The world of many hats

Have you ever noticed how people wear different hats? This is over course metaphorically and when I refer to hats I am thinking in terms of attitudes, actions and personality.

For instance, a co-worker who is cashier supervisor is this elegant, gentle, sweet and kind person, someone you’d like to talk too, but once she is at work again she is a cashier Nazi of all bossiness on a friggen power trip, like she is trying to prove how awesome she is. Lets face she is mean! She can’t even ask you to do something in a nice way. Sadly most of my fellow cashiers only seem to see this particular hat she wears. I am not sure if she is aware of this or perhaps she feels she has to act like this to prove herself. When she is like this I can’t stand her, but then I remind myself of the really nice person I chat with on my breaks sometimes. She even cheered me up once when I had a bad day. :) It’s like she is the same person, but there are two separate sides, two different hats she wears. It’s weird because she is still the same person and I like her, she is still herself.

Then there is my friend from church, who also happens to be a pastor. You would never know he is a pastor, much less a Christian unless he told you or unless you already knew he was. The thing is he is so genuine at church and on the outside it is hard not to like him. On one end he is this charismatic, people person who is brilliant with words (I really envy his talent) and shares his beliefs openly if you ask him, but he wouldn’t try to push it on you. Oddly this is one both sides of him. The change in the hats he wears isn’t as noticeable as some people. Sometimes he comes across as arrogant, but if you get to know him its merely confidence. He kind of just glides between hats gracefully the line is blurred yet you know he is wearing a different face when he is not doing church things. Perhaps the hats are blended together because he is so genuine. In fact he is so charming that he leaves people in awe of him. Men want to be his best buddy in the entire world and woman are totally enamoured to the point they want to marry him and have his future babies. He is blessed as he claims to be “really, really good looking,” as well as beautiful on the inside. I’ve heard women after he has left the building, as if he owns it I might add express how they want to do naughty things with him. This really kind of annoys me because he is more than just a good looking guy, an object of sexual desire, its as if his looks are another hat he wears whether he wants to or not. Although, I am pretty sure he does like wearing it. :P It just leaves me wondering if people who are more aesthetically pleasing to the eye have troubles finding someone who looks past the beauty and sees the inner beauty.

I am sure I wear many different hats too, but I am unsure of what they all are and when I am wearing them. I know I am mostly likely to change hats when I am around my mom, around my friends or at work. I think it’s because people change them without noticing. It’s just a part of them. Some are forced because you want Then same goes with my friends I see no wardrobe changes, perhaps I am so used to them I too do not notice. However my brother he wears no hats he is who he is all the time. He’d be the one person to eat hats rather then wear one, as are many of my other friends, both special needs and everyday people. I appreciate them because there are no surprises with them.

P.S. The search for my birth father begins…

Ignorant People!!!

I had a really good day today. Firstly, I thought I worked an eight hour shift today, but then I realised once I double checked the schedule that I was four hours early. But it turned out because I hung out with my little brother instead. It was fun. Tony gave me this big hug when he saw me. It was like time stopped and all this joy came rushing along. This feeling is the best in the entire world. I had the best day because of it.

I am continually surprised by how people treat the disabled and special needs community. It irritates me to know end. I was trying to take my brother to the washroom today and a little old lady also on the way to the washroom saw that I had my brother with me. Stopped right in front of the door and refused to let us in. She just pointed at the sign that says ladies. She gave me a worried expression, “the oh boys aren’t allowed in the women’s washroom.” Yes because I could just as easily take him into the men’s? I think was pretty damn rude! When my brother has to go he has to go. I said “get over it he’s special needs. We need to get in now or he is going to pee all over the floor.” I shoved past her. AND then the stupid cow went and hid in the stall until we were finished because it was soooo embarrassing having a male in the washroom. Anyways I digress this incident really pissed me off. I detest ignorant people with the passion of a 1000 fiery suns. Grrrr…..I’m sick of there stares and there judgements.

Then a couple days before that Tony and I were at the Salvation Army dolly/ toy rescuing and I guess he made a mess as he tends to empty all the toy bins and sit in the middle of the floor and play with them. Mom and I (mostly me) then cleans up afterwards and the staff doesn’t really have a problem with it. However bitchy customers who aren’t intelligent enough to ask why or even perhaps maybe walk around him instead of nearly stepping on my brother while giving him contemptuous dirty looks seem too. So I asked one such customer what her problem was as he is special needs and if you said excuse me he is polite enough to move aside for you. She returned the judgemental look of all evilness to me. To which I shouted to my mom across the store. I wonder what peoples problems are? Needless to say I got even more mean looks. Who cares? I am tired of taking a passive viewing of ignorance towards my brother, the most genuine human being around. Anyone being indecent to my brother will have a red glowing mean scarlety big sister after them.

Oh yes I might also add Tony, his friend Sherry who is a wheel chair I might add really appreciate being nearly ran over by bikes and/or skate boards. Not to mention nearly walked into because apparently special needs people are invisible or are supposed to blend in with everyone else. Yes and it also wonderful when people use the tables which are designated for special needs people! It’s not right when someone who comes for coffee at Timmy’s feels subconscious because the only space she can get is blocking the aisle a bit. I constantly reminded her that they can walk around her. It was no big deal, but apparently it was.

Then of course on the opposite end, there are others who are the opposite who appreciate people no matter what. One of my friends is totally cool with Tony. He even put up with his bubble kisses, despite the big glob of spit on him. Even let him steal his coffee. Then there is the odd random person says hello and treats my brother like everyone should be treated. Not to mention the nice cashiers at Tim Horton who will give my brother a Tim Bit for 2 cents, just because. These people give me hope that there are still good people out there.

I like to hang around special needs people more than able bodied people sometimes because they are real. They don’t have this façade going on. They are who they are. I am sick of society and there constant ideal of normality, a normality that is entirely subjective.

I think I am done with my rant now.

P.S. I’ve rescued at least 20 plus dolls now, no thanks to Tony. :P

Packing on Canada Day!

Happy Canada Day!

July 1st has always been kind of a special day for me. I moved out on my own for the first time. I was 19 and now 5 years later it feels like I am back to square one. Will I ever achieve independence again? How can I maintain my independence when I live at home with my mother, whom I think depends on me for a lot? I miss doing my own thing. My centre of my universe has been off centre for awhile now that I seem to be the centre of other peoples instead.

Anyways…

You think I would be doing something patriotic today, but alas I am packing and visiting with the dogs. I am glad to be moving but I could do with out the packing, cleaning and organising. I still have a long way to go and my entire room is a mess. It looked like a tornado has ripped through it and stripped any individuality it once had and spit up a bunch of displaced objects, boxes and garbage.

I keep finding stuff and thinking why on earth do I have this? Why did I keep this then I think about it and still keep it! Something of the things I find have sentimentality attached to it, like the things from Australia. But really all I care about is my books, DVD’s my journals, my photos, my camera my craft stuff, maybe my collectables and the dolls. (I’ll explain those later.) But for some reason I have toys, heaps of toys that I collected before Australia and some after. So I am attempting to find out which ones are special to me and which ones can be given away to Salvation Army, my brother or my friend Erica. Then I have random junk, and for some reason every single assignment since high school till university! I can’t decide if I need them or not. I might just have to let go of some of the sentimentality and do a massive give away. I seriously save everything I can get my hands on that I think will be useful for later or I just like for some random reason. It’s kind of scary.

I have recently taken my collecting obsession all the way back to a time when I was a child. I time when I made stories with 11 inch plastic actors. I’ve recently begun searching second hand stores which profit charities I might add for second hand Barbie dolls. A lot of the ones I have found feel abandoned, they are dirty and naked. Some have pen ink in their hair. These abandoned toys have all these stories behind them, who owned them, what games were they played in. They were loved once, but obviously not enough to get forgotten about and placed in a big giant bin at the Salvation Army or squirreled away in a corner of a dirty self at the Hospital Auxiliary. This all started I might add when my brother insisted I have girl toys.

I am on the opposite end of rejection. When I was 11 I started giving my dolls away thinking that I was too old for them. I had lost interest in them. I abandoned them. Luckily someone else took them in and began new stories and new relationships.

P.S. Mom said it was Sydney and Weiser Day!

You know you're a writer if...

These are just some things I have been thinking about…

You know you’re a writer if…

You use many notebooks, many well used, well loved and nearly falling apart, yet holding the very thoughts and essence, a catalogue of you since the beginning of writing journey.

You care a small notebook around with you just in case.

You have a whole arsenal of pens with you at all times, because you never know.

Pens and paper have special intangible qualities to you. I can still remember the feeling and the pen I used to write Song of the Superheroes.

The letters on the computer keyboard are wearing off.

You think of your characters as real people sometimes.

You know your characters better than some of your friends

When you’re walking down the street and a scene from the story your working pops in your head and you get so caught up in it, you’re talking to yourself whilst out in public and people think you’re entirely weird.

Real people and places always inspire you. Everything would make a good story!!!

You imagine as opposed to daydreaming.

Daydreams usually consist of characters and scenes from stories your working on.

When writing an e-mail to a friend it’s practically an essay and you have to edit it for grammar and mistakes.

Grammar and spelling errors irritate the hell out of you.

Words are you vice without them you’d be completely lost.

You can write in complete silence or in utter chaos if the time calls for it.

Anywhere with a place to sit and good lighting is a good place to write. In fact you can write anywhere, bus stops, staff rooms, restaurants, etc.

When you stay up until 3 or 4 in the morning and suddenly realise you have to be up in three hours, but couldn’t care less because you’re on a roll with your current writing endeavour.

You see dreams as inspiration for story ideas

You sometimes dream about the story the working on, sometimes improving your story. :P

You’re constantly brainstorming ideas for your story.

