On teenagers and parenting.

I APOLOGIZE PROFUSELY FOR THE FOLLOWING WORDS.
It’s all rubbishy, self-indulgent teenage blather, stretched out to a wall of text, but this blog is my only outlet and I can’t help myself.

I spent this morning watching movies (The Goonies, The Kite Runner, The Princess Bride) with two of my closer friends, who spontaneously decided to come over. The abruptness normally isn’t an issue. My parents are pretty awesome sometimes, and have made it clear to me and my brother that friends are welcome any time. My friends take full advantage of our open door policy, and nobody minds.

Except, well, today, for the first time, I minded.

Friend ‘R’ got kicked out of her house for a night last week because she got caught with a boy her parents didn’t approve of. My parents, brilliant people that they are, spoke to her parents and told her she was welcome to stay at our house for the night.

But this friend, she got caught for the FOURTH time in five months. She’s gotten in so much trouble, she’s been grounded, been stripped of all privileges, and she’s even been offered counselling by the school. Every time she gets caught, she says “That idiot. I’m gonna beak up with him. He’s not worth the trouble” but after about a week she goes back to sneaking around with him. Last week she got KICKED OUT OF HER HOME which is a BIG deal, even if she doesn’t seem to think so. But none of the punishments are sticking, and I have no idea why this boy has such a strong hold on her but she insists on making stupid decisions for him. I’ve never met the guy (which is enough to make me worry), but I don’t like him at all. I’ve spent weeks actively discouraging her but, at the end of the day, it’s her call and she’s chosen to ignore the advice of almost all of her friends and family.

Today, while she was here, she asked to use my phone to talk to this boy because she has no phone of her own. I could hardly say no. So I listened while this boy had the nerve to try and convince her to ditch a VCE seminar that she had later in the day and to meet up with him instead, and was shocked to see that she almost agreed. Almost. It was enough to make me want to snatch the phone and swear at him. Self restraint was practiced.

My other friend was worrying me too, though to a lesser extent. Friend ‘C’ spent a little while using my mobile to text HER significant other, because she doesn’t have a phone either. About a month ago, during the school holidays, her parents caught this boy sneaking in through her window in the middle of the night and, well, a major grounding was had. It wasn’t as bad for her as it was for Friend ‘R’ but, you know, it was still pretty bad.

To make matters worse, I know this guy really well. I’ve spent a lot of time with him this year, we go to a lot of the same parties and I can honestly say that, while the guy’s a good friend, I know him well enough to realise that I don’t trust him at all. Especially not with one of my closest friends. He’s cheated on her before and, while I keep an eye on him at parties these days, he does get awfully close to other girls. I don’t think he can help himself. If that’s not enough, he’s leaving the country permanently come December and Friend ‘C’ is setting herself up for a whole lot of hurt. I’ve told her this many times, but it’s just not getting through to her. Urgh.

So this morning I was sitting with these two girls, who I’ve known since they wore piggy tails in grade school, thinking about how ridiculous they both are. I mean, the kids at school come to me with their problems because I have a track record for taking care of friends without judging. I’ve NEVER, in all my years, been in a fight with a friend because I keep a pretty open mind and can talk to people on subjects that we might totally disagree on. Hell, for the last four years, my nickname at school has been ‘mum’ and frankly, I think it’s pretty fitting. But today, when it came to these two, I couldn’t help but judge. There’s just a little voice in my head screaming “what the hell is wrong with them?”

My parents are a LOT more flexible than theirs. I’m allowed a mobile, I’m allowed to go out, I’ve got my own laptop to do whatever I want, whenever I want, I’m allowed to get a job and make decisions for myself on almost every account. If I came home and announced to the family that I had a boyfriend, my parents wouldn’t exactly do a happy dance but I don’t think they’d try to stop me either. They trust me to make my own choices, under the condition that I continue to do well in school. I mean, they can be a bit protective at times but they’re also incredibly supportive.

As a result, I don’t think I’ve ever lied to my parents about my life. If they want to know about my grades, my love life or whatever, I answer honestly, because their trust is important.

I’ve never been grounded because I respect my parents too much to give them cause.

