“Will you defeat them, your demons, and be the savior of the broken and the damned?”

--

The heat was unbearable. The sun seemed to be suspended above my head, firing missiles of heat down onto my exposed skin. I could see the heat rippling in tiny waves around my feet. Mum and her friends from work were trying to start the barbeque, to no avail. The big oak tree I sat under was provided the only shade in the whole park.

Ha, I should be a writer, I thought amusedly as I went back to pore over the Girlfriend magazine in my lap and the all-important question of what I would do if my best friend’s boyfriend hit on me.

The smell of a barbeque smoke and an explosion of loud, harsh chattering cut into my thoughts like a sharp blade. Mum’s thundering coarse voice rose about the rest.
“My Jenny, she wear some clothes like this – one piece of cloth! And I say, what’s this? And she say very modern fashion.” There was another explosion of laughter and Auntie Ho simpered in a sugary sweet voice, “Meidi, ni tai qin song lah! I would never have let my daughter embarrass the family like that.”

I was boiling with anger. How dare my mum make fun of me in front of all those people? Why did Chinese people always sound like they were at the fishmarket? Auntie Go was an embarrassment to her family. I scribbled a hideous caricature of her in my magazine. I fumed and didn’t notice Mum until she had sat right beside me.
“It’s a beautiful day today,” Mum commented.
“What do you want now?” I scowled.
“Guo lai. I’ll tell you a story. The story of my childhood.” I looked up, surprised. This was the first time Mum had ever talked about her life. She continued, “My father was a poet, my mother, a painter. We lived in a small country town in the outskirts of Beijing where my parents made just enough money for us all by selling their poems and paintings.”

It was a relaxing scene, like so many peace evenings at home. A single lightbulb dangling from the ceiling cast a warm yellow light over the room, illuminating the many paintings decorated the shabby walls. The smell of incense lingered in the air. Ba sat at one end of the writing desk, reading to us from his beloved collection of books and scrolls, some dating hundreds of years old. Ma, at the other end, worked on her painting, immersed in her own beautiful world of colour, mountains and mist.

“Ba, the Red Guards are going to come for us one day if you keep on thinking these old thoughts,” I said. We had all heard the stories of people getting killed for practising the Old Ways.
Ba stroked his most prized possession - a copy of Libai’s most famous poem copied out by Ling Ching Chao herself 1000 years ago.
“Hear for yourself how beautiful this ‘old culture’ is.”

Night Thoughts - Libai
I wake and moonbeams play around my bed
Glittering like hoarfrost to my wondering eyes
Upwards the glorious moon I raise my head
Then lay me down and thoughts of home arise

Ba sighed as he put down the silk scroll. His eyes were soft and thoughtful. “This is what the government does not understand, Meidi. By destroying the Old, what will be the foundation for the New?”

“Our comfortable life was shattered on the happiest day of the country,” Mum said bitterly.

The noise was extraordinary – loud drums, cymbals and instruments of all kinds mixed with the exuberant, feverish shouting of propaganda slogans.
“Long live Chairman Mao!”
“I love Chairman Mao!”
Chairman Mao was to speak at our here, at a mere country village! Thousands of red banners and flags were waved by thousands of enthusiastic hands. People sang and danced, eagerly clutching their Little Red Books in their hands. Emotions were at fever pitch and people around me wept with joy and pride. However, I couldn’t help feeling slightly uneasy as I thought about Ba’s teachings about the Olds.

Mao only spoke for a short time, his speech constantly interrupted by applause. He spoke of his Cultural Revolution. How, by bringing an end to old culture, old ideas, old customs and old ideas, the New China would be able to go forth into the future with the wealth of the present. The year 1966 would be the year where China would amaze the world.

I replayed his speech in my mind as I walked home. Chairman Mao had said to destroy the old, but the old culture was what my parents had been living on all their life. Who was right? As I neared home, I heard loud banging and the sound of broken glass. A gruff voice shouted, “Chen Ming, Wang Xinling, you are traitors to the government! Anti-revolutionaries! A disgrace to the country.”

Through the doorway, I saw Red Guards smashing furniture, ripping Ba’s beloved poems and Ma’s beautiful paintings. In the midst of it stood my parents, wide-eyed with horror, as they saw their lifetimes’ work being destroyed before their eyes.
“Ba, Ma, what’re they doing?”
‘Go away, Meidi,” my mother said softly.
“But – “
“Go away!”
Blank faced Guards pushed my parents out of the door, knocking me to the ground. Someone tossed a match through the door. There was a momentary stillness and the house erupted in bright orange flames, hungrily consuming the culture of thousands of years. My life, my parents lives, were burning away into ash. The last Guard turned around to give me a sympathetic glance and then turned around and walked away. I was alone.

