Christmas shoppers ba humbug!

It’s hard to believe that a year ago, I was in Australia contemplating another Christmas without my family, constantly asked if I was going home for Christmas or why I wasn’t going home, etc… Now I am back in Canada, struggling to type this entry as my dog seems to have taken a liking to the computer.

Now Sydney has finally calmed down from trying to eat the mouse cursor on the screen and is lying on my lap keeping my legs warm, which is very useful on a day as cold as -30 with the wind chill.

It has also occurred to me that I am sitting at my computer, known T-Man in sight. Woot! I’ve officially banned him from it for awhile as:

A: He kind of ummm drools on it….
B: He hogs it on me and won’t let me back on it unless I am helping him on a part in a game he is having troubles on.
C: It turns him into a scarlety monster for some reason I haven’t figured out yet. Sorry but I don’t appreciate being hit because I tell him to get off.
D: And because I don’t quiet appreciate him using it without my permission or as soon as I get home from work and (I am barely in the front door!) it isn’t Hi Melissa how are you? It’s “Melissa computer?”

Anyways, on Saturday I successfully had my first breakdown. A customer was so mean to me that I actually cried.

It was all because this crabby feral looking lady didn’t want her son to see his Christmas presents and I was trying to help, but every time I thought I had it bagged enough she wanted another bag. (Yes because triple bagging is not an assault on the environment.) So I tried to help her but she is like no let me do it your holding the line up because there were at least 5 -6 behind her. She violently yanked at the bag I was holding and I accidentally said “You don’t have to be so grabby.” Then she went off her handle and insisted I was mouthing her off. The irony was she was mouthing me off. She was a fucking bitch! I admit I shouldn’t have said anything, but she didn’t have the right to flip out at me and then she ended her tirade with “I was trying to help you.” I managed to stay composed for three more customers and as soon as my line was cleared I burst into tears. It was embarrassing. Luckily another cashier from the front desk noticed and I sat and talked to the front end manager about what happened. I learnt that my quiet demeanour is advantageous because she found the bit about her mouthing me off hard to believe and I told other cashiers about it too and they said it was my job to bag the stuff I wasn’t doing anything wrong.

Then at the end of the line up I get a customer exactly like the first one, condescending, demanding and rude. I almost had it with people after her and I was about to go home or better yet hide under a large rock, but my manager asked me to stay an hour and half longer… I hate customers and sadly I actually wished bad things on a few customers. Nothing too evil mind you. Have people forgotten that I, the rest of the people I work with are human beings? ….guess not especially when I have heard customers refer to us as “workers.”

So….I attempted to avoid writing an angry type entry again, mostly about the trials and tribulations of being a cashier, but as you can see I have failed miserably. I could continue with the other half I was going to write, but I might get fired if they ever read my blog. Then I thought maybe I could write a Philis and Ashleigh used to be known as a Melissa and Carol story about them and meanwhile get out my frustrations in a humorous passive aggressive way. Then again I had this idea for a Christmas special, which I will draw on my negative experience and turn it into something positive for my friends and make light of the experience of being someone in the customer service industry.

I guess you could say customer service is the one profession that can turn me, as Joan would say “a red hot glowing Melissa.” I can’t wait for the Christmas shopping to be over…

P.S. Merry Christmas! I'll try to write more in the new year...

I'm Ingrid?

Your result for Are You a Jackie or a Marilyn? Or Someone Else? Mad Men-era Female Icon Quiz...

You Are an Ingrid!

You are an Ingrid -- "I am unique"

Ingrids have sensitive feelings and are warm and perceptive.

How to Get Along with Me

• * Give me plenty of compliments. They mean a lot to me.
• * Be a supportive friend or partner. Help me to learn to love and value myself.
• * Respect me for my special gifts of intuition and vision.
• * Though I don't always want to be cheered up when I'm feeling melancholy, I sometimes like to have someone lighten me up a little.
• * Don't tell me I'm too sensitive or that I'm overreacting!

What I Like About Being an Ingrid

• * my ability to find meaning in life and to experience feeling at a deep level
• * my ability to establish warm connections with people
• * admiring what is noble, truthful, and beautiful in life
• * my creativity, intuition, and sense of humor
• * being unique and being seen as unique by others
• * having aesthetic sensibilities
• * being able to easily pick up the feelings of people around me

What's Hard About Being an Ingrid

• * experiencing dark moods of emptiness and despair
• * feelings of self-hatred and shame; believing I don't deserve to be loved
• * feeling guilty when I disappoint people
• * feeling hurt or attacked when someone misundertands me
• * expecting too much from myself and life
• * fearing being abandoned
• * obsessing over resentments
• * longing for what I don't have

Ingrids as Children Often

• * have active imaginations: play creatively alone or organize playmates in original games
• * are very sensitive
• * feel that they don't fit in
• * believe they are missing something that other people have
• * attach themselves to idealized teachers, heroes, artists, etc.
• * become antiauthoritarian or rebellious when criticized or not understood
• * feel lonely or abandoned (perhaps as a result of a death or their parents' divorce)

Ingrids as Parents

• * help their children become who they really are
• * support their children's creativity and originality
• * are good at helping their children get in touch with their feelings
• * are sometimes overly critical or overly protective
• * are usually very good with children if not too self-absorbed

Take Are You a Jackie or a Marilyn? Or Someone Else? Mad Men-era Female Icon Quiz at

Centre of my Universe

Fine I admit I have been gone a long time, but what is it to you?

I haven’t had the initiative to write for anyone but myself, things I don’t feel like sharing. I mean I have been writing, just not on my blog because a lot of the things I want to write about lately is about things that are bothering me and I am not sure a public space is where it belongs. To who it is directed too needs to hear it, but it probably won’t happen yet till my “backbone” grows back or the timing is right.

Anyways….

Work could be used as a valid excuse for this absence as well. Saturday was terribly busy. Especially now that the dreaded Christmas season is upon me. I hate the Christmas season. Not the actual holiday for what its stands for, but the business side of it. They should call it Commercial-Christmas. It would be entirely more fitting. It’s a bunch of crap. Non stop money driven, who cares about what it was all about in the first place type holiday! It was the same thing at Big W too. What good will towards others? Giving because you truly want too, not because some holiday out of the year has been designated to do so? All I see is a bunch of impatient people buying presents to give to those they love (I do give them credit for that), with money, which lets face it they probably DON’T have and treating people where I work(ed) like crap because they are all stressed out. Oh poor them.

To that I say Christmas? CHRISTMAS?! BUHUMBUG! Rah! Yes I am turning into a scrooge.

I can see it now I become the scrooge of retail and on Christmas Eve I’ll be visited by three retail Christmas shopping ghosts. The ghost of Christmas shopping past sales records, the ghost of Christmas customer service present and The ghost of Christmas preparing you for Christmas shopping future/ Boxing Day of all insanity.

Anyways, I am thinking of either

A: Making Christmas presents.
B: Buying presents online
C: Buying gift cards and letting them deal with it!
D: All of the above.

This Christmas will hopefully be less lonely because it’s the first one I’ve had with them in 3 years. I had my friends and all but it just wasn’t the same. I don’t really care if I get presents this year. I’m happy just spending time with family and with the many misfits my mom has apparently invited. So far on her list 2 pregnant old lady men, one of which, who doesn’t like people doing the laundry in the laundry room provided for the residents of this complex, another a friendly p.o.l.m. who wears a red hat and thinks that everyone are slaves to rich people. Then two other older ladies one of them a next door neighbour downstairs named, who bangs on the floor downstairs frequently and coming up to tell us to turn down music that isn’t playing in our place, but next door. The other is a nice lady at the bus stop whose who has arthritis in her hands and keeps asking if there are apartments for rent where I live. Then of course mom’s special needs friend, a fifteen year old girl trapped inside a 50 year olds body, who is entirely draining, but has a good heart. Now that’s Christmas, putting aside differences and reaching out to others who are either a pain in the ass or people you frequently talk too on the bus.

So what else have I been up too since….over a month!

Not much,

Work!

Readings some books

Mom

Tony

Ignoring my writing

Mom and Tony

The occasional story idea, that I forget to write down. Curse me!

Mom and Tony

Sydney, he is so cute!

Mom and Tony

Sydney, all he wants to do is play with me.

Mom and Tony

Mom and Tony

Mom and Tony

I sprained my pinkie finger!

Mom and Tony

Mom and Tony

Mom and Tony

I burned myself with soup one night in an unmentionable place. It really hurt.

Mom and Tony

Mom and Tony

Mom and Tony

Mom and Tony

Work!

And finally…

Mom and Tony…who knew?

My centre of my universe has become seriously out of whack.

It used to be writing, friends the reading of and occasional good book, university and unfortunately my financial and personal woes, which I dumped unnecessarily on people and I apologise if I did. I never realised how annoying it is.

This whole idea of the centre of the universe came about during a discussion with one of my moms friends. She believes everyone has one. And it is something so important to the individual that it truly shows. Strangely it feels as if everyone in my family including my dog seems to believe whether unintentionally or intentionally, in the case of Sydney I am probably understandably the centre or his universe; that I cater to their universal centres. Something I find entirely frustrating. I just want someone not in there universe to add to mine, that I can talk too in person whilst I am in this dastardly transition period. I know I have friends, but they are so far away.

Anyways I am sorry I have been gone so long, but now I hope I am back to the blogging world more regularly again.

