Let’s press some words.

I honestly didn’t intend to neglect this blog for a fortnight, but real life kept getting in the way, the silly thing.

That’s why I didn’t get to tell you about about my being in a production of Urinetown, or finding a great place to work at for my mandatory week of work experience, or about the fancy-pants dinner party my Dad organised (with my help) for 350 people that I got all dressed up for, or the Melbourne time-freeze I attended with a friend.

Instead, I’m going to tell you about the parent-teacher interviews I got back from about half an our ago.

I’m in tenth grade, and this is pretty much the year that I have to start taking school seriously. The subjects I selected this year have an actual impact on my University enter score and, ultimately, my future. So no big deal, right? Right?
The only problem is that, when I compare my reports from over the last three years, it’s pretty clear that my standard of work has deteriorated. I went from being a seventh grader with academic awards and Semester Honours to a tenth grader looking for any excuse to skip class.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been on the student council every year since year eight, and I’m still involved in a lot of different school events. I get along relatively well with a lot of the teachers at the school, and after four years here I get along really well with most of the kids that go to this school as well.

In short: As far as schools go, mine is a pretty good one.

So if school’s a good place to be, then we must conclude that the problem, ladies and gentlemen, lies with me.

I find it increasingly difficult to find any sort of motivation when it comes to my education. To put it simply: I just don’t give a **** anymore. I don’t understand it. If it’s teen angst, I hope it passes quickly because I want nothing to do with it.
I intend to someday get degrees in theology and clinical neurology, but the actual process I need to undergo to reach that point bores me to tears. Tests and assignments are important, I know, but they’re just not INTERESTING. I’d much rather spend my class time talking to friends, or attempting to text someone while cleverly concealing my phone.

That being said, luckily for me, I was fortunate enough to get a good set of teachers for my subjects this year. Not only do I like my teachers but, wonder of wonders, they actually seem to like me too. Despite my casual attitude to education, I’ve managed to maintain above average grades across all subjects.

So I was more than willing to take mum to see these teachers today, and got surprisingly great feedback. The only noteworthy comment I received was from my geography teacher, who described me as a “quiet and concientious student” which made me laugh out loud, but I think I managed to pass it off as a “Thank you for the kind praise” kind of gesture rather than the “Are you kidding? I do nothing BUT talk in your classes!” strain of thought I had actually been following.

It honestly was an overwhelmingly positive series of interviews. The only comment that came close to being negative was from my english teacher, who mentioned that my writing was “good but it could be better”, and that’s not too bad, because I absolutely agree. Improving my writing is one of the things I’m hoping to acheive through this blog. When we got home, I’d earned some major brownie points with mum, which is always nice.

Let’s hope I can keep this up.

Shouting into the vacuum.

Every Monday for the past few weeks, I’ve consistently come online for the sole purpose of finding a new youtube video for the complex, thought provoking fun guaranteed by youtube channel ‘isthistom’; an extension of the riddle site This Is Not Tom (TiNT for short).

I encourage anyone who enjoys puzzles (and has a lot of time on their hands) to visit the site. It’s an addiction I’m in no hurry to break. (For help, visit the unofficial forums).

While the weekly puzzles in themselves are, as far as I’m concerned, nothing short of genius, the most fascinating part about this website is the progressing story that ties it all together. After solving each string of clues, followers are lead to a chapter of a story, which becomes clearer and infinitely more real with each passing week. I’ll avoid going into details of the story here, and suggest you visit the site to find out more.

What I wanted to write about today was the chapter released four weeks ago; which I believe was the sixth instalment of this gripping tale. Specifically, I wanted to point out this section of it:

So, like, imagine some girl who writes in her little unread blog, right? She writes, and no one comments, and she wonders if anyone reads it, and she looks at her site stats and finds that most of the few readers find her on the 37th page of google results for small town kitten or whatever, that her blog is only attracting people obsessively interested in kittens living in small towns, and even though the lack of readership is terribly, oppresively depressing, she keeps blogging. This girl, she can make her voice hearable but cannot make it heard. This sweet little girl – who has friends, who harbours crushes, who worries about homework, who knows that talking without being heard is sadder and more poignant than silence – heroically overfills survey memes with the minutiae of her life. And then I ride these details to the NutraSweet high of feelingreallyfeeling [as we subjects used to say] her life. And only because she continued on shouting to the vacuum.

