Yesterday, the day I've been waiting to be over for so long finally drew to a close, signalling the end of English exams forever. Goodbye Al Pacino and your egotism FOREVER. Goodbye Mark Baker and your nonsensical ramblings FOREVER. And Tim Winton, it's been fun and full of textual integrity, but it is time to move on.
So, basically I am insanely happy right now and have a little under a week before my next exam, which is giving me lots of time to relax and study :)
Also, you should all click on the following link and vote for my video review I made for a Quickflix competition to find a TV presenter for a new Entertainment program they are making. I would really really appreciate it if you did this for me - my video is the 'Neverwas 30 Second Film Review', but this link should take you straight to it.
http://apps.facebook.com/contestshq/contests/160243/voteable_entries/34034751?order=recency&view_entries=1
I'm really excited about this competition, and you can enter as many times as you like, so I may end up making more. If the runners of the competition like me enough, I may just have a 5 week TV presenting job in November/December - which would be beyond amazing!
Anyway, that's what I've been working on today - do you guys have any interesting stories to tell or things happen to you recently? I'd love to hear from you!
Well, until I type next...or you type next, which would be even better!
Wednesday, 19 October 2011
Sunday, 16 October 2011
And so it Begins...
Today is the day the HSC begins. For those of you who are not in Australia, the HSC is the final examinations students complete at the end of Yr 12 of school - the Higher School Certificate. I find myself less scared and more excited - I've had three weeks of holidays in which to study and I just want to get these exams over and done with so I can fully focus on achieving what I want to in life. On the 2nd of November I will complete my last exam and that date can't come soon enough, so that is why I am excited to get started. The sooner I start, the sooner I finish.
This afternoon is my first exam: Drama. I feel prepared and I'm not too worried, so all is fairly well. I am currently sitting outside, sipping my tea and writing this. I feel quite relaxed, actually. No doubt that will change in a couple of hours. It's odd, I guess it kind of feels like the calm before the storm...
Oh, I must tell you - I've been asked in for a job interview at the Joan Sutherland Performing Arts Centre/Q Theatre for job as an usher/bar tender. I'm very excited at the prospect of quitting McDonalds, where I have been working for the past 4 years! I really hope I get the job - I love the theatre and the atmosphere there (plus, the pay is better than Maccas and you get to sit in on shows :D) In a couple of weeks I will be able to tell you if I got the job or not.
Well, for now, I shall leave you and get back to some last minute revising and cementing of information and quotes into my brain for this afternoon.
I'll type again soon :)
This afternoon is my first exam: Drama. I feel prepared and I'm not too worried, so all is fairly well. I am currently sitting outside, sipping my tea and writing this. I feel quite relaxed, actually. No doubt that will change in a couple of hours. It's odd, I guess it kind of feels like the calm before the storm...
Oh, I must tell you - I've been asked in for a job interview at the Joan Sutherland Performing Arts Centre/Q Theatre for job as an usher/bar tender. I'm very excited at the prospect of quitting McDonalds, where I have been working for the past 4 years! I really hope I get the job - I love the theatre and the atmosphere there (plus, the pay is better than Maccas and you get to sit in on shows :D) In a couple of weeks I will be able to tell you if I got the job or not.
Well, for now, I shall leave you and get back to some last minute revising and cementing of information and quotes into my brain for this afternoon.
I'll type again soon :)
Monday, 10 October 2011
The River and I
As I sat and gazed over the steadily flowing waters of the river from my high vantage point of the Log Cabin, I realised just how lovely it was to not be at school anymore. You may not believe me, but I loved school. School was my life. I was surrounded every day by my friends, people I had grown up with and shared my life with, and so graduating hit me rather hard. However, it was such a beautiful day, and I was out to lunch with my father, taking a break from my study, and it really hit me that I was finally free to start to achieve what I want to achieve in life...well, in a couple of weeks, after my final exams. The beauty of my surroundings mixed with this realisation and sense of freedom and excitement and eagerness to start to accomplish everything I wanted to in life; it was a truly beautiful moment.
