Trying My Hand at Football

One of my favourite memories in high school is playing football during phys ed classes in Year 9. I’m not fond of those times because I was good at or enjoyed the sport – quite the contrary, I was terrible at it. I look back with a smile because of one of my classmates.

JB was the son of a prominent football star, and everyone expected him to follow in his Father’s footsteps. What’s more is that he probably would – the guy was a gun at football and had every chance of becoming an AFL star after graduation.

You might thing I’d be intimidated playing alongside an ace like him, and you’d be right. I became even clumsier in my desperation to pass the ball to him, and I unfailingly tossed him the ball rather than passed it with my fist. After a whole term of enduring this, during the final match of the year I threw the ball to JB when the coach blew the whistle for yet another foul. It would have been easy for JB to turn on me for the incompetent sportsman I was, but instead he turned to the coach and yelled “He’s trying!”

The coach went through with the foul anyway, but I never forgot that JB accepted that my best was my best, and he didn’t blame me for it. It reminds me that all of us are doing our best to be happy in life, and from where I’m standing that’s good enough for me. I hope you all have JB’s in your lives to remind you of that from time to time!

To be…

It ends today, one way or another.

Note. I do not talk about my life. I refer to the hellish existence I have sustained for the past couple of days, particularly the last 12 hours or so. I have been ill, I have been stressed, I have lost much sleep, and today, it will all be over.


The date is November 19th, 2007. It is 6:09pm. I have finished my last TEE exam, and now have… I can’t yet think about how much free time I have. The prospect of time without purpose is maddening, and I suspect I will create purpose now that my intensive study has finally ceased. However, I will tell you that the moment we were given leave from the hall, I let out an insane and maniacal laugh that would have landed me in the psych ward had it been heard in any other circumstance. Besides, I wasn’t the only one, so I was barely heard above the ruckus. I seized Ben Caddy and gave him a hug, wrapped my arm around Mum with a cry of "Quick step, double time!" (and she started a funny little jog to keep up with me) and then went nuts. I saw an oval next to the car park, so Mum held my bag while I tore around its perimeter in a victory lap. I did rolls and jumps and cartwheeled everywhere laughing all the while. Mental, I say.

Now all I need is something alcoholic and my celebrations could continue well into the night. Ah well, f all that, I’m finished. Tomorrow, I attain Guitar Hero, my bus ticket for leavers, and drop in to see the physio, who said I can’t train until next year (alas!). I’ll ask him about aikido later, which doesn’t require kicking at all (Y). Wednesday is a glitch in the matrix, Thursday is Adventure World, Friday is a blank, Saturday is The Party, Sunday is leavers. Hohoho, too many people, too little time. I love you all. Except you over there. No, not you, behind you. Yeah, you. Get a haircut, noob.

I’m off! I have mentos and diet coke to scull! Peace, love, and rock and roll.


PS: This is the last "School" entry I will ever write. Damn that feels good.


So here I am. It’s 2355hrs, I just came home from Speech Night, and I don’t feel like sleeping. This entry probably isn’t going anywhere, and given my current state of mind it might be better not to bother. Nonetheless, starved for any kind of update, I’ll just write for a little while and see what becomes of it.

My hands seem somewhat disconnected from my body. My typing is slow, even, paced. My hands barely move, my fingers just shift to hit the keys. I can’t remember how long ago I started touch typing.

There’s a moth throwing itself at the light globe. It just won’t stop. I turn off the light. It rests, apparently quite contentedly, on the warm globe while I bask in the healthy white glow of my monitor.

Speech night was incredible for the first, and last time of my life. It actually meant something to me tonight. And when the prefects were announced, I was… the words, "We now hand it over to you and your team of prefects to lead the school"… That was strange for me. At that moment, I realised that we were no longer the important ones- our future was beyond the college and someone else had to step up to take our places. The prefects of 2008 are a fine bunch, and I see in Josh (Head Boy 08) what I saw in Nick Barbas (HB 07), and I do not doubt he will lead a strong year group to some triumphant glory.

