I don’t know where this went

Mum says I shouldn’t write this. She said that I will write bad because I’m tired, or at least that’s what I’m guessing. She used a word starting with the letter P. I don’t know what meant, I can’t pronounce and I can’t spell. Sometimes people assume I have swallowed a dictionary, because I occasionally use words that sound like they have come straight from the Victorian era. This can be both annoying and charming.
Unfortunately for my mother, at least, I am stubborn and am really bad at doing what I probably should. I wanted to make this post about writing but I seem to of gotten off track. I can’t say that this is a particularly unusual thing for me. I start out thinking about something really important and then it’s gone. Vanished the thing you were just holding and all I am left with in the knowledge that it was really important.
I am sitting on the deck and it is dark and cold, but I am wrapped in a blanket that has green and red and matches my crimson headphones and the porch light in looking down on me. I can see the streetlights going over the bridge in the near distance. Mum’s ikea birds are sitting in the tree in our back yard like bird shaped stars. They are illuminated by little bulbs that look like little glowing hearts. That is both a clichéd and whimsical thought. Dad’s prayer flags that he brought back from Nepal are gently swaying in a breeze I can’t feel. The sky is not yet black but I doubt that colour is far away in the distance. Night is here but it has not yet taken us. One day dad brought home little disco balls to hang on the deck. They are twinkling happily at me. The bamboo wind chime is hanging a little ways a way from me as I sit. It sways like the prayer flags.
I always root for the underdog. Always. I don’t know why and I am always disappointed when they lose, but I can’t help it. It isn’t a voluntary thought. While I really don’t care for winning when I’m personally involved I can’t help but wish other people happiness and if winning is going to make you happy, go for you life.
I’ll root for you.
Something I have leant while going through cancerous period in my life is that I am completely indifferent to death. I believe that it is far braver to suffer than to die, but to be brave there has to be something painful to be brave against. Don’t get me wrong here, I don’t take death lightly. I just don’t care for the idea. My mortality is, as far as I’m concerned, only my business of I make it that way. I’m going to die. My family is going to die. My friends are going to die. Yes, this topic can be incredibly morbid, but fuck. There is so little we can do about it. As an atheist I don’t believe in heaven or hell, nor do I think there such fabulous ideas and in general I choose not to speculate about the great beyond, but I do ponder death. Not because it is morbid and scary, but because it is interesting. I’m much more interested in the ways of which we go than the even itself. In the end the same damn thing happens, the reasons why can be tantalising, but naturally sad.
I view cancer as kind of internal terrorism and that suck shit balls, but hell, it’s in my life, there is nothing I can do about that so the best thing I can do is figure out why.
Once again my thoughts have strayed from their original course, but I doubt I would have gotten far with my initial topic of choice. I wonder if I am writing in the way Mum said I would. I can’t tell but if I am I apologise, but if I’m not they I hope that this piece of writing does something good. I can’t think what but as long as it has a good effect on something I really don’t care.
When I was in year one I had a year of wandering. The teacher was really into talking to us about the most mundane things like why our parents might serve us veggies or why we shouldn’t go to the bathroom on our own. In general this was how we spent our mornings and afternoons. The other kids were happy because, well, we weren’t really doing any actual work, but I was seven and bored shitless. After a little while of almost falling asleep with the boredom of things I already knew being spelt out to me I did what bored seven years olds do I snuck out of class. I realise now that this probably wasn’t one of my wisest moves, but I never got caught, so what the hell? It wasn’t actually as difficult as you would think. All you had to do was back up while the teacher was chatting and sneak out to door as quietly as possible. I doubt the teacher even knew I was in her class by the end of the year. I never went out for very long, just long enough to gain the courage to come back in. Sometimes the teacher would ask where I had gone and I would tell her I had gone to the bathroom. She never questioned that. I don’t think I learnt anything that year. My year of wandering.
Last year my school held one of its many plats. The play was ‘The king and I’ naturally I went along because it meant I would get out of geography and science. All who have seen the play will know that the king dies at the end and while the king is on his death-bed he asks his eldest son who will be king after him what he will do for the new year ceremony to which the son replies “I will hold boat races” when the king asks why the boy answers “because I like boat races”. While watching this I thought ‘yup, that how I’m going to live my life, because I like it’.
Once again I have noticed that I have let this go one and perhaps I am droning but whatever. I will publish this anyway and see what happens.
When ever I think this it never ends in a good place.
Oh well.

Rules are rules but they don’t have to be

In my personal experience I have learnt that everybody is a rebel, Everybody has to at some point go against the rules. Sometimes because they’re stupid and pointless and sometimes because they are in the way of where you need to be. Some people rebel against the rules loudly. They scream out that they are breaking the rules. Making a point of giving the rules less or more respect than they deserve. Yes, you can rebel against the rules by doing exactly as they say. Doing what the fine print says but not doing what the rule implies. It’s basically the art of insulting the rule while smiling sweetly.
Other rebels do it quietly. Slipping under the door rather than bashing it down. I would like to think of my self as somebody like this as I am not openly rude to anyone but still I am quite loud when I need to prove a point that usually turns out to be wrong in the first place. This is the art of rebelling against the rule, rather than the enforcer or the creator.
To be a rebel you need to know the rules instead of doing what is morally wrong, just to piss someone off. To me a rebel is someone who can stand up against what is wrong fort he purpose that it is stupid or oppressive or just plainly rude and not the ones that are there to keep us safe, not someone who would be openly disrespectful to something because they’re bored or upset.
The human race is filled with people who want to keep everyone safe, it’s human nature and sometimes the rules go overboard and its good to stand up and say that as long as you take others into account.

