Surprise Olives

It's 7:30pm. I'm sitting on my bed, which isn't made, listening to the sound of rain and researching Olives.

It has suddenly occurred to me that I am very mild. I'm the type of person that has nothing but butter on their toast, and doesn't like the toast to be too well-toasted. One time, I nearly ran over someone at a zebra crossing. They gave me a foul look and I almost cried. I felt like running out of the car and onto the road, while screaming "I'M A PERFECTLY RESPECTABLE PERSON I WAS JUST ABSENT MINDED I'M SO SORRY PLEASE DON'T JUDGE ME".

So there we have it. I'm a perfectly respectable person, who is also absent-minded, and currently listening to the sound of rain while researching olives. I think I'm a lot more mild than Mild Salsa, and possibly on par, in mildness, with Lightly Sparkling Mineral Water.

Although, that stuff is thrilling in my opinion. I accidentally bought a bottle of super-organic local sparkling mineral water instead of the no frills boring water normal shops sell. I didn't seem to think anything of it when I heard the cashier say "sparkling", but when the water hit my tongue, boy did I feel the sparkling!

So I was overwhelmed the first time I had Sparkling Mineral Water. OVERWHELMED. Mind you, it was Surprise Sparkling Mineral Water. And while surprises are romantic in theory, in practice they're usually awful. Surprise Sex is uncomfortable and crosses some lines, Surprise Dates fuck with your timetable and put your whole day out of whack, Surprise Surcharges do nothing but piss you off.

Surprises can be fun, sometimes. Once I bit into a quiche and swore I tasted wine. I enjoy quiche and I very much enjoy wine, so naturally this event embodied the fabled pleasant surprise. After a lot of screaming and glee I discovered that the source of the surprise wine flavouring was the olives embedded within the quiche. And at that point I decided to pursue an interest in and love for olives, because, in my own absurd words, "THEY TASTE LIKE WINE!"

And we're back to olives. Move over Rome, all roads now lead to Olives.

I find it really fucking odd when people say something is olive-coloured. Olives start off a shade of green, and then become a purple-ish black when they're ripe... or may be when they've rotted. Anyway, I have never met anyone with green or "purplish" skin, so I understand the term, "olive-skin".

This annoys me as much as the term "redhead". The term "redhead" refers to a person with orange hair, not red hair. And their head is certainly not red either.

The list goes on. When people tell me about the "miserable weather" outside, I always wish to inform them that "The weather is rainy; you are miserable". I don't know why people feel the need to drag the weather down when they're feeling bad. There is absolutely nothing wrong with a rainy day, or a cloudy day. Just because you're annoyed that the washing won't dry for a week now thanks to this constant rain, doesn't give you the right to drag the weather down with you in your parade of self-pity in some twisted attempt at pathetic fallacy.

There are some things I like, as unusual as that might sound given that all I've down so far is ramble about bothersome circumstances and my sarcastic approach to them. I like olives, as I've already mentioned, twice. I actually like the rain, as detrimental as it is to my attempts to wash things. I like the company of good friends. I like when boys make me giggle.

I'm actually super excited to be moving house. I am only moving a few streets away, but this will be the first house I have ever lived in without my family. It has a nice backyard and plenty of space for herbs and vegetables, so naturally I'm excited.

I think that just about sums up the extent of my mildness. The fact that I am excited by the prospect of growing herbs and vegetables (and fruits!); more than I seem to be excited about moving in with a best friend.

I think it's time to go. So I will, go that is. And so I leave you bewildered and annoyed by the pointless crap I just discussed, with myself. Enjoy some olives.

I don't want a boyfriend I just want a life

Last night I saw a lot of people I hadn't seen in a very long time, and met a few new people. It was the eighteenth birthday of old friend of mine who left town earlier this year to go to uni.