Tomorrow, excuse me, today, is the last day of school. That’s an interesting thought. Five years of the place, I’ve hated and loved it alternately. Stupid emotions. Mostly hated though, so I can’t say I’ll miss the place. There are a handful of students that I will wonder about, but the rest of them are beyond my empathy- at least for now. I hope they all have good lives and stuff. Tomorrow, excuse me, today, should be spent doing something special. A bang to finish off the year- and the previous four. But I just don’t know what. I don’t really care much, but to finish with a bang is what John Watson always loved. Yeah, one last show for Watto.

I’m ruining lives. Is that true? Yes, and no. I do good things, but I do wicked things also. I can be such a bastard. For instance, Mum hugged me good night and told me that she loved me. I responded, "Do you? Thank you" and continued to watch my little flash movie on newgrounds about somebody being blown to pieces by an angry blonde chick. Didn’t even look at her. Didn’t get out of the car, either, and when I did, it was to look at the full moon pierce the silver clouds. There’s an orange glow on the horizon which is strange, but not unpleasant. I’m so mopey, so emotional. Stupid emotions. I don’t need you anyway. Go star trek, or whatever.

I can never hurt someone. I learn Taekwondo, but I can never apply it with the intent of hurting someone. I cannot imagine a scenario where I would consider it justified to hit a person. If they beat the shit out of, say, Mum, then… I’d call police and stand around to protect her. And should someone try and attack Mum while I’m protecting her, I’ll keep them away as best I can without actually fighting. At least, I say that now, but whose to say I won’t be swept with passionate rage and try and kill the assailant? Once again, it is emotion that foils me.

I’m so hungry. But I can’t eat, because you don’t sleep well on a full stomach. And sleep is important, especially as I’m depriving myself of it. Yes, I’m hungry.

Nick and Joe got very into fighting me today. I humoured them because it was something more structured, something I’m used to, where good technique can be applied with varying degrees of effect. In other words, I could control exactly how much I hurt them. Wrist locks and arm bars and stuff- lots of fun. I applied like four different ones to Joe, and it was recorded on a phone or two. I have to say I thoroughly enjoyed that, but I keep replaying it in my head. He steps forward and shoves me with both hands. I step back and deflect his arms. He steps again, and again, and finally I grab his arm and try and put a lock on. He waits patiently until I get it, and then suddenly he drops to his knees with the suddenness of the pain. I change the lock into an armbar and bring him to the floor. I change it back to a hyperextension, then I change it again and again… The movie starts again. He steps forward and shoves. I step back. He advances and I knee him, spin around behind and bring his legs out from under him with a clean sweep and a throat strike. I blah blah blah. Such a violent child, imagining and re-imagining all the ways I could have done it. And yet, I never would. All those knees, elbows, kicks, ridgehands, probably punches and stuff… I’d never really use them, no matter how good I am. And yet, I have the confidence that I could beat any and all of them, certainly one on one if not… neermind. no one cares, least of all me.

I lost my phone today, by the way. My phone is by far my most treasured possession. It’s saved my life more than once, by being someone to talk to when there was no one who cared. And I lost it. I couldn’t contact my parents so I walked home- heh. A few phone calls later, I checked if anyone knew where my phone was- if the Concert Hall cleaners had found it or something. Nope. Damn. Called Telstra, barred my simcard from use. They offered me a new phone, for free. Sure, why not. Cool. Still, my old phone was priceless, and would never be replaced. A few hours later, Reuben Joseph said someone found it, and I later learned it was passed to Doc, who passed it to Tobes, who answered it when Eugene called. Thus it was returned to me, and all is well in the kingdom once again.

Wow. What a waste of 37 minutes. I hope you didn’t spend that long reading this. Cheerio then.

PS. Crawled into a cupboard at school yesterday. There was just enough room to stand, or to sit if I hugged my knees. I was going to hide there from recess till some time during the next period, then casually walk out in the middle of someone’s class. What would they do, expel me? Seemed like a good idea at the time, but when I tried, I realised that I really couldn’t be bothered so I got out. Turned around and looked down, there was a spider an inch big sitting in the corner with me. Damn, that sucked.

To Anyone Who Cares

No, I don’t have the right to complain. I may have more things to do, but I’ve had more time to do it. And I just wanted to say that I’m quite stressed, yes indeed. So stressed that I wanted to call someone and tell them how foolish I am. Anyone. But I don’t want to disturb them if they’re studying or sleeping, so I’m going to just write a blog entry addressed "To Anyone Who Cares". Can’t imagine there’d be too many of you- not only am I a distant part of your life, you’ve got your own things to worry about.

