So give me a day or so to iron out some bugs and we'll be right to go.

@ 5:29 PM || link || ||

Thursday, December 6

living in three dimensions
Started out today waiting. Watching the morning hours scratch by as I hung around waiting for my mum to get back from a function my sister was at. At 11:45, 3 hours late, mum got home. We decided to go shopping, I was depressed and felt the need to spend money.
We drove half an hour out of the way to go to a different shopping centre, I got out of the car, and discovered I'd let my wallet at home.

I burst into tears.

I didn't want to go shopping unless I had money. Mum was willing to loan me up to $300 if I paid her back. I didn't want to spend her money. After half an hour of me silently crying, we went home.

I can't explain the crying. Normally I'd curse and kick anything in the general vacinity for a bit, and then I'd be over it. Right as rain, so to speak. But today, it was a trigger.

A trigger of anger over my last job, and the people there.
A trigger of angst over my new job, and the unwelcome feeling I was given.
A trigger of despair over wasting my mum's time.
A trigger of loneliness, being left behind when my friends go on holiday in January.
A trigger of frustration over the love, or lack there of, in my life.
A trigger of annoyance over doing something as stupid as leaving my wallet at home.
A trigger of inadequacy for not being the perfect person people constantly expect me to be.

Mostly the last one.

After sniffing and wiping away crystal drops of sadness for half an hour on the way home, I got myself out of the car and lost it.

At home, the only place where I am myself and not the person I am expected to be, the person people think I am, I cried as myself.
I didn't hide it, I didn't pretend it wasn't happening. I let it out.

Mum sat down with me, we talked for an hour.

We didn't sort anything out or improve any of my problems, but we talked. And granted, it's only a way of burdening someone else with problems that don't make sense to anyone but the one that carries them. But now I feel slightly better for it.

More so, working tonight, after pulling myself together and being the smiling fake Amy that's perfect in every way that everyone expects to be right and stable and honest, two great things happened.

Work was great. My boss was great. The two girls I worked with tonight were great. Even after dropping one of the massive metal grates into the walkway and nearly killing four people, while giving half a dozen others heart attacks from the resounding bang, I felt okay.

Mum picked me up, ordered me a coffee at a cafe upstairs. And as we waited, my phone rang. It was him. And the sound of his voice felt oddly similar to a shot of caffiene, like I'd been asleep up until then and had needed that jolt to remind me of where I was and who I was.

And now, I don't want to cry anymore.

@ 10:26 PM || link || ||



Too true

If I were a work of art, I would be Piet Mondrian's Composition A. I am rigidly organised and regimented, although my cold and unapproachable exterior hides a clever way of thinking and a rebellious and innovative nature. A lot of people don't understand me, but I can still affect them on an emotional level. Which work of art would you be? The Art Test

So work yesterday.
It was okay. I'm hesitant to say okay because it's not how I feel, but realistically it was. The people that work there are nice. I got the hang of the computer system quickly. I didn't stuff up too badly. They got me answering phones and calling customers, as well as serving, which was a surprise all at one. Pretty soon they're going to have me call publishers and shit.
But let's just say I felt a weird vibe from the people helping me. Not a bad vibe, not a good vibe, just a weird one.
And let's just say that my back and my legs ache in places they haven't ever ached before, and I have no one to rub them for me.
And let's just say that I'm the youngest person there by about 10-15 years.
And let's just say that I'm mothered by some, and ignored by others.
And apart from that, I can't think of any reason why I should feel as... uncomfortable - that's a good word - as I do, but I do.
I have to work tonight, 5-9.

Yesterday a girl brought a resume in to work. I saw myself doing the same thing three weeks ago, and laughed to myself. There were no positions available. I gave the resume to my boss, Jody, and she groaned.
'Not another one. I get these damn things all day every day,' she'd muttered.

