I'm not as tough as everyone thinks.
One of my nicknames might be inspired by Transformers but I am far from anything the Autobots represent. Not bravery, courage, selflessness... maybe loyalty but that's about it.
I am not strong and I am not brave. I am weak in so many ways and I am scared of so many things. I'm not strong mentally and most definitely not emotionally. I let myself get dependant and lost in people too easily and the really sad part is that I know it. Is it really hypocritical of me to know all of this and yet not seem to be able to do anything about it? Sometimes I do feel like a hypocrite; I'm not sure if that's the right word to use. It's like, I know all this about myself but still I don't (or can't) do anything about it.
I tried once. I got so tired of always being the one to make the effort so I just gave up. I stopped arranging things with people, I stopped texting and calling people unless I really needed to, I stopped asking people for things, I tried to stop depending on people so much. And I pulled it off for a while. I suppose I still am trying although I have lightened up a bit on the "shunning" people part. I feel like I'm burdening people when I talk to them about what I'm going through so I just keep quite.
Anyone who knows me really well knows that I'm not one to just start talking about how I feel. It is extremely hard for me to talk about how I feel and what I'm going through which is why I tend to be very quite often. Heck, I can't even type about how I feel and have people read it - I have whole other blogs for that that no one reads. So it all just stays inside until suddenly the dam breaks and the water[works] just come flying out. And it always seems to happen at the most inconvenient of times in the most inconvenient of places.
It really doesn't help with how I handle things though. My friend once compared me to an egg. Hard on the outside, soft on the inside and when the shell cracks, everything just explodes and falls to pieces. It was extremely apt.
I suffered my first breakdown when I was 12. I don't know why or what caused it except that I was incredibly sad and depressed and that lead me to almost do some pretty dangerous stuff. And now you know something about me that most people don't. Since then, my emotions have been a very turbulent issue that I've had to deal with over the last six years. They can fluctuate with the help of anything - school, work, TV shows, music, relationships, friendships, boys, movies, books or just for no reason in particular.
Right, so back to the original point: I let my emotions control me a lot. This is a bad thing since my emotions are so unstable; and I don't just swap between happy and sad. Depressed, angry, hyper, bored and a whole spectrum of other moods and emotions come into play as well and they can change within a wink. So yes, my mood swings are dangerous.
People say feeling is part of being human but if so, I don't like to be human then. What separates humans from robots? Is it the ability to breathe or think independently? Some say it's the ability to feel, to have a heart and experience emotions. Well, if that's what separates us from them, then sometimes I wish I was a robot.
A robot who doesn't go through emotions and who doesn't possess the ability to feel scared.
Maybe then I won't be such a coward.
I'm scared of a lot of things - insects and bugs, clowns, relationships, forever being alone, growing fat, the future, being alone in a crowded room, talking about how I feel, having no money, never being happy, new experiences... the list goes on.
I am not brave or confidant. I actually cannot talk to new people (except maybe when I'm intoxicated) which means I cannot just talk to someone who I think is gorgeous (so all my friends can now stop telling me to "just go up and talk to him", thanks). I am a coward and it has left me in this rut. I will not go into an in depth post about said "him" because it is long and complicated and tiring. You can try to search out my other blog or ask me about it if you really want to know about it, although I may not tell you if you ask me.
Anyway, I am too scared and uncertain to talk to him; I am too scared and uncertain to face my problems; I'm too scared and uncertain to burden other people; I'm too scared and uncertain to let go.
What I am not uncertain about, though, is my loyalty to my friends. Sometimes I think I am too loyal and that leads me to getting hurt and disappointed a lot. The hurt and disappointment feeds into my emotional oscillating waves and so begins the horrid cycle of my emotional state. One big, vile circle of emotional turmoil.
I used to be pretty good at hiding it. I suppose that if I tried, I still would be but it's just that I'm too tired to do it now. It takes too much effort to smile and not look exhausted and burnt out, too much effort to try to hide the watery eyes, red nose, shaking hands. It's a build up of numerous factors - stress, school, work, lack of sleep, friends, boy, dance...
All it takes is just one person to unravel it. The worst part? They don't know that they're doing it. The even worst part? I only have myself to blame.
So here I am - Dezatron dismantled. Like a Transformer, I can be hard and [not so] shiny on the outside but when they transform, you see what's really inside. Except, instead of a fighter who's ready to defend the world, all you see is a scared and weak little girl. The egg has cracked again.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Sunday, November 21, 2010
The BBC believes most people would have read only 6 out of 100 of these books listed
So I know this is a Facebook thing but I'm not one of those people who posts notes. Still, it's interesting and I wanted to see how I ranked so I decided to put this here.
Instructions: Copy this into your NOTES. Bold those books you've read in their entirety, italicize the ones you started but didn't finish or read an excerpt. Tag other book nerds.