When your head is full of thoughts and the only way to comprehend and process it all is to write out what is frustrating you, making you happy, exciting you, etc.

You have tried more than one type of writing such as journalism, novels, screenwriting, poetry, journaling, etc.

And finally you know you’re a writer when you truly believe you are. :)

P.S….I having nothing to add.

The pieces of my heart

It’s a new week therefore a new start. :)

I am kind of relieved because I resolved the conflict from Wednesday between another associate and I who I will call Rosie for anonymity reasons. Turns out she, was just upset by the way I was discussing Pretty Blue Eyes, which I agree. She was more concerned about me being too open and that I should keep personal matters to myself and what happened between Pretty Blue Eyes and I should be kept between us. She also pointed out that my friend Carma Bubbly (because she is so cheery and happy) was very loud about my affections for Pretty Blue Eyes and proceeded to describe him, although rather accurate in a rather inappropriate way, one that I strangely got all annoyed with others for during a completely different incident. I digress I got caught up in the excitement of the moment, which is really easy when you like someone. I apologised to Rosie if I offended her and that I learnt my lesson. She was so nice about it in fact she is quite lovely, which really surprised me as I thought she entirely hated me. Considering I was stupid a couple of days after the incident and mentioned that she embarrassed me to another associate without checking to see if she was in the entire lounge. I didn’t say why I was embarrassed but I mentioned I learnt my lesson regarding the distribution of personal matters to others. I waved awkwardly once she was pointed it out and decided that it was kind of redundant to keep brewing over something that was obviously a misunderstanding therefore I was impressed to apologise to her. THE END!

Too think that in a month or so I’ll have been back in Canada for a whole year. It seems like yesterday that I was anticipating the move back, only a fraction of a second ago when as the plane was leaving Rockhampton taxing, ready to take off into the sky that I burst into tears. I remember the flight attendant asking me if I was OK. The truth is I left my heart sitting in the waiting room at the airport; I left it behind with my friends.

I used to think that I if I left most of my heart in another country, would I be able to give my whole heart to others? I mean I spread it around to Carol, Tony, my Mom (Even though Hev-Lady drives me mad) and my friends in Australia, where was the rest of my heart and is it meant for someone else special and more best friends too? So considering my experience from two-weeks ago and how I am making more friends here, I’ve come to the conclusion that perhaps I still have enough of my heart to give or perhaps it’s bigger than I thought it was. I feel that almost a year later I am finally finding my way again, adjusting to the new circumstances of my life. I feel like things are getting better despite the rough patches I have endured. I think it’s only made me stronger.

P.S. I have been writing more Fizzy Lemonade lately. :P

My unchosen playlist of songs in my entire head!

I always get songs in my head that seem to reflect how I am feeling at the time. I am suffering from many musical worms.

For starters when I finally realised I liked Pretty Blue Eyes, I was stuck with the song Why Do Birds Suddenly Appear? By the Carpenters. Urgh I kept wanting to sing it all the time. I just felt so joyous.

Now it’s a mixture of It Hurts to Be In Love by Gene Pitney, then occasionally Love by Nat King Cole on constant rewind in my head, word for word. Followed by, You Can’t Hurry Love by The Supremes. These songs just pop up out of nowhere! Rah! It’s like one song is reflecting my hurt one is reflecting how I feel still and one is advising me and giving me hope. I think about stuff to much.

And when I was anticipating Star Trek I kept hearing every version of the theme songs from four of the TV series, the original series, Next Generation, Deep Space Nine and Voyager.

Then sometimes randomly Teletubies! To the point that I sing it out loud, needless to say I got funny looks. Maybe it represents my childishness.

And of course the honourable mentions are

Threes Company theme song

M*A*S*H*

Dora the Explorer

Jingle Bells

Pretty much any oldie song randomly pops in too no thanks to satellite radio and my mom’s love of the old stuff.

Any Hannah Montana song, stupid singing pens near the tills. I want to take them off the shelves and throw them into the fiery pits of hell. I wish those stupid kids would leave them alone.

I could think of more too. Anyways I felt I should write a happier entry. :P

P.S. I forgot to return my first library book in on time. :P That is all. I just wanted to be random.

My fours star ranting an raving entry part 3

Hmmmmmmmmm what to write?

Well I have officially been a four star cashier at Wal-Mart since April. Wow what an accomplishment! Apparently this is no major feat as I should be getting writing awards and having a comfortable journalism job according to some people because I spent all this money and time and blabedy blah on it and therefore I should be. To that I say so what? I mean I am merely making a means to an end. THE END! I wish people would stop budding in to my life even if they mean well.

I’ve had a rough week.

Firstly I had my heart broken and I am infinitely confused about his rejection and the way he said. Is it an open door still or is it closed and he was trying to be nice as to not hurt my feelings. I had to face him the very next day and afterwards I burst into tears because it hurt me a lot. I guess I must of really liked him for that to happen. I keep pining for him. I wish it would entirely stop.

Secondly I came in to contact with my brothers grandparents. It was entirely awkward. It irritated me to no end who little they knew about their own grandson, they live 2 hours away, yet they only visit him at least once a year, twice if he is lucky. They talked to him like he was a little baby. Tony is entirely intelligent. ENTIRELY INTELLIGENT! So there! How would you feel if you were 17 having disabilities or not and your grandma kept saying “Go sit on Daddy’s knee,” etc.

Then I was entirely humiliated by a co-worker in front of my friends in the lunch room and she knows who the firstly is I just mentioned. Her words stung me like venomous daggers. It kind of involved Pretty Blue Eyes. Luckily most of the people were on my side and what she said was so not nice at all. Hmph. I believe in Karma enough said.

These last few entries have been rather ranting and raving in nature. It feels good to get it out though. It saves me from becoming a scarlety monster. I do think I am dealing with this rough patch better then the one a few months ago. Anyways, I promise I will write a real entry soon. :)

P.S. Rough times only make you stronger.

Oh yeah I believe I am 18/ 100 entries :P

Rainy Day Blues

I am so annoyed with myself for the last two days I have been pining. Pining for someone I cannot have or maybe have to be patient to see if his mind changes. I can’t figure out when he told me we had to be friends if he looked sad because he knew he was going to break my heart or because he liked me too and knew that it wasn’t the right time or place to begin a relationship. I can’t figure out when I was around him yesterday if I was just feeling a longing of my own or picking up on his as well and hoping he was also longing. Urgh! I wish I could stop thinking about Pretty Blue Eyes (that’s what I will call him from now on) Somebody come and smack me back to reality please! But please anything but the stop agonising over it, it will get better, you’ll still meet someone special, etc. Then I think I might want to punch you in the face!

If getting my heart broken wasn’t bad enough I am slowly watching my brother deteriorate into a deep and dark sadness that I cannot cure or aid him in getting out of. It’s like all the joy and his whole world he knew before was violently ripped from him. I want to throw him a rope and bring him from the dark hole he was managed to fall into. It breaks my heart even more to know that my little brother is in emotional turmoil and I cannot seem to help him one bit. I mean I can visit him, play with him, hug him, try to remind him mom and I love him and he is there because mom is too sick to care for him anymore. Therefore my heart is doubly broken and I too have lost all the joy I have felt the last couple of weeks. And ironically Tony also has pretty blue eyes.

Then today I brought up the issue of my absent father, the ultimate rejecter as far as I am concerned to Hev-Lady, she gave the usual “I don’t know what to say” response. Its so awkward talking to her about it. It’s like she cares but she doesn’t care at the same time. I’d like her to step into my shoes one day and see what its like for everyone to ask about your “parents” or when filling out student loan applications and under father having to cross the section out and put no applicable or seeing little girls holding their fathers hands whilst shopping around Wal-Mart. Fathers day is the worst day of the year for me. It’s the one day of the year that I am reminded that I am different that I never had a dad who cared about me, much less acknowledge my existence and at least come and look for me. And now it appears that I am triply heartbroken just from thinking about this. Anyways I plan to look for him, Hev-Lady can go fly a kite.

Life just doesn’t feel right at the moment. I hope I learn something from all this.

I’m just sad right now, don’t mind me. It’s one of my rainy days. Every song on the radio seems to reflect what I am feeling.

I am merely attempting to write more. Writing is one of the only things, besides my friends that have never let me down; unless I have writer’s block then I know I am depressed.

P.S. I am going to attempt my 100 entries anyway. So there!

Oh the perils of falling in love, again and again

It has been a long absence from the blogging as of late. I seem to be having more absences then I used too. I remember when I used to write every second day in my online weblog of all randomness. Spouting off of things that I think were rather Emo, obsessive, anxieties or frustrations that did NOT belong on a public space. (I’ve learnt my lesson on that one) Not to mention posting my stories for the entire world to see. (I guess this entry isn't much better.)

Why is love so irrational? I always seem to fall for the wrong guy. Thankfully this time around I was smart enough not to share my recent romantic infection on this blog. I read the old Officer Octogenarian (The person not the character), entries and I think how bizarre my behaviour was. I since scared him off due to my strangeness, think misdirected text messages, drunken text messages of undying liking, etc, etc. I never truly loved him or cared. You know why? Because I never took the risk and told him that I felt something for him, something I think now was more lust than love and really just liked feeling that way. Crushing on a guy is like an addiction really, you can’t eat, you can’t sleep, and you could just explode from happiness. If I really really liked him like I thought I did I would have found someway to tell him instead of pining for him? Or making up all these insane plans and constantly annoying people with my obsessions. I just liked liking Officer Old if that makes sense. The other factor of this is confidence. I don’t feel like I am good enough for the object of my desire so I chicken out. It feels safer to love from a far, rather than risk getting heartbroken, than to risk sharing who I really am.

