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Jul 31, 2009

In the tower, above the earth...

Today's songs:

Sometimes, Alex Lloyd

The traffic is jamming
For miles up ahead
Releasing emotions
Deep in my head

I wish it was easy
Easy to breathe
The words that we needed
To get some relief

I still hear you crying,
then I see you smiling
Even when I close my eyes

Sending a rescue
Coming to find you
Do you think that we could save another day
Try not to break down
Walking the old ground
I don't want to throw the life we had away

Blocked up and cluttered
Tired we stand
Alone together
Was just not the plan
Something undenying
In the underlining
Even if I close my eyes

Sending a rescue
Coming to find you
Do you think that we could save another day
Try not to break down
Walking the old ground
I don't want to throw the life we had away

The Seer's Tower, Sufjan Stevens

In the tower above the earth,
There is a view that reaches far
Where we see the universe,
I see the fire, I see the end.

Seven miles above the earth,
There is Emmanuel of mothers.
With his sword, with his robe,
He comes dividing man from brothers.

In the tower above the earth,
we built it for Emmanuel.
In the powers of the earth,
we wait until it rips and rips.

In the tower above the earth,
we built it for Emmanuel.
Oh my mother, she betrayed us,
but my father loved and bathed us.

Still I go to the deepest grave,
Where I go to sleep alone.

Oh, alright, Benjamin.  I'll be kind and share my code.  But ONLY for the scroll box.  And only because I'm sick and tired of seeing multi-coloured text on your blog.  Seriously, dude.  ::sigh::  But you can learn to style it yourself.

<div style="overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: auto; max-height: 250px;">Stick your lyrics in here, with proper <br> and <p> tags in HTML view (Blogger)</div>

Change the max-height as you wish.  Overflow-x can be on something not "hidden", but you can work out what the others are yourself.  This only works if overflow-y stays on "auto", and if there is a height set.  No height, no scroll-thing, I stab you in the eye for making me tolerate huge amounts of random shit.  Capisce?

Today signifies the end of a shitacular week.  Yay!

Let's recap:
Monday:  Maths SAC, Physics test, Chem SAC.
Tuesday: Maths SAC.
Wednesday: UMAT.
Thursday: Maths SAC test, Chem SAC test.
Friday: Physics SAC.

Thank God it's over.  Thank.  God.

Now I just have to prepare for the English SAC next week.  Ew.  :\

Relentless schoolwork, rah-rah-rah.

Posted via web from youretrulypre.posterous

Jul 30, 2009

Fuck the UMAT.

Fuck waiting for an hour in processing, and then spending another two and a half hours answering questions.  I don't care what Florentine was feeling towards her mother.  Nor do I care what picture comes next in the sequence.  Just fucking let me out.

It didn't really help that Dad felt it necessary to kick my ass, emotionally.  On the drive up, when I didn't have a precise address for the venue (because, ya know, it's a fucking racecourse and just a little difficult to miss?!), he went off at me about being "unhelpful" and "useless".  More so because I refused to keep searching for it on the GPS.  I dunno.  Father dear's more than a little strange some days.

But nah.  We were out by... I think, Huntingdale Road, when he went off at me.  Told him to just pull over, I'd walk home.  And for the first time in my life, I heard a sincere "I'm sorry" from my father.

So we get up to the racecourse, except... I had no idea where to actually go.  So he left the car to go find someone.  While looking through all my shiz to see if I could find a contact number, I happened to locate... not a precise address, but something more helpful than before.  Driving back out to it, Dad started with the "you couldn't have found that before?"  I had to come back with "Yeah, that's what you want to do before my exam?  Do you think I'm so stupid that I don't realise when I do wrong?  Why do you feel the constant need to point it out?"  All quiet, after that.

Ooh, I'm still leaving, though.

The rest of the day was... a mixed bag.  Got Ben his birthday present, but not Kimmy.  :\  More shopping is necessary, methinks.  And... I dunno.  The James thing makes me feel guilty as hell.  I just... I do and I don't regret it.  You know?  I regret that I've somehow hurt Brian.  More than that, I regret that... some part of me enjoyed it.  Not to say that I think I should be on complete lockdown against other people.  Just feels so wrong, somehow.  I mean, he knows he's temporary, so I guess that's one good thing.  There won't be any more invested in any of this.  And I won't let there be anything more than friendship.  He's not... not right for me.  I mean, fun, and all.  And a wicked good shot with the air rockets.  But I just... can't picture forever.  You know?