I looked around at the sea of faces. Smiling faces. And then a comment was made about how "It's so amazing how everyone has a boyfriend now". I looked around again at all my friends, boyfriends hanging off each of them. Everyone looked so happy, and as though no matter how shit things were or would become, they had someone else to share it all with; someone to fall back on; or someone to cry to.

I downed Moscato with force and couldn't help but think I'd somehow pulled the short straw. My friends had either moved away to start uni or stayed in town to finish school - and despite their student-induced-poverty and constant greivances about having to study, they were all happy. 

The birthday girl's mother asked me how my love life was going. I didn't snap, and I didn't snap anyone's necks. I answered truthfully, "Nothing's really happenning". She began gathering pity, so I continued. "I was with someone at the end of last year, but he was a bit manic, so I decided I'd rather be alone. I'm so busy and I work so much I hardly notice".

The last part of my response was partly true. I was with someone, and I did call it off. But he wasn't manic, he was just wrong for me, and I'm too stubborn to make things work out with someone I don't even like much. And while I am busy and always working, it doesn't mean I don't notice there's no one there. 

I keep finding myself in tears whenever I'm physically alone somewhere. I'm unhappy. I thought stepping straight out of school and into a full-time job would be worth it. But the truth is, no amount of money is worth more than my happiness. I earn a pittance, work horrific hours, and have nothing to show for it.

It's not that I want a boyfriend. It's just that I want to have a life to live, and something or someone to call my own. I don't want to be the "workaholic" who "can't come". I want too be the life of the party - like I used to be. I want to be brimming with energy and creativity, ideas and things to say.

I feel like I've pulled the short straw and nobody else seems to care. I'm losing my friends and even myself, for minimum wage. Sometimes, you have to back out of something. You have to walk away and close a door. 

I'm at a turning point right now where it'll either get worse or it'll get better. And if it gets worse, I'll quit my job and leave. There's no shame in doing what you have to to look after yourself.

Be kind to yourself.

La Vie Boheme

Okay so it's been quite a while since I last posted on here. Nine months. I could have had a baby. I didn't. I don't have a womb. Or a girlfriend. Not that I want either.

Anyway, hello! I'm back. An awful lot has happenned over the past nine months and I don't really know where to start. I suppose the beginning?

At some point in the year I had a boyfriend. That all started and ended pretty quickly, actually. I probably shouldn't talk about it too much. He seemed sweet. But alas, that chapter has closed.

In about May I started getting involved in the local theatre. After ushering for a few shows, I heard auditions were being held for another show, "All Shook Up". At the time I was as shy as anything and didn't want to even go to the audition, let alone be in a musical. I was almost certain I couldn't sing, couldn't dance, wasn't the world's greatest actor and certainly didn't want to sing, dance and act in front of anyone I didn't have to. But I went to the audition. I did it. I'm pretty sure I turned up an hour late, even though the audition was held walking distance from my house. I'm always late to things. The epitomy of this would have to have been the time I held a barbacue down at the local beach's foreshores, and turned up 40 minutes late. I was the host. It was my barbacue. Yet I turned up 40 minutes late.

Right, the audition. So I went there and sat there shaking until the Director asked me to sing something for her. The only song I'd prepared was an excerpt of "We three Kings of Orient Are". Everyone was really shocked at how deep my voice was and didn't seem to mind that I'd sung a Christmas Carol in the middle of may.

I got into the show somehow as a member of the ensemble. I kept telling myself that I would have to let them all know that I had to leave the show as the pressure of the HSC was too strong. But I never got around to it, and along came opening night. I was running so high on adrenaline I didn't even have the chance to feel nervous or scared. Between when I auditioned for the show and the show's afterparty, I came to several epiphanies.

Anyone who knows me would be very, very sick of hearing about my "existential crises" or "sudden epiphanies". But I'm going to assume you, whoever you are, have perchanced to visit this blog for reasons dark and unknown, and as such don't mind me blabbing on.