The guy before Officer Old turned out to be the wrong guy for me anyways! So I am thankful it didn’t work. And I strongly suspect he had my friends reject me for him as they said they asked me about it. You know the whole “you’re a great girl but…” Blah! Once the irrationality of the love blinders became undone I saw him in a different light, more of an acquaintance than friend. Then something did happen and well he lead me on…THE END

The one before that, the Burger King crush I constantly wrote about in my old journal on Kiwibox. I think I was using the happiness feeling to help me get through the stressful time before going to Australia. Honestly the feeling of crushing on someone must be an addiction. I really wanted to tell him, but I mean I was leaving soon and well, whats done is done.

I’ve only ever told two guys that I like them that way. Ironically I wrote both of them letters, saying I liked them and both times I was told how brave I was from casual observers of my romantic endeavours and both times I was gently let down, but I still feel like I was shot down in flames. Both of whom didn’t say they didn’t like or dislike me, but said they had other commitments or maybe not ready for someone in their lives, which is understandable. They really want me as a friend. These two men I can say they were a bit more than crushes. I think I really truly and fully cared. I wanted to be around them and be close to them.

The first guy I ever truly liked was friends with for 3 years before I devolved the googly eyes for him. I still think of him fondly. Part of my heart still lingers in the “what if?” When I first experienced love sickness it was all new to me. I just wanted to be around him and spend time with him, share my interests. It felt like a waste once I felt the first sting of rejection. My heart broke I felt so low that I cried and the teachers in school couldn’t figure out what was wrong.

The other the most recent I inexplicable fell for within two weeks and fell for hard I did. I just love everything about him. I don’t dream about him, but I can’t stop thinking about him and I keep fantasising nuclear family type things. The kind of things were we settle down and have 2.5 kids and we like to be around each other and the first initial feelings of love develop into stronger mutual understanding and respect for one another, meanwhile living in a comfortable little house, with nice neighbours. It almost makes me sick thinking that I actually wanted that! I wanted him to be my first love! When I gave him the “like” letter I kept hoping that as I was walking away from the scene like the passive aggressive lover that I am he’d run behind me shouting my name and declare that he too has the same feelings, take me in his beautiful arms and kiss me! Urgh the embarrassment. Everyone told me I was doing the right thing, that if I liked him I should go for it. I should let him know sooner than later because it could be too late and I have nothing to lose for saying anything because I haven’t really had anything to begin with. How about my dignity? Thank you very much. I can’t even look him in his pretty blue eyes anymore without knowing that he knows my secret, that I knew I had to tell him but didn’t work out that way wanted too. If they hadn’t encouraged me to do it. I’d still be happily liking him very, very much so. They can take the whole take a leap of faith spiel and piss off. I am so angry with myself for feeling this way, when I was so sure I was doing the right thing! I feel so dumb now.

I also think that perhaps this was Karma as I broke another’s heart. He probably felt that “I like you for you. I want to experience the world with you and so on and so forth,” but I was too damned obsessed with Officer Old or perhaps too scared to understand there are guys out there that do like me for me think I am wonderful and amazing to the point that they buy me flowers and make a point to call me just because. I am just too stubborn to see it or believe it. I’d rather just stay closed off from love, I don’t want to share myself with anyone. I am content within myself that I don’t need someone to complete me, but I’d like to have someone try to share myself with so we can become one yet still remain complete in ourselves and not lose our identities. If that makes any sense? When I fall for someone I want to be with them forever or at least till where insanely old and sick of each other, but if one died, the other would die after from a broken heart. I feel so entirely idealistic.

I wish I could burry my feelings. I wish I had Data from Star Trek Next Generation’s ability to shut down my emotion chip when my emotions got the better of me. I can’t seem to develop a thick skin I wear my heart on my sleeve and get carried away in the moment in the feelings. If anyone has an idea of how to stop a crush before it gets out of hand please let me know because I am getting sick of the rejection and the aftermath of telling someone and feeling my heart being break inside of me. I am constantly reminded of the scene in the Simpsons where Bart has a crush on the babysitter and she declares her adoration for Jimbo and Bart suddenly imagines her ripping out his heart and throwing it in the trash, meanwhile saying “You won’t be needing this?” I feel like I crossed the line after announcing my affections. It is times like this where I feel so down that I really miss my friends in Australia, I really miss Carol, I miss being myself before I was enamoured by the drug called love. Is there any cure for this or will I have to experience the agony of rejection again?

P.S. My goal for 100 posts by 2010 is a sham. I’ll be lucky if I make 50!

Twilight series sucks!

It’s 12:30 a.m. and I suddenly realise (or maybe I am just reminding myself) that I really don’t like the Twilight series even though I was a douche and bought the whole set because I heard such rave reviews on how amazingly awesome it is. I decided to give it a read because I think vampires are cool or mysterious. I’ve not quite wrapped my head around the whole undead thing mind you.

Actually it was this is a conversation between me and another cashier I will name Wilma and another associate I’ll name Bill to protect there anonymity because I like them. J Bill is funny and Wilma has interesting opinions on stuff. Anyways it kind of pointed out the irony of reading something I don’t particularly enjoy.

Wilma: (sits down at table with me. Looks to big fat black book of all boringness sitting beside me.) You still reading the first Twilight book Melissa?
Me: No it’s the third one.
Wilma: Do you like it? I quite liked the series I really enjoyed it. (Note she says this every time.)
Me: Uhhhh it’s alright. I don’t really like it.
Bill: (Obviously eavesdropping) OK so your reading it and you don’t like. Hmmm that makes sense.
Me: I like it. I just don’t really like it that much. I’ve read way better.
Bill: Yet you’re still reading it…
Wilma: I quite liked it. I really enjoyed the series….

Yeah well this conversation isn’t really funny…but it was funny earlier when Bill discussed his hatred for stupid people. :P I just can’t remember what he said…

Note this blog entry may see scatterbrained and garbled because it is almost 1 am and Ummmm….yeah!

However, I will note that the general idea is pretty creative, especially the good vegetarian vampire thing and the whole idea of them having special powers. Stephenie Meyer’s writing style is easy to read too. It’s flowery and pretty, but it really isn’t all roses either.

I can also see why girls may like it. Beautiful vampire often compared to a Greek Adonis loves average girl who leads and ordinary boring life. Girl meets vampire beautiful man and her life seems better. It’s true love and its everlasting undying love because even if Bella dies (I haven’t gotten to the fourth book yet) Edward will still love her. He will die for her by going to those Italian jerks the Volturi and ask him to take his very life because he would rather end his immortality than be with out his precious Bella Swan. What teenage girl wouldn’t want that kind of love for them? Not to mention its forbidden love because Edward could cave in and entirely kill her being highly attracted to her scent and all. I mean vampire human, predator prey it all comes down to binary opposition. One’s bad one’s good. Vampires being inherently strong with supernatural abilites and abomination against nature being undead and all and then there is humans who are weak, normal abilities and living beings. It would be a very interesting series to write a cultural type essay about, but I digress.

Anyways…So what are my issues with the books?

The author tells the story rather than shows it. She tells you how sad Bella is and uses like a paragraph to describe one item. It’s dumb. To me showing the reader what is happening captivates them.

Let me see 2 dimensional characters if your entirely lucky to come across one! A lot of them are just cardboard cut outs relegated to he said she said roles. They did this and they did that…Who cares? I know nothing about the characters except that the guys at Bella’s high school are all instantly in love with her, which makes sense because she is so entirely plain. And her girl friends are all about gossiping and other stereotypical girl stuff. Rah! I just hope none of my characters are like that, because that would be entirely demeaning to them. I love my characters and my stories.

Also, I’m sorry but I think Edward is a steaming pile of Gary Stu. AN ENTIRE GARY STU! He can do know wrong and is entirely beautiful and good and everyone hates him for it. Pretty much every chapter Bella is like oh “he is so beautiful” or “there he is a male supermodel with his golden topaz liquid eyes,” and blabedy blah! Urgh! I understood the fact that he is beautiful the entire time, stop friggen reminding me of it! I also find it contradictory that Bella insists she isn’t with him because of the way he looks or his money but she constantly describes how beautiful he is and how he is rich. Also Edward and Bella are so co-dependent on each other one of them leaves and they descend into entire gloominess. Especially Bella….

In fact from the three books that I have read…Bella mopes a lot, she’s clumsy and her whole entire world is about Edward and one day being an entire vampire….oooooh.

Currently I am reading the third book and I don’t know why. I just want to read all the books so I can say that I read them and I think they entirely suck. ENTIRELY SUCK! Then yesterday I misplaced one of the books, thinking that I lost it and I panicked, not because I wanted to finish reading it, but because I spent money on it and I couldn’t finish it to tell people how much I think it sucks. Yeah I am weird. I reading a series I entirely don’t like just because I have nothing better to do.

P.S. You Suck: A Love Story is a good vampire story…so there!

They take up way to much valuable space on my bookshelf. In fact let me be entirely callous and add the library as well. There are so many good books they could have at the library in town but they instead make space for the waste of words and trees that The Twilight series is. For instance more Robert Rankin books and Jasper Fforde books. Or maybe the entire series of the Acorna the Unicorn Girl books, I mean they have all of them except one and, and, and it just doesn’t make sense to me. My brain might implode from the insanity of obsessions.

I’m done with my scatterbrained rant for tonight.


P.S. Die hard Twilight fans will probably come after me with flame throwers and pitchforks now.

You’re a book!

Because today was Mothers Day, I wanted to show her I care. My mom (Hev-Lady) has had a recent surge of reading I decided the best way was to write her a small short story, to coincide with the bookmark I made her. My mom and I have our differences and we clash on more or one occasion, but I still appreciate her despite our issues. After all it is Mothers Day. And what better way to show this than to write, something she encouraged me to do through out the years.