I realise that at the start, I couldn't quite picture forever with Brian, either.  But... who else is going to love me like he has?  Who else am I going to be able to love like this, share this epic connection with?  I'm fortunate enough to have found something some people spend forever looking for.  I'm not going to hold my breath on it happening again.

Still, even mindless enjoyment of something I wasn't aware I was craving is has potential to be is bad, when it's not with the person I've been wanting.

I should shut up and go to bed.  Goodnight.

Posted via web from youretrulypre.posterous

Jul 29, 2009

Gee, thanks.

That was fucking considerate of father dear.  An hour before my UMAT, and "you should have left the heater on higher.  Look what you've done, now I'm sick."

Great.  Great.  I was in a fair mood, and now I'm not.

Fucking thanks.

Oh, I know, he's a shit and don't listen to him.  But for him to apportion blame with such epically bad timing?  Yeah, walking away, and glad to do it.

Now, to get out of the house on this cold, cold morn, and go take that damn test.

I already feel tired.  Fuck fuck fuck.  Sleep on the drive up.  Only on the drive up.

I don't want a lift home.


I'm off.  Wish me luck.

Posted via web from youretrulypre.posterous

Jul 28, 2009

J'ai un dilemme.

Hockey tonight, or home to study for the UMAT, both SACs, and the Physics SAC that's just popped out of 'nowhere'?
Either way, I'm probably going to end up crashing early.  I am ridiculously tired, and I have to be at Caulfield Racecourse (!) at 8AM tomorrow.  Which means, getting up at 6.30, bullying Van into driving me up (because I do not want to spend time with my father), signing in, all that shit.
I already emailed Chard to check if it's okay, but he hasn't replied yet.
I feel bad.  I like Mr. Chard, and I hate skipping out on something he's so enthusiastic about.  But in all honesty, [sotto voce] I really don't like hockey.  Not... not when I'm so swamped with other things, and tired to boot.  Granted, tired was my own damn fault.  Still...
I'm not sure whether I want to register to vote yet.  For all I know, the sky could fall in my lap tomorrow, fortune will smile on me, and I won't be in Australia when I turn 18.  ::shrugs::
Apparently, valedictory dinner's going to be held at the Hilton in the city.  (Reminds me of that Paris Hilton video, shortly after her sex tape was published)  That's going to be trouble.  How do I get there and back, and more importantly, how to dissuade my folks from going?  I don't want him there, that much is clear.  Don't want my father tainting the last good memories I can have of Haileybury.  But of course, transport issues.  :\
I never did get to talk with Tash.  Apparently, Kimmy beat me to it.  She looks an awful lot more cheerful today than she did yesterday.  That's always great to see.
Going to go pick Adam's brain about whether I should go.  I'm getting antsy, waiting for replies, and I really need to know so I can either go to sleep or go home.

Posted via email from youretrulypre.posterous

Jul 27, 2009

Well, don't I feel like a shit.

Just blew up at Ben (yet again) for having a detention because he didn't do his homework.  Three essays, of 900 words each, over mid-year break.

Well, what else do I do?  I'm not going to let it slide.  Frankly, it annoys me way too much (probably because I care way more than I should).  It's not the first time it's happened.  And hey, this year actually counts for something.  It's not like practise, like last year or the year before.  This year actually matters.

I know, I'm a fucking hypocrite.  I didn't get any work done tonight, either.  After father dear's smashing down of what little willpower I had, I'm just glad I'm still sober and in a relatively good mood.

I shouldn't be so harsh towards Ben.  He's had it rough, what with the Shannyn thing and whatever else.  But honestly?  He chose to go on the trip, to put the time and money into spending time overseas.  That came with the unwritten caveat that he'd also be able to balance his schoolwork on top of that.  Which, being a travel veteran with the school, he should well know already.  Apparently, this is the case, but he doesn't seem to particularly care enough to make a difference about it.