Alternatively, Friends ‘C’ and ‘R’ have incredibly strict parents. I know that it comes from a good place, that they’re just trying to protect their kids, but my friends can’t see it from their parents’ point of view. They see “You can’t have a boyfriend” as a reason to get boyfriends. They see “You must not drink” as a command to get tipsy at parties. They see “You can’t leave the house” as an excuse to sneak over to my place on Saturday mornings.

And the worst part is, so far as I can tell, that they lie to their parents through their teeth.

I know that our mutual friend, ‘K’, got so fed up with ‘C’ and ‘R’s continuously bad decisions that she now refuses to speak to either of them. She’s done with trying to make them see sense, and decided that she doesn’t need their drama. I’ve spoken to other friends who are getting tired of this behaviour as well.

Today, I was tempted to follow ‘K’s example. Sometimes I think that they’re a bad influence on me, and I don’t need their issues to worry about, you know? But then I think that they might need me to stick around and be a positive influence on them. Even though they’ve completely ignored my advice, their poor choices will have consequences. If and when their respective situations come back to bite them in the butt, they’re going to need support. I mean, if either of them gets kicked out again, I live nearby and my parents are more than willing to take them in. I’m one of the few people willing to offer them an ear or a shoulder to lean on. I’m not trying to facilitate their bad behaviour, but they’re going to need me on their side and I don’t think I could just abandon them.

This whole morning I was thinking about how crazy it all is. We’re all fifteen year olds. They shouldn’t have to be dealing with any of this.

And even though I’m really worried about these friends, I’m self-centred enough to just be feeling really lucky right now. I’m so glad I have the family that I have, you know? While my friends run around lying to their parents and counting the days till they can move out, I was was sitting at home talking to my mum about all of this.

When I was finished talking, mum just gave me a huge hug and said “I’m so proud of you”.

Your children will be illiterate.

It’s 12:20 AM and I just got back from another party, but this one was really tame so I did enjoy it. I tend to prefer these alcohol-free parties because these kids are a lot more interesting when sober (albeit they can be hilarious when drunk). I spent the better part of four hours just talking and arguing about books (the title of this post being an insult aimed at one my more grammatically attuned friends) and movies, which is always nice. Still, I somehow managed to slide off into a ‘quiet corner’ with all the other kids who find music a suitable substitute for conversation and, as per usual, was about as engaged and active as a young cactus plant.
It was alright, though, since my throat’s been so sore all day that my voice sounds like a freshly squeezed panda (what?), and my lack of conversation probably came as a blessing.

It’s closing in on 12:30 in the morning and I’m impressed by my own ability to form coherent sentences.

I’m still sick, I’m still thinking, I’m still stunned. I won’t go into again, though.

Once again, I’m feeling too tired to go to sleep, you know?

Hope you’re all well.

Midnight Ramblings.

THIS IS SO BIZARRE. I really want to write but I’ve got very little to say and anything I DO write seems to come out all wrong and jumbled up, if know you I mean what. [That's "If you know what I mean", for anyone playing at home.]

So yesterday I went to a party, only not really because it was just a bunch of us hanging out at a friend’s house. And by “bunch”, I mean, like, seven of us playing playstation and stalking.. er.. observing people on facebook. I admit, the playstation part was mostly left up to the guys while the stalking was covered by us gals. I’m not too keen on the tweetmyface networking website phenomenomenon (say it out loud, it sounds like a pokemon!) but surreptitiously following the online activity of distant friends is surprisingly entertaining.

I spent the better part of my morning today reading Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, which is a pity, since I wanted to try and finish the entire series in two weeks, which leaves me two days to read the last two books but I won’t be home to read them this weekend thanks to the ruddy tulips which leaves me with a real time-related dilemma.

Oh dear, I was going to elaborate on my Potter-related goals, but that last sentence was so awfully structured that I’m going to have to change the topic as a sign of respect for the English language.

Still, I’m only about a sixth of the way through this, the longest Harry Potter book, so far. (200 pages and he still hasn’t been to Hogwarts?!). It didn’t help that I went to another party tonight. But I’m glad I did because this was the good kind of alcohol-free party I enjoy. I’M A STRAIGHT EDGE KID AND PROUD, DAMMIT! I got to catch up with a lot of people I haven’t seen over the last two weeks, and I laughed a lot a lot a lot.