So here is it. Staring no other than Hev-Lady and Ashleigh McGlonagkic complete with an inside joke. I have been attempting since I’ve gotten back from Australia to teach her word play insults. If that’s what you call them? She is slowly getting the hang of it.

You’re a book!

“I’m going to read a book,” says Hev-Lady, resting comfortably on the living room couch, entitled to rest it being Mother’s Day and all.
“You’re a book,” Ashleigh replies automatically. Hev-Lady’s sighs echoes through out the small house.
“Then why don’t you read me then?” Hev-Lady questions. “If I am a book as you say.”
“You’re hard to read,” Ashleigh says, “one of a kind, like any book. That’s why for Mothers Day I am giving you a bookmark to read other books.”
“You’re a bookmark,” Hev-Lady says. “Did I say it right?”
“Yes mom,” says Ashleigh. “Then I say...’I’ll mark your book,’ to which you reply?”
“You’re face is?”
“No! “I’ll book you’re mark,” Ashleigh sighs exasperated from trying to teach her mother word games all day. “But seriously I made you a book mark.”
“It looks thrown together,” Hev-Lady replies, still happy about the present mind you.
“I kind of procrastinated,” Ashleigh admits. “But it has flowers on it. You like flowers!”
“It has scribbled flowers all over it,” says Hev-Lady. “But I like it just the same.”
“You’re scribbled flowers,” Ashleigh retorts. “I’d had limited resources and time.”
“Enough of that now,” says Hev-Lady. “Let me read. The bookmark will still serve its purpose.”

P.S. Mom liked it!

14 out of 100 entries :S 86 more to go!

Deep thinking...?

I can’t wait to see the new Star Trek. I am so excited to see it. I thought it was kind of funny that some of the purists don't like the new film because it doesn't stay true to the original cannon. I prefer to think of it as a different interpretation of Gene Roddenberrys vision. It’s a different take on the original cannon so to speak. I am looking forward to the newer look. I believe William Shatner said to the die hard trekkies or trekkers or whatever the hell they are called "to get a life." I can understand why maybe the purists to the original series may not like the new version. Maybe it’s like some people when they make a book into a movie. If I see the movie version I hardly ever leave satisfied. I'll always love the book version no matter what and it irritates me what Hollywood does to my idea of story. If they ever made a movie version of Thursday Next series, I'd probably cause a riot. Characters are foremost belong to the author, but they can also belong to the readers or viewers in the case of Star Trek in a different way. They are peoples heroes they love the story that the author created so much any tampering or changing in there opinion maybe considered a downright assault or attack on their imagination and there emotional connections to the character and the story.

It kind of reminds me of Roland Barthes and his idea that there are no authors only readers and the author is the first reader. So the author created the characters and story and sees it one way, but different individuals would see it differently than the next individual. So could Hollywood merely just be another reader and putting a different text out there to be interpreted by more readers, to the point that the meaning and the original meaning of it is endlessly deferred. Like Jacques Derrida’s example of how meaning is endlessly deferred and compared it to the dictionary, that there is no same meaning for the same thing. So the story or the text the author started out with is totally different than what he or she intended. Does this mean there is no such thing as creative enterprise if not seen how it’s intended and is there a such a thing as an original idea? Is there an author? Is there only creative readers?

Case in point I am ultimately putting to much thought into this subject again. Of course all of this is purely my opinion. I digress, I like Star Trek, but I am not obsessed and if I look at it as a different interpretation of the idea then it doesn't bother me too much, because I to am a reader and different than all the others readers out there in my views and interpretations of books as well as a Star Trek.

I almost got hit by a car last night. It was so close I could feel the front tire right by my foot! The groceries I had in my bag were damaged. A box of granola bars were dented right in and my bread was flattened into an unspeakable mass. It was a close call and I got me thinking what if? It was the scariest thing I've had happen in my life, including the time when I was eight and I was electrocuted by my great grandfather’s night light that he gave me. It's safe to say I've had two near death experiences now. It's kind of creepy. It makes me wonder if there is a set time for everyone to enter the world and then to leave it. I hope I leave peacefully and that I am content with how I lived my life when it happens, but I think everyone wants that. I don't think we have a choice in the matter sadly. Much like the act of reading and everyone’s different interpretations and views on it. I have no choice how people will read my work and I have no choice about when I die, but at least being a writer I leave myself and my words behind for others to read and interpret. Funny how I bring a near death experience back to reading and writing, maybe it’s because it’s a BIG part of my life. It’s what I do and enjoy whilst I am living.

Again…thinking about things way to deeply again.

P.S. I write at work, but not for work so I am technically being paid to write, but merely for my own amusement. :P

13/100 entries

Ketchup the Writerer

People make me so angry sometimes. So annoyed that I may never go to a particular restaurant ever again! Why can’t my brother go anywhere with out some douche bag judging him?

Here is the story:

Mom, Tony and I were at Pizza Hut having lunch. Tony loves pizza and he was particularly happy because he won a race against me to get there. The idea was I’d pick up some books I ordered from the book store and see if I would beat him and my mom there, which he did. Mom ordered him the buffet and because he is independent and likes to do things himself, he got his own food. Mom offered to help, but knowing if she interfered he would get irritated and cause a big upset. He has one ear splitting scream and is known to throw, lie down on the floor and not get up, etc, etc…On Tony’s second trip, (we sent him to get more pizza and pasta so he would not eat our own pizzas) he came back to the table with his plate heaping full of pizza, breadsticks, pasta and dripping with salad dressing. (He loves salad dressing) and the store owner no less, got mad at him for dripping on the floor, saying my mom should have been helping him and she would have gotten him a tray and blahbeddy blah. My mom went up to her and tried to explain that he was special needs and wanted to be independent so to avoid a meltdown she let him try on his own, but the lady wouldn’t listen. She made Tony feel like a little kid, less than human and talked about him like he wasn’t even there. I knew Tony understood when he started worrying and compulsively cleaning up the spills on the table, followed by profusely apologising. This however, wasn’t as bad as some incidents.

About six of seven years ago, I was at the movie theatre with my family and my brother excited about seeing Spiderman was being a bit loud, a bit too loud for some cantankerous overweight feral, (I could use much stronger words…) Became upset with my brothers behaviour and demanded that my brother be quiet or leave! A shouting match, mixed with curse words ensued starting with mom and ending with mom, me and the ugly man caused such a ruckus we were all asked to leave. This man said something I will never forget. “Put him into a cage where he belongs!” These words still haunt me to this day. I can hear him say it as clear as a bell. It still makes me angry.

Normality is a confounding subject. Why is it if you are not normal you’re expected to either attempt as much as possible to achieve normality or become invisible so the supposed norm isn’t interrupted by your difference? As far as I’m concerned normal, as well as its synonyms shouldn’t even be available in the English language. The thing I loved most about most of my university classes is that lectures banned the use of it or encouraged students to come up with a different word.

Also why are special needs people treated differently? It’s like they are there, but no one wants to see them at the same time. It’s like the olden days when my mom said children were seen not heard. It’s the same for special needs people. I got hell from a lady with a big family and a car heaping full of stuff because I sent her away when I was closing my till at work on day, not because she was trying to be sneaky and go through because apparently if there is no “lane closed sign she can.” (We have different rules on that matter). She was mad because when a lady with her special needs son came to my till shortly after and not immediately noticing my lane closed sign asked if they could come though I said it was OK. Why? Because I have a soft spot for special needs children. I know how tough it is when you are shopping with someone with disabilities, (the stares you get for starters), but I know that some special needs children like my brother when they are over stimulated or something is bothering them, they tend to have meltdowns. I was trying to help the lady hopefully avoid this, meanwhile thinking hoping that I am not being to presumptuous about her son and his disabilities and what not.

So of course when the lady with the family noticed she said. “Oh you can help her, but not us?” The way she suggested it to me sounded like it was a just on lady not a mother or aid-worker with a special needs child. I felt like I was being ostracised because I wouldn’t help a normal family. So I said “she only had a few items and they have strict rules at work that you must be done on time”, but I left the special needs thing out because the lady with her special child was still there and I didn’t her to think I was just helping the mother because her son was special needs. I wanted to help because I felt it was the right thing to do! After all of this the lady with a big cart of stuff had the nerve to say I was prejudice because she was Native American. First off this had nothing to do with race, the lady and her son were East Indian, not that it matters. It had nothing to do with the amount of stuff she had. If I am prejudice it’s against people who have no tolerance towards the handicapped or play the stupid race card. I digress…I told other cashiers and some other associates and they said I did a nice thing. So there lady with big family cart full of stuff who tries to sneak into my till and then thinks I am racist! Rah! If she did end up complaining I’d tell them the big long spiel I wrote down. LANE CLOSED!

Hopefully I am done ranting on this subject! However, if I were in politics or what ever I’d definitely campaign for special needs people! They need more funding to make things accessible for them enjoy life like anyone else, they need respect. They are human too, but I guess some people are so wrapped up in their normal lives they forget about them, don’t see them or don’t care about them or anything abnormal and in the end it makes me very sad.

I guess this is random putting up a story after my long ranting session, but it kind of has to do with being prejudice. The character Kassy is treated like dirt because she can’t write to either Carly’s or James standards. Kassy is one who thinks she is a writer, but isn’t. Although I don’t think I put that in this fragment. It is because of this she is seen as abnormal and one of the characters James in particular is mean to her because of it. While Carly knows the behaviour is inexcusable she still lets it continue for some reason…almost amused by it, acting like its not even happening. I read too much into my stuff I guess.