1 Pride and Prejudice – Jane Austen
2 The Lord of the Rings – JRR Tolkien
3 Jane Eyre – Charlotte Bronte
4 Harry Potter series – JK Rowling
5 To Kill a Mockingbird – Harper Lee
6 The Bible
7 Wuthering Heights – Emily Bronte
8 Nineteen Eighty Four – George Orwell
9 His Dark Materials – Philip Pullman
10 Great Expectations – Charles Dickens
11 Little Women – Louisa M Alcott [abridged version]
12 Tess of the D’Urbervilles – Thomas Hardy
13 Catch 22 – Joseph Heller
14 Complete Works of Shakespeare
15 Rebecca – Daphne Du Maurier
16 The Hobbit – JRR Tolkien
17 Birdsong – Sebastian Faulks
18 Catcher in the Rye – JD Salinger
19 The Time Traveller’s Wife – Audrey Niffenegger
20 Middlemarch – George Eliot
21 Gone With The Wind – Margaret Mitchell
22 The Great Gatsby – F Scott Fitzgerald
23 Bleak House – Charles Dickens
24 War and Peace – Leo Tolstoy
25 The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy – Douglas Adams
26 Brideshead Revisited – Evelyn Waugh
27 Crime and Punishment – Fyodor Dostoyevsky
28 Grapes of Wrath – John Steinbeck
29 Alice in Wonderland – Lewis Carroll [abridged version]
30 The Wind in the Willows – Kenneth Grahame
31 Anna Karenina – Leo Tolstoy
32 David Copperfield – Charles Dickens
33 Chronicles of Narnia – CS Lewis
34 Emma – Jane Austen
35 Persuasion – Jane Austen
36 The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe – CS Lewis
37 The Kite Runner – Khaled Hosseini
38 Captain Corelli’s Mandolin – Louis De Berniere
39 Memoirs of a Geisha – Arthur Golden
40 Winnie the Pooh – AA Milne
41 Animal Farm – George Orwell
42 The Da Vinci Code – Dan Brown
43 One Hundred Years of Solitude – Gabriel Garcia Marquez
44 A Prayer for Owen Meaney – John Irving
45 The Woman in White – Wilkie Collins
46 Anne of Green Gables – LM Montgomery
47 Far From The Madding Crowd – Thomas Hardy
48 The Handmaid’s Tale – Margaret Atwood
49 Lord of the Flies – William Golding
50 Atonement – Ian McEwan
51 Life of Pi – Yann Martel
52 Dune – Frank Herbert
53 Cold Comfort Farm – Stella Gibbons
54 Sense and Sensibility – Jane Austen
55 A Suitable Boy – Vikram Seth
56 The Shadow of the Wind – Carlos Ruiz Zafon
57 A Tale Of Two Cities – Charles Dickens
58 Brave New World – Aldous Huxley
59 The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time – Mark Haddon
60 Love In The Time Of Cholera – Gabriel Garcia Marquez
61 Of Mice and Men – John Steinbeck
62 Lolita – Vladimir Nabokov
63 The Secret History – Donna Tartt
64 The Lovely Bones – Alice Sebold
65 Count of Monte Cristo – Alexandre Dumas
66 On The Road – Jack Kerouac
67 Jude the Obscure – Thomas Hardy
68 Bridget Jones’s Diary – Helen Fielding
69 Midnight’s Children – Salman Rushdie
70 Moby Dick – Herman Melville
71 Oliver Twist – Charles Dickens
72 Dracula – Bram Stoker
73 The Secret Garden – Frances Hodgson Burnett
74 Notes From A Small Island – Bill Bryson
75 Ulysses – James Joyce
[I've read The Odyssey by Homer, does that count since it's sort of in it?]
76 The Bell Jar – Sylvia Plath
77 Swallows and Amazons – Arthur Ransome
78 Germinal – Emile Zola
79 Vanity Fair – William Makepeace Thackeray
80 Possession – AS Byatt
81 A Christmas Carol – Charles Dickens
82 Cloud Atlas – David Mitchell
83 The Color Purple – Alice Walker
84 The Remains of the Day – Kazuo Ishiguro
85 Madame Bovary – Gustave Flaubert
86 A Fine Balance – Rohinton Mistry
87 Charlotte’s Web – EB White
88 The Five People You Meet In Heaven – Mitch Albom
89 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes – Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
90 The Faraway Tree Collection – Enid Blyton
91 Heart of Darkness – Joseph Conrad
92 The Little Prince – Antoine De Saint-Exupery
93 The Wasp Factory – Iain Banks
94 Watership Down – Richard Adams
95 A Confederacy of Dunces – John Kennedy Toole
96 A Town Like Alice – Nevil Shute
97 The Three Musketeers – Alexandre Dumas [abridged version]
98 Hamlet – William Shakespeare
99 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory – Roald Dahl
100 Les Miserables – Victor Hugo
----------------
10 bold, 9 italics.