There was this lovely moment when this lovely eighteen-year-old friend I don’t see very often completely blind-sighted me with wonderful compliments about my sense of humour and “you’re honestly one of the most beautiful people I know” and I tried to run away from the sheer unexpectedness of it when other friends cottoned on and started (literally) bowing down to me until all I could do was laugh and I don’t know where it came from but those lovely individuals completely made my week.

After the numbers started dwindling a couple of hours into the party, like, six of us decided to break away from the main singingdancinglaughing group and sit in a deserted corridor by ourselves to just talk and listen to music. Laughs were had, banter was exchanged, movies were discussed and the songs on my iPod were looked down upon by the musical elitists amongst us. (Metro Station is a guilty pleasure, I refuse to be judged for it!)

But I just got home feeling too tired to rest (if you know what I mean), and wanting to type anything, everything up because I’ve grown to enjoy the taptaptap of my fingers on the keyboard and even creating incoherent combinations of letters like afdjfhdjnasijd is music to my tired ears.

I honest to goodness haven’t done a scrap of homework/anything remotely productive over the last fortnight. I won’t be home for this final holiday weekend. I’m kind of almost dreading school on Monday, because I’ve done so poorly in maths that mum’s started me on tuition for Mondays and I’ve done no revision and I don’t know what kind of impression I’m going to make on my tutor. Maybe I’ll bake cookies for her. A way to a woman’s heart IS through her stomach (she says, the aspiring medical practitioner to the shock of surgeons everywhere).

I’m going to try and read myself to sleep since I have an early morning tomorrow (no, it’s 12.30AM so I have an early morning TODAY), because the family’s driving up to some suburb whose name I can’t pronounce to see the tulip festival. We’re going to spend the weekend in this indecipherable suburb, apparently, even though I can’t imagine it being very comfortable or entertaining in a small holiday apartment with my whole family squished into place but maybe I should stop being so pessimistic and be excited for the flowers.

Next time I post, my ideas will make sense and my sentences will be structured and I’ll put more thought into it than this. Promise.

I’m excited for the flowers.

Stay safe.

IT’S IMPERATIVE YOU READ THIS.

Crucial information regarding the health and well-being of frequent internet users was reported only moments ago, during…

Oh, stuff it.
Now I feel guilty for misleading unsuspecting readers with my false promises.
Honestly, you won’t find anything on this blog that’s in any way beneficial to you (although teenage narcissism has been known to reduce wrinkles), so I promise I won’t be offended if you choose this moment to create a more intimate relationship with the red ‘X’ button on the top right-hand corner of your screen, and pass your time more productively – perhaps by climbing a tree or staring blankly into space.

So I just got back from a birthday party where I spent the better part of three hours sitting awkwardly with a group of people I don’t know well enough to engage in deep conversation with.
Did I mention it was awkward?
I displayed about as much charisma and camaraderie as an enraged, undead rhinoceros suffering from severe halitosis.

I don’t know. I suppose I should have made more of an effort to join in with the group of thirty or so people running around with footballs, but it was so much easier to just sit at the edge of the small circle who opted not to play grid iron, and to smile and nod like an (anthropomorphic) sack of potatoes at any time they referred to me.

I’m not generally anti-social, in fact I’m quite the extrovert within my usual network, but I felt so withdrawn today. The people at the party weren’t STRANGERS, I’ve been going to school with most of them for at least four years. They’re just part of an entirely different social circle, and at times I had trouble remembering why I’d agreed to come to the party at all. They all seem like lovely individuals, just, you know.

WHY HELLO, ANTHILL. YOU APPEAR TO HAVE BECOME A MOUNTAIN.

While we’re on the topic of mountains, I currently feel an overwhelming need to write, draw, bellydance or in some way unleash my creativity. Unfortunately, my recent demonstration of misanthropy appears to have frightened away my Muse, and much like good conversation skills, inspiration evades me.

With that sobering thought, I’m going to step away slowly from the computer and grace the family-unit with my fifteen-year-old presence in order to enjoy dinner while entertaining the possibility that my waist-high pile of homework due soon will be kind enough to complete itself during my absence.

Goodnight.

I am NOT a GANGSTER.

I can’t imagine any one label that suits me LESS than ‘gangster’. The irony of it is, if ONE more person labels me as a gangster I’m liable to agree, then cause them serious bodily harm.

This morning, some friends and I were walking to class when we crossed paths with a group of Year Eight kids. Our two groups were going in opposite directions in a narrow corridor, and the moment we walked past, the first thing we heard was their exclamations of “Wow, that girl walks so gangster!”