Monday, August 15, 2005

Ketchup the Writerer

James sits across from me as surly as ever, Sam sits beside me rolling a ball point pen back and forth across the table. The pen clicks and clacks as it rolls. He was lost in thought, absorbed in his own world as usual. I sit there staring into space.
“Carly!” (a voice behind me) Kassy the Writerer exclaims.
“How are you?” she asks.
“I’m fine,” I reply.
James glares at her, his eyes squinting though his black framed glasses, his chocolate brown eyes dark and mean.
“Hi James!” she waves her hand up in friendly wave.
He stares back at her. “Did any of us say you could sit down with us?”
“I-I haven’t sit down yet,” she replies awkwardly.
“Well are you going to sit down or what?”
She slowly sits on the chair beside me.
“I J-just wrote another chapter in my story,” Kassy says attempting to make conversation.
Sam continues to roll the pen.
“Is this your friend?” She asks pointing at Sam. She smiles awkwardly.
“Oh yeah,” I reply. “He is my fiancé, Sam,” I smile awkwardly.
The pen stops rolling. Sam looks at me.
“Uh Sam, this is Kassy. Kassy this is Sam,” I say.
“Oh…”
Whapp! A ketchup packet thuds on her left ear.
James smirks, Sam snorts, I sigh, Kassy cries.
“James are you bored or something?”
“The ketchup hurt me,” Kassy sobbed.
“Are you allergic to tomatoes?” Sam asks.
“No, just ketchup,” she replies.

P.S. I’ve been writing more lately :)

12/100!!!

Forget Breakfast!

One of the few things that I’ve had a consistent habit or relationship with since I can remember is my alarm clock, to be more specific the snooze button. Even the alarm clock changes, whether it be an old battered one (no thanks to my brother throwing it several hundred times) I had for about 7 years, a cheap $2 analogue from the Warehouse, the one on my mobile phone or the new one I got this past Christmas. The snooze button and I have always made contact, which I think is rather excessive. One may press the snooze button 1 or 2 times. I seem to push it at least 7 or more in the morning. I think the record was 2 hours before I finally got out of bed and I had 30 minutes to get ready for work. It’s such a bad habit; I used to leave myself with 20 minutes till I had to be out the door to work. I just like sleep or maybe I just like to press the snooze button for no apparent reason. I am safe in my bed, the world hasn’t tainted me yet and made me bitterer or annoyed with life that it already has.

For example, I set my alarm for 8:30 a.m. to give some time to get ready for the bus at 10:30a.m.…I kept pushing the snooze button till 9:50 a.m.! I played musical alarm clock for almost an hour and 20 minutes. I went from alarm clock, to bed, to dream land to being woken up by alarm clock, to pressing the snooze button, then back to bed and so the cycle continued. Meanwhile my dog Sydney curled into a ball at my feet shifted behind my legs so I wouldn’t keep disturbing every 9 minutes that I got up to press the snooze button once again. Meanwhile I vaguely remember Sydney looking at me occasionally in my zombie state, saying with those cute little brown eyes, “no really Melissa how long is this going to go on?”

So how do I break this incredibly bad habit? How do I get up shut my alarm off, ignore the snooze button and stay away from my bed? I swear if I could, my mornings would be much less stressed.

Ironically I found a story that mirrors my relationship with the alarm clock…It’s a Carly fragment. :P I also want to make a note that any story I write or post on here is entirely copyrighted!

Thursday, July 28, 2005

Forget Breakfast!

The sun beats down on me as I walk along the dusty road. No one is in sight. The heat attacks me making me sweat, my lips dry.
I come to a cliff I see a shadowy figure.
“Sam,” I ask.
He turns around. His hazel eyes light up. He smiles
“Carly?” he replies.
His tanned skin glistens from sweat. His smell amazing, I am drawn to him.
He gazes into my eyes and leans into me for a passionate kiss.
“Beep!”
“Rrrringgg!”
The alarms clocks go off.
I sit up in a daze. It was only a dream.
“Carly…!” my roommate Noel screams.
I smack the alarm clocks.
“ringgg…” I shove it to the ground.
Complete silence.
I miss him. I love him and now its too late.
I quickly get dressed. I dash out of my bedroom.
Crash! I tripped over something big and squishy. Its my brother Tony what’s he doing here?
Tony continues to sleep, unaware that I almost dilapidated myself. It’s a gift in our family. We sleep like hibernating bears. (or bears in hibernation.) My massive brother rolls over and continues to snore.
I kick him.
“Tony!”
“Grawlbhlik,” he answers.
I walk over to the kitchen. The microwave tells me I have five minutes before I need to leave for work.
Forget Breakfast!

P.S. The world’s worst weapon is the tongue. Words said the wrong way are like a thousand poisonous pointy spears. Now I know what all the literary theorist where on about when they mentioned the anxiety of language…

11/100 entries...89 more to go :S

Honeydew Mellon

Have you ever had a conversation on msn that abruptly ends? I mean your talking and then all of a sudden you run out of things to talk about and then its just silence for what seems like ever and then every 10 – 20 minutes you ask if they are there and they reply yes...then someone says some thing random like “I’m bored.” Or “I’m tired.” Then once again the silence continues. Its like the two people in the conversation couldn’t be bothered to talk to each other anymore and can’t figure out a polite way to say I’m talk to you later or I’m going now….Its just silence, no clicking of the keyboard, no nothing. It makes me feel anxious because I think, they may think that I am ignoring them or that I don’t want to talk to them anymore. The thing is I do, but I have run out of something to say to them. Finally after the conversation has stagnated, I just say I’m going to bed or they don’t even bother to say good bye and you see they have gone offline. I feel kind of bad the conversation peaked, and then dwindled into oblivion with random small talk until it was finally over. Sometimes being merely side track results in the death of the conversation itself.

A prime example of this is conversations with my friend Carol. We both seem to think our lives are so boring that we run out of things to talk about. We have the occasional running of the getting out of frustrations and advice giving but after an hour if its on a particular day where nothing exciting happened the conversation usually ends up stagnating and its not because we don’t like to talk to each other. I think we just run out of stuff to talk about or feel we have nothing to talk about. However I think we are interesting but we fail to see it as we are so wrapped up in the “my life is boring all I do is eat, sleep and work.”

I miss the conversations I had with my friend Chris where we’d talk about anything. We actually would have conversations that started and finished. For starters and in no particular order, we talked about:

1. You're face!
2. Boobies
3. Random garbles of words e.g. adhfdshfsdjlkdsfjdslkjfdslkjdfslkjdslk;
4. Flat to Myself movie trilogy.
5. Carol/Philis like stories.
6. Occasional moments of advice, usually about my obsessions, but hardly ever about his. (I feel bad about that)
7. ANYTHING Song of the Superheroes related this includes Fizzy Lemonade and its upcoming possible sequels. One time we had an msn conversation in which we role played. I was Sarah Evans and he was Fergus and we having a mock interview. These conversations went on for hours. HOURS!
8. Other stories we were working on that was not Song of the Superheroes related.
9. Random hellos and plans for the next day (Whilst in Australia of course, better yet Rockhampton!)
10. Reminders to update ones blog “DATE UP! DATE UP! DATE UP! DATE UP! NOW! NOW! NOW! NOW!”
11. Sometimes romantical woes.
12. Other friends, but not in a bad behind your back way. For example, with one friend being in another city, it was merely an informational thing.
13. Literary and cultural theories.

Being that I am on about msn and it reminds me of script format. I thought I should post a short script story I wrote. Seeing as the idea of April is to showcase my unfinished stories...

Monday, May 28, 2007
Honeydew Mellon

Sam is picking vegetables in the food produce aisle at a local grocery store. Frank wanders behind Sam.
Frank: You know what? One time I bought a pineapple.
Sam: (Jumps, is a bit startled as he isn’t expecting company.) Oh I see…
Frank: Yes it tasted good.
Sam: (Standoffishly) Oh course…
Frank: It tasted like pineapple.
Sam: What else would it taste like? (Tries to get away from the insane nerd)
Frank and Sam are now in vegetable aisle hovering past the fruits.
Frank: I thought it would taste like pine trees and apples but it tasted much different.
Sam: OK…How about trying this honeydew melon? (Hand the green melon to Frank.)
Frank: A honey flavoured melon that’s ingenious!

My thoughts: I wrote this almost two years ago! I was still in Australia! I like this story fragment! I’ve decided I will not dig up anything past 2005 because before that was kind of (in my opinion) horrendous. Mind you I am my own worst critic.

Oh yeah and this is entirely random but a flatmate briefly had a cute little dog called Honey Dew Mellon, but she was called Honey.

P.S. I found out that in high school I was considered a walking dictionary. Just ask one of my old high school classmates.

10/100 entries...

read own risk Grammar demons beware

9 out of 100 entries…

Well its late, 12 am late. I’m tired, but not tired. My mind is full of thoughts…

Lately I feel like people think I am stupid, shy reserved. Someone actually referred to me as “timid.” Another said I have a “soft heart”…I think people know I don’t have an adequate backbone so they play on it. At work I am apparently known as the quiet one who reads books. I have a vendetta against assumptions. They irritate me. What irks me more is that I sometimes think I secretly agree with what people think of me and I am annoyed with myself for thinking that I am stupid.

Lately I can’t remember my dreams. They are all garbled. Usually I don’t like dreaming. I have anxiety of what my subconscious will display to me in my slumber and occasionally it causes me insomnia because I don’t want to dream. Occasionally I have a really cool, weird dream that results in a story idea and I hope for them often, but lately if I dream they feel like I am in some mild sort of delirium and I cannot remember a thing. I took my special dreams for granted and now I have seemed to have lost them. Grrrr….Hopefully they will come back!