Mum was sobbing quietly, her shoulder shuddering despite the heat.
“They didn’t do anything wrong.”
I involuntarily put my arm around her – something I hadn’t done for a long time. It was as if our roles had been switched around as my mother cried on my shoulder and I murmured words of comfort.
“It’s OK. It’s all in the past now. Don’t cry.”
As I stood with my arm around Mum, I wondered what sort of people my grandparents were. The devastation Mum must have felt as she saw her parents being dragged away from her forever. I didn’t want to lose my mum either. My chest tightened at the realisation.

Mum wiped her tears and pointed to the picture I had drawn in my magazine on my lap.
“You seemed to have inherited your grandmother’s gift with art,” she smiled. “I never really liked that Mrs Go.” I grinned.
“It’s a beautiful day today.”
David Smith, middle aged, rich, successful; a strong believer of so-called true love. It is where our unfortunate story begins, revolving around his “love.” Although our Mr. Smith was successful, he was lonely, and as the old saying goes- you can’t buy happiness. Just two months ago, he had been the happiest man alive, with a beautiful wife, riches, love. What more could a man ask for? However, he was not content, he wanted more; he wanted perfection.

His wife was a beautiful woman from a working class family. Mr. Smith hosted many parties, and before every party, she was always dolled up- listening to her husband’s demands.

Unable to keep up with first class life, she sought refuge with another man, someone who led a simple life. But as always, the truth was discovered. Our Mr. Smith was devastated. His wife, cheated on him with a man whose riches didn’t even add up to a quarter of his total? No, this could not be.

He stayed in this condition for a two whole months, thinking about the beautiful woman who left him for another man. He provided her with everything, did he not? Food, clothes, luxury, wasn’t that what women wanted? To be pampered like dogs, taken out to show off their beauty, like dogs in a dog show.

Then she came.

Beautiful, kind- a replica of his former love. Tanya Wallace, starting from a lowly secretary, using her own skill and wit, assigned to be the manager of his hotel. The way she did everything, even the smallest things seemed exactly like her. So strangely similar.

Unable to avoid her, he decided to do the opposite. The way she looked at him, that look of delight on her face when her boss asked her out for lunch was similar to the woman he once loved. It drove him mad, to sit across the same table and to be reminded.

It seemed impossible, this weird, yet wonderful creation- it was like it was sent by God to himself, possibly compensation for his broke heart.

Soon, he forgot about that other woman, and forgot the pain that she caused him. Tanya Wallace moved in with him, and life carried on for him, as if that other woman had never left him.

But, my dear readers, forgetfulness resides with ignorance.

It was two whole months into their “happy” relationship that he began to notice a change. Tanya seemed to be unhappy to be with him, and was not satisfied with anything that he did. Ignoring the changes, he continued to host parties, and insisting that she attend. As he often told his male friends in private, “women are just like dogs, meant to be taken out for show, pampered and taken care of, like dogs in a dog show.”

And then, one night, he saw her again.

Yes, the woman who left him for another man. Suddenly, all the pain she caused him, the memories, good and bad, flooded back into him, like a wave coming in, filling in the rock pools, and erasing all signs of life. It seemed like yesterday that she left him; it was just painful enough to watch her, sit there, sipping her coffee, talking to her friend.

Moving in closer to get a better look, he saw how much happier she looked. Unable to control himself, he started to call out, but stopped just in time…

For the “friend” she was conferring with was Tanya Wallace.

Right. No big deal, he thought. Possibly just long lost friends, that just happened to meet each other at the same time, same place and decided to sit down and have a chat, he thought. They could have known each other through school, work, neighbours even. Words of comfort ran through his head, calming him.

That night, in bed, David Smith asked his bride-to-be, about the woman. She seemed startled, stuttering back a reply, that that woman was only a friend she knew from school. Satisfying his need for reassurance, he pushed the thought aside.

Meanwhile, there was trouble at his company. As mentioned before, dear readers; David Smith was rich. Filthy Rich. His prize possessions included the luxury 5 star hotel he had inherited from his father, located in California. It was a hotel for those who enjoyed only the very best.

Recently however, there just seemed to be a lack of money. How could that be? His hotel was pure luxury, and had never experienced financial difficulties. Well… never … until Tanya was assigned to the job.

Devastation, and confusion struck him like a blow to the face. Fury welled up inside him. Did he not provide her with everything? Luxury, 5 star comfort; wasn’t that enough? She had turned against her master, and betrayed him, just like a dog that bites the hand that feeds it.

