The Secret Life of Me

gah!
11/2/03...Sorry people [if there are actually any people out there still bothering to check this never-updated page], I know I've been very slack and I can't actually remedy that at the moment, but I do have a funny little piece for you to enjoy called "The Donkey".

"One day a farmer's donkey fell down into a well. The animal cried piteously for hours as the farmer tried to figure out what to do. Finally he decided the animal was old, and the well needed to be covered up anyway, it just wasn't worth it to retrieve the donkey. He invited all his neighbours to come over and help him. They each grabbed a shovel and began to shovel dirt into the well. At first, the donkey realized what was happening and cried horribly. Then, to everyone's amazement, he quieted down. A few shovel loads later, the farmer looked down the well, and was astonished at what he saw. As every shovel of dirt hit his back, the donkey did something amazing. He would shake it off and take a step up. As the farmer's neighbours continued to shovel dirt on top of the animal, he would shake it off and take a step up. Pretty soon, everyone was amazed, as the donkey stepped up over the edge of the well and trotted off.

The Moral: Life is going to shovel dirt on you, all kinds of dirt. The trick to getting out of it is to shake it off and take a step up. We can get out of the deepest wells just by not stopping, never giving up! Shake it off and take a step up!

OK, that's enough of the B.S. ... Later the donkey came back, caught the farmer out in the field and kicked the crap out of him. Then he went over to each of his neighbours’ farms and kicked the crap out of them, too, for helping.

The REAL Moral: If you don't do a good job of covering your ass, it always comes back to get you."

Hope you are all well, and I hope that a completely blank white screen at snaphappy.pitas.com does not mean the end of one of the greatest webdiaries of all time. Crossing, come back!

Oh my god, she's back agai-ain...[cue backstreet boys music, ugh, but appropriate!]
30/1/03…Ok, so I know I’ve been terribly horribly unjustifiably unforgiveably slack with this web diary of late. Ok, more than *of late*. Having been banned from the computer at my great aunty + uncle’s place [combine general old people’s fear of new technology costing lots of money with a, shall we say, *net aware* great niece, who doesn’t use a computer more than most teenagers, and there is a stressful situation] I suppressed the urges to write a webdiary entry, until by the end of the trip I’d sort of forgotten that I even did this, or even knew how to do it. I tried to get back into it, but somehow there was always an excuse – oh, its too hot; oh, the pool looks nice and cool; oh, I’m going out in 10 minutes and I’m so not ready; oh, I’m back from being out and I could probably write a good entry now but my feet are killing and I have to lie down; zzzzz; oh, now that I’m awake I’ll write that entry… what was I going to write about again?

But anyway, that changes from now. I’m certainly not promising it’s going to be good reading, but I’m going to get back into it with the “quantity, not quality” approach, and work up from there.

In a way this whole webdiary thing was so much easier to do during the HSC, because there was always something odd/annoying/shitty to talk/complain/bitch about. Now that there’s this whole world just out there, I’m finding it much more difficult to define what I think about stuff to write about, because there’s too much material to consider.

Tonight, although it was a Thursday night, I did not go to North Sydney. Shock. I know. [Although I did have a very enjoyable night watching 3 straight hours of tv on the same channel – Scrubs would have to be my favourite] I just didn’t feel like socialising. Shock. I know. This, after proclaiming last week, “North Sydney is just the BEST place on a Thursday – it is soooo much better than the city, I am NEVER not coming to North Sydney on a Thursday night!” And I still stand by everything I said, although obviously not the part declaring that I would be there EVERY Thursday. My lack of desire for socialising tonight could be partially based on my experience of last night. Last night I stayed over at a friend’s place and another of her friends came over [who I really like but don’t know all that well] and we all just sat around talking about life, the universe and everything, and I mean everything. Guys and relationships and dreams and ambitions and religion and spirituality [and the difference between them] and Iraq and karaoke bars. And it was just great. [I really pity the neighbours because we were outside for the majority of this loud loud talking (except when we went inside at 4am to heat up the frozen pizzas we’d just bought at the 24 Coles at Lindfield), right up until the cockatoos started making a heap of noise and the sun was well and truly up.] For about 7 hours there was just non-stop throwing around of ideas and stories [getting a word in edgewise was tricky for everyone, somehow we all just had so much to say!], and it’s times like that that you really get to know what’s inside people, and what’s inside you, because it forces you to think of what you want in your life and what you believe and trust in.

Sorry if that sounded a little cornier than I intended, but unfortunately the language used to describe these sorts of realisations is inherently corny-therapist-sounding stuff because I guess they invented it.

So anyway, the lack of sleep kind of exhausted me, as did this incredibly hot day and I just found myself not wanting to go out – you really need energy to dance [well, obviously] and socialise, and it’s always hardest to socialise with people you don’t see that often and that you don’t see for that long. And this is a bit ironic because it’s exactly those people that you WANT to see at North Sydney, because you don’t get a chance to see them that often, but by the same token, when you DO see them there, you don’t really get a chance to talk TALK with people, because it’s more just the *catching up* time. And I do love catching up with people, I do, but I need energy for it because it’s so much harder explaining random new stuff when people don’t have the background knowledge.

So to everyone who I didn’t see and didn’t talk to tonight – I hope you’re all still alive and having fun before uni starts!

xox

ps – Schmamy – I am sooo sorry for waking you up with all those random sms’ the other night – completely lost track of the fact that if I’m awake you probably aren’t! [but if I were you, I’d turn your phone off when you go to bed, because I’ll probably do it again because when I’m on the internet and icq is there and I know I can send you instant messages that you will definitely get and I don’t have to think about when you’ll read your email or how long air mail takes, I just can’t resist sending you like 50 of them to let you know we’re all alive. So yea, but I’ll try to resist!] Sorry!!

Not a creature was stirring...
24/12/02...From across the oceans, Merry Christmas to all and to all a goodnight!

I hope the jolly fat man in the red suit has been good to you all. He’s yet to visit Storrington yet, and in fact I very much doubt that he’ll be around at all - my parents’ suitcases are notably present-less - it was a pre-discussed thing, that it was ridiculous to lug presents over here and then lug them back - plus this trip is pretty much a present in itself, and a bloody good present too.

I’ve been having a bloody brilliant time thus far - its not actually that cold [a mere 10 degrees Celsius, which is really not that cold especially since all the houses have smashing central heating and since everyone is always rugged up and prepared for much colder temperatures. So far we’ve been catching up with friends over here, who’ve been taking us out and generally showing us a good time - we went to an 18th the other night which turned out to be a rather fun night - lots of dancing and drinking and general merriment. Plus, it was my first experience of seeing a male stripper, so that was amusing [apparently it’s all the rage here to have a whole lot of friends put in about £3 each and get someone a stripper for their 18th]. Anthony, one of my good friends over here, is quite a drinker and I unfortunately allowed him to convince me to take part in his pre-going-out round of disgusting shots. I don’t know if any of you regularly drink whisky or brandy or sherry or port - I for one had never had any of said spirits, sticking to the more traditional vodka and bacardi and other more *girly* drinks. In any case, I would not recommend being introduced to these liquors in a game of consecutive shots. I piked after one round - the boys went for another, ugh, it makes me sick just thinking about it.

Having risen rather late this morning after a really lovely evening around at the Gould’s place [Anthony’s fam] I ventured out in the cold with mum + Adrian [our friend who’s a pilot with Britannia Airways + who takes us flying in his light aircraft] down to the local shopping centre in Worthing. When we got there, it transpired that one of the things mum needed to get was a present for me [joy of joys! heh] so I was ditched in a nearby café, which suited me absolutely fine because I had been feeling significantly caffeine-deprived. Anyway, so having scored a £10 note from mother, I marched straight up to the cashier and, having glanced at the menu, ordered a grande skim mocha with whipped cream to have there, thank-you. Brilliant. While I was standing there waiting for it, a guy came up behind me, stared at the menu dimly, then, when asked for his order by the barista, he replied, “uh, I’ll have 2 coffees thanks”. Of course, the barista replied with a barrage of questions: “What sort of coffees? Which sizes? Have here or takeaway?”, to which the flabbergasted Englishman replied “uh, just 2 coffees”. This little example typifies the English coffee habits - unless you’re in a main shopping district such as the township of Worthing, don’t even think about getting a cappuccino.

Tomorrow’s Christmas promises to be a great day - very strictly regimented, however. It’s like the German’s Schlieffen Plan - if one step is one minute late the whole day will crash and burn. Present opening at certain times, turkey does this then turkey does that, then potatoes then this and that then lunch then drinks etc etc. Hopefully all will go to plan.

Must go now [am getting in trouble for amount of internet usage - which is really not that much, but since my great aunt and uncle are used to using it about once a week, they think I’m going to burn out their computer] so I hope you’ve all enjoyed Christmas and had a jolly good time!

xox

Brrrrr...
21/12/02...So here I am on the other side of the world, unable to sleep because no-one woke me up from my nap in the afternoon, so now I've slept for 12 hours and I'm wide awake and everyone is asleep - what else to do but write a diary entry! Well, ideally I could also be talking to people in Australia, since I'd imagine that since it's dark here it's probably a reasonable time over there, but then again it gets dark here bloody early in the afternoon and stays dark for ages, so maybe the darkness is not really an indication of anything. But I guess people sleeping is an indication of the time, so anyway, blah, I'm guessing you're all awake enjoying sunshine and warmth, neither of which I expect to see for 3 weeks if yesterday was any indication. ANYway my point back there was going to be that I'd planned to be chatting to you people right now - I downloaded Messenger and went into Setup to [suprisingly] set it up, but unfortunately it seems that there's not enough space on this computer for it at the moment, and I don't think my great aunt and uncle would appreciate me just randomly deleting their files while they sleep, ignorant of all my activities.