I don't even know any more.  It's not worth continually nagging him about, and I feel kinda like a mom doing that anyway.  But Jesus fucking Christ, someone, please, set the kid straight.  He needs to get his shit done if it's compulsory, or if it's SAC preparation.  That's all.  I'm a pretty big procrastinator myself, and I still managed to get everything done.

I don't know what annoys me more, the fact that this is happening and he doesn't seem to learn from it (I'm thinking of previous detentions he's had for not handing things in) or the fact that, despite all this, he's still going to get to do all the things I'm not allowed to do because I'm supposed to be studying.  The injustice is something that's really, rather childish.  Doesn't niggle at me any less.

Anyway, since someone has turned up the motherfuckin' heater AGAIN! after I've turned it down at least 4 times since 4PM (it's 11PM now), I'm going to go take a shower and break the fucking remote.  Maybe, do some reading, so I don't fail my SACs tomorrow.

Yeah, that's what I have in the morning.  Chem SAC double write-up, and a Maths SAC in session 6.  Hockey tomorrow night, too.  Last session, ever.  ::cheers wildly::  Christ, I'm so unbelievably glad for that.

Today's "aw" moment:

Every so often, some little thing you say, or do, completely overwhelms me, and I remember why I absolutely adore you.

Today's word: basorexia (n.)

An overwhelming desire to neck or kiss.


Posted via web from youretrulypre.posterous

[freewrite] 27-Jul-09

Sometimes, when the urge to write comes, and I just cannot bring myself to write about him?  I go on and see if something I like comes up.

The word I'm given will be in bold at the top of every DIV. So that it's immensely clear what my prompt is.

Do note that these are most likely entire works of fiction. For example, I have never attended a funeral. And hopefully, will never again have cause to do so. But I just write what comes into my head. Capisce? So no random messages asking who died. ;)

Besides... I... don't really want to talk about her. I want to say it's too soon, but it's not. Frankly, I don't miss her like I should. In my mind, she's still the same self-professed nutter she always was. Not 6ft under because of stupid fucking decisions. I don't miss her because she's not gone. Not really.

Christ, I'm delusional.


Dirt. The giver of life, origin of all. All, according to the Bible, anyway. The flesh of our flesh, the blood of our blood. Soil, where we all came from, and where we'll all end up.

That's all I could think about, when the first spadeful of it hit her coffin. She was returning to where she belonged. And I, I was left here waiting. Waiting for her to come around, waiting for me to come to her, like she used to wait for her pretty little crocuses to come peeping out of the soil.

// I stopped writing there, because the timer went off. But I'm going to keep adding to it here. Because I can. //

The first soil, first dirt, first true indication she was gone and this was not just some silly prank she pulled, seemed to hit Katie hard. I don't know, I never realised they were even close. I thought women had some kind of pact, "the ex-girlfriend of my boyfriend is my worst enemy" or something. But no. Sometimes, I think she and Sarah got along better than she and I ever did. Even back then.

Back then. What do I remember about back then? What do I remember about her?

Oh shit, what do I remember about her? I loved her for so long, I loved her even then, and now I remember nothing?

I could be melodramatic. I could tell you I sobbed, screamed, made noises I didn't even realise I was making. But no, none of that happened. I grieved her, the way 'real men' were supposed to grieve the women they loved. In silence, in private. At least, that's what my father told me a week later, before handing me a spade (how insensitive, father dear) and telling me to help plant a tree marking her death.

That's a rather silly tradition, no? For something to live, to flourish, in the place of a person we knew and loved, and to be cheerful about such a thing? But she loved maples. That's what she told me towards the end. "Jake, be a dear and plant me a maple," she said. "Plant me a maple, I always wanted to be one of them."

We used to bicker about the demands. The stupid shit that only she would ask for. "Get me a dragon, get me a cheesecake at 4 in the morning, get me a puppy with a heart shaped marking." All these things that amounted to nothing more than brimborion; folderol to all but her. That, deep down, she and I both knew she didn't really want for anything more than proof. Just testing the limits of my love.

I'd give everything, to hear her ask me for an all-sugar Squishee one more time.

// You know, I never intended for this to turn personal, but now it has. So I draw the line right here. //

Ooh, and now I remember that only gives out one word a day.

Whatever. One will do.


SNAFU with the non-iTunes managers has left my iPod incapable of reading its own databases.  Truly, I loathe Floola right now.  I'm just going to use it as an item list exporter, from now on.  I've had enough of this shit.

