“I don’t care;; I have no luck;; I don’t miss it all that much;; there’s just so many things I can’t touch”

I have been told that I am a changed person.
Which is nice to hear I guess?
I think people just forgot that I have the ability to get angry.
And that I have the ability to not freak out over little things.
Even when those little things involve a stench that can only be described as putrid, worms, buckets and a lecture that maybe isn’t so little after all.
I am only going to say this once.
And I will not repeat it anywhere else or say it out loud.
But I am sorry about the fish.
We’re all over it now, yes?
Good.
Actually, suck on that I had fun in the year eleven quad.
And I know I’m not meant to.
But the only reason it was fun is because of the epic cool people I was with.
Julia and lil one I love you to pieces.
I never thought that I could have fun while my hair looks like it wants to eat me, I have mud on my stockings and my skirt smells vaguely of fish.
I was wrong.
I never thought I could miss my train and not die either.
Look at me and all the life lessons I’m learning.
One life lesson I doubt I’ll ever wrap my head around is that whole trust thing.
I seem to be cripplingly stupid when it comes to picking which people I can trust and which ones I cannot.
Basically, I trust everyone.
I put faith in everyone.
I put my heart into any conversation I have, even if it’s with a random on the street.
That’s the just the kind of person I am.
I cannot change, and I’m not sure that I want to.
I know that everyone looks down on me for my silly habits and I know that I’m a source of constant amusement.
But I really don’t give a flying fuck.
I have my lovely hope and it has been strengthened by spending 40 minutes running back and forth with buckets of water with lovely people.
The pond is lovely and clean now.
I would totally swim in it.
Only like… not…
I found it really funny when everyone was pointing at me while I was scrubbing the sides and shrieking in disgust.
I have a particular sense of love for the year ten girl who asked “are you doing that for fun?”
You guys can all say what you like about me, but you cannot deny that I make things just a little bit more fun.
I am going to buy some gnomes.

“I don’t ask for your forgiveness;; I don’t care much for your actress”

I’m an idiot.
I do really really stupid things.
I am too shy to tell people when they are pissing me off.
I lose my ability to speak at pivotal moments in life.
I trust people too much.
I get embarrassed easily.
I have a massive inferiority complex.
And I hate my internet connection because it randomly signs in and out for no apparent reason.
But.
Despite the crappiness of today, which is currently screaming that I should feel bad
I don’t.
I really really don’t.
At all.
In fact…
Even though I’ll probably write a really really emo entry later saying that I take this back…
I’ve come to a decision.
It’s ok to get your hopes up.
Because like 1% of the time things do work out.
A small percentage, but one that works for me.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you;; but my awkward tongue gets in the way;; there’s a thousand things I want to say”

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about all the little things people do.
Stupid things that don’t count for anything really.
Or so one would think.
I recently had my feelings hurt over and over again by someone I considered a very close friend.
And the funny thing is that she hasn’t even realised just how deeply she upsets me.
She just carries on as though everything were exactly the same.
Everything is basically still exactly the same so I guess that’s understandable.
All that really happened was a little thing that shouldn’t amount to anything.
I think about all the stupid little things that I do every single day.
There’s a certain degree of autonomy to everyone’s behaviour, and I wonder how much those silly little things I do impact others.
I am a pretty simple person myself.
I guess I’m a fan of the little things as well.
Someone smiles at me and suddenly I’m in an awesome mood.
Something so little.
I am a shallow and selfish kind of person most of the time, so I guess that sometimes I can make others feel bad just by being myself.
And I hate that.
But really isn’t that the same thing that others do to me?
I remember once, years ago, it was someone’s birthday.
I gave this girl a bunch of flowers, I think at the time it was because I couldn’t think of anything better to give her.
For me it was a cheap way out.
For her, it was just wonderful.
She actually remembered it.
She wrote me a thank you saying that no one had ever bought her flowers before.
I had made her day.
Her birthday.
And it was something so stupid and little.
Just like that friend I have who always shoots me down when I try to be happy but who loves me to pieces when I’m sad.
And even more than that, it’s silly little things like when you’re walking down the street with someone and they link their arm through yours.
Or when you’re lonely and someone who doesn’t usually talks to you comes and sits next to you.
It’s when a friend randomly sends you a funny picture on msn.
It’s a sweet text message from someone you haven’t spoken too in a while.
Stupid little things matter so much.
God and you wonder why I’m so self obsessed…
But my goal for the week is to make the little things count.
Not that I don’t already do my best to do stupid things to make people happy.
Not that any of you notice the lengths I go to.
Lol, I’m being selfish again.