Plane seats have got to be the most uncomfortable thing to attempt to sleep in. When I'm tired, I can fall asleep in most places - in the car, on the lounge, on a desk in Geography [actually, you don't even need to be tired for that - as long as one of the insanely boring Geography videos is playing you'll be asleep before you know it], but plane seats are impossible to sleep in. Therefore, if you know you're not going to be able to sleep, I would highly recommend flying Malaysia Airlines, because they have an insane amount of things you can do while you're wide awake. You've got your own little screen in front of you, on which you can watch movies on 6 different channels, TV on about 10 channels, or you can use the control pad beside you to play about 40 different PC or Super Nintendo games. This I loved. It was like a complete blast from the past, and I embraced the challenge of starting Super Mario World from the very beginning, finding secret levels and gateways to other worlds like a true champion. That is, until Jason gave me dodgy advice about saving, causing me to lose all progress and get generally pissed off at him and at myself for believing him. But you can't stay mad at Super Mario World, and after a while Yoshi and I were back again, Team Invincible quashing all opponents. Hurrah!

On a photographic note, my great aunt has just bought a digital camera, which she is giving me full use of, so expect to see some visual evidence of England here soon. [I'm sure you'll like that, SnapHappy].

Storrington is a very sleepy little town [especially right now when everyone except me is actually asleep. This is my mother's fault - in an attempt to combat jet lag, I decided to have a 2 hour nap yesterday at 2pm, and I asked mum to wake me up in 2 hours as I do not have my trusty mobile-cum-alarm-clock with me (yes that's right people - no mobile - I'm already feeling withdrawal - my thumb is twitching with the desire to sms everybody but there's not a mobile in sight). Anyway, mother clearly neglected her duties, as I discovered when I woke up at what I estimate to be 4:30am the next morning and found that I'd been sleeping all that time. So now my system will be screwed for another day - hurrah].

Ooh, I just heard someone get up! I wonder if they'll care that I just logged on to the net...

Anyway, yes, sleepy little town. Activities here include walking in the woods, eating/drinking tea and toast in the conservatory, watching rugby and soccer and cricket on Sky TV and drinking lots of alcohol, both at home and down at the pub. Hopefully tonight I shall be experiencing my first legal UK pub experience - Antony [hillariously funny guy from around the corner - part of why he's hillarious is that he's just so British - he uses words like "smashing" and "brilliant" all the time - its brilliant!] and co are going to the pub tonight and he said I was welcome - hurrah! Pub time! That will either follow or precede a quality dinner of roast beef and Yorkshire puddings, and anyone who knows of my love/obsession with Yorkshire puddings will know that I am in heaven at the mere thought of such a meal.

Unfortunately there is not a club in sight here, so I will have to release my dancing energy by myself with my headphones on listening to the tape of *brilliant* music that I made in Australia. Unfortunately I was unable to capture my current favourite song - Dirrty, Christina Aguliera [it really does have 2 r's] - on tape - an absolute tragedy [Agent - I don't suppose you feel like taping it and bringing it over with you? Hehe].

Well that's about it for now - stay tuned for more exciting updates from Storrington!

xox

A Schoolies Tribute...
9/12/02...So its 1:15am and, having just wormed my way through yet another tragic but endearingly evocative novel [The Lovely Bones, Alice Sebold – “painfully funny, bracingly tough, terribly sad, it is a feat of imagination and a tribute to the healing power of grief” – some random author quoted on the back of the bock – Secret Susie rates it out of – worth the read but make sure you have a box of Kleenex with you], I’m now waiting until 1:30am when I can hit my body with the drug it is fast becoming addicted to – Panadol Sinus. A week in bed and a couple of packets of the aforementioned Panadol variety, however, have done little to improve my pathetic physical condition, referred to by my parents as the “Post Schoolies Meltdown”. I just call it a bloody annoying head cold thingy.

In any case, that is the excuse I’m claiming for not having written in here since Schoolies, and now that I’ve actually sat down [or rather sat up, since I was previously lying down reading] to write about all that has happened since I last wrote, I’m feeling quite daunted. There is too much to say and yet there is nothing to say. Schoolies was fantastic, but the whole week is just one *blurred* memory, and I can’t separate the days and events from each other in my mind [and that has nothing to do with alcohol, especially since there was relatively little consumed, with the exception of the grand last night that was, and probably will be for some time, the best nite out ever]. It’s mainly because all the days were so similar – variations on a theme of sun and water in the day; music and dancing and drinking in the evening; staggering home at some point, sometimes in the night, mostly in the day [sunlight really just creeps up on you in Queensland with the lack of daylight saving time – the sun rises waaay too early].

So what else is to be said? As expected, there were minor, shall we say, *tiffs* within the group – no-one ever expected that a week of living together was going to be all harmonious roses and lollipops. These usually revolved around food, and the situation was exacerbated with all of the food being in one of the two apartments, as this was deemed to be a more suitable arrangement – everything in one place for cooking and socialising purposes. However. Little disagreements popped up – some people felt that people were treating the food apartment as though it was the duty of those in the apartment to be cleaners as well, and hot debates ensued about whose toast plate had been left unwashed. [Welly’s approach to this was interesting – she just avoided using crockery wherever possible to avoid a possible situation of putting it down somewhere, forgetting it and being persecuted later – Welly was often seen walking around the apartment eating toast with no plate, which perhaps was not a great solution since it just meant there were crumbs on the floor, but, ah.]

Most amusing was the saga revolving around *the glass of orange juice*. This situation was complex, because not only had someone left an item of used glassware unwashed, but they had also wasted an entire glass of orange juice by pouring it out and then just leaving it on the bench. Even more intriguing was that no-one would admit to pouring the juice. It became one of the unsolved mysteries of Surfer’s 2002, although we in room 208 [level 2, room 8 aka the food room] passed a hilarious afternoon re-enacting possible juice-pouring-crime scenes in the manner of JFK’s assassination, or, to be possibly more correct, in the manner of the Seinfeld parody of JFK’s assassination where Kramer and George re-enact the spitting scene where Kramer was hit by what Jerry describes as “one magic loogy”.

Plus, people were accused of eating more than their share of the food, and an amusing scene developed one afternoon in a particularly amusing way. The Surfer’s Drinkbottles had just partaken in a *food pow-wow*, where concerned parties had brought up issues they felt needed to be discussed, such as a feeling that room 208 was eating more food because it was in their room. Fliv had not been present for the pow-wow but arrived shortly after, just as I was in the bathroom preparing to shower and just as talk in the living room was moving on to the possibility of eating some of the fruit we’d purchased earlier in the week, namely, a certain half of a pineapple. When I heard the word *pineapple* mentioned, I knew trouble was a-brewin because I was well aware that on some earlier day, the pineapple had already been cut. I knew this, because I had had a piece myself, and when I thought about it, the only people I remembered eating it with me were fellow room 208-ers. When I continued to think about it, I remembered that we had put the pineapple back in the fridge, that Fliv had mentioned that the pineapple had, indeed, been cracked into and, thus, that anyone who wanted it could eat it. However. I also remembered that the pineapple had been removed from the fridge a second time by us, and after that session, I had no recollection of anything being put back in the fridge. Plus, it was clear that no-one had heard, or was admitting to hearing, Fliv’s declaration of the opening of the pineapple, because comments were starting to be made to the tune of “what do you mean you opened the pineapple? what do you mean the pineapple’s all gone? I didn’t get any of the pineapple” and so on and so forth. I decided to get in the shower and let Fliv handle that one.

Anyway, the pineapple incident sparked one of the great quotes of Schoolies 2002, which has since been applied to many and varied situations: “The pineapple was open and being eaten and you didn’t tell me until NOW???”

The pineapple incident also sparked further fear in room 208-ers about opening anything, and thus, the watermelon remained in the fridge unscathed until we were cleaning out the fridge on the last day and decided that what the hell, we’d just cut it up or it was going in the bin. And as we were never going to eat a whole watermelon in one sitting, half of it did go in the bin anyway. Ah, one of the tragedies of Schoolies.

Of course, none of these minor little events, blown out of proportion on this page for the sheer purpose of your comic enjoyment, really marred the week in any way at all – Schoolies 2002 was an absolute blast and I’d do it all again in a second.

I must state here, though, that I really agree with Shmucy who said that one of the weirdest things about Schoolies was seeing some of our guy friends who you might normally see every, say, month or 2, but suddenly we were in a world where we would leave these people at the end of the night with the phrase: “we’ll probably see you tomorrow” and perhaps even “gimme a call/sms and we’ll meet at the beach yeah?”. Plus, there was none of the parental rubbish about curfews – we went out whenever and came home whenever. And if we wanted to change our shoes or clothes in between beachin and clubbin we could – hell, our place was a 5 minute walk from everywhere. And Maccas was open 24 7. I must say, they do a bloody roaring trade – at 3:30am one weeknight, they had about 10 registers operating and the queues were still 10 deep. Maccas breakfast on the beach was one of the beautiful things too – wandering out of The Drink at closing time to find, surprisingly, that it was daylight, thinking “gee, its daylight”, wandering to the beach thinking “mmm Maccas”, eating Maccas on the soft white Surfer’s sand while the waves roll around in the *active beach zone* [dammit, you can never escape geography] – a beautiful end to a fun-filled nite of dancing and drinking.

Just one more thing before I dose up and doze off, well 3 really – O’Malley’s $3 shots are fantastic [when I get my film developed, I’m going to scan the photo of our tower of coloured shot glasses in here – amazing ], The Drink is the best niteclub ever, and there is no better song to dance to at The Drink, or anywhere else for that matter, than Christina Aguilera’s Dirty.

*snif snif* *cough cough* look after yourselves, people!

xox

Warning, warning, monster truck madness mindless mumbling ahead...
19/11/02...WARNING: This is, indeed, a monster truck madness entry. Do not begin reading unless you have a couple of hours to spare, unless you think you’ll be able to tear yourself away. Ha, as though anyone could!

The last few days have been reminiscent of a whirlwind. Having been largely ignorant of the outside world, a world where people exist and do things other than study, for roughly 7 weeks I have suddenly been catapulted back into this realm and have seen virtually everyone I’ve ever known in the space of 3 days, or rather, 3 nights. I feel like a druggie, whose drug is partying and socialising, who’s been clean for weeks and weeks but suddenly lost the motivation for abstinence and made a sudden jump back onto the party train, and moving from a stationary position to a high velocity in such a short space of time is bound to have negative effects. In my case, the negative effects of excessive partying are evident in my dry and damaged over-straightened hair, huge dark circles under my eyes, blistered feet, disgusting cigarette-smell-infested clothes and general need to close my eyes and keep them closed for a large portion of each day.

