Pa.

"Well there was never any water out at the creek when I was a young fella, so we just didn't learn. And no basterd'd ever bloody seem to want to teach you. A half-caste tried to teach me once down at that river when I was about your age, but it was bloody hopeless" - Pa, on not being able to swim.

My grandfather is probably the most cliche Australian I know. He's one of those people that manages to be absolutely hilarious without trying or intending to at all.

I'm always on my phone, especially lately, partly because I joined the legions of pompous iPhone owners and partly because I am and have always been a person that desires continuous social interaction, especially when life isn't the best. Pa's latest method of chiding me about it is questioning whether whatever else I'm doing/saying is on the phone. Eg, I'm making us lunch and read a text message: "does that thing make the sandwhich for you does it?" or we're discussing who we think will win the tennis "that thing knows does it?". It's certainly a progression of sophistication from "I do NOT know why you ALWAYS have to be on that bloody thing". He asked me what time my sister was working today and I opened my phone to look at the picture I took of our roster. "I suppose that thing knows does it?" "Yeah actually, cos I've got a photo of the roster on here, see, she starts at one". Cracked me up. He hasn't used it again since but it won't be long.

Whatever.

I've felt like writing a lot in the past few days, but now that I'm actually sitting down here to do it, I'm not sure what to say. It's not so much a lack of things to say, more that there is too much to say.

Twenty Twelve so far, has been a hectic year. Nana is sick and not getting better, Dad and Stepmother are breaking up in an INSANE EXTREME way, Dad is facing charges for a crime he didn't commit, I was broken up with on my 21st birthday. Out of my little world, my dad's sister and her family are facing a whole host of serious issues that have affected my cousins in awful, awful ways. I need to write about all these things, but it's an effort to know where to start, what to put first. I'll probably just end up talking about how Maggie wouldn't let me fucking sleep last night because she's a fucktard or something.

Most days I'm not unhappy though. I just need to get out of the house and away from my own thoughts. Work has been my salvation, in a weird sense. I'm home from uni for the holidays, working at the same restaurant/bar/winery/function centre that I do most holidays. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have that to turn my head off from everything else.

I guess I'd write in here, because that's what I do if I can't stop thinking about something. I've got little half notes of things I've been writing everywhere when I'm thinking about this that or the other. Lists and all kinds of bullshit that I don't really know why I write. This is a bit more structured, which is nice, there's a necessity to make the words actually functional and rereadable.

Now I'm back to the same point of not knowing what to say, or what to start with, so I'm just going to bitch about irrelevent things that are bothering me. Mainly, that I can't get into the staff page for my job in my unitown. I've evidently forgotten my password but I can't for the life of me think what the fuck I would have made it or why I feel the need to make different passwords for different things as if I have a functional memory or something.

The other possibility is that the stupid bitch whore that I hate boss deleted my account. Which is entirely likely being that her behaviour is completely unpredictable. I decided to come home for the holidays to work assuming that would mean losing my uni job and concluding that it was still the best option. When I first applied for the job way back around Easter I told boss-face in my interview that I was planning on going to Europe (OHMYGOD I WENT TO EUROPE AND DIDN'T EVEN BLOG ABOUT IT! WTF IS WRONG WITH ME?!?!) in the July break as it seemed like the reasonable thing to do. I got the job anyway, and later when I told her the dates I'd be away she snarked at me something chronic. By this stage lots of little things had convinced me I didn't like her very much anyway so I just shrugged it off because fuck you bitch, I'm going to Europe. Post Europe shifts were ridiculously irregular and by October I was barely getting any shifts. My boss at home wanted me back for the holidays, and when Mum rung to tell me he'd been bugging her to get me to come back I hadn't had any shifts for two weeks. So knowing I'd get massive shifts (8-15 hour shifts rather than 2-6) and a lot more regularly I figured stuff it. As it was, boss-face text me before I'd gotten around to texting her to say this asking me when I was leaving for Europe (again? Seriously, I wish) and telling me that she'd heard off someone that I was planning on going. So I'm guessing that explains the lack of shifts, or something. I don't even know. Or care. But I wanted to get onto the staff site because I'm nosy and wanted to see who was still working and what the latest was. But my damn password doesn't work and I don't want to press the 'lost my password' thing, because it will probably notify her and I don't want her to think I'm coming back anytime soon because I intend on working here until mid Febuary. So I'm going to have to wait till then, and now I'm really irritated. FIRSTWORLDPROBLEMS.

