The Sad Thing I Call A Love Life.

It’s been a while. Seemed about time I wrote another blog.  

How come I always find myself writing these when I’m upset? Or lonely? Is writing really the only thing that helps me figure life out these days? 

Surely I would have a friend who I can just turn to? To spill out all the shiz and feel like they’re listening...And I know I have a few. But you never want to spoil their super days. You know?  

And what gets me so down, you ask? Well I pretty much took a step back today and looked over my life a little. Yet it’s pretty much my love life that takes the cake. 

Which is weird. Because realistically speaking, a teenager’s love life shouldn’t be of the most importance. 

We should be more focussed on things like growing up, and education, and making sure our future is all lovely. Not on a relationship that’s, let’s face it, probably not going to go anywhere like marriage or anything. And even though I fully believe in all the things in this above paragraph, I still have “love” at the top of my list. Sad, I know. But we’re all made to think differently.

"I’ll always remember my cutesy little year eight love interest with fond memories."

So my relationships. You’re all in for the pathetic goss that comprises my exes?  

Well first up there was Mr Bennett. An outgoing fellow, who pretty much always speaks the truth no matter how much you don’t want to hear it. However, what he lacks in communication and tact, he makes up for in brilliant writing skills, romantic notions (haha see what I did there!!), and a charming personality. 

And even though we kissed more in our “stage” relationship than our actual one, I’ll always remember my cutesy little year eight love interest with fond memories.  

Then there was the lovely Ess Dub. Our relationship didn’t last as long as my previous, but when it was over, it formed a better friendship. One that I’ll look back on when I’m a shrivelled granny and go; “that Smallwood guy, he was alright.” I can now talk to him about anything, and I don’t have to worry about him hitting on me or anything, because been there, done that. 

After Smally came Cammy-Babes. The one I constantly remind as the sweetest guy I know. He always knew what to say and when to say it. I could always count on a pick me up text on a sad day, and a friendly face to turn to when the world was full of hatred. My friends always tell me they hadn’t seen me happier than when I was with him. Yet unfortunately, relationships don’t survive on romantic texts and chats over msn. So with the lack of non-virtual meetings, I had to call it off. 

Now I know what you’re thinking. “So you’ve had a few exes – what’s the big deal?” But it’s the love interests that never did evolve into a relationship that wear me down.

"My friends always tell me they hadn’t seen me happier than when I was with him."

And I’m not just talking about the bad “mistake” hook-ups or the guys who become obsessed with you no matter how many negative signals you send in their direction.
No it’s the ones I fall for that really fuck with my brain.

Like years ago, when I had a crush on my best friend’s ex-boyfriend (bah – ridiculous I know) only to have him palm me off with a fucked up excuse about his sexuality, then going off with some chick like, four days later. You could at least tell the truth if you’re going to reject me. Seriously.

Then there’s the fact that the guy I used to look up to, and really, really, really, like, has been the one who has not only broken my heart twice, but “lead me on” (if you can even call it that) numerous times despite the presence of a third person (being the girlfriend).

Then there’s the one who had assured me that he was interested (and oh how the feeling was mutual!) but then right as the crush goes to escalate to relationship, he informs me that he has chickened out and is not ready for a fucking commitment. Only to re-inform me four weeks later that he has changed his mind. Yet as it goes, so had I, and I was just no longer interested.

Then there’s that lovely bloke who is my cousin’s mate. I was introduced, and we hit it off, and I thought he too was pretty genuine. Someone I could rely on. Someone I could trust. But like everyone I get close to, it fucked up – and I was back to ground zero. Okay. So this last one was a little exaggerated. It’s okay now. But bro – it hurt. It still does.

So that’s it summed up. Of course, if I had mentioned those “accidental hook-ups”, you’d know more of where I’m coming from here, but I don’t exactly kiss and tell. Well, I probably do to my nine best friends. So if you’re not one of them, hopefully you’re out of the loop. Hopefully.
   

’m just sick of being fucked around. It’s old, okay?

Forever Defined.

