i'm a model

I made a virtual me. That's it, up there. I know that it's difficult to judge the way you look, seeing as you can't be objective. That's why I made it. What I was wondering, was does it actually look like me? Because if it does, I can use it as a judgement for myself. If it doesn't, I'll know not to use it.

So yeah. Does it?

post number seventeen

i'm an idiot.

some things are supposed to motivate you.

so how come they don't? i spend more and more time with this stuff, hoping it'll get me off my ass and actually achieving, and yet i still can't do it.


stupid bitch.

everything is ruined forever

why can't i get anything right?

i didn't want to eat any lunch today. in fact, i had my whole fricken day planned out. and then i bought chocolate and a cookie and ruined it. and then when i got home, i ruined it even further.

seriously, don't let me do this. it's killing me with calories and i hate it.

je ne sais rien

je pense que j'ai une probleme. L'autre soir, j'ai ete tres frustree avec moi, pour beaucoup des raisons. Je ne suis pas organisee, et je n'ai rien motivation. Mais, j'ai pensee quelquechose tres mal. "Si je n'ai pas manger aujord'hui, il n'y a pas une probleme". J'ai attribue a la nourriture la responsabilite de ma tristesse.

Je sais que je ne suis pas anorexique. Je ne veux pas etre anorexique, c'est une malade tres mauvaise. Mais je ne sais pas la raison pour mon avis.

C'est effrayant.

but i don't understand!

i just don't understand some things. i mean, take today's qc. i mean, i get the joke. how the cartoonist is distracted by faye and zooms in, cause she's hot. i get that and yes, it's funny. i just don't understand why.

why faye? why not dora? is this comic pandering to a male or female audience? is the gueststripper doing this to faye because he thinks she's hot, or because the comic implies that faye is the hot one? i just don't understand. if faye were real, no one would think she were hot. so why go on about it here? does the gueststripper just have some weird kink? does the original author have a kink to make faye seem the hotter one? maybe he just has a girlfriend who looks like faye.

if anyone has the answers, please please please let me know. it's just one of those things in life that i cannot understand, no matter how hard i try.

twenty six things

a) j writes some serious shit on her blog.
b) today was fun. i feel like a very naughty girl but oh well.
c) harry potter is short. and he has stubble.
d) am possibly revising my views on facial hair. stubble is scratchy.
e) i am high on happy high feelings. its a nice way to be.
f) food is nice. i like it.
g) you are nice. i like you too.
h) i saw laura yesterday. first capers person i've hung out with outside season.
i) that makes me a lazy bitch, hey.
j) i have nothing to whinge about today.
k) which is nice for a change.
l) however, my room is a mess
m) and so is the rest of the house
n) thanks, girls.
o) we're on a mission from god.
p) i should really stop spending money
q) and phone credits
r) on things that i really don't need.
s) i haven't read my book for english yet. or watched my film.
t) i should probably do that.
u) i made an internet friend
v) through a dating site.
w) he asked me what i wanted. and i told him i wanted you.
x) i have stuff to do, so...
y) i'm gonna go. bye everyone!
z) xoxo

grr.


i'm scary.

varekai

lots to say today. firstly, i'd like to point out that last night i went to see varekai. it was fricken awesome, i loved every minute. there were only two problems with it though. the first was, that there were so many things going on onstage that i didn't know where to look. the second, was the king and queen of bogans and their three bogan kids were sitting behind us. that kind of sucked. but we were only six rows back from the stage, and some of the trapeze even flew over us at one point. Now that was cool. seriously, if you ever get the chance to see varekai, or any cirque performance, do it. it's worth every penny.

but it got me thinking. the performers in varekai were so immensely talented. of course, i immediately came home and pretended to be a contortionist, and needless to say, i sucked. it would be so awesome to have a special talent like being a contortionist. or any special talent, for that matter.

it all made me realise i actually have no talents. and i know all of this is my fault - it's my lack of dedication to anything. i get an idea, and i concentrate on that for a little while, but i've usually run out of steam in less than a week. and then i find something else i want to do. i mean, the only i've stuck at for a vaguely considerable amount of time is piano, and i'm not particularly good at that. i mean, i want to be, but every time i sit down to play, it always comes out crap and i hate that. i have no talents whatsoever. and it irritates me something chronic. and the worst part is that i have no one to blame. its my own fucking lack of motivation.

i can't dance, i can't sing, i can't act, i can't draw, i can't play the piano, i can't play a sport, i can't write, i can't get thin, i can't do maths, i can't even figure out who the fuck i am.

true story. i don't know i am. i mean, sure, i'm ally, ha-ha-ha, but i don't actually know who ally is. that's why i'm constantly looking to start again, because if i start all over again, i can build a person, someone who i KNOW. but its ridiculous the extent to which i don't know who i am. i don't know what i want to do with the rest of my life. i don't even know what clothes to wear or how to decorate my room - those things should define me, but they don't.

i know who i want to be. sometimes i want to be like a hotter, australian version of paris hilton or nicole richie. and then there's another someone that i would like to be. i want to be the kind of person who cuts her own hair, has lots of piercings, doesn't give a crap what other people think, refuses to follow trends, smokes, drinks, never eats and is just a general bad person. ii want to be that but i'm too chicken to do it.

but yeah. that's just my little whinge for the day. but i'm going to jamie's this afternoon so that shall be fun. and i'm sitting here in shorts and a tank top because when you are cold you burn more calories. hoorah. i'm fricken freezing.