Saturday, 8 October 2011
Being Social...
I'm not the best at this. I mean, let's face it, I have a blog...
But I'm learning, I really am. I am observing and learning from the best so that one day I, too, may be social.
It's a delicate balancing act, however. You have to be really clever at beaming at everyone and hugging everyone and saying 'I love you' to everyone, whilst at the same time bitching about everyone to everyone behind everyone else's back. You also have to be really clever at being stupidly happy one moment and then bawling your eyes out the next...although I'm fairly sure the alcohol has a lot to do with that.
Alcohol. Yes, it is imperative to always - I mean ALWAYS - have a bottle or can of alcohol fused to your hand. I mean, if you didn't, how would you even tell it was a party? And don't try and get away with that 'holding an empty bottle' trick. No. If the bottle you are holding is empty, you must get a new one ASAP or risk killing the party.
The reason I have not yet reached socialite, I believe, is because I genuinely hate the taste of alcohol. I think it's revolting. People tell me to drink the funky coloured vodka drinks because "it just tastes like sugar" - then what's the point?! If I want a drink that tastes like sugar, I'll go and have a Coke or a Fanta and not have to deal with the headache the morning after or the random collapsing. I was at an 18th last night and I went and asked for a drink and the girl at the drinks table asked me if I was 18, to which I replied that I was but I'd just like a Coke. She gave me the weirdest look and a kind of "Oh...ok.." before handing me a can of Coke. Obviously I'd missed the memo that this was a party...
But I'm learning, I really am. I am observing and learning from the best so that one day I, too, may be social.
It's a delicate balancing act, however. You have to be really clever at beaming at everyone and hugging everyone and saying 'I love you' to everyone, whilst at the same time bitching about everyone to everyone behind everyone else's back. You also have to be really clever at being stupidly happy one moment and then bawling your eyes out the next...although I'm fairly sure the alcohol has a lot to do with that.
Alcohol. Yes, it is imperative to always - I mean ALWAYS - have a bottle or can of alcohol fused to your hand. I mean, if you didn't, how would you even tell it was a party? And don't try and get away with that 'holding an empty bottle' trick. No. If the bottle you are holding is empty, you must get a new one ASAP or risk killing the party.
The reason I have not yet reached socialite, I believe, is because I genuinely hate the taste of alcohol. I think it's revolting. People tell me to drink the funky coloured vodka drinks because "it just tastes like sugar" - then what's the point?! If I want a drink that tastes like sugar, I'll go and have a Coke or a Fanta and not have to deal with the headache the morning after or the random collapsing. I was at an 18th last night and I went and asked for a drink and the girl at the drinks table asked me if I was 18, to which I replied that I was but I'd just like a Coke. She gave me the weirdest look and a kind of "Oh...ok.." before handing me a can of Coke. Obviously I'd missed the memo that this was a party...
Friday, 7 October 2011
Dreams. My Other Life.
Dreams can be so real, so intense. Sometimes they are so good that the moment I realise it was actually only a dream I am thrust into a deep depression. Sometimes, however, the horror leaves you begging for consciousness. The following is a very intense dream I had a while ago, and I can only say I hope it doesn't happen again...