So it’s Tuesday night. Tomorrow I have Music Literature and Applicable. I’ll get up at 0630hrs, do a little bit of work, go to school. Have my ass kicked in human biology and economics because I’m about two weeks behind on work.
Thursday is human biology, my literature oral presentation, and after school, a piano performance. Not even going to think about Thursday.
Friday is economics (sweet mother of Jesus), literature essay and music composition.

I have four chapters of human biology to read, understand and learn.
I have an applicable assignment to do by tomorrow, as well as notes to take in for the test.
I have to study, memorise, intimately understand and be prepared to write about two or more Gwen Harwood poems by Friday, as well as prepare for my speech on Thursday.
I have until tomorrow Period 2 to learn everything there is to learn about Ravel’s Piano Concerto, Copland’s ballet and Sculthorpe’s Kakadu.
I have two chapters of economics to read, understand and study.

Eugene just got home, so that’s the end of peace for me. Thursday night is the piano performance, so there’s three, maybe three and a half hours gone. Wednesday Eugene will be home baking cake and being an awful nuisance while Thank God You’re Here sends him into a strange delirium. All in all, if I were to do all the work I wanted to, it would take me roughly 15 hours, without a break. It’s possible, but that’s a very bad idea. So I’m going to go to bed now, get as much sleep as I can, and just hope that I don’t break down again before the weekend.

The more I think about these things, the more stressed I get. It’s gotten quite awful, so I’m just going to stop thinking about them, distract myself when I need to, relax when I can, and study, hopefully, when I should. Too late for long term plans. Now I just have to cram, do a test, forget everything to make room for more cramming, and hope all my scores are 70+. Hahaha, no problem. Avoiding hysteria, going to bed now.

Don’t know how I’ll survive whilst Eugene’s at home, but nature will find a way. Survival of the fittest, and if this is the end of me… Going to bed now.

Excerpts from my Journal

August 26th, 2006. 1925hrs.

Humans have come far enough. We preserve those whom nature does not favour. At times, we even revive the dead. Humans, so concerned with the trivial, are ripping apart the world. I wish I hadn’t told Angela Earth was worth saving. No one can help us now. Not until ALL of us want to help ourselves. Ya killin’ me guys, ya killin’ me.


Mrs Hay was going through her daughter’s dance night photos and, being the closest to the front, I joined her shortly after. Mr Lim was there too- as Mrs Hay went through photo after photo of pretty girls he wanted to see the bikini section. A little while later, I sat down as half the class crowded around the computer. When they realised nothing was happening, they petered off again. See? I’m a leader too! Anyway, when she announced she’d found a picture of her daughter, I was the only one who seemed interested. I raced up there and one or two people glanced up. My reaction? A very audible,
"Oh, wow."
Crude and witless jokes were shot at me, but I think Mrs Hay took it as a compliment. the girl inherited the best of both her (decidedly sub-par) parents. She had a beautiful smile, and an almost kalifian glow about her. I wonder if there’s some way to let Mrs Hay know?

7th August. 1231hrs.

In many ways, my spirit is breaking. These past months, years perhaps, I have trusted that if I lived naturally, I would survive. After all, nature’s greatest talent is survival. If I hurt myself, I’d think back to the earliest humans, before they invented medicine and salves, and tried to act similarly. By listening to my primitive instincts, my body would heal itself, just like the olden days- no need for medication or special treatment. Yet, for the first time in my life, I now contemplate seriously if nature has its limits. We spread to the far reaches of the planet, molding our environment to adapt to us instead of vice versa. Where is the balance? We farm other species, ravage the land, pollute the seas and skies. Why hasn’t nature restored itself? Maybe it’s been trying to, but it can’t. Not without help, as parasites spread throughout its entirety and drain it of its life. But who will come?


Imagine a figure, human if you want, lying in the dirt as maggots
tunnel into her. Other insects, spider things, creep across her skin,
draining the goodness of life (pure, white energy) from her. These
parasites glow a green, sickly colour as they spread into her
vulnerable wounds, burying themselves into her exposed flesh. Their
desire is to consume her, and as they do, excreting waste that burns
her. She writhes helplessly. There is no point in screaming- there is
no other to hear it. All she can do is struggle to survive by her own
strength as billions of tiny organisms are intent on sating themselves
with her life force.