“I can’t afford a carriage;; but you’d look sweet;; upon the seat;; of a bicycle built for two”

Some of you might have noticed my absence for a few days.
Some others of you may have noticed my presence 24 hours a day for a few days.
Now depending on which end of the Becky’s Presence Spectrum you live on, you might know that I was in fact at school camp.
As far as school camps go it wasn’t that bad.
If you ignore a few fun little facts.

FUN LITTLE FACTS ABOUT CAMP THAT DID NOT HAPPEN :

• The power points in our cabin did not work meaning no heater, fridge, kettle, mobile charging, hair-dryers etc
• I didn’t exactly get along too well with some of the people in my cabin
• They made us watch some depressing crap about drink driving
• All the activities were based around heights and like jumping off things. I hate heights
• Everyone gets into these weird moods at camps (being female and all) so you don’t know what to expect
• Some people really suck when you spend two million hours in a row with them
• Energy drinks such as V should only be consumed as suggested on the packaging. Double the consumption will only lead to what appears to be some kind of warped drug high
• Skittles make your teeth feel sticky after a while, drinking more V will not help the stickiness go away
• People at my school are obsessed with lesbians (pointless rumors about quiet asians anyone?)
• Mobile phone call costs are epicly large
• Girls enjoy whining about boys
• Girls enjoy bragging about boys
• Sleeping on the floor hurts
• The food…
• The camp instructors seemed to get some kind of joy out of wishing us good marks in our HSC next year
• Rope burn is not nice around your waist, especially when said rope burn is gained from a team initiative game where you have a bow tied around you.
• It turns out that I can do a really good “phone-slut” voice (I’m not entirely convinced that this is a good skill to have)
• Salt water makes my hair go epic curly

Really though, it was pretty very fun and I had a great time.
See there were some positives too.
And since I have a deep love of list making.
I can make a list of things that I was grateful for.

THINGS I WAS GRATEFUL FOR AT CAMP :

• My friends, you guys are honestly the funniest, nicest people. I love that you actually hugged me when I was jumping up and down and screeching about Vegemite with my pupils all dilated from the V. I am so sure that others would have gotten scared and run away.
• Blindfolded Canoeing. (this really doesn’t need any explanation)
• The little Vegemite sachets they give out at breakfast time (And lil one who shoved like 20 of them in her pockets for me)
• The look on people’s faces when I start eating the Vegemite packets.
• Sleeping buddies (Lea is fun to spoon with)
• My fat suit
• My rain poncho and the looks that wearing it got me
• My support network (no srsly, I am not being sarcastic… much)
• People who braided, blow-dried or put product in my hair for me, I love the fact that you all so happily touched it despite the fact that there was no where near enough water pressure for anyone to have clean hair in that place
• Making phone calls to unsuspecting males. (lol sorry guys? only not really you horny fags)
• The noise that ducks make
• A realisation that some “friends” of mine are just fair weathered, combined with the fact that I am not bothered by that.
• This song right here
  
• People who are also scared of heights. Especially Patti who actually faced her fears while I slept in the grass
• The stupid camp instructor who had some kind of issue with what olives are…
• The rooster who would run up and down the track to the cabins making its cock-a-doodle-doo noise at exactly 7am
• The fact that excess V makes me want to hug everyone.
• Deep fried damper

FUNFUNFUNFUNFUN
I have decided that I now love everyone in year 11 at my school as well as a few of the teachers.
We are all going to be BFFLS.
But for serious I’m going to stop blogging now before I fall asleep on the keyboard.