Well that was a really odd entry, I feel it lacked any enduring sense of tone. Night.

The fault of the Sims.

After analysing my roster I've come to the discovery that I can make myself not home for the house inspection. This delights me a lot, especially since I have also discovered Josh will be home. So, much to his displeasure, I am shipping off to my hometown for most of a week and leaving him to the awkward situation that will surely ensue.

But that, disappointingly, means that I have quite a bit to do before I go home. For one, pretend that Elliot doesn't live here, as on paper he doesn't. I'm not sure what would happen if she discovered that he does, so rather than find out, I am going to make his bedroom look very much like a study.

This being my responsibility is my own fault. He intentioned to do it himself before he went home for the holidays but I persuaded him to instead spend hours trying to get the Sims to work on my computer because THE SIMS!!! The benefit of sleeping with living with a nerd is the ability to mention on a whim something that you feel like watching, playing or otherwise and then BAM he's built it from the internets. As it was though, it ended up taking way more time than we had to put it from his computer to mine because of *insert reason that I don't remember and didn't understand anyway here*. Piracy is a tricky business, apparently. So in the end, as it was insanely late when he did go to organise his room I told him I would do it and to go to bed because I didn't want him dying on the cartrip on the way home from being tired and having one of those microsleeps that Dr Karl is always talking about in his pyjamas. I don't want that on the conscience of myself and the Sims for the rest of our lives.

Man, I can not spell conscience. And I'm starting this new thing where I actually look the word up rather than just spelling it abysmally and then talking about how it's spelt abysmally. Which I guess isn't really working as I'm talking about it now anyway. Hmm.

Anyway I'm going to go be super sneaky and hide all the things that make his room look not like an office. Namely the clothes, manfume and bed that looks vaguely slept in. (I don't freaking know why it looks like that, I don't even remember the last time he slept there)

Adios

like, like, whatever. OHMYGOD. zz

So it turns out not having facebook is the way to motivate myself to update. The bizaare thing is that I don't really spend that much time collectively on facebook, but it's always open, and I'm always flicking back to it and remembering something I have to tell someone or wanting to post something that just happened as a status. So not being able to do that is getting on my nerves.

I was perusing over old entries, for old times sake, and my goodness. I didn't think I'd matured that much between year 12 and now. It has been over three years since I started writing this, but I recall thinking I was pretty damn mature back then. And for fucks sake I was doing my Higher School Certificate. Studying Advanced AND Extension English. I know I definitely casual down my writing for something like this as opposed to an English essay, but capitalisation and paragraphing would have been nice.

I couldn't handle it, so I edited a few posts. I limited it to punctuation, spelling, grammar and paragraphing. I felt if I removed all the ridiculous occurances of 'like' or reworded sentences so they didn't sound completely ridiculous I would be somehow damaging historical artefacts. I need to be able to look back when I'm forty and remember how hyperactively retarded I was. Or something. I also have a new very important rule, that I re-read and edit any post 24 hours after I write it. I feel this is probably for the best. To save 23 year old me coming back and hating myself again.

I think the thing I find the craziest, is that I know when I was 17 I was looking at things I'd written when I was 14 and hating my past self. I don't think I was ever an age where I thought 'hey I'm not very mature right now, these things I am saying/writing sound dumb' and yet I always look back on myself and detest those things. Which make me paranoid because I'm completely secure in myself now, but the evidence seems to point to the fact that I'm actually a ridiculous person I just haven't realised it yet.

In the end, I think disciplining this writing is probably the best for my sanity.

Wow, I sure wish I had something interesting to write about...

Life at the White House

So I managed to lock myself out of facebook. I changed my password, as I do every few months, after I get paranoid that too many people know my password and worry about the things I say in chat messages. Of course I then blab my password in general conversation and the cycle continues.

When I went to log back in the new password didn't work. Neither did the old password. I have no idea what I managed to do, because it makes you enter the new password twice, but I managed to try and work it out enough times that my account got locked for twenty four hours. Which is pretty awful on a day that I don't have uni, work, and Elliot left with his computer- ie my access to the Sims.

