An arsenal of rage

My dad says that luck is bullshit. I don’t. I have believed in this thing I have now confirmed is luck sense I was little. I don’t believe the world will not screw me over because I’m a good person. That’s like believing that the bull won’t attack because I’m a vegetarian. That is just bullshit. Neither do I believe in destiny and fate. I believe that we set our own path by the choices we make along the way.
Things like the fact that my mother has cancer I believe was invisibly inevitable from the beginning. It was just always going to happen. Why or how doesn’t matter to me. It just is what it is and quite frankly that enrages me. The whole diagnosis fill me with chained rage that fills my veins. My rage isn’t pointed at anything in particular. Not my mother, not the doctor who told my mother, not my dad. Maybe I’m enraged at the cancer itself. But in truth I don’t really care. The fact is, it’s there and I just sits in my head and in my heart and does absolutely nothing helpful. I am so monumentally pissed off about the whole affair that I have gone through the week growling at absolutely everyone. Except those who I have deemed safe of course. My teachers have gone through the week looking at me strangely as have moodily stared out the window trying to control my rapidly firing temper from the people that don’t deserve it’s fiery wrath. I have reason to believe that I am going to have to go to school on Monday and grudgingly apologise to my entire school. I has just become clear to me as I lye in my bed on this Saturday morning at 6:39am. I’m still angry. If nothing I’m still furious, but I believe that before I was fighting that anger by pushing it back. There is something about waking up on a morning that you are meant to sleep in on. And so before my eyes were even open I just decided to accept the fact that I was angry instead of trying to convince myself I’m not. If I can imagine my temper as being a monster, I would of seen yesterday a large beast tried to the was with a child’s hair ribbon. Easily broken and easily out of control. Now I seems large black beast chained to the wall, solidly chained into the corner. Hopefully it won’t be fed anything for a little while.
For now this monster inside of me is still raging horribly and I can already tell that for the next few weeks it will, in most senses, be the beast in me.

Here I am, strangely not where I used to be

I have always liked to think of myself as a bubble person. I live in my own personal bubble where I can keep everyone and everything that has ‘overwhelming’ stamped over there heads at a distance.
A few minutes ago I found myself in bed listening to music and reading. I have no idea how on earth I got here. But I seem to know what is happening in the book and the song I listened to before this one. This is generally how I spend my day. Blipping involuntarily in and out of mental presence. Some would call it day dreaming, but really it’s more like a small amount of peaceful calm. I know and understand what’s going on around me. If anything I notice more than when I’m really focusing on something. My brain just doesn’t register the situation as worthy of my full attention. So I just go on with whatever I’m doing without actually doing it at all.
To some people this is vagueness and something that needs to be fixed. To me it’s just the fact that I have the ability to go into a situation on auto drive and others don’t. It others its unresponsive and slow and something to be fixed. To me it’s just me clicking into gear after being briefly in a grateful escape from reality.
I’m relatively smart, I get good grades. In general my school life is completely unaffected by the fact that I stare out the window the large majority of the time. I don’t know how I gained the information I was being taught. I just gained it. It was said outside my bubble and it somehow my brain picked it out of the air, deemed it interesting or at least useful in the near distant future and decided it was worth the effort of analysis and storing.
This is just the way I am and I don’t think that even if I tried I would be able to change. It would be as pointless as trying to change the colour of my eyes on will power alone. It’s just the way I am and always will be.

I can do anything, what can you do?

One of the greatest blessings of humanity is that if I want something I can always find a way to achieve if I want it badly enough. If I want to fly you can bet your butt that I’m going to find a way to fly. It doesn’t matter how long it takes, I can figure it out.
At some points in time it can feel like you have no choice, but there is always a choice. Just because nobody lays out the options for you or actively gives one to you doesn’t mean it’s not there. Just hidden among the situation.
In this life I can do what ever I like, even if someone tells me I can’t. Every endeavour and journey in within human reach if someone were to just try hard enough.
We are all free to choose our path or even create our own into the wild, chaotic unknown, but unfortunately we are not free of the consequences but here’s the cheat. If you want out hard enough then you can get yourself out, this the basis of human nature. A complete and absolute disregard for the limits of human abilities. Confidence is almost always only 10% hard work and 90% delusion.