All this demand on subject selections and work experience. It really makes you think. What do I want to be when I finish high school? I say “be”, because your future career is how you are usually defined as. Even in introductions; “and this is Lachlan Bennett – he’s a published author” or “meet Tara Deith – she helps run one of the top non-profit wildlife veterinary hospitals in Australia.” Or even if you’re lucky enough to be on the Biggest Loser or Survivor, underneath your name whenever it pops up will be “Shannen Potter – Television Reporter.”
 

Like it or not, we will be forever defined by what we chose.  And you’re probably not going to want to be stuck with something that will bring down that first impression or demoralise your character.
 

So is now the moment which will affect our futures? Do these last few years in high school really influence how we will shape ourselves in our adult lives? What if you have no idea what you want to be?

All this pressure from friends saying they have this massive plan. How they’ve mapped out their lives to every specific detail. And you’re left sitting in the dark.

"Like it or not, we will be forever defined by what we chose." 

And what if you push through those things dragging you back? What if you finally reach those spectacular dreams? What if you finally get there and it’s not what you want to do for the rest of your life? Then what? Must you start all over? Go to your “fallback” option which was just as heinous as the first?
 

To be thinking about these things is not exactly what I wish to spend my teen years doing. I’d much prefer to live life to the fullest and think about the now. But how can I possibly do that with all these interruptions from parents, teachers, even professionals telling me that that’s not the way to go. I’m so over it.

People keep telling us that as long as we want it enough, we can be whatever we chose. So is it just our wants that keep us from reaching our dreams? Or is life more complicated than that?

The Swordfish.

All the good ones are either taken or gay. That's the saying right? Any guy who is worth dating already has a girlfriend or likes the opposite gender to what you are.
Well that's been true on some occasions. But for me, I find that nearly every guy I seem to crush on always turns out to be a total player. Or a "Swordfish" as Tara calls it. Someone who is just looking for a one night stand or a fun hook up. No commitments. No strings attached.
And the thing is - I constantly continue to fall for them. And they always end up walking all over me and leaving me broken and empty. So why do I let them get to me? And why do I keep chasing after them? That's always been a mystery. I guess it's just "my type". Like if a very attractive, reasonably nice guy came up to me and asked me out I'd probably turn him down with an excuse such as "Sorry, I only go for complete douche bags."
But then I think the reason I keep going after them is because I like the thrill of the chase. Or the race in some cases. But the thing about races is that in the end you are either a winner, a loser, or you're that one who was so close to the end but then crashed into the tyre stacks and died.

So what's been going on in the world of Dannie? How's that repetitive day in day out cycle we like to call life?
Well my dear readers, life has been mellow for the past few weeks, with some awesome highs and no lows - more flat lines.
At the moment my world has consisted of drama drama drama. Mostly in the literal sense - with rehearsals for both Gang Show and the Drama Festival reaching stress level. Know your lines; speak clearly; face the front; don't fidget; be the character; use actions; project; diction; diction; DICTION! The words just spin in constant spirals in my brain thanks to the many screams from the prod team and my drama teacher from day one. But maybe I'm lucky I'm not Smallwood - who is still being yelled at and let me tell you - it's not exactly helpful hints ("Smallwood I'm going to KILL you!!"). And I must mention that I am at least a little disappointed that the supposed stage kiss I was going to get turned out to be a "leap into his arms" - which I find annoying since I happen to be quite weight self conscious.

"Sorry, I only go for complete douche bags."

Then of course there was our road trip to Albury to see their  Gang Show. It was good to hang out with WOO Crew + Sarah for a weekend and I suppose I had fun but those seven hour car trips were soooo long...but at least we were invited to their afters. Without that invite I might never have met the lovely Mr Spinelli :P

And now my birthday's coming up. Nearly a month away and it's party year - yet the grog is for "18+ only" says mother dearest. But that's alright - as long as I get a theme I'll be happy. Yet Tubsy is making that hard because we're sharing the party and she wants a cop out theme like "a splash of pink and purple" whereas I had my heart set on "stereotypical high school cliques". I think we have now settled on "Good vs Evil" but that will probably change within the next week. If you have any awesome all out themes then do let me know!