Oh, he lives here now. And Cody only kinda lives here. Cody, and his friend Josh. Or Herro, which is way easier because there is already one Josh in our house, fondly referred to as the White House by its residents and the troops of obscure and wide-ranging characters that come and go from its confines from time to time. Cody and Herro got a gig on a cotton farm. Driving tractors apparently, although I like to muse that they are off pickin' cotton or lament about the the old cotton fields in general, because I think it sounds way cooler, or atleast, southern. This means that they come and go, usually gone for a few weeks and then spontaneously in the house for a few days.

With them come, Lucy, Lucy's friend Alice who has this thing going on with Herro and any number of folk wandering into the kitchen munching on whatever we happen to have in the cupboard, traipsing from the front door to the garage with a simple nod of the head as they walk past the rest of us most likely doing something ridiculous awesome like playing risk. Only to return hours after we'd assumed no one one was home from the haze of the garage, cheerily say 'bye' as though we have any clue who they are, and return, in the form of somebody else in the morn.

The menagerie of drugs, people, people sleeping on the loungeroom floor and so on bothers Josh a touch. I tend to shrug it off, in return for having a few extra housemates for a few days and ignoring the ridiculous amounts of people coming in and out of the house (and not questioning what some of them are actually here for) we get Codys rent and share of the bills paid in full despite the fact that he quite often isn't here, the payments usually aren't on time, but they do come through. Not to mention, when they are home, free weed. Perhaps there is some deep psychology to it as well, a highly dysfunctional home environment is all I know.

I don't mean to paint the rest of us as motivated down-to-earth studious angels either. In fact, who am I fucking kidding, I live in a uni-style party house that is trashed most nights of the week. All my friends fuck each other and are drinking themselves out of livers three nights a week. Often in my loungeroom.

But, life at the White House is pretty boring tonight. Cody and Herro are out west. All the college kids and most of the uni town kids including Elliot have gone home. Josh is at a meeting. And I'm trying to get the Gruen Transfer to load while I procrastinate cleaning the ridiculous mess of a kitchen.

That being said, life at the White House is going to be worse next week when the incompetant real estate agent comes over for the house inspection. There is not even words to describe the cleaning we need to do. And how annoyed I am that I'm the only one that will be home to make awkward small talk with her.

And this, this is why I detest the holidays. I'm off to watch the simpsons clean the house.

ixnay on the abybay

Man, all that crazy talk gets hectic. Onto something a bit more lighthearted for today.

So I slept with Elliot. We hooked up a few times, and then ended up sleeping together. It was, ...eventful. Or, uneventful, perhaps would better describe. I don't know that I should have been expecting anything spectacular from a guy who started talking about a boy he once had feelings for directly after the first time we kissed. I was like, damn, mood kill there.

Turns out though, he's only a 2 on the kinsey scale. So, that's good. I think. I'm about as confused as to whether this reassures me as I would say he was about his sexuality if it wasn't for our new-age approach to gender loving. Ironic thing is, I can be quite a bit bisexual myself. So I'm a massive hipocrit in even remotely caring that he's a big ol' 2. Or not a hipocrit, being that I did end up sleeping with him, post gay feelings revelation. I will actually post expanding on all this gen-bi stuff later, but for now, this wasn't even remotely where I was headed with this.

But yes, the sex. So considering that I wasn't certain this guy was actually into chicks, there could have been any number of things go wrong. What I wasn't expecting, was premature ejaculation. We've all seen the billboards, we've all heard the radio ads. It isn't fun. But I guess, at the very least, it cleared things up a little on the attracted to girls front. I think. I'm still really confused.

Here is what bugs me though. And yes, this was what the post was actually meant to be about. I do not like condoms. Before you shoot me down, I also do not like STI's. And honestly, if you offer me a plate of a latex or a plate of chlamydia at the buffet, you know which one I'm going to take. So if I'm not one hundred percent (well, maybe like 87 percent, you can never ever be certain) convinced a guy is clean, I'm going to don the love glove. But I honestly believe the feeling is atleast three times better without them. And the thing is, for the most part, if I'm not certain that a guy is clean, I don't really want to jump into bed with him anyway. Condom or no condom. And, naturally, I'm on birth control pill, being a 20 year old university student who is not currently planning a family.