Yet today, oddly enough, I am sitting back at the desk and chair in dad’s office that I inhabited during the whole of Stuvac as well as every HSC exam-less day. Today, it is bizarrely barren – as I last remembered it, it was littered with chemistry folders [the contents of which were mostly never read] and pracs [which, sadly, were never learned] and research assignments [agh, biopolymers]. Today, though, I am here on business of an altogether more pleasant nature – to *do coffee* with one of my brother’s friend’s dad’s [I do actually know him – not as weirdly distant a connection as you might think] who’s going to show me around a law firm and give me an idea of the everyday nature of the kind of career that I could, possibly, be getting myself into [ignoring, obviously, the staggering hurdle of the UAI/DRI cutoff].

In any event, it’s nice to be *back in the office*. Coming in here every day for 6 weeks [plus the holidays before the Trials, as well as the Trial period itself] started to make me feel like I actually worked here, and believe me, working here wouldn’t be half bad [except for the obvious “dad in the workplace” problem]. This small group of *Forensic Accountants*, as they call themselves, are actually the fun-est accountants I’ve ever met, and I’ve met a few in my time – they’ve entered a team in a corporate lunchtime volleyball comp [quarter finals today at KGV if anyone needs some entertainment], and they have their own bar fridge and chip supply for *Friday Night Drinks* [well, it started as *Friday Night Drinks* but I’ve noticed that this event has gradually become *Any-Night-After-Monday-Night Drinks*] just to name a couple of their accomplishments.

Anyway, but back to the partied out phenomenon, I’m thinking that this will definitely have to be remedied before Schoolies, because by the end of Schoolies we will ALL we partied out, but we can’t start out like that because a number of things will happen…

1) we will all be tired and therefore less inclined to do boring stuff that has to be done eg: organise food

2) being tired and being in close proximity with 8 other people for a week, we’ll start to get snappy with each other

3) a fun time will not be had by all

Therefore, I command everyone to rest up this week, recharge your living batteries, much like a vanadium redox cell or whatever that rechargeable one that I decided not to learn was, and psych up for Schoolies! [please note, I do not condone the leaving-out of the L in Schoolies. Nor, however, do I condemn those who choose to continue to refer to this holiday as *Schooies*, I just prefer the correct spelling.]

Is anyone else daunted at the thought of Christmas cards and Christmas presents? Department stores and shopping centres, as is their tradition, put up their Christmas decorations months ago to get everyone in the spirit of the season [or rather, in the *spending* spirit of the season] but until the actual day rolls around, my spirit of this season is usually panic. This is a typical Secret Susie Christmas leadup:

1 month till end of school: Plenty of time… 1 day till end of school: Oh crap oh crap oh crap – no cards done, no presents for anyone, crap crap crap, really should have thought of this before – gaaaah! Will just have to get presents for people in holidays and drop them around before Christmas, yes yes, will be fine, except no cards for non-present people –gaaaah! Um…….. no solution, oh well. *sigh* 20 days before Christmas: Plenty of time. Well, except that I’m working pretty much every day and have already organised things to do other than Christmas shopping on days off. But Plenty Of Time. 1 week before Christmas: Plenty of time, yes, yes, *attempts to convince self*, plenty of time… 1 day before Christmas: Oh crap oh crap oh crap – no cards, no presents, must spend today getting presents for family as they will not take lack of presents well, gaaaah! No time for friend presents – gaaaah! Um……… no solution, oh well. *sigh* Will just have to get really really REALLY good presents for everyone next year.

And here we are again. And once again I am extremely unorganised. Lack of time and lack of budget are looking to prove significantly difficult to overcome in search *best ever Christmas present for friends* to make up for years of present-forgetting. As a hater of present-buying [purely because I absolutely suck at it and can never decide on anything for anyone], this year has been extremely irritating, with so many present-buying occasions popping up all over the place. Most annoying are the people who, when asked what they want for said occasion, claim that they “don’t want anything” [an obvious lie – we are children of a consumer-driven society, we are material girls, no-one has EVERYTHING they want! Come on, does anyone reading this have everything they want? You may believe you have everything you NEED (although that will depend on whether you think things like a new bikini for Schoolies is a NEED or a WANT – my parents and I often disagree) but it is the nature of our society to continue to create new things to WANT.] or that they “don’t know what [they] want” [another obvious lie – everyday you notice that you could do with a new this or another that – you get dressed for an occasion and realise that you don’t have a bag that goes with a certain pair of shoes, or that you’ve run out of perfume, or that you simply have NOTHING to wear!].

And if this is all sounding very materialistic, I set out from the start with the yardstick that yes, we live in a society driven by our consumption of material goods. It’s all very well for someone to ask for “world peace and an end to global famine and disease”, but you can’t go to Chatswood and buy it and gift wrap it and present it to someone for their birthday, or Christmas. Although I must say that 2 friends from Ascham, Eonnelly and Jurner [see Sossing’s Beeks and Larroway (although there I must say that my first name does not actually start with B! This is not the first occasion that someone has listed my initials with the B instead of the R, v. amusing…)] did do something to that end with their joint 18th – instead of presents, they asked everyone to make a donation to a charity that Eonnelly’s cousins are working for in Afgahistan – Tearfund. The results were mixed – some people genuinely donated the amount they would have spent on a present, some decided that the good cause was worth even more, and some stingy bastards decided that, since no-one would know [except for the fact that they told people], they’d spare less than a ¼ of what they would have spent on a present. But overall, people rallied to the cause and I think Eonnelly and Jurner did raise a fair amount of money.

But when you’re part of a group as large as the DrinkBottles, there has to be an organised system. So we came to a good conclusion where everyone would put in a pre-designated amount towards a present for each person [except where they indicated that special circumstances necessitated their buying of an individual present, ie: best/close friendship] and then that fund would be used to buy a present or a few presents. Thus, in this system, everyone knows that a present WILL be bought for them, so it does have to be something you can buy and giftwrap and present, no there’s no point pansying around the issue, claiming you “don’t know” or you “don’t need anything”, and certainly no point trying the “you don’t have to get me anything”, because obviously, something is going to be got. Thus, it makes it so much easier and better if the person having a present bought for them gives some indication of what they might like; easier for the buyer in deciding what to get, and better for the present buyee who has a much greater chance of ending up with something they actually like and value. Being a lover of practicality and a hater of surprises, I of course took the practical unsurprising option of telling the DB’s that I would absolutely LOVE a hair straightener, and let me tell you, I DO love my hair straightener! [And, truth be told, I think the DB’s love it too – did any non-DB’s notice that almost our entire group had the same straightened hair for the Valedictory Dinner? Courtesy of the Müster, master hair straightening tool, and Secret Susie, the master hair straightener, and Shmalex’s and Welly’s houses, the locations of the master straightening.] [Mind you, I don’t know exactly how much my hair loves it… but, meh, what can you do? Well, I suppose I could stop straightening it but…. nah.]

I guess I can’t let the formal pass with only a vague mention of it as part of the recent “whirlwind” of stuff, so here goes. Personally, I thought it was a really great night. Our pres were absolutely lov-er-ly – beautiful view of the Harbour Bridge and the city as usual from Hobo’s luxurious apartment balcony accompanied with yummy pink or green champagne [pink – Grenadine, green – Midori, mmm] and scrumptious food. Well, I’m told it was scrumptious – personally I wasn’t eating anything for fear I would burst out of my dress before I even made it to the formal venue.

And then, theeeeeeeeeeeeeeee MAAAAAAAAAAAAAIN EVENT! Definitely the best formal ever. The food was delicious, the dance floor was a good size [even if it did get a little too hot – I guess at least it gave more meaning to Nelly’s It’s Getting Hot In Here – I think everyone really did want to “take off all [their] clothes”], the music was good [although here I have to add that the addition of “DJ Jane” to the night was not a move welcomed by most] and the night seemed to go for just the right amount of time. Unfortunately, the night did succeed in once again proving the “idiot” status of, sadly, possibly the majority of our grade who excelled themselves with their display of rude and inappropriate comments towards one excellent organiser. All I can say is: Fliv S – you did an amazing job, and some people just go through their whole lives being ungrateful so pay them no mind.

Then it was time to move on again, and we headed for Imax, where we met up briefly with our sister group, the OddSocks. Then it was off to try and get the juvies, with an assortment of punched but still date-valid licenses and *international student* id’s into somewhere, anywhere. Having failed at the jumpin Pontoon, and being turned away from Shellbourne because there were “too many of us”, we trekked across the city to CBD, where we all finally got in, sat down, and got drinks. However, the flashing lights of a promising dance floor across the road at Forbes [where I found out later that my Great Aunt used to work as a barmaid (possibly in pre-war times!) – random coincidence!] drew a few and then all of us. However, there was once again a difficultly with numbers, and so the numbers of us still in the city dwindelled, and after dancing the night away, we too decided to call it a night.

Well this is just too much, I am going to have to stop this monster truck madness and postpone some thoughts for another day. Cheerio! And stay out of the sun, people – tans may look good now but in 50 years time you won’t be loving your leathery skin! And with that [and the fact that I have now hit the 5th page in Word, so it’s definitely time to go] I take my leave! *collapses in a heap of exhaustion from post-HSC brain over-usage*

"...But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning..."
10/11/02...So we did it. We survived the HSC. Personally, I think that’d be a damn good idea for a bumper sticker that beats the hell out of “My kid is an honour student” and “My juvenile delinquent beat up your honours student”: “I survived the HSC”. And possibly one that could be added underneath that is: “and now I’m going to attempt to kill all of my remaining brain cells at Schoolies”.

