I thought I lost Thursday...

...but it turns out it's only my phone that has lost something. It's sanity.

This Nokia 6100 has officially gone into the land of all things mad, mental n crazy. Tis a shame because it was a great phone in it's younger days.

Even survived being dropped down 20 stairs and landing on concrete at the bottom, the sturdy little bugger it is.

But anyhow. Here's a list of its spazzy azzy attacks to date...

1. Rejected the sim card then accepted it again. About 5 times in two minutes.
2. Told me to register my phone because the registration process had failed.
3. Fallen apart into multiple pieces. Ok, this one is because of the numerous times I've dropped it. But still.
4. Frozen. Unfrozen. Frozen again.
5. Turned itself off and then refused to turn back on even though the battery was full AND I'd put it on charge just in case.
6. Told me it sent a text but hadn't. Said message sending failed...but the text had gone through.
7. Shown full battery but then died in the middle of a phone call with no warning at all.
8. Had 1 bar left. Then went to full battery. Then back to 3 bars. And (surprise, surprise) back to almost fully charged.
9. Told me to insert sim card even though I never took my sim card out.
10. Mixed up the order of messages in my inbox, sent items and saved folders.
11. Gotten stuck at 1.45pm so I think I've somehow frozen time.
12. Told me it was Friday the 16th of April and so made me think I'd misplaced Thursday the 15th.

I can't think of any more right now. But number 12, well, that one really scared me. I thought I'd slept through an entire DAY. Like over 24 hours haha.

I'm thinking it is time for a new cellular phone. ASAP.

Speaking of entire days, I haven't done any study yet and this entire day is almost gone. Hmm, procrastination how I love you.

Laters to everyone who reads this. *cough*one person*cough*.

Once Upon a Time, the End (Year 13 English 2009)

Once upon a time, I guess you could’ve called me cynical. You’d have been right. A lack of belief in that stereotypical fairytale nonsense. Maybe, at first glance, it may have seemed like I believed in the romantic happy ending, what with all the novels I read and films I watched of that very nature. Truth of the matter was that after seeing all those picture perfect endings one tends to realise how unrealistic they actually are. They’re all stories, crafted by someone to have that joyous reunion of a couple or that dream wedding even after some terrible misunderstanding.

So yeah, cynical would have been a perfect way of putting it. I was cynical, but happy in a weird way. My life was a perfect little bubble of obliviousness. I just didn’t know that there was something a lot better than being oblivious. Not then anyhow.

* * *

The bus pulled into the shopping mall late. Why was I always late? Or, more to the point, why was my bus always late? The only reasonable explanation for it was karma, back to bite me in the bum. Most likely for my eloquent snorting earlier when the twelve year old next to me rang up her boyfriend just to tell him she loved him the “mosteresterest”. Pfft.

Because a word like that exists solely for the purpose of those types of sickening conversations, I am so sure.

Half tripping, I gracefully exited the bus and was greeted by a rather chilly blast of wind. Whoa, it was cold out. Mum’s voice echoed in my head; “Are you sure that will be warm enough Danielle?” Black tank top, skirt, fishnets and knee-high boots. Oh, and the all important fingerless gloves. Of course I’ll be warm enough Mother.

And if I wasn’t? Like I’d let her know she was right.

* * *

Spite is a beautiful thing. It makes people do things they would never even contemplate normally, just to prove someone wrong. For example, insisting that knee-high boots would be warm enough just to show your mum that you can dress yourself. Or going to see a movie with your best friend and her boyfriend despite everyone’s warnings about ‘third wheels’, just because you want to show the world you can be single and happy.

In other words, spite and cynicism go hand in hand.

* * *

“Danielle!” A huge bear hug ensued; Hayley.
“Hayley!” Sarcasm at it’s finest; me. “Oh hey there Aaron.”
“Sup D, how’s it hanging?” Aaron replied in his usual fake-gangster greeting.
“Quit the gangster act. Do you know how far off Declan is hun?” Hayley nervously checked her phone.
I glanced at her accusingly. ”Declan? Not that Declan you’ve told me about the other day?” My voice filled with exasperation.
“Yeah, him! You remembered! I told you Aaron, he’s pretty keen to meet her and she’s obviously been thinking about it. You’re gonna love Declan, he’s so nice!” Hayley’s happiness bubbled over.

Right. I was going to fall madly in love with this guy. It would be love at first sight. And all thanks to Hayley and her ‘let’s set up the best friends because they’re both single and we have to spread our happy coupledom-ness to the world’ plan.

“Oh, of course Hayley! We could go on double dates…I can even picture a double wedding! Get real bub, why would he even be interested in me?”

* * *

And yet again cynicism, my dear friend cynicism, was there for me. Covered up by the subtle sarcasm that normally engulfed most of my conversations.

I told myself to relax. Told myself nothing would come of meeting this guy; nothing at all. Just an awkward hello, no conversation and then a goodbye followed by no further thought. And back to life as I knew it; blissful obliviousness.

At least that’s what I told myself. Now that I think about it, cynicism is just the acceptance, not of reality, but of a perceived reality.

* * *

I could hear Hayley mumbling on in the background. She sounded alarmingly similar to an internet dating service advert.
“Mhmm, yeah. Oh really?” I made good use of my uncanny ability to appear to be listening when I really wasn’t even remotely interested. Apathy has its advantages.
I glimpsed over at Aaron. He shot me a ‘you’d better be listening’ look. I raised an eyebrow; ‘I’m listening intently, can’t you tell?’
Hayley blinked at me, realising I wasn’t fully focussed. “For once in your life, could you pretend that you actually care about things? Drop the apathetic demeanour? And lose the sarcasm while you’re at it.”
“Sure thing! I’ll pretend to be enthusiastic and just loving life! How’s that sound?” The thing was I actually contemplating pretending to be a freakishly happy person just to prove to Hayley I didn’t spend my life not caring. But the more I’d thought about spiting her, the more I’d realised that was exactly what she wanted me to do. She had me and she knew it.
“Oh look. Here he is now.”