I thought about it. She gets them all day every day. She must have picked her favourite 20 resumes out of the pile of 60 she had, called them in for interviews. Then she picked her favourite two interviewees - Me and some other guy.
Me. Out of 60 people.
Why?

Mum is of the firm belief that when things like this happen, it's for a reason. My dad was moved around a lot by his employers as he was promoted, he was used as a tool to improve bad areas of finance, thus the whole family was uprooted time and time again to be placed somewhere different.
Now we've been in Brisbane for six years. Mum vows up and down that it all happened for a reason. 'Amy, if we hadn't moved to Kadina; to Gawler; to Darwin, Streaky Bay and Adelaide, we wouldn't have ended up here. Everything has a way of going, everything happens for a reason.'
And now she says the same for me. 'If you hadn't worked those two years at Coles, putting up with all the rubbish and mistreatment you did put up with, you wouldn't have scored this job over all those other, older people. But you did.'

That's great. I don't want the fucking job.

Hey, here's a thought. Maybe the other person they hired, a guy called John, is good looking. And if anything happened, my mum would crow indiginantly, 'See! Didn't I tell you things happened for a reason!!'

Knowing my luck, 'John' will probably be a 35 year old balding pedophile.

I dont' want to work tonight.

@ 9:51 AM || link || ||

Wednesday, December 5

Ohhh. Myyyy. God!
So I knew that I'd be getting my annual leave paid off. I knew that Coles owed me about $300 for that. And I knew they'd be paying me $30 for my last weeks work. So when my bank balance was sitting at $20 yesterday, I was feeling not so bad. I knew I'd be getting some money today.

Picture the scene. I log on to check my bank balance, while talking to Simone. The account they've paid me in, previously sitting at $20, is now at $680.

amy jo says: Oh. My. God.
amy jo says: Ohhhh myyy goooodddd!
amy jo says: Holy fuck!
amy jo says: Simone
amy jo says: they paid me $660!
amy jo says: Oh shit
amy jo says: Oh my god
amy jo says: Oh my fucking god
cherry ripe says: someone's taking me shopping
amy jo says: I'm almost crying

Okay Coles. You wanna pay me $660, that's fine. Fine. I knew I deserved more outta working there.

Webcam, here I come.

@ 9:31 AM || link || ||

Tuesday, December 4

Struggling
I have to stretch four Panadol to last from now until tomorrow afternoon.
I'm dying.

Strange searches today:
- essay on alexander the great
- emma bunton weight gain
- curly fonts
- lack of handwriting skills in students
- minogue video

All from Google. Is anyone surprised?

@ 3:22 PM || link || ||



Sitting around
Thinking secret, silent thoughts. The soft, constant woosh of the air conditioner permeates the quietness of this house without people, just me and the keyboard clicking away as my fingers meet the keys.

And I wonder what it would be like to be with you, after talking on Friday night because I was tired and you couldn't find a better excuse. Your friend's in hospital, dying, because she's lost 90% of her blood during child birth. She won't take a blood transfusion because she's a Jehovahs, her baby isn't going to make it. You're melancholy, I'm disbelieving, I can't understand and don't want to understand why anyone would stand and watch this happen without questioning the ethics behind it. That girl, the girl that's slowly dying, that could be me. You and I, we talked about it once. About what it'd be like if we were together.
I don't want to die for some illicit, misinformed cause. I don't want to die for something you believe in. I want to know what you really think about it, you must think something is wrong. You believe in the religion but I've seen you question it, this dying of a friend wouldn't - shouldn't - wash easily with you. You would never say it out loud, but would turn it over and over in your head until you managed to find something to push it aside. A bible passage? A line of shots? One is just as bad as the other, but you won't talk it out. It will slowly drive you insane.