Determined to figure out the motive, he decided to set someone on her, reporting back her every move. The “detective” reported seeing her constantly meeting up with her.

Shock ran through his body like electricity passing through wire.

Determined to find out the relation between them, he followed Tanya one night to a lonely park in the middle of the city. Not long after, someone came.

Her.

Tanya and that woman seemed to be exchanging something. Heart racing, David Smith moved in closer. Unable to resist, he shouted out angrily. Caught in mid-act, they froze. Dear readers, imagine the awkward silence between the three of them. The ex, the future bride, and the victim…

The silence seemed to strain, until she spoke.

“David. We meet again. And seeing as we’re caught, I might as well tell you everything. You see, Tanya was sent by me. My creation, sent by me, to get close to you. To hurt you in every way possible. It was I, I who thought of the idea of turning your hotel bankrupt. And do you know why? You made this happen. You and your never-ending demands; taking away my confidence, treating me like your accessory. And you did it again with Tanya. Treating her like a dog, just someone to boost your ego…”

Speechless, our character staggered back, unable to take in anything she said. No, not true. He knew what women wanted. Like dogs, pampered, never quite in the spotlight, but just next of it, next to its master.

David Smith, lost like a dog, kicked aside, winced with pain, as his loved ones turned and walked away, just like a dog that turns on its master, and bites the hand that feeds it…

Blue. That can't be right. This pathetic mood ring. "It's magical and tells the future," she said. What a rip off! I trudged down the long stretch of lifeless grey concrete, clearing thoughts of fake "magical" jewellery out of my stressed head, until I reached the familiar lime green garage door. I lifted it roughly and slipped inside, escaping from the bitter hands of the harsh wind.

 

The sweet aroma of baked blueberries drifted around my nose. Yet, it suddenly occurred to me that Mum never made blueberry treats. My older brother was allergic. "Mum, what's up?" I questioned with a perplexed look.

"I'm making blueberry pie!" she responded eagerly, like a child with a brand new toy."
"But, what about Wayne?"

"Oh, I forgot to tell you…"

"Tell me what?!" I demanded in a more serious tone.

"Don't worry", Mum assured, "He's just gone to Europe for a few months on a holiday."

"That's sudden!" I thought to myself, as I climbed up the stone-cold marble staircase to my small, snug bedroom. I dropped the ring on my dresser and started on my English homework.

 

You see, my brother and I were inseparable so it was natural for me to be troubled by his abrupt departure. I was ecstatic for him (he had always wanted to visit Europe) but as glad as I was, I still felt abandoned, desolated. Alone. Lonely days passed, lonely nights came. Months passed. No Wayne at breakfast, no Wayne at school, no Wayne on the couch watching TV at night. More and more, I missed him. More and more, I became empty, like half of me had been suddenly ripped out.

 

I felt sick. Mum had gone out. Awkwardly, I staggered down the stairs to take a Panadol and retreated to my room for a nap. A long, lengthy nap…

Sharp, high-pitched sounds cut through my peaceful slumber. Fatigued, I grabbed for the phone, and attempted to open my weary eyes. "Hello?"

"Hi, is this the Graham residence?" enquired an unfamiliar but friendly voice.

"It is. Who's speaking please?"

"This is Roxy from Westmead Hospital and-"

I interrupted and broke into instant panic.

"Oh no! Who's hurt? Is it Mum? Is-"

"No, it's your father. He's been in a car accident and we need you to come down here. He'll be fine."

She hung up.

 

Before leaving, I decided to try the ring on again, if it really did tell the future, maybe it could give me an insight into what was happening to my dad. No change. The once relaxing, soft blue colour was now a disgusting, sickening shade. I cried out in frustration and threw it onto my cluttered desk before leaping down the staircase and heading towards the garage.

 

Trembling, and still in a faded tank top and torn trousers, I stumbled into the dusty family Kombi, pushed in the bronzed key and turned it. The engine set off with a lurch then smoothed into a silent hum. I drew a deep breath and accelerated out onto the flat lamp-lit street. Sick with worry, I found it extremely difficult to concentrate on driving. I had only passed my driving test a few months ago so I had little self confidence. Adding to the stress was the fact that Dad had been in a car crash! What if he was seriously hurt, on the verge of death! Why did Roxy need me there now? What if it was a serious emergency? What if I was too late? What if- I stopped myself mid-sentence. Think positive, I told myself over and over. But I still found myself in sheer panic. My fingers shook. My face was cold and colourless. My breathing was short and sharp. It felt like every bone in my body was shaking.

 

The icy touch of the door handle stung my tender palm as I released it cautiously, praying for the best. A young blonde nurse in a bleached white apron stood beside my vulnerable father. "H-Hi, I'm his daughter," I started.

