Friends

Well this image doesn't really have much to do with the topic 'Friends' and I said I would put my favourite postcard of the week, and I have obviously already done this. But I realised if I don't put more secrets up I will never get all the ones I really like posted. So I may just add them whenever I feel it necessary. This is one of my all time favourite secrets. I have it stuck to my modern history writing book at school, which happens to be one of my favourite subjects. So even though it doesn't have anything to do with friendship, I agree with what it says and I think maybe your friends can help you become a part of something 'Big, Important and Magical'.

I don't know if anyone else has ever done this or felt this way, but I sometimes take my friends for granted. I am not talking about friend's who if you are honest-to-god about it, your friends out of convenience. I am talking about the friends that happen to be there when you need them, even if they are the last people you want to see. Your Best Friends. It was hard for me a while ago to tell me who my best friends were, I think I liked all my friends equally. For some reason though, the two people I class as my best friends, are the two I have been friends with the longest. I wonder if it is because I feel more comfortable around them, than I do my others. I don't feel as if I need to watch what I say when I am with them like I do when I am with my Christian friends, I can tell them if I think what they are wearing looks terrible, or looks awesome and they do the same for me. When I am frustrated with other people I can go to them and know that they will be on my side and dislike that person with me. They stand up for me if I need them to ( this rarely happens) and I can trust them with most of my secrets ( I say most because some secrets I have to keep to myself). The three of us trust each other, and even though we bicker, like most teenage girls, we get over it pretty quickly and are best friends again. I don't feel as if I need to watch myself when I am around them. I feel comfortable with their families.

I have taken them for granted many times though. I asked one of my friends to do something with me and I was really looking forward to it, she pulled out at the last minute though for no good reason. I acted like it didn't bother me, when really it did. I was talking to my best friend Serena and told her that I really didn't want to go to this thing alone. She was busy though, but she said she would ask her dad (more like talk him into) if she could come with me. I found out the next day that she was aloud to come, so she dropped her plans. Them my other best friend Penny heard what we had planned and decided to come along with us. I think that is true loyalty. My friend lets me down and Penny and Serena come to my rescue.

I think that is what true best friends do, when you are upset they drop everything that they are doing and try to make you feel better. Forgetting all their problems along the way. I guess until they did that for me I wasn't sure how close we were, and now I know that they are truly my closest friends. I really should have known though, being friends for five years and still seeming as strong as ever has to mean something, right?

It is funny though, not Hahaha funny just odd, that people say odd number groups don't usually work because people get jealous easily. In this case 3 is the magic number (yes like the song). Because Serena is always the deciding vote in Penny and my friends, we fight quite a bit (not really fight we both just disagree) and we usually make Serena choose sides. We don't take it personally though, in-fact we like to make Serena choose, because whoever she choices to side with is the winner of the disagreement. I love arguing though, I argue to win and most of the time my argument is so convincing that Serena chooses my side. I love being so persuasive.

Here is to true friends, who keep you happy and who are there for you. If you don't feel that your friends are there for you, I suggest you throw them and get some new ones who you can be yourself around. Even if that stops you from being the most popular girl in school. I know that half the 'popular' kids at my school, when the leave they are not going to stay in contact with any of their school friends. I also know that I am going to stay really close with Serena and Penny until I am old. I think you sometimes just know these things and until your friendship has been tested you will not know for sure.

Ballroom Blitz

I have decided to put a picture up of my favourite Post Secret post card, at least once every week. I think the one above is just so sweet. I wasn't sure at first if it was a post card because I had saved the image a long time ago, but now I am pretty sure it is. I think I may also add a image from Found Magazine every once in a while, because there are also some really sweet things posted on it. 

The postcard could mean different things to different people, it could be a postcard about someone’s friend, or child, but most likely love. I like to read the postcards and think about the person writing it, I sometimes feel empathy and sometimes sympathy, sometimes happiness and sometimes anger, sometime amusement and sometime shock. That is what I love about the Post Secret website. I wish that Frank would upload twice a week. In a way Post Secret was there for me when no one else was and reading other people's secrets stopped me from feeling so alone. So I am going to thank Frank Warren for making a blog that has helped so many people, I think he is a great man. And one day I may be brave enough to send in my own secrets. 

I am not only going to have secret of the week but also author of the week today it is...  Richelle Mead

                                           

Okay so not long ago I said I didn't want to read any books that involve vampires, but Frostbite by Richelle Mead is so good. I was planning on sending her an email telling her how much I enjoyed her books and can't wait for the next instalment, but of course her website isn't working.