“a carnival of idiots on show;; you’d better lie low;; if you love me;; won’t you let me know”

We all know that I am a simplistic kind of person.
Little things make me happy.
A new pair of shoes.
Playdough.
The neighbour’s cats.
Angry songs.
But there is one thing guaranteed to make me utterly joyful.
It’s a little piece of PDHPE hell they like to call King Ball.
Known to most Americans as Dodgeball I suppose.
Before you get all confused, no I do not do PE.
I am unco.
That would be funny to watch, but not quite as fun for me.
The only physical thing I tend to do is school sport.
At the moment my school sport is supposed to be cheerleading.
Which is good because my Cheer Bear sleeps in my bed and gives me nightly cheer.
(Not in a sick way you retard - yes Anika I mean you.)
I really need an outlet for that cheer before I hurt someone with my amazingly cheerful nature.
But the cheerleading woman was overseas or some junk so we were subjected to King Ball instead.
Which was quite possibly the best thing that could have happened.
I laughed for about an hour straight.
Those of you who actually know me would know that I never stop laughing anyway so it’s not exactly a big deal.
But it was.
This wasn’t just laughter.
This was some kind of hysterical reaction to the game.
See my school is really competitive.
And it seems like the quietest, nerdiest girls need some kind of outlet for their anger.
King Ball is it.
I swear that game unleashes the devil in the form of about 30 girls wearing ugly red shorts.
Which is so so so funny.
Although I think the teacher thought I was going to have a heart attack or something.
Which is nice.
Really that’s the reaction I always aim for from teachers.
I heard somewhere that one minute of laughter is worth like ten pushups or something.
Which explains why I’m so fit etc.
But really, I think that game is the coolest thing in the world.
You know what isn’t the coolest thing in the world?
My pencil case.
For those of you not familiar with it, it is one of those annoying pieces of crap they sell in smiggle.
It’s pink which is basically its only redeeming feature.
This pencil case happens to be the type that unzips entirely to become a long piece of zipper.
(It’s even longer than epic scarf believe it or not)
And since it has that cool ability to unzip into a big pile of nothingness leaving all my pens strewn across the room, it seems like that’s an invitation for anyone who happens to notice it to unzip it.
Which is just freaking lovely.
I complain too much, it’s not that bad.
It makes those around me happy.
Which is good.
Maybe the King Ball was some kind of cosmic payback.
I honestly cannot remember I time that I’ve laughed so hard.
Or that so many people have thought that I’m retarded.
In other news an old Asian lady spat at me at the bus stop today.
I lead such a fascinating life.
Then again, you’re actually bothering to read this so I suppose yours can’t be much better
Then again, my computer is such a stupid pile of shit that thing entry keeps randomly disappearing.
So really you probably aren’t reading this at all.

“I appreciate your help;; but even you can’t save me;; from myself”

So, a week of school has passed.
And once again it’s been one of “those” weeks.
You know the type…
Okok so maybe you don’t.
But it was one of those weeks where I have this unbelievable ability to change moods every few minutes.
I know what you’re thinking.
Becky dear, you’re female.
What did you expect.
Well really I expected a whole lot more than this.
It’s times like now that I realise just how emotionally fragile I really am.
I was ecstatically happy for the most part of the week.
But stupid little things kept happening and would throw me off and make me descend into a deep pit of sadness.
…
Not really, I just thought it sounded poetic.
Or something.
See I finally worked out what’s been bugging me.
It would seem dear friends, that I hate writing.
Didn’t see that coming did we?
I hate that so much of my life is based on writing things down.
I’m sick of writing essays, notes and even a freaking survey.
I’m sick of blogging.
I’m sick of summarising and abbreviating.
I’m sick of having supposedly “deep and meaningful” conversations via msn or txt.
I miss real life.
I’m sick of things being so ambiguous.
It used to be like writing this blog and writing stuff down put me in control.
It was some kind of bizarre release or something.
Now it feels like another chore and another assessment.
No wonder I’m so bogged down.
Plus I’ve had this ulcer in my mouth like all week.
It makes it impossible to eat and drink without wanting to cry out in pain.
So all week I’ve been like eating minimally until it gets the point where I feel like passing out and the headache pain cancels out the mouth pain while I stuff myself.
I don’t think that’s healthy.
I’ve been dedicating time to making the foods I like edible for my dearest ulcer.
Like I make my V go flat before I drink it with a straw (well two straws considering that it is me) aimed at the side of my mouth away from the ulcer.
I break my biscuits up into bloody tiny pieces so that they don’t touch the ulcer.
I let my food go cold quite frequently so that it wont burn the stupid patch of flesh.
I’m bloody sick of this.
Plus the blunter part of my personality has been gearing to start shit left, right and centre.
And the bloody builders just got here (late as usual)
So sorry if I’m not in the best mood ever.
I spent more than $200 on clothes this week.
Among those clothes was a bikini for camp next week.
And now I have this urge to swim.
I used to be one of those scary swimming kids.
You know the type, we do like 50 million laps every other day.
But like, I haven’t actually swum in like… 3 years?
But now I can’t stop thinking about swimming.
And the zoo.
I really want to go to the zoo.
Then I can take photos of the animals and smile retardedly.
I can’t believe its only been a week of school, I swear it seems like so much longer.
I had this argument with my dad like five times this week.
He’d get all loud and angry and say “You can’t muck around any more, it’s your last year of school.”
And I’d say “no dad, I’m in year 11, I have another year after this one.”
And he’d say “don’t you twist my words.”
And I’d say sorry.
And we’d do this over and over.
I don’t know why anyone would care about that.
But I just found it amusing.

