-About a Girl-

Tuesday, March 28, 2006



I just read Diana's post priorities, and I must say I know how that feels. I just wish I had the self control and time to go out and make things happen for myself, but I don't.

I never thought I would say this but...Year 11 is so bloody hard.

Ok well, maybe hard is not the word, its more like there's a stupid crazy amount of work to do. Thank goodness I'm loving everything. Math, especially.

Cos there's always a right answer, you're either right or wrong, no in between, nothing's left to a matter of opinion or whether the teacher likes you or not. ( For the record, my math teacher is like, the coolest.)

The only subject I absolutely despise is English. Yep, english, the one subject I used to love to death, that I couldn't get enough of, immensing myself in all that literature, just reading reading reading everything..Shakespeare, the Brontes, William Butler Yeats, bla bla bla...Now I just fucking hate it. Granted, I read alot, but I try not to pick up books on the bestsellers lists, books that everyone and their mother's read, simply because in the end its all the same. Read: I HATE MAINSTREAM LITERATURE.

I hate reading it, I hate watching movies based on it, I hate having to then read it over and over and over again studying every single aspect of it, analysing the techniques used, how it conveys the notion of conflict bla bla bla bla I DON'T GIVE A SHIT. Fuck, I'm not even doing so well. I got 8 out of 15 for my first assignment, with the comments, "Kimberley, you do write well, but you're only dealing with the text in a superficial way."

Why thank you very much miss, I don't exactly enjoy 5 weeks of english lessons dissecting the text of Macbeth, its friggin 500 years old, who cares anymore? I don't understand all that gibberish and its a stupid story anyway.

On top of all that, I'm so fucking stressed about everything, about the fact that I'm gona have to choose between going to Brazil and getting my own car, about the fact that I've lost my aussie passport AND my license logbook so both options are pretty pointless anyway, about the fact that I'm annoying the shit out of myself for being so emo about that motherfucker.

And I'm getting so annoyed at all the kids at St Marys even though I'm trying my damndest to be nice. There's just such a strong stereotype of kids who dress the same, have the same hair, talk in the same affected American try hard accent with their superficial "like oh my god we have the same bag!!!! you're my best friend!!!! Sorry whats your name again...?" attitudes, when deep down everyone's so damn competitive because its a selective school and we're only here for a short while. I'm not even gona pose the question as to WHY they're like that because I know the answer already : everyone is so bloody insecure and wants to look and feel popular and so they conform to the stupidest things.

Gosh, I'm so glad that I figured all that out already ages ago. I may be stressed out about school, fucked up from a relationship that was doomed from the start anyway, but at least I'm happy with myself, I know who I am and I know that I don't have to be just like the people around me to be accepted.

At least I have that.

Posted by Closet Groupie :: 1:58 PM :: 3 Comments:

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Sunday, March 19, 2006



Yes yes, I know I've been a very bad blogger and haven't been updating much, but I have good reasons.
Anywho, I was so sick I couldnt even go to school on friday. But come saturday night, it was Maddy's birthday party in Glenbrook, up in the mountains, and I was all revved up and ready to go. Oh and, there was a shisha. That belonged to this really cute guy that happens to be friends with steven (whom I dragged along as Designated Driver).

Nuff said.

And since I have a gazillion assignments to get done and have already maxed my brain out to the point of not being able to think of anything clever to say, I'll leave you with the Most Played list on my mp3.

So yeah, there's some old stuff for you to hang on to, some new stuff to go download. Its music. Its all good. =)

Because everyone loves an itemised post.

Posted by Closet Groupie :: 4:12 PM :: 5 Comments:

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Sunday, March 12, 2006

Miracle drug

Of science and the human heart
There is no limit
There is no failure here sweetheart
Just when you quit
Love and logic keep us clear
Reason is on our side, love...
The songs are in your eyes
I see them when you smile
I've had enough of romantic love
I'd give it up, yeah, I'd give it up
For a miracle, a miracle drug.
Beneath the noise
Below the din
I hear a voice
It's whispering
In science and in medicine
"I was a stranger
You took me in"
-Miracle drug, U2
Lately, I've been seriously considering going to Brazil, or somewhere in South America for an exchange student thingie for perhaps half a year or 3 months.
Yep, you read me right...Brazil. Land of cool crazy soccer, hot bods, Capoera, and beaches beaches beaches. Mmmmmm.
BRAZIL.
B-R-A-Z-I-L.
Yes, I really really want to go to Brazil.
Why? I need to get away. I'm so fucking sick of this...sick of feeling sorry for myself, sick of this heavy weight in my heart, sick of crying over something so ridiculous and someone so worthless, sick of thinking about it every fucking second. And I can't stop thinking about it if I stick around here.
Only problem is, its damn expensive, something like AUD 8,000...thats about RM 24, 000.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Crazy? Damn straight, but I really must do this for my own good and sanity.
And if you're gona tell me that doing this is just running away from my problems, well then I guess you're right. I AM running away. I'm the weaker and powerless one in this, what else can I do?
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Went with Sarah to Norton Street in Leichhart aka little italy today. Was supposed to watch the french movie "Story of my Life" or something like that, but ended up getting lost and eating yummy italian food instead. We met this very interesting guy on the train; like myself, he's a mish-mash of different cultures, but even more extreme: He's of chinese blood but comes from Mauritius and speaks French and African first and foremost, and so he speaks english with a french accent. Isn't that so damn quirky?