I see two choices. Someone must destroy the parasites and replenish the lifestream, or otherwise the parasites must choose to stop abusing their host and hope that it can recover itself. Planting a tree or two might help, but at this rate, I can’t see how anyone can save poor Gaia.

Humans have gone too far, but… What can I do?

Another Wednesday

Thought it was time for a bit of an update. This entry isn’t going to have much in terms of structure, which makes me a poor/lazy writer, but I never asked you to read in the first place.

Didn’t have such a good day today. Woke up bright and early with a decent 7.5 hours sleep (compared to late 6 hours. Still, how can I complain when there are people getting by off 5, even 4 hours a night?) and arrived at ala College. Didn’t feel like doing the human biology study I had planned, ended up playing a game of chess with Matto-san. Chess is a rare thing for me- I’ve played three or four games in the past few years. I won all of them. Did I get better, or did everyone get a bit worse?

Period one was Human Bio with the Bitch Queen ’07. She wasn’t directly mean to me, but made a few remarks throughout class that were derogatory. I can’t stand her favouritism, and it’s my loss to actually loathe one of my teachers, but hell, she deserves the loathing. I didn’t learn anything in HB, and instead tried to cover for the fact I hadn’t done my homework. Need to catch up, methinks.

Period two was a frustrating series of aural tests in music. I completely blew it in most of them. That got my ego down a little, and at recess, I met with Jack to pass the time in a halfway amusing fashion. Unfortunately, he had to cram for a test (where his cheap-arse calculator broke. He later exacted his revenge by drop-kicking it, then smashing it against the wall. I thoroughly disapproved of the needless violence- it scared me a little, and left something of a mess) but we chatted about various crap anyway. At the end of the break, I felt rather bored with life.

I’ve turned vegetarian. I watched a documentary called Earthlings, which goes for an hour and a half, and is about the five uses of animals to human beings. It talks about speciesism- valuing one species over another. We’re all inhabitants of earth, and while we are concerned about crimes against humanity, the crimes against the rest of life are overlooked. Aye, not eating meat won’t change anything, and aye, I might inspire people to eat three animals for every animal I don’t eat, but out of respect for the animals whose lives were taken in captivity, I will do my best to avoid eating them. Earthlings is a bit graphic and highlights human cruelty- it’s not for the weak-willed. Watching a cow being hung upside down, having its throat slit numerous times, having its larynx ripped out before falling to the blood-soaked cement floor where it bucked and struggled… Yes, I apologised to that cow, and yes, I cried. God help me if that makes me less of a man. If you feel up to it, watch the first twenty minutes or so. If you don’t feel up to it, for whatever reasons, fair enough.

In study period I achieved nothing. Wednesdays are good days for me. Periods 3 and 5, just after recess and just after lunch, are spent studying/working, which is thoroughly productive and generally quite enjoyable if I can keep awake. This particular Wednesday, not so. I felt unable to work, and I couldn’t shut out the dozen conversations going on. Marsala kept trying to persuade me to kill certain people- it’s just one of those stupid things people pretend I have a reputation for. I ended up spending most of the period exchanging death threats with him and getting progressively more bilious. By the end of it, not only was I bored with life and all it had, I had become invincible. Someone could have stabbed me with a knife and I probably wouldn’t have been all that fazed by it. Nick was snapping scissors because, frankly, he’s an idiot and needs something to amuse himself at any given time. He started threatening to cut me, and I stood up, walked over, and complied to let him. He didn’t of course, so I moved my hand inbetween the blades of the scissors while he was cutting them. He moved his hand away, and I followed until he started beating me with the flat of the metal. I truly felt that there was nothing that would affect me. It transcended apathy, it was simply pure indifference. There was no point in doing my schoolwork, there was no point in living, really. Sure there’s good every now and then, but bad is far more certain. It’s not possible to live a perfectly happy life, but it’s possible to live something closer to an entirely miserable life. Why bother? When so much suffering lay ahead, why torture yourself into doing homework? No, the teachers could do what they wanted to me. If I could care less about being shredded by Nick’s scissors, like hell the teachers could harm me.

