Terminator vs. the Terminate Her

Networking sites have revolutionised the art of socialising. It's sensationalised friendships to the point of no return, people speak to you over keyboards (my friend calls them keyboard warriors, that made me laugh) who don't make eye contact with you in person, it's annoying and it's weird.

Without Facebook I wouldn't know half the useless shit I do about other people's lives. I'd have more time on my hand too.. to do shit like watch t.v. and eat, perhaps scatch my bum and maybe even in that order.

Now you can have more friends on MySpace than you do brain cells, more Facebook friends than the popluation of your city. Suddenly you get a slice of fame. You load photos for people to look at, you write shit to be read. It's bizarre.

Subsequently you can delete people out of your life. Again, it's weirding me out that you (collective) have so many Facebook friends who don't know shit about who you really are, and you can easily remove, ignore and avoid those who know you from a to z. I don't know what else to say right now, it's late. I'll be back.

Lemon-aid

I get it, life's been giving you a shit lot of lemons, maybe you've noticed, maybe you haven't, but hey, don't go ahead and you know, use AAAALLLL of them. You see you're starting to grow this face, this sour face, i saw it today, it looked painful, i wanted to reach out and hold your perfect little face with your perfect little nose in my hands but then again, i don't like to get my hands dirty. Hey, I was saving face on your part!
Here's a suggestion, if you're so hell bent on not wasting a single slice of lemon, seriously make some lemonade, it could be some cool lemon detox to help you wither away. Oh you could be so skinny! Promise me you'll give that a shot, I mean it's becoming difficult to watch you, you little puppy dog, trying so desperately but not actually succeeding despite your efforts being in vain. Watching as you build this image of yourself which you so desperately try to impress the world with, when you aren't really like that, so go ahead, use my advice, it's totally cool with me. I mean you're obviously a very intelligent young woman, in touch with all the latest trends and with a strong understanding of environmental issues, so I acknowledge that you're just trying not to be wasteful but come on, salvaging the left over juice to dip your hair in, really? You're a wonderful example of how good a dye job lemon juice can actually do since your hair changes from almost black to a nearly bleach blond in the most absurd way. It's lovely that you're trying so hard to juice these lemons for all they're worth but there's no need to put yourself through public humiliation, it's a good cause, however not that good.

Anyways, I just thought I'd lend a helping hand. You seem so pathetic and out of touch with reality, it's the least I could do.

This alarm went off in my head the second I saw that face of yours, so this is just a warning, faces like that often lead to them dreaded 'scary eyes' and you know how much people looooove them. So do yourself a favour, lose the 'look' it's totally not working in your favour.

Things I learnt today

1) Appropriate is sometimes a word substituted for boring.

2) When someone is in love they become delusional.

3) When someone is in love they begin to subconsciously make plans for the future with their loved one in mind.

4) When you point this out to that person, they will deny it.

5) Telling the truth is generally not acceptable.

6) Neither is lying.

Arabian Nights

I'll take mine in the morning. Strap myself in without a belt nor restraint but by those thick threaded loops creeping up the base of me, covering my thighs. Touching the calf and lasooing itself while riding the wind all around me, the magic carpet and I become one.
It feels like what a magic carpet ride could quintessentially be described as but still any words used to perfectly describe it would not be adequate for someone inexperienced.
I'm flying. I have the luscious grass beneath me, shorn so short it feels like velvet. This is like cycling in Thailand. Arms spread out, prepared having been measured in claps, I cut through the Earth's verticle field. Down a hill I sore and accelerate creating a change in flux. Euuuumf! Euuuuumf! So remarkable, this feeling of flight. So relatable to these early mornings where I'm wrapped in a carpet and thrown into the river. Never fear, I always escape to see another week and as a special token from my inner self, twig like bones break free from my skin- Magic carpet. Magic carpet you pull your thick threaded loops around my head and cover my eyes. Too much like wool, too many stands of fibre creating the illusion of one, I break free of your hold.
Carpet you'll mould. Drained I am, laying at the bottom with caps of gates, that'll soon be drained.
However you're magic; your magic. small bones piercing outwards from beneath my skin, magic gives me wings sans carpet, like a chicken, a pixie, a fairy, an angel. But not without the carpet. Magic belonging to, magic it is, carpet.

In This World

here are some things

1) I love long takes so fucking much

2) I'm fairly sure that I belive in aliens and UFOs

3)


that's it

My So Called Life

It's not fair that two of the best things in my life were ruined for me in good old two thousand and ten. You're so fucking dandy aren't you.

