I managed to get to bed at a reasonable time considering I was in a complely different time zone over the holidays. Everything shifts forwards; it’s my natural state - up till one in the morning and then up again at 11. I could make a great shift worker one day. I even got in some last minute singing practice while I painted my nails. And I negotiated the morning rush with perfect competence. This was needed as I refused to set my alarm and had exactly 14 minutes to get dressed, make and drink one essential coffee, make food for the whole day, do my hair and make up, pack my bag, eat breakfast and brush my teeth. But I managed, due to the fact that I am the master of this tight schedule after 5 years and that I planned my lunch the might before and I am eating my breakfast (one large muesli bar) right now, on the bus.
But this was what I wasn’t ready for. The noise. I once said that if I was a poet, given the choice of an isolated cottage in the woods or a modern new work apartment to write in, I would pick the apartment. But it’s something you become accustomed to. I walked onto my bus this morning and it just hit me like a wave. I couldn’t hear myself think for near half an hour.
“My speech on the stolen generation. Sto sta sto sto stol stolen generation. Kevin Rudd. You’re a bitch. And he said to me like. Wasn’t at footy training. Totally sick. Idiot. Yes. Great score. Didn’t do anything. What. Yep. No. Nufin. Eagle laid. Sto sto sto stolen generation...”
And when my mind did return I immediately felt like blogging. I am creating a true mobile (phone) blog.
Now I am standing in the lobby thing talking to my friends. They’re talking about computer games, as usual. We have a new trainee home group guy. I have my phone out in the middle of class and no-one cares. I haven’t got a chance to check my email today, even though with my bus I always end up at school 40 minutes early – the library ladies kicked us out early.
Did you know that you can now Google “The Harrington Files” and find me? That’s so cool. I was telling one of my friends how good that was, and they weren’t impressed. But I think that’s pretty big, it is the biggest search engine and it found ME and all my posts.
I’ve never noticed how much of everything is SO powder blue around here. It’s sickening. Two girls, one taking a ride on her boyfriend’s bike, just made a special effort to slow down when they say me to all me a ‘lesbian whore!’ which is lovely, but that’s what it’s like around here.
The girl’s toilets smelt of tailor-made cigarettes, which they hardly ever do actually. I don’t mind that grungy smell, that and the fresh powder blue paint is a bit of a classic. Like how cigarettes and coffee fit so well with the poetry atmosphere. I think I’ll remember that smell, with make up and permanent marker - it IS high school. I think I will miss it all somehow, the teachers, the smells, the better memories. It’s big. Of course it is now, since its 10 hours of my life 5 days a week. But I always acknowledged it in a detached way before, and I think I will continue to do so, carrying it with me with that same distant fondness I have for my old friend.
Ooh I just checked my email again and I have comments. Yay! It’s so cool that I almost rely on that.
Depressive realism, eiy? I like it, a like it a lot. I would have to agree that slightly depressed people do have a more objective view. Whether that has to do with the actual state that they are in or the place from which they project their observations - I don’t know. But it seems a good theory. As for MySpace... If I was even slightly more melodramatic I would say that that place freaks me out. I was looking for a friend of mine, who used it have MySpace and blogs and I couldn’t find her with her name. So I searched or the name of one of her friends and there were pages upon pages of people with the same name. Some with the same age and everything but they looked different and lived in the
I could try it out, but it’s a pain having two pages. I think one is more likely to get random passers-by on MySpace than they are on Blogger. Which is an experience in itself. I don’t think that if no-one was reading I’d stop. I’m not sure whether this makes me admirably determined, or suspiciously selfish. I did keep up one that wasn’t even posted on the net. But I don’t think that it would be as good, that I’d bother with all the detail if it no-one was reading, or I didn’t still believe that someone would.
“Sometimes I tilt my head sideways so I can fit more in my mouth.” a random quote at lunchtime from my friend. I’m enjoying my Swiss cheese sandwich and fruit cake.
And in the next session I have lost my USB drive. I hate the cameras watching every room in this place, but I certainly feel safer when shit like that happens. Three or four times I have bothered the teachers about losing my flash drive or mp3 player. I hope they can find it this time... Did I mention I was terrible with losing stuff? Or rather all too good at it? And that my drive has a copy of my blog on it, and a poem and photos? I’ve been saved twice by nice people, but the third time is the charm. They still haven’t found it yet. He only checked the tapes after everyone went home and they didn’t get a very good picture. So this possibly evil person is going to have my flash drive, my blog and all my other important things for THE WHOLE NIGHT and they’ll probably wipe it.
Which isn’t even what I’m most concerned about. What if they go through all my stuff? Or copy and KEEP it? That makes my skin crawl. Or they keep the whole thing? Deny ever taking it knowing that there isn’t concrete video evidence. Then what? I’m screwed. And it’s not like when I lost that 64MB drive - which had all my songs on it - because they were saved as foreign .wps files that only someone with Microsoft Works can open. And I just realised that drive had all my Sims 2 game files in it. If they know how to treat the files they can look at all the Sims characters and events that I have ever made. Another creepy intrusion. I’m not going to sleep well tonight. I know the boys who supposedly stole it. They were sitting right next to me. Then they moved over after I left and ruined my day... I’m waiting for the bus to take me home. My pockets are empty.
I remember how the place smelled on my first day. And how low the ceilings were... How fast and strange the whole thing was. I have a test tomorrow and I am supposed to concentrate in it with all of this going on. Did I tell you that I didn’t have to do it last term because of my excruciating back pain? That was so nice of my teachers. And now this, it’s just destined to not go well. I got 28 out of 30 in English; I couldn’t help but wonder what cost me two marks.
I found a course. But it’s a ‘real proper music course’. I’m talking interview, musicianship test, audition, sight reading test, complete academic record and references. I have about a two percent chance. The 20/50 in English is easy, but I can’t do anything musical. This is where I am trying to go to learn. If I could sight read, perform two contrasting works of my own creation and had a level six in whatever the hell it is in music that determines such proficiency – then I wouldn’t need the damn course! The course structure is a dream though. Albeit a very far off one. There are simpler more basic ones, but they require nearly the same things and read exactly like a boring standard issue TAFE course. I really don’t know what to do next. I know what I want out of it all, but not what comes after high school. I just want to exist really. My mother has said that I among other people, am sacred of change. So is a person still sacred of change if they only like the semi-planned for-the-better type? Because this unexpected possibly life stalling change is not my type of thing at all.
The noise. The noise the noise.
“She’s saying I like someone I don’t. Josh. Josh. Josh! No serious, I broke it. Can I look at your phone. We did like, so many of them. I told him so. Oi pass it here. The crisscrosses over here. Josh. Josh. I seen one in
School is all I have ever known. Studying. The bus. Holidays. Teachers. Homework. I know you’ve all done and heard this before. This really isn’t anything new. I should be ready for this. I’ve been looking forward to it since I was seven. I’ve been planning it since I was thirteen. Visualise right? Carl Yung says visualise and it shall be yours? Maybe not that simply, but its part of the process.
You know when someone leaves a reality TV program people act like that person has died? Idol, Survivor, The Biggest Loser, Big Brother especially. This is like that. It’s not the end, I’ve just been voted off. Time to start my life on the outside...
I can feel this blog drawing to a close as I make my way home to my computer to off load it from my phone before the battery goes.
A dip of the hat and a good afternoon to you all.
☆Anika☆
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