I’m walking my dog, Nelson – harmless and mundane enough. We’re walking up a road, which gradually turns into a grass path that winds behind houses. Ahead is a family sitting in their backyard, talking and laughing and having afternoon tea. As I approach, I realise it is the Badman’s, so I smile and wave and say hello. They reply in kind and I continue on my way, up the grassy path. The path leads to a park and Nelson runs off and finds a ball. I chase after him and when I reach him, he’s devoured half a basketball. He now proceeds to cough up bits of the ball and just stand there watching him, slightly worried about the amount of rubber he’s ingested. Suddenly he runs off and again I chase after him. A man in the distance throws a bone to his dog and it is immediately apparent that this is what has caught Nelson’s attention. Nelson leaps and catches the bone in mid air and sits down with his prize. I catch up and grab the bone from his mouth, giving it back to the furious man. I can understand his frustration, but he is exceedingly angry. A dog trainer walks up to the man and tells him that he should expect other dogs to chase after a bone if he throws it around. I apologise again and turn to leave when I hear a loud gunshot. Nelson collapses to the ground with blood gushing out of his head. I turn in horror to see the man pointing a gun at my dog. I run over to Nelson and trying to stop the bleeding, but it won’t stop flowing. No one helps me as I sit with Nelson’s lifeless and blood-stained body in my lap. I stand and turn to face the man who is just looking at me with a snarl stretched across his face. I point at him, but there is a gun where my hand should be. I just want him to be in pain. I shoot him in his leg twice before aiming at his chest and firing three shots, all the while staring into his dark eyes.
I’m driving. I’m in the school car park, leaving after an afterclass – the sun has already gone down. I turn down the road to exit the school grounds, but the road is blocked because of construction. I can’t see a way around it, and eventually a construction man walks up to my car and informs me that I’m stuck here. I tell him that I just want to go home because I’ve finished school for the day, but he gets angry and yells at me, telling me there’s no way out. I’m stuck here. I get out of the car to reason with this man, but Mr Osborne and two other men who I can’t quite make out come running up to me. The two men grab me by the arms and Mr Osborne checks my jacket for a gun. It tickles and I squirm and laugh, asking what on earth is going on. Mr Osborne tells me to go back into the school. I ask why and the two men pull out a gun and point them at the back of my head, forcing me back towards the school. I’m terrified and the epitome of confused. I plead with them, telling them that the guns really aren’t necessary, that I’ll go by myself. I pass by Jeremy and Mr Cooney. They both have tears streaming down their faces and are reaching out to me, but they can’t do anything. As I look to them, one of the men puts their gun inside my mouth and pushes it against the roof of mouth. I freeze. I can taste the metal. I can feel tears fall down my face, but I just stare at the man and don’t move a muscle, terrified that the slightest movement will make the gun go off. The other man pushes me in the back with the tip of his gun and I’m walking again, one gun at the back of my head, another against the roof of my mouth. I’m taken to a room, completely unaware of what is going on. An argument breaks out between the two men and I am told to hold the gun in my mouth myself so he doesn’t have to. I’m standing in the corner of a room, holding a gun to the roof of my mouth, watching two men argue over something I can’t make out. I don’t know what to do. I’m desperate. The man now without a gun steps in front of me, facing the man he is arguing with. Without thinking, I grab him around the neck and shoot him with his gun. I try to shoot the other man to in more or less one motion, but I forget to reload. I panic and fumble, trying to reload. It’s too easy for the man. He takes one look at me and shoots me in the neck. Everything goes fuzzy. I fall to the ground, trying to breathe. I feel my neck throbbing. Blackness.