I am actually really ashamed of myself.
Instructions: Copy this into your NOTES. Bold those books you've read in their entirety, italicize the ones you started but didn't finish or read an excerpt. Tag other book nerds.
1 Pride and Prejudice – Jane Austen
2 The Lord of the Rings – JRR Tolkien
3 Jane Eyre – Charlotte Bronte
4 Harry Potter series – JK Rowling
5 To Kill a Mockingbird – Harper Lee
6 The Bible
7 Wuthering Heights – Emily Bronte
8 Nineteen Eighty Four – George Orwell
9 His Dark Materials – Philip Pullman
10 Great Expectations – Charles Dickens
11 Little Women – Louisa M Alcott [abridged version]
12 Tess of the D’Urbervilles – Thomas Hardy
13 Catch 22 – Joseph Heller
14 Complete Works of Shakespeare
15 Rebecca – Daphne Du Maurier
16 The Hobbit – JRR Tolkien
17 Birdsong – Sebastian Faulks
18 Catcher in the Rye – JD Salinger
19 The Time Traveller’s Wife – Audrey Niffenegger
20 Middlemarch – George Eliot
21 Gone With The Wind – Margaret Mitchell
22 The Great Gatsby – F Scott Fitzgerald
23 Bleak House – Charles Dickens
24 War and Peace – Leo Tolstoy
25 The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy – Douglas Adams
26 Brideshead Revisited – Evelyn Waugh
27 Crime and Punishment – Fyodor Dostoyevsky
28 Grapes of Wrath – John Steinbeck
29 Alice in Wonderland – Lewis Carroll [abridged version]
30 The Wind in the Willows – Kenneth Grahame
31 Anna Karenina – Leo Tolstoy
32 David Copperfield – Charles Dickens
33 Chronicles of Narnia – CS Lewis
34 Emma – Jane Austen
35 Persuasion – Jane Austen
36 The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe – CS Lewis
37 The Kite Runner – Khaled Hosseini
38 Captain Corelli’s Mandolin – Louis De Berniere
39 Memoirs of a Geisha – Arthur Golden
40 Winnie the Pooh – AA Milne
41 Animal Farm – George Orwell
42 The Da Vinci Code – Dan Brown
43 One Hundred Years of Solitude – Gabriel Garcia Marquez
44 A Prayer for Owen Meaney – John Irving
45 The Woman in White – Wilkie Collins
46 Anne of Green Gables – LM Montgomery
47 Far From The Madding Crowd – Thomas Hardy
48 The Handmaid’s Tale – Margaret Atwood
49 Lord of the Flies – William Golding
50 Atonement – Ian McEwan
51 Life of Pi – Yann Martel
52 Dune – Frank Herbert
53 Cold Comfort Farm – Stella Gibbons
54 Sense and Sensibility – Jane Austen
55 A Suitable Boy – Vikram Seth
56 The Shadow of the Wind – Carlos Ruiz Zafon
57 A Tale Of Two Cities – Charles Dickens
58 Brave New World – Aldous Huxley
59 The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time – Mark Haddon
60 Love In The Time Of Cholera – Gabriel Garcia Marquez
61 Of Mice and Men – John Steinbeck
62 Lolita – Vladimir Nabokov
63 The Secret History – Donna Tartt
64 The Lovely Bones – Alice Sebold
65 Count of Monte Cristo – Alexandre Dumas
66 On The Road – Jack Kerouac
67 Jude the Obscure – Thomas Hardy
68 Bridget Jones’s Diary – Helen Fielding
69 Midnight’s Children – Salman Rushdie
70 Moby Dick – Herman Melville
71 Oliver Twist – Charles Dickens
72 Dracula – Bram Stoker
73 The Secret Garden – Frances Hodgson Burnett
74 Notes From A Small Island – Bill Bryson
75 Ulysses – James Joyce
[I've read The Odyssey by Homer, does that count since it's sort of in it?]
76 The Bell Jar – Sylvia Plath
77 Swallows and Amazons – Arthur Ransome
78 Germinal – Emile Zola
79 Vanity Fair – William Makepeace Thackeray
80 Possession – AS Byatt
81 A Christmas Carol – Charles Dickens
82 Cloud Atlas – David Mitchell
83 The Color Purple – Alice Walker
84 The Remains of the Day – Kazuo Ishiguro
85 Madame Bovary – Gustave Flaubert
86 A Fine Balance – Rohinton Mistry
87 Charlotte’s Web – EB White
88 The Five People You Meet In Heaven – Mitch Albom
89 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes – Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
90 The Faraway Tree Collection – Enid Blyton
91 Heart of Darkness – Joseph Conrad
92 The Little Prince – Antoine De Saint-Exupery
93 The Wasp Factory – Iain Banks
94 Watership Down – Richard Adams
95 A Confederacy of Dunces – John Kennedy Toole
96 A Town Like Alice – Nevil Shute
97 The Three Musketeers – Alexandre Dumas [abridged version]
98 Hamlet – William Shakespeare
99 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory – Roald Dahl
100 Les Miserables – Victor Hugo
----------------
10 bold, 9 italics.