The Vampire Academy Series is great, the main character Rose is just so likable. The books aren't like twilight (thank god) and they aren't your normal vampire romance novels. I refused to read them to begin with, and then talked me into, assuring me that they were worth it. I trusted her,thankfully she was right. I would like to thank Richelle Mead for not making me cringe while reading about blood sucking fiends. These books are awesome, and I assure you, you can hate twilight (I do) and still enjoy these books, you can also love twilight (the friend that made me read them does) and also enjoy these books.

               

Well I have to log off soon before my mum comes in and yells at me. so I better quickly pick my song of the week... The winner is Meaghan Smith's  'Here Comes Your Man', featured on '500 Days of Summer' The best movie soundtrack ever. This is a really lovely song you should check out the video clip it is really cute. 

 I believe at least every week you should read one book, listen to a new song or a new artist and read a secret. But I guess that is just me... 

Oh yeah, my mum was playing the song Ballroom Blitz before, I think it is such a funny song.   

The Guy Next Door

Well the people who use to live next door to me were complete lunatics, just crazy. They fought so much and stabbed each other (I don't know all the details). My room is really open to noise; I am guessing that if I can hear the people next door they can hear into my house. Annoying, but I can live with it. So anyway finally who we name psycho Sally and Crazy Chris, moved out and this male family moved in. There is the father, a son about my age and a son who I think is either twelve of thirteen. I haven't spoken to any of them, which isn't very neighbourly of me, but they can already hear too much of my life and I don't want them to know too much.

One night I was having trouble sleeping it must have been around one in the morning and I just couldn't fall asleep. I tried and tried, but it seems when you try your hardest to fall asleep the more difficult it is. I was lying in bed, when the car next door pulled in. It is such a loud car you could hear it from a mile away. I heard the engine stop and listened to the voices talking. I may not have met the people next door but I know their voices pretty well. The father has a not very deep scratchy voice and when he gets mad it becomes a little whiny. The youngest boy has a sweet, yet-to-be-broken voice, he sometimes sounds like a girl. The middle son has a really nice voice, it isn't too deep because he isn't that old, but it has this soft lullaby tone to it, a peace maker’s voice.

So the night I couldn't sleep I was listening to the voices and the middle son’s voice was so nice it helped me fall asleep. I don't remember what any of them were saying, I don't make it a point to listen into other people's conversations, and I just liked hearing the voices drifting into my room.

Voices can really affect how you see a person though, the same with a smell. I think voices carry so much power; I would love to think I have a nice voice, but I think it is very Australian and sometimes I sound obnoxious because of the way I pronounce words. I would love to have a calming voice, that as soon as someone hears it, it washes over them and they are filled with sudden relief and happiness. My voice doesn't make people cringe, like for instance the nanny's or Janice from Friends, but it doesn't wash over people. The young guy next door has a voice that fills you with calm.

I am making it a habit to close all the windows in my room before I go to bed though, I don't like being rude and listening into the house next door, and even though the voice might be calming I would prefer talk to him face-to-face and maybe learn his name.

Oh well, first day back at school tomorrow, so I am off to bed. *Yawn*

1000 Awesome Things

Image Thanks to STFU-YaThatsRight from deviantart.com 

I was reading Post Secret like I do every Sunday, Monday or whenever I can get to a computer and I watched the two videos at the bottom of the post and the first one is for a website called 100 Awesome Things. I looked into it and I think it is really cool. It made me think about some of the awesome things that I never actually think much about. Like when I was a kid and use to live on a big acreage and we had this guy come and cut our grass, there would be so much grass left behind afterwards that you just couldn't leave it alone. I remember having fights in the thick cut grass and it getting stuck in my hair, I didn't even give it a second thought to how much fun we had playing in it, until about five minutes ago. I love the smell of grass and miss being able to play in it. I guess with maturity you forget all the little fun things you use to do. I am going to make it a point, next time I see freshly cut grass mounds, no matter who I am with (okay maybe not my mum), I will go and throw a massive wad at them.