I love talking with people like Sarah, because we're on the same level and can relate about things, without compromising our respectives opinions.

So yes, more french movies, more pool, and 3 months of Brazil should fix me up just right.

Posted by Closet Groupie :: 6:36 PM :: 2 Comments:

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Saturday, March 11, 2006

The Right Thing

Tell me, people, what IS the right thing?

Why do they call it so?

Just because its morally, ethically, conformistically right, does not mean its the right thing to do. On one hand, we have our conscience, that tells us that all people are, really, human deep down, and that every conflict can be resolved through calm and rational, up front talk. No need for verocious insults or sarcastic comments. On the other hand, we have our hard, solid brains that tell us to go straight for where it hurts the most in order to make things right, because some people are just PLAIN SELFISH AND IMMATURE, and not worth the verbal formalities.

Now, I'm an extremely tolerant person. Alot of the people around me are motherfuckers, but I am nice to them anyway most of the time, not because I am stupid and cannot see that they're trying to take advantage of a sweet and courteous young woman, but because I know that its so much better in the long run to grin and bear, rather than to sink to their level. That way, its their loss, my gain.

But some people, a small miniscule part of society, don't deserve to be treated nicely by others, not even those who feel sorry for them because they work on weekends not because they are in dire need of the cash like myself, but because they choose to, as they have no friends and no life and wouldn't have anything better to do anyway.

I'm talking about doing the so-called 'right' thing here, when you already know the end result, and it isn't pretty. This is between, a certain workmate of mine, and me, and on my side is probably the hordes of customer's she's offended with her rudeness.

...I don't know why I even bothered talking nicely to her.

I knew she would get worked up.

I knew she would walk away, and rat me off to everyone else. Not that I care, its up to them to believe what they know is the truth.

I knew that, before she walked off, she would reply with a big, sarcastic, "I'm SORRY, then," and leave me feeling like shit, even though I knew I'd done the right thing.

Why? Why the fuck did I even bother trying to talk it out with her? A twenty year old acting like an prepubescent 12 year old brat is just fucking ridiculous and undeserving of any respect whatsoever. And now, I'm the one left feeling like the idiot, all because I listened to everyone else and 'did the right thing'.

I guess sometimes you gotta skip all first steps and go with what you know is gona result in something positive. Its a tremendously crappy feeling, knowing you've done the right thing, yet you just can't win. Just because its what everyone says is the right thing, doesn't necessarily mean its the best.

The right thing. Pffffffft.

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Tuesday, March 07, 2006

Transit officers and other little shits.

Oh gosh, I am in the penrith library, and there is this really weird guy with a mullet next to me staring at commodores (the cars) and vocally narrating every single one of his thoughts out loud. But that is not what I want to write about today.

I'm not an angry person. Really.

I am calm, collected, easy going, friendly, and I am a lover not a fighter. Ask anyone.

But we live in a ridiculous world today, a world where people don't understand the meaning of queueing up, where, even though you have your student ID, school books, everything, you need a stupid yellow card that doesn't get distributed until April anyway to pay a student fair for public transport.

Indeed, some things just piss the hell out of me, and when I get angry about things, I absolutely must rant about it.

Now, we all know about those infamous transit officers, those policemen-wannabes who walk around trains in their grey uniforms and belts full of fake guns and fake walkie talkies and other fake, important looking things, disturbing the peace on trains whenever they feel like it, just because they have nothing better to do.

As you can see, transit officers and I don't gel very well.

This morning, I got into a fight with one at the train station, who wanted to fine me for not having a rail pass (I hadn't collected mine yet, because the damn school office is always closed whenever I go).

Walking through the side gate, a transit officer with a weird nose blocked my way, asking for my train pass. I calmly (and very sweetly) took out my student ID which had my photo and name on it, to show that I was a student at St Marys. He wanted to see my rail pass.

I, once again very calmly, explained that I hadn't recieved my rail pass yet, but would very soon, and duly took out my driver's license, showing him my address to prove that I had to take a train to school. Not good enough, he says. Must have rail pass. No rail pass, will be fined.