P.S. Tony has frequently taken over my computer!

I believe in God

This entry is somewhat inspired by Amy’s many blog post on religion, but mostly about the religiously confounding themed dreams I have been having the past year or so. I guess I figured it was finally time I added my experience with God and religion.

Perhaps I should start by saying I have been confused by religion since I was young. First I was Mormon, then I was Seventh Day Adventist, then I was Mormon again, then I was a somewhat of an atheist, then agnostic, then I thought of maybe being Mormon again, that was until I considered Buddhism, but that was before I decided that I believe in God so the previous was kind of pointless and now my mom (intentionally or unintentionally I am not quite sure) is trying to convert me into a Baptist. They should have frequent flier miles for people who can’t make up their mind spiritually because I think I would have a lot of them. I’ve come to the conclusion as of now that I believe in God or a higher power, but I don’t believe in church or an organized way of believing in God if that makes sense. There is just too much evidence in my life that proves what I believe.

I don’t know if my mom accepts that. She says that I am probably going through the same thing she went through with not believing and what not, but I am not her, and I consider my situation to be different. My mom just won’t leave it alone, she says she is not pressuring me, but she is, just differently that Sue-Woman was. Both said similar things. “Going to church makes me happy and gives me a good special feeling and I want to share that with you. I want you to have that same feeling too.” Never mind the fact that I am perfectly happy to go on believing in God in my own way and I don’t try to push my beliefs on others. They can believe what they want. I don’t care, what works for me may not work for others and that includes the whole church thing.

My religious confusion has showed up in many of my dreams. Dreams I have never decided to share with anyone till now. I used to dream since I was 14 or so that the devil, which I never physically see is dragging me through my bed down to hell and I all I see is blackness. I now understand that it may be a sign of my depression growing up. But I digress. I immediately pray to God for help and I reach out for hands to grab. I struggle with it. I demand for help almost. Then hands that I never see reach out to me. For ages I could never reach until I willed myself to do it. Sometimes I am brought out high above the floor in my room towards heaven, but I lose grip or evil hands grabs me again and I fall back to earth. There is always some tug of war between the good and evil hands grabbing me. One time a ghost grabbed me to save me and the other time it was invisible person of some sort. Another time it was an angel and this time I even saw light and then I realized it was now no longer an angle but a giant butterfly dragging me through a beautiful mystical forest.

Then a few months before I returned to Canada, I dreamt I was walking up a long hill on a beautiful sunny day. I then thought I believe in God and Jesus and that he died for my and everyone’s sins and I believe the world will end one day. I felt kind of fearful. Then moments later I heard a loud trumpeting noise. I look to my left and Jesus is in the clouds. I was terrified, mostly because Jesus looked like he was pissed off with me.

Then last night I finally saw the hands good strong ones, which turned out to be Jesus. I told God I wanted to go to heaven and this time I made it there. I was kind of indifferent about meeting him. I wasn’t too happy or excited. He looked like the Jesus in paintings, but something seemed off. Sometimes I could see him clearly with a heavenly white light and other times he looked kind of normal. He never seemed emotive either. I desperately wanted to see the scars on his hands for some reason and I was constantly denied this no matter how hard I tried to look. Then I met God, but I couldn’t see him only feel his presence. God spoke, but most of the time I couldn’t hear him all I felt was a strong powerful roaring sensation. It felt like my ears were going to rip apart every time he spoke. I desperately wanted to talk to God. In my dream God told me that I wouldn’t remember most of the dream, which ironically I don’t. I told God that I believed in him and Jesus to which he seemed or I felt he was pleased to hear. However, he became angry when I asked him where he came from and why he created us. I got the impression it was not a question to ask. I even discussed Douglas Adams with him and some of the themes in his book the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy to which God said it was a bunch of crap and the answer was not 42.

Soon Jesus showed me around heaven and he gave me a list of every movie I had watched that had guns or violence in them, which was 314. He then said the book that was being written about me was still in progress and I am forbidden to look at it. Jesus appearance constantly kept changing. The only thing that stayed the same was he was wearing white.

Then the dream got weird when God sent me back in time to make sure Jesus died on the cross for humanities sins because someone somehow tampered with the events in time and stopped it from happening. When I was sent back to the biblical times it looked like modern times and I was following Jesus everywhere to try and convince him of what he had to do, but he wouldn’t listen too me.

So anyways I was wondering if anyone had any insight to these dreams because they seriously confuse me. I would write more but my mom wants the dang computer back.

P.S. Sydney’s vendetta against Douglas Adams cost me $8. I had to replace the library book he ate. The End!

Pictures and my puppy wuppy.

Hello world of possible readers and friends,

I kept wondering where I would get pictures of my cute little puppy and then it occurred to me mom took pictures. Therefore I have a few to show thanks to my mom’s magical happy fun camera.

Me at the community garden in July.


Sydney!

A picture Tony took. I thought it was cool.

Sydney and Weiser (mom's dog)

Tony and Sydney

The past few days have been entirely strange and stressful.

First off I found out my brother has been diagnosed with severe scoliosis, which is the curving of the spine. It’s not good.

Then I had a debunkle with Wal-Mart and McDonalds, which I think I have explained to death!

Good old Sydney. What is there to say about him? He is annoying. He loves socks and underwear, so much in fact my mom was carrying a pair to the laundry basket and he attempted to steal her underwear from her hands. He constantly nips at poor Wieser’s heals, but Wieser is too nice to do anything except the occasional passive aggressive snarl. Sydney also chewed up a library book. (I guess he doesn’t like Douglas Adams.) Then he got into my purse and chewed up my watch strap. The only thing that keeps Sydney out of trouble is the fact that he is cute and it’s hard to stay mad at him and he inspired a character in Fizzy Lemonade, who also uses his cuteness as a scapegoat. In fact the character is so cute he becomes Officer Octogenarian’s rival in a contest to find the most beautiful cutest sentient being in the universe. I hope to have a new chapter of Fizzy Lemonade up soon by the way.

I will write more when I can think of something more productive to mention.

P.S. My dog ate a bunch of my cough candies.

The death of the author is birth of the reader!

I decided that I since I have deprived people of my new works long enough and the endless promising to write more. I shall share a bit of Fizzy Lemonade that I have written lately.

“Ashleigh, Ashleigh, terrible news!” says Roland, a black Labrador, with an adorable yet annoying smiley type face.
“What?” Ashleigh replies.
“Our Author friend has died,” Roland whined. “You know Sarah Evans. I saw her book published this morning you know that means she has passed on to writer heaven. You know the system of signs, the place all great writers go.”
“What?” Ashleigh repeats, dumbfounded.
“Sarah’s an author,” says Barthes, his Husky companion. Husky as in the dog not husky as in husky, but you know the breed of dog…
“Ummm why is that terrible?” Ashleigh asks.
“Well if she’s an author she is dead!” Roland remarks. “DEAD!”
“Yes and I she must be pregnant too,” Barthes adds.
“There is also a big baby boom too!” Roland says.
“Let me guess they are all readers,” says Ashleigh. “You do realise that an author’s death is only metaphorical.”
“What?” says Barthes.
“Sarah isn’t dead,” says Ashleigh. “She was merely the first reader. Readers are the ones that say what a book is about. Therefore there are no author only readers and the author therefore enters a symbolic death.”
“I don’t understand!” says Roland.
“Sarah’s isn’t dead,” says Ashleigh. “It’s to do with the system of signs. Language doesn’t belong to the author. It belongs to everyone. Therefore there can be no authors anyways only interpreters.”
“But she is an author not an interpreter!” says Barthes. “Authors die. Interpreters work at pregnant old lady man conferences and translate old Fergarianese.”
“And then readers are born,” Roland continues. “But when they become an author they die.”
“You’re misconstruing an entire theory,” says Ashleigh.
“So are you coming to the funeral?” asks Barthes, completely ignoring Ashleigh’s common sensical answers.
“AN ENTIRE THEORY!” Ashleigh bellows.
“You’re are so disrespectful,” Roland growls. “Have you know respect for authors?”
“She is being disrespectful to authors,” a lonely dejected voice in the background calls. “Lets get her!”
“Yeah! Good idea lets get her!” says Barthes.
Ashleigh is suddenly chased down the dirty alley way by a black American cocker spaniel, a black and white Shiatsu Terrier of all cuteness, (both of which are important enough to be named later as nothing of ill will is intended towards them) and the aforementioned Roland and Barthes, who are coincidentally named after the crazy French guy Roland Barthes who actually conceived the idea, that was misinterpreted by the two of Ashleigh’s pursuers.

(c) Copyright 2008 by Melissa McKenna no part of this may be reproduced with out written permission.

What do you think?

So what has happened since I last wrote…

Well I am still couch bound for starters, but I am getting used to the vegetable-onion couch as I like to call it.

I have a cold or some sort of something that is making me sick. Urgh! Although, I was particualrily pleased I could have the cough (lollies) candy I like. They didn’t have the brand I liked back in Australia…

I miss Australia.

Winter has arrived and I am not ready. I am barely acclimatised as it is!

I now work at Wal-Mart. Satisfaction is Guaranteed Always! I have less hours here so I am officially going to devote myself to my writing when I am not working. It’s not that bad to be a cashier. I mean you say hello you scan, scan, scan take the payment and say goodbye. The End! Oh yes and the Wal in Wal-Mart is short for Walton as in Sam Walton the company’s creator.