I’m sitting in an auditorium, packed to the walls with people so there’s barely any room to move. We’re waiting for something. A show, perhaps? Perhaps a speech from our leader. There are cameras everywhere. A man walks onto the stage, holding a hat. He grins at everyone present and announces that he has a real treat for us tonight. He scans the crowd and his eyes pause on a girl sitting next to me. He walks down from the stage and over to her, holding out the hat. He bends over and whispers to her, but I hear what he says. He’s telling her to put on a ring that she’ll find in the hat. The girl looks to me with pain in her eyes, telling me she can’t wear rings. I don’t question why, but offer to do so in her place. The man passes the hat to me and I put my hand inside, find the ring and place it on my finger. The man returns to the stage and tells me to raise my hand in the air. I do so with a dramatic flourish and somewhere in the distance there is an explosion and a billowing of flame. The whole auditorium gasps and I grin at the special effect. The man tells me to try again, so again I raise my hand with a flourish. This time, the explosion is much closer. I hear wailing and screaming. I turn to see a woman cradling a charred body. I look closer at the people around me. Everyone is holding a flaming stick. The man warns me not to turn around, but try it again. Without thinking, I do so. Someone else’s flaming stick explodes and there is more screaming. I turn with horror to the man on the stage who is just smiling at me, nodding his head, gesturing for me to go again. I feel sick. I go to look around me again, but he tells me quite clearly that I do not want to be doing that. The girl sitting next to me is just staring blank faced at me. The man on the stage stares straight into my eyes. I shiver. “The only way to end this is to finish it.” I raise my hand again and flinch, waiting for the explosion. This time it is further away, but just as distinct. Everyone in the auditorium is staring at me, clutching their flaming sticks which at any moment could mean their death. I know the man is right. The only way to end this is to finish it and hope to survive. The best thing I can do is make it happen quickly, stop drawing it out. I raise my hand ten times in quick succession and ten sticks explode, filling the room with a haze of smoke and more screams. I continue to raise my hand. I am now holding a flaming stick myself. Every time I raise my hand, it could be me. The only way to end this is to finish it. I lose count of the amount of times I raise my hand, flinching each time, readying myself for death. Finally, the man on the stage orders me to stop. I look around me, barely a hundred people remain of the thousands that filled the room. This is it. We’ve survived. We’re the survivors. It is finished. I turn and look around me again, looking into the faces of the survivors. A line of cloaked figures walk through the seated people and as I look closer, I feel sick. They are handing out more flaming sticks. It is not over. We’re here for round two. The man on the stage nods at me. I shake my head in disbelief. He nods again. Tears of horror, disgust and anger blur my vision. I raise my hand. My stick explodes.
I am in a desert, surrounded by dunes. I am dead. I look down and see pebbles and rock racing together to form a figure lying in the sand. I see my body begin to take form. First my head, then my body. All around me figures are being shaped. Men and women and children are taking form. The bodies of the dead surround me.
I’m walking my dog, Nelson – harmless and mundane enough. We’re walking up a road, which gradually turns into a grass path that winds behind houses. Ahead is a family sitting in their backyard, talking and laughing and having afternoon tea. As I approach, I realise it is the Badman’s, so I smile and wave and say hello. They reply in kind and I continue on my way, up the grassy path. The path leads to a park and Nelson runs off and finds a ball. I chase after him and when I reach him, he’s devoured half a basketball. He now proceeds to cough up bits of the ball and just stand there watching him, slightly worried about the amount of rubber he’s ingested. Suddenly he runs off and again I chase after him. A man in the distance throws a bone to his dog and it is immediately apparent that this is what has caught Nelson’s attention. Nelson leaps and catches the bone in mid air and sits down with his prize. I catch up and grab the bone from his mouth, giving it back to the furious man. I can understand his frustration, but he is exceedingly angry. A dog trainer walks up to the man and tells him that he should expect other dogs to chase after a bone if he throws it around. I apologise again and turn to leave when I hear a loud gunshot. Nelson collapses to the ground with blood gushing out of his head. I turn in horror to see the man pointing a gun at my dog. I run over to Nelson and trying to stop the bleeding, but it won’t stop flowing. No one helps me as I sit with Nelson’s lifeless and blood-stained body in my lap. I stand and turn to face the man who is just looking at me with a snarl stretched across his face. I point at him, but there is a gun where my hand should be. I just want him to be in pain. I shoot him in his leg twice before aiming at his chest and firing three shots, all the while staring into his dark eyes.