I’m actually quite glad that there’s a bit of a time delay between finishing and going on the aforementioned Schoolies. Personally, rather than making me feel like celebrating, finishing my exams has made me feel like getting into my most comfy pyjamas, crawling into bed, and staying there for approximately an eternity, give or take a day. As we sat around at Hobo’s place last night, chillin and watching Ice Age [v. funny movie – certainly not just for kids] I realised that that was exactly what I wanted to be doing – just sitting around chillin with friends. I felt no urge to go and burn piles and piles of notes, no urge to drink alcohol until I passed out, no urge to dance or sing or scream or do anything that required any energy exertion at all. Hobo’s brother Matt passed through the TV room once saying, “You’ve all just finished the HSC – what are you doing here?! You should be out getting smashed!” [or something to that effect]. And I thought – yea, I guess that seems like the kinda thing one would do after completing such a hell of a year. But I just can’t drum up the energy.

Is everyone else feeling this dead? Or is everyone else secretly out partying, feeling energised and ready for celebration? I’m getting a similar vibe from Krossing’s page, so maybe everyone is united in this dead feeling.

I must say, I particularly enjoyed doing absolutely nothing yesterday. Having discovered the joys of Steven Fry’s other novels [if you liked The Stars’ Tennis Balls, you’ll LOVE The Liar and The Hippopotamus] I set myself up outside by the pool with a hat, sunglasses, sunscreen, towel, waterbottle and a book, and spent the day swimming then reading/sunbaking then swimming etc. Thoroughly enjoyable. Feeling a little energised by the nothingness, I decided to begin the purging of all HSC elements from my room and adjoining hallway, which had become the disposal area piled high with books and notes relating to subjects that I had already completed. This process had already begun on Friday, when I triumphantly ripped my pathetic attempts at “motivational signs” from the wall above my desk [which had become completely covered with quotes and numbers and endless lists of things I had to do], threw them all in the bin, and filled the void with my recently-picked-up Year 12 muck-up photo – it looks brilliant. Everyone just looks so happy and relaxed, and its so appropriate that we’re all still in school uniform but slightly different – a reminder that what we’re celebrating by our smiles was the end of something related to school, something that unified us. I think it sets the celebration tone quite nicely.

Similarly [yikes, that takes me back], today’s shopping was also enjoyable, although it was partly marred by a sneaking suspicion that I should be somewhere else doing something else. Every now and then it would attack, and the thought would rush through my head: “SH*T I haven’t studied Chemistry – what the hell am I doing out shopping!?!?!”, but then I realised that despite the fact that I didn’t study for it, I had already done that exam, and all other exams for that matter, and I tried to get back to enjoying the shopping. And it wasn’t that difficult, in fact, the whole expedition seemed almost too good to be true. Having dreaded the impending doom of shopping for a formal dress [the negative vibe of which had been built up by stories of friends spending multiple days finding nothing], in reality the process was significantly easier than expected. In my case it involved going to a shopping centre, walking into the first shop I saw, trying on a dress, deciding that it wasn’t that bad and that I certainly wasn’t going to find anything cheaper and that I really couldn’t be bothered trying on any more of them, and buying it. Just like that, the ordeal was over. *sigh of relief*

So, for many the HSC has finished and now the wait for results begins. When I forgot about the fact that these exams meant something, I started to enjoy the exams [who would have ever thought that possible?!], throwing in little comments which added nothing to the quality of my answer, but which I hoped might amuse the marker and give them something to laugh at during their marking period. Unfortunately this whole pretence will come to an end on December 19 and 20 – time to face the music – or is it? I have pondered the idea of just not looking at my marks, especially in my position of leaving for a 4-week trip o/s with my family on the day of the release of the UAI. 21 hours is a long time to sit on a plane pondering the meaning of a 2-digit number, especially when I know what sort of reaction to expect from my family. My brother showed his support the other week by asking me what my “suicide mark” was, ie: the mark that defined my right to live or not – any lower and I would [according to Jason] have to commit suicide. I told him to piss off, then made the mistake of asking him [in an attempt to show him how much of an idiot he was being] what HIS *suicide mark* was, to which he arrogantly [but not completely unjustifiably (which is even more depressing) replied] “well, anything less than 100 of course”. Hence my reluctance to get my results because of then being cooped up with just my fam and that little number for 4 weeks. Ha, 4 Weeks’ for 4 weeks. [pathetic – making jokes at own name now, filling void of other people not being here to make said jokes – proof that the HSC has made me crazy – worse than listening to Leanne Rimes, Krossing].

Oh, at this point I have to note that the “intellectual arrogance” due to ppl telling us we’re smart was Schamy’s original thesis – forgot to cite that one. [Geez, we’re all going to wind up in litigation against each other one of these days – I tell you if, as Krossing says, WW4 will be fought with webdiaries then WW5 will be (as is already happening around the world and on TV etc etc) fought with lawyers]. Ooh, and back on my entry on 29/10/02, if you were wondering why I was talking about Shmisa and then suddenly chucked in the codename “Captain”, it’s because I made a mistake and meant “Major”. Sorry to anyone who was confused =)

Well there it is, my first post-HSC entry [sorry – not exactly monster truck madness Shmisa, but hey, I tried], and I must say that writing it without a fear of impending doom was quite a new and thrilling sensation. With so many interesting events coming up in the near future, I’m sure there’ll be many more *exciting* entries, so stay tuned readers! And I’d like to echo Shmisa’s vote of thanks to all fellow web diarists – you made me laugh, you have reminded me that a world with people DID exist somewhere, you have given meaning to going on the internet and have generally helped keep me sane in this yukky time. But now that this time is over, don’t even THINK about stopping writing – I need sanity now more than ever, because a non-HSC student has no excuse to be insane!

I LOVE YOU ALL!!

Pinch and a punch for the 1st of the month!
1/11/02...Just a quick entry to score Shmisa's 10 points [I currently possess no mental or creative capacity of any shape/form to enable the creation of anything else]: "Did i never treat you right? Did i always start the fight?" - lyric from All Saints "Never Ever"

Also many thanks to said Shmisa for citation correction. [I am the "ever so secret-ive web diarist"?] I too must make a similar addition: yes, Agent was the iniator of the trend of using "o" rather than "0" in TV show times [eg: "8:oopm, SBS"], and my too-subtle comment on her bizarre yet intriguing use of "o" in this way was misinterpreted as plagarism of the "pop culture" of the webdiaries - apologies. [btw - that was sincere, but I can tell it could be ambigious - my brain is currently incapable of selecting the words I actually want to use, hence my refrain from entering a full entry at this time - we all know what happened last time I made a random ambigious entry!]

Hope you're all looking after yourselves! [and by that, I do not mean to be endorsing, nor necessarily condemning, Lean Cuisine meals in any way, shape or form].

PS - I meant to note this a while ago - Shmisa, we seriously must have some sort of random connection [there have been previous circumstances where this has appeared to be demonstrated] because just before your entry where you referred to Jewel's Foolish Games a while ago, that song had randomly entered my head and had remained there for at least 3 days! And also, Looking For Alibrandi is also my favourite book! Woah...

And the ruminations roll on...
29/10/02...Just for a change, I’ve become totally and utterly distracted from studying. Time for a webdiary entry, methinks. I’ve just been out + purchased my second coffee for the day, and having skulled that [2 shots, caramel + all] hopefully it’s just a matter of sitting back and waiting for the caffeine to whip me into a panicked, yet effective, studying frenzy. Of course, the more likely outcome will involve a jittery HSC student bouncing off the walls of a corporate office, dancing around doing split + stag leaps + practising dance steps she never ending up having to perform for West Side Story, but hey, I’m cool with that too.

Just to clear up an error in citation on Shmisa’s page – the Buttercup Diaries – I believe that it was actually I who posted the idea that the HSC was not actually a measure of intelligence. Agent, who was credited with the theory, had actually, as indicated on her page, cited this page as the source of such wisdom and insight, [haha]. *ahem* Oh, and on that horrible 3-letter-acronym topic, I must say that I think Krossing has indeed come up with the ultimate theory – the Distraction Resistance Index – which is, I think, an embodiment of all that everyone has suggested about the HSC – that it doesn’t measure intelligence but instead allows hardworking, yet unintelligent, “randoms” to succeed. [yes, I too admit to a degree of intellectual arrogance, OddSocks, which I know I do not have the right to have, but which is residual intellectual arrogance from a time long ago when I used to get better marks and when people used to tell me I was *smart*. How can you be *smart* in Year 6 – you’re tested on spelling and addition and the structure of ant nests?! Seriously though, I think this gives kids who do well in primary school a false sense of security, and I have managed to convince myself, using this false sense of security, that not studying for the HSC would not be a problem because I am *smart* and I would just somehow work out what I was doing in the exam. Unfortunately, I have been getting the feeling it doesn’t work like that at this stage…]

While I’m on the topic of the Buttercup Diaries, I must say that lately reading people’s webdiaries always freaks me out because I can’t work out whether the people griping [gripe-ing – spelling?] about other people are griping about me, which would be disturbing, or not. Reading Shmisa’s thoughts about “trend frends” made me think – “hang on – I talked to Shmisa in the library the other day – does that mean she thinks I’m just a “trend frend”??” and Agent also had the same thought pattern regarding a conversation she’d had with Captain earlier that day. So my point? I don’t know – perhaps we’re all just too self-involved to think that someone could be talking about anyone other than us [haha], but when you’re reading a webdiary, it’s almost as if the person is talking right at you [think Mona Lisa style – the eyes are on you wherever you look – same sort of principle here, perhaps?] so you can’t help but feel like it’s relating to you.

*Ah* there’s the caffeine now.

A minute, if I may, to point out the stupidity and consequential attempted cover-up of the Geography staff. [If you’re already bored, skip this rant] Supposedly, by putting the caveat “choose the BEST answer” at the top of a multiple choice section, the Geography staff feel free to just avoid putting in any correct answers. I’m not just talking about those “choose the statement that BEST describes this graph” or whatever, I’m talking about questions where there is obviously a right answer, like “what type of photograph is this?” and they don’t put the correct type of photograph as an option. This just means that instead of working out a question and writing an answer [since it isn’t there], it’s more a case of thinking: “now, how does the mind of a Geography teacher work?”, and bearing in mind that they obviously don’t consider the CORRECT answer to be the BEST answer, I don’t think those are minds that we necessarily want to be delving into.

