i am now found here:

[link]

sometimes it's nice to meet someone when you're drunk. because all these little details about them come to mind in the days that follow. it's like cleaning out your room and coming across the trinkets that remind you of a poignant moment from when you were much smaller, and the memory is retrieved but it needs to be recorded before it fades away.

that's where this journal comes in.

today i remembered another term he used to describe his writing - sci fi - and it pleased me so that now every male "writer" i know doesn't cut his hair and writes some form of deviated sci fi. because he pigeonholed me and i felt inadequate because i couldn't do it back. and yet the reason i am besotted by him is because he got my nutshell so inexplicably correct. i understand my infatuation because i know that people want to be gotten, and you never really feel 'gotten' by someone who idolises you, unless you think you're fantastic. i stopped seeing someone largely because he told me he didn't understand why my ex-boyfriend spouted shit about polygamy to me all the time, as what else could he have wanted apart from me.

i don't feel that i can fulfil anyone's needs completely and thus this man did not GET me. he could compliment and adore me, but he put me on a pedestal that i found misleading and uncomfortable. so i stopped seeing him.

one of my friends thinks i have battered wife syndrome.

i'm at uni, watching lectures that it is taking 2.5x longer to sit through than their actual lengths. i get distracted too easily. i've spent weeks trying not to forget all the things i have to do, and now that i'm doing something i HAVE to do, they're all springing to mind.

there are two other people in the room, and both have been here at least as long as i have. surely this isn't what education is about - proving you have enough "motivation" to sit at a screen for hours at a time regurgitating information and making sure your commas are in the right places according to APA guidelines. all these fucking rules.

i've been bitter lately. my life is now revolving around my jobs (one of which i finally quit today - on the up and up? maybe) and i never wanted it to. i am in a constant state of confusion as to why i am working so hard, as money has never been a particularly dominant factor in my life. as long as i have enough (or my parents are giving me enough), it's never played a huge role.

the other part is that my boyfriend is being deported. and when i say boyfriend, i mean the figure that has completely adopted the role of a boyfriend and isn't sleeping with anyone else and is happy about all these things, and still does not want to be called a boyfriend. but only when we have long and circular discussions about it. he has called me a girlfriend at least twice in the past 72 hours, but i'm sure he would say it's only for the sake of functionality. and being tagged with a label is perhaps even less important to me than being in a state of financial wellbeing.

anyway, he's being deported just so he can come back in a few months time. bureaucracy is a system not founded on logic. these debacles are making me use phrases like "little men in suits" and "working for the man" - phrases i never thought i would say except when quoting steven hyde.

i'm getting all angsty on myself, but this is far more conducive to writing. as evidenced by this journal.

cuba was great. i like the boy. la la la.

nope, just not that riveting. at least not right now. maybe there'll be a time and a place.

but right now, there is dinner to eat and a test to study for awaiting me.

peace out

it's not random -

Pretend that everybody who reads your journal is reading about you for the first time. Write a passage, including basic facts and fun random facts, so that everyone can get to know you and understand your normal journals which might discuss subjects that are confusing if you don't know the history -


i was born into what i would find out almost 19 years later was a communist country. at the age of two, my parents and i moved to australia - a country my relatives would relentlessly bitch about the distance of. it was on one of these flights on their journey to the sunburnt country that i would be upgraded to first class. naturally, i cannot remember this.

my childhood was largely unremarkable. my mum worked full time while my dad was the stay-at-home parent, something i would often mention during my women's studies tutorials at uni. i liked the colour purple and was crazy good at spelling. i made friends i would keep for at least the next 10 years (and counting), including ~RohanElf. we (eventually) bonded over our love of furbies. i fell in love with heath ledger and made her watch all his movies with me, even the ones he was only in for a couple of minutes. i was always a night owl, unable to fall asleep before midnight at best, and would always borrow the maximum number of books allowed from the library.

i got a scholarship to a fairly prestigious private school and, completely unrelated to this, became a vegetarian. a dermatologist i found a bit creepy cleared my skin up and i got contact lenses. 12 was the age at which i last wore my natural hair colour (it's brown, but it's a crap dark mousy brown). in year 8, i went out with someone who liked the red hot chili peppers, a fact i can probably credit with my resulting markedly better taste in music.