I wonder sometimes if we stop doing all the things we once loved because we forget the magic it use to have. When you were young you created a perfect world from anything, when you get older though, you see something like a cardboard box and when you once might have seen a jungle with wild animals, or a pumpkin carriage on the way to a ball, you just see a boring cardboard box. The only thing it is good for it shipping or moving house. Things seem to become boring when you are old, you get embarrassed easily, once when you would have danced to your favourite song, even if the lyrics spoke about sex (yes I danced to shaggy), you would dance your little bum off and sing along to the lyrics that didn't make any sense anyway. I could block out all my issues when I was young, nothing bothered me, I got mad at the silliest things and got over them just as quickly as I got upset by them. Life ways easier, and for some reason every little kid wants to grow up. I miss my innocence; I miss not having anything to worry about anything. Waking up and only thinking about the barbies I am going to play with that day, or knowing it was hot enough to run through the sprinkler, or wanting to play with my dog. The world wasn't a terrible place to live in, it was fun and everything was possible.

Growing up is painful, understanding the world is not always a good thing. I understand more about the world then most people my age and I sometimes wish I was as naive as some people I know. Words use to be hard for me, I use to have trouble reading and found it difficult in English. I didn't realise what I was missing, I have never liked feeling less intelligent then someone else. I tend to have friends who are, not stupid, but a little naive, because I can lead them. I am not the young girl who can't read anymore, I love reading; I consume books and love words. When adults say stupid things to me I try my hardest not to correct them. I have an English mind. I am not the best speller in the world and sometimes my punctuation can be dodgy, but I try to improve these faults. I sometimes really miss the young girl who liked to muck around with her friends and didn't have a care in the world, though. She had is easy. I guess if I could say something from the bottom of my heart to a young girl it would be, don't grow up to fast, go and play and have fun.

When I have kids I am making sure they play outside, they will have friends and play a sport, or dance and be happy being a kid. It sucks to grow up, and I wish I hadn't wanted it so badly as a kid.

Image thanks to Daniel Carter from deviantart.com

Where The Wild Things Are

 

 

 

 

I just watched the movie, "Where The Wild Things Are" it is so cute. I think Max is the most imaginative ten years old (just a guess). While I was watching it, I thought about when I was a kid and I got into a fight with my mum and while she wasn't watching I ran away from home. I didn't run to far and it was daylight, but I hid in bushes a fare walking distance away for about two hours. I made my mum lose her mind with worry and everyone was looking for me. I decided after being lonely for so long that I would walk back home and just see if they had even noticed my disappearance.

I was too upset to care that I might get into trouble so I walked up the long stretch of road leading to my house and my once-step-sister was calling out my name and looking in a bush for me. She spotted me and called out to my mum. My mum ran down the stairs and out the front door to where I was standing, she was so upset with me. She had been worried and as soon as she knew I was okay she became furious. I remember her yelling at me, asking me why I had left and to never ever do it again. I remember thinking, "I wish I hadn't come back." she told me that I had rewind everyone’s day and my punishment was to sit with her while she yelled.

I didn't runaway again (this wasn't the first time I had disappeared), I don't actually remember why I didn't try it again, I think I never felt the need to after that.

The end of "Where The Wild Things Are" was sweet in the way that the mother wasn't mad, she was so worried and she wasn't able to sleep. She hugged her son and then just sat and watched him, happy to see him okay. I imagined what it would have been like to see my mum hug me the day I had ran away and just been happy to see me. I think it would have been nice, but maybe I would have run away again.

I was reading into getting books published, and I feel so lost. I may be going crazy, but it seems so hard. I think I may approach it from a different angle. I am doing business at school, so when I finish I can go into creative writing and from there I can go into creative writing at UNI and maybe a business degree. I can do something like advertising after UNI and this should improve my skills. At the same time I am at UNI I will send of heaps of manuscripts and if none of them get published, I will just have to hope that being in advertising will help me get published.I want to be a writer so badly that I can't see anything else in my life.

I could be a teacher: blah, oh god the kids I know I would rather run into a pit of fire.

I could be a kindergarten teacher: double blah, sorry I only ever want to look after cute kiddies, and my own children.

I could be a lawyer: all that arguing would be fun. But law has never interested me.

I could be a singer: Hahaha, me a singer, block your ears.

I could be an artist: and create what? average prints (they are the only real thing I enjoy doing in art).

I could be a hairdresser: When scissors are around me I tend to shred things, how attractive would shredded hair be?

I could be a councillor: There is no denying I like helping people, but this job would take to much out of me.

I could be a flight attendant: a pilot would be better, and unfortunately I don't have 20-20 vision.

I could be an astronaut: That is just reaching for the stars (Hahaha, I am sooo, sooo, funny).

I could be a comedian: I am only funny accidentally, I can't just randomly tell a joke and have the whole room laughing, I people hate my jokes, they prefer my natural charisma.