Must now get back to proton donation and strength of acids before this coffee high wears off and I find myself slipping into a mind-numbing couple of hours of minesweeper [have been encouraged by recent record-breaking efforts – terrible – am now more motivated to play minesweeper than to study].

“If you can’t be good, be careful” – Penne, Life Support – SBS, Mondays, 9:oopm

Randomness philosophising at its peak
Apologies for not posting this sooner – I wrote this massive entry yesterday afternoon, but didn’t get a chance to post it till now, so please ignore now out-of-date comments…

21/10/02…I don’t think today’s exam is going to be a positive influence on my study for the next few days, because to me it just proved that English can be random and can give you things you never expected. I think Schmucy best summed up today’s exam: “in every section I was like, “um, not what I was expecting, but ok, yea”. 4 texts? a creative piece related to the texts? a feature article on change? oh blah – if that’s what they dealt us for the supposedly predictable change paper, then in my opinion, we’re really up sh!t creek without a paddle for the others, and personally, I don’t think anything I can do today or tomorrow can help me get that paddle.

And so here I am, procrastinating again. For the past 2 hours, I have sat at the window staring at the ppl on the city streets below. Occasionally one of them would look up and see me staring, I just kept staring right back – it’s fun making ppl think you’re a stalker/psychopath/freak of some variety. Then I did the rounds of email, webdiaries etc and was pleased to note a new entry on Krossing’s page – entertaining as always, and yes, I totally agree with the milk carton thing – which I was most excited about, because the stagnant state of webdiary world of late [to which I have contributed – apologies] has depressed me on 2 counts:

1. there hasn’t been any substitute reading for horrible horrible English notes 2. there hasn’t been anything to read about the ppl I like to get updates from – it makes me feel like I’ve talked to ppl, reading their webdiaries, and it’s a substitute for not seeing those ppl at school like we have every day for the past *however many* years, and 3. it makes me feel like everyone’s being freaky and doing heaps of freaky work when no-one’s busy procrastinating and writing webdiary entries

So, obviously I did a dance of joy and even let loose a “hurrah!” when I saw a new entry, and a quality entry at that – well done Krossing.

I must say, if today was good for nothing else [and nothing has yet proved that it was] there was at least the momentary socialising before and after the exam to lift one’s hopes. In the library, jokes and giggles were shared amongst the flurry of paper and last-minute notes, afterwards TV watching was discussed – almost like a normal day at school again, except that we had just sat our first HSC exam.

Another random recollection – during the whole exam, I had to keep reminding myself that I was doing the HSC and not just some random practise paper in Wysey’s class, where I could just not do it and say I did, and think about it later. Every question I came upon brought the same reaction from my brain: “oh, whatever”, with the result that I spent so much time randomly flicking through the paper thinking, “oh whatever” that I hardly got anything done.

In other random recollections – did anyone else have that part of Janet Jackson’s remake of Joni Mitchell’s song “Big Yellow Taxi” [aka you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone] – the part where some guy in the background says “Joni Mitchell never lies” – in their head for the whole exam? Schmucy already gave a positive response, so that’s 2 – I’d be interested if anyone else was listening to the same annoying motif on loop in their head.

Ooh I just got a thrill – I went to “save as” to save this document [I always type them in Word first because experience has shown me that if I make the effort to type an entry but stupidly just do it straight into pitas, the internet will conveniently get some problem which will cause me to lose the last ½ hour or so of my life] and I saw my “English Advanced” folder and I thought “ooh! ooh! ¼ down, an after Wednesday, I can delete that whole goddamn folder!!” – small thrills at this stage ppl, small thrills.

Anyway, my main point of writing this entry [as usual, I have become sidetracked, as I did today in my English paper, with the result that I left myself a whole 15 minutes for creative writing – not so smart] was to unleash my theory on UAI’s. Goolia Dressman’s sister, a student of Vames Goose Quagricultural Drool, worked extremely hard and, for her efforts, was rewarded with the not-so-bad UAI of 100. Anyway, after this experience, she purported that anyone who did as much work as she did could also achieve 100. Maybe, but that assumes that everyone has the same will and drive to work as she did.

See, what I’ve discovered this year is that the UAI is not a measure of intelligence or ability or whatever. There may be some element of those qualities in there, somewhere, but it’s pretty much distilled by the other factors measured by the UAI – commitment, dedication, motivation, and an ability to just put your bum on a chair and your head to the grindstone and work. And these are not capabilities that everyone has – I certainly don’t. I am one of these ppl that usually has good intentions that I fail to carry through. For example, I pride myself in making lists of things that I’m going to do and study plans and deadlines etc, but I don’t actually consider that I will have to do anything to achieve these aims, in fact, once I’ve made the list/deadline/study plan, I just assume that by writing the task on the list, it somehow completes itself.

Case Study #1 – Bec makes list entitled – “By the end of today I will have…”

- completed all Modern History notes

- planned 3 Indochina essays

- made table of historiography quotes

- completed 2 practise WW1 sections

- learnt Hoover facts

*Bec then thinks “right, glad that’s done” and goes and watches TV*

Pathetic, isn’t it? Much like this entry, which, I apologise, is turning into a hod-podge of randomness. So anyway, yes, my point. In the end, we’ll just all have to accept that we did as much study as we personally were built to physically / mentally / emotionally handle. Sure, we may look back and think, “Damn, I wasted all that time, who knows what those hours / days / months / weeks / years, better utilised, could have yielded?” [interesting fact – for the 1st time ever, the Swedish winter Olympic team, in some random year, didn’t win a single medal, but if each member of the team had improved their performance by 5% (assuming that a 5% improvement would have yielded a 5% higher score or 5% lower time) then they would have won gold in every single event. And the whole team looked back on their training and thought – “crap, there were times when we mucked around”. So I guess that’s kinda not good… anyway… they’re not us… *phew*]

The point is, you’ll never know, and the other point is that the reason you didn’t utilise them is because that’s who you are and not everyone can utilise every minute of the day. This HSC is not necessarily going to rank us in order of intelligence – there has already been evidence in internal assessments to suggest that it will not – but we have to remember that it’s not a rank of intelligence, it’s a rank of how we have dealt with the stresses that this freak-of-a-year has thrown at us. There’s certainly been a lot to deal with and some of us don’t deal with it that well. Some of us are effective workers and some of us aren’t. Some of us can sit down for 4 hours and do 4 hours of solid work, others have to sit there for 10 hours in the hope of scraping in 4 hours of actual work. Some of us have had better circumstances than others, some ppl’s situation has been out of their control. But in the end, we’ve all come to this point via some journey, and I would suggest that in this case, the journey has been more important than the end result will be. After all, everyone always says that you forget your UAI and you change Uni courses after 1st year because you realise you hate what you’re doing etc.

All I know is that I’ve *gasp* “changed”. I’ve realised that getting into a course or not does not determine the value of a person anymore than a number does, and that we all have gifts and mine is not effective studying nor a desire to study. Is it that I’ve lost my motivation? I don’t think so. It’s just that I know that if I decide that the rest of my life is going to be good or bad based on a number, and since there’s a good chance the number will come out on the wrong side of the scale, then the damage will not be worth it.

So I encourage you all to do the best YOU can do and then be happy with whatever that yields. That doesn’t mean do the best a work-a-holic could do [mind you, if you are one – best of luck to you – it’s seriously a gift], but rather just prepare yourself and look after yourself. And if that means taking an hour break to write a webdiary entry or taking a 3 hour break to chill out and enjoy the wonderment that is Monday nite TV, then by all means, do. We all know we’re worth more than a number, but I think sometimes it helps to be reminded.

peace out =)

ps – woah, that turned into one mama of an entry – sorry! I was really getting into the philosophising! [read: procrastination]

13/10/02...The intertextuality of all these webdiaries is starting to freak me out. I say starting because I've only recently become aware of the extent of this cross-referencing. Suddenly I see people who I didn't even know read this very non-worthy little page commenting on it here and there in their own pages. Maybe I should get one of those counters for this page, because I never thought anyone actually read this page [though it seemed that everyone under the sun managed to tune in for my now-much-discussed "emotional vent" entry, which all started from an offhand thought... funny how things can always take a turn for the worse] and it would be interesting to see the results. But as I am virtually computer-illiterate, the chances of me working out how to do that are slim to none.

In other news [hehe Agent] thanks to SnapHappy for solving my CNNNN crisis - they count the 2 N's in "NoN-stop" as worthy of 2 N's in the acronym.

In another other news, a big howdy to Max8 who was welcomed into the world last nite - I hope you enjoy this green and blue place more than Max7.

In another other news, yet another fruitless day has almost passed. I can't decide what my stance on studying + the HSC is at the moment, because it seems to change with...

a) the weather

b) the time of day

c) what's on TV

d) who's on MSN

What I do know is that every nite, total panic consumes me + I can't sleep, with the result that the next morning I am ridiculously tired and justify not working in the morning by this. Of course, that just sets me in a bludgin pattern for the rest of the afternoon so that, if I'm at home, I watch American Beauty for the 3048th time or jump on the net to read the latest releases on webdiaries/check email/chat to whoever else is bludging around on msn, or, if I'm at dad's work, just go out for a walk/coffee for a couple of hours. Of course then I have to watch TV at night, rationalising it by saying that although I did no work, I did sit at my desk for many an hour, thereby justifying a significant break, and then it's time for bed. At which point, I lie there, staring at the ceiling, painfully awake, and the whole cycle starts again. It's a cycle I've been on for about a week now, and I see no real hope for recovery. Looks like its time to fail English.

In another other news, my horrible horrible Indochina notes, which are finally finished, are 70 horrible pages long. I must be the absolute worst note-maker ever. Not only did they take ages to make, but I'll never be able to read them because it would take to long. Gah.

As I sat at my desk today reading Garfield comics, I couldn't help but wonder [how very Carrie Bradshaw ala Sex in the City of me]: when will I start to care about my horribly unprepared-for-HSC state? Right now, I'm betting on next Sunday nite.