And I think about the two swollen bull-ant bites I have on my waist, from swimming yesterday in a dish-water pool at dusk, from floating on the surface and watching mum's palm trees scrape the star filled sky. The stinging had started out slow and hollow, and I had pressed my hand to my side as the pain increased, ascending into a sharp, biting pain that left me gasping as my mum and brother looked on curiously. Three successive bites in the same area, it's lucky my allergy hasn't flared up and that I got the antihistamines in time. The bites throb, now, a pinky-red colour against my pale white skin. I need a tan, but can't pull myself away from this air conditioner, from this steady clicking, from these thoughts.

I struggle with Melbourne, with leaving, with deciding to go the whole way and just... let go. Simone will have the courage to do it, I know. Whether it be to proove everyone wrong or because she genuinely wants to get away, she will do it. I have two families to leave, my immediate, and my chosen - my friends. I have contacts here, people that will stop me in the street and ask me how my life is. I have neighbours who bring me nectarines and party invitations, parents of siblings friends who talk to me about school and tell me how great I'm going. I have pets here, I have history. I have familiar places that won't reject me and decieve me with newness and shadows. I have memories. What can Melbourne bring me? University, rent, and the love of someone who doesn't deserve me. I think I need more than hollow feelings and echoing rooms. I need him to deserve me. I need Simone to understand and be patient. I will do this. I can do this.

I push aside my new job, my five hour shift tomorrow, my first shift tomorrow. My bright red shirt that I will brandish with sullen pride, that I will wear on the walk from home, through the haunts of my old work, and on the sticky, hot seat of the bus. All taking me to a place I don't want to be, in a job I don't deserve, wearing a t-shirt that doesn't suit me. I wish my mum could drive me tomorrow, that her presence would be with me until I left for work. But she too is working, and I'll while away the morning on my own, each minute dragging as my pulse accelerates towards certain disappointment and anguish. I don't want this job. I really don't want this job.

I remember lying awake last night, at midnight, my fan spinning precariously above my head. It was silent and dark in my room, and a sudden movement outside awoke a flock of Mina birds. At midnight I lay there, listening to the birds chirp and shriek and call to each other, and the darkness felt out of place. I pulled the covers up to my chin and closed my eyes, praying that what ever had disturbed the birds wasn't going to disturb me. My imagination knows no bounds at midnight.

And still I sit here, clicking away. A plane is humming over head, descending towards the airport half a city away. I'm alone in a house that knows me, that has watched me grow and change and laugh and cry for five years straight. Maybe it's time for some music.

@ 9:44 AM || link || ||

Monday, December 3

Okay sure...

If I was a James Bond villain, I would be Auric Goldfinger. I enjoy golf, gold, and bisecting people with industrial lasers. I am played by Gert Fröbe in Goldfinger. Who would you be? James Bond Villain Personality Test

Thanks Mo.

@ 10:09 PM || link || ||



Oh happy day...
Deep breaths. Let me get everything organised so it will make sense to people that don't understand the weird order in which my brain insists on functioning.
It's monday morning, and rather than sleeping in I thought I'd get up and do some ingredient shopping for some Christmas stuff I'm supposed to be cooking. I dragged myself out of bed at 9:30, came downstairs, and low and behold. My sister has faked a sickie and is home from school.
That would be fine normally, except it's technically my first day of holidays. I want the house to myself so I can blast the stereo and dance around like a drunk git. Not possible when little sister is hanging around.
So I gave her an incredulous look, the one she always gets when she fakes sickies. Stupid child, she should figure that if she's not in bed actually pretending to be sick - ie. groaning and coughing, then mum is going to find out in one way or another.
I grabbed a glass of orange juice and the last piece of cake, and came in here. My brother came down the stairs, rubbing his eyes and trying to look pathetic. He's apparently got a pounding head ache, and can't go to school either. Sure.
I should make them do all the cleaning mum's asked ME to do.

Secondly. Thanks to Chris for his singing chickens e-card; Row for her sweet email; and Ross for the mention on his site... oh, and for talking to me in such a tired, sad state last night. I feel only slightly more awake now, I'm afraid, and that's after nine hours sleep.