"Oh, thanks for coming quickly. Your father's in a coma, after another car collided with his, we need you to fill out some forms," answered a soft voice.

Scott Graham. 46. 13 Rose Street, Sydney. I scrawled the details onto the complicated form as neatly as my shaking hand would let me.

I scanned the accident report. 5:32pm. Collision with blue Toyota Sedan. Blue…that's peculiar. Mum arrived a few minutes later. She sat by his bed. Crying. She has not returned home since, staying by Dad's side like a loyal Labrador. That night, I tried the mood ring again. Still no change.

 

The next day, I received my Year 12 final report. I had failed Textiles and Design. My favourite subject. Designing was my life's dream. One day, I longed to see beautiful models flaunting my own designs on a glamorous runway. My dream. Shattered. All because of my final assessment, a summer dress worth 50%. Days, weeks, months spent on creating the perfect design and I failed. How was I going to get into a design school now? Feeling worthless, stressed and miserable, I just wanted to cry. Taking my usual route home, I found the house dead and empty. I dumped my bag on the polished wooden floorboards, flung myself onto the leather couch and drenched the velvety smooth cushion with my tears. When I eventually stopped, I lay on the couch, trying to process the past events. The cool leather relieved my swollen puffy eyes and red cheeks. Everything was going wrong. Wayne was gone. Dad was in a coma. My future was destroyed.

 

Then it occurred to me. Everything had happened after I bought that useless ring. Wayne left then the blueberry pie. Dad was in hospital after a crash with a blue car. And my final assessment was a floaty, pale blue dress. If there was a light-bulb above my head, it would have lit up. Maybe it was true. It sure pin-pointed precisely how I felt. Blue. Maybe the ring was magical. Maybe it did tell the future. I sighed heavily. An idea sprung to mind. I bounded upstairs to get the mood ring I had angrily stashed in a pile of junk. Finding it under mountains of dirty soft toys, I put it on. For the first time, it changed. It became a soft and warm yellow. Maybe everything would be okay soon… Gently, I closed my eyes, clutching onto the ring, wishing. Maybe.

 

We decided to be extra nice to our lovely viewers. & so, as we promised 'daily entertainment' (which we havent fulfilled very well.. but we're working on it), we give you SIX WHOLE DAYS of continuous .. english major work stories!

__________________________________________________________________

The day has come. The day I will finally see her again. Closing my eyes, I reminisce the day I first met her. Her long chestnut brown hair tinted with gold, billowing in the wind. She was running towards me, a huge smile on her face, flashing her perfectly straight teeth, her red dress dancing in the breeze. How I long to see her smile again.

“Sir, the usual?”
I snap back into reality. A man with hazel green eyes is staring back at me with an amused expression, the corners of his mouth moving in an upward direction. Returning the smile, I watch one of his buttons break loose from his tightly fitted pale blue collared shirt.
“Yeah, red poppies please.”

--

It was her 26th birthday. Her parents had planned a huge celebration, to replace the 21st she never had. I went into her room, to convince her to join the party, which she did not want. She was seated on her double bed, filled with soft yellow cushions, looking intently at a photo. I sat down on a wooden chair and waited for her to break the silence.

“He’s gone, you know? My brother…” she began, tears running down her face, “I always thought he would return… but I guess I shouldn’t have expected anything…”

She paused to look at me before continuing.

“The day before he left to go to Afghanistan, he only said one word to me”, she said, in between sobs, “Poppy. He had folded me a paper flower and promised me that as long as the poppy lived, so would he. I ripped the flower up, angry that he had left me with our parents…”

That night, she slowly began to open up. And I learned of all the guilt she had pent up inside of her. We spent all night in her room talking, she sung while I played the guitar, until we were too tired to even get up. For the first time in months, she beamed her gentle smile once again. As I left her house, I remember thinking to myself that my life couldn’t possibly get better, if only I knew how wrong I was…

--

“Toronto to Sydney, now landing”
My heart races rapidly. Soon I will be able to tell her everything I have longed to say. I watch, as loved ones return to their families, as little children run into their father’s arms.

--

I remember waking up early the next morning, to buy red poppies for her, as a promise that I would never leave. I ran up the familiar steps to her house, not bothering to knock. I was too excited to wait even another minute to see her. I went into her room, finding it empty, with her bed unmade and clothes lying everywhere. Still grasping flowers in my hand, I searched the living room, where purple and silver balloons were still dangling on the ceiling from the previous night. I called out her name again and again, but the only response was the echo of my own voice.