Ooh and a note re: my last entry which may have given the wrong impression re: guy's criteria for judging "Most-Likely" competitions - I really have no idea - there are surely a plethora of factors that enter into the calculations and, not understanding such aspects of the male brain, I feel suitably unable to really comment, that was all I could think of, but it has been explained to me that my hypothesis has its flaws.

Y'all come back now, ya hear!

xox

Smiling happy non-HSC ppl holding hands...
11/10/02...Here I am on a Friday nite sitting in my Dad’s office, surrounded by endless empty workstations, while below me happy “Monday-to-Friday”ers celebrate the start of the weekend with upbeat music, a few drinks and a chat. I think one of the most depressing things about Stuvac is the way every single day is the same, every day its just one more day until the HSC, one more day to study [or procrastinate] – either way, its one more day you have to get through in pretty much the same manner as you’ve been doing for the last 2 weeks. I suppose it should be some consolation that as you get through each day, that’s one less day you ever have to spend thinking about the HSC, but it still sucks.

I have virtually nothing to add except my continued depressed view on the subject [which kinda makes sense, since my whole issue with this Stuvac thing is that I’m not doing anything but sit at my desk] [ooh - except for the random realisation that hit me the other day that I regularly drink coffee from 8 different cafes - heh - those coffee ppl will make an addict of me yet - oh wait, I already am one...damn...] [ooh - and that CNNNN has got to be one of the most hillarious shows I have seen in recent times - but I have one question: if it's C-N-N-N-N (which it is) which supposedly stands for "Chaser Non-Stop News Network", then is it just me or should there be another word to be represented by the 4th N? Or is that part of the joke? Agh. Anyway, they're funny. "Crean. Get on top. Crean ..." And as Jason never tires of telling me "They're all Old Sydneians!" (ie: all Grammar old boys) - um, *yay* I guess.] so I will attempt to be one of Amy’s “light-shedders” [although I do apologise, for as you know, I am not “6’3 and very cute and possibly wearing a black hat”]. [ugh, sorry for all those parentheses] [heh]

I just have to interrupt for a moment to give you an insight into how absolute insane I am right now. I was sitting here typing when all the lights on the floor went off [after 6pm or so, they operate on a timer so you have to keep going out and turning them on – making sure you take your security pass with you so you can get back in] so I picked up my wallet [with the security pass in it] and my fone [out of habit] and walked to the light switch out the front. Just after I’d got back through the door, Mum called, so I answered the fone and I was speaking to her as I walked back to Dad’s office. When I get to the office, I put my wallet down on the desk [I’m still on the fone to Mum] and then think: “sh!t where the hell is my fone – I must have left it sitting out by the lights or something sh!t sh!t.” So I say something to Mum along the lines of “ah geez, I think I left my fone out by the lights,” and she said: “aaah, Bec… think about this for a second…” and it took me more than a second. This is how fried my brain is. Anywaaaaaaaaaaay…

Back to the SEX issue [see – I can attempt to boost my ratings too!] – I think that it just comes down to comparison. While people may consider Amy to be “Drink-Bottle-Most-Likely”, that doesn’t necessarily say anything about Amy in her own right – only in comparison to other Drink Bottles, and let’s face it, we’re not the most sluttish of groups. Of course, if you want to consider why, of the Drink Bottles, one would be “Drink-Bottle-Most-Likely”, a few things would probably come into play. I’d hazard a guess that guys would consider the following criteria of each person in determining who would take out this prestigious honour…

1.) past known [or rumoured] activity in this field – what’s been done with who and what the situation was between those ppl

2.) how the person in question’s behaviour alters under the influence of alcohol

And I believe it is on the basis of those 2 simple facts that a guy’s brain subconsciously computes an average score for each person, ranks them, and then declares someone “Most-Likely” – Drink Bottle or otherwise.

Of course, I infer nothing about what said guys determine from these criteria exactly, merely that these 2 criteria are pretty much all the information guys can use to extract some sort of ranking system, because they generally know/understand precious little else about girls and how they work.

So there’s my light shedding attempt. I think now it’s time to go and sit at my other computer for a while and stare at the screen.

And a special note to _a_ [but anyone who would like to consider it a personal message to them – please do if this applies] – please don’t go and lie in a hole.

Happy weekend, all.

Feeling reflective, rather like a shiny surface...oh boy, I need to get out more...
10/10/02...Just a few reflections...

Broken things can always be mended. Sometimes it takes time, and there might be a crack that you’ll always be able to see – but it adds character and a history and meaning that wasn’t there when you picked it up off the shelf at the store.

Apologising isn’t that hard. Well, maybe it is, but if it’s hard, its usually worth it.

And for that matter, never underestimate the power of an apology. It’s like the rudder of a boat – by itself its just a piece of wood + not much good for anything, but when you’ve got an engine as well, you can use the rudder to steer things in the right direction and get back on track.

And finally, a beautiful quote [that Anna P. once gave to me in a beautiful book – thank-you] that I think is quite appropriate right now…

“Don’t let life discourage you… everyone who got where he is had to be where he was.” – R.L. Evans

Goodluck everyone.

Perhaps a little case of the pot calling the kettle dirty-bottom…
3/10/02… A big HAPPY BIRTHDAY to Lucy who joins the prestigious “18 club” today! [NB: Max – I hope you realise that sentence was an obvious retort to your stance on the 18-issue!]

Just a short entry today in response to an attack from an unnamed person via their own webdiary. According to said person, it is stupid to consider others in dire situations around the world because we can’t go and save them “right this minute with [our] bare hands.” [And anyway, that was just one suggestion in a list of suggestions – Ed.] I’d say that “giv[ing] a sh!t about the people you call your friends” and talking to them for 3 hours a day are 2 very different things. Maybe at this stage of the year, “giv[ing] a sh!t about the people you call your friends” involves giving them the chance to work hard to achieve what they want/need to achieve. Sure, studying might not make you happy [it rarely makes anyone happy] but right now it’s something a lot of people have to do, and it doesn’t mean that you’re any less of a friend or you don’t “give a sh!t about the people you call your friends” if you can’t spend as much time with them or talking to them as you would like to jewellery right now.

I would suggest that if said person really “[gave] a sh!t about the people [she] call[s] [her] friends” and had “consideration for the people [she] actually know[s], who [she] *can* actually have an impact on,” as she declares she does so intensely, then she would treat them with at least an ounce of the consideration she so desires. Friendships are a two way street – if one person decides they’re going to drive on the wrong side of the road then you’re both going to end up in hospital. In my opinion, the following actions demonstrate a blatant lack of “consideration” or “giv[ing] a sh!t”…

1. making an obvious effort to barr someone on multiple occasions in a single night with very unclear motivation or justification

2. flying off the handle for no known reason, then abruptly leaving without explaining to anyone why you are upset or giving anyone a chance to confirm that no sinister attack was meant on you

3. telling someone to shut up because they don’t want to hear about the people you’re talking about

Basically, an extreme lack of consideration or tolerance or acceptance of other people. These would appear to be exactly the sort of “sin[s]” said person claims to be so morally outraged by, yet it’s interesting to note what said person has been up to of late....

One other thing. It’s no good deciding that you’re going to have a sh!t at someone without, firstly, letting them know you’re in a sh!t with them, and secondly, letting them know why on earth you’re even IN a sh!t with them. Subtle sh!tness never solves anything, because no-one knows what the hell is going on. And the last thing anyone needs right now is people being subtly sh!ty with them – it is in no way constructive for anyone. [And it makes for boring and repetitive webdiary entries – Ed.]

So let’s get one thing straight, people – make up your own mind, take your own stance, but don’t practise one thing and preach another glorious thing about yourself all over the internet – it’s hypocritical and just plain deceptive, and it’s “copouts like that that make me hate the human race”.

Apathy, the bane of my life
Following Katerina’s recent sparkling webdiary debut which now graces the net, I have decided to adapt her short-but-sweet style, which she yesterday used to describe her watermelon-morning, to describe my ridiculous morning:

6:00am – alarm went off. switched it off, rolled over.

6:10am – started to think about getting up.

6:11am – rejected idea as insane considering time.

6:12am – reconsidered idea as was going to have to leave house at 6:45, whether insane time or not.

6:13am – mind + body wrestled.

6:14am – body won the battle.

6:15am – but mind won the war. got up.

6:16am – looked in closet. see no clothes. see only hated clump of material. sit on bed, dismayed by lack of outfit choice.

6:20am – still dismayed.

6:25am – realise that outfit choice will not improve before must leave, so resolve to just put something on. put something on.

6:29am – walk to kitchen.

6:30am – open fridge. see no food. close fridge. open pantry. see no food. close pantry. start to return to room.

6:31am – receive lecture from dad re: negative impact of not eating breakfast. give in and open fridge again to consider non-food options. settle for peach + mango yoghurt. remove lid, pick up spoon + begin to eat.

6:32am – receive lecture from dad re: yoghurt is not enough for breakfast. ignore him by sitting + eating yoghurt with passive peaceful look on face.

6:35am – clean teeth. disgusting mix of mint + dairy. clean teeth again.

6:37am – wash face.

6:39am – throw everything might possibly need for the day into bag – result – does not fit.

6:42am – attempt to carry bag with multiple extras that did not fit to car. unsuccessful.

6:45am – realise have forgotten lunch. return to kitchen scowling. retrieve lunch. get in car and leave for city.

The rest of the morning passed in a similar fashion. Today is Chemistry day, so that probably explains my overwhelming lack of enthusiasm. Instead of doing work this morning, I filled out another annoyingly inquisitive uni college application form. I am sick of having to think about what I’m like and what my aspirations are. Yesterday at the medicine interview, they asked some of the most random questions that, personally, I cannot necessarily see as being relevant for doing medicine. We’re not supposed to talk about it much, but here’s one example:

INTERVIEWER: “What is your earliest memory of your childhood?”

BEC’S MIND: What? What?! I can’t even remember last week, let alone anything about my childhood! What is this question even trying to uncover?! Oh, just frickin make something up!