Next. It's Jonty's REAL birthday today, or yesterday... or whatever weird time it is over that way. Damn time zones. Jonty's also offered to host me, which'd be nice cos I'm getting pretty sick of tripod. Might have to get back to him on that one. Thanks Jonty!

Lastly. Ice skating last night was great. So Kirsti and Tam argued in the car on the way over. I should've known better than to put them in a car together. It should have been Simone and Tam in the car with me, Nik and Kirsti in the other with mum. Kirsti and Tammy are just opposites, always biting at each others comments and telling each other to shut up. I had to keep reminding them it was MY birthday, and that they should be focusing on ME.
Man.
So ice skating. It was nice going from temperatures in the 30's to temperatures hovering just above 0 degrees. It was just... so deliciously cold you felt like eating the air, breathing it in and holding on to it. And the skating. Fantastic. I don't get to go ice skating often because living in Brisbane, where we're lucky to get a few days every year when it gets down to 2 or 3 degrees, there ain't snow or ice anywhere but in the freezer in my kitchen.
Ice skating is a known novelty. Tam took awhile to get used to it, Kirsti and Nik took to it straight away, and poor Simone...
Being attacked by a horse a few days before and leaving a massive bruise in an inconvenient spot really didn't help her cause. I felt so sorry for her, it would've been horrible seeing everyone having a good time on the ice and knowing you either had to get out there and put up with the pain, or sit down and feel like you were missing out.
I'm glad you came mo-mo.

The subject of report cards came up last night. I don't want to know what my end of year looks like. I know I got an A- for Modern History this year, which is good but definitely needs improvement.
I know I got an A for Geography. Happy about that one.
I know I got something in the A region for English, most likely an A.
I know I got an A for Ancient History.
So I guess what I'm really worried about is the Maths and Chemistry.
That final Maths exam... ohh baby what a shocker.
And Chem. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it.
We get our reports on the 10th. Monday.

I guess I should go do some shopping. And turn the air conditioner on. Ohh what I wouldn't give to be in a nice cold country right now. Snow. Please...

@ 1:07 PM || link || ||

Sunday, December 2

You my sister?
For dessert today, after lunch, my mum and sister produced a Pavalova that they'd selected apparently very carefully.

'I wanted something interesting, like Tira Misu or mud cake. But Mel insisted,' mum spoke as she cut the merangue with utmost care, her eyebrows raised as if to release the concentration she was pouring into each perfect slice.
'It's Amy's birthday. Her favourite cake is Pavalova. Of course she'd want that, mum!' my sister Mel had cut in, holding her plate out for a slice.

Sometimes, when I feel like strangling my sister, I forget how nice she can be. I forget she remembers things like what my favourite cake is, and that she has a sentimental streak. Today, when she tells me my ginger hair gone wrong looks good, and when she tells me the earrings her best friend gave me match perfectly with my green top, and when she pulls my brother out of bed so she can give me their present, I feel like capturing that niceness and holding on to it forever.

I worry that it won't stay around for long. She's 12, she's going to high school next year, and she's already playing Spin the Bottle and prancing around in string bikinis. When I was 12, we didn't even speak to the guys, let alone dress to impress them.

I don't want my sister to become something she doesn't deserve to be. She has the potential to be truly brilliant, someone that people will remember just as she has remembered minute details about them.

To protect her is to crush her.
To release her is to ruin her.

I just want her to remember.

@ 4:34 PM || link || ||



Wow...
Erin is officially my new favourite person. Look what she did for me! LOOK!

I'm smiling, Erin. Big smile.

So I noticed in my referrer logs today that I have scored another link in the mess of the world wide web. Dave has me linked, and also has a great website. So go visit the dude that unknowingly gave me a really great birthday present. Thanks Dave!