“she didn’t choose this role;; but she’ll play it;; and make it sincere”

So school starts tomorrow marking the end of two weeks where I achieved… well nothing.
I’d started off with such highs hopes and an epic check-list.
My check-list had lots of stuff on it.
Mostly school related, but a few social things too.
And for some stupid reason, who bloody knows what that was, I had this belief in myself that I could do it all.
I was totally going to do a general maths exercise each day (Shut up, I’m stupid)
I was going to catch up on all the economics I’ve been putting off.
I was going to hang out with my friends a lot while still miraculously finding the time to do all this school work.
I was even going to do my drama assignment a billion years before it was due.
And you know, I do this every single holidays.
And I always believe I can do it, just by the single virtue of being myself.
I guess confidence is overrated.
I’ve gotta stop telling myself I’m going to do well even without trying.
I mean, of course I will.
I’m getting at least an 85 in all my subjects except for one.
I didn’t really do any work last term.
I am doing well.
I think that’s the worst part, the knowing that I can just fluke my way through stuff.
Kinda like my English extension story.
I wrote it in like half an hour (well most of it anyway)
I had like 5 people edit it for me.
And just before I emailed it to my English teacher I found another 5 mistakes that not one person seemed to pick up on.
There’s probably like 50 other typos in the stupid thing.
Not to mention that it has no story line and uses the word ugly excessively.
Yet, there is no doubt in my little blonde mind that I will get a really good mark on it.
Why?
Well who really knows.
The story itself doesn’t have any merit.
But I mean, it was me wrote it so things are obviously going to work out.
Says my messed up head.
My messed up parents say otherwise.
They say otherwise frequently and at increasing levels of loudness.
But ffs, do I honestly look like the kind of person who cares all that much?
I personally don’t feel like I have any ambition beyond being like an interior designer, or a counsellor.
But no, I’ve put this stupid idea of a law degree into their heads.
It’s like any kid with migrant parents.
They all have this warped hope that their kid is going to be a doctor or a lawyer or the CEO of some fucking massive company that spends all its time eating up little companies.
I think my dad still secretly believes that I’m going to wind up as a dentist despite the fact that the idea of looking into someone’s mouth grosses me out to extreme levels.
And while we’re on it, I’m not going to be a heart surgeon either.
Or anything else that involves me touching sick people.
Or kids.
Or animals.
I do not like sick things.
I think that I would be a great counsellor.
I say that a lot when I’m pissed off at someone for using me a venting tool.
But I mean it.
We’re all familiar with my ability to make any lonely dog, cat, person or rodent in a 500 metre radius come and talk to me.
Even if we’re not speaking the same language…
How awesome would it be if I got paid for this?
I mean, it’s evident that I’m good at it, because the people keep coming back (plus I have a massive ego and hence am good at everything)
I could be like that woman who’s the counsellor at school.
I pass her in the corridors sometimes and she smiles at everyone scarily largely.
I smile at people scarily largely!
The woman is in essence me!
Ok ok maybe not since we don’t share the same love of floral prints…
But, if I was to become a counsellor then surely it wouldn’t matter if I passed economics or not.
Well actually that doesn’t matter anyway based on my whole virtue of being myself thing that I’ve got going on.
Nevermind.
It’ll all be ok in the end.
Ooh guess what?
I finally finished knitting my epic scarf yesterday.
I’ve been knitting for ages.
But yes, here it is.
All epic and such.