Period 4 was Applicable maths. Ever since my earliest memories, I’ve never been fond of maths. It was my choice, aye, but it’s a choice I’m comfortable with. I’m very far behind on the course and everything they talk about, the exercises they do, the things they practice and discuss, completely escapes me. I noticed, to my derision, that I was attention seeking. I just didn’t understand anything. I started hurting Liam, and even myself, in the hopes someone would notice I wasn’t feeling quite okay. If they did, they didn’t care, or didn’t respond. So I spent the period becoming increasingly desperate for someone to pay some attention to me, without success. I didn’t go for lunch after that, I just stayed in the classroom when it emptied, looking out the window at the river. Pretty river, that. Laurence Bye noticed and joined me, uninvited. He pestered me for a bit, and I ended up using Taekwondo (illegally. If Master Ross knew, I’d be in trouble) to hurt him enough to leave me alone. After that, Liam, Patrick, Richard, Henry, Mark and a few other people entered the room. While Jack was practicing his physics, I planned to spend lunch by myself, and was quite annoyed at the intrusion. I also (accidentally) speared Mr Tobin with some desks I was carrying for him- sorry Tobes. My bad. I contemplated going home. I knew I wasn’t going to learn anything in the following two periods so there was no real point in going there to suffer. All I could think about was playing Resident Evil- one of a half dozen pleasures in life. Annaliese, the school counsellor, wasn’t at school today so I couldn’t talk to her, Jack was busy, RE was all the way at home, and all the people I wanted to see were beyond my reach. So I crawled under a desk, curled up, and waited for everyone to go to class.

The bell for period 5 rang. I didn’t leave. The classroom was empty, and Henry had planned to stay there to continue studying even though he had to go to calculus. I decided to join him and play Pokémon Diamond, which I had brought to school for something to do on the train home. Henry chickened out (for want of a euphemism) so I just stayed there and played Diamond for 45 minutes. Joel Tavner joined me a few minutes in to do his chemistry assignment. Initially I had tried conversation, but Joel, clearly more experienced, admonished me for mentioning his name while there was a class next doors. So we spent the lesson whispering occasionally. Mr Porter walked in 10 minutes before the end of the period, and I stashed my DS before he saw it. To his credit, he basically waved us off as he began putting test papers on everyone’s desks for the Discrete test period 6. He’s a kind man, and I wish I could repay him somehow.

After that, things picked up. I played some Resident Evil (HOLY CRAP! Note to self: Do NOT shoot regenerators in the legs. They will crawl towards you twice as fast as they can walk, latch on to your neck, and freaking drain the life out of you), went to Taekwondo (Ross imparted more of his wisdom on me. It’s not about strength, it’s about precision. If it was about strength, I would never beat someone who’s stronger than me), did stuff. Neglected my homework. Spent more 43 minutes writing a blog entry instead of sleeping. Will be getting up in approximately 6.5 hours time for another fun-filled day of school. All in the life of me, I guess.

So yes. Not such a good day, but with the help of Pokémon, things picked right up. Ah my beloved pocket monsters- you’ve saved my life yet again.



Note to self: Anya + Wildflame.

Technical difficulties

Well damn. 6:05am the morning an assignment is due, and hey, I knock over a glass of water and destroy my mouse. Now what? Freaking hell, this has slowed me down by a few freaking HOURS. I’ve already lost 60% of my total mark because it’s two days late. Add on a broken mouse, that’s aggravation.

Karma, anyone? Heh, yet, despite this, I have ability enough to open up my internet and write out a blog about how enfeebled I am instead of trying to repair the mouse or do my assignment. Brigette Savvy-Walsh, if I ever write a kill list (I won’t), you’ve reserved a place.


This is not an entry. This is a two minute power rant. I only have two minutes.

It’s 6:20 am. Darned. I got up at 5:30. Woke up at 3 because I dreamed Eugene’s car was rolling down a hill. I threw out my arm as I chased it, and knocked over the glass on my bedside table. Swearing I cleaned it up. 5am, woke up from nightmares. School, leavers. Darn them. So that’s my second night of troubled sleep. What a whingey little bitch I am.

