popular belief, i am not obsessed with sex. i do not want to sleep with everybody i meet that lacks a Y chromosome.
i read and play video games to avoid the world i live in. and who i am.

i don't like school. i don't like being around people all the time, especially anything with an ASMS logo. i don't like anyone who is unable to see the value in others. i don't like myself, i don't like people who treat others like shit. i don't like backstabbers and i don't like people who can't see when they have done something wrong.

i don't like myself. i don't like who i was, i don't like who i am. people say i have changed, I can't see it. i see redemption in every wound, penance in every bruise. people forgive me.

what they don't realize, is i will never forgive myself.

The unnatainable institution

School is a self professed gateway to the rest of your life. I had always been one with the masses; that someone successful goes to university, and becomes a doctor, or a lawyer, or a brain surgeon. recently, a conbination of curcumstance and good luck showed me a diferent view. school is only the way to kill the first 18 years of your life, and teach you basic social skills. this is not to say i am completely against it. uni still does offer pathways to higher education. TAFE does the same, albiet with less books and more physical work.

i will fail this year. i know it. you know it, and my dad knows it.

three years ago this would have meant i would consider my life over.

now, it appears that there is life beyond failure. next year i want to work, and do coursework at TAFE, on some cert 3 or something that i will choose later. next year is about establishing myself as a human being again. hopefully doing retail at a clothing store of some description, and TAFEing. if this fails, then its full-time work, and ill have to try again next year.

then, it's to TAFE full time, doing interior design, for two years.

then to uni. interior archetecture.

then, my life.

x

(IN)box of horrors.

i cleaned it out today. yes me, the slobby, if not strikingly handsome young man, did some cleaning. so here i sit. on the other side of what ended up being a laborious 2 hour process in which i deleted 2773 unread emails and countless read ones. it's amazing sitting and reading back over them, and trying to remember the kind of person i was when i received them. I still had e-mails from when i was with Emma-may. which may not have been the easiest time of my life, for all involved, including her, i am sure. but i look back, and i see someone completely different who those emails were addressed to. a man with my face and name, but nothing else. then disputes within my old circle of friends, that would eventually lead to the breakup of a band, and the members not talking untill recently.

this leads to two things.
1. - doubts about my character, and how i have changed.
2. - very unsavoury thoughts about oneself.

i think overall this was a very positive experience, and i dont feel so bad about my current situation anymore.

where i used to be was much more fucking dark.

what do you do?

When the world is broken?

When the people you love hurt so bad?

When you feel walled off from those you love?

When the light at the end of the tunnel turns out to be another streetlamp?

When you are caught in helplessness, and imprisoned in inadequacy?

When the world caves in on you, and your shoulders can’t bear it?

When the shadows seem inviting?

When anger and pain become driving forces?

When the only thing you feel you can do is lie in the shower and cry?

Do you know?

Cause I sure as hell don’t.

Does This Look Infected?

So I’m sitting here in my study lesson at 10:00 on a Friday morning, hiding in Terry’s class. Sum 41 is blaring in my ear about some lost love. I’ve come to realize how my blog has just become my own personal bitch-page. Whenever I feel shit or whatever, I will come here and write a blog about my whiny problems. So continuing in fine Calabretto Fashion, I think I will have another long-ass bitch about the world.

The people in my life are amazing. They are always so sad, though the world can be a beautiful place, when it wants to. I have seen places with nothing but mountaintops and fog for miles, and places that are so derelict, that people can barely call it a home. Yet they do. People who have nothing, cherish that small something they DO have, regardless of how destroyed of whatever it is. Poverty seems to come in all forms.

In a day and age ruled by plastic, and metal, people seem less and less willing to look inward, at the people they are, under the commercial bed sheets. These people are ruled by the aesthetic, and have no idea what their life would be like without all the technology they use in their everyday life. The people who have nothing would jump at the chance to have something we take for granted. If you give a impoverished person something like electricity, their lives would be completely changed. We expect to have this kind of thing at our homes, and refuse to live there if it is “inadequate”.

Grow up. People die because they don’t have stuff. The stuff to live, the stuff to succeed. We have that, and we complain because we want more? I’m probably closer to the bottom of the working class, but I know what I need. And what society tells me to need. They aren’t the same. When people begin realizing that

a. Generosity is paramount to global equality

b. Greed is pointless, and just another compensation for personal inadequacies

c. People SHOULD be equal, regardless of creed, race or sex.

Its not the answer, but it is a start.

Life is short. And you aren’t the only one living. There is a world outside of your tiny little safe-zone.

elitists piss me off.

I've decided, I'm not going to go to my formal this year.

I don't want the hassle of having to interact with people i don't want to see ever again after the year is done. people at my school are annoying, and self centred. it wont matter to them, that I'm not there. all they care about is if their 40-something yr old boyfriends or their trophy girls are on their arms. i suppose that's all we really are to most people; an accessory. they only want us around if they find us helpful to their image. it is becoming more and more apparent to me that these people we call friends, that make up the fragments of us, most of the time we have no legitimate reason to have them around, other than to make us feel good.

just before the holidays, someone who i thought was a friend of mine made a personal attack against another that i called a good friend. this angered me, as i rushed to the defence of my "accessory", and was told to basically chose between friends. it is at this point where i began to question the legitimacy of the frendship i was in. if these two people really cared about my wellbeing and how i felt, then they would have said, "okay, we just wont see you while the other of us is there." but the world isnt so quick to come to a compromise. in the end i had to make a chioce, because both people wanted all or nothing. this had a ripple effect on the friendships based on the ones i had to choose between, and many people were angry with me.