Anyways the reason why I am on the subject of dreams is because my next story fragment deals with a character dreaming. However, I did not dream it (if that makes any sense) but I did write it? I actually remember writing it too, how I felt awkward trying to write horror, I’ve long since abandoned that genre. I’ve settled more into far fetched fiction. When I found it, the file was called. “Qlever Queen read own risk Grammar demons beware.” I can kind of see why. By the way “Qlever is supposed to be Clever.” I used to think that clever was spelt with a q. I even found a comment I made on it 3 years before. :P

Qlever Queen (unofficial title)
Written: Saturday, October 26, 2002
Poem written: Thursday, October 24, 2002

She grabs me by my neck and holds me to the ground. She blows green smoke at me that smells like fish. It is cold and I realize that I am in the woods.
“Face your fears and the stronger you will become,” said a voice.
“Maria?” I said.
The decaying woman becomes more visible underneath the flesh I see Nelda.
“Nelda?” I said.
“Danny, you know me?” she said.
“Of course,” I replied.
“You don’t know how long I have loved you,” she said, as her nose fell off and an ear too.
“I am sorry I don’t feel the same,” I said.
“Go then,” she said. “I hope you know what you did to me.” More flesh fell off.
“Danny,” said the voice. “Run!”
A path was lit in green. It was narrow and hard to see, but you would run too if you were me.
“Danny, this way,” I heard it again.
“Maria!” I said. I saw her crying and then she grabs me.
“Wake up,” she commands me.
I wake up in a terrible sweat, shaking.
“You’re still dreaming,” said Maria in a creepy voice.
“What!” I said.
“You need to face your fears, so you called the friend that you hold dear,” she replied. “Except I am not Maria I am Qlever Queen.”
“You told me never to forget you,” I said still shaking.
“So that’s why I am here. I am sure wish I remembered.”
“If you told me to wake up, why am I still dreaming?” I asked.
“Well you were supposed to but you didn’t listen so I brought you here so she couldn’t get to you.”
“A shamrock is fearless you have to defeat your fear.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“You have inner strength take something that is powerful from you and use it.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“You will know when you have too. I think I am a clue to what it is.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“I am still your friend right?”
“Yeah.”
“I have to go I can’t do it for you.”
Qlever Queen disappears, green cape, chocolate brown hair and sad eyes.)
The door glows green and bursts open.
“Did you think you could get away so fast?” she said menacingly.
She grabs me and pushes me out the window. I thought, I don’t want to fall out I wont let her get me. I stop in mid air and come back in the window. I look to see the broken glass rebuilding its self piece by piece, like a puzzle.
“Qlever Queen,” said Nelda “Why won’t he love me?”
“Because he loves someone else,” she replied.
“I wish too know who. I want her to appear so I can tell her that he is mine not hers.”
“Qlever Queen looks at her. Her eyes roll back. And she says, “Go ahead and tell me.”
I feel a shock, something I have never felt before.
“First off he doesn’t belong to anyone,” she said. “He belongs to himself.”
“Qlever Queen I want to kiss him weither he wants to or not.”
My mind goes blank. She grabs me and kisses me. Picture this, moulding decaying lips, green teeth and a slimy black tounge. Worst thing is I swallowed her tounge. I spit it out.
“Curly caught your tounge,” said Qlever Queen laughing.
The tounge squirms all over the floor. My mouth tasted like icy soap.
All of a sudden I am in a bathroom.
“Need toothpaste and brush?” asked Qlever Queen.
I quickly grab it and start brushing my teeth. It didn’t get better it got worse. Instead of minty fresh, I got stinky breath. I looked on the paste label it said “fish paste.”
“I love it when a man’s breath smells like fish,” said Nelda, now falling apart even more. She picks her tounge up off the floor and sticks it back in her mouth.
“That’s better,” she said.
“Don’t you think I am more beautiful now?”
I looked in the mirror and saw what she thought she looked like. Instead of a decaying girl, it was Tabitha.
“Tabitha all a long,” I said stunned.
“Do you want to kiss me now?” she asked.
“Not really,” I said.
“To bad,” she grabs me and kisses me again. It was even worse than before. One of her eyes fell out.
“Oh excuse me a minute,” she said picking it up and putting it back in the socket.
“Looking at you with two eyes is better than one.”
Qlever Queen starts to say a poem.

I look out the window
And see his face.
His golden brown hair
And how he walks with grace.
I don’t think he knows
How much I care
His eyes are full of
Beauty and light.
I try not to think about him with all my might.
His brown eyes are soft
And warm.
My love grows stronger
Like a thunder storm.
To have him embrace
Me in his arms is my will.
But, I know in my heart
His love belongs to someone else
Still.
I don’t care if he smells
Like fish.
To have one kiss would
Be my wish
I know he is the one for
Me
He is the only one I see
I look out the window
And I see his face.

“My love belongs to someone still,” I said. Maria I thought.
“No you can’t,” she screamed.
I look at poor Nelda.
“If only you could see what I see,” I said.
She looks in the mirror and screams.
I open the door and start to go.
She collapses to the floor and starts to cry.
“No one loves me,” she cried.
“Nelda, someone loves you,” I said.
“Why don’t you love me?” she asked.
“Because I love someone else,” I said.
“I grab some tissue and wipe her eyes.
“I wish I didn’t feel so bad,” she said.
“Everyone feels bad sometimes,” I said.
“I am sorry,” she said.
“Its OK I am still your friend,” I said.
“You’re my friend?” she said looking at me happily.
“Your nose is running.” I hand her a tissue.
“Thanks I needed that,” she said. “Do you think in a few years you will change your mind?” she asked.
“No I am sorry,” I said. “Do you think you might change your mind?”
“Maybe,” she said.
“You know I think I saw Michael eying you,” I told her.
“Really, the turtle geek?” She started to smile. “Wow Michael.”
“You can go now. I will be OK,” she said.
“OK,” I said. “I will see you at school tomorrow.”
“Yes you most certainly will,” she replied.
“Good,” I said, as I walked out the door.
I woke up for real this time I looked at the clock 5 a.m. Time to get up.

My thoughts: This story needs work. It is crap! I think it should be changed to Clever Queen. Not to mention Qlever Queen disappears than moments later reappears. It makes no sense. This calls for a re-write – Thursday, February 2, 2006

My thoughts: I find this story amusing! What’s with all the body parts falling off of poor Nelda? Hopefully this part would be written after I attempted to explain what a shamrock was. I do agree that a re-write is in order or perhaps consideration to be re-written and place someplace else? Or maybe just read from time to time for mere amusement? It is still nonsensical AND the tenses are mixed up too! – Sunday, April 12, 2009

Maybe tomorrow I will dig up something from 2003....

P.S. I can’t believe I used to think clever was spelt with a q.

Invisiblness Syndrome...Nooooo Invisiblness isn't a word!

8/100 (92 more entries to go...)

Well it appears that I have written before the month is over, which is more than I can say for March. I’ve been so down the last few months even the things I once loved deeply such as writing in my blog just for the sake of spouting out pointless dribble about my life and thoughts seemed to be more of a chore than an escape or a procrastination method that it once was. I hope this will change in the future.

Today I started reading some of my old stories. Some of them as old as 6 – 7 years old, I find them amusing and I wonder what I was thinking at the time. Therefore I think April should be old stories month… I am going to post an old piece of a story that I have long forgotten about and review it …It’s a month of fragments starting with this random one from 2002 the year I realised that I wanted to be a writer.

Invisiblness Syndrome
Written: Sunday, September 1, 2002

“You said you were my friend,” said Alex.
“Exactly,” said Maria friend as in friend,” said Maria, “Not the other kind of friend..”
“What kind of friend is there?” questioned Alex.
“We’re too different,” said Maria.
“If we were meant to be, I would no longer be invisible.”
Alberticus walks in the room.
“Maria where are you?” he said. “I forgot to tell you that I would be late.”
“Bert, this isn’t a good time,” said Alex glaring at Bert looking at him like he was intruding.
“How do you know?” said Alex, “no matter what you will never be invisible to me.”
Maria did not answer she just stared blankly at him.
“Are you sure about us being different?” asked Alex.
“Who’s different?” asked Bert.
“I was talking to Maria,” Alex retorted.
“Yes I am. I am invisible. If you noticed me, you could see me right now.”
“Well you don’t look so invisible to me,” said Bert. “You’re right in front of me.”
Maria did not answer. She just stood for a moment, thinking, wow my invisibilness syndrome has worn off.
“You don’t deserve to be invisible,” said Bert. “No matter how invisible you are, you will always be my friend.”
“What?” said Alex.
“No, I really was invisible. It wasn’t a metaphor for how I feel,” said Maria.
“Oh you had invisiblness syndrome,” replied Alberticus. “My grandpa had that.”
“Invisibliness isn’t at word,” retorted Alex. “Its invisibility and there is no such thing as being invisible. It is feeling invisible.”
“Oh, How would you know?” said Maria “Ghosts are invisible.”
“And see through,” added Bert.
“There is no such thing as ghosts,” said Alex.
“Yes there is. Just because you can’t see them doesn’t mean they don’t exist,” said Maria.
“Yeah, how do you know?” asked Bert. “You’re not a ghost.”
“Neither are you,” said Alex.
“You are an amazing person why can’t you see that?” insisted Alex.
“Well I am sure she can see,” said Bert rolling his eyes.
“See what?” said Maria looking at Alberticus amusingly.
“That you are way more amazing then you think,” said Bert.
“That’s just a rephrase of what I said,” said Alex.
“I was not finished,” said Bert.
“Oh really,” said Alex rudely.
“Yes and I wasn’t repraisng you.”
“Rephrase,” said Alex.
“Whatever Alex,” replied Bert.
“What meant was Maria doesn’t see the Maria I see,” explained Bert. “Besides she can’t be herself the way you want her too.”
“Oh shut up Alberticus,” snapped Alex.
“She was invisible before you noticed she was there,” said Bert. “What would make you decide to like her now?”
“Maybe I couldn’t see what was important before,” said Alex.
“Well I noticed her first. She went invisible because I forgot her. I forgot her name,” said Bert.
“You wouldn’t understand Alex,” said Maria.
“I am sorry Maria,” Bert said sadly.
“I am sorry too,” replied Maria. “I never realized how cool you are. I really like your hair.”
“Ahh,” said Alberticus smiling, as he pats Maria on the head. Maria smiles.
“Oh please, you pat a dog or a cat on the head,” said Alex sounding annoyed. “That stupid Curly patented approach you think you could do something more original.”