This is when I started to get a bit edgy, as obviously I was just a poor student going to school, not some crazed drunk who didn't buy his ticket, dressing up as a student and taking advantage of the school rush hour. I explained this to him. But still not good enough, must have rail pass.

"I can fine you for travelling without a proper rail pass, yesterday was the last day for free travel..."

"Why would you do that? If I wanted to go somewhere for fun, I would've bought a ticket."

"How old are you?"

"Sixteen. And I'm late for school."

"You can be fined, you know."

Yes, you dumb assfuck, you only told me that about 184967574 times.

"Dude, how much proof do you need? I'm a student going to school. STUDENT." I pronounced the last word very slowly and loudly, in case he did not understand.

Further arguement ensued, and I attempted not to raise my voice. Assfuck proceeded to blab on about fines once again, completely oblivious to the fact that he was annoying the shit out of me.

"Ok. Fine me then. Fine a sixteen year old student trying to get to school, just because you have nothing better to do."

Assfuck gets offended. Assfuck puts on voice of authority, or at least a sad attempt of it.

"Look, I'll let you off this time, but if I catch you travelling without a ticket again, bla bla bla fine bla bla bla bla 200 dollars bla bla bla bla I have no balls bla bla bla."

Sorry, what was that? I was too busy staring at your ugly nose, and that weird growth right next to it. You should seriously get that checked.

I walked away, rolling my eyes as I walked pass him. Assfuck.

I'm not an angry person. Really.

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Saturday, March 04, 2006

And they say.

Serious, reflective, self-judgemental post ahead.

Applaud me, I'm single again. Oh didn't I tell you? I was seeing Leon. And, someone else before that. Yes, Kimmy's been having quite a bumbling love life so far this year. Sadly, none of these sad, sorry excuses for relationships lasted, simply because its impossible to force yourself to love a person, when your heart is still elsewhere. And I slap myself for getting into these things, knowing they would all turn out badly but going ahead anyway just for the sake of it.

I'm sleepy. Tired. Missed out on Mardi Gras once again, because of my stupid stupid memory. I've been incredibly emo once again this week and the last, boohooing about my hurt and what not...I know, I know, its getting old, even I've gotten sick of myself.

Just got back from work, though about it, seriously contemplating finding another job. Why? My heart's just not into it anymore... not that waitressing ever required much of it, but I don't do it for the same reasons with which i started.

I chose to be a waitress in a thai restaraunt, because I wanted to meet people, because I wanted to learn a new language, because I wanted to have some sort of responsibility....and most importantly, because I wanted to distance myself from the way alot of people percieved me, as this spoilt rich girl who's never had to work hard for anything.

Funny thing is, even now, even the people whom I work with percieve me as this spoilt rich girl, who's never had to work hard for anything. Sigh.

Its just...its all getting old. The fake smiles, pretending to be bloody joyous everytime a new customer comes, knowing already what you're gona say to people before you even go up to them, taking crap from people who think you're a dumb bimbo just because you're a waitress...there's no more real human interaction, everything's done on autopilot now. Especially since I'm working on the weekends, when it gets so busy that I have no time whatsoever to say anything more than a "hello and what can I get you" to people. And soon, it'll become just another boring job, no different from typing crap you don't care about in a 9 to 5 office job.

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I'm not one to be jealous, but I am incredibly envious of this certain type of people: People who know what they want, who have set interests and goals, and know what they want to do with they're life. Although I've been telling people I wana be a journalist/PR person/photographer, truthbetold I have no idea whatsoever of what I want to do. Which is why I have quite a random choice of subjects in school, and half of which i dislike doing, ie Legal studies and math. I fucking hate going to those two classes, and only do so because my mum told me to, and because I'm good at them.

I'm sure you all know that just because you're good at something, doesn't really mean you like it. I'm blessed with the ability to be bloody good at anything I put even the most miniscule amount of effort into, simply due to the fact that I absolutely LOVE proving to people that I can do this, I can do that. Stupidly enough, as a result, I've been aimlessly wandering from phase to phase all my life, never sticking to one specific focus. When I went back to malaysia, my room, I looked at all these things that reminded me of my old world ...dance shoes...tennis racquets....piano books...taekwondo uniforms...paintbrushes...I've tried everything, yet nothing interests me long enough for me to stick with.

Read: I REALLY REALLY NEED SOME DIRECTION IN MY LIFE.

No more boys,
Get a new job
Focus on school, Kim, F-O-C-U-S

I tell myself.

Funnily enough, its the exact same thing I planned for last year, and look how that turned out. I don't know whats more daunting, the thrill of not knowing what comes next, or the dread of the possibility of the same old problems, yet to come.

And it just makes you question the volume of truth the old saying holds, the one about how we are all the true makers of our futures, when so much can go so wrong.

Posted by Closet Groupie :: 8:52 PM :: 2 Comments:

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