Rehearsals started in May after the cast had been put together. I was shy and terrified of everyone and everything. My hair was auburn, and I had a boyfriend. By the time the show ended, all of that was gone. On opening night, we were all slapping each other's arses and undressing in front of each other backstage. And my hair, well, I'd dyed it black because I was sick of having to keep up the dying process. And the boyfriend, well, he was gone. It was good, in retrospect, that we parted ways. Even though I didn't really like him, I'd forced myself to believe that I did. And somehow it still hurt when it all ended. I guess being rejected isn't nice, regardless of who did the rejecting.

He might have rejected me, and other friends might have walked out or faded away from my life, but in the theatre I found sanctuary. I became eerily close to my theatre family over those few months. At one point I performed a less than sober striptease to some of the girls in the cast to Cher's "Welcome to Burlesque".

Anyway, the theatre became my home. I spent more time with the cast and crew than I did with my own friends and family, which felt like a bad thing. But then I came to the realisation that the theatre is what I love. I love performance. I love it.

It's been very difficult for me not to drop out of year twelve to become a full time vagabond. When I found out that auditions for "RENT" the musical are taking place somewhere in Sydney in October I sent off a flurry of excited emails. But then reality struck, and I realised I wouldn't be able to afford constant trips to and from Sydney, and shouldn't be traversing acrossing the country between HSC exams. And I decided I should stay here in my hometown for the rest of the year as it is my last year living here, and some people I might not see again.

Fuck, I'm going to miss everyone and everything about this town. Well, that's a lie. We have our fair share of bogans here, and much less than our fair share of excitement. But I have met the most beautiful people living here, and made connections I don't want to lose. People here have touched me on a deep level and I'm actually terrified and distraught at the thought of losing this connection. Although we all vow to stay in touch, I know that in reality only a few of us will, and the rest are doomed to drift off into the "I used to know" category.

I am truly going to miss this place. This beautiful town full of gorgeous people. It was where I grew up. It was where I first found myself. I learnt to walk, talk, sing, dance, drive and thrive here. I learnt how to be a person, how to be a friend, how to be a lover and how to embrace everything life offers with both arms. It was here that I had my first kiss, my first love. It was in this town that I discovered who I am. I discovered that I might be anybody, or somebody, and that I wasn't just nobody. I learnt to persevere, to try my hardest and to never give up. I learnt when to stop, when to let go, and when to walk away. And I know that moving to Sydney next year is something I just have to do. But I will forever hold this town and it's people close to my heart.

Winter Kisses

Morning Everyone. Sorry for abandoning you for the winter. My reasons were both complex and a combination of "I'm Lazy", "I'm not good enough", & "I don't have internet access".

But I'm here now, and that's possibly good.

Quite a lot happenned while I was offline. I went to a few parties, made out with a few boys, and made some new friendships.

The parties were lovely, but they seem to be getting fewer and further between at the moment. This is either due to my heightening morlality or more likely the fact that it's final exam time at the moment.  Final exams are not fun. Well, I think they are. But they're incredibly difficult, especially English Extension. I'll be blatently honest here & admit that I have not been doing my best in that class. I've failed to read a number of readings, and I creatively bullshitted my way through most of the assessments and tests...

When I sat down to write a six page essay for this subject, using a never before seen question, 5 quotes, and sporadic knowledge of the topic, within two hours, things got more than a little stressful. Add into the mix a piece of imaginative writing, and you have me sweating in buckets.