I am actually really ashamed of myself.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Ruby
Smack. Pain. Hot, stinging pain across her face and then crash and she’s on the floor. Her arm is throbbing and there’s a chair lying on its side next to her. She hears a step and then sees a shoe. The linoleum floor squeaks as she scrambles away. He blocks the door so she hugs the fridge for protection but it only gives temporary relief to her stinging cheek and arm. Just one more night. Another step and she presses herself closer to the fridge, turning her face away as his arm extends out. Her breathing is ragged and her body is shaking but whether it’s shaking from her fear or the vibrations from the fridge, she’s not sure. She grabs the first thing she can to try to fight him off even though she knows it’s no use. A whisk. She knows it’s pathetic but, in an act of defiance, holds it between them anyway. He laughs a big, burly laugh and looks down at her, kicking the flimsy kitchen utensil away.
One more step and he’s right in front of her, rough hands grabbing her, pulling her, hitting her. She can taste copper but can’t see clearly, all she can do is feel. Feel the warm, metallic liquid in her mouth, the tears on her face, the vice grip on her shoulder and arm and the pain. So much pain in her body that she can barely hold herself up without his help. I’m sorry. She’s apologizing but she doesn’t know what for except that it’s the safest thing to say at the moment. He asks her what she’s sorry about; demands to know if she did something she should be sorry for. He asks her why she’s crying, pulls her hair, shakes her around a bit, tells her to shut up. I’m sorry. The words echo around the small kitchen, reflect off him and bounce back to her, sounding a little bit more hollow than before.
Another shove and she feels something different; the corner of a table, the flat edge of the counter top, a crack, possibly a rib, and then the burn of the plastic flooring as she lands and slides. Her forehead collides with the table leg hard and the kitchen starts to swim. The fridge magnets are playing chess by themselves while the shelf sways in a dance and why are there two of him? Oh no, God no, please no more. He’s saying something but it’s lost in his shouts and the buzzing and pounding in her head. Just one more night of putting up with this. One last hard kick in the side then she blacks out.
When she opens her eyes, he’s gone and she’s left alone with the dim fluorescent lights blinking at her silently. She takes in a deep breath to steady herself, wincing as her bruised lungs expand and push against the might-be-cracked ribs. Pulling a drawer open, she grabs a towel to clean up the mess in the kitchen. The spill of blood and dirt make pictures and patterns on the floor as she wipes it back and forth. First a red cloud, then a meteoroid, then a bird, what looks like a smiley face next, followed by a love heart and then a crooked arrow aiming just off the door.
It reminds her of when they had gone kite flying once, years ago when she could still order off the kid’s menu, and sat watching the clouds while waiting for the wind to pick up.
“That looks like a fish, Daddy!”
“Yes, Ruby, it does.”
“And that one! That looks like a unicorn!”
“Unicorns don’t exist, Ruby.”
“What?”
The wind had picked up so he had passed her the coil of string to hold while he released the kite into the breeze and up it went, almost taking her with it. She squealed and laughed, running around following the kite until suddenly the wind stopped and it fell.
“Ruby, you’re not doing it right! Can’t even fly a bloody kite... Give it here!”
The kitchen floor is clean now and she stands in the bathroom about to clean herself off so she doesn’t dirty her bed sheets. He hates dirty sheets, even when the sheets aren’t his. Everything has to be pristine so that he has something to spoil. Her eyes follow the mapped out lines that the abrasions make on her skin, leading from one old memory to the next while her fingers trace the red, purple, blue and yellow designs painted all over her body. Just survive a little longer and then I can start again.
She turns the shower on and steps in, moving under the spray of water. The warm droplets hitting her face are a welcomed pressure unlike her earlier beating. As the water runs down her body, she feels the old and new cuts and bruises that she couldn’t see; all stinging and throbbing while the water turns a faint shade of red. She dries herself off when she’s done and pulls on some clothes before crawling into bed. The pillows and mattress cradle her like a baby as she falls into a restless sleep.
Morning comes around and the alarm rings, loud and demanding. Her eyes crack open and she can see the sunlight filtering into the room, greeting her with a cheery goooood morning, it’s a new day! Her aching muscles stretch painfully as she reaches to turn off the insistent alarm and gets up. She follows her morning routine, pulls her work uniform on and, checking that most of the evidence from last night’s attack are hidden, leaves.