I could be a Youth Worker: I think I would cry, I wouldn't be able to handle youth work, my heart would break into a million pieces, I am strong, but not that strong.

I could be a doctor or a nurse: I don't mind being around sick people, and actually I think I should maybe go and read to those in nursing homes. Blood and human faeces freak me out though and so does the thought of getting a disease.

I could be an office worker: working for the man, I have a feeling I would go crazy and start to sniff envelopes, mmm, this one smells like chocolate, must be for rick in accounting. UHH no thanks!

I could be a Telemarketer: wow, sorry no Indian in me. Australian and Welsh only. And telemarketers drive me insane; I will leave this one to the Indians.

I could be an actress: it would probably be more interesting to watch a plate of jelly jiggle, and then watch me try to act. You would probably be more entertained.

I could be a song writer: This doesn't sound to bad, if only I was amazing at poems

I could be an accountant: Numbers? That is all I think when I think 'accountant' NUMBERS!! I hate maths

I could be a publisher: well that would be an awesome way to get my own book published, but I would feel lousy. Mind you I would get to read many books and maybe find awesome authors. (I will have to seriously think about this option.

I could be a librarian: I am not too bad at sorting things out, in fact I sort of like it (alphabetical order is my speciality) but I am loud, I need to be loud. If I had to be quiet all the time, and make sure everyone else is quite to, I might go crazy. At least while I am writing I can sing (yes I do this a lot, in-fact I have been known to sing until all hours of the night) right now I am listening to “5 years" by " Noah And The Whale". Before that it was "Ice" by "lights". It just wouldn't be the same if I can't sing.

I could be a waitress: People annoy me easily and it is likely I could be charming and the next second someone could say something rude to me and I would get really annoyed and spit in their burger (don't test waiters, be nice to them).

I could be anything... but nothing has as many pros as being a writer, it is me. I am just a little bummed that it is going to be hard getting my story read. It has to be unique, something that no one has ever heard of before. Great! My book will never contain vampires I would prefer die then read another vampire book!

Well here is to making your dreams reality, and I suppose if I can't get my book published I can still write anyway, even though that sounds depressing. *Sigh*

Sylvia Plath

I love people. Everybody. I love them, I think, as a stamp collector loves his collection. Every story, every incident, every bit of conversation is raw material for me. My love's not impersonal yet not wholly subjective either. I would like to be everyone, a cripple, a dying man, a whore, and then come back to write about my thoughts, my emotions, as that person. But I am not omniscient. I have to live my life, and it is the only one I'll ever have. And you cannot regard your own life with objective curiosity all the time..."

— Sylvia Plath (The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath)

So why is this post only about Sylvia Plath? Because she is an amazing writer. I could have written about many different things today, for instance my odd style of clothing and the reason my nails are painted in weird colours, but I thought she deserved a whole post to herself.
If you haven't heard of Sylvia Plath before well I will tell you a bit about her. She was an American writer who was well known for her poems. Plath had her first poem published when she was only eight years old. I guess she is best known for how she died though. It is sad to me that an amazing writer would be remembered more for the way she died then for her work. I assume that is how Sylvia Plath had wanted it though.
She had attempted suicide twice before she had died, and had lived with depression most of her life. Her husband had left her for another woman; she was very depressed and had been prescribed anti-depressants. A nurse found Sylvia Plath lying with her head on a blanket in a gas oven with all the gas taps on full. This is just a really short summary, I couldn't be bothered writing all about her life, but you should read into it and also read some of her poems.

So a while ago I read "The Bell Jar" and I became very depressed after reading it. I will write what the summary on the back of the book says "'A girl lives in an out-of-the-way town for nineteen years, so poor she can't afford a magazine and then she gets a scholarship to college and wins a prize here and there and ends up steering New York like her own private car. Only I wasn't steering anything. Not even myself.' Working in New York one hot summer, Esther Greenwood is on the edge of a darkness that makes her world increasing unreal. In the vivid and unforgettable novel about the struggles of growing up, Esther's world shines through: the wide eyed country girls, her crazed men-friends, hot dinner dances and Nights in New York, and a slow slide into breakdown."

By reading "The Bell Jar" it was easy to see how depressed Sylvia Plath had been. The book is about depression and trying to get better. It is interesting and Sylvia Plath is a good writer, but honestly I am not sure I can recommend it. I don't think I could recommend a book that is so depressing that after reading it I didn't know how to react. Plath's poems are all brilliant, but "The Bell Jar" felt like a slap in the face.