McDonalds probably thinks I am passive aggressive, which I think I am too.

My dog Sydney has a new obsession, the computer keyboard. He was sitting on my lap last night and he kept trying to type stuff with his floppsy white paws and/or licking my fingers. I put him on the ground but he kept jumping up to sit with me. Maybe he missed me while I was at work? You know your life is boring when you write about your dog. He attempting to sabotage this blog entry as I write this.

My birthday is in 10 days! My mom and I are going to the pub across from where we live for a meal and a celebratory drink! Woot!

P.S. Sydney likes noses too!

3 things (and then some) that have happened since my last entry...

The number 3 has been popping up a lot lately.

I have 3 best friends…I am not naming names…

I’ve crashed on 3 different couches.

I was hired by 3 places whilst in Lethbridge.

I lost my dog 3 years ago and now I have a new one.

Things have definitely changed in many more ways since I’ve come back to Canada.

I turned on the Price is Right the other day and instead of Bob Barker, like I was expecting it was Drew Carey. I kept thinking “what the f*&^@ happened to Bob Barker?” Go figure he retired after 35 years in 2007. Where was I when this all happened? Oh right I was in Australia.

Australia….

I miss it a lot.

I miss Bob Barker. I used to watch him when I came home from school for lunch when I was in grade five. Sometimes I’d feign being sick so I could watch the second half. Strange I know. I wanted to see who one the grand prize. I have no idea why but I really liked the show.

Things have been going OK now, despite the fact that I am without a room. I am sleeping on the couch. I am the mercy of my mom’s night owlness. She doesn’t go to bed and she sits there till 12 a.m. or a later peeling onions, chopping onions, chopping potatoes, carrots… the list goes on. She is either dehydrating or canning the vegetables from her garden. I think she has done quite well. The house smells of onions mind you and so does the couch, but I live with it. It’s my own fault. You see when I ran away to Lethrbridge. My mom gave the second bedroom back to Tony, now I would feel bad if I kicked him out again. So for now I am couch bound until I find my own place or my mom changes her mind. The second may be happening you never know. Although I am not sure I want the room it smells like dehydrated onions and dog pee. The dang dogs go where ever they want and they have this doggy like fascination with my brother’s room. Sydney my dog is getting better slowly and my mom used vinegar to get some of the smell out.

I have been in a grouchy mood. I guess it’s a bit better than the previous feeling of depression. I really don’t like working in fast food. I had the opportunity to get away from it but because of 50 cents difference in pay. I screwed it up. I still feel bad about that.

So I wonder did I ever like working at McDonalds beforehand? I seem to really hate it now. Here is some evidence of my distain…

“Today was a good day. I am finally done with McDonalds. I
slacked off too. This is the last time I have to hear a manager rag on me to do
something. Usually I do something after all I am paid too but, it was my last
day and all I kind of just felt like it.
Manager: "Melissa find someting to do." or "I am sure there is lots to do"

Me: "OK." *continues to do nothing.* Talks to crew member also doing nothing, but not getting in trouble. Grr.. the irony eh?

Me thinking: What are they going to do fire me. Ha ha.

It feels weird. Today will be the last day I have to put
breakfast parts away, sit in drive thru and sadly the last time I will see my
friends. No more till, no more angry customers, I am glad to be gone. This is my
last fast food job I want out of the
industry.”

- February 15, 2006

Oh wells I might not have to be there much longer. I just got hired at Wal-Mart. It is pretty much the equivalent of Big-W with a bit of Woolworths jammed into it as they have some grocery items. Is this weird I miss working at Big W? I won’t go into my opinions on the company. Amy probably knows what I think of it. Anyways, who cares it is a better job than nothing. Not that I am unhappy to be employed. It’s better than the luck I was having back in Australia. I also think it’s ironic because the Wal in Wal-Mart I think is sort of Walter. One of my characters is named Walter…I find that entirely coincidental.

Australia….

I really miss it.

I think I already mentioned that, but I think that’s where some of my sadness is derived from. Not only that but my massive debts. The government is mad at me because I am behind in three payments. Yikes! I want to tell them go away I am will pay you but I have no money to do that at the moment. Now on top of this I am sick. I have a cold and then I found out I had a stomach virus of some kind. How annoying. I was told to take a couple of days off of work something I can’t afford to do.

Right now my dog Sydney is quite the character. He keeps trying to hump my leg. He goes after my underwear and bras. I think he has a lingerie fetish as well as a foot fetish. I swear he won’t leave my feet or anything related to feet alone. I constantly say “my feet are not your chew toy.” Mom says the same thing. Then not to long ago this cranky pre menopausal pregnant old lady woman accused Sydney of doing the dastardly deed of impregnating her ugly terrier because she has seen another black and white dog roaming around. Little does she know he is still too young to know what it is meant for, he is five months old so he is just coming into his puppy sexuality if that’s what you want to call it and he seems more interested in himself or boy dogs, particularly Hev-Lady’s dog Weiser. I am not saying he is that way, but I won’t be surprised if Nigel does an outing on him. Oh yes he doesn’t leave the house on his own…so I know he is innocent of all claims against him. I hope I have a picture I can put up soon.

I want to write more of Fizzy Lemonade…I always get inspired when every I walk the dog for some reason. However, I keep dreaming about killer robots who shot at people they interpret to hate robots or the government or something. I had this long complicated dreams twice now. I told my mom and she pretty much demanded that I write it down, but I don’t really care about the robot story right now. I am sure if it was indeed a dingmare I will continue to dream about them or the idea will come back to me when I am ready to flesh it out more. As I am writing this the robots have identified themselves as characters and are deeply offended I don’t want to write at story about them…perhaps I will write the synopsis of my dreams. Then come back to it.

I thought it would go with my intended theme of three by talking about three different things but I think it was 6 or 7 oh wells.

P.S. Carol is feeling a bit sad lately and I am not sure how to cheer her up…

P.S.S. I can’t wait for the massive road trip in August!

Rough Transistion!!

It has suddenly occurred to me while sitting and playing video games on my computer in Edmonton bus terminal, with at least 4hours till I leave for Prince George B.C that I have neglected my blog for over an entire month. AN ENTIRE MONTH! Whoops sorry. I hope it’s not to late too

DATE UP! DATE UP! DATE UP! DATE UP! DATE UP! NOW! NOW! NOW! NOW! NOW!

Here is some of the reason for my absence the past month…

I am so depressed recently it’s only now that I feel like actually attempting a blog entry.

I am immensely frustrated!!!!

I was spending time with mom and brother.

And lets see painting doors and cleaning my grandfathers house he was renovating. I hope it burns to the ground.

My Aunty thinks I am condescending and rude.

My grandma, or should I say Sue-Woman has probably disowned me.

All because my mom got involved and sent some nasty e-mail about events previous and recently between my family and mom.

I guess to be frank, my life feels like it has turned to shit. My entire family has turned on me, except my mom of course. I have finally joined the ranks of pariah in my dysfunctional family. And the most of it has nothing to do with me. I am suffering for problems mostly between my mom and family. I know I am a part of it, but still why do I have to be?!

Scarily for a while there I thought of ending it all! I am not embarrassed to write that either. I am sure there are others who feel the same way at one time or another.

The only reason I am here is because of my three best friends 2 Amy and Chris who still e-mail me and let me know they care and Carol who helped me through the most trying time of my life to date, my mom despite some rough patches since I have been here and my little brother, who I immensely care about. These people and my all my friends are my family now. Fuck the rest of them!

Anyways, I digress, a lot has happened in this time period. This entry may get a little depressing. DEPRESSING! Because lets face it I am depressed and this is not about attention seeking of anything like that I am just stating a fact.

I went to B.C to live with my mom after Australia. 20 hour flight, 23 hour bus ride…

My mom gave me a puppy named Sydney. He is cute and I apparently he was used as emotional bate as if!!!

Saw my brother for the first time in 3 years and suddenly realised how much he has changed. Holy crap has he gotten tall.

Played Lego with my brother, my mom ended up destroying our creations accidentally I assume, well it was in the way.

Things were going OKish until almost almost a month later due to unforeseen circumstances, which I will not discuss on a public space…(most of my friends know what happened anyways). I went to Alberta partly because of the unforeseen event and partly because of pressure from Sue-Woman. Sue-Woman, who I can’t quite decide yet if I see as a grandma anymore…I could go on about her right now…but I won’t. Besides only three people believe me about what happened.

Now two weeks later I am going back to B.C. to live with my mom because of pressures and stress from Sue-Woman. I managed to get a job at the old McDonalds I worked at and Zellers a department store in which Carol works at. I turned down Zellers much to the (rightfully so) dissatisfaction of Carol I’ll write more about her in a minute. However, here is the big part. I had no accommodation because stupid students, came in August and took most of the places and the cheaper places where in the dodgy parts of town. And, AND this is a big one, Sue-Woman said she’d help me but then she turned around and didn’t because the place I found was too expensive and she didn’t think I should be living on the West Side. So it was either stay with Carol and her sister for a while and possibly get them evicted because I wasn’t suppose to be staying there for too long or stay in a woman shelter till I had enough money for damage deposit and rent in October.

