The dashboard melted, but we still have the radio

Odes, in rhyming couplet.

Ode to Hamster

You laugh a lot
You don't smoke pot

You like to blog,
and burning logs

You love your man
and spaghetti in a can

You like David Bowie
'Nuff Said



Ode to Cinderella

You stress a lot
should you smoke pot?

I think you're mad
and oh so rad!

We're going for coffee
Perhaps Pie of Banoffee?

I really do love you
down stairs I will shove you



:D :D :D

Just by the way lol, all violent threats are only for the sake of rhyme :D

the food that im eating is suddenly tasteless

A borrowed/stolen idea.

Just for once...

I wish that I could shut my mouth before I'm asked
I wish that I could finish something before its due
I wish that I knew what to say in defense of myself against myself
I wish I would not let myself relive my mistakes
I wish I was nice to be around
I wish I was a builder uper not a tearer downererer.
I wish I wouldn't take out my frustrations on my sister.
I wish the paranoia was 100% gone
I wish I hadn't dated him
I wish people would forget that I did
I wish I could forget that I did
I wish I could sleep for a few weeks with no consequences
I wish I hadn't been forced to quit my job
I wish I didn't have to miss you
I wish I wasn't so irritable
I wish I could think of my own blog ideas...

Time was lost up in a cloud, in a whirl

Reaching for breaking point.
It's hardly pretty up there on my shelf,
but it couldn't be worse than
keeping this all inside myself


I'm so nearly gonna snap.
Don't get me wrong, right at this particular second I'm fine. But seriously, double english on wednesday?
Someone is going to die.
I will reach into my bag for the pre-prepared petrol soaked book for my individual study. I will hand it to you to look at, getting the petrol on your hands. You will attempt to wipe this off onto your clothing, increasing your flammability. You will then reach for my modified version of your favourite object, the air conditioning unit remote. Upon attempting to turn it on, it will spit out flames, catching your clothes on fire. As you reach for your face in an expression of horror, your entire body will go up in smoke and the whole class will calmly get up and walk out of the classroom. Ready to either never speak of it again, or collaborate its reliability as an accident.

Too detailed?
Have I thought this through too much?
How will I get the air conditioner to spew flames at the right time?
How will I hand you the book without getting petrol on myself also?
How will I afford the petrol?


No.
No.
I'll figure it out.
I'll figure it out.
You underestimate the willingness of students to 'pitch in' on events like this.


Also, Dearest father. I know you are reading this, and I am not actually going to do this.
I'm just going to get through my double lesson on wednesday imagining it. Trust me, if you had to spend 100 minutes with this ridiculous excuse for a condescending illogical english teacher, you'd figure out how to make air conditioners spew fire too.

Possible blog code names for this teacher?
I'm open to suggestions :)

But after this day its this week all over again...

Ok, so school sucks. We'll get that off my chest straight away.
School sucks and tonight is my last shift at my dodgy job, which is 60% hurrah and 40% 'Oh bollocks I have to actually verbally acknowledge this with my employer now, -TERRIFIED-'

After that I don't know what there is really.
And thats extremely sad.

And I am extremely... bored.
Bored with this whole repetitious cycle thing.
Let me give you a step by step guide to an average school day for me...

1. Wake up at seven thirty
2. Wake up again and actually get up at 8.
3. Apologise to whichever teacher it is for being late
4. Lessons
5. Spend reccess being bored and tired
6. See step 4.
7. See step 5
8.Home
9. Procrastinate
10. Finally start doing some real work at about 8, 8:30
11. Finally go to bed at about 11.
12. Actually go to sleep somewhere between 12 and 1.
13. Repeat steps 1 through 12.

Wow, incredible isn't it?

I'm not counting down the hours to easter camp or anything... not at all

(if you're interested, its 116 at the moment)

no dawn, no day, i'm always in this twilight...

fishbutt. why is your post screen different to mine??

and now for a shameless plug : VISIT ME COS I AM AWESOME!!

Next year all our troubles will be far away...

I keep getting 'Have yourself a Merry Little Christmas' stuck in my head.
There is something so desperately sad about that hopefulness.
Does that make sense?

That line that I put in the title always gets me, because the heartbroken pessimist living in my mind wordlessly cries out without fail, 'no they won't' and it just...brings me to weeping. That song is the broken hearted Christmas carol, calling out to all humanity to 'let your heart be light '. Just, just let go of it.


That song is Carol sitting in her lounge room on christmas eve curled up tight like she'll fall out of her own chest if she lets go, listening to a playlist on her iPod

And Carol, she gets up. She pries her hands from her knees and her chin from her knees and her knees from her chest and she does not fall out of herself. Something incredible happens. The pain falls out instead.

She picks herself up and goes to a carols service, and to family christmas. She lets her heart be light.


Please forgive my chronic sentimentality and punism, I have been watching Grey's Anatomy.

And I have one last bit, that I wrote as my facebook status, stands alone really but I wanted to put it up here cos I really like it.

'Human life is incredible, there is an unbelievably strange mix of hope, joy, agony and desperation in the idea of waiting for an organ donation and Silent Night and O Holy Night are possibly the most beautiful songs in the world done right.'

if I could leave this goldfish sea...

This is for you.
Not in a broad, second-person-to-direct-it-at-the-reader-bullshit way.
In a -if-I-was-an-auctioneer-I'd-call-you-'in the back row with the cool hair and cool shoes, with the waistcoat. No not you David Tennant, the short one. No, not you Paul McDermott, the other short one. With the glasses and the cap and the talent, yeah you there' kind of way.

You are the one I will call when I have decided to give into the urges and drive on the wrong side of the road for a while, when I'm about to give up and call my boss a law- breaking heartless idiotic douchebag of a wog.
You are the one I'll call at three in the morning when I've just got to drive a very, very, very long way away down long dark winding highways.
You are the one I will call when I have lost it and don't want to find it for a while.

You are the one I will call when I just can't be normal anymore, when I can't spend my weekends sitting in front of the TV and doing homework, or not doing homework as is more often true.
Not because I think you're crazy, but because you're a rebel at heart, you're like my mentor for rebellious scandalosity. And yes, I just made up a word. (Are you proud flattered weirded out yet?)
I'll call you because you won't try to stop me, but you will take lots of hilarious pictures, and write on things with sharpie with me, and you'll have my back.

I will never forget when you shot down that flamer for me. It was amazing, and it was then that I knew you cared about me, in whatever weird way suits you.

So, I thought I'd let you know that these temptations are building up heavy right now, I nearly drove the whole way home last night on the right (e.g. wrong) side of the road, like, very very close to actually doing it...


am I going nuts?