You are currently browsing the category archive for the 'youtube' category.
But no one will ever win. Think about that.
Tuesday: around 10.45
I reluctantly get off msn to my mother yelling at me for not doing enough work – starting work but not finishing – not giving her my washing which was subsequently followed by “well don’t fucking wash them I’ll wear a dirty shirt like I care” “yes because that’s what we do Sarah, wear dirty shirts… If you weren’t so focused on the internet and you concentrated more on work…” At which point she was on the track of her usual daily rant about me not putting enough time into school work and not being focused on what is important. Fortunately cut short, unfortunately by a huntsman spider on her wall. We live in a two story house and the 2nd story is generally warmer which I guess is the reason why there are always huntsman spiders on the level my parents and I live on. Problem 1 – my dad, although generally acceptable when it comes to getting rid of a spider (who cares how), is actually in
Kiribati at this moment (I think) and so he is unreachable. Also my brother (19) has begun to see the house as a kind of drop in point amongst his prime concerns, being; his girlfriend, work, his girlfriend, uni and his girlfriend – hence being unavailable as well (although he isn’t much use in terms of getting rid of spiders anyway – preferring the method of capture with a clear bucket so you are as far away as possible.) Then there is my mother – I really think she has arachnophobia (fear of spiders), I really do. The second I heard “oh SHIT” I didn’t even need to ask, I asked anyway, probably for my own amusement. She followed up with some short bursts of cursing Tim (my brother) and some crying. I’m not sure why though, I think she honestly thought I would be cruel enough to leave her standing in the hallway 8m away from the spider like it could jump and attach itself onto her neck. “Stop crying, why the heck do you need to get so worked up its only a spider” and yes I am all talk. Problem 2 – the spider, fucking genius, was crouched in its perfect little spot where its utopia, the curtain, was only cm’s away. I fucking hate spiders – tiny heads yet they’re smart enough to hide where their hardest to get rid of. Anyway so I had to make my mum stand 4m away (which was a stretch for her) then I had to pull the curtain back with my hand (my hand, honestly, my brother should be doing this stuff.) Armed with a rolled up newspaper, a shoe, and fly spray – Fully equipped coz this spider was hugeeeee… ok no… but it was an average size. The spider ran – I wasn’t really expecting that and I wasn’t close enough to it so I aimed and pegged the rolled up newspaper at it. My mum is the type of person who will stand very far away but still scream and shout like they were a rulers length away.. Luckily enough it was a perfect shot.. But it just made the spider fall onto the ground gracefully, a bit hurt, but well enough to run towards mums bed. With nothing to throw but what was on hand, I resorted to throwing the flyspray, which only smashed the can into bits and had foamy shit spraying all over her floor. Now this is about almost the only time I can get away with screaming fuck as loud as I can. So I clearly took advantage of this opportunity with a nice loud “FUCKKKK” – then the smarmy little spider decides to run up onto mums bed “it’s on your fucking bed mum” (oops she didn’t like that idea) – high pitched sounds, something along the lines of “get me a shoe” followed by mum running around trying to find me a shoe… then I flicked it onto the ground… it still tried to run. I lined up the (ugly) brown sandal and brought it down harder than I planned to with mum cheering “YES! Kill it!” – We are quite the murderers, my family. “My hero”… then I vacuumed the remnants of body left, and went to bed.
It only took me something like 5 minutes to kill the spider – but dead set when I was finished I was breathing harder than when I play soccer and I was shaking really fucking bad. I really fucking hate spiders. (ps you can say thanks for the pointless story… I really dont care.)
D.A.N.C.E
Rehab for catholics – “we’ll brainwash your kids for a fuck load of money”
Firstly, before I go into my usual bitter rant, I would like to point out that I am not disagreeing with the idea of “time away from it all” – What i disagree with is the idea of forceful enlightenment.
Sure, some people enjoy the idea of getting close to nature, speaking to people you have never spoken to before, becoming closer to teachers – The ideal of ultimate escape.
To me, retreat is about forcing people to open up – on a schedule. To get people up early and go to bed late – after mulitple “sessions” – Retreat makes those, who do not feel the need to join in with a bunch of over the top, screaming and dancing people, feel like dirt. Spiritual enlightenment? At which point will I find spiritual enlightenment? Whilst you crush the spirits, and shake your head in disapproval at those who don’t need to change to have a better sense of well being.
Where are the joys of retreat that were proimised to frequently? Where they the many sessions in which we prayed – I’m not even sure why, or the group tasks – which seemed to revolve around simplistic aims (do you assume we as females are incapable of analysing feelings or reflect without the use of drawing or painting?)
I hate the fact that on the last retreat of year 12 – of school – ever – I could not find anything to be serious about. There was nothing to analyse. No real issues. Nothing to “pray” for. I’m guessing the main reason you were unsuccessful in your attempts to somehow change my demeanour was due to the fact that I simply cant involve myself in that which has no real point. Yet I felt like a bad person – for sitting down while everyone was jumping around, dancing and smiling.
I got home – feeling nothing different – no sense of well being (that i was promised), no sense of being somehow useful, ultimately no sense of release – life just goes back to the continuous push for better marks at school.
The memories that I wont forget? The prayer? The tranquility? Highly doubted… Rather the way we pressed ourselves against the glass door of our room, screamed at the “friendly” possums, went psycho about walking into a spiderweb and ran down the walkway jumping and hitting each other, our “out of control” imitation 2 stepping and the best hand made fort – which was soon ruined.
Me and Jesi
The Fort and Mal
The fort being crushed by me and Emily… anddd then Emily crushing me – we pride ourselves on being over dramatic (the teachers had the room next to us… oh shame for them.)
Rehab is for quitters – I guess I don’t like to quit.
Recent Comments