“sometimes it’s hard to know what’s real;; when you’re not;; cuz you know I change myself;; to impress;; whoever happens to be standing next to me”

I finally wrote my eco essay.
Yippee Hooray!
It was 7 hand written pages (that’s minus the conclusion because I still don’t get that)
I don’t think that it’s actually all that readable.
But hey, it’s done.
That’s all that matters to me right now.
I got to take it off my check list and everything.
It was almost like a ceremony really.
I suppose I seem quite pitiful having taken so many days just to write this stupid essay.
But actually that’s because I’ve been working on the art of procrastination.
I am so so so good at procrastination.

Some of my recent procrastination activities have included:

• list making (oh my, this seems to be another one :O )
• watching youtube videos that I favourited like a year ago
• going to the movies
• watching crappy televised movies
• playing miss bimbo
• getting scared by fan girls
• being amused by the soulja boy dance. (I have no idea why it amuses me so much)
• Kneeding playdough. (do you remember my playdough phase? It’s backkkk… only not really)

I am totally epic cool.
At least I kinda got it done…
Eventually.
I’m sure it doesn’t make any sense at all but hey.
At least I had time to cultivate my passion for shitty movies.
I saw Forgetting Sarah Marshall (which I was actually meant to see with Gibson - I’m sorry if you read this)
It was just on a whim because I wanted to run away from the builders again after a nasty wake up (you don’t want to know).
But anyway, I don’t care what anyone says, I still think Prom Night was better.
For starters, no one died in this movie.
The fat male lead flashed too much.
And I now dislike Kirsten Bell because in my mind she’ll always be Veronica Mars and now in my mind Veronica Mars is a slut.
Which sucks.
I did like that one of the characters was named Rachel though.
And that she like swore randomly at her buff ex-boyfriend.
Oooh and I liked the Dracula puppet.
And I loved the creepy song.
Shame I can’t say the same about the plot line.
I watched Shop Girl on tv last night too.
And I’ve come to the conclusion that I am possibly the worst person ever to see movies with.
I just talk like the whole way through.
And I make those snarky little comments about the characters.
LOL.
I’m surprised anyone wants to see movies with me at all.
But that’s ok.
Because I can just sit in my house and play miss bimbo.
lololol
And then there’s the fan girls.
I cannot believe that I have gone my entire internet life without coming across fbr_trash
Really I am amazed.
How did I do it?
They are so effing hilarious.
Probably not in the way intended.
But I really did not know that there’s this entire culture of teens who starve themselves to get Fuelled by Ramen band members to notice them.
Only in America I suppose.
But wow.
I’d love to rant on some more, I’m sure I had a lot tt say when I started typing this.
But like, for some weird reason.
I can’t stop thinking about pasta.
So I’m going to go make some.

“you write such pretty words;; but life’s no story book;; love’s an excuse to get hurt;; and to hurt;; do you like to hurt”