So, ages prior to the sex, a discussion about STI's came up completely seperately to any sex having, and we both talked about how we'd been checked even though we were careful and bla bla bla. Kinda tidbit of information that gets stored in the brain for later use. This, coupled with being on the pill, meant I didn't suggest any use of a condom. But, neither did he, and promptly seeded up my lady parts. Very promptly. Very very promptly. Not the point. If he had asked, I would have simply said I'm on the pill, a discussion would have happened ending in no condoms. Same, result, but it still bugs me. Here is a guy who has no idea what (if any) birth control a girl who he is not in a committed relationship with is using. And is willing to just throw a load in nonchalantly. Which irked me a little too, because I like to be on the cautious side and ask that the gentleman kindly direct his ejaculation as far from my ovaries as possible. Of course, due to the timing of the whole incident, the opportunity had not arose.

It got me thinking more about the whole thing, and I realised, it's not the first time I've encountered an unconcerned attitude to reproduction. And the odd thing is that it's usually the boyfriends that actually show any commitment to the whole prevention is better than a cure movement. Boys that are less committed, don't give a second thought. How is there not a bigger concern out there? I mean, seriously boys, smarten up, or you're going to be in a less than pleasent situation. There are a lot of girls out there who think getting pregnant would be just grouse. And even more that wouldn't be as pro-abortion in a real life situation as you might assume.

Why Jill is cahrayzee. (And Cody is an Arse)

Part Three of the Crazy Chronicles.

So, back track a little to the break up. Of course, despite the insistances of Cody, him and Lucy had developed into more than just friends. And they kissed, which we all fully expected. What we expected to happen next, was Cody would feel bad, call Jill, apologise profusely, cry a lot, and all would eventually go back to normal. How wrong we were, how very wrong.

It is completely beyond me, how he managed to be in an 18 month relationship with a girl (crazy or otherwise) and then in a heartbeat, break up with her, without even seeing her, and start fucking another girl. Not even just that, but start spending almost all his time with her. It was beyond callous, and beyond comprehension. On top of this, Josh and I have absolutely no idea what is going on. When Cody will be home (if ever) or what his plans are with anything. Completely ready to kill him.

Between Thursday and Tuesday, we saw him for maybe 5 hours. Then the fun part starts. I hop on facebook, Jill starts with the standard 'hope we can still be friends' yes, of course we can. Fine. Next time I go on facebook. Talking to me. And again. And again. Until I eventually turn facebook chat off. Because of course, it's all "how is Cody??" "Is he sad too?" "I'm so sad" "I love him so much". Now I feel for the girl I do. And I whinge and carry on about my own break up. But for the most part I do it in my head, or on here. Or to Jack. Who cops all my crazy so no one else has to. <3. Not to random housemates of my ex, and not every freaking time they try to go online and do anything.

And then it's the phone calls. She's calling the house looking for Cody. And there is something hugely awkward about the conversation you have with your housemates barely ex about where he is when he's fucking some other girl that you're not sure if the ex knows about or not. And of course, she doesn't just call once. If we answer, she'll give it an hour and call back. If we don't, she'll just keep calling. Eventually, Josh took the phone off the hook. And I had to be restrained from tearing Cody apart limb for limb when he did decide he'd come home.

Sympathy for the crazy turned into fuck the crazy eventually though. Tiresome as it might have been, I felt for the girl, and I don't think Cody had done a really thorough job of ending things. During one of our facebook conversations, I gave her some advice about giving him space, explained how Adam had really needed his space and not giving it to him just made things worse, and boys deal with breaks ups differently and bla bla freaking bla. At the end of the conversation, she expressly asks me not to tell Cody we've been talking (UM, WHAT?).

A day or two later, I come back from doing something or other with Adam, and Josh asks me how things between the two of us have been. Uh, fine, why? Josh thought as much, just double checking. Then informed me that Jill had told Cody quote He should be really worried about me because Adam and I had a friendship break up unquote. Really, I'm not sure what the point was, or what was possibly being achieved. But as Adam and I are just fine friends, and that was distinctly not at all what I told her, and after she instructed me not to repeat things to Cody, did so herself. Well, seems like cause enough to ignore the constant facebook messaging to me.

I think I'm just going to immerse myself in boys for awhile. If I ever speak to Cody again, he might even be invited.