BEC’S LAME-ASS RESPONSE: “Uh…playing…in the backyard…with my dogs…and uh…riding a little tricycle…and…uh…singing…along to tapes…uh…” [with confused look on face as try to gauge whether am giving even remotely the type of response the interviewers are looking for]

So yea, how bizarre. Hopefully the rest of the day will be more productive…

A little dose of reality...

After having a friendly argument with a Max Bania the other day concerning the Israelis vs Palestinians “situation” in the Middle East, where Max was once again a walking/talking advertisement for US foreign policy [as he puts it], it made me realise that it’s been ages since I’ve talked with anyone about anything of any substance at all. Quite frankly, I’m sick to death of talking about ourselves and our pathetic little lives – who’s pissed off with who for what reason [or, as is often the case, for what non-reason], who got with who and how drunk they were and whether that’s an excuse, what everyone’s wearing to everything, what happened 5 minutes ago [which was usually not interesting then and certainly doesn’t become any more interesting 5 minutes later]. Right at the moment, when everyone is SUPPOSED to be supportive, friendly, or, at the very least, civil, it seems that the trend is to take small and insignificant situations/comments/facial expressions and blow them way out of both context and proportion, and create friction and ill-feeling where there is absolutely no need. So here’s a few suggestions – consider taking them on board + make our little world a happier place. I’m sure that everyone could do with a little reality check every now and then, myself included:

1. As Kay always reminds me, people are not as horrible as you expect. Next time someone says something to you which you could choose to take offence at, consider whether it was really meant to be offensive before you decide to launch a vendetta against that person – you could be throwing away a friendship, or just creating a shite situation, based on absolutely no grounds.

2. If you do decide that you were meant to take offence at a comment, consider whether you might have actually have some offence coming to you, and consider just accepting it, getting over it, and moving on.

3. If you think people are ignoring you and you’re feeling unloved and you feel an urge to go eat worms because you haven’t been having 10 hour D&M’s with every one of your friends lately, consider the fact that the HSC is looming on the horizon and is a priority for the vast majority of NSW Year 12 students. This is certainly not to say that friendships go out the window, only that it would obviously follow that, for the next 6 weeks, there may be some prioritising and time management, with less time allocated for D&M’s especially at peak work times.

4. If you have a lot of stuff to talk about, try sharing it around – unleash selected emotions on friends, family, pets, punching bags – they’re all more likely to be more helpful + supportive if they’re not the only one supporting you – think acrobatic triangle pyramid – there’s only one person at the top but a heap of people on the bottom levels helping them stay up there.

5. Finally, if you’re feeling stressed about the HSC, friendships, family, whatever – consider one or all of the following:

a. little Cambodian orphans whose parents have died of the AIDS virus

b. the 62 tiny boys + girls who will never know their fathers because their dads were hard at work in the World Trade Centre on the morning of September 11 before they were even born

c. innocent Israelis + Palestinians who live in fear of being the victim of yet another bombing

d. starving kids all across the planet

e. white Zimbabwean farmers who fear for their lives every day thanks to Mugabe condoning violence against them + the Commonwealth being totally powerless

f. Americans, who have to hear the sound of George Dubba’s voice even more often than we do

So next time you feel the urge to bitch or create a bitchy situation, just stop and think about whether what you’re doing will have ANY positive effect, because the answer is invariably NO.

Ripeness is all
18/9/02...On Saturday night, in my extremely alcoholic state, I suddenly, for the first time in ages, felt like I had something really worthwhile to say on this page, so I furiously wrote it all down and promptly fell asleep. I awoke the next afternoon and tried to read the words I had written. Unfortunately it seemed that not only had I apparently forgotten how to hold a pen the previous night but I had also forgotten how to construct sensical sentences. Result - the illegible non-sensical mass of words that covered the paper were most definitely not worthy of entering on this long-neglected page.

For the first time in [possibly] years, I actually feel motivated. This new mood crept upon me subtly at the beginning of the week, and it's a nice change to the random spontaneous-but-unfollowed-through panic attacks of "sh!t - the HSC is really really close!" that have been attacking me of late, because in this new phase, I feel the impending doom but instead of freaking me out it's propelling me forward. The end is in sight, I can see the light at the end of the bloody long tunnel, other side of the Year 12 bog is visible, yadda yadda, .

Anyway, this new-found motivation is currently propelling me to go and do some work - hurrah!

5.5 more days to go!

Let the good times roll
17/8/02...Suddenly, the world seems like a perfectly fine place to live, in fact, "better than alright." [I had to slip something from West Side in here Amy!] Although we have the worst time of exams ahead of us, right now its time to let our hair down and completely forget about that little 3-letter piece of crap. Between now and then, there's no more assessments. There is, however, new found 18 freedom, many an 18th, and no doubt much painting of the town in a rich blood red colour. I have been inspired by my brother's birthday gift [2003 Sydney Good Bar Guide - Jas, you little legend] to attempt to visit all the bars in the CBD, Inner City, and Northern areas at some stage, and what better time to start than now when there's much celebrating to be done?!

The celebrating got off to a good start last night, with an early dinner at North Sydney with the whole gang, then onwards to Cargo on King Street Wharf. The evening was fairly uneventful, but that was what was great. We just went to the bar, ordered some drinks, went upstairs to the lounge, sat around having a drink and chatting with each other + other people sitting around us. Every now and then, I'd suddenly think "wow! this is us just being us, sitting in a bar having a drink and chilling out together?!", and it was a fantastic realisation, that we can just do that now. If we want to sit around and talk, but also dance a little + talk to other people, we don't just have to go to Belaroma and sip cappuchinos or mochas as we chat + laugh at each other - we can sip our cosmopolitans or g&t's and chat + laugh anywhere we want.

Time for some more partying tonite - a Mediterranean 18th. Unfortunately, there is many a dark cloud threatening from the not-so distant horizon, but I'm sure it will turn out great anyway - how could it not, when every single person [well, at least from ours + other schools that have just finished trials] is currently carefree + up for partying?!

Let those good times roll...

1 down, 7 to go...
I would just like to let you all know that I wrote this yesterday, but was unable to post it due to technological difficulties – namely, the existence of the TV which distracted me from my intended purpose of posting this entry. I’m just going to post it exactly as it was yesterday, so just jump in a timewarp to yesterday afternoon...

And so the trials began today. Unusually, I set off for school disturbingly calm, wondering where on earth stress-out Bec had run to, as I had imagined that she would be in full control of the greater Bec being on this, the first day of trials. Then I did some maths, which may seem odd considering that today’s exam was English, but it was English-relevant maths, and I thought I’d share it with you [NB: calculations may vary slightly from school to school based on different assessment programs.]

In these trials, the 2 Advanced English exams combined make up 30% of our assessment mark. Of this 30%, 40% is allocated to Area of Study, while the other 60% is split evenly between the modules. So today’s exam was only worth 12% of our assessment mark. Furthermore, although all 3 sections in the Area of Study paper are worth the same amount, only 1 can really be studied for, and thus stressed about – the others are totally out of our hands. [and yes, they may be the crappest sections for those such as myself who are not creative writers or fantastic bullshit artists when it comes to commenting on stimulus material, but they’re still unpreparable and thus, we cannot realistically stress about them.] So back to the maths, the essay is only 1/3 of the exam, which means that’s 4% of our assessment mark, which in the HSC boils down to 2% of our total mark for Advanced English. Which results it in being about shit all. So it’s no wonder I wasn’t stressed. It’s rather nice to ease into an exam period with an exam that is worth so little.

Now to rugby. Firstly, a couple of things to clear up. Max claimed the other day that a rugby match goes for 160 minutes. Now, if that’s the case, then I don’t think I have ever watched a full game of rugby. Maybe Max knows something we don’t know, maybe the players play one lot of 80 minutes in front of the crowd, and then go off to some remote cow paddock and play the other 80 minutes under the stars to a crowd of clover? Or maybe not...

I would also suggest this to Max, who was outraged that the team who [supposedly] showed themselves to be the better team for “155 of the 160 minutes” [NB – I have retained Max’s original calculations] – consistency, consistency, consistency. What’s the point in being the better team for the majority of the game, and then replacing competent yet slightly less defensive backs for the likes of the oaf who stuck his hand in the ruck to give away the penalty? You can bet that guy’s going get his hand chopped off while walking down a darkened alley one night back in good old NZ. On the other hand, the Australians just kept playing their game and in the end it was the “All Blicks” who made the mistake. And what a sweet mistake it was.

My personal opinion is that every time the kiwis get close to winning in Australia, they get so excited about the idea of winning and stop thinking about playing rugby. They turn to defensive tactics, forget trying to score points and think only about maintaining their score, forgetting that the Wallabies have the annoying ability to score points AFTER the siren and, thus, that they really should keep on their toes until everyone has left the field.

Anyway, enough rugby, time for a Starbucks break – a Caramel Macchiato, I do believe. I must also say that I was shocked and yet pleasantly surprised to hear Max’s views on the addition of a Starbucks to the lovely suburb of Balmain. Indeed, Starbucks is getting much better at concealing itself, as Amy will testify, having totally missed the Starbucks on Martin Place, walking straight past it despite my directions as to exactly where it was. Although I have to disagree with one point – the coffee is far from pissweak [although I will consent to a disgruntledness re: price] and is available in a variety of forms for all café occasions [and, actually, budgets – although the coffee you want to buy is usually at least $3.50, you can get a good wholesome shot of espresso for $2.35, or a steaming cup of delicious sweet Tazo tea for $1.90!].

...

Ah, love that tall skim Caramel Macchiato. So much choice at Starbucks, and not just in the choice of drink itself, but the variations of the drink and the available additions + accessories. cappuccino? latte? caramel latte? mocha? caramel mocha? espresso? espresso macchiato? frappacino? short, tall, grande or viende? skim or full cream? caf or decaf? double shot? chocolate or cinnamon or vanilla on top? spoon or stirrer? lid? insulating sleeve? [which, btw, uses 45% less materials than using a second cup – Starbucks looks after the environmental state of our world in reducing landfill!] Not only that, but your coffee is made by baristas who have had at least 3 months training in making damn good coffee – none of this kid-from-up-the-road-who’s-only-employed-because-the-owner-knows-his-mum-and-he-needs-a-job-to-save-some-money-and-they’ve-given-him-one-even-though-he-can’t-make-a-coffee-to-save-his-life crap. So yes, I agree with Max – anyone who has jumped on the “We can’t let transnational corporations like Starbucks destroy our culture with their quality coffee in comfortable coffee houses!” can continue to buy their crappy coffee which is generally the product of our culture. Let’s face it – we’ve never had a fantastic coffee tradition that we need to preserve – instead, we’re transplanting a great coffee culture for a comparatively low cost – in olde Paris it costs the equivalent of $8.50 of our crappy Australian dollars for your average cappuccino.