For two wees let’s just say I was in the presense of a scarlety monster, being forced, FORCED to go to church and no where to live, which was constantly joked about as if it were some kind of joke. I was an emotional wreck. I also realised there error of my ways from the first incident…. The end…If I had a choice I’d would not go to either place I’d go home to Australia. Home, I’ve lost it. It’s as if I lost the love of my life. I want to go back so bad!

Then I got my old job at Burger King and McDonlads a week later. It felt so weird, like I was having an out of body experience. I felt like I shouldn’t be there for some reason.

Most of the friends agree with me in my decision and even if they didn’t it’s not there’s to make. Sue-Woman doesn’t agree, I think she might disown me too. She says I am making a big mistake…she doesn’t know I have left yet, at this point.What ever non-likingness between her and my mom is their problem, not mine, but I think I have ended up on the other side of Sue-Woman’s wrath, with my mom. I always wondered after Carol actually brought it up how can a person who isn’t even blood related have so much power and control over family affairs.

One word!

MONEY!

It’s the root of all evil.

The only good thing about coming back to Canada thus far has been seeing Mom, Tony and Carol. Carol is awesome. She seemed more positive at first, then some of the old habits I remembered so well surfaced…think Philis like behaviours. The only people I missed while away was Carol, Becky, Mom and Tony. I never missed Sue-Woman in fact I dreaded calling her and I felt even more depressed every time I had to add to the God Damn Fucking “Tally!!!” Lump sum payment my ass. She can disinherit me!

P.S. More positive entries will come soon!

The Adventure ends but the A.E.S.M continues.

“What is the A.E.S.M?” asked John.
“I thought you would never ask,” said Amelia. “It is the Alien
Ethnic Society and Melissa.”
“Umm… OK said John.
“Hey who are these morons?” said Wild Will.
The two members of the A.E.S.M., one a cynical Russian Canadian, the other and eccentric Eurasian Australian stare blankly at Wild Will. How odd thought the Russian Canadian girl.
“Oh forgive me for being rude,” said Amelia. “That there is Melissa, we call her Gandhi and that is Chris, we call him Tori Pocoshrew.”
“How’s it going eh?” said Melissa.
“Nooninooninooninoo,” said Chris.
“There is another member, Antonia but she is not here,” said Amelia.
“Oh what, did Wild Will eat her?” said John sarcastically.
“No she is a distance member,” said Melissa.

- In search of a name (You’re So Amy I bet you Think This Story Is
About You!) June 2006

As promised here is an entry about some of the most important people in my life also known as the A.E.S.M.

I remember the day the A.E.S.M. (The Alien Ethnic Society and Melissa). (sometimes also referred to as the A.E.S.M…also Kate) was formed over two years ago for some reason I don’t remember. Perhaps it was a formation of our long lasting iconic friendship. It’s an iconic name and group, whose activities and adventures I remember frequently through out my time. I consider the A.E.S.M to be one of the most significant things about my visit to Australia. I remember our special group to be a time of creativity, the stories I wrote, the movies we made and of bonding, the Rockhampton Show and our random meetings at shopping fair and the uni library.

This is how I first described the A.E.S.M over two years ago.

“Ah yes the A.E.S.M. The Alien Ethnic Society and Melissa.
Chris and Amy came up with it, the reason is Chris is Eurasian, Amy is
Italian…actually she is part South Sea Islander I think, Antonia is from Hong
Kong and I am from Canada. Chris reckons we should find an organization to
support. Are symbol would be a picture of me as Ghandi. Hmm… I have interesting
friends. I don’t think I will meet anyone like them ever again. It must have
been fate that I ended up here in Australia. I think tomorrow when I am not so
tired I will draft rules for the club just for the heck of it.”
- June, 2
2006.

The original members were:

Amy: One of my best friends here in Australia. We can talk about anything. I still have no way of explaining my inspiration to talk about Bollywood, one of her many obsessions with her that one day because it’s not something I usually talk about or really have a profound interest in, although I do like it. The time I have spent with her felt like we had been friends for years. It hardly occurred to me that she lived in Canberra for most of it. Carol said I had it coming because I abandoned her, but I knew straight away our friendship was different. I always looked forward to seeing her again, because every time she came back she had changed so much and but she always felt like the same Amy I always knew, like we had never really been apart for months at a time. I always felt like I had grown more whenever I came into her midst. We partied both New Years here the second one surely showed how much we changed. I still remember the day she left for Canberra. She is a beautiful person and I will really miss her when I am back in Canada.

Chris: He is seriously my muse. Half the stuff in Superheroes was developed just by random musing, brainstorming talking about ideas and strange conversations that know one understood but us and seemed to confound those that happened to over hear it except for Amy. I remember talking about my writing efforts with Chris at least once or twice every time I saw him and quite frequently through text messages and msn. Sometimes it was the only thing we talked about, whether it was Carol stories, Wild Will, or Song of the Superheroes. I also let him be the first to see certain bits of stories as his input and approval were highly important. I still remember the first thing Chris said to me. “You’re from Canada. Alanis Morissette is my idol.”

My all time favourite quote from Chris was just after the Rockhampton Show in 2006 and we were waiting for pizza and he suddenly said “When I have a child I’ll name it Melissa…if it’s a boy.” Everyone in the car burst out laughing. Chris is the only that can make me laugh till I cry. I’ve lost track how many times that has happened now.

My favourite memory was when we played Monopoly and randomly named all the pieces after Song of the Superheroes characters. All I remember is the money bags was Philis because it is fat, the iron was Sarah because it symbolised what a woman is supposed to do and the car was Officer Octogenarian because it was sleek and stylish. I wish I had written the others down. Chris also came to believed he corner powers whenever we played Monopoly.

All my flatmates most likely think that I am obsessed with Chris and Amy as I used to talk about them all the time. I always thought and truly believed that they were the coolest. My current flatmate Justine thought I was hyping Chris up before she met him. She said. Surely no one could be that cool, but I met him and he was. Well of course you think I would lie about a thing as important as coolness. I’ll miss him heaps too.

Antonia: Sadly, I’ve lost contact with her now. However, the time spent with her was memorable. I remember how she used to say “sure, sure.” Amy, Chris and I would often say how beautiful she was. My favourite memory of Antonia was the first of the A.E.S.M. productions of A Flat To Myself in which she died by poison lemonade.

Kinwai: He always stuck me as someone who is really quiet. I never really talked to him much, but I liked him. I remember how he used to come and meet Antonia after Media Ethics and collect 10 cent pieces for her. Amy and I used to say that he obviously really liked her you could just tell.

Kate: I’ve lost contact with Kate over the past year, but the time we did spend together was fun. Especially when we filmed Flat to Myself 2: How Convenient and our random clubbing escapades with Chris. We also used to discuss Superheroes but differently.

And of course me which is pretty self explanatory.

Others have become honorary members

P.S. Wild Will

And some significant rules have been broken (more about that later.)

The original rules of the A.E.S.M. were…

AESM (Alien Ethnic Society and Melissa)
Statement of Principles and Guidelines

1. This is
the most important rule: Friends are first always. This principle out weighs all
guidelines
2. Joan is not allowed into the AESM, under no circumstances, if
allowed in. It shall be called AESEM Alien Ethnic Society Excluding Melissa.
Posters shall be made to accompany this rule.
3. No Americans aloud, unless
they are nice and they know Canadians don’t live in igloos, are lumberjacks or
use dog sleds as a mode of transportation. Melissa gets very offended when they
think this.
4. Martians are ok, they can join anytime
5. “Eh” is a
Canadian word :)
6. Believe in the principles set forth by Gandhi, looking
up on him and his life is essential.
7. You must be ethnic in origin being
from a city or town doesn’t count.
8. Learn the secret handshake and goodbye
salute, which is currently in the developmental stages
9. Being a distant
member is allowed, but keeping in contact with you ASEM friends while abroad is
very important or you will be deemed an inactive member. No one likes them.
Mwhahahaha!
10. Bollywood is an excellent form of entertainment
11. You
must like Alanis Morissette or at least some of her songs.
12. Wild Will is
Melissa’s imaginary dog hero. You must not make fun of this, you also read all
stories.

Principle 9 has been the most consistent and now that I am going to be even more distant from the A.E.S.M . I think it as well as The first one on the list is the most important.

The most significant rules to be broken were Principle 5 I hardly every say Canadian words anymore, Principle 8 no secret handshake was every developed although we did share secret wisdom and friendship, and most importantly….

Principle 2! No Joans allowed, blah, blah you know the rest. Chris even memorised it.

It was sadly created at a time when I was in the midst of a love hate relationship with Joan. Not to mention one sided as I was the one who drafted and created these principles and guidelines. Since this time, I come to be good friends with Joan despite the rocky start and some strange pointless arguments later. She is really the only friend that I argue with the most and the only one that can get a rise out of me. Sometimes we don’t see eye to eye and for some reason I turn into a scarlety monster or as Joan put it ‘a down right bitch.’ Which let’s face it I can be. For some reason Joan is the only one who can push my buttons and is allowed to anger me and get away with it. Chris once said that I like Joan but on my own terms. She made for some interesting stories, like the one time she made me eat lemon me-rang pie of the floor. Her annoyingness is one of her many eccentric and dazzling characteristics that I have come to tolerate and I am not sure if I like sometimes, despite people (I am not naming anyone) telling me I shouldn’t be friends with her. (Everyone is entitled to there own opinions.)And because she is an important person in my life it’s fitting that this principle should be changed or altogether eliminated, but I want to leave it for ironies sake. Principle 2 has been broken Joan can be a member of the A.E.S.M. Seeing as it’s all about friendship and not exclusion. I made a new rule that contradicts it and to eliminate the exclusionary principle altogether. I apologise for this rule and I apologise to Joan if she ever felt excluded from our group or uninvited. So you can be rest assured that it will still be the A.E.S.M. and not the A.E.S.E.M. unless you count me leaving for Canada? In which case the second name would be very fitting, but in completely different circumstances. So here it is.