This should be a good year, things have been good you know. But you know what, good things aside, I happen to take it personally when my two favourite things are spoilt.

It's too unfair. Have you ever had something completely ruined for you? have you ever really? because it's the worst feeling in the world. It's actually the shittiest experience, you know, having something which you once loved so badly destroyed. It's so fucking unfair.

You know, shame on you people who do this bullshit. Shame on you. shame on you.

What's interesting is that I guess these things of mine which have been ruined are in essence my sanctuaries.
Have you got a sanctuary?
They're special places which obviously mean alot. By the way, that just then wasn't me trying to give a definition of what a sanctuary is, just me, you know, making sure that the importance of the word sanctuary is made clear... that and me just elaborating on a blog.

I guess I'll explain these sanctuaries of mine a little. One was a second life. Imagine that, a second life and legit, it was. This sanctuary was where we made time however now it's a waste of time. I can't even begin to explain it because there's no way anyone could understand if they weren't apart of it. And now it's been ruined. And that hurts so much. so so badly. to have something which you loved in incredible amounts change into something you hate, to have it deteriorate to that. AH GOD. It's the most painful thing.
The other sanctuary was no where near as fantastic as the other was but still meant a lot to me. I guess i can tell you about it but i just decided then that I'm not going to because i think the reception could be embarrassing on my behalf and i can't have this sanctuary ruined any further. Okay so imagine the perfect environment being polluted to the point where it just doesn't work anymore. The system in place just collapses. Now this effects everything originally apart of it, so that means the inhabitants. the populace can now no longer function at all because not only do they not have a home anymore but they're so accustomed to every minute detail of every condition of their original environment and reliant on them that they couldn't possibly adapt to a new one and they're left for dead.
sad isn't it?

God i just feel so fucking terrible. This weekend I've had the last straw with both these situations. I've really been pushed over the edge. I don't know what I'm going to do about it though... rage, i guess. I guess I could rage but I've already been doing that, so i guess rage further. It's really hard for me to fix these problems because they're being controlled by much higher powers. You know, it's just that it hurts so badly.

Try This at Home

You know, methylated spirits on open wounds has seriously got to be one of life's greatest joys.

Don't judge a slut by her cleavage

You know, I read something about Christian Louboutin and the women who wear his shoes once. He said something along the lines of the fact that he had strippers or hookers who came into his store wanting to look classy and he also had Park Avenue princesses who bought his shoes to look slutty. It's cool in both ways though, women wear his shoes to feel empowered. It's got me thinking though, about style and how it's done slutty.

It's fine to bare your skin. I don't really care and no one else's judgement should matter. But you've got to ask why? Why the deep cowl neck, why the deep backless dress that hits your ass, why the thigh high stockings, why the come-fuck-me boots, why the bustier, why the pins, why the Christian Louboutins? Do you find it aesthetically pleasing or are you trying to say something... Here I am: the teenage girl with more style than the next girl, I am an individual which is why I wear what every other indie-vidual wears, I may look slutty, but it's ok, I'm more stylish than other sluts.

I guess everything you wear is saying something about who you are. Even if you don't care for fashion, you'll still end up saying something by not trying. So when it gets down to the crux of it, it's the intention that matters. Do you really love that dress, or do you love what you think that dress will say about you? I think Christian Louboutins are incredibly sexy and I think thigh highs are too, but who needs to know that.. you or the people that see your skin? People are way too fucking easy to read through their fashion these days. You look at a picture of someone and you already make the assumption that "hey, I know who you are. I know what you stand for." Don't judge a book by it's cover..

Someone also once told me that when they knew that a man was into them, knew that they thought they were sexy, saw that look of lust in their eye, it made them feel beautiful. To feel fleeting moments of beauty through someone else's eye. Is that what dressing slutty is all about?