I am also excited about work expierience in August. I'm going to Tucky's mum's vet for the first week, and then Taronga Zoo the next week working in the reptiles section. I'm just happy I get to work with the turtles :)

Ahh well now I'm just rambling. So I should probably sign out before I embarrass myself more than I do when an incredibly-hot-player-guy walks past Boost Juice.

Ta Ta For Now.
xx Dannie

Shit Cake.

Black. Not so much the colour, but what you see when you close your eyes. But then you stare closely through the darkness, and you can see the little colours and speckles that dance around. It's as if these little lights are just waiting for you to reach out. To catch one in your hand so that it can explode and make everything bright again. That's all I can think of when people are asking me how my life is at the moment.

Why so glum you ask? To that, I have no answer. The best way of explaining it, is of course through one of my many analogies. "It's like I'm a poor kid. And for dessert I only have this chocolate cake. Then one day, I am given a really expensive cake. Cake that is soft and rich with icing and freddo heads throughout it. And as soon as I've had a fair share of this new dessert, it's suddenly taken away, so that your stuck with the old cake; the one that seemed perfectly fine before, but you now see how crumby and dry it was."
For those of you who totally don't get it: the cake is my life, and I had an awesome moment in it, but then that high was over and I'm back to normal again.

I know. I shouldn't live by this cake analogy forever. Why live in the past wanting what I used to have? But I can't help it. And I hate the state that I'm in. Where nothing seems all that funny and I can't even offer a smile to my best friend - trying to cheer me up in all my lessons.

Today in health we learnt about stress; how too much of it can lead to depression. That's probably it you know. Stress. Stressing about school, expectations, pressure, friends, family, relationships (why does everyone need to be paired up?), money, work, the future, life.

"Why live in the past wanting what I used to have?"

So I dunno. Maybe lay off for a bit? And when I say nothing's wrong, I mean it. There really is nothing wrong. I'm not in great physical pain, my family isn't falling apart, I probably have it better than many of my friends. Maybe I just like to complain. I don't even know why I'm posting this blog. Is it because I'm bored? In a writing mood? Do I need to get everything out of my head and see it written on screen? Or is it a just plea for help I don't want but probably need? I can't tell you the answer. Because I seriously have no idea what's going on.

So don't come up to me and go "are you okay?" Because the chances are I've already been asked that question eight times that day, and have said the same answer each time. Then you will of course say "come on, something's up." And I will look at you, and say the same thing I had just told you. Because even though I just want to curl up and cry, I won't. It's not normal to be human. In this day and age, it's unacceptable to express your emotions. You just have to pull on a mask and face the day with a brave face and perhaps a smile. Even though sometimes it's too much to even muster up the courage.

Whoa is me.

A Feeling Of Sentimentality.

When someone you love dies, it feels like the world is crashing down.
 

Nothing someone says to you can cheer you up; and everything people do brings you down.
 

You realise that there's nothing you can do to bring that person back, and you find yourself snapping at people who tell you that "they understand how you feel" when in reality, no one does but yourself.
 

For ages you go through the seven stages of grief: shock; denial; bargaining; guilt; anger; depression; then finally, acceptance and hope.

"No matter how much you want the world to stop, it keeps turning."

A few people go to therapy. A few dedicate the next couple of months to that person, from visiting the grave weekly to making collages full of that dead friend's face - to remember the good times - you'll tell yourself. But the real reason is so that you can't stand the thought of forgetting how that person used to look.

The remaining people just trudge on through life, knowing that that space inside them will be empty forever, but eventually put to the side.

Then comes the sad truth that we all eventually realise. No matter how much you want the world to stop, it keeps turning. There's still letters in the mail; a pet that needs to be fed; a dishwasher that still doesn't work; homework that needs to be completed. It's just the sad sad truth when you feel like your life is like an island in an ocean of diarrhea.

Encore.