i went on exchange to france for six months, learnt french and consequently tuned out of every french lesson i would have for the remainder of high school. i got back and wound up spending six hours in my friend's brother's room at her party, sparking something that would continue in some capacity for the better part of the few years following. i started to write a lot more, but would later perceive this era of poetry as bad to the point of embarrassing. i made new friends because a guy who is now one of my nearest and dearest developed a crush on me, but kept the old ones too. i was periodically addicted to caffeine and finished school with a wicked score at the end of it, though the pressure i put on myself to do it hardly made it a worthwhile endeavour. at my graduation, i was sorry i hadn't enjoyed high school more but didn't feel a shred of sadness at the thought of leaving this environment.

i started a psych degree before i deferred to go overseas for four months. i put on eight kilos and lost almost all of them again during my two weeks as a vegan. i stopped watching free-to-air because i couldn't work out how to turn my tv on. i eventually figured it out but had lost interest by then.

i was accepted into creative writing and moved into ana's house for a few days to think about what i wanted to do without my parents breathing down my neck. i had a cigarette on new years, even though my brief stint of social smoking had ended some weeks earlier, because the events of the previous 24 hours warranted it. danielle, a lovely texan i met in rome, came to australia and we embarked on a road trip around my home country, spending significant periods of time gushing about justin timberlake. i read a pamphlet titled 'so you think you can be a meat-eating environmentalist?' while in tasmania and because of my resulting fear of global warming, decided to give veganism another shot. after we leave katrina's house that is, so as to not drive her mother insane with my dietary requests.

and right now I am sitting in ~RohanElf's house, listening to 'morning yearning' on repeat play. i wear nine rings and find shaving my legs and washing my hair to be an unfortunately necessary hassle. i have big plans for travel and no job to fund them with as i don't want to sit still for long enough to give someone reason to employ me. i now spend money on music festivals and books rather than magazines and clothes. my band is ana, tiny, gems and me, though the sexiest redhead I know is moving interstate and "breaking up the band yoko". i still haven't finished harry potter 7. i like that i have a birthmark in my eye and i think my clavicle is pretty sexy. i don't take sugar in my coffee and pancakes are my favourite. i have a solid argument as to why batman is better than spiderman.

i cannot think of a resounding note to end this thing on.




i don't know if I can be bothered with deviantart anymore. ever since my writing became less angsty and more...good, pretty much no one reads it and i can't get the criticism i want and need. admittedly, my interest in browsing others' galleries has also dwindled. but i do like having this mini-chronicle of my life and being able to selectively express things i can't say to people who are important to me, which is why i may keep using it. but my tagger insisted i post this before i decide to bail, and i like her too much to ignore the request.

"There we understood that our vocation, our true vocation, was to move for eternity along the roads and seas of the world. Always curious, looking into everything that came before our eyes, sniffing out each corner but only ever faintly - not setting down roots in any land or staying long enough to see the substratum of things; the outer limits would suffice."

-Ernesto Che Guevara
The Motorcycle Diaries

I booked my tickets to Cuba, Buenos Aires and Santiago. I'll probably make it over to Montevideo too. Exactly one month and one day after my return home it took for me to have concrete plans for my next trip. All this movement is a relief.

I submitted my portfolio a week ago and then realised I don't want to go back to psych. I can't spend a year doing nothing (although I've told Gemma that we can bail on the uni/work/her-moving-interstate thing and just take off to Europe if she wants; I don't know how seriously she took me, but I'd do it with little consideration) but there's nothing else I really want to do. I've considered English teaching (high school environments just aren't for me, regardless of my position within them), international studies (seems too foreign-affairs/politics related and I'd prefer my role in that to remain limited to voting and expressing my thoughts on the shortcomings of the government) and journalism (media is always self-interested, and i've read 1984, so i'd feel a part of major propaganda). In short, it's writing or nothing, because if it's not writing, it's not going to be what I want anyway.

Who said people are hard to please?

Step 1) find out if I get into creative writing
Step 2a) do creative writing
Step 2b) think of a step 3