I’m driving. I’m in the school car park, leaving after an afterclass – the sun has already gone down. I turn down the road to exit the school grounds, but the road is blocked because of construction. I can’t see a way around it, and eventually a construction man walks up to my car and informs me that I’m stuck here. I tell him that I just want to go home because I’ve finished school for the day, but he gets angry and yells at me, telling me there’s no way out. I’m stuck here. I get out of the car to reason with this man, but Mr Osborne and two other men who I can’t quite make out come running up to me. The two men grab me by the arms and Mr Osborne checks my jacket for a gun. It tickles and I squirm and laugh, asking what on earth is going on. Mr Osborne tells me to go back into the school. I ask why and the two men pull out a gun and point them at the back of my head, forcing me back towards the school. I’m terrified and the epitome of confused. I plead with them, telling them that the guns really aren’t necessary, that I’ll go by myself. I pass by Jeremy and Mr Cooney. They both have tears streaming down their faces and are reaching out to me, but they can’t do anything. As I look to them, one of the men puts their gun inside my mouth and pushes it against the roof of mouth. I freeze. I can taste the metal. I can feel tears fall down my face, but I just stare at the man and don’t move a muscle, terrified that the slightest movement will make the gun go off. The other man pushes me in the back with the tip of his gun and I’m walking again, one gun at the back of my head, another against the roof of my mouth. I’m taken to a room, completely unaware of what is going on. An argument breaks out between the two men and I am told to hold the gun in my mouth myself so he doesn’t have to. I’m standing in the corner of a room, holding a gun to the roof of my mouth, watching two men argue over something I can’t make out. I don’t know what to do. I’m desperate. The man now without a gun steps in front of me, facing the man he is arguing with. Without thinking, I grab him around the neck and shoot him with his gun. I try to shoot the other man to in more or less one motion, but I forget to reload. I panic and fumble, trying to reload. It’s too easy for the man. He takes one look at me and shoots me in the neck. Everything goes fuzzy. I fall to the ground, trying to breathe. I feel my neck throbbing. Blackness.
I’m sitting in an auditorium, packed to the walls with people so there’s barely any room to move. We’re waiting for something. A show, perhaps? Perhaps a speech from our leader. There are cameras everywhere. A man walks onto the stage, holding a hat. He grins at everyone present and announces that he has a real treat for us tonight. He scans the crowd and his eyes pause on a girl sitting next to me. He walks down from the stage and over to her, holding out the hat. He bends over and whispers to her, but I hear what he says. He’s telling her to put on a ring that she’ll find in the hat. The girl looks to me with pain in her eyes, telling me she can’t wear rings. I don’t question why, but offer to do so in her place. The man passes the hat to me and I put my hand inside, find the ring and place it on my finger. The man returns to the stage and tells me to raise my hand in the air. I do so with a dramatic flourish and somewhere in the distance there is an explosion and a billowing of flame. The whole auditorium gasps and I grin at the special effect. The man tells me to try again, so again I raise my hand with a flourish. This time, the explosion is much closer. I hear wailing and screaming. I turn to see a woman cradling a charred body. I look closer at the people around me. Everyone is holding a flaming stick. The man warns me not to turn around, but try it again. Without thinking, I do so. Someone else’s flaming stick explodes and there is more screaming. I turn with horror to the man on the stage who is just smiling at me, nodding his head, gesturing for me to go again. I feel sick. I go to look around me again, but he tells me quite clearly that I do not want to be doing that. The girl sitting next to me is just staring blank faced at me. The man on the stage stares straight into my eyes. I shiver. “The only way to end this is to finish it.” I raise my hand again and flinch, waiting for the explosion. This time it is further away, but just as distinct. Everyone in the auditorium is staring at me, clutching their flaming sticks which at any moment could mean their death. I know the man is right. The only way to end this is to finish it and hope to survive. The best thing I can do is make it happen quickly, stop drawing it out. I raise my hand ten times in quick succession and ten sticks explode, filling the room with a haze of smoke and more screams. I continue to raise my hand. I am now holding a flaming stick myself. Every time I raise my hand, it could be me. The only way to end this is to finish it. I lose count of the amount of times I raise my hand, flinching each time, readying myself for death. Finally, the man on the stage orders me to stop. I look around me, barely a hundred people remain of the thousands that filled the room. This is it. We’ve survived. We’re the survivors. It is finished. I turn and look around me again, looking into the faces of the survivors. A line of cloaked figures walk through the seated people and as I look closer, I feel sick. They are handing out more flaming sticks. It is not over. We’re here for round two. The man on the stage nods at me. I shake my head in disbelief. He nods again. Tears of horror, disgust and anger blur my vision. I raise my hand. My stick explodes.