On the showcase cabinet laid a piece of paper ripped hurriedly from a notepad. The writing was very messy, almost illegible, as if it had been written in a rush. A few words were smudged and I could almost feel the tears falling from her eyes as she wrote.

Antonio,
Do you remember the Christmas party we went to last year? You asked me what was worrying me and I said nothing. I talked to everyone but you that night, and not once did you yell at me. That was the night I began trusting you. Yesterday, I learned the real truth about my brother’s death. I trust that, for one more time, you will believe me and let me go. I’ll miss the times we spent together. You were always there when I most needed it. As you read this, I will be heading to the airport.

This won’t be our goodbye- it is only a note to say I’ll see you soon.

My hands shook as I read the last line over and over again. “I’ll see you soon…” It was at that moment that I realized it wasn’t too late. I jumped into my car and drove as fast as my second hand Toyota could take me.

I had arrived at the airport, but found no sign of her. I searched every flight, every toilet, every souvenir shop… I remember sitting down at a café, reading the headlines for clues that might solve the mystery.

--

“London to Sydney, arriving at 11:58pm”
I take a glance at my watch. Only 14 minutes until she arrives. I sit down on a chair and pick up the newspaper, noticing how much has changed since I last read the paper.

And for the countless time I’ve watched today, I see loved ones return home. I see some people entering a new country for the first time, with eyes full of joy and excitement. Yet, she hasn’t come…

I look up to see a pilot stare back at me. His eyes look tired and creases on his forehead are beginning to form.
“Is there anyone left on that flight?” I ask.
“I’ve checked the plane several times. No, there’s no one left”, he replies, “maybe the next flight.”
My eyes droop down and fill with tears as I avoid his gaze.
“I’ve been…” I stammer, “I’ve been waiting for ‘the next flight’ for 6 years now…”

--
So like, you there; that bitch who hates Asians.

You hate Asians?

Well fuck you.

AN ASIAN COUNTRY IS GNA WIN THE OLYMPICS. SO SUCK ON THAT.
It's amazing at what one little lie can trigger.
ZAC = 100% BULLSHIT

Why am I so mad about something streamed from the mouth of this no-lived loser, you all ask? BLOODY HELL, fuck you, and stop trying to drag people down by spreading rumours and lying to make people believe. Do you really think that rousing controversey and shit is going to get all the girls glued to you?

I could keep going and going and going and going and going about him being a dickqueen but everyone knows that Celia is the best at doing that, and will pass it over to her.



--

For now, instant noodles and sleep after that. I'm seriously stoned these days and looking at the screen takes effort.
To Do List (now and future):

1. Photography assignment
2. PDHPE assignment on "Qualities of a good team member etcetc..."
3. English story (Mr Yenews says I have problems with my descriptions and asked me why the lady would suspect that her boyfriend would want to kill her son)
4. Maths homework
5. Maths homework since the beginning of term 3
6. Start PASS assignment on Pole Vault =D
7. Start Visual Design article on the Biennale

To Find List:

1. Test strips for photography assignment
2. My gluestick

To Buy List (On Monday)

1. Gluestick
2. Sister's birthday present (She wants UGG-ly UGG boots- wtf- she thinks you can get them at target for 20 dollars)
3. Hetty's birthday present
4. Tom's birthday present
5. Plastic cups for multicultural fair for saturday school.
6. Scab cup lids from Gloria Jeans and hope they fit on plastic cups.
7. A new shirt from the uniform shop.

---

A note from my mother:

"You've got to stop eating all this junk.. or else I won't buy you any more chips the next time we go to Aldi. You're a size 14 already. *indicates chest*. I'm only a size 12"

"Mum, yours would be in women sizes."

...

First, HERE COMES PAT’S QUOTE OF THE DAY!!
“I use the star clip to hold up the hair on my back”
And here’s the context it came from…
To maintain privacy and anonymous-ness, let’s call the characters A and B when they are in the subject C (for commerce)
A: Haha. I don’t think your hair clips are helping much. All your hair on the back of your head is sticking out.
B: -fix hair-
A: that’s better…
B: Yeah, I use the star clop to hold up the hair on my back… (cut off by strange looks at B from A)

BOTH: -insert uncontrollable tear-causing laughter here-

WARNING: this scenario may not give all readers the same level of laughter. If you find this unfunny please see a doctor asap. SG is cannot be held responsible for any injuries and/or deaths involved with the reading of this quote.