This wasn’t the first time it’s happened.

I’m AWARE of the way I sway from side to side as I walk. It’s not intentional. I’m trying to stop. It does NOT mean I’m going to steal your wallet, proposition your mother or otherwise partake in acts of delinquency.

It doesn’t help that I tend to dress almost exclusively in baggy jeans and heavy jackets. I’m not trying to make a statement. I’m not trying to fit in with any particular crowd. I just like feeling COMFORTABLE.

I just got back from being a student helper at my school’s open night. I stood at the door handing out maps to parents, and offering guides and tours to anyone that needed it. I made a concious effort to maintain a decent posture, and tidied up my school uniform. It was boring, but both parents and teachers seemed to feel comfortable with coming up and talking to me.

On weekends, though, when I’m out with friends, my inherently terrible posture combined with my decidedly dishevelled sense of dress seem to act as a giant DO NOT DISTURB sign pinned to my back.

It’s annoying. Whinge, whine, moan.

I’m done.

“With a great big hug and a kiss from me to you…

…won’t you say you love me too?”

Upon closer review, it appears that Barney was quite a needy dinosaur. Perhaps it’s for the best that we distanced ourselves before the situation escalated.

So, it turns out that I caught a virus last weekend, and I had a temperature last night. I’m fairly sure it’s some strain of swine flu, considering how prominent it is in the area these days. It’s not hugely different to any other flu, though, so I’ve got no worries.

Still, I went to sleep early last night feeling terrible, so dad decided to let me sleep in this morning and told me it was okay if I wanted to skip school. On any other day, this would have been fantastic, but today my attendance at school was imperative.

After waking up an hour later than I should’ve, haphazardly throwing my uniform on, running to school and stumbling into my second period class, I was greeted with exclamations of “Where were you this morning?”, “You don’t look so good” and, my personal favourite, “Why are your eyes SO droopy?”.

I spent the course of the day working on assignments, worrying about, then completing, a maths test, scratching my bewildered head at all the notes on the board for physics, attending school council meetings and desperately trying to catch up with all the coursework I’d missed last week; all the while resisting the overwhelming urge to tell my teachers to bugger off and let me sleep.

And as if my academic endeavours weren’t enough to keep me busy, my friends’ social lives certainly did the trick.

A good friend of mine was recently caught consorting with a boy from another school who her parents severely disapprove of. Long story short, I’ve now found myself in the middle of their situation and spent my lunch break fielding phone calls from the guy and relaying messages to my exasperated friend.

By the end of the school day all I could think of was going home to sleep. Dad usually picks me up from school on Tuesdays, but he happened to be attending a funeral today so I walked home with a few friends who live in my area. After talking through their worries with them and finally arriving at home, I was denied the right to rest by yet another phone call from yet another friend.

This particular phone call was distressing and I shouldn’tcan’twon’t go into detail about it. I just find myself feeling increasingly worried about this friend who seems increasingly intent on doing increasingly worrying things and I’m stoppingstoppingstopping because I don’t want to think about this right now.

I’m running off to pour myself a glass of orange juice and settle down in front of the TV to watch a Spongebob Squarepants marathon on Nickelodeon.

I can haz childhood bak pl0x?

Delinquenisms.

I’ve decided to title all posts which detail acts of juvenile delinquency as “Delinquenisms”, since it seems wholly appropriate.

So, every now and then I experience something which reminds me that, underneath the fancy words and misconcieved notions of maturity, I am still just a teenager.
Today was the first day of our school holidays, and I spent it at a friend’s house. It was his sixteenth birthday, and he’d invited a random assortment of characters both from our school and neighbouring schools. They were all a cool group of people though, and all had a good sense of humour.
The first thing we did as a group was to walk down to the nearby park, where some of us played football and chased away the joggers on the track while others vandalised the bleachers. From there, we went to the children’s playground and crowded the top of the Rope Tower; as the name suggests, it’s a tower of rope we needed to climb. Of course, we were the only ones on the tower since parents steered clear of us, and the kids seemed frightenend. (For the record, I didn’t condone the scaring of children. Anyone who read my post from yesterday will know that I love kids. But I digress.)
After everyone was at the top of the tower, looking over the heads of the crowd, some of the girls decided that the guys in our group ought to play a game of Gay Chicken. (For those of you playing at home, that’s when two heterosexual males put themselves in increasingly awkward positions until one of the pair feels too uncomfortable and chickens out). It was entertaining, to say the least.
The day passed with most of the group going down to the skate park, running down to the creek, and being generally annoying in public places. Later, while the group went on a bike ride, my friend “C” and I separated ourselves from the group to go for a walk around the neighbourhood.