Why get up at 5, you ask? I’m sure you don’t, but anyway, to study. Why aren’t I studying? Because I feel filthy. Eugene stayed up all night, so of course he has little to no regard for the rest of the house. He trashes every room he enters while we sleep, and then goes to bed. I’ve been cleaning a little, but it’s too depressing. Ha. Depressing. Anyway, so I’ve settled for chaos. If I can’t live in immaculate order (a pipe dream if I ever heard one) I may as well trash the house, knocking things over and scattering accoutrement everywhere so I don’t have to clean.

Playing Resident Evil 4. Greatest most enjoyable game since Zelda Ocarina. Problematically, like Twilight Princess, my brother insists on watching me play. That in itself was tolerable- he’s spending time with me, enjoying a great text like I am. However, when it comes to the point he forces/blackmails me into playing every single freaking day, for like 30-60 minutes, it’s fuck off bullshit. I no longer play for enjoyment. Eugene breaks the suspension of disbelief, by gasping and saying "Ooh!" as if he knows what to do. Or "John behind you!" when a zombie-esque creature stumbles towards me. Yeah Eugene, I know. Stfu. Although, to my credit, I rock the house, and then some. What’s that? Six mace-wielding zombies surrounding you? Blow up that barrel, two headshots, a knee-shot, kick in the face, turn around, riot gun that sorry ass bastard who thought he could pull one over you. Oh no, three more! What’s that? They have shields? KABLOOIE!

Still working on that whole living thing. It’s been 6 minutes, so I’ll be damned, I’m time wasting. Half an hour before I should be getting ready for school. And although I keep thinking of Ivy and her workload every time I want to complain.. Ah hell, what right to I have to bitch like this? Well, I have the right to, but it’s not entirely fair or empathetic of me. So I’ll go now.

Just… one last question. Why did they leave the workload to Year 12? When we have 3 terms instead of 4 (you know, scratch 10 weeks off the calender) and study more information than the previous four years combined, why lay 3 tests a week on us? As well as assignments, and in my case, a theoretical 6 hours of practice (bullshit. Try half an hour) every day? Combined with my incessant and to a degree voluntary obsession with RE4, I think I’ll just go and lie down for a while. And not get up. Oh wait, can’t, Friday is tomorrow! At last. Well… Just three tests to go. I’ll stop whinging now. Blargh. 6:30.

"My life is based on order. Add chaos, and I cease to live."

Knives and forks

Am I eccentric like my brother?

It is without question that I’m downright weird at times. The things I appreciate, enjoy, respect… I stop and smell the roses- their fragrance is the most beautiful part of living. I prioritise, and often neglect the medium-long term in order to wallow in the glory of the short. I respect the horror genre, and Happy Tree Friends, and even to a twisted and despicable extent, murderers and even rapists, though I may hate them. I’m the most peculiar person I know. Case in point, last night on the spur of the moment, I helped a girl from PLC to her feet by offering her my hand. Additionally, I was kind of hovering over the shoulder of the French exchange student who’s name I know is impossible for me to properly pronounce, just clinging to the accent and romantic silkiness of his words. Damn I wish I had a French (or better yet, Spanish) accent. What a freak, no?

To cut straight to it, as the chorale lined up to walk on stage, Tom was being an idiot. The things he says like "Man, that was hell mad!" really bother me. He insults the English language- or perhaps he just uses it in a different way. Regardless, two minutes before a performance, standing within ear’s reach of the audience, was… for want of a better word, unprofessional. So, I did what I believed Leonard/Desmond would have done, and what Doc expected me to do. I told Tom to be quiet, although the words I used were thus:
"Tom, a gentle hush," I implored, raising my hand to quiet him. He stared at me for a few seconds, then loudly asked
"Are you gay?"
Everyone laughed.

I felt anger spark, and then suddenly a terrible cold. I turned away muttering something about stupidity. Yes, Tom is stupid (or at least acting so), and it’s more than I can bear. Why do these people have to be so… so… themselves? Trinity College seems to be the breeding ground for prejudice, but I suppose we’re better than most schools. But really people, am I so different?

I don’t think I have a place in Trinity. I never have, really, these four and a half years. Why start now with only some 8-9 weeks left?