The tiniest things vs the slow-mo moments

In real life, the life beyond the love stories and the happy endings, you don’t get the slow-mo moments. You don’t get time to think before you hit the floor. You don’t get time to think when somebody asks you something you hadn’t seem coming. As an avid book reader I know that there is usually a paragraph between after somebody says something and before the main character responds. A paragraph filled with thoughts and feelings and startings of sentences.This would normally take a good fifteen minutes to process in the real world but it is all jammed into a few seconds in the book. Unlike the books we, as real people dealing with other real people, have to deal with life head on. We don’t have the slow-mo moments like fictional characters do. We just don’t have that ability. Time takes as much time as it needs and keeps consistent with that. It doesn’t slow down and it doesn’t speed up but takes that same amount of time.
As for the myth about tiny things, like in books where the main charter has this whole story to tell on this tiny detail. We have the better half of this. As humans we notice a good load of everything. It’s programmed into our brains. It’s a survival instinct to notice. And it even has its own personal process; First you notice something then it swirls around in your brain for a bit wondering what to do with itself now its there until it starts linking itself to other things swirling about the place. For example I often look up at the celling of my room that has been cut into eight pieces using long pieces of timber. I have always silently thought of ‘windows’, no big story, no huge drama. Just windows,
As human beings we have to deal guns blazing with the world. We don’t have the luxury to transport to another dimension to think about it for a bit. We can’t be bothered to think of big semimetal stories to add to our personal feat of noticing something that reminds you of another thing. Have a good long look at the people in movies and books and see how they’re freaking out, well we have to deal with it all without the added luxuries. Compared to them we are the most composed people ever.

Doing just fine thanks

It’s odd isn’t it. It’s odd how when I’m loud people tell me to be quiet and when I’m quiet people ask whats wrong. It’s odd how when I’m social I stop being me and become a stereotype but when I’m being not social I’m being antisocial and uncooperative.
How am I supposed to get that? I am an INTROVERT. I am perfectly capable at being social I just DON’T want to. Don’t get me wrong i like people I just don’t like them all the time.
My company is enough for me. When I come home from school I am not going to smile and sit with my sisters or whatever people do, I am going to sit in my room and think and plan and read and write and do what I do.
It’s like needing breathing space. I can’t breath right when I have to perform for people and most of the time I just down right refuse. Where some people have tv or friends (I do have friends and lots of them by the way) I have a hell of a load of books and a brain I enjoy using. That’s how I deal with who I am. It how I deal with stress or unhappiness. I don’t need to see anyone about it. I’m not going to talk it out, I’m not even going to try and fix it, because it doesn’t need to be fixed.
Sometimes it feels like I’m some defective robot, with all the disapproving glares I get you would think I have started taking drugs in my room or sneaking out at night or something like that. I don’t think the people around me understand how much that gets to me. My closest friends and family members are constantly trying to fix me. Dora tries to tell me how to dress on clothes I would rather impale myself on a rusty spike than where in public. I’m always getting hissed at by my best friend if I haven’t brushed my hair or I’ve said something wrong. My mothers is always giving me endless speeches on how I need to get out of my room more and how it will do me good and so on and so on.
But what people don’t get is that I don’t want to. I don’t want to get fixed. I get that I have a few things I could work on but on all else this is who I am and who I am cool with being.
Not mad.
Nor depressed.
Or antisocial.
Just need no to talk to anyone for a bit.
And that’s okay with me.
Deal. 😉

We Gotta’ fix this!

Recently America hasn’t been…how do I put this delicately … on top of the whole gun thing as almost everyone knows, with the whole teacher, cinema and the fireman christmas…er incedeints. In my expirence (God knows I don’t have very much) people think very highly of themselves when it comes to acting on things such as this, but really it’s one of our greatest downfalls and there really isn’t much else to it. Nobody ever likes to point this out because most of us think that we’re so fan-flipping-tastic at the whole fast and furious game that you to see it at all and the one in a million people are to embaressed that they think that way. Proof of this in any historical violence moment as soon might say, even modorn history states that the human race is really bad at reacting.
In the Holocoust the germans living in Germany when Hitler was taking the jews away really just shut the curtains on the jews and the approching war and baciacally said: “If we can’t see it, it isn’t there” I think you will agree that that system didn’t really go to plan, but yet again they threatened with guns, Australia just dosen’t want to make a fight over as far as some people want see it a typical gun problem.
Lets face it, Peace Keeping Sucks For Everyone.
We live in the era of you can pop down to walmart and buy a gun, forgive me if I’m wrong but huh!?!??! I just don’t get that. People die in wars and we put ourselves higher than the popele who fight against us becuse they have worse resorses. Well..er if you don’t remember lets recap, all of us have the same problems!!
We are just simply better at hidding it. We have poeple living on the streets so do they whoever they may be. We fight with guns and tech so do they. We are all traped in the continuous loop of fighting because of the same problems, we just have diffrent values thats all.

We are impossibly strong when we band together history proves that perfectly, we just have to fix our wishes to live for our values and fight over the problems.