While we were alone, “C” revealed a few things to me about our mutual friend “L” that had me momentarily too stunned for words.

To cut a long story short: “L” is a wonderful girl, who I’ve considered a good friend for the last five years. She’s almost sixteen (in fact, I believe her sixteenth birthday is tomorrow). Since last September, I’ve been aware of her relationship with a boy who is, well, older than sixteen (by three years, if I’m not mistaken). While I couldn’t approve her choice, I’d known her well since grade school, and decided to shut my mouth and trust her judgement.

“C” informed me today that “L” and her boyfriend had been, to put it lightly, doing “more than just holding hands” over the last six months and, apparently, she recently found out that the boyfriend had been doing “more than just holding hands” with more than one girl. The resulting break-up happened about a week ago, and “B” has been in a bad state ever since. Before I had time to process this news, “C” proceeded to put the cherry on this espial sundae. Apparently, in a moment of depressed vulnerability, “L” had… uh… propositioned our friend “H”. (The term ‘proposition’ here meaning an improper suggestion, to say the least).

“H” refused on the grounds of being in a relationship with “C”.

In hindsight, the last few paragraphs look embarrassingly like a gossip column, and drained some of my hard earned self-respect. The point of it all was just that, today, for the umpteenth time this week, I thought about how very little I know my friends and how very little they probably know me. I find it curious, and truth be told, frightening.

Anyway, after all the gossip subsided and we rejoined the group, it had gotten dark and we played murder in the dark in the park, using the night vision goggles we had all chipped in to buy for the birthday boy. We listened to music, ate, drank, pummelled a spongebob-shaped pinata and around 7.00 I headed back home.

The party was fun, but it gave me a lot to think about.

I’m in a weird, reflective sort of mood at the moment, guys.
I’ll spare you the torture of reading through my muddled thoughts in the form of poorly constructed sentences by finishing my post here.

Goodnight, and happy holidays.

“Does anyone here watch Gossip Girl?”

I was startled back to conciousness in yesterday’s English class by this most unfamiliar inquiry. ‘Unfamiliar’ because we never discuss current television in English class, ‘back to conciousness’ because I was on the verge of dozing off and ’startling’ because the question was posed by my forty-something year old english teacher.

However, that initial shock was dwarfed upon hearing him declare the three words: “Blaire’s a BITCH!”
It was terrific.

I only bring it up because my 1&2 Literature class (Is it any surprise that I enjoy English-based subjects?) went on an excursion today to see a low-budget version of the play ‘Antigone’ performed by a cast of seven in a tiny school room. The play itself was impressive, yes, but it’s the gossip in which I was engaged during the bus ride back home I wanted to discuss.

The conversation started innocently enough. A group of us talked about movies, friends, the goings-on at school and other generic fifteen-year-old subject matter until ‘Penelope’, with a terribly perplexed expression, called out: “Hey, are ‘Bonny’ and ‘Clyde’ going out?”
(In this case, ‘Clyde’ being a friend I’ve spent a considerable amount of time with over the last six months and ‘Bonny’ being one of my best friends since fifth grade.)
The truth of the matter is that they celebrated their one month anniversary last week, but ‘Bonny’ was reluctant to announce the relationship to the whole schoolyard. Still, I was under the mistaken impression that the cat was already out of the bag, since this brand of information doesn’t generally take long for most high school students to uncover, but apparently it’s this month’s best kept secret.
So, I covered up for them brilliantly with a nonchalant shrug of the shoulders which fooled everyone into believing that Bonny and Clyde were just close friends. (Yes, it really was one hell of a shrug, but I suppose you had to be there.)

Once that was dealt with, we moved on to reminisce on failed relationships we’d witnessed over the years, from the week-long, hair-flipping hand-holding embarrassments from seventh grade to the more substantial year-long affinities we’ve grown accustomed to.