Lucky Principle 13: Guidelines can be changed to suit circumstances. For example Principle 2 which was undeniably harsh and exclusionary.

I guess you could say it’s the new A.E.S.M. It’s out with the old and in with the new.

P.S.: Wild Will Rocks

Another highlight of the A.E.S.M. is the stories written and inspired by it’s members old and new. Five stories well (six if you count the last chapter in the second series of Wild Will vs. The A.E.S.M stories) were written specifically about members, tailored to their eccentricities or things that we joked about. In total there were nine stories, littered with off centred humour, inside jokes, meanness regrettably towards certain non-members and most importantly Wild Will, Amy’s cult figure and ‘my imaginary dog hero.’

They were:

In search of a name (You’re So Amy I bet you Think This Story Is About You!)

A Flat to Myself…(You’re so Chris… I bet you think this story is
about you.)

Antonia French and the 12 Dozen Singing Dogs(You’re so
Antonia I bet you think this story is about you.)

The Horror of
Love…(You’re so Kinwai…this story is definitely not about you.)

Wild
Will and Melissa the Writer vs. Justin and Joan P.S. Ruthless Roy

A
Multimedia of Problems Part 1: The created turns on the creator

A
Multimedia of Problems Part 2: It’s all in the name

A
Multimedia of Problems Part 3: You’re so Kate…this story IS about you!

Then of course I can go with out mentioning Song of the Superheroes.

“Melissa! I want to be in a different story,” said Wild
Will. “Write me in a different one or I will eat you.”
“What is a Kate
featured story not good enough for you?” Chris asked.
Melissa writes a
paragraph or two in her notebook about Wild Will. She then shows it to Wild
Will.
“A cameo appearance?” said Wild Will. “Whose idea was this?”
“Amy’s,” said Melissa.
- A Multimedia of Problems Part 3: You’re so Kate…this story IS about you!

I guess you could say Wild Will needed a bigger place to run a muck, being the wanker of a Rottweiler he is. I don’t know if it can be directly related, but Song of the Superheroes never would have been if it weren’t for my friends in the A.E.S.M who gave me the inspiration. Scarily I had a whole plan to turn the A.E.S.M. stories into a novel called What is the Meaning of this Madness?! Now I know that it wasn’t meant to be but these nine stories were actually preludes to something much bigger and very special to me, my first ever novel. Not to mention my favourite offbeat character I created three years before I came to Australia arrived in a proper story Song of the Superheroes and he will be a fully fledged main character in the sequels to come. This is all because of the A.E.S.M.

P.S. Wild Will Rocks My Socks

One thing I remember specifically that involved the original four members of the A.E.S.M. was the Flat To Myself franchise. Sometimes when it rains I think about it, Antonia coming out of the fridge, Amy being impaled by a scrub brush, (I am so taking that brush back to Canada! :P) Chris being Chris and me being a narrating ghost. I think about the sequel especially when I was procrastinating for a big assignment the next day, (as it was made the day before I had two assignments due.) I reminisced about Kate and her basket ball throwing and Chris, with the pictures of Antonia (which I think was a heart) and Amy (a pair of boobies) on the brick wall shouting strange things at it while banging at the pictures with a knife. And who could forget the phrase “She has lottery tickets!” or the girl with three voices Melora, Wild Will and Carol.

I’ll miss the time I spent with the A.E.S.M. more than I will miss Australia. I missed everyone before they even left, yet somehow it still hasn’t sunk in. I have nothing but fond memories of the A.E.S.M.

P.S. Props go to Joan for her idea about the red cordial in Song of the Superheroes, which was my favourite scene and oddly was titillating for someone else to read. Hmmm…I had Doritos for lunch.

Surprise entry.

Surprise! I updated today!

I guess I shouldn’t be slightly embarrassed when a Brazilian in the computer lab says I am very beautiful?

What could be the most random thing to happen at the moment? How about a Brazilian named Wagner who adds you to msn but talks to you in Portuguese and when that fails translates it on Babel Fish so it is still a bunch of gibberish to me? This has happened more than once. I find it quite random. I don’t speak Portuguese, he doesn’t speak English. I don’t see how any kind of relationship is possible with the language barrier. Not unless one of us learns the language. I don’t see myself learning Portuguese in the near future, although I am particularly interested in French for some reason. Anyways he wants to make kissy with me and I don’t. THE END!

I guess my many encounters with Brazilians can go into my stock pile of memories of my time in Australia.

I still remember a 36 year old Brazilian saying to me. “I dream of you at night! I am 36 I like 23.”

Ewwww!!!

And my new favourite quotes so far.

“How you this my angel?”

“It would like to call you pra to go in boate, q you only goes to travel.”

“If some day you will have time, you encina me the English?”

“What it was with you?”

“You this gripada?”

When I showed Joan this her response was wtf, along with various lol’s.

I don’t know why but I find this slightly amusing. He just doesn’t get it. Here is a sampling of the msn conversation.

Wagner: It would like to give a kiss today to you!
Me thinking: Oh dear God!
Me: I have girl friend.
Wagner: I no understand.
Me: I don't want to kiss. I am saving my kisses for my future boyfriend back in Canada who happens to be a girl.”
Wagner: No understand!
Then two minutes later.
Wagner: I am very happy for you.
Me thinking: What the?
Me: Thank you why?
Wagner: Very pretty e a person to have confidence in the other and to be faithful
Another two minutes later…
Wagner: you would like to find somebody as one day!

Oh wells this has given me the silly Melissa giggles. THE END!

P.S. I changed a rule in the A.E.S.M. Rule 13. Lucky 13. Rules can be changed to suit circumstances. For example rule # 2 which was undeniably harsh. Chris will understand what I mean.

P.P.S. I have a longer entry planned before I make leaving to Australia dedicated to the A.E.S.M. Hopefullly I sit down and write it.

The long awaited entry.

Long time no write. Chris made that point to me extra clear when he said to Amy and I on Monday morning in Shopping Fair that her and I are becoming a bit slack with blog entries.

“I keep checking your blogs and I keep seeing ‘Creature of Habit’ and ‘Goodbye Democrats’.

Joan remarked how she is updating more regularly.

Then Chris demanded once more.

“DATE UP! DATE UP! DATE UP! NOW! NOW! NOW!”

I don’t know why I have become slacker with the blog writing business. I could have blamed it on uni, but I did make a point in previous entries that I was writing purely for procrastination. Then it could have been work, but I only work six hours a week usually so I should have heaps of time to write something. I think I am just slack. I always seem to start my blog entries with ‘I haven’t written in a long time.’ Gosh gee wiz maybe I should stop stating the fricken obvious.

I have decided to share with you a story. I haven’t written one in ages. It’s a Philis story. Somewhat inspired by my literature courses I took. I might even put it into Fizzy Lemonade. :P Because Ashleigh has finally discovered her area of expertise in her nerd nerdy retardedness! I already showed Chris but I made more changes...

Ashleigh and Philis are sitting in the lounge room in a small rose coloured apartment, house sitting for Mrs. Lachlan’s Mum.