The hardest part is waiting. Everyone has those jitters and no one can quite keep still; yet everybody is still motionless enough to keep an ear out for the first of many people arriving on the other side of the curtain. No-one’s allowed to take a peek at the audience, although I’ve seen a few doing it while the producer isn’t looking.
There are so many people much more nervous than me though. The proof is on everyone’s faces – and in the side stage “chunder bucket”.

There are kids sitting on the risers with scripts in their hands – merely repeating that tricky little sentence of dialogue that gets them every time. At centre stage are the choreographers with the younger kids – showing them just how to turn and silently yelling at little Justin who waited until opening night to tell them he doesn’t know the chorus movement.

I walk out the side door and head towards the dressing rooms, holding my breath as I walk past two very attractive seniors having their last cigarettes for the night. I soon immediately become thankful to the make-up ladies for applying blush, as the blonde one winks at me. I duck my head and keep on moving. “Curtains open in 10 minutes” I hear someone in the background yell.

"The proof is on everyone’s faces – and in the side stage chunder bucket."

The hallway to the change rooms are in a fury – there is a young girl crying in a phone, screaming to her mother that she had had her costume when they had gotten into the car. A boy about twice my size is holding singing warm ups for those soloists who need the last minute tune-up before the big night, yet most of the notes I hear are not ones I would pay to listen to.
There are people rushing past me with shoes half on grabbing their stage props as they go – these guys obviously have mic-checks before the show. I shake my head and give a smile at my friend Denise who, as always, has made another huge hole in her tan stockings, and is busily trying to stop the rip with clear nail polish.

I finally make it to the female dressing room, where the chaos was surprisingly at its minimum. I smell the toasty warmness of the hot chocolate on the bench, and the entire universe can hear the welfare lady urging us to put jackets over our costumes before we all “catch pneumonia”.
I can see good luck cards and bouquets of roses all over the place, mainly from eager parents wishing their child good luck.
It all reminds me of my kindergarten jazz recital – the first time any of us had been on stage. I can still remember the sea of families grinning up at us, proud that their child doesn’t have to watch the instructor doing the movement below the stage.

Then there’s that voice again that brings me back into the present: “Curtain opens in two minutes people! If you’re not down there now then you’re not on stage!”
My long Victorian skirt swishes along the floor as I collect the final prop from my bag – a lacy cardboard fan – and race back up to the stage. I can hear the orchestra start their overture that makes the crowd more anxious to get the show started. I take the hand held microphone from the tech team and walk to the middle of the stage. The stage lights dim immediately as the audience applauses the band, and the dancers take their places behind me. I take a breath and get ready to sing my heart out and steal the show.

The curtain opens, and the heat of the spotlight on my face is amazing, and the watchful gazes from the audience is so intensifying, that the moment is truly perfected when I open my fan and see the words written in the scrawl of that blonde senior boy;
"Break A Leg"


[This was a descriptive piece I wrote for English]

Graffiti Rant.

Hello fellow readers I'm back! :)

Thought I'd write another ranting blog. Probably one not as controversial as my previous post haha.

Well every day on the bus to school we go past so much graffiti and it really pisses me off when I see the men with their little vans scrubbing all the paint off walls. I'm not pissed that they're removing it - I'm pissed that there is actually a need for those kinds of jobs to exist!

And what do these lads n lasses actually achieve from tagging everything huh? Do they think they are so cool because they sneak out in the early hours of the morning with their lil spray cans n "tekkies" or whatever. Most these kids are probably shit at school and this is all they have. But seriously. If they pulled their heads out of the ground and just TRIED to understand, then their grades would improve and they might actually have a good future. One that doesn't involve a fast food frier all their lives, prostitution or even the jerk who never says "have a nice day" at the toll booths on the highway.

"Not that they're probably bragging about every lil texta mark they're making on a school desk"

And okay, I'll admit: the graffiti art on the train lines are reeallly cool sometimes when they're all coloured and awesomified. But no one ever "awed" over some stupid "212 boyz" tag on a street pole. It's ridiculous and kind of embarrassing for anyone in the pennant hills suburb actually. Do this "gang" think they are like the bomb because they're too cowardly to come out and say "oh by the way, we're the douche-bags that are making pennant hills look like a dog kennel". Not that they're probably bragging about every lil texta mark they're making on a school desk.

