"you have something to say, and i believe you should say it. say it now, scream it if you must, but get it off your chest now, otherwise it might bury itself in too deep to ever be dislodged from your throat"
"do i? or do you simple want something of a more interesting conversation? sick of the same ol', repetitious tongue-wag that graces you every day, you want something of an unexpected, exciting expression of the unknown dwellings that reside inside my head? well, i must tell you that they are unknown for a reason."
"so you do have something rugged up, why would you bother keeping it hidden? isn't it much easier to just let it out? to let the thoughts flow into words, into sentences, into stories, into an ultimate release and relief of internalized burden? and if there truly is a reason they are unknown, can you not tell me that?"
"the reason they shall remain unknown to you is that they are unknown to me. now while i respond to your passionate search of something meaningful, why don't we spare yourself some time for a little introspection of your own? instead of this dribble of disguised notions, cough up what obviously must be stuck in your throat"
"this is going no where"
"i think i must agree, did you fully understand where you hoped to go with this? i mean, you haven't given either of us names"
"yes, i think that is rather lazy of you. this dialogue also leaves something to be desired, i mean, are we truly meant to ignore what the other is saying? it seems quite presumptuous."
"that's a bit cruel, i didn't know if i was meant to known where i was going. am i? like really guys, it's basically free writing"
"free writing? ha! would you like us to move at all? maybe a few descriptions, a couple of verbs here and there wouldn't help, should the audience just assume that we are two english gentlemen out for a stroll under a gray sky, atop of luscious green grass?"
"or lovers entangled with linen trying to know each other more?"
"well i think that should be up to the reader, it's not like this is some extensive novel"
"american literates, whispering viciously in a grand library, nearly at each others throats?"
"are we just figments of your imagination?"
"creations of the conscious?"
"desires of the unconscious?"
"am i even part of this conversation?"
"a little from column A?"
"a little from column B?"
"none of the above? do you honestly expect people to envision everything with only this boring conversation to go by?"
"are you listening? i thought most people did it without thinking, even when given cues, you can interpret them different ways"
"we are, but has that really got anything to do with what you set out to write?"
"what you wanted to vanquish from your soul?"
"i wanted to vanquish something from my soul?"
"why else would you write? what else do you write about?"
"except from yourself and the people you're not"
"what?"
"you can't possibly not be following what we are inferring here, you are the one writing it"
"carving out of your own beliefs, fantasies and what you perceive to be real and, the more dominant, surreal, sculpting into something that you can post up and pretend it's you"
"are you having a go at me"
"no, you are merely having "a go" at yourself, struggling with self-esteem in your writing, feeling inept to offer help or guidance to others because you're too involved in yourself and trying to squeeze attention out people you can't even spare a moment for"
"merely?"
"nothing more, purely, no admixture. plainly if you wish."
"plainly?"
"you ask too many questions, you make us ask too many questions, get over the self identity issue already, it's boring"
"snore"
"i do believe you have become somewhat less literate mr red"
"oh do forgive me mr blue, it seems she is tiring of this poor pun at beating herself up with the words she can mask as someone else."
"that is quite alright, i do concur that she has become lethargic in her expression, so how about we enjoy ourselves some tea?"
"i don't really like black tea"
"we're not really including you in this"
"oh, my apologies"



waste of time

breakdown of communication... well i guess it had to exist first to actually then breakdown, so really it's just lacking all together.
okay, rant time. so after the separation the plan was my sister and i would spend one week at mum's and one week at dad's, a plan we were kind of forced into, but anyway. that stopped about four months ago when dad started doing afternoon shifts and there was no point going over there because we'd leave before he got up, come home after he left for work and be asleep when he got home. we were sick of the whole moving our lives every second week, i personally think a year and seven months is quite enough to put up with that. well then dad went back to his normal shifts, and expected the routine to go back to "normal", which sis and i were completely opposed to, and so we responded the way we normally do when dad is totally off the mark, remain silent and hope it goes away, until mum usually speaks for us (they're still on good speaking terms), using gentle words and reasoning that doesn't show dad to be at fault. it's a fantastically cowardly system, but it works well. but now i really have to talk to him, and it isn't going to be nice for anyone, because he has arranged my birthday dinner to be at his place on my actual birthday, which happens to be a friday night. so my reasons for absolutly hating this "kind gesture" are 1. he didn't ask me 2. he sent me the same sms as my other three siblings, telling us that dinner was at his for my birthday 3. sent it around the first of october even though my birthday isn't until the 16th of november, giving him the right to say "it's not like i didn't give you enough notice" and cornering me into going because i hadn't even thought about my birthday and the fact that it is impossible to organize people my age that far in advance, and as if i would? 4. hasn't mentioned it since, meaning i will have to bring it up 5. i know he'll cook a roast, it's all he cooks for "special events", and i don't want a roast (i can draw the line here, it is my birthday) 6. the whole thing just makes me angry, which then makes me annoyed because i feel like crap because i'm being all cold while dad is "trying" and feel like a selfish little shit for looking at it only how it'll inconvenience me. me me me. but it's my birthday. i want just one day...
gah... don't sympathise with me, it'll just make me feel worse, and i'm feeling very egocentric right now.