anyway.
i love you so much. i really do. i swear if you go to melbourne next year and leave me here all alone i will probably shoot you. seriously.


see y'all later.

well. i know i bitch about it a lot, but you know what?




my life rocks.

i write.

i found her number written on a bathroom wall
"call for a good time" it said
i was down and needing something cheerful
so i did.
"who the fuck are you?" she asked when she answered the phone.
i told her my name
and she told me hers
and we got to talking about
life
and things.
before i knew it, we'd been talking for
three hours, or something like it.
she wouldn't tell me where she lived
so the next day
i called her back.
she answered her phone again
and this time she knew who i was.
we started to talk again, but suddenly she had to hang up
said it was her boyfriend.
so i hung up the phone for the night.
but the week after, i called back
she said he wasn’t home, and it was okay for her to talk
to me.
it brightened up my day
and she said it brightened hers too.
i kept calling
week after week
month after month
sometimes her boyfriend was there, but most times he wasn’t
but she never told me where she lived.
then one day she didn’t answer the phone
so i called back an hour later
and let it ring out.
the next day i tried again
and she still didn’t answer.
and the day after, she didn’t pick up her phone
but her boyfriend did
and he asked me if i was the fucker that stole his girlfriend.
i told him i didn’t even know where
she lived.
so i stopped calling. then someone called me.
it was her. she found me in the phone book
and wanted to know if she could stay with me awhile
and i said yes.
i waited up that night until my doorbell rang
somewhere around midnight
and she was there. i recognised her voice
but she had a black eye
and a cut lip
and i asked her if she was okay.
she said she’d be fine when she got back on her feet.

call me for a good time.

mint car

Another day, another blog. You must really be getting sick of these by now.

Anyway, it's holidays now. Which is good. It means I'll have at least an hour every day to exercise. I did 45 mins today. I'm quite proud of myself, seeing as I only stopped because the phone rang. I'm gonna have awesome legs by the end of the hols if I keep this up.

Thinking about jealousy today ((i wonder why?)). Realised I'm not particularly jealous of anyone. I mean, I'm jealous of lots of people, but that's only for one or two aspects of their lives, not the whole thing. Like, I'd love to be Jenny because she's so fricken thin, and she's good at manipulating people. But I'm also glad I'm not her because both her parents are on the dole and she lives in Elizabeth.


Gosh. This is dumb. My brain works in cycles. It's getting to the end of my favourite part, and I'm getting annoyed about that.
See, I start off thinking that I look fine, that I look good even. And then I start thinking how it really wouldn't hurt to lose a few kilos. And then I think that it would be really nice to be a bit thinner. And then I start thinking what a fat pig I am, and how I really need to lose some weight. And then I realise that even if I am fat, lots of other people are too and I (and other people) should be able to accept me for what I am. And then it starts again. My favourite part is the bit where I know I'm fat, and need to do something about it. Because when that part ends, I feel like I'm just being delusional, and comforting myself about something that isn't true. Also, I have the worst arguments with myself just as it's ending. Because I really want that food, but I also know I shouldn't. I've gotta keep the faith, this time.

Cause even when I feel like I'm an okay size, I know deep down inside that it would be better to be thin. And it's easier to get there when I feel like a fat pig.

Because this time I need to succeed.

Because I'm doing it for him.

bones define who we really are. let them show.

okay, so you (my huge amount of people who read this which comes to all of about one) are probably sick of reading these, but this is another fat blog. i need to get this kind of stuff out, i need to write it up here. so, if it makes you uncomfortable, don't read it.

but actually, it's a happy fat blog. admittedly, i stuffed my face with loads and loads of junk today, but i've been doing that every day, and i'm still managing to lose weight. fifty-nine kilos baby! which means i have a bmi of 19.27, which means i only have another two kilos to go until i'm under 19, and once i get to 55 kgs i'll officially be too thin to be a model. that is my ultimate goal. support me in it, okay?

cause seriously. it doesn't matter what else you do in life, if i'm thin, i win.


hah. i sound like such a pro-ana. but i'm seriously not, okay? i don't want an eating disorder, because i know that they are hell to go through, and seriously screw with your system. i don't want other people to get eating disorders. eating disorders are about control, and a diet is about losing weight.

i dont have either of those. what i want is a new way of life.

i want, when people call me fat, to know that they are joking. beyond a doubt.

some things are stupid

caution: sensitive stuff following.

death is stupid. i mean, really really dumb. everyone has to die, yeah i get that, but it's stupid that no one knows what happens when you do.

euphemisms for death: are equally dumb. personally, i am upset more by hearing "passed away" than i am by hearing "died". and that's why euphemisms are dumb.

so is grief, basically. in my opinion and experience, people don't grieve for the departed. they grieve for themselves. for all we know, the one who died is happy-as-larry enjoying themself in heaven for something. or maybe they've just ceased to exist, in which case it doesn't matter because they can't feel anything anyway. the point is, that you don't grieve for the one who died. you grieve for all the things that you will be missing. because that person makes you happy, and if they aren't around, that's one source of happiness you no longer have. you grieve for the opportunities you passed up, opportunities to get to know them better, have fun with them, appreciate something they love. grief is selfish. hence, it is dumb.

but then, i hate all things selfish. i'm not trying to say that i'm completely selfless, because that's not true. it's just selfish things are dumb.

like death. if you die, you've taken yourself away and left me on my own. you selfish bastard.