I want what I want

I want…
I want to be rich and have a lot of money. With lots of books and clothes and fuck loads of diamonds. I want a big flashy house with the biggest library in the centre. With classic and ancient literature. And old novels and new novels and war books and history books and mythology books. I want my huge house to be surrounded by gardens. Sculpture gardens. And orchards and wineries and it must have great weather and thunderstorms. And there must be a beach. A beach with pale yellow sand and crimson crabs that scuttle away at your approach. And aqua a sea perfect for snorkelling. And I want it to be on a Greek island. Yeah, I want a Greek island and fuck loads of diamonds.
But maybe I want…
Maybe want a little one room apartment in the big city. And my apartment must have a balcony so that I can watch the little people going on with their everyday lives, completely unaware of a girl watching them from above. It must be u so high that I can see the skyscrapers light up and glow in the night, but close enough to the ground so that I can hear the city ticking by below when I go to sleep. So that I can hear the taxis and the cars going about their business as if it were as bright as day. And all below my one room apartment I want there to be little bookshops with kind owners with stories to tell me. And I want to walk past my other occupants and say good morning every morning without ever knowing their names.
Or perhaps I want…
I want a little house above a music and records store. And I would work in this store in this small suburban town where everybody knows everybody and even if you don’t know them you’ll act like you do. A little place where I can live of spaghetti and coke for the rest of my life. And I would have home-made pieces of artworks fluttering about the walls and I would listen to obnoxiously loud music and nobody would care. I would be the girl who lives above the music store. And the owner of the store would be my best friend that always seemed to have warm drinks around the place. And the drama ps of my life would keep my unendingly entertained and I would also probably live with one of my sisters.
But then again…
I want a tiny ramshackle shack in the middle of nowhere. Surrounded by the bush where you have to drive for six hours to get Macdonald’s. And their would be no people, just me and the birds living silently but happily. And I would want my paints to be there, so that I can go out and explore my land of nowhere. I would go out from time to time, searching for friendship or maybe even courtship.

I would love to live these scenarios but they are all missing the things that the others have. What one doesn’t have the other three possess. I can’t put my loud music on a Greek island in my huge house, it just doesn’t fit. And I can have millions of books in my house above the music store, that doesn’t fit either. When I find my place where all of the things I value most I will settle but until then I will go from place to place depending on what mood I’m in.
(Despite all that the likelihood that idea that I will ever settle is propitious, for I am not exactly the most settled soul, but grounded I am)


I can deal with a lot. Spiders, rats, bugs, math tests, spooky houses, the ocean, heights, fun park rides, graveyards, alien invaders, late home work that I should be freaking out about and especially I can deal with mice.
Mice are small, practical little creatures. I can predict what their going to do and that somewhat gives me piece of mind. There is a story behind the mouse statement but I feel no need to tell this story on the Internet. When it comes to fears I came out pretty good. But like everyone I suppose I have that on great fear. It’s not a classic, I’ll give you that. I am solely afraid of the enemy that doesn’t show itself. I am truly terrified of an enemy that won’t come at me full throttle.
I am a gun blazing kind of person. When it come to emergencies or even the odd late assignment you can bet I’m not going to be the one rushing about freaking. I am calm when it comes to dangerous thing, I even delight in them sometimes. But I absolutely cannot deal with something that plays with me.
Instead of having nightmares about the traditional things like walking threw a wood at night, I dream of figures darting in and out of shadows never truly showing themselves. Taunting me with the fact that I can’t do anything because I am so scared I can’t breath let along move.

Misguided rage and fretful mistrustings

I live in an enraged world. My life is a whirlwind of mistaken thoughts, manipulated actions and rage that swirls an angry red around people minds, but having no thought of where it came from or to whom they are to point it at.
My house lives in a first world country. I eat three meals every day. I get a good education in academics and other things along the way. I have everything I need to become anything I want. Here we all see the other people, living on other worlds with other foods and other problems and other cancers. Weather it is on the news or in the town square or the big cities that always have rubbish on the curb we all feel that feeling. That mix of mistrust and pity. And you have to think, why do I not trust you, crying child or old, broken man? Why do I not want to take you into my house and let you feast of what I have earned?
I think that it is because we are all terrified of losing what we have. Could we live without our gadgets and two-minute noodles? When we see those other people in their separate worlds they always look sad but content. They are at the bottom and can only go up. They are unafraid of losing because they have been taught since birth that they can deal with anything. Once you have reached the bottom you have the unique ability to deal with anything the world throws at you, because you have lived threw something worse. To me that sounds liberating.
I pride myself on not being afraid of falling from my high level as a middle class white girl living in a warm friendly house filled with nice people and good food. My abilities as a human rather than my status as a human tells me that I am capable of anything if I let myself work at it hard enough. I can do anything I want with my life. I could be rich and mad by the time I’m twenty or poor and happy when I reach sixty. As yet I am not sure which one I wish for more nor do I intend to find out. If there is one thing I have learnt and with to teach is that we will all fall to a point that seems to low to climb back up and that none of us will ever get a harness and the more you have t more have to carry and keep going.
‘We are all in the same game just different levels; dealing with the same hell just different devils’