My thoughts: What the? I don’t remember writing this at all. Although I do vaguely remember thinking about these characters for this story idea I was obsessed about since I was 15. There seems to be an invisible love triangle going on at an indistinguishable location, with unseen description to add to the banter of constant dialogue. I have no idea where they are and what they are doing. Although I just remembered it might be taking place at a dinning room where they work. Probably should have mentioned that. I have no emotional attachment to this story fragment. If I do it is invisible if you get my drift. Maybe that’s why I don’t remember writing it. I do notice how I am still a fan of characters talking. If you ever notice sometimes in my stories, there is A LOT of dialogue but it’s pretty slim on the description. Oh yeah and Alberticus is a cool name. :P Other than that I hate this story.

Till next time…

P.S. Don’t you think I haven’t forgotten about my New Year’s resolution to post 100 entries by 2010! This is entry 8 out of the hopeful 100, which means I would have to post at least 11- 12 times a month in the next eight months, which means I better get cracking. This will be one resolution I want to keep!

Blog Neglect!

It’s almost and hour till March is over. So I’ll make this blog post quick.

I am guilty of blog neglect and for that I should be entirely ashamed. ENTIRELY ASHAMED!

But I am sick, with a cold.

Sick of being sick.

But still alive!

Holding on to whatever sanctity I have left. (If there is any?)

THE END!

For some reason writing this reminds me about my brother. One time when he frequented my computer to quench is Paper Mario, Final Fantasy, Banjo Kazooie, etc, etc, obsession he took note of the many Microsoft word documents on my computer one day and inquired about them. I said it was my writing, my stories and he seemed ecstatic and pleased with me and said. “Good girl Melissa, Good Job Melissa!” Then preceded by giving me a good pat on the back. Which goes to show he is smarter than he lets on.

Maybe, just maybe remembering that should be sufficient motivation to return to my craft? I guess you could say I miss Tony a lot.

P.S. Perhaps a summary of interesting events that occurred during the past month should be in order?

P.P.S. I am sick

P.P.P.S.S. Cashiers more for the crap they have to put up with.

MY ENTIRE MIND!

I keep losing things lately as of now my winter hat and my brush is missing, wait I merely looked a second and found my hat lying in the laundry basket. Perhaps if I look there my brush will be there too? Had a quick look and it is still missing.

Another thing I seem to be losing at an alarming rate, my entire mind. MY ENTIRE MIND! When people ask me how I am doing or what are my plans I keep saying I’m good or I am up to nothing really, but want I really want to say is I am waiting for my life to start again. It has seemed to come to an abrupt halt. A complete standstill… and the things that shouldn’t be worrying me are and those that should aren’t. For instance I couldn’t give a crap about student loans and whether or not they take my money, after it was there money that got me too Australia in the first place.

I’ve been trying to get back to my writing but I am just stumped. I have all these ideas stuck in my head just itching to get out, but I can’t place them into words.I have this sneaky habit of having a story idea, starting to write about it but then putting it aside because for starters.

a) I get bored with it
b) I get stumped. I am unsure of how the story progresses next. I guess this is a classic case of writers block.
c) I write fragments of the stories as they come to me and I have no idea of how to piece them all together. One time I wrote the ending first, but I couldn’t figure out where the beginning starts or if a story even has a beginning, but merely a starting point.
d)I start to hate it because it just gets on my nerves causing me to get frustrated with the piece I am working on.
e) I forget about it.
f) I focus too much on the characters to the point that I am not sure how to do them justice. It’s hard to explain.
g) This sounds weird but the characters don’t like what I am writing or additional characters I am adding.

I’ve only really finished one story, but it still feels like I am not done it at the same time. I always wonder is a story ever finished? Oh wells I hope you enjoy my writing and reviews are always nice.

Then there is the fact that I don’t own the English language in which I am creating these supposed stories. I don’t even own the symbols that make the language possible. No one does and if you want technical not a single thought is possible without it. Lacan even said it. There is no self, no thought without language. And I think it was Barthes who postulated that we don’t own language. So I am I stealing or something, or just merely existing in a system of signs unaware of the power of words I use and the anxiety that comes with the use of language. Not mention there is no author only readers and I am a first reader. Case in point I am rambling. The English language, better yet language and the art of using it creatively in stories confounds me.

P.S. Ummmm…..Its my 200th post in this blog.

How I spent my Sunday Afternoon.

Today I saw a movie that brought me back to my fascination with cultural analysis type days back at university.

Anything for Love (also known as Just One of the Girls, a Canadian film :P) is a story about Chris Cadler a musically talented and rather effeminate teenage boy who falls in love with the stereotypically blonde beautiful Marie Stark while pretending to be a girl to escape a bully. I see this movie dealing more with sexual identity and the stereotypical gender codes we are forced to follow rather than a stereotypical teen romantic comedy, which just proves that I read too much into stuff.

Chris and his friend Dan are frequently victimized by Kurt and his gang of followers. Kurt is a a rough creepy fellow who seems to have a fetish for dominating others where it be his friends who aid in his bullying or others. He wears tight jeans and leather which brings a certain negative stereotype to life. Kurt is the epitome of hyper masculinity. More about him later…

Chris enrols in Bentley high school for their music program. Soon it is found out that his tormentor Kurt also attends the school. On his first day of attendance he can’t even make in the front door with out Kurt harassing him. So he devises a plan to get in the front door. With the help of his sister and perhaps the inspiration of a person he saw on the bus that may or may not be transsexual. (She looked very Mrs. Lachlans’ Mumish.) Chris decides to dress like a female and soon as he is inside he change back. His plan is amazingly successful. However, he encounters two teachers while dressed as a girl and somehow gets stuck in this role, something I don’t understand because his disguise is transparent. I could tell he was a guy dressed in drag and he seemed to have no qualms with acting like a female. Despite this Chris is constantly trying to keep up with the charade with somewhat humorous and stereotypical results.

Nearly everyone is deceived. Marie becomes his best friend after Chris helps her escape from her boyfriend John who constantly pressures her to have sex with him when she is not ready. This part kind of reminded me of a scenario in health class, where everyone had to watch the videos on abstinence or waiting till we were ready, the ones with cheesy story lines and bad acting. There were several of these types of moments in the entire movie. THE ENTIRE MOVIE! Even more so when John dumps her for not going all the way, it is implicit that he is an asshole, but that is typical male behaviour that is somewhat a given and could and would be expected from a teenage boy. Marie’s typical female response is to be all sad and emotive about it. Marie wants it to be special, while because John is a guy just wants to have the physical side of it.

Marie even convinces Chris to join the cheerleading squad, at first he declines, but when told he could potentially spend a weekend with cheerleaders he accepts because being a boy he clearly likes to ogle womanly bits. It is this attraction to the opposite sex, which is seen as a problem with his sexual identity by the gym teacher/councillor Ms. Glatt who noticed him gazing at other girls whilst cleaning showers. It is because of these perversions his secret is discovered. When she speaks to Chris she assumes that he is merely a lesbian, trying to hide her secret feelings. While having the discussing in her office Chris assumes that she is talking about him being a male and dressing as a girl. When he reveals himself she freaks out because apparently dressing in woman’s clothing is a completely different matter. Chris quickly pointed out that there was no difference and made up a story about him having a fetish since he was 11. She suggests counselling to help him with his fetish for woman’s clothing.

However the part of the movie I found the most interesting was how Kurt is immediately attracted to Chris’s persona “Chrissy”. He becomes hopelessly love sick. Throughout the film he is constantly vying for “her” affections. Chris finds that he can use his feminine side to manipulate him as well as maybe play with emotions as well. Chris even asks his sister Julie if there is a way to manipulate him to do his own biding. In which she asks if me means to emasculate him. Chris is successful you see a change in Kurt’s appearance and his aggression slightly subsides. It is implied by Chris that Kurt is homosexual because he is always around guys and is constant need to dominate other guys and emasculate them, symbolically robbing them of their manhood by beating them and harassing them. It becomes more awkward when it is discovered that Kurt is Marie’s brother.

His parents seem oblivious to his activities, but once they are slowly unravelled his father Louis in particular becomes concerned, especially when Kurt brings him flowers and a love note when Chris is not at home. He immediately assumes Chris is in the middle of a gay love affair and hopes to God that Chris and Marie are sleeping together. He asks Chris if he is gay and says it’s OK, when its semi clear that it is, but it isn’t. Chris replies by telling him that it was just a joke, a way of Kurt harassing him. Eventually when Chris’s true intentions for dressing as a female are revealed his father replies by saying “you should have stood up to him (Kurt) I didn’t raise a sissy.” His father forbids him to go back to school like a girl and intends to transfer him to another school. Sadly Chris needs too stay at the school in order to attend a winter showcase, where talent agents are attending and could aid in his career as a musician, but his father is intent on him not becoming a female again to the point that he is almost irate.

When Chris finally comes out with the truth he is booed at by a crowed in a pep rally, slapped by Marie who misconceived his intentions a way to get into her pants and nearly beaten up by Kurt. Although Kurt’s reaction was more from embarrassment as he had no idea Chris was a girl. The stigma attached to being in love with a boy was clearly relevant throughout the film and oddly Chris doesn’t seem to be too worried about Kurt’s crush on him, more likely amused. Anyways, on a movie level it was somewhat better than some cross dressing type movies but like I said earlier a lot of scenes reminded me of health class. I found it to be kind of dull, a way to pass the time. It was sweet, but kind of sour as far as movie experiences go, utter tripe. However, on a cultural level I found it to be profoundly interesting especially Chris’s relationship with Kurt, both as a guy and as a girl, as well as the reactions from Chris’s parents and his teachers.