in psych a couple of lectures ago we were looking at attributional styles, which basically focuses how people explain negative events. So there are these three main dimensions we were presented with; internal vs external, stable vs unstable, and global (as in the whole of the person) vs specific. So say i did badly on my psych essay (i actually got a H2A, whoo!), and my explanation was that "i'm just not very good at psychology", that would be internal (blame directed internally), stable (state of "not very good" is relatively constant, not like a mood) and specific (confined to psychology). and supposedly people usually follow the same kind of structure with different negative events. anyway, not that you really needed me to explain it, but just for some foundation. i think it's reasonably normal to internally scrutinize over one's own explanations/excuses (but then i might be more introspective than the norm), but now i have these labels it's really hard not to use them, and then try to change my excuses so they don't sound internal-stable-global (suggesting pessimistic or depressed outlook). ignoring that i'm mediating my responses to people who really wouldn't know these categories or use them, i feel kind of disappointed in myself for mediating them at all. i mean, i'm not totally against conforming, i wouldn't drive without road rules (irrelevant, but i just wanted to say i got my p's last week), but i really don't like labels dictating how i think and act. i know as humans we can't really function or communicate without them, they still shit me up the wall. i guess i'm just trying prove nothing to someone, or something to no one. yeah... well i'm definitely human...


i want a t-shirt that says; "i'm so over ego-centric t-shirts"

the first thing Mary saw when she woke-up every morning was the photo of her and Mark, hand in hand in front of a glorious sunset, a really touristy snapshot that really could have been any couple's photo clipped from a travel magazine. she would roll to the other side of the bed, hoping that he might still be there and he'd catch her in his warm embrace. But all she met today was the rest of the bed linen, noticeably colder than that of the spot where she had slept.
"Mark must've gone out on his morning run earlier than usual" she thought to herself, glancing at the alarm clock resting silently on the bedside table. freeing herself of the bedsheets she had wrapped around herself by rolling over, she pulled herself out of bed and half-stumbled towards the kitchen. she opened the fridge, had a quick look and closed it. realizing she hadn't registered what she had seen at all, she opened the fridge again and searched for breakfast.
"eggs sound good today, I'll only have one, but Mark'll probably want two." she muttered to herself, picking up the egg carton. deciding on sunny-side up, she cracked the eggs into the frying pan and popped some bread into the toaster. It wasn't long until it was ready, the smell filling the kitchen. Mary put down the two plates at the table and glanced around at the clock.
"Mark would usually be home by now... he won't care if i start without him though" she thought to herself sitting down and picking up her knife and fork. She took about ten minutes to eat it, pacing herself so that she would have a greater chance of having breakfast with Mark, and stayed waiting at the table for nearly an hour before getting up.
"He must've gone straight to work... but now these eggs are cold, i'll chop them up and put them with dinner tonight..." she muttered out-loud. But Mark would never eat the eggs, because Mark didn't exist, because in actual fact, the bedside photo was indeed cut out of a magazine.

back at uni and striped of all impulses of wasting time... well except for those 3hrs painting a t-shirt... and that hour spent just cruising on the train... and those couple of hours playing new super mario... and the train ride reading the paper... and watching two episodes of bleach... and writing this post... hahaha, i'll just convince myself it isn't wasting my time, it's just spending it. i needed to spend that time so it's justfied... maybe...


whatever makes you feel real...