My mum had been warning me for the last few weeks that she was going to wake me up on my birthday with some sort of evil surprise. I was worried, to say the least, and threatened to sleep with my door locked and with a chair jammed up against it, but she didn't seem to threatened. Last night I decided to leave said door unlocked, but to set my alarm for 6 so that I'd be prepared for whatever she decided to do against me. After being awake for two hours, at 8, mum and dad knocked at my door. It swung open, and they were standing there with a plate of blueberry and apricot danishes, and chocolate croissants, topped with three candles. They'd gone up to Bakers Delight especially to buy me my favourite pastries for breakfast, and had brought me a cup of coffee too.
Some evil surprise, I was touched. And I got up two hours early to be greeted with danish. Not bad.

Mum and Dad gave me a new watch, a blue lamp, a Travis cd, some make up stuff and a bottle of Ralph Lauren 'Romance' perfume - that I've been after for four years.
My sister Mel and brother Simon gave me a silver ring, considering I lost my last one at work somehow. Probably ended up in a customers bag with the bread and milk. Lucky them.
Mel's best friend Rosie gave two pairs of green earrings that her older sister Izzy made. They're beautiful - thanks Rosie and Izzy!

So all in all I'm having a great day so far. I have my Romance on and I keep sniffing myself, anyone who didn't know I was wearing perfume would think I was getting high on B.O or some other mysterious body odour. I haven't unleashed myself into the public masses yet, so thankfully this hasn't been the case.

My dad's preparing me a special lunch, chicken kebabs I'm sure. Bless him, he spent $26 yesterday at Lenards buying all this chicken and there's no way we're going to be able to eat it all, but he wasn't sure what I liked eating (can't say Dad's ever around much for shopping excursions and the like), so he bought some of everything. I feel bad yet extremely grateful at the same time, an odd mix of feelings. I'm not sure how mum's going to convince dad that we'll save some for later. He wants to cook up everything.

I'm going ice skating this evening with Simone, Kirsti, Nik and Tam, + family. I'm hanging out for that dry, cold feeling - it's so humid and sticky here at the moment that everything seems to be smudged and blurred - moving in slow motion and hazy around the edges. Being at the rink will be a nice, cool change. I wish you could come, Erin, I know it must be horrible up North QLD way.

I had my hair cut yesterday, while I was at the centre picking up my bright red t-shirts for A&R. I was expecting a trim but it's come out a lot shorter than I thought it would. I also got mum to dye it. The packet showed a chick with ginger-brown coloured hair. Mine turned out almost black, with burgundy streaks through it. Not quite sure how that happened, but it looks good. C'est la vie I guess.

And finally (Stuff has been happening these past days. I feel like I need to get it all down so I won't forget it and become unappreciative and boring again), our Christmas tree is up and decorated. Sure, it's leaning slightly to the side and as per usual, it doesn't actually fit in the lounge room, the top of the tree bent over to accomodate for the ceiling, but it's up. Mum's decided to put up fairy lights on the trees outside this year too, in a vain attempt to keep up with the neighbours and all their Christmas lights. Across the road they're doing the whole fibre optics thing. The house next door has icicle lights all over their balcony. The house up from them has these lights that have the effect of gold rain. I think mum was feeling threatened, like they were all trying to beat us. So she's hauled out the fairy lights and coloured cone lights. The pool fence and conifer pines have never looked so bright and cheery. I'm pretty sure the neighbours will find something else to try and beat us at.
Cars.
Gardens.
The most mail in the mail box.
The most babies born under the one roof in the smallest amount of time. (Currently going to the couple four houses up who have had twins and a baby within the last two years.)
You never know in this neighbourhood.
Maybe they'll even introduce a Garden Gnome breeding contest.
Talk about damning yourself for eternity.

@ 11:27 AM || link || ||

Coming Up
01/12: Crawfy's Birthday
02/12: My pretend b-day.
05/12: First day at A&R
06/12: Work @ A&R
06/12: Nikki's b-day
10/12: Report card day
12/12: Work @ A&R
13/12: Work @ A&R
14/12: Work @ A&R