So I faced a fear (or two) and went to the movies yesterday.
Now I don’t know about everyone else’s opinions, but it seems to me like lately the whole movie industry has gone waaaay downhill.
See for starters in amongst the children’s movies and the lame action movies the best movie I could think of wanting to see was actually Prom Night.
The idea seems simple enough really.
Horror movie set at prom.
It had potential.
The ads were pretty good since they didn’t give too much away.
I now know that they did that for a reason.
There wasn’t actually much to the movie.
Had the ads given anything away then really there would have been nothing left.
See here’s a basic summary.
There’s a nice pretty blonde girl with big blue eyes and perfect skin.
A teacher at her school becomes obsessed with her.
He breaks into her house and kills her parents and her little brother.
And you know, she might have had a dog, but I’m pretty sure he killed it too.
So the pretty blonde goes to live with her aunt and uncle.
She takes anti-anxiety meds and for three years she’s just fine.
Then of course she has a nightmare which is almost like a warning to the audience, a premonition of sorts, (and provides a helpful flashback) but really is probably just the result of the fact that dearest blondie decided to stop taking her meds.
So then perfect blonde girl goes to prom with her perfect friends (including the token black couple - yippee hooray) and her perfect boyfriend (because all pretty blondes have those in the movies).
They have their prom at some hotel and of course have their own little room upstairs.
Charmingly enough the other two couples seem to be chock-a-block with sexual references and arguments.
Not blondie and her boyfriend though.
They, of course, have a loving and genuine relationship.
*tears of joy* BLAH.
So anyways there’s a wisecracking MC and a nice and totally unexplained feud between the token black girl and some prissy blonde with a weird haircut.
There is also no character development.
So anyway everyone’s dancing retardedly and whatever.
And then the arguing couple looses its female since she goes upstairs to wash the torrents of mascara off her chubby cheeks.
Then omigosh surprise she gets stabbed.
Which is helpful I suppose because now she doesn’t have to cry anymore, and we don’t have to look at her boobs hanging out of her dress anymore.
It’s win:win really
Long story short, basically everyone gets stabbed.
Except for the token black guy, he just ends up crying in the gutter because he never got to propose to the token black girl before she got sliced and diced.
Actually, I must admit that made me kinda sad.
But know, I had good company and fairy floss so I got though it.
The ending was excellent too.
I was hoping for one of those endings where they try to tie up all the loose ends.
I couldn’t wait to see if they would try that despite the fact that pretty much everyone was dead…
Unfortunately they didn’t.
But the actual ending was pretty good.
See this girl lost her parents.
Her best friends.
Some guy called Michael.
A maid.
Her boyfriend.
A couple of cops.
Her sanity etc.
But you know, the cop does a couple of burnouts in his car and gets there in time to shoot the wanker who has been stabbing everyone.
Blondie rolls out of the way of the knife.
The cop hugs her and says “It’s ok, everything’s alright now.”
Despite the fact that clearly it isn’t since pretty much everyone she loves is dead.
Cue Credits.
I’m not kidding,
That was honestly it.
How depressing.
Well actually not very, if the acting was better then maybe it’d be depressing.
But since the acting sucked it was just kinda dumb…
I kinda wish I lived in America now.
I wanna have Prom.
But knowing my luck everyone there will die so…

“I’ve tried to compensate;; for everything I’m not;; and every face forgotten”

Oh My God.
Please imagine those words said in the voice of an annoying girl whose name starts with R.
(And no, it’s not me.. there are more of those)
But srsly.
Oh. My. God.
Words simply cannot express the pure love that I feel for my camera.
And the new 55-200mm lens I got for it today.
I honestly just sit here and like look at it and beam with joy.
And then I feel this urge to pick it up and hold it.
So I do.
I think this is how parents must feel when they look at their newborn children.
Actually I think I might be getting a tad creepy what with the forcing people to look at my camera on webcam.
No, not me and the camera, just the camera.
Hahahaha.
I’m the creepiest person on earth.
That’s right Anika.
I took your job.
But anyway, euphoria aside I thought it’s about time I blogged about something that pisses me off since I seem to have been too happy lately and thus am possibly loosing readers.
Really we all know I’m only interesting when I rant.
So here we go.
Ok I don’t have limewire on my computer because my anti virus like clashes with it so my main sources of music would be cds (because I love to do things legally) or really dodgy websites (right on the other side of the spectrum much?).
So, as all dodgy websites tend to do, the song websites expose me to a wide variety of “interesting” ads.
See if I was actually a shopaholic (see guys, I really am not) then the compulsion to buy random shit would mean that I would now be in possession of things like Viagra pills, poker website subscriptions, cheap and possibly black market iPods, gym memberships and enough porn to fill like 7 million hard drives.
And of course there are the mobile phone subscriptions.
Now these are what really get to me.
Ok fair enough someone might want the horoscope one.
Or numerology or whatever else.
But.
I keep seeing this particular ad.
And I really do have to ask.
What kind of loser actually needs to be told what their crush’s name is?
No seriously. Who?
I mean isn’t the point of having a crush on someone actually knowing that you have a crush on them?
If you actually need a mobile subscription that costs $6.30 a month to tell you that you like someone called Harry then I hate to break it to you, but your relationship with Harry probably isn’t going to work out too well.
Just a hint.
Really if you’re lacking anything to do with the $6.30 per month you could give that money to me.
Financially responsible Becky would enjoy banking that $6.30.
I am sure that she would not end up putting that money towards buying shoes.
Course not.