I am in a desert, surrounded by dunes. I am dead. I look down and see pebbles and rock racing together to form a figure lying in the sand. I see my body begin to take form. First my head, then my body. All around me figures are being shaped. Men and women and children are taking form. The bodies of the dead surround me.
Why, hello there...
How are you? I do hope you are well...if not, I hope you recover quickly, or as the saying goes "Get Well Soon" - I've always found that statement to be a bit abrasive, however. "Get well soon!!" "Ok, ok, I'm sorry!"
I digress.
We meet here, in cyberspace, not knowing each other, and yet somehow fascinated in who the other is. I sit here, terribly afraid that I may not end up having anything of great importance to say, while you sit there quietly hoping to find some small piece of amusement or interest as you spend the next hour or so procrastinating from whatever it is you know you should be doing, but have cleverly and thoroughly convinced yourself that it can be done later.
I, personally, should be studying for some rather important and fast approaching exams, however I find myself entirely void of all motivation whatsoever. Perhaps you are in the same boat? Another odd phrase, as neither of us is in a boat. Well, I am certainly not. You may be, however - I shouldn't rule the possibility out entirely.
If you are reading this, be it on a boat or otherwise, I do hope that you will stick with me as I converse from time to time. Perhaps you will find yourself commenting and replying? I should very much like that. I would then be able to change my title from 'Ramblings' to 'Conversations' with a Creative.
Do you consider yourself creative? How do you express your creativity? I love making films, and I've entered two films into a film festival called Ignite Short Film Festival, along with a friend of mine. I also like to sing and write, but above all else I love to act. The freedom and expression gained through acting is...indescribable. You'll probably hear a lot about my acting pursuits, achievements and failures - I would love for you to share your pursuits and achievements and failures, of any kind, with me too. I would love this to be very much two sided. I don't even know if anyone will end up ever reading this, it's all a bit of a mystery to me, so if you are out there and you are reading this, let me know - I would love to converse with you.
Well, until we type again...
I digress.
We meet here, in cyberspace, not knowing each other, and yet somehow fascinated in who the other is. I sit here, terribly afraid that I may not end up having anything of great importance to say, while you sit there quietly hoping to find some small piece of amusement or interest as you spend the next hour or so procrastinating from whatever it is you know you should be doing, but have cleverly and thoroughly convinced yourself that it can be done later.
I, personally, should be studying for some rather important and fast approaching exams, however I find myself entirely void of all motivation whatsoever. Perhaps you are in the same boat? Another odd phrase, as neither of us is in a boat. Well, I am certainly not. You may be, however - I shouldn't rule the possibility out entirely.
If you are reading this, be it on a boat or otherwise, I do hope that you will stick with me as I converse from time to time. Perhaps you will find yourself commenting and replying? I should very much like that. I would then be able to change my title from 'Ramblings' to 'Conversations' with a Creative.
Do you consider yourself creative? How do you express your creativity? I love making films, and I've entered two films into a film festival called Ignite Short Film Festival, along with a friend of mine. I also like to sing and write, but above all else I love to act. The freedom and expression gained through acting is...indescribable. You'll probably hear a lot about my acting pursuits, achievements and failures - I would love for you to share your pursuits and achievements and failures, of any kind, with me too. I would love this to be very much two sided. I don't even know if anyone will end up ever reading this, it's all a bit of a mystery to me, so if you are out there and you are reading this, let me know - I would love to converse with you.
Well, until we type again...
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