She runs into her next door neighbour in the hallway on her way out and before she can get away, old Mrs Anderson calls out.
“Good morning, Ruby!”
“Morning, Mrs Anderson.”
“How are you, love?”
“Fine, thanks. Yourself?”
“Oh, I’m very well, thank you. How kind of you to ask.”
The conversation reaches an uncomfortable pause and she just wants to leave but Mrs Anderson has her feeling like she’s trapped. She opens her mouth like a goldfish, hoping for an excuse to come tumbling out but Mrs Anderson manages to jump in first.
“I don’t mean to pry, love, but I’ve been hearing some... noises coming from your place.”
“Oh...?”
“Yes... Is everything all right at home?”
The hallway suddenly seems smaller than she remembers and she doesn’t like where this conversation is going.
“Yeah, everything’s fine, Mrs Anderson. Why do you ask?”
“It’s just that what I’ve been hearing have sounded like fights, especially last night. Some shouting and loud bangs and I noticed the bruises on your legs.”
She freezes, unsure of what to do and feeling very much like a rabbit caught in a bear trap. Mrs Anderson’s concern and questions wrap around her like a hug she didn’t ask for. She’s suddenly aware of the itching cuts and scars, throbbing bruises and how empty she must look.
“It was just me being clumsy; I walked into a door. The shouting you heard was probably the TV Dad had on,” she says after a moment, please don’t ask anymore.
Mrs Anderson looks at her intently for a moment, worry and concern in her eyess
“Well, if you say so, love. Just thought I’d check. You should really take care of yourself, though, Ruby; you’re looking too frail and skinny and you never come around like you used to anymore. Come pay me a proper visit soon, all right?”
Mrs Anderson pats her on the shoulder kindly and she bites back a wince when it touches a fresh bruise.
She nods, “I’ve gotta go or I’m going to be late for work...”
“Of course, dear! Don’t let me keep you!”
She’s grateful for the chance to end the topic and quickly turns to leave.
“Oh and Ruby, happy birthday,” Mrs Anderson smiles, “Eighteen is a big change.”
Eighteen is a big change indeed.
The night begins like a repeat of the previous evening. No real reason for the hits and punches and kicks. Just cause he feels like it. Just because he had a bad day at work and can’t take it out on his co-workers but can take it out on his own daughter in the privacy of his home. Just because she’s still a kid to him and doesn’t fight back. Just because it was her fault his wife died eighteen years ago.
He slaps her and her head whips to the side, body following through so she looks like a rag doll colliding with the counter top. He grabs her and yanks her upright, pulls her right up to his face and she can feel his hot breath like steam off an iron burning clothes. He asks her a question but she’s not listening. Instead, she’s looking to where her bag lies, packed with what little she needs.
Bang. She’s on the floor again and can feel a slow trickle of blood tickling her skin. He asks her if that hurt, because if it didn’t, he’ll try again. Getting up, she looks him square in the eyes.
“No.”
One more step and he’s right in front of her, rough hands grabbing her, pulling her, hitting her. She can taste copper but can’t see clearly, all she can do is feel. Feel the warm, metallic liquid in her mouth, the tears on her face, the vice grip on her shoulder and arm and the pain. So much pain in her body that she can barely hold herself up without his help. I’m sorry. She’s apologizing but she doesn’t know what for except that it’s the safest thing to say at the moment. He asks her what she’s sorry about; demands to know if she did something she should be sorry for. He asks her why she’s crying, pulls her hair, shakes her around a bit, tells her to shut up. I’m sorry. The words echo around the small kitchen, reflect off him and bounce back to her, sounding a little bit more hollow than before.
Another shove and she feels something different; the corner of a table, the flat edge of the counter top, a crack, possibly a rib, and then the burn of the plastic flooring as she lands and slides. Her forehead collides with the table leg hard and the kitchen starts to swim. The fridge magnets are playing chess by themselves while the shelf sways in a dance and why are there two of him? Oh no, God no, please no more. He’s saying something but it’s lost in his shouts and the buzzing and pounding in her head. Just one more night of putting up with this. One last hard kick in the side then she blacks out.
When she opens her eyes, he’s gone and she’s left alone with the dim fluorescent lights blinking at her silently. She takes in a deep breath to steady herself, wincing as her bruised lungs expand and push against the might-be-cracked ribs. Pulling a drawer open, she grabs a towel to clean up the mess in the kitchen. The spill of blood and dirt make pictures and patterns on the floor as she wipes it back and forth. First a red cloud, then a meteoroid, then a bird, what looks like a smiley face next, followed by a love heart and then a crooked arrow aiming just off the door.
It reminds her of when they had gone kite flying once, years ago when she could still order off the kid’s menu, and sat watching the clouds while waiting for the wind to pick up.