I dreamt a dream

here's one for old times' sake. While we may not have cashed in on the perfect (actually pathetic) excuse to avoid study this exam break as well as we should have, I mean to be fair I did in fact try semi hard this time around, here i am to make up for it. You see BlogBear did try save face and she did try very hard to single-handedly shine a light of support out to all the procrastinators out there, clinging onto the piece of wood, desperately blowing at their whistles trying to keep fucking distracted. And luckily for all those lost souls of the Atlantic BlogBear was there happy to accept your screeching call, unlike Dirtbag who's still coming to mature from her five year old self's dis contempt with them whistle blowing efforts.
You know, now that i think about it, BlogBear really is the savior. It's true about what she said, that I've been going to bed at a fat cat approved time. seriously, by 9.00 I start to freak out and by 9.07 i start upwardly rolling around and trying to find my misplaced blanket because you see, i just can't comprehend not being in bed by that time. Which makes this post in particularly interesting and brings me to the crux of it. You see it's 2.02 am. And why am i up so late? well self inflicted question, I'm writing an essay! uh-huh! yes i am :)!
You see there are these things called deadlines which, i have to say, i don't really know much about. I mean are they nice guys? well groomed? maybe they're the kind to stop talking humour or to stop probing wide mouthed responses when you have a bit of that flakey stuff which comes off of walnuts stuck to your front tooth instead of actually telling you that that little flakey thing is redesigning you as a hillbilly? or maybe they're a million other things, but the truth is i don't know what they're like because I've never met one. A deadline that is. I have never, in my entire high school life met a deadline. Not once have a handed in an assignment or whatever they wanna call it in on time. aren't you proud to be reading the wise words of such a dead beat. aaaaaaaaaanyways, my failures aside and back to the post, actually no, not aside, let us delve way back into them failures because here i am at now 2.09 am conforming to my non-elitist self. Yes, you guessed it, this essay that I'm writing is overdue. So overdue in fact that i was awoken this morning not by some character from a pixies song reincarnated as my fireplace but by my English literature teacher who had rung my home phone. what really got me beat up over this was that I'm mad about this woman, i think she's the coolest, I'd go gay for her, I'd do anything for her (except respect her as a teacher and hand in my work as she asks). And then it's just so embarrassing that I answered the phone unaware of who i was speaking to. It's not like i said anything wrong I just would have liked to have sounded cooler, you know, like worked in a Heart of Darkness quote into my greeting to the receiver. Anyways she was calling to firstly ask if I'd written my essay, "no" and then secondly to tell me that if it wasn't in by 8.00 Friday morning i would receive a zero mark. I wasn't really fussed by this but the reason it features in the post is just to let you know why I'm up now. And the point of that was to explain why it is that I'm reverting back to my old ways and bringing this darling blog back to it's glory days of impossibly large number of posts written during the only times we get to prove ourselves to all those people who don't even deserve to know us. ALAS, this post, right now, which you are reading is the post which is going to save your dear old pal Dirtbag from sweet dreams, that is this post or Freddie Kruger. your choice.

So I did actually have an idea planned for this post before it got boycotted by my need to fail and that idea was to tell you how my brother just got us chocolate.

and to understand why I'd want to share that with whoever chooses to read this far into a very pointless (debaters may relate this post to a spoon or a block of cheese or a sponge) post i must tell you about this grand epiphany i had a few weeks ago.

oh yes, a few weeks ago i suddenly realised that the only question which i really needed to ask myself at that exact moment in my life and time and space was why i had not yet realised the full potential of talking to my brother on fb chat. Now while i think I made it clear that I'm quite the deadbeat, you, reader, may not have made the link that this leaves me a little simple in some departments and am amazed a little more often than most people. so to me this was in fact a HUUUUUGE revelation and I laughed just at the possible things which i could say to him, like "yo loser" or "sup" or "cunt" or "mom's hell angry don't you reckon?" or anything. but you see something happened and i never got onto these grand plans of mine, however tonight, my brother did.

Scumbag
want me to get top deck chocolate from the shell?

and with that he made my night.

and with that (which is in reference to everything you just read) i continue to fail. yay.

AV-A-TAR

I had a dream that Dirtbag created Avatar into a musical with costumes as elaborate and sick as those off of The Lion King musical for my birthday.

Gotta live up to my dreams Dirtbag...

An exam induced dream

my dream the other night was me doing maths. actual maths. problem after problem after problem. And the music playing in my dream was Crackity Jones, over and over and over again. As I'm sure you can imagine, i was on a mother fucking roll.

You try it now, push aside the stone covering the entrance to your study den and find your Saddler text book somewhere on the ground covered in a mountain of abandoned study. As you wait for the drum roll to come in, pick up your pen, slowly in suspense, then go mad when it hits. How can you possibly not get caught up in a frenzy of calculus!


When i was little i used to see people in my room at night; their silhouettes made from the clothes hanging on my door nob. It had been a long time since I'd had experiences like this but when i woke up from this particular dream i saw the side of my fire place as a man. He was tall and thin, wearing a suit and a hat. In my morning mind, still making the transition into real life, I realised he was, Jose Jones. like duh!

anyways a second later he was gone and I guess then I had fully awoken.

No sleep tonight

Sleep > Study

I never do either.

I will never change.

I will never turn it around.