We talked about the “random hook-ups”, the two girls in our year who “got together” during last year’s formal purely for the shock value, the friends who got smashed (wasted, plastered, buzzed; so many options) at another friend’s sweet sixteenth last weekend and the general drug-culture that covertly exists deep beneath the surface of our year level (or in any case, deep enough to maintain our school’s spotless reputation and warrant half-truths during family conversations).

It got me thinking about how very little I really know about these people; this group of three-hundred-odd kids I’m spending my formative years with, the people whose birthday parties I’ve attended since grade school, the network that forms almost 90% of my Facebook friends list.

Strange as it sounds, I realised that I don’t actually recognise my peers as human beings, because I tend to categorise them according to their predominant interests. I don’t think of them as having complex levels. I don’t consider the possibility that they might be just as deep, if not deeper, than I am. I dismiss them as being just one label. (Except, of course, for my closer group of friends who I speak to on a daily basis. I know them well enough to dismiss them as eight or nine different labels.)

‘Terry’s the athlete. Let’s get him something sporty for his birthday.
‘Mary’s the girly-girl. Let’s get her make-up for her birthday.
‘Lilly’s the drugged-up boozehound who smokes in the bathroom. Let’s steer clear of her on her birthday.

It would never occur to me that while Terry’s athletic, he might not be as interested in sport as he appears to be. Maybe he’s just self-concious and keeping up appearances. Maybe his greatest interest is art. Maybe he’s secretly got a notebook full of intricate sketches and heartfelt poetry that no one will ever see.

It seems impossible to believe that while Mary’s the classic girly-girl, she might dream of joining the military and following her brother’s example. Maybe she spent years learning martial arts on weekends. Maybe the girly-girl personality is a front to cover up a side she’s afraid won’t be accepted.

Perhaps there’s more to Lilly than the inconsiderate rebel. Maybe she’s got problems at home. Maybe her self-destructive behaviour is a cry for help. Maybe she dreams of growing up to be a veterenarian.

I spent the remainder of my day following this realisation trying to imagine everyone – friends, acquaintances, strangers – as complete and whole human beings with lives of their own.
In short, my epiphany of the day was simply that while I’m the center of my own universe, I am not the center of THE universe.

Astonishing revelation, really.

And it appears that this entry has taken a completely unexpected turn. This is not what I set out to write about. Apparently I’ve again turned my blog into an incomprehensibly gratuitous soiree, full of self-obsessed digressions and again, I’m going to use my age as an excuse if you’ll forgive the predictability.

My next post will be about a more consequential topic.
Honest.

It’s possible to lead a cow upstairs…

…but not downstairs.

A fascinating fact divulged to me by the unquestionable wisdom of the internet.

Now, this isn’t something I’d normally say, but today I’m going to advice any readers to follow this divine, bovine example. I think we should all be more like cows. That’s not to say that I advice people to attempt sticking their tongues up their own noses, or to produce sixty-five pounds of feaces a day. I just think that cows send us a terrific message about not allowing anyone to lead us down the proverbial stairs.

Of course, the only reason cows can’t walk down stairs is because their knees can’t bend properly and any further analysis of my metaphor will prove its complete inefficiency, so we’ll move right along and ignore the fact that I know more about cows than any normal teenager should.

So it’s been a month and two days since I last updated this blog, and if I know my readers (and I think I do), I’d say that none of you are the least bit interested in what I’ve been up to over the last four and a half weeks. Luckily for you, I’m far too lazy to try and fill you in, so I’ll try to sum it up nice and quick.

1. I’ve been house-hunting with the family for a few weeks now, because we’re finally financially secure enough to move out of this relatively small house (clearly, the global economic crisis hasn’t really hit home).

2. I’ve been attempting to excersise more because, while I’m at a perfectly healthy weight, I can’t delude myself any longer. I’m unfit. The continuing trend of being puffed out before almost anyone else in P.E. class has finally forced me to create a more intimate relationship with Mr. Treadmill.

3. Urinetown rehearsals are going strong, and we’re opening the show in just a month. I’m enjoying it at this point, and have gotten to know/actually enjoy the company of my cast-mates. We’re performing a scene for the entire student body (2000 students and a few hundred teachers) this Tuesday.