Making out with boys is another cause of my metaphorical sweat. For some reason, a straight - apparently bisexual male - felt the need to make out with me at a party. He was a bit less than sober at the time, but, nonetheless, I was scared & confused - my natural reaction to people having some interest in me. He'd been asking a mutual friend of ours if this could happen all night and I was shocked that he was so persistently interested in me. We hugged for centuries while I continually asked him what he wanted to do. He made it clear that I had to make the first move - so eventually I did that. When the night wound down and we stopped making out, I ended up sleeping next to him - on the floor - in a room full of boys and a tomboy. He was in terrible state, due to his girlfriend's emotional instability, and I thought I could make it better somehow. But he essentially ignored me in front of his friends, as they discussed women and porn & all sorts of things I had little interest in. I know, he kindof had a girlfriend at the time. But I thought there was a spark. There clearly wasn't, as he didn't care in the slightest about how dangerously close my back was to snapping sleeping on the concrete floor. When I got home, I purged my negative emotions about the fact he really didn't have feelingsg for me - after analysing all the interactions we had ever had for some scrap of hope - through listening to nothing but Sarah Blasko on Spotify. What the Sea wants, the sea will have is a spectecular album to listen to when you want to feel sorry for yourself & dream about what will never happen.

That was months ago. More recently, I had what retrospectively looks awfully like a short fling with a male I became quite fond of. Again, this started at night. But this time, he acted the same in the morning. Long story short, he was hesitant to be in a relationship because he'd be moving at the end of the year, but I didn't give a ham.  Towards the end of us, he dragged me to a bonfire where I nearly froze out in the cold, and despite promising to keep me warm, he hardly touched me. I had a bad night. We ate too late, and stayed up for far too long doing nothing.
He avoided kissing me until he dropped me home the next morning... I knew something was up. He texted me later in the day to let me know  he was becoming too attached and couldn't do this because it would hurt when he moves. He said he still wanted me in his life, although we've hardly spoken since

So now, I'm single, still. I never had a boyfriend per se. Out of the boys I wrote about, the first boy is now effectively back with his girlfriend, and the second boy, I don't even know. I heard mention of him being with someone else now too.

Sometimes, I get that horrible lonely feeling. I get it a lot actually. But I've decided to be happy with who I am, and never let anyone else become the focus of my existence. Although I may let that happen again, I hope not. For now, I've decided to focus on studies and let boys be a secodnary priority.

I'm sure that'll happen (sarcastic tone). But anyway, Spring has arrived, & I'm also going on an overseas trip this holidays. So I've got fuckall to complain about.

P.S. I realise I whinged for most of the post, then said I have nothing to complain about. Bear with me, please

Quickie

Boys: Well, I've now declared myself as a bisexual, so the title's a little redundant. I wouldn't say I'm lonely; just single and surrounded by couples. Seriously. There are three affectionate couples in my presence most of the time. In fact I recently had one of them over. They spent most of the time making out, I spent it playing Age of Empires.

Bitches: There's a noticeable lack of bitches at the moment. There are however a lot of women, and the love triangles are amazing. I'm of course part of one, but on the giving end, not the recieving. And of course I just managed to make unrequited love look like anal sex.

HSC: Well, I'm doing well at school. Most of my teachers are partly happy with me. The main problems are punctuality, being bothered, and losing the very Eastern Eurpoean accent I seem to have when speaking in French.

Jorge

The Summer "HOLIDAYS"

This morning I awoke and plugged my phone into it's charger. Soon after, I recieved a text from a friend. It was apparent that my ex had told her something, and she couldn't tell me. So, naturally, I ended up on the phone to my ex for too long.

Now, I have seven websites open. I've read two blog posts, sent one reply to an email, apologised for last nights laptop crash, and of course wished a friend a happy birthday. Oh and I'm looking up ideas for a friend's birthday party.

The holidays are theoretically supposed to be used for fun and relaxation. But, since their beginning in mid-November, I've done no such thing. Somehow, without having a penny to my name, and without a secured job, my time has managed to be completely filled. I've been on two trips  - one for work experience, the other because, well, Sydney - done an abundance of Christmas gift shopping, and entertained countless numbers of people.

Over the next 48 hours, I will be making up to two dishes, attending three Christmas parties, learning to clean professionally, and having my first paid shift. The two biggest questions I have are How am I going to afford my next trip to sydney? & Which gender should I sleep with at an upcoming sleepover?