* * *

Cynicism, spite, sarcasm and apathy. How I loved you all. You’d got me through thick and thin, banding together to create the perfect obliviousness.

But that was until I met him. Something about him made obliviousness unappealing and, well, damned right impossible.

* * *

A grin. A flash of teeth. A glimpse of eyes that were blue and grey and green all at once. And he was tall. I risked a glance up at those eyes. There was hazel there too.
“Danielle this is Declan. Declan, Danielle.” Hayley’s voice broke through the silence that had washed over me. So much for an awkward introduction.
“Hey there.” He smiled, yet another flash of teeth. And I knew, then and there, that obliviousness was gone forever. That apathetic world I’d created was shattered.

Truth be told I didn’t care all that much.

* * *

They say that sometimes you meet someone who makes you realise why it never worked with anyone else. My life didn’t change like that straight away. Nothing that clichéd ever happens to me. At least I don’t think it does.

It took me a day to pluck up the courage to send just one text; a much deliberated text that consisted of only a simple ‘hey’. But it was enough and I did it, mainly out of spite towards myself (who, at the time didn’t believe he’d text back), but still. It was the best decision of my life.

And not just because it meant Declan was suddenly a permanent part of my life (although that was a pretty big reason). No, it was also because it made me realise a few things. Cynicism is not reality, perceived or otherwise. Spite can still get you what you want, but it also can be used against you. Sarcasm, while incredibly incisive and witty, is actually hard to convey through text. And apathy? It gets boring, especially when there’s someone out there who you care about more than anything.

I still maintain that nobody gets given their happy ending like at the end of book. You have to write your own, happily ever after.

The End.

This was written a while ago when things were happening in my life that drew me out of my cynicism. Then shit happened and the cynic in me made a come back. Now I'm still a cynic, and proud of it.

Grief, Revenge, Morals and Doughnuts (Year 12 English 2008)

Five minutes to go. Doodling in the margin of my exercise book, I gazed aimlessly out of the window. My teacher’s dull voice droned on to a class of dreary eyed teens.

Four minutes. Lunch time loomed on my mind and I desperately tried to conjure up a picture of my lunch. I glanced back out the window at the group of students, far below, playing touch in the sweltering summer heat. A sparrow hopped in to my view, making me lose sight of the rugby ball. Slightly infuriated, I shifted in my seat, my stomach grumbled in irritation at the lack of food. Stupid bird, I muttered inwardly, its presence added to the discomfort of the heat and my hunger. The sparrow shifted closer still, tormenting me with its freedom, its beady black eyes glinted in the bright light like diamonds cut out of the sun.

Annoyed and disgruntled, I was involuntarily transported back to when I was three, all those years ago, in Wenderholm Park. My first sparrow attack. Anguish flooded me as the sparrow outside dredged up memories of another of its kind, flying away with…

A doughnut. Covered in delicious chocolate to be precise.

Slightly melodramatic I hear you say. Sparrow ATTACK? You have to remember my three year old perception of morals were black and white; right and wrong. Stealing was stealing, whether it was a robber making off with a cash register or a sparrow getting away with my doughnut. Maybe such strong feelings of hatred for a bird which is characteristically half the size of said doughnut were a little extravagant, but I was angry. Livid even.

My mouth watered at the thought of that doughnut, my hunger magnifying that loss of thirteen years ago. Three minutes to go.

Whatever my reasons, the stealing of my lunch before I could have a second bite, I did the only thing a preschooler could come up with at such short notice; terrorize them all. I chased every single sparrow with a stick, the loss of my chocolate doughnut as my cause; revenge the first and foremost thing on my mind. A three year old is not much of a threat mind you, especially to winged mammals. But give said child a stick and they are a force to be reckoned with.

Anger, pain, loss and disappointment. Four words associated with death and summed up as grief. I felt them all. Adrenalin pumped through me as I chased every bird in my line of fire. All because of my doughnut, or lack of, so cruelly torn from my little grasp.

The sparrow jumped forward and cocked its head to one side. I snapped out of my reminiscing. The tiny bird seemed to be laughing, as though it had a single iota of intelligent human thought. That day, although at the time held no meaning, taught me not to take things for granted; to not assume everything stays the same.

The bell rung and the sparrow was gone, startled by the sudden outpour of students from the neighbouring classrooms.

And to never, or course, trust sparrows around doughnuts.

Gotta love those chocolate doughnuts alrighty.

I have no idea what I'm doing still awake...

...at 3am. 3am for Godsakes.

How do you even spell godsakes? God's sakes? Goddsakes? I have absolutely no idea and at this time of the night...I mean, morning, I have absolutely no reason to care either. So that takes care of that wee problemo.

Hmm, I can already forsee the fate of this blog. It'll be the same as my last two attempts - destined to go the way of the dodo. But hey, why not give it another go? Third time lucky right?

Pfft, I doubt this blog will even get a third post before the year ends let alone actually surviving and being updated regularly.
So yeah, don't have any expectations regarding the currentness of what I write.

In fact, just don't have any expectations at all - it's highly likely that this will just end up being a sporadic venting of random, useless crap. Truth be told, it's already pointless babbling as it is, nothing much of interest nor anything of conceiveable importance.

Well, the only other thing I can think of to say is that '3am' is a rather good song by Matchbox 2o.

So, to all you bubblegum fairies, candyfloss pixies and popcorn jellybabies, I bid thee a goodnight and leave you with this piece of advice:

Best way to eat Wonka Nerds is with a spoon. Just like you eat cereal.