“That looks like a fish, Daddy!”
“Yes, Ruby, it does.”
“And that one! That looks like a unicorn!”
“Unicorns don’t exist, Ruby.”
“What?”
The wind had picked up so he had passed her the coil of string to hold while he released the kite into the breeze and up it went, almost taking her with it. She squealed and laughed, running around following the kite until suddenly the wind stopped and it fell.
“Ruby, you’re not doing it right! Can’t even fly a bloody kite... Give it here!”
The kitchen floor is clean now and she stands in the bathroom about to clean herself off so she doesn’t dirty her bed sheets. He hates dirty sheets, even when the sheets aren’t his. Everything has to be pristine so that he has something to spoil. Her eyes follow the mapped out lines that the abrasions make on her skin, leading from one old memory to the next while her fingers trace the red, purple, blue and yellow designs painted all over her body. Just survive a little longer and then I can start again.
She turns the shower on and steps in, moving under the spray of water. The warm droplets hitting her face are a welcomed pressure unlike her earlier beating. As the water runs down her body, she feels the old and new cuts and bruises that she couldn’t see; all stinging and throbbing while the water turns a faint shade of red. She dries herself off when she’s done and pulls on some clothes before crawling into bed. The pillows and mattress cradle her like a baby as she falls into a restless sleep.
Morning comes around and the alarm rings, loud and demanding. Her eyes crack open and she can see the sunlight filtering into the room, greeting her with a cheery goooood morning, it’s a new day! Her aching muscles stretch painfully as she reaches to turn off the insistent alarm and gets up. She follows her morning routine, pulls her work uniform on and, checking that most of the evidence from last night’s attack are hidden, leaves.
She runs into her next door neighbour in the hallway on her way out and before she can get away, old Mrs Anderson calls out.
“Good morning, Ruby!”
“Morning, Mrs Anderson.”
“How are you, love?”
“Fine, thanks. Yourself?”
“Oh, I’m very well, thank you. How kind of you to ask.”
The conversation reaches an uncomfortable pause and she just wants to leave but Mrs Anderson has her feeling like she’s trapped. She opens her mouth like a goldfish, hoping for an excuse to come tumbling out but Mrs Anderson manages to jump in first.
“I don’t mean to pry, love, but I’ve been hearing some... noises coming from your place.”
“Oh...?”
“Yes... Is everything all right at home?”
The hallway suddenly seems smaller than she remembers and she doesn’t like where this conversation is going.
“Yeah, everything’s fine, Mrs Anderson. Why do you ask?”
“It’s just that what I’ve been hearing have sounded like fights, especially last night. Some shouting and loud bangs and I noticed the bruises on your legs.”
She freezes, unsure of what to do and feeling very much like a rabbit caught in a bear trap. Mrs Anderson’s concern and questions wrap around her like a hug she didn’t ask for. She’s suddenly aware of the itching cuts and scars, throbbing bruises and how empty she must look.
“It was just me being clumsy; I walked into a door. The shouting you heard was probably the TV Dad had on,” she says after a moment, please don’t ask anymore.
Mrs Anderson looks at her intently for a moment, worry and concern in her eyess
“Well, if you say so, love. Just thought I’d check. You should really take care of yourself, though, Ruby; you’re looking too frail and skinny and you never come around like you used to anymore. Come pay me a proper visit soon, all right?”
Mrs Anderson pats her on the shoulder kindly and she bites back a wince when it touches a fresh bruise.
She nods, “I’ve gotta go or I’m going to be late for work...”
“Of course, dear! Don’t let me keep you!”
She’s grateful for the chance to end the topic and quickly turns to leave.
“Oh and Ruby, happy birthday,” Mrs Anderson smiles, “Eighteen is a big change.”
Eighteen is a big change indeed.
The night begins like a repeat of the previous evening. No real reason for the hits and punches and kicks. Just cause he feels like it. Just because he had a bad day at work and can’t take it out on his co-workers but can take it out on his own daughter in the privacy of his home. Just because she’s still a kid to him and doesn’t fight back. Just because it was her fault his wife died eighteen years ago.
He slaps her and her head whips to the side, body following through so she looks like a rag doll colliding with the counter top. He grabs her and yanks her upright, pulls her right up to his face and she can feel his hot breath like steam off an iron burning clothes. He asks her a question but she’s not listening. Instead, she’s looking to where her bag lies, packed with what little she needs.
Bang. She’s on the floor again and can feel a slow trickle of blood tickling her skin. He asks her if that hurt, because if it didn’t, he’ll try again. Getting up, she looks him square in the eyes.
“No.”
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Don't do drunk blogs.
Note to self: Don't ever blog when angry and drunk.