Philis: (Frantically) Ashleigh, Ashleigh!!!
Ashleigh: (Somewhat annoyed) Yes Philis?
Philis: I was reading..
Ashleigh: Did you just say you were reading?
Philis: Yes, surprised? You think I can read because my eyes our covered in fat?
Ashleigh: Yes actually.
Philis: What’s That’s terrible!!
Ashleigh: No I mean I am surprised you are reading! So what was your general complaint about the book?
Philis: Who said I was complaining?
Ashleigh: You always complain Philis.
Philis: Noooooooo I don’t the only thing I complain about is being fat, which I am. Is it not justifiable to complain about being fat? I wanted to tell you about this book which is ironically fat.
Ashleigh: OK….
Philis: You see this book by D.H. Lawrence, Lady Chatterley’s Lover, but it’s boring it keeps going on about ‘the bitch goddess’ and how machines will take over the world and our turning away from nature.
Ashleigh: Well I guess you could say the book was a bit prophetic machines our common place. Wait your reading D.H. Lawrence?
Philis: Yes. By the way who is the bitch goddess? Is she fat complainer so people think she is fat, but she is beautiful like a goddess?
Ashleigh: I’m pretty sure that Officer Olds reference was in no ways literary related. Philis: Sooooo who is the bitch goddess Lawrence was always on about?
Ashleigh: Success, wealth! A common theme in modernist writing is the desire to return to nature.
Philis: Nooooo that’s stupid why did he just go live in a forest if loved nature so much?
Ashleigh: Philis you are talking about one of the more prolific authors of the modern era. These concerns were present in his time.
Philis: Modern era? It’s modern now.
Ashleigh: No many would say were in the area of postmodernism.
Philis: Nooooo that’s not what I want to argue about.
Ashleigh: I don’t even want to argue.
Philis: Well before you interrupted me with your nerd nerdy retarded weird girl words because you think I can’t read because I am fat.
Ashleigh: I didn’t say that. Although I am genuinely surprised and shocked that you are reading a book.
Philis: Stop interrupting me! As I was saying Lady Chatterley’s Lover was supposed to be about sexy times, but it hasn’t gotten to that bit yet. She and Mellor’s haven’t maked sexy and it goes on for ages. I got the chickens but it maded me hungry and I figured I must be angry because I am hungry because I am fat because fat people eat when they are angry or sad, mostly sad.
Ashleigh: You know Philis maybe you should stop eating your feelings. Anyways if you had finished reading the bit about the chickens you would have got to the sex scene. Oh yeah and there was sexy times with Michaelis that Irish playwright.
Philis: That doesn’t count because he can’t get it up. Like King Gorilla Man Boobs friend Captain Crazy Balding Monkey Man. Anyways if that counted as sexy times it would be Lady Chatterley’s Lovers…
Ashleigh: (Sighs) I see your point.
Philis: Shut up. You see nothing
Ashleigh: I read the book.
Philis: Nothing!
Ashleigh: OK I will clarify that again. I read the whole book. Not half way through to the part about the chickens.
Philis: Sooooooo what you think I can’t read a whole book! I can express my opinions about a book just because I am fat. I don’t just watch TV because I am fat. You think I can’t read because I am fat.
Ashleigh: I never said that!
Philis: Yes you indiscriminately did!
Ashleigh: No I didn’t fat ass!
Philis: Oh look it’s the chemist you are secretly in love with!
Ashleigh: (Runs to lounge window) WHERE!
Philis: (Throws book at Ashleigh)
SMACK!
Ashleigh: Owe that hurt you cow! What was that for?
Philis: That’s how much the book made my hurt! I was expressing a point.
Ashleigh: Some expression! Then why did you bother to read it then.
Philis: I thought it was about sex. And seeing as I can’t have sex I want to read about it.
Ashleigh: It is about sex. It takes a while for the good parts to come.
Philis: Ewwwww Ashleigh don’t make disgusting puns.
Ashleigh: I wasn’t….
Philis: Hmmmph!!! (Folds arms) I am going to read a different book Orlando. It’s about sex.
Ashleigh: A change in biological sex. Not actual sex.
Philis: Sooooo I find miraculous changes in biology to be interesting.
Ashleigh: Yeah well miraculous changes in biology determined you to be an idiot. If you don’t like D.H. Lawrence, you won’t like Virginia Woolf either.
Philis: Why not?
Ashleigh: Well for starters Orlando was written for her close friend Vita Sackville-West who was her lover. She was a saphist
Philis: A sapphire! Ashleigh, don’t be ridiculous!
Ashleigh: No you twat. She was that way! They were close friends, lovers.
Philis: What! I’m not that way!
Ashleigh: I know, I know, but if Nigel knew you were reading this particular book he’d say you were. He would use it as proof to say you are that way! You don’t want another editorial by him!
Philis: Noooooo I guess not!
Ashleigh: If you want to read about sex, try erotica. I am assuming was your intentions in the first place. Anais Nin. Just be warned that it’s a bit out there!
A short while later.
Philis: Ashleigh, Ashleigh! I just read The Delta of Venus by Anais Nin! It was the most digustingess book ever.
Ashleigh: I tried to warn you.
Philis: Shut up no you didn’t.

It seems like a couple of weeks ago that I arrived here in Australia. I doesn’t feel like two and a half years at all. I don’t think it has sunk in yet. Even when I hugged my friends goodbye. I feel like I will still be in Rockhampton waiting till they come in the summer.

It seems like yesterday when I got a going away card from my mom wishing me luck in “Aussie Land!” I kept it with me the whole time. I used to look at it when I was homesick sometimes or when I was feeling down for encouragement and inspiration. My mom always knows what to say to make me feel better, whether she realises it or not. All I know is I made her really proud, she emphasises that a lot with a lot of her cards and messages. Sue-Woman seemed a bit critical about her pride in me a bit, I felt like she accused her of living through me vicariously or that I was some sort of victory that my mom could claim because she is a single mom. I used to think that too, but now I realise that my mom has every right to feel the way she does whatever the reason. If it wasn’t for her encouragement and support I wouldn’t be here. Not to mention she gave birth to me.

I’ve done a lot of new and different things. Too many to list or to remember all at once. I’d have to do a whole entry in retrospective and that would take ages.

For starters the most recent would be eating kangaroo. I still remember my Canadian friend Becky’s shock when I told her that Aussies eat kangaroos. She was genuinely upset, but then I reminded her that Canadians eat deer, moose, caribou, etc.

I will have lots of stories to tell.

Like on of my favourite memories of when I went to Great Keppel Island with Amy. She and I were swimming in the ocean and then all of a sudden we saw our Indian friend Raj out on the beach. He looked as if he were naked. Amy and I began to freak out and plan our escape which appeared to be futile anyways because he was getting closer and closer. Luckily moments later it was discovered he was wearing flesh toned underwear. I still remember Amy’s exact words on Raj’s apparent nakedness. “The only man I want to see naked is my future husband!” I think I had the exact same sentiments. The rest of the day turned out to be awesome fun. In which I went camera happy, got sunburnt badly, (Amy apparently still feels bad about that one) and developed lasting memories and friendship.

I guess some highlights were Multimedia Guy, mainly the mythological status of him, writing Song of the Superheroes, New Years 2007, Jo’s random dinner parties, and my all time favourite memory Sydney with Chris and Amy.

Anyways I was in the do not approach mood earlier. (Actually still kind of am.) It seems like when I am in this frame of mind everyone approaches or talks to me God damn it. Then every little question or thing they say makes me even more mad. I tell them I am not in a good mood or frame of mind to communicate, but they just don’t get it. Some people are just thick as bricks or maybe I am just a bitch. I am bettering on the later.

Peach out! I meant to write peace out. But I think peach out should be my signoff on entries from not on followed by…the usual P.S. something, something, something....

P.S. I am stressed to the max and excited to go home.

A creature of habit.

Long time no write…So I guess this entry will be about something I have randomly thought about.

So I am in a whinging ranting type mood again all because a flatmate unknowingly interrupted my balance. You see I am a creature of habit, very particular and once something I do has been upset or displaced I get agitated. I don’t know if anyone has noticed this but I like things done a certain way and things in a certain place and I have a certain routine. It’s as if one of these things is changed without my consent I am really upset and agitated, scary agitated and causes a lot of anxiety. I like having my things in a certain place and not moved and I hate sharing. I have no idea why. Maybe I am OCD or something.

Usually the anxiety is caused by something bigger, but little things trigger it that are completely unrelated. For starters I am sick of my new flatmate calling me Mel. My name isn’t Mel I wish people would realise this. It’s Melissa. M-E-L-I-S-S-A. I can’t stand little noise when people eat or the sound of the keyboard. I also have a particular obsession with objects. I like them because I can control them probably and because I think I am a bit selfish.

I like my stuff in a certain way and it really annoys me when Justine or past flatmates stacks the bowls wrongly (although it’s not technically wrong). By wrongly I mean mixing the bowls by size and type. Like stacking the plastic bowls in between the ceramic bowls or putting the plastic ones underneath the ceramic bowls. This sounds really weird but I like the ceramic bowls to be on the bottom, then the plastic bowls, then the bowls in the next smallest size and so on. I am seriously afraid if it isn’t in this particular order that A. it looks tacky and B. it will fall over and smack someone or myself in the entire head seeing as for some reason they are n the highest shelf, but I don’t want them on any other self because they have always been on that shelf. Death by kitchenware doesn’t appeal to me. This stacking applies to plates as well. Glasses are never stacked. I NEVER stack glasses.

Then in my cupboard shelf I like it organised too. First with cereal, then pasta, then long life milk, the sauces, etc. I used to alphabetise my CD’s. Now that I think about it I have impulse to go and do this. The files on my computer are meticulously organised by file and type. I organise my books by size from largest to smallest. I organise my DVD’s by genre and if it is a TV series by volume, so you wouldn’t find season four by season two of Futurama.

I am also non confrontational. I always tell a third party about my annoyances rather than tell the actual annoyance. I think I am afraid they will lash out at me or something. Another thing I noticed is I am constantly worrying to the point that it annoys people, to which I am worried that I have annoyed them, constantly looking for self reassurance from others, asking others the same question I already know the answer too as some sort or confirmation of some sort and worrying about failing assignments and tasks that I know I shouldn’t be.

P.S. If any of this doesn’t sound completely obsessive I don’t know what is. This is all slightly embarrassing to share too.

Ripple Effects

I am done uni in an entire week. AN ENTIRE WEEK! I am one step closer to finishing my degree or should I say one assignment closer. If only I could get past this writers block, this mental anguish. I am seriously procrastinating to the max this year. So much in fact how about pretty much writing an oral presentation on the day it is due! Luckily I got through OK….I surprisingly got a HD!

So here is another addition to my scramblings of things I have written meant for my blog, but have probably lost its timeliness, a very importanty thing in the world of journalism. Anyways, back to the oral presentation…I wrote it on the most seriously awesome book I have ever read, If on a Winter’s Night a Traveller. So I was comfortable with it and I knew how to answer it.
However, I am petrified of public speaking, I couldn’t speak, I kept fumbling the words while reading it and felt like I was having some sort of out of body experience. I am not afraid of the people in my class as such, but more afraid of what they think of interpretations, that they’d think it was a bunch of bullshit or completely wrong, luckily in my class The Modern Novel there is no right or wrong answer it is interpretation, well to an extent. However, I digress I am rambling on and forgetting why I am really writing about all this.