Ok back to reality and unlameness… but seriously, that was really funny at the time…

BIENNALE! The biennale was really good. Minus the worksheets and questions and notes we had to take. For people who don’t know, the biennale is like an art show but really good. And the ferry ride is FREE!! Haha. Maybe you can even try the Titanic pose like Derf and George. Oh and don’t forget to wave at passing ferries and Sydney-Harbour-Bridge-climbers.
But I really think that the taking notes aspect sort of ruined the experience. Aren’t you meant to really enjoy and look at art and take in the real message?? Instead, we all huddled around the little white plaques quickly scribbling down as much detail as we can then briefly glancing at the work before moving on. And Bob had a genius idea! She stood inconspicuously around the other school’s students with the tour guide telling them info on the artwork trying to catch the vital info.

Then our teacher mistook two students from that school for us and told them to go downstairs and get ready to leave cos the bus was waiting. Haha. They just agreed and exchanged uhh-that-was-random looks. Bob and I told the teacher and apparently she went and apologised. >< It was a really good day though. I’d trade a trip to the Biennale for a day at school with double science anyday.
Now we have to do a newspaper report. And the art class has to do an essay. And since Tom is doing both topics….

VA + VD = NEWSPAPER REPORT AND AN ESSAY!

Well…good luck with that Tom. Guess all those notes will come in handy after all!





So today, since basketball had no game cos we were too unco to get in semis, I watched U15 touch football B team play against.

Wednesdays are fun when there is no basketball =]

Omg the touch team is so pro, they make the basketball teams look so crap ==”

Sivad was watching the touch game too and she kept on saying stuff like, “ohh who’s the tiny girl who just got in to play? She’s so tiny and cute!” while trying to “fix up” her daughter’s textiles homework >_>

--

I decided to “train” with the touch team before their game started.

Training= kicking/passing a football to anyone/anything in the way

My left index finger currently hurts very very much due to an unsuccessful attempt at trying to catch a football that was falling from 5+ metres in the air.

Note to self- never; ever try to catch a flying football

ANYWAYS

You know what I absofuckinglutely hate? Those people who can’t think of their own ideas, so they scab other peoples ideas and switch the words around or something equally as stupid.

For example, the Adidas slogan.

DISCLAIMER: this is just an example I thought up on the spot, not targeted at anyone in particular.

Adidas slogan:

Impossible is nothing

Idiot that can’t think of his/her/it’s own idea:

Anything is possible

==””””””””””

OK, so maybe that wasn’t a very good example, but you get the idea.

Seriously, have some originality won’t you? It’s not only very stupid, it’s also irritating. Think, how would you like it, if you thought of the most awesomest idea ever, and then some dipshit comes along, thinks that your idea is also very awesome, and uses it as a foundation for his/her/it’s stupid idea. And more then just the foundation; practically the whole idea, just altering some stupid, insignificant part just so it “differs” from the original idea.

YOU WON’T LIKE IT VERY MUCH, WOULD YOU IDIOT?*

*rhetorical question

==

--

PS:

OH LOL. BASSHUNTER IS AWESOME =D

The Dota song is awesome =]
DISCLAIMER: Chrstians should not read this post.



I know that I'm blogging for the second time today, and I know that I should be either watching the Olympics or getting a move on with my Photography assignment #8 instead of staring at the computer screen, but MY FATHER IS SO FREAKING PISSY!!!!!!!!!



Like, who the fck is he to diss Religion to me like it's a disease? OMFG X_X. You know what, last week I asked my anti-religious parents if I could go to Rice Rally, and they acted like it was some drug-dealing dodgy disco or something, and asked me what it was. Then, after I exaplained to them that it was a night for Youths about Jesus, and that LITERALLY ALMOST EVERYONE from school was going, instead of relaxing they went into spasms of shock horror.



My father is so strict, like that scary dad from "Raise Your Voice". He is also extremely rude, and YES, I am thinking about the times when he:

- fought with a priest from a family when we were at a restaurant with them.

- refused to stand up and sing when we went to a church when my sister was performing there.

- made numerous offensive remarks at the pope on the television broadcasting of World Youth Day.

-(and much more)



Since I don't want to offend the Christians who read this blog, I'm going to quote some of his remarks about Rice in the nicest possible way, after he made me research it on the internet to show him because he thought the card invite was not substantially informative:

- "Psht, it says here that there's going to be a talk about Jesus. Why would you want to go?"

-"Don't think that you should go just because it says that there is going to be singing and dancing. They're just using it to brainwash you."

- "you can have as much fun as you want, just don't mix it with Jesus."

- *later to my mum:* "it's just another one of those things where you reach up to the sky blindly and jump up and down"



WTF????? This is even worse than what he says about Americans! Now I'm not allowed to go anymore. Gahhh... he's a cool dad otherwise though... it's just.... WTF???? Someone pray for him, please.