im still confused as to why these tertiary friends chose to get involved, as what had happened didnt directlym affect their self image. acutally, maybe it did. these two people would have pushed the tertiaries, saying how i was with "that girl" rather than this one. its for this exact reason that i dont want to be a part of the school society anymore, i just want to get in, do my time, and get out. nothing more.

umm.... what the fuck.

i have changed so much in that last two months it is rediculous. i look back on the day before and it feels like someone else did it. green tea is keeping me from REALLY losing it. My music has all but stopped, as far as playing goes. when i acutally do listen to music now its radically different. where there was once things like nickelback and ACDC, now i see these bands i would'nt even have thought of listening to a month ago. to name two, the manic street preachers, and taylor swift. and yes, i am aware of how swift is seen in the public eye. i dont care anymore. about almost anything. i havent had a decent cry since late last year. i havent smiled and meant it since midway through last year. i feel... weird. im not unhappy with where i am, but i know i can do better.

I have this dream. I wake up in a MASSIVE bed. i look to my left, and i can see the ocean through a wall of glass. it is a deep blue, and if seperated from em by a line of white sand. i get up, and walk dow the stairs, into the kitchen. ther tabletop is dark green marble, with stainless steel itensils and appliances, and the fridge is loaded with food. connected to here is a loungeroom, with a continuation of that glass wall, with cream couches on black slate floors. the sky is slightly overcast, but not enough to block out light. the walls of every room in the house are a light cream colour, almost white. two young kids come sprinting into the kitchen screaming daddy! daddy! and latch themselves to my legs. its at this point where the dream has changed recently. there used to be a woman walking in after the children, laughing and smiling. she isnt there anymore. im not sure what it means, but either way, the fact i still have a family keeps me happy.

im beginning to realize more and more that i dont need people to help me as much as i think i do. im perfectly capable on my own. i think this feeling is causing me to become detathced from people, and as my situation worsens, the less i seem to care. this dream i have is the only peice of motivation i have, and it is basically the reason i can force myself out of be in the mornings. i have been neglecting my blog. i have been writing things down, but not posting them. i have been starting a whole lot of things, just never finishing them.

my life has taken a turn. good or bad, i cant say. but i hope it will at least give me some more direction and purpose. i admire people like my cousin. he is able to devote himself so wholly to an ideal, or in this case, God, with such a vigour i can never hope to match. i just cant put so much (for the lack of a better word) trust in something i can never touch or see with my own eyes. i suppose that is the test though, faith rather than proof, or faith being your proof. i beleive there are times when god has worked in my life, but i dont feel i can ever be "the ideal person" particular group of idealists. i wish i could trust something so wholly and (this may be the wrong word) blindly, but i have trouble trusting people i see every day, letalone someone i dont.

"Your beautiful eyes
Stare right into my eyes
And sometimes
I think of you late at night
I don't know why."

My Beautiful Rescue.

I've been jumping from the tops of buildings.
For the thrill of the fall.
Ignoring sound advice.
And any thought of consequence.
My bones are shattered.
My pride is shattered.
And in the midst of this self-inflicted pain.
I can see my beautiful rescue.

i want someone. someone who is not afraid to hold my hand, and whisper my name at 3 in the morning. someone who loves me, and loves who am becoming. someone who i can call four or five times in one night, just to hear the sound of their voice. someone who knows i am not perfect, that I'm not amazing. just me. and they could still be okay with that. someone who is willing to let me be a part of their life, and do the same in mine. She is out there somewhere. I hope.

I'm falling more in love.
With every single word I withhold.
I'm falling more in love.
With every single word you say.
I'm falling head-over-heels for you.

The world as you know it.

We are born, we live, we mate, and we die. I've never really given much thought to the whole process. if that's all there is to this, then is there a point to even trying? people judge us everyday for the way we look, talk, smell, etc. are we born for nothing more than 80 years of scrutiny, and 15 minutes of procreation followed by a carbon copy of yourself? the lifestyle we have, tells us how t eat, how to drink, how to think. men in suits encourage us to get a job that we don't want, to buy shit we don't need. "Friends" are just the illusion of importance, given to you by someone who, deep down, could not really care less about you and the way you feel, think or act. as long as you suit the image they want for themselves, its all irrelevant (on a brighter note, i seem to have found an exception to the rule).


In the end we are supposed to have divine salvation. heh. it would'nt have to be THAT great to still be a whole lot better than this place. when shit hits the fan, the only person you can really rely on is yourself. not the smirking shadows surrounding you. not the people you once called mum, and dad. not thos people that said they would always be there for you, then left without a word. and not the people who said they would spend the rest of their lives with you. it's all irrelevant, in the end. And the beginning too, it just takes people longer to figure it out. being a cynic means being safe, in todays society. not trusting anyone, means you get let down a whole lot less.

So why even bother?

The way things are.

Do you remember that moment in the morning, when you are neither awake nor asleep?
when you are still a part of your dream, but detached from the world around you?
this is the state of my existence. nothing seems real. everything runs with garish colors, and fuzzes at the edges. everything is right in front of me, yet i will never hold it. Sleep deprivation does that to you. the line between dreams and reality is blurred, and the worlds overflow and collide. being awake, and being asleep join, and there is just time. there is a numbness that pervades my world, and keeps me from feeling the full extent of my surroundings. divorce, unsure ex-girlfriends, none of it matters. I'm finding it hard to care about much at all, myself, let alone someone else.

more as it develops.