I finally figured out that I do want to be in the journalism field, not a journalist as such, but a columnist that writes about the oddity stories or someone who writes book and/or movie reviews and of course a novelist. I definitely do not want to be in the broadcasting field because it is kind of like the oral presentation, but times then ten people in the class by a million. They call it mass communication for a reason. I guess I don’t see these people watching me on the television, but I know they are there. If that makes any logical sense.

It came to me at the end of this while discussing it with the lecturer. He mentioned that if I was going to be a teacher, (most students in the class are studying to be one) that I should be using audio visual aids and be comfortable with public speaking. So I told him I wanted to be a writer and the other stuff just came out. I suddenly felt like I had an epiphany and I wanted to tell everyone my idea, specifically my mom and grandma.

This must telling of my sudden realisation of dreams led to starting to like Grandma Sue-Woman after a really good chat. I liked her the same way I did when I was little. I suddenly was able to be honest with her in a non-angering way. I kind of realised I still would not be in Australia if it wasn’t for her or my grandfather. She is controlling, (and she does own me to an extent), but I don’t think she is aware of it, it has become so internalised and natural to her that she just does it and I don’t think she does if completely for the sake of being controlling, she does it because she wants what is best for the people she loves and cares about. So maybe she should be Sue-Lady? She also has a way with words, she is very diplomatic I am never really sure she is agreeing with me or deceiving me into thinking that she is and I am really agreeing with her. I am not sure how to explain. Anyways, I really envy her talent.

The Mrs. Lachlan’s Mum in Superheroes, not the Chris’s Mrs. Lachlan’s Mum (They are very similar, but have different interpretations to an extent) may be based on her just a tiny bit. I see a bit of my grandma in her. Sue-Woman is very cultured and into the whole being a good female kind of person. This is going to sound even weirder but I see a bit of Grandma Jim-Lady in Fergus. I won’t go into this one. It’s like all the characters I created they are either many facets of myself or different pieces of people I know.

I can’t wait for uni to finish so I can start the sequels to Song of the Superheroes. The one I started No Dogs Allowed To Drink Fizzy Lemonade (I combined the titles :P Read previous entries if you have no idea what I am talking about) is more about Mrs. Lachlan’s Mum ironically and so is the sequel The Bamboozle Blues are for Convenience Sake. Oh and I am really excited Wild Will my cult character has more of a role in both and I think I am bringing the whole problem solving thing in, but it’s NOT the same as the A.E.S.M stories or at least I hope it doesn’t end up that way because I remember Chris saying I probably shouldn’t be bringing that element in the Song of the Superheroes because it would turn into a Wild Will story and Sarah Evans may be forgotten. Anyways, I can manage the mental strength I will begin as soon as I hand in the last dastardly assignment on Friday night! Heck Yes!!! I have five left…. So I guess you can imagine by reading this blog I am procrastinating once more, but not to stress I know it will get done. It always does, despite the late nights listening to the child next door scream and the annoyance of people making the click clack noise on the keyboards on the computers at the uni library.

So I guess the point of this is to say that for every instance there is a ripple effect. A scary oral presentation leads to an epiphany, which leads to me feeling good about myself, which then leads to me talking to Grandma Sue-Woman and understanding her a bit better and then finally this blog entry. Perhaps I think about things too much.

P.S. I am done uni on Friday!!!

Procrastination causes randomness!!!

1. Justin
2. Joan
3. Louie
4. Shane
5. Kayla
6. Corrin
7. Lyndin (I think that’s his name)
8. Kristine
9. Kumar
10. Daryn
11. Mohammad
12. Taryn
13. Maria
14. Christie
15. Dave
16. Jenifer
17. Elise
18. Sam

I’ve had 18 different flatmates.>

And now

19. Justine

5 out of 18 were bad apples – 28%
3 out of 18 did a lot of ummmm…screwing – 17%
2 out of 18 were anti social – 11%
3 out of 18 I got along with but never really got to know properly – 17%
5 out of 18 were awesome – 28%

As you can see I’ve thought a lot about flatmates and some random made up words, which I think are too weird to post, but were merely part of an idea for another story.

I’ve become a dastardly procrastinator. For starters I just finished an assignment that was due on Friday. I didn’t begin it till Friday night. Luckily the lecturer said we could submit the assignment over the weekend, as he wasn’t checking until Monday afternoon. Phew!!! However, I digress I ended up finding the assignment rather interesting and easy. I could have done it way sooner and got it out of the way, why did I choose to procrastinate? Oh the shame! This blog entry aids in further procrastination. Rather than go into details about

Let me tell you a story.

Me: (Quietly discussing something related to my superheroes characters about another sequel yes another I may or may on elaborate on it as of yet).
Justine: Are you OK Mel?
Me: (Cringes as improper use of name) Yes
Justine: Who are you talking too?
Me: Myself….
Awkwardy silence
Me: I day dream about my stories and I tend to get carried away sometimes.

I wonder if maybe my imagination about stories has run off with me, to the point that I rather sit and muse about them continuously. I’ve done it since I was seven. I tend to day dream a lot when I am stressed or upset about something, when I want to escape. It’s also evidently these times when I come up with my best ideas. When I day dream I get really into it to the point that I take on a role of one of the characters or various characters and begin talking to them like they are really there, yet I know they aren’t. I recognise that I am in this imaginary realm, but the longer I get into it the longer I can sense the line between imaginary and the real kind of blurring. Sometimes I pace the floor in my room or I do something that I can do with out properly thinking. My imaginations tend to take on top priority. I am worried sometimes that I am losing touch with reality. I’ve never mentioned this to anyone before. I am plain old addicted to this form of escapism. I feel better, I feel safer and somewhat productive because I am coming up with ideas for my stories.

It makes me wonder if when I reply that I am talking to myself am I merely talking to myself or many versions of me or am I talking to imaginary beings that I have brought into imaginary existence. Let’s face it I am embarrassed that I was caught in the act. Normally I make sure I am on my own, but sometimes I do participate in it when I am around people. According to my Mom I get a really blank stare that looks like I am very deep in thought. My cousin onetime told me my mouth moves sometimes, but I think she was more annoyed by it than freaked out by it. So if any of you have seen me do any of those things I am probably imagineering something.

P.S. Is there something wrong with me?

Flatmate troubles!

Whenever I am stressed the strangest things get to me. Like people typing on a computer next to me. The little light sounds of click clack just irritates me some. It just the way a particular person is typing. I lose all ability to concentrate. I want to take a pen and stab myself with it so the irritation will seise. I want to pull out my hair and stream just to rid myself of the bizarre irritation. It’s happening again, two girls sit beside me and talk quietly in the low whispery voice. There is just something about that low whispery voice that irritates the hell out of me. These kinds of things get to me when I am stressed and I think I have a good reasons to base all of it on. Hence I should warn you this entry may be a bit long.

Assignments: again with the “owe my entire brain!” Literary theory, novels, I’ll be glad to go back to a period of non-reading.

Homesickness: Enough said!

Flatmates: This requires a bit more explanation.

It all started with a coffee tableon Friday last week and an ended with the disappearance of a kettle cord this previous Thursday, but the explorations and discovery began with the removal of the house sayings on Saturday.

Goodbye house sayings/signs. They were nothing more than a passive aggressive attempt to pay both flatmates out and make it look I was having a go at myself too for good measure. That was more like the no offence clause. You know when your about to insult someone you say “no offence” as a scapegoat so you can get out of trouble. The all intelligent flatmate and the nice underestimated flatmate took no notice of this. Except for the socks, that was an obvious go. The many references to socks worked Sam-Lady (She wasn’t MEAN enough to have the “Woman” on the end of her name) no longer left her socks and clothing lying around. However, she was forced out by meanness by the all intelligent I am so up myself I think I am better than everyone else in the entire world because it revolves around me flatmate a.k.a Elise-Woman (She no longer deserves to be called Elise-Lady). So I decided the sock signs no longer had a purpose.

Then there was the signs referencing Big-W, cheese, K-Mart, being a house ninja. They were jabs too or more like reminders of a certain flatmates one-liners and pay outs towards me. I was throwing them back in her face, but she in her all intelligence never once figured it out. I was trying to show how insensitive she was, how mildly uncaring she is, (well she is a sociopath!). So I decide these signs no longer served their purpose either. I also realised I shouldn’t pay myself out for others benefit.

Poor Sam had to move, I can’t help thinking I had a part to play in this as well. I didn’t want the previously aforementioned sociopathic flatmate Elise to hate me, so I bid into her sphere of influence. I hid Sam’s towel. I put up passive aggressive signs. I dobbed her in with management because of her smelly room and had no intention of telling her about the impending room inspection. I talked badly behind her back because I liked the sense of power I felt in doing so. She was alienated and didn’t feel like she even lived her. How could I be so horrible? This was to someone who wanted to be my friend. I can now honestly say I never hated her.