At least my Rice card thingy hasn't gone completely to waste. It is now stuck in my Photography Diary as an "Example of photomontage art practices".







p.s. Did you all hear on the news about how some mental Chinaman killed an American in Beijing and then commited suicide by jumping off the roof? Yeah anyway, LMAO @ the news!



"Australian athletes have been warned to wear the Australian uniform in public places when not competing in events, so that they are not mistaken for Americans."
GEOGRAPHY

Oh my gosh, I was only up to question 40 when the bell went and I had to hand it in, so I circled C for the last 10 questions. Geography is so shifty, I swear. And Bikhram and somebody else I can't remember was sent out of the classroon immediately by Mrs Samud because he was apparantly feeling his *COUGHballsACHOO* thigh.



PDHPE

Alas, Dr Elyorc has returned from his annual trip to some place or another for his personal reasons (which none of us know about, ofcourse). So it was no surprise that he randomly fished out a booklet about working as a team and scrutinized us as if this was a major assessment topic which was essential to our knowledge. Like today he went down the class list and made us all give him an example of good team membership, and since there are like 25 people in the class and about 5 qualities, he flamed at the people who couldn't think of anything as if it was the most important assessment on the planet. Well, no more sex education for us xD.

ENGLISH

I've decided that instead of setting my story in the 21st century (since mike keeps asking why some lady would possibly want to kill her boyfriend when she could just call the police), I'm going to base it in like the 1500s in a Spanish village that nobody's ever heard of. Because then I can make all this stuff up and say it was all reasonable in that time period in Spain ;)

WHO WATCHED THE OPENING CEREMONY? Hahahaha it was pretty good! Except that I fell asleep on the couch halfway through and missed most of it including the fireworks, lighting of the torch, athletes walking out etc. Oh, and no offence to that little girl who was meant to be singing, but I think she was just moving her lips. I mean, the timing was a bit off. =(, anyway, and I got so freaked out when those ancient dudes with the big robes and the cricket/antennae hats did their stuff. Last night our family watched the China Versus Canada Women's soccer, and OMFG those China guns looked so much like men O___O. I have to say though, they were pretty good =)

Just a note to the people fighting in the war between Russia or whatever and Georgia: WE'RE INTO THE TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY, GOD-DAMMIT. WTF, I can't believe they're letting something like this happen, in the middle of a city! It's almost like World War 1 all over again, from what I've seen on the news, with soldiers lying half-chopped up in the hospitals. SHAME ON YOU, GEORGE BUSH.
I am so frkn close, to getting up from my seat in front of the damn computer, and strangling my brother and stop his ugly existence from existing.

Why? Because for the past fucking hour he has been singing that shitty song “Shake it- Metro Station*” in this monotone voice, and all I can hear now is:

“Shake, Shake, Shake eeeeeeeeeeeet”

I absolutely HATE my brother. No, hate is not a strong word, none of that “it’s not hate, its just dislike” shit; this is pure, utter hate.

Yes, as you can see, I am very pissed right now.

Today the express bus to Epping (note that the word “express” is put in bold), took a frkn detour to get to Epping; damn old bus driver == Instead of turning INTO the M2, the bus driver had this idea that “Nope! Not getting these damn kids to Epping on time. I’m gna make a detour through Carlingford and they can't do anything about except curse me and whinge and whine about my shitty bus driving skills behind me!”

==”

So then I missed my train and I was stuck @ Epping, IN THE COLD, for half an hour and freezing to death.

Baulkham Hills --> Northmead --> Carlingford --> Epping = half an hour

WRONG.

Baulkham Hills --> M2 motorway --> Epping = 10 minutes

SEE THE DIFFERENCE, STUPID HILLSBUS?

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* Idiot band Metro Station: If you can’t think of any other lyrics then “SHAKE, SHAKE, SHAKE IT” don’t bother with the damn song. Seriously. You’re not cool with your 124897345 tattoos and piercings- they just make you look more retarded then you already are.
351st.

The Jap people came the other day. Period 8, on Monday. We went there to welcome the Jap people, not because we wanted to miss out on science, right? >< Haha, we all filed outside the TLC. But no one ever told us to come in, so everyone left, and it was just Matt, Tammy and me.