I wanted to point this out, partially, to give spotlight to the wonderful story written by John Green. (Author of Looking For Alaska, An Abundance of Katherines, and Paper Towns. I bought copies of all three online.) This ongoing story has been described as his latest novel and anyone up-to-date with the TiNT riddles will know what I mean when I say that it’s difficult to know for sure whether this is a work of fiction or if it’s a true story (or maybe even both).

Mainly, though, I wanted to post that passage of his writing on my blog because I’d imagine it rings true to a lot of my potential readers, as it does for me. I’d imagine a lot of you have blogs of your own, and can understand the feeling of talking unheard. And while the lack of readership can at times make me lose the motivation, I intend to continue shouting to the vacuum.

Slowing Down.

My mum and I were watching a Charmed season 3 DVD, because for the first time in a while we’re both home at the same time. We used to watch the show together all the time but haven’t in a few years now, so we were enjoying it. Then dad walks in, decides he doesn’t want to watch Charmed and changes the channel to watch the latest weather reports in LA.

We live in Australia.

I’m a little annoyed.

Anyway, I thought this would be a good time to update this blog since it’s been a few days since my last post. I’ve mostly been spending my holidays sleeping in and catching up with friends. I spent Saturday at friend C’s house, because she planned a dinner party. It was just eight of us there, and the dress code for the night was “Black and white and ties”. There’s nothing better than having eight kids wearing ties, sitting around a dinner table.

We felt kind of old.

We baked cookies, and everyone brought a home cooked meal to add to the table (except for me, because I can’t cook and store-bought lasagne seemed a kinder choice for my friends). After adoring her cat, playing Mario Cart on her Wii, making fools of ourselves on stepmania and scarfing down dinner, we decided we’d like to be outside. It was 9PM. We took a candle, placed it on the pavement and sat around it in a circle, telling ghost stories and trying to scare each other.

Every time a car drove past, we looked up and tried to imagine what the driver thought we were doing. It was good fun.

Anyway, I’m taking a break today and just sitting home, waiting for dad to stop watching the French news and let us watch Charmed again.

He doesn’t speak a word of French.

In 5th grade I wrote a story…

Back when I was in fifth grade, my teacher made each student in the class write a story, which we would then read to one of the Prep kids as a treat (Prep, for anyone wondering, is the ‘preparatory year’ before year one here in Australia).

I wrote (and illustrated) a heart-wrenching story about a lost puppy who had to find his way home. I can’t remember the exact details of the story, but I remember feeling immensely proud. The only problem: I couldn’t think of a title.

My fifth-grade friends were all already finished with their stories and ready to present them! I needed to think quick. And then it came to me. I titled my story: “LOST”.

My bubble was burst, however, when the kids in class saw my title and laughed. I can still hear them taunting me with “‘Lost’?! What a stupid name for a story!” I was crushed.

A year later, Australian television was graced with the first season of hit series “Lost”, which quickly gained a massive following and suddenly, my fifth grade book title didn’t seem stupid anymore .

Birthday Presents.

I’m inherently awful at shopping for birthday presents. It takes me hours of aimless wandering through a large shopping center to decide on one item that the person I’m shopping for might enjoy. These days, I’m usually spared the torture of trying to find the perfect gift, because a group of friends and I have gotten into the habit of pooling our money to get one great present, which the birthday boy or girl is guaranteed to enjoy more than a few small individually bought presents.

It started two years ago when friend A’s birthday was coming up, and we knew she wanted a digital camera though she didn’t dare ask for it. A large group of us chipped in and raised about $200, bought a great camera in red (her favourite colour), and surprised her with it on her birthday.

Since then, we’ve surprised friends with iPods, Jewellery, Phones, and even tickets to the Australian Open.
Whenever we know a friend wants something, we make every effort to get it for them, regardless of price.
It sounds like a lot, but having 20 – 30 people chipping in $5 – $10 dollars a couple of times a year to make good friends happy isn’t nearly as hard on the wallet as it might sound.

Today, friend C, friend R and I met up at the local shopping center to buy friend T, whose birthday is coming up, some colourful jewellery we knew she’d really enjoy.

It ended up taking us almost 3 and a half hours, because we stopped to buy ourselves ice-cream cones at the food court, and ran into a few friends we stopped to talk to (and one teacher we tried to avoid). Stopping to try on bizzarre glasses and hats might also have added to how long we took, but it’s hard to say for sure.