For some reason I just don’t like not being liked. I am sick of letting myself be swayed and sucked in by these types of people, such as Elise. Why do I allow myself to be manipulated by them? I came in contact with someone similar before I left Australia and now ironically I have before I leave. Even more strange is the fact I lived with both of them. One convinced me I had mental issues and the other convinced me to act on my dark side. I quit my job at Pixi Foto because of acting on the dark side. I dumped someone that I knew liked me for me because I was influenced to act on my shallow side. I even have one of those types of people now that has followed me everywhere my entire life, who I know I will never be free of.

I guess I should now mention that I was caught in the middle of a flatmate war. I was neutral, Switzerland you could say. I played on both sides of the argument. I agreed with what both were upset about. For starters, I agreed with Elise that housework should be done by all equally. Washing up and cleaning up your rubbish is common sense. The bare minimum would have been suffice for me. Although I am sure it would be for Elise. Secondly, I agreed with Sam. No one has the right to make you feel like you are not welcome in your own home or judge you because you don’t go to uni and get HD’s in every subject. I also under I understand being tired when working 12 hours a day. I also agree that if Elise had a problem with Sam she SHOULD have told her so instead of leaving nasty notes on her door.

It was after this I suddenly realised Elise isn’t a very nice person. Come to think of it she leaves her shit around too! The lounge room table has a pile of magazines, her painting stuff is everywhere and she leaves her stupid pictures, maybe to remind everyone how more artistically talented and intelligent she is or something.

I managed to make her hate. Because I see both sides I ended up making things worse. Or as she so eloquently put it “Those who play for both sides of the fence end up impaling themselves. Well done!” She said it with such venom. I could feel my heart sinking to my stomach. And why did she say this too me? She overheard me warning Sam to collect her stuff because Elise wanted to make timber out of her ugly coffee table. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to repeat this to Sam as it may have been confidential, but I wouldn’t put it past Elise do something like that. Come to think of it I said that with in ear shot too, perhaps that was the problem. She stopped talking too me, but I am glad because I no longer can be controlled by her sphere of influence as I am not allowed back in it.

Because of it a new war has broke out between Elise and I. This time there is no Switzerland. The flat has descended into disruptive silence, an oxymoronic conundrum. I say disruptive because it was uncomfortable and angry silence and silence because well it was silent. The only safe haven was my room and it felt like that was were I belonged, while Elise figured she could own the entire flat.

By Tuesday, I had a vendetta. The three days of silence had eroded my common sense. It had driven me insane. I wanted Elise to feel like Sam did, like I was at that very moment. I started to hate her I became obsessed with hating her. I wanted her out of my flat. This anger and hatred were eating at me alive. I realised it was poison and futile attempt as people like her never see it the other way. They are drowned by their arrogance. I just couldn’t let go.

Little did I realise it was merely just karma at work and I was learning how Sam felt. It’s not very nice, Latter apologised to her. She was acting like the flat was hers and I was getting sick of it. So on Wednesday began to act on my passive aggressive nature. I moved the TV remote to random places. It only happened twice that day, once in the draw where we keep the telephone books and the second time in the kitchen drawer. It was an attempt to tell her. I am here too and it’s also my flat. You don’t own the entire television set! I was hoping that perhaps maybe she’d say, “Melissa where is the remote?” or “why did you hide the remote?” But no she found it and the silence continued. I was merely trying to open the lines of communication, but it was a failed miserable attempt. In retrospect I should have talked to her. And said she was being childish, etc.

That evening in my insomnia I realised I should let it go. However I had hid the remote a second time before bed and I figured I’d put it back where it belongs in the morning. However, I should unhide it at that moment because Elise decided to hide the kettle cord the next morning. I should have seen it coming. It’s quite brilliant actually. I was amused by it for some reason. I use the kettle more so than the television. I have a bit of a tea obsession recently. Oh wow she cared to notice. However, I only hid the remote around the house, she hid it in her entire room because she knew I couldn’t get it back. She was one up on my on this little battle.

Then I decided that perhaps I should stop and look at my own childish behaviour. I went to the managers and admitted to hiding the remote saying I was trying to get her attention as she was ignoring me. I surprising didn’t get in trouble although I felt that I should have. Elise on the other hand got a notice of remedy breach, a warning for her bad behaviour, which I so eloquently put on her door. I had the upper hand this time, but I didn’t feel any better for it. She wasn’t evicted, but close too it. She in return left a note on my door that accusing me of not telling the whole truth. I replied with another note that said I did tell the truth about the remote, I realised I was being childish and there is a difference between the two implements involved. She ripped it up and stuck it back to her door. It would have been so much more effective if she stuck it too mine, but who cares.

So as you can see if I wanted to repair the damage, it’s too late now. That is why it ends with the kettle. Why would I want to be friends with someone who brags about picking up random men, actually brings them home, makes me feel bad for being a virgin, who is mean for no reason, but to be mean and has a prejudice towards people who are not at her level of intelligence. I’ve lost respect for so I couldn’t care less if she hates me. Then again it saddens me a bit because we did have some good times together. Perhaps that was the impalement she was telling me about? Anyways what I am getting at is, I am Libran and weigh both sides out, hence the scales, I finally saw Sam as the one with more merit and I sided with her. THE END! I am finished my amazingly long rant. However getting this out has made feel better…I seem to be having this cleansing type process lately, where I am just unloading all of my feelings out into the nothingness of the web. Now that this is out in the open I can no longer dwell. My 5 days of dwelling, which should have been 30 is now entirely over.

P.S. I obess too much.

Owe my entire beautiful brain!

I’ve been dabbling random thoughts in my journal lately in attempts to possibly construct a useful entry, but it’s a garbled mess of musings from the past two weeks that make no sense to me, but perhaps it will to you.

I highly suspect someone invisible uttered an unspeakable F name of a certain headache causing variety, because I am not acting like a chicken, laughing uncontrollably, jumping up and down because of a board game, (although I am suddenly really wanting to play Monopoly purely for procrastination type purposes) and unfortunately not taking a nice long nap. Did I mention I want to take a really nice long nap? Perhaps it will cure my headacheyness, which of course is another made up word. Come to think of it is probably this insane amount of literary theory by crazy French men, which is really interesting, but headache causing, stupid assignments, then there is the eye strain from the catastrophic amount of novel reading, financial stress because work is being a poo head and only giving me six hours a week, my humongous gianormous accumulating debt, then other types of stress, think flatmate type wars and the story idea outbreak going through my head at the most inconvenient moment.

So to quote the lovably vain Officer Octogenarian, the character not the person, “Owe my entire beautiful brain!”

Yes there has been story idea outbreak in my entire mind, stupid characters are really insistent about the sequel to Song of the Superheroes for some reason. I’ve decided Sarah Evans is coming back, apparently she doesn’t feel like she has fulfilled her mission against the corporate owning media or more likely the misogynistic Nigel. I’ve just lost the will to write lately. I want to get these ideas onto a computer screen and/or paper, but I think I have become to stressed or depressed to do so. It hurts me to neglect my writing.

I suddenly feel like I am whinging. I keep thinking sometimes that I hate my life and I have wasted a good part of my adult life doing everything in strange mix matched make no sense kind of way. I don’t really think my life has ever made sense to me. Then again I shouldn’t because I’ve accomplished some major goals of mine for starters come to Australia and to go to university. I’ve done two things my family hasn’t. I should be immensely proud, but all I feel is regret for some strange reason. I just feel like my priorities have become all backwards. For starters I continued to go to school after high school had finished, went to a foreign country to study, suddenly rebelled like I secretly wanted too and by that I mean question religion and partying. Now I want to go home just have a random job and work towards my drivers’ license so that I can get a good paying job in journalism so I can work towards being an author.

I can’t help thinking it should have been the later, followed by school, some sort of rebellion I didn’t come into partying till I was in my twenties most of my friends rebelled once they hit 17-19, then college and university in my home country in something I decided. I was kind of prodded into journalism because everyone reckoned I was a good writer. I wanted to be an astronomer, still do sometimes, but now I am in so much debt, that will be likely to not happen. Then I should have come to Australia as a tourist, not a student before and/or after getting a good paying job, but no it’s all jumbled around. It feels random and sporadic, I feel like chaos. May I remind you this entry is not about sympathy, just random garbled feelings I’ve been neglecting I need to get out of my head for some cathartic reason.

I have to constantly remind myself that everything happens for a reason, I wouldn’t have met my amazingly awesome beautiful friends here, written a novel or rebelled. It will be interesting to see how much I have changed once I go home. I shouldn’t regret my decisions, but I still do.

I am going home, but despite the minute amount of mixed emotions still left I am at peace with it and actually quite excited about it. I suddenly realise my fantastically intelligent attempt to stay here, if it didn’t put me in further debt helped me become ready for going home perhaps? To face my issues that I now admit perhaps came to Australia to get away from. Maybe I should go home to figure out how all this chaotic order of events happened and perhaps settle it before it becomes more so. Also my grandparents are getting older, I can’t help feeling they are not going to be around for much longer and I don’t want to be overseas when they are pushing up the daisies. Then there is the friends I’ve forgotten back home, I feel like I’ve neglected them. Mind you going home has nothing to do with guilt.

And the big thing I want to do is find my father. I feel like some will never know what it is like to have a big question such as this constantly hanging around you. The longer I put it off the more it eats at me. I have also just made the connection to why I am dreaming about being eaten by aliens. For starters I have felt alienated by people most of my life and well questions such as who is my father combined with this is slowly metaphorically eating me alive. It’s not a nice feeling.

Does anyone feel the way I do?