Wanting to be a writer myself I feel like a book should give people hope. In my opinion Sylvia Plath writing makes the reader for a brief amount of time feel some of the pain she felt, she comes across in her work and by writing a book about her depression the reader feels some of it as well. I felt that depression was a scary thing after reading "The Bell Jar" even though I had been through it I never wanted to feel the same was Esther felt. It scared me to think that something like EST could be so painful, and that is could also be calming. If you have read "The Bell Jar" and didn't like it don't give up on Plath's poems because they are definitely worth reading.

To end on a happy note you should watch this (no it isn't to do with Sylvia Plath): It's Only Love the guy that made this music clip is really good.

Birthdays

Well I am officially 17, and my birthday was actually not bad. I was expecting it to suck but I actually had a good day. The worst part of the day was my sister throwing a tantrum because I wasn't interested in what she had to say about going to Bali, she is so touchy.

Birthdays are odd things, you become a year older than you were the day before and yet you don't even feel a minute older. I got some great gifts, expensive makeup and some books by Jennifer Weiner. I got this really cute jewellery box and as I opened it up I saw this beautiful gold cross in it. I have wanted a cross necklace for so long and I finally have one and I am so happy about it.

I am pretty happy with what I got, I know when I tell people what I got it doesn't seem like much, but to me it is more than enough. I already have everything I want and if my mum could find something that I actually like, which she did, well then she is brilliant.

Using the makeup I was given I painted my nails black for the first time ever. I wouldn't usually, but I was given it and I wanted to see what it looks like, I actually like it. I have naturally long nails, even if they are bitten to the quick.
For all my worrying by birthday was just fine. Happy Birthday to me!

Death

Well I changed the name of my blog. 9 days did change my life, but I haven't really spoken about those days so it didn't really seem fitting. My life changes constantly though, I feel different every day.

So the title of this post is Death. I have thought about life a lot in my 16 years and 364 days give or take a few. It seems sad how much I have thought about death, and for that matter how little my life mattered to me in the past 6208 days, that sounds short to me. 6208 days is how many days I have been breathing, that is 148,992 hours, well almost. I am going to be 17 in less than 3 hours and I am dreading it so much.
I haven't thought about hurting myself in at least 6 months, that is a massive accomplishment for me. For about four and a half years I wondered what it would be like to die. I thought about ways to kill myself, swallow a handful of pills, slit my wrists, suffocate myself, and drown in a pool of water. I remember there were days when I would be in the bath or a swimming pool and I would just keep my head under and think of what a nice death it would be to drown, I would do this until my body floated to the top, or I couldn't stand not breathing anymore. I become consumed with these thoughts; everyday was a new battle with myself.

 I remember having bad birthdays were I would be made to clean the house and wash the dishes because my mum wasn't home and my step father was to fat and lazy to do it. I remember thinking that I couldn't wait until he died, I would pray that he would die of a heart attack or something similar. I was disgusted with myself for having these thoughts, but I had similar towards myself. I wanted vengeance towards anyone who had wronged me.

 I hid all of this; no one knew how much hatred and anger I hid behind a mask of innocence. This mask protecting myself, the person who I hated most of all, enough to write a suicide note. I felt more alone then I had ever been before, no one cared for me in my mind. Even having God in my heart didn't seem enough to stop this terrible hatred; that I was feeling towards myself. I was seriously depressed and the worst part was, was that I was afraid to ask anyone for help. I think asking for help is really the first step to getting out of depression. I have never told anyone that I had depression, not even the councillor I saw once, and honestly depression still scares me. I don't feel like hurting myself anymore and I feel happier, but I still have bad days and I think I will keep having them.

I wonder sometimes if as soon as you are happy with your life, if that is when it will end, that maybe it needs to be a battle and when it stops being a battle than you can worry. Being 17 isn't something I am looking forward to because people think I haven't had much life experience when really I have had more life experiences then most people my age and had very little normal teenager experiences just the cruel heart retching life ones. I carry around what has happened in my life like an open wound which is healing slowly, and yet it still has a lot of healing left to do. Like a scar it will always be a part of me, the pain will stop and I will just have a memory of what happened. Unlike a scar though, the whole world can't see it, I am marked from within, on my heart, which may well be the hardest scar of all to heal.

I don't see death as an escape anymore; in fact I don't want to die. I want to grow old, meet someone I love and have kids. I also want to change people's lives, try and help them through my experiences and I believe I can do that through the power of words. Well here is hoping I can anyway. So maybe I will in the next 83 years have many good birthdays, let’s hope it starts with my 17th.