And we walked in, one of us pretending to be a host, and the others pretending to be from Japan. The Jap people gave Mrs. Ttibsen a fan, but she didn’t know how to open it, so she had to get Mr. Arago to open it for her. And the Jap woman gave this speech, but they were speaking so fast, that all we heard was “ugadugaduga des ne”. After this short speech and we thought the speeches were over, everyone stood up and left the TLC. So we followed them, because we thought that they were going to get a tour of the school or something (and we didn’t want to be left in the TLC by ourselves haha). We walked through the front of the TLC and up the stairs to the ‘upstairs TLC’ (ironic name, don’t you think?) and walked the dark hallway and realized that they were walking back to the TLC >< Haha, good exercise. Mrs. Doowelif saw us, obviously bludging and asked us “which one of you is from Japan?” So we all start speaking Jap =) Or, what we thought was Jap, considering that none of us did Jap.

There weren’t enough hosts from our school, so an old man from Kellyville volunteered to host a girl. And he arrived at our school, and took the girl’s suitcase and put his arm around the girl. And she looked so freaked out.
AH FREAKING ENGLISH! GO AND BURN IN HELL I TELL THEE!

Wow what a pleasant way to start a post. But I swear, if I hear the words "creative" and "writing" again, I will literally go and blast myself to some distant planet that can withstand human existance without the support of English, such as Mars. Hey! DID YOU KNOW they found water in Mars? Great success. *thumbs up* Anywho, I can assure you that in my future life, however deprived of money I may be, my skillz and educational learnings about "imaginative writing" will not come into play.

Hm, I haven't updated for awhile. Perhaps it's time I carve on my gravestone here.

Well, seeing as everyone's discussing about their excellent ideas on the topic of English *Einstein lightbulbs flashing furiously* I shall now entice the viewers with my.. AHEM wonderful, ingenious, TRES CREATIVE AND IMAGINATIVE idea.

- drum roll please -

Well yes, it is based on a My Chemical Romance song. Very inspired, non? Story goes that this alcoholic/drug pothead wakes up in a hospital thinks he's hungover from the night before, until his mom informs him that he has been in an carcrash with his brother. He then remembers drinking in a car with his bro before crashing into an oncoming vehicle, which then claimed his bro's life and injured himself severely - relying purely on life support.

He then goes into a rage and feels regret for everything he's done, buried in guilt by the murder of his bro. He then starts to black out and increase in heart rate etc and is slowing losing consciousness, and eventually dies and enters this dark world - ie life after death. And then he's confused/ lost and thinks he's going to hell for everything he's done, until a parade passes by he has a flashback of when he was young, his brother took him into the city to see a marching band.

And he said will you, defeat them, and all the non-believers, the plans that they have made? Because one day, I'll leave you A PHANTOM to lead you in the summer, to-

hahaha nahh I'm kidding. ;) No prize for guessing what song it is though. =='

So then he felt remorseful for the life he lead, and decides that it's never too late to be good and fulfils his bro's wish by joining the black parade and become the "saviour of the broken and the damned." And the story ends with them singing "we'll carry on.. we'll carry on.." into the distance.

Hahhahaha I believe it is entertaining through the "evil becomes good" factor and challenges the question of life after death? >< TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK. I'm scared that it's too teen-angsty or cliched. Oohoh and anyone else who decides to base their story on an MCR song shall suffer severe injury inflicted by yours truly.

Hm it's that or a EXTREMELY LONG parody of Romeo and Juliet, aka "ROO-MEE-OH and JOO-LEE-YEH", which is about arranged Chinese marriages where Juliet's mom wants her to marry a rich accountant with a bald/receding haircut, but Joo-Lee-Yeh wants to marry her next door neighbour Roo-Mee-Oh. But Joo's mom hates Romeo's family as both families own Chinese takeaway restuarants and Romeo's family stole Juliet's family sharkfin soup recipes from dynasties ago (PREFERABLY LIU DYNASTY). And then in the end Juliet's mom attempts to kill Romeo by inviting him over for dumplings and poisoning his food, but however she accidently eats it herself and dies - ROOMEEOH and JOOLEEYEH happily ever after! ^^

Omg so lame and sterotypical. ><

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Mock trial yesterday! I stayed til the end with Matt and Eric, scabbing timtams and nuts, which was a great success. =) And then we attempted to socialise with the "magistrate," who is actually a real-life barrister. Except the socialising part basically invovled Matt conversing with that guy while Eric and I stood around nodding politely like we knew what they were on about.

And during the mock trial my phone rang! Fudge it was so embarrassing, as it was all quiet while the DEFENDANT was cross-examinating the WITNESS, and then suddenly this very loud gangster Step Up song starts blasting out from right outside the door. Omg and then I just sprinted outta there at 10000000km/hr, grabbing my bag with me and feeling like a complete loser. *beetroot face*

Ah it's really late now so I'ma go SLEEPYTIMES.

Goodnight sleep tight,
don't smoke too much bong tonighttt..

xx.
George.

PS. HAPPY BIRTHDAY DANIEL! =D