And wat's with PMK? Lol they're so stupid they think they're amazing because they write their work everywhere. But they're the under-dogs and even if I was given money to join, I still wouldn't become one of them because I'd just be embarrassed to be seen with a bunch of loser nobodys who are going to wind up with jobs that no one wants. Haha "Penno's Most Korupt"? Learn to spell ;)

And I also understand that some of these poor kids do actually have fucked up families/parentals with aggression and all that jazz and sure maybe they have an excuse but come on - it doesn't always have to resort to this kind of thing! You can bunk in with friends, see counselors, etc. And talking about family issues even to close friends makes a difference. Just don't tag okay people? It's silly :)

Sorry if this bulletin has insulted you because you think you are an awesome tagger. But this is my blog and frankly - I don't care :)

xx Dannie

Religion :S

***First off, if you are sensitive to the topic of religion (more Christianity), I would recommend not reading this post. I am actually a nice person and I accept other people's beliefs, so I think you should all try to hear me out and attempt to accept my beliefs too.***

Okay so basically this time last year, I was content with my spiritual life/self. Then the Christian Ed teacher left and was replaced by a much keener teacher: Miss Grady? lol I think that's her name. (Why do we even have Christian Ed as a subject anyway? It's not a catholic school, and we live in Australia for God's Sake! Seriously, we're as multicultural as it gets! We should have Religious Studies instead!!) Woops..side-tracked...

ANYWAYS, Mr Tav - our first CE teacher, was more easy-going, and wouldn't mind us slacking off. He'd basically put on a nice christian movie or something and tell us a bible story every now and then. But Miss Grady is more interested in seeing that we are all like, saved from Satan. Once she came, I found myself getting all annoyed at Christianity and the ways of it. Before I knew it, my faith in God was slipping and I found myself asking all different kinds of questions in class.

"Apparently God loves us unconditionally, but everything sounds like a heck of a lot of conditions to me."

Miss Grady was also telling us about her church friends who were off in Iraq or something spreading the word of God and converting people. I was appalled by that because sure - it may be acceptable for people to do that in Australia or America even; where the nationalities are more diverse, but in a country in the middle east? Who's to say your religion is the right one? If someone came to me and tried to tell me that my beliefs were wrong and theirs were right and they have proof - the Bible - I would slap them across the face. There is no right or wrong. People should leave other religions alone instead of this converting crap. This is why wars break out. Usually in "God's name" or whatever. Dudes - if you are doing this for God, do you think he'd really want you to murder other people? And for him? It's one of the ten commandments anyway. Geez!

But what really led me away from God was the lesson we were having on relationships, and Miss Grady said "when Sin entered the world, so did things like rape and homosexuality". And I was all "hellooooo? You can't just say those things in the same sentence!!" Seriously. It made me so mad that those two things were basically being linked together in God's eyes. And I believe, that people are BORN with their sexuality. It may just be realised later in life.
Miss also told us that she had a friend who was a homosexual and he is currently taking therapy to change himself and be right in the "eyes of God" so that he can go to Heaven. And I'm all; sure. That's his choice, but can you actually imagine changing whatever your sexuality is just to be right in someone else's eyes?! I think it's pathetic. God should love us for who we are, not who we can be (I love that saying). So yeah I'm not actually a lesbian but I still think this is wrong and this shouldn't be taught at our public schools and stuff.

If anyone would like to try help me understand all this stuff about God and his views on us being the perfect lil un-sinners then feel free to comment and try help me see this from another angle. But before you try to do this, I recommend reading "Change of Heart" by Jodi Picoult. It is a true test for faith - and don't worry. It is written in multiple minds so it's not biased. Like, there's a catholic priest, a man claimed to be the re-incarnated Jesus, an atheist lawyer, and her father; a Jewish rabbi. It was such a good read and it, is my "Bible".

Apparently God loves us unconditionally, but everything sounds like a heck of a lot of conditions to me.