Holidays!

Today’s the first day of my school holidays. Term one flew by ridiculously fast, but I got really tired of it really quickly. I’m having trouble looking forward to a two week break because when I think about it, I have a stack of holiday homework to do and I’ll be back at school again before I know it. I know, I know. I’m being way too optimistic.

I was planning to do something with friends A and N today, but friend A had to go to work at the last minute, so we calld it off. I’ve been at home watching re runs of That 70’s Show instead.

Two friends who I get together with a couple of time every holidays, C and K, are both unavailable for the next two weeks. C will be in Canberra, and K will be in Adelaide.

So I’m trying to plan something with friends R, T, Y and H. We thought we might go to the city to watch a movie and kill time. A few other friends have their birthday’s coming up, so I thought I might visit them. I’d tell you their initials too, but I’ve already used an unnecessary amount of them already and if I’m getting confused, I can only imagine what you’re going through.

I apologize for putting you through that ordeal.

What are you afraid of?

A few days ago I was talking to a friend who has an irrational fear of Coca Cola. Yes, the drink. Apparently she can’t stand the beverage being anywhere near her, and will walk out of a room if someone around her is drinking it. Once, someone tried to get her to drink a glass and it almost made her cry. She could offer no explanation.

One of my best friends is deathly afraid of anything touching her shoulders. We can’t lean on her or give her a pat on the shoulder as we would with anyone else, and massages are completely out of the question. She recently admitted that she doesn’t like the feel of her own clothes on her shoulders, either. Get too close, and she quite literally turns around to attack the fool who dared make contact. However, she’s more than happy to give anybody a hug. The rest of us are baffled.

My mother has a ridiculous fear of having her two children kidnapped. There’s absolutely no particular reason as to why anyone would want to kidnap us. It woud be a difficult thing to do, especially considering the fact that we’re both taller than most people in our age groups, and certainly taller than our mum. Still, when she leaves us home alone she insists on calling every half hour to make sure we’re still alive. If we leave the phone ringing too long or don’t get to the phone in time and miss the call entirely, she’ll come speeding home. (Once, she woke up early in the morning to find the front door hadn’t been locked properly the night before. She came running to my room to make sure I was still there).

I’m afraid of people coming near the front of my neck. Even if it’s someone I trust completely, and have known my entire life, I’m afraid if they get too close they’ll strangle me. I’m going to attribute that fear to watching one too many slasher movies.

What are you afraid of?

Who are you?

We blog to explore our insecurities. In any case, I know I do.

And I’m referring to the people who blog about their days, or blog regularly without any specific purpose under the cloak of anonimity, like myself. The internet, when no one knows you, is a safe place to experiment.

People insecure about their appearance may post photoshopped pictures of themselves, because they need to hear positive comments. People who are shy in real life are suddenly confident online and gather fans (I’m not suggesting that everyone with fans online is shy in real life, but I’d say a good portion would be). I don’t think I need to go into detail on the other ways people experiment online. As for me, well, if I’m being honest, lately I’ve been using this blog as a medium to diplay my writing, because it’s one of the few things I know I’m good at (for my age group, in any case), and it feels great to be complimented. Especially by strangers, who are under no obligation whatsoever to be nice.

That may be why I haven’t advertised this blog to anyone I know. The unbiased opinion of a stranger on whatever thoughts I feel like posting here is more interesting than that of a loved one.

I try to treat people I meet online with as much respect as I do the people I meet in real life, but I can’t help but act different on the interent. For starters, the way I write isn’t even remotely like the way I speak. As a fifteen year old girl, I use slang, I swear, I abbreviate my words and I try to avoid long sentences. I’m loud, I sing, I occassionally make ‘crude’ jokes. It’s impossible to know for sure how other people see you, but I’d say most of the people who run in the same circles as me see me as an entertainer. On more than one occassion, I’ve had friends introduce me to someone as “the funny one I was talking about”. On the internet, I’m rarely funny, if at all. On the internet, there’s no one to impress. On the internet, there’s no real reason to try.

What I want to know is: Are you the same peron online as you are in real life?
If someone who knew you in real life stumbled upon one of your blogs, or anything you’ve written online, would they be surprised to find that it was you who wrote it?
Do you treat strangers on the internet the same way you treat strangers in real life?

I’m curious about your responses to this.