I saw The Social Network last night and it was really interesting. I'm sure you probably know what it is but if you don't, it's about Facebook and follows the events surrounding its invention and the legal and social issues that its creator, Mark Zuckerberg, faced. This is by no means a review, I just wanted to post something up. This isn't really a spoiler but if you don't like knowing about a movie at all before you've watch it, don't read on.
The movie begins with Zuckerberg's girlfriend breaking up with him and as a result, he goes back to his dorm, angry and begins to blog on is Livejournal (ancient, I know :P), all the while downing beer. Not only is be drunk blogging but he's also programming Facemash, an online hotness voting website that allowed students from Harvard to rate the female Harvard students against each other. All in one night. Incredible. I was really impressed with that (nerd, much? I revel in my geekiness though).
The Social Network was really interesting (although I question how much of it was actually true), especially if you're a Facebook user. And even if you're not a Facebook user, it's still cool to see how it developed and just how talented a programmer Mark Zuckerberg is.
Since we're [kinda] on the topic of drunk blogs, this pretty ladeh is hilarious and this is her drunk blog post. Lolness ahead of you if you read it. Now go!
On a side note, I watched The Loved Ones tonight. It's this Australian horror-ish movie (I'm actually not sure what to classify it under) and I think it's the scariest movie I've ever paid money for to watch. I don't do scary movies. Ever. Ever, ever, ever! I went to watch it because it looked kind of interesting but mostly because Xavier Samuel was in it. I know, I know, silly. But he's so cute (even with long hair. I had to get used to that). Unfortunately, that didn't detract from the horrificness (that is now a word) of his torture. But you should go watch and support the Australian film industry!
Right, back to the point of this random drabble post.
Moral of the story is: never blog when you're drunk and angry.
I saw The Social Network last night and it was really interesting. I'm sure you probably know what it is but if you don't, it's about Facebook and follows the events surrounding its invention and the legal and social issues that its creator, Mark Zuckerberg, faced. This is by no means a review, I just wanted to post something up. This isn't really a spoiler but if you don't like knowing about a movie at all before you've watch it, don't read on.
The movie begins with Zuckerberg's girlfriend breaking up with him and as a result, he goes back to his dorm, angry and begins to blog on is Livejournal (ancient, I know :P), all the while downing beer. Not only is be drunk blogging but he's also programming Facemash, an online hotness voting website that allowed students from Harvard to rate the female Harvard students against each other. All in one night. Incredible. I was really impressed with that (nerd, much? I revel in my geekiness though).
The Social Network was really interesting (although I question how much of it was actually true), especially if you're a Facebook user. And even if you're not a Facebook user, it's still cool to see how it developed and just how talented a programmer Mark Zuckerberg is.
Since we're [kinda] on the topic of drunk blogs, this pretty ladeh is hilarious and this is her drunk blog post. Lolness ahead of you if you read it. Now go!
On a side note, I watched The Loved Ones tonight. It's this Australian horror-ish movie (I'm actually not sure what to classify it under) and I think it's the scariest movie I've ever paid money for to watch. I don't do scary movies. Ever. Ever, ever, ever! I went to watch it because it looked kind of interesting but mostly because Xavier Samuel was in it. I know, I know, silly. But he's so cute (even with long hair. I had to get used to that). Unfortunately, that didn't detract from the horrificness (that is now a word) of his torture. But you should go watch and support the Australian film industry!
Right, back to the point of this random drabble post.
Moral of the story is: never blog when you're drunk and angry.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Making Lists
I have decided that I'm going to [try to] start/do a bunch of things next year:
1) Get a job
- So I was supposed to get a job this year but uni started and I'm not the best at time management. I got really stressed during first semester whenever assignments and exams rolled around and couldn't really handle it. If I couldn't even handle that, how was I suppose to juggle that and a job? So I didn't get one in first semester.
Then I was supposed to get a job during the semester break but I went away for almost a month...
I actually started looking for jobs when uni started again in semester 2 but all that was available were full or part time positions or managerial positions when I needed a casual position. I suppose I'm a little bit fussy too...but just quietly :P. So anyway, I'm going to get a job next year when I get back from Singapore because I a) need the money and b) actually sort of miss working and c) need to stop mooching off people :P.
2) STOP PROCRASTINATING
- This is an important one. A very important one. Less procrastination = less unnecessary assignment cramming the night before = less stress = happier Des = better world!
3) Work harder
- I say this every year but next year I really do want to at least -try- to work harder. And I also know I say that every year too. Next year is quite important that I do try to work harder though. I'm off to America in the second half of next year for uni exchange but in order to go to the college that I've put as my first preference, I need a better GPA (grade point average). I could swap my preferences around and be dandy with the grades I currently have but I really do want to go Binghampton (mainly because it's the closest school to NYC :D) which means I need a better grade. Boo :(.
4) Be healthier
- This is also important and involves a number of things.