I could ramble on, but I will just leave it at that….so now you know how I spent my Sunday afternoon rather than going to church to apease my mom.

P.S. Alanis Morissette had an entire cameo in the movie I just talked about. AN ENTIRE CAMEO! She sings at the end!

It's been done!

So it finally happened. Something I for the last couple of years thought was necessary, nearly happened, then didn’t, something I never expected to see happen and it did. My brother has officially been put into care. I commend my mom for caring for him for so long. She gave up 17 years of her life.

It’s always been about him. I was the older sister, the second helper, the other sibling. There is nothing physically wrong with me so I often felt that I wasn’t important. As far as I am concerned I lost my mother when I was seven and I might as well of entered adulthood when I was 12. I wonder if other siblings of special needs children feel the same way I did Ignored, sometimes second class! I find it hard to explain what its like. You’re ignored but your not, you’re there but your not. You hurt because of it. You feel guilty for feeling this way and all at the same time you’re resentful of them, but love them dearly too. Sometimes it depresses you. I never even admitted these feelings most of the time. I don’t blame him for this. Its not his fault I feel the way I do. I love him no matter what.

I am very much interested in writing a book about this for some reason. Not just my experience but others out there too, the invisible ones. Maybe it’s because you always hear about the parents and their special needs child, but I’ve never read a story about their siblings. They are just as much part of the child’s life.

I won’t go into details of why this has happened, only that I know it had too. I surprised myself by being upset by it. I thought I would feel differently about it, but I don’t. I feel guilty, like I am aiding in giving up on a family member, the only family I have known is splitting apart. I still have my other family, but they are all far away. :( I miss my friends. I'll MISS Tony.

My little bro :)

P.S. I’ll never understand life. I just confounds me. I also hate my writing. Its turned to utter crap due to the fact that I have severe writers block.

Comming to terms

Have you ever been to the point in your life where it just doesn’t seem to be going the way you want it too? Then you suddenly realise it may or may not be your entire fault? I’ve gotten to that point. I’m alive, I am existing, but I am not living or happy…that’s pretty much it. So I guess this is where I say I am depressed. I admit it. I wish I could say this started after I left Australia, but I’ve felt this way since I was young. I think I am just coming to terms with it myself now. I am not sure what else to write at the moment…

So I guess what I really want to know is, is there anyone else out there that feels this way? Don't worry nothing will happen.

And now something to cheer this blog post up…I planned to post this upon my return to my native land but I never got around to it…



P.S. I clearly have a bad case of blogarrea or perhaps bloggers block. I apologise for this lack of entry.

Princess Jo!

Princess Jo, the character, the person and the Barbie doll?

It all started two years ago when I found a Barbie doll at a thrift store and for some strange reason decided to buy it. She had long blonde hair and pretty blue eyes. She reminded me of the Barbie in a colouring book that my brothers step mom gave me.

She sat on a shelf in my kitchen with all my other collectables; I wrapped her in a red neck scarf as I had no proper clothes for her. Then two years later while unpacking things I left behind when I went to Australia and I find her amongst the random junk I saved. That still makes no sense to me.

I constantly tried to fix the red scarf not sure how I managed to make her presentable back then. She sat on my bookshelf next to my computer desk. Finally I felt bad for her clothing impairment so I bought her a cheap pink princess like dress at the dollar store. Then I suddenly remembered the character and the person and Princess Jo was born. Princess Jo which of course you know stands for:

Pretty
Radical
Intelligent
Nice
Calligraphic
Eccentric
Silly
Sultry
Jovial
Oddity

As Princess Jo continued to sit near my computer desk, I was sometimes compelled to fiddle with her hair to see if I could make it more presentable. On Christmas Eve, I decorated the dress and hair with beads and buttons to make it more artistic. I was intent on turning her into an artistic piece. Then I was going to give her as a present to my moms special needs friend Erika, but I couldn’t do it. Suddenly this doll had some sort of sentimental value, which sadly had faded some by Christmas morning, but spawned a sudden fascination with my inner child.
Tony gave me a new Myscene Barbie doll, which I named Astrid Viola Morningstory for my brother’s amusement. Astrid was much nicer and prettier than Princess Jo. This caused to be PJ ignored to an extent. Later on Christmas evening Tony insisted I bring Astrid and Princess Jo out to play toys with him. PJ was degraded somewhat. She was forced to go on car rides with “GI Joe-Ken” and was danced around dizzy by Erika, then attacked by my dog Sydney, which supplied much amusement to Tony. Her new dress was damaged by rough handling from more than one party, not just the dog and her hair became out of place causing her to look like a mad woman. She was also accompanied by a broken earring and some lovely teeth mark in her face.

Luckily I restored her to her former glory. I fixed the dress and braided her hair. However, Tony still liked her ,calling her by name and inquiring if he could borrow her. I let him make use of her while he played with his toys. He was tickled pink that I was allowing him to play with something of mine. Sadly some days I would find her half dressed lying under the couch or defiled by my dog or in the process of being eaten by Sydney. I started sitting her on my dresser rather than near my computer because Tony insisted she sit with the other dollies. Despite her mistreatment I still allowed Tony to play with her, occasionally when I joined it I let Sydney in on the play too. He was the scary gromit her ate dollies. It became one of Tony’s favourite games. I didn’t mind any of this I figured she was an old doll so it didn’t really matter, but oddly she was still important.

Sadly Princess Jo’s life as a toy has expired. She ended up on the floor again a couple of evenings ago. I tried to save her from Sydney’s jaws of death and her head ripped off, breaking the piece that holds her head on. Sydney decapitated her because he hated her. THE END! Have I thrown her out yet? Nope she still sits on my dresser except she is holding her head in her pink lap. Suddenly her sentimental value has increased. I guess it’s safe to say that Princess Jo the character and Sydney might not get along either as for the person I have no idea. As for the spot the doll Princess Jo used to sit, I put a photo of the real one instead.

P.S. I started reading The Time Machine :P

Happy New You!

Happy New Year! (Sorry about the lateness...)

My brother says Happy New You! This has got me thinking, is each New Year that arrives is it a time to be a new you, to reinvent yourself?

2009: What does this year hold for me? What adventures and misadventures shall befall me? Well it certainly won’t be like 2008 starting out relatively good, then changing to good byes, stressfulness, frustration and emotional obscurity. It seems to be starting out the exact opposite.

But before I go on about 2009, perhaps I will share some of my insights, highlights and whatever else I can think of about 2008.

Highlights of 2008:

Finally getting a degree! Despite the fact I haven’t actually seen it yet. I hope it hasn’t got lost in the mail.

Going back to Canada. It’s been good, but it has also been a bit rough…

Finally finishing Song of the Superheroes or was that 2007? I know I finished it then but I believe I was still working out the kinks for months after…I can’t remember.

Best quotes of 2008:

“I wonder how old I will be when I am 50.”

This was said at the dinner table with Jim-Lady-Man Person and Sue-Woman, which resulted in Sue-Woman erupting in hysterics. I mean to say to my grandma. “I wonder how old you will be when I am 50.”

“It’s so romantic. I need some rope.”

I randomly said this to Elise-Woman/Lady. She was discussing her crush, which I thought was romantic and I had mentioned my issues with Officer Octogenarian. She told me to get some rope and “rope him in.” Somehow I put the two trains of thought together to make this random Melissaism.

“Someone is having a Barbeque!”

I was watching King Kong with Elise and Sam-Lady. Ironically it was at this very intense moment where the two main characters were going to kiss. I smelt the barbeque outside at the pool the Brazilians where having. I mentioned it at this moment enough said.

Best moments of 2008:

Finally seeing Carol after 2 years. I thought it would be awkward and our friendship was in the pits, but apparently not. In fact it seemed like things were almost better for some reason. Anyways it was awesome seeing her again.

Seeing my brother after 3 years and realising how friggen tall he has gotten!

Worst moments of 2008:

I won’t dwell on those….

2008: Good riddance too you!

I have a feeling 2009 will be better. Therefore I have decided to compile a a list of resolutions or goals for the coming year.

1. Let go of my frustrations and resentment. I keep it in until I explode into
   a) A flaming ball of bitchiness
   b) A red hot glowing Melissa
   c) A scarlety monster.
2. Work on my indecisiveness. Learn to make a decision because I want to make it, not because I want everyone to be happy with it or because I feel responsible to people it may affect. I’ve already done a lot of this to the point it embarrasses me.
3. Move out on my own.
4. Work on my relationship with my mom and brother.
5. Read:
   a) Something random, that I normally wouldn’t read or haven’t heard of.
   b) Something by Charles Dickens. I haven’t decided which book.
   c) Either 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea or Journey To the Centre of the Earth by Jules Verne
   d) The Time Machine by H.G. Wells.
   e) Ulysses by James Joyce
6. Finish Fizzy Lemonade by the end of the year. Maybe work on other stories?
7. Work at trying to get Song of the Superheroes finished.
8. Update my blog at least once or twice a week. I have a goal of 100 posts by 2010. I actually found half written blog entries that were never published. I've let some good ideas drift by too!
9. Get more exercise.
10. Try and save money and pay off debts.
11. De-clutter, donate or get rid of things I don’t need anymore. I’m a bloody pack rat.
12. Find my father and ask him his side of the story.
13. Repair relationships that were damaged.
14. Make new friends

Anyways, I hope I can stick to my very long list of resolutions or at least attempt some of them…

P.S. My fashion sense is just fine Jo! :P