Also had a longer, less broody post typed up, but accidentally hit Ctrl-F4 and... yeah.

Not good.

It's 1.30AM, I need my damn iPod, and I have to do another fucking restore.

Oh yeah, good day ahead.


Posted via web from youretrulypre.posterous

Jul 25, 2009


So.  Dad's given Van marching orders.  She's leaving.

::shrugs:: Fine.  That's her business.  Their business, really.

But grandpa wants me to get involved.  To have a word with Dad, try to convince him to let Van stay.

Good golly God.  Firstly, this shit that's happening between them has nothing to do with me.  Nothing at all.  I refuse, refuse to get involved.  I can't afford to emotionally invest myself in their petty arguments as well.

But no, "[Van]'s a good person and [I] have to convince [Dad] to let her stay".  Why the fuck?  Dad's in his forties, Van's just a little younger than Brian (just poking fun at your age again, love :P), I'd think they'd be fucking responsible enough for that.  For choosing their partners, for deciding when to turf the ones they're through with.  Van already told me they knew early on that they weren't right for each other, but he [Dad] told her to stick it out.  She did.  And she's through.  That's her choice, I respect that.

So why the hell do I need to put on my armour and come roaring up on my big white horse, to 'save' everyone?  I know Dad's being an ass for tossing out the only woman who would even consider putting up with his shit long-term.  I know that.  But it's not in Van's best interests to stay.  He's never going to change, and frankly, the two of them are too volatile together.  Even when things are good, they're generally only good because she's kept her mouth shut and essentially repressed everything.  She's had enough.  And so have I.

I'm now just waiting for the day grandpa comes around and tells me I can't leave Dad because he'll have no-one else.  Honestly, it's entirely his own fault.  He's pushed everyone away.  But wait!  He works hard!  We should excuse him every fucking mistake he makes!  Who cares if his mistakes mean everyone else suffers?  Who cares, as long as we can screw on a smile, and be subservient to him?

I care.  Oh, I care so very, very much.  And I'm absolutely through.  I refuse to get involved in their bureaucratic shit.  Benson (SVU) put it right.  "You have to sell a little piece of yourself to get the job done.  So what's the point?"

Posted via email from youretrulypre.posterous

Why do I look at Postsecrets?

I read one on Twitter that made me want to cry.

I'm 21 and married to someone I don't love any more so he can look after me financially

Posted via web from youretrulypre.posterous

Why do I assume...?

that Assumption College is in Geelong, when it's really in Kilmore?

Probably because we play so many damn games in Geelong.

Today...  we sucked.  That's all that can really be said about it.  Millie had to go fill in for Tash with the Firsts, so they stuck me as goalie.  Actually, I stuck me as goalie, because I figured the padding would keep me warm.  Hah!  I took the gloves off for 5 minutes, tops, at half-time, to have a drink.  Still couldn't feel my fingers at the end of the game.  But maybe that was because it was just retardedly cold up there.  Is it just me, or is Kilmore really close to the Great Dividing Range?

Anyway, I did alright in the first half.  If only because Jen and Nicole did all my work for me and kept the ball mostly away from the goal and out of the D.  And then... the second half and their three best players came around.  Goal after goal after goal after goal...  Urgh.  I'm kicking myself for missing them.  But their side was just... wham-wham-wham-goal.  Fucking hell.

We ended up losing 9-1 in a game which was supposed to be an easy win.  :\

There's no blame here, to be apportioned.  We tried.  We just... didn't try hard enough, I guess.

Last away game evah for me, though.  Epic relief.  No more sitting in a friggin' bus for a couple of hours to step out into the freezing cold, to run around on a faux-grass (Astroturf, I think it is) pitch and hit things into other things.

I'm home and warm with pizza.  So, I'm content.

I didn't get a photo of me in goalie gear, though.  :P  Sorry to disappoint.

Maybe next time.

Posted via web from youretrulypre.posterous

Jul 23, 2009

"Can you screw him for a position somewhere?"

Kimmy, RE: Dad's coworker in the RACGP.
In English, not getting much work done. Today's sub, Mr. Mithen, is pretty cute. Looks about 26, so, too young for me. :P
I'm tired. :\

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