Firstly, I want to be getting more exercise so that means on top of doing ballet, I want to start running (we have a treadmill at home), take walks around my neighbourhood, go to Zumba (I'm dying to go to a class!).
Secondly, I want to be eating better. More veggies, more fruits, less sugar and unncessary carbs, less snacking. Things like that.
And thirdly, I want to be more flexible! Being flexible doesn't always mean you're healthy but under my other catagories for "being healthier", it kind of fits. I used to be uber flexible in year 12 because I was dancing everyday and I stretched because I was aiming for things (super flat splits, penches, higher arabesque, good strong lines, etc) but this year it just kind of died. Not that I'm not aiming for splits or high arabesques because I really am, it's just that I didn't have time to do a full stretch routine that I need to get my further and my muscles kind of shrank I suppose. It sucks. I want to be flexible again :(.
5) Help out more
- So most people don't know this about me but I really like helping people. Volunteering and doing community work actually makes me happy (when I'm not being forced to do it) and I feel good helping people. Even if it's tutoring a friend in something, helping out backstage, doing make up for friends for free, talking to a friend about an issue or problem and helping them through it - it just makes me feel good and happy and I feel like I need to do this more.
To Write Love On Her Arms holds internships for people over the age of 18 and I really want to go. It's a bit of a story to why I support TWLOHA so much but they're an overall amazing organisation and it would be such a priviledge to be able to intern with them, learn and help people.
6) Smile more
- Try to be happier in general, really.
7) Make lists!
- I was inspired by this to make lists. I think it's cute and a good way to keep track of the things I've been thinking, especially if I'm going to be in America by myself next year.
There are probably way more things to do but that's all I can think of right now. This was just supposed to be a quick post about nothing. Now I'm off to take a shower :).
1) Get a job
- So I was supposed to get a job this year but uni started and I'm not the best at time management. I got really stressed during first semester whenever assignments and exams rolled around and couldn't really handle it. If I couldn't even handle that, how was I suppose to juggle that and a job? So I didn't get one in first semester.
Then I was supposed to get a job during the semester break but I went away for almost a month...
I actually started looking for jobs when uni started again in semester 2 but all that was available were full or part time positions or managerial positions when I needed a casual position. I suppose I'm a little bit fussy too...but just quietly :P. So anyway, I'm going to get a job next year when I get back from Singapore because I a) need the money and b) actually sort of miss working and c) need to stop mooching off people :P.
2) STOP PROCRASTINATING
- This is an important one. A very important one. Less procrastination = less unnecessary assignment cramming the night before = less stress = happier Des = better world!
3) Work harder
- I say this every year but next year I really do want to at least -try- to work harder. And I also know I say that every year too. Next year is quite important that I do try to work harder though. I'm off to America in the second half of next year for uni exchange but in order to go to the college that I've put as my first preference, I need a better GPA (grade point average). I could swap my preferences around and be dandy with the grades I currently have but I really do want to go Binghampton (mainly because it's the closest school to NYC :D) which means I need a better grade. Boo :(.
4) Be healthier
- This is also important and involves a number of things.
Firstly, I want to be getting more exercise so that means on top of doing ballet, I want to start running (we have a treadmill at home), take walks around my neighbourhood, go to Zumba (I'm dying to go to a class!).
Secondly, I want to be eating better. More veggies, more fruits, less sugar and unncessary carbs, less snacking. Things like that.
And thirdly, I want to be more flexible! Being flexible doesn't always mean you're healthy but under my other catagories for "being healthier", it kind of fits. I used to be uber flexible in year 12 because I was dancing everyday and I stretched because I was aiming for things (super flat splits, penches, higher arabesque, good strong lines, etc) but this year it just kind of died. Not that I'm not aiming for splits or high arabesques because I really am, it's just that I didn't have time to do a full stretch routine that I need to get my further and my muscles kind of shrank I suppose. It sucks. I want to be flexible again :(.
5) Help out more
- So most people don't know this about me but I really like helping people. Volunteering and doing community work actually makes me happy (when I'm not being forced to do it) and I feel good helping people. Even if it's tutoring a friend in something, helping out backstage, doing make up for friends for free, talking to a friend about an issue or problem and helping them through it - it just makes me feel good and happy and I feel like I need to do this more.
To Write Love On Her Arms holds internships for people over the age of 18 and I really want to go. It's a bit of a story to why I support TWLOHA so much but they're an overall amazing organisation and it would be such a priviledge to be able to intern with them, learn and help people.
6) Smile more
- Try to be happier in general, really.
7) Make lists!
- I was inspired by this to make lists. I think it's cute and a good way to keep track of the things I've been thinking, especially if I'm going to be in America by myself next year.
There are probably way more things to do but that's all I can think of right now. This was just supposed to be a quick post about nothing. Now I'm off to take a shower :).
Monday, November 1, 2010
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