4. Two friends were in quarantine for swine flu last week (they’re fine now), and friends who were planning to go to Adelaide on music camp had their hopes dashed when Adelaide refused to accept students from Victoria on account of the pig virus. A good friend who now lives in Singapore was planning to visit us after a long time away, but changed plans due to the ridiculous panic surrounding the flu. Terrific.

5. I had mid-year exams a fortnight ago, and was really disappointed by the results. I managed to scrape together 64% on my maths exam; below the class average. I also received 74% on a science test. The class average was 86%. This was shocking, considering I’m usually the resident science geek in class, and it’s not a title I was in any hurry to relinquish. My first ever VCE exam however, went okay.

6. I MET JOHN GREEN! You”ll have to excuse the capitalization, but it really was exciting. John flew down here for a few days, and I went with my brother and a handful of his friends (because none of my friends have the foggiest idea who John Green is) to see him speak at the state library. He autographed two of my books, and was overall fantastic.

7. I’ve just been talking to my best friend from 4th grade over MSN. I haven’t made contact with anyone from that school for about five years, but it was nice to know that she still remembers me. She seems like a cool girl, and it’s strange to think how close we used to be.

8. The Monday after next marks the start of my work experience week. I’m working at my old primary school (not the one mentioned above, but one I moved to in 5th grade) with one of my best friends. I’m excited. The children are adorable, and the teachers are mostly familiar faces. It makes me feel all nostalgic and mushy.

9. There’s been a lot of drama at school that I’m not prepared to explain. The gist of it is that the aforementioned friend (who I’m working with) got into a lot of trouble – the kind of trouble I considered calling the police about, but abstained – and refused to talk to any of us about it. She was being hurt (may still be being hurt) by someone who she shouldn’t have been involved with, but she’s doing a fantastic job of pretending to be okay. Anyway, I’m really worried about her.

10. I’d really like to finish the list on a nice, even number, so I’ll mention that I had the day off of school today and spent it watching old movies (Dead Poet’s Society, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, Chocolat, A Weekend at Bernie’s, Thelma & Louise) and being useless in general. I loved every minute of it.

That’s about it, and I have to apologize. I suppose I didn’t sum it up “nice and quick” after all. In any case, thank you for putting up with all of that self-indulgent blather. I’m going to make an effort to blog more regularly again, and try not to get so wrapped up in school/friends/my own fifteen-ness.

Goodnight, potatoes.

I’m Addicted to Brain Crack.

If any of my readers are nerdfighters, (I realise the chances are slim to none), you too may have stumbled upon this brilliant video by ZeFrank which introduces us to the fascinating idea of Brain Crack.

Basically, the theory is that the best way to not run out of ideas is to just not execute them, and tell yourself that you don’t have the time or resources to do them right. Because “No matter how bad things get, at least you still have those good ideas that you’ll get to later“. That way, you just keep hanging on to these ideas in your head, like brain crack.

The longer you hang on to them, the higher your expectation of it will become, the more impossible it will be to achieve and the more dissapointed you become with the result.

So the best way to avoid getting addicted to brain crack is to get your ideas out into the open as soon as possible, because “the guy who fails three times has three times the experience as the dreamer who never executed his idea”. (I’m paraphrasing here. The video really is much more entertaining than anything I could write.)

I’ve been using this blog as a medium to separate myself from my own brain crack, but I haven’t been doing a very good job of it. There’s a bunch of topics I’ve wanted to type here for a long time now, but I never get around to it. I always tell myself that it’ll take a long time to word my ideas the right way, and I couldn’t possibly get my thoughts across to people in one sitting, so it gets pushed further and further back on my list of priorities.

Today’s no different, really.

It’s 10PM, I’m still sick and not feeling up to explaining any ideas in depth. I wanted to talk about the fact that I don’t swear, even though I can’t see anything wrong with it. I wanted to talk about how everything, right down to our cough medicine, promotes infidelity. I wanted to talk about the fact that I just plain do not believe in atheism. (Yes, I realise that last one is a little ironic, but it makes sense in my head.)

But I’m not going to type them out just yet. I’m going to let the thoughts simmer away until there comes a day when I sit down in front of the computer and can’t find a reason not to do it.

I’ll stop it here, because I’m itching to go back and watch CommunityChannel’s “We Just Touched Awkwardly” Song on youtube for the umpteenth time, because I haven’t had the best day and this cheered me right up.