And Starbucks looks after its customers! Amy and I sat in the Starbucks on the corner of Park + Elizabeth for 3 hours, having only bought 1 short caramel macchiato each, and not only were we never pressured to leave despite the fact that we hogged 2 of the armchairs the whole time, but we were brought samples of their new coffee and a piece of chocolate brownie to sample with it, since the coffee was supposed to really compliment chocolate. Now that, in my mind, is the mark of a good coffee house – somewhere that understands that students are poor and can only afford one coffee a day [if they choose Starbucks] and still allows them to enjoy the café lifestyle – sitting around and chatting in their establishment. Back in the ‘burbs, it’s a different story at our frequented cafes – Brewbakers + Belaroma – at Brewbakers you’re given the evil “you must leave now that you have finished spending your money here” eye as soon as your last drop of coffee has been consumed, while at Belaroma, they virtually pressure you into ordering another one, and if you’re there with 10 friends who all order a 3 course meal with drinks and coffee but you don’t want anything, its too bad – a minimum $3 charge applies to all people who dare to occupy a seat. So you think, ah to hell with it, and order a crappy mocha for $3.50.

Tonight, the season finals of both Sex + the City and the Secret Life of Us grace our screens. In direct defiance of the trials and the fact that they make me study, I intend to watch both, and the repeat episode of Sex + the City that will follow the final. Hurrah!

Guten lucken to all Trial-doers – now that the engine is in motion the whole experience will soon be behind us, but a distant memory, a mere crappy fragment of the larger picture that is this crappy year.

Lastly, in revising some notes for these wretched trials, I came upon some quotes that I had randomly scrawled on random pages, knowing that at times like this I would appreciate the memory of such random moments of humour. This one was from the great Dr Townsend, [English Extension teacher who, of late, has taken to contradicting everything she said the day before and then attempting to deny it, to the point where it has become a hilarious joke and she begins each lesson with, “Right girls, this is what I think today, but not necessarily what I will think tomorrow…” – very worrying considering she is the Head of our English Department – probably has something to do with our consistently *quality* HSC English marks] who was attempting to describe the scene at the end of The Revenger’s Tragedy where virtually every character has just been killed in a hilariously black scene which flows somewhat in the manner of “Now I am the Duke! Haha!” “Oh no you’re not! [stab stab] Now I am the Duke! Haha!” “Oh no you’re not! [stab stab] Now I am the Duke!” “Oh no you’re not! [stab stab stab stab etc etc]:

“You get a sense that they’re all dead.”

How very very helpful. This is the quality of teaching we get nowadays. It’s no wonder we’re not stressed about the trials – we know we’ll be stuffed even after we study all of our *in depth* notes.

my sweater is on backwards + inside out and you say how appropriate
A light flickers above her head, producing dancing patterns on the stark white pages below. Somewhere in the distance, a vacuum cleaner produces a strangled squeal at the whim of its master. The deep thud of the base permeates the building, wafting up from Jackson’s on George, where the corporate world welcomes another glorious weekend with a drink or two. However, for the HSC student upstairs on the deserted level 4, it is no glorious weekend. As she peers through half-rimmed glasses, the processed McDonalds 6-pack chicken nugget meal beside her offering little sustenance, at the screen where words form at the command of her fingertips, she sighs. For her, the night is young, the “to do” list endless, the midnight oil waiting and ready to be burned. There will be no good times this weekend.

Sorry about that – just attempting to follow ex-Extension English teacher Mrs Kitching’s advice to devote 5 minutes a day to writing creatively about a thought or an experience. Yes, it was a rather pathetic attempt, but what can I say – it is well known that I am no Shakespeare, nor Wordsworth, nor Blake, nor Harwood. Although, it is my personal opinion that Harwood has no idea, and to some extent she agrees, as proved by her follow-up poem to “In the Park,” where she openly denounces her earlier poem as a pathetic wallow in a deep blue funk of self-perpetuated misery – “Did she write that?” she says in the second poem. Yes, she did, and although she wishes she hadn’t [“wishing she’d never written about that dowdy housewife and her brood”] we are compelled to study it. The Bored of Studies has reached all new heights – adding texts that composers regret composing to the list of set texts – well done!

The other day, I wrote an entry, which I intended to put in here, declaring this webdiary officially suspended until post-Trials [not that my efforts have been particularly forthcoming of late in any case]. However, since reading recent entries in other webdiaries, I’ve decided that I may actually have something worthwhile to say in this time of stress + emotional turmoil. Maybe not, but I’m just keeping my options open – you can be the judge of whether its worthy of reading. But if you judge it unworthy, who really cares – you read it anyway! And I’d just like to say upfront that I make not apologies for any reference to the HSC, deliberate or otherwise, because let’s face it people – from now until November 8, it is pretty much the focus of our lives [and if you’re unlucky, it might be the focus of your life for an additional week – oh the glory of finishing the HSC at the end of the 3rd week + being able to go to the Jamiroquai concert totally free of stress + pressure!]

My attempts at studying in my own home have been futile, as most of you know, due largely to my neighbours + their power tools + their noisy dogs, as well as my own complete lack of self-discipline + self-control. Thus, of late, I have become a regular visitor of the Gordon + State Libraries [Gordon on weeknights, State on weekends – too many North Shore ppl doing the HSC to even THINK about going near Gordon on the weekends leading up to the Trials] and also, more recently, of my dad’s office. The multitude of benefits of working at dad’s office [tea + coffee facilities, security – can leave laptop + go for a wander, can take backpack in, Starbucks just down the road, phones + internet available, bathrooms down the hall, printing facilities, loads of free stationary (little post-it flags + fluro folder dividers + everything!), dad paying for lunch, etc] almost outweighs the negative of having to study. Ok, no, that’s a lie. But if you’re going to study, it’s a pretty good setup.

But what I actually wanted to say about going into dad’s office is that it has made me believe that there are actually worthwhile ppl out there in the world waiting to be met once we free ourselves of the shackles we call school.

Case Study – Andrew Sharpe – analyst for Climate Control division [basically extended geography – looks at how economic/social/political climate affects companies + businesses] in Deloitte Touche Tomatsu; age – unknown [my guess – fresh out of uni]; schooldays – Cranbrook, Captain of Debating [made CAS debating team]; sports – sailing + squash; uni – UNSW; decent-looking bloke, friendly, helpful, chatty even, and more impressively – eloquent. Yes ladies, a cute, eloquent, friendly guy [with a good dress sense, I might add]. I too was shocked. Rarely does one find such a combination of qualities in one person.

This guy, however, is not a focus of infatuation [although I will admit I like talking to him], but something more important on a large scale – the starting point for the realisation that there are intelligent people worth meeting out there, and more specifically, intelligent guys. That is not to say that I have not met nice intelligent people, or specifically nice intelligent guys, thus far in my life. It’s just reassuring to know that there are more of them. And that the traits that may dissatisfy us with the intelligent people we already know may not exist in these new people. Basically, the experience has served to open my eyes to the infinite realms of possibility.

In the words of a modern-day poet: “It’s a beautiful day – don’t let it get away.”

One more thing: for all those facing English exams over the next week or so, here’s an example of how NOT to prove a point in an essay, as demonstrated by one whom we shall refer to as “Tourettes” [I have no problem with referring to the mental condition in a 75% joking way – heh (see Tourettes’ page)] who attempted to prove a point about the people in Brave New World:

“I mean, it’s not like they’re being mind-controlled or anything... oh wait... they are being mind-controlled... well anyway, that’s not the point!”

Year 12 - what's cool + what's not
25/6/02...This is a trying, hellish year for most of us, in many different ways. At different times, nearly everyone has cracked under mounting pressure - quite understandable. The HSC is certainly an excrutiating experience, and many people have to make sacrifices in order to try and achieve their best. However, I don't think that one can survive this year by totally shutting out all friends for fear that a tiny bit of socialising will cause an immediate drop in their marks/rankings/exam preparation. Though I will grant that there are occassions when, for a certain amount of time, there are just too many assessments to be done and not enough time and so for those periods, one may become a social hermit. One may not simply ignore long term friends who have made an effort to come and see you, especially friends who only want to borrow your ear for a grand total of about 2 minutes to say "hi - how are you - well done - bye." Making a deliberate effort to be a bastard, especially if one has already been giving that a really good go for a while [even if one still maintains that they did not, since they know they at least created that impression, even if they didn't care] is totally uncalled for and unacceptable, even in stressful situations.

That, in my mind, is absolutely pathetic, rude, uncaring, inconsiderate and insensitive behaviour, and is completely intolerable, no matter what the circumstances. People have to understand that the HSC creates enough problems - there is certainly no need for everyone to take it upon themselves to create additional problems for everyone else.

One more thing - if you know that something you've done/said has upset a friend, and you do actually care about maintaining that friendship, then possibly the absolute worst thing you can say is "get over it".

"Assessment Task: Write an undefined amount on an undefined topic concerning undefined sections of 2 texts."
5/6/02...Is it normal for the English department to hand out new assessments before they've even given our last ones back to us? Surely there must be some law against this somewhere in the Board of Studies regulations? And what is the point of having the "minimum of 2 weeks" rule for assessments when they give us the assessment on the same day that we're starting the module at school?! I understand the new focus on independent learning, but why do English teachers demonstrate this stubborn refusal to teach us anything at all? As Nikki [one of the smarties of our grade] said the other day: "I could learn more in 1 day locked away in my room than we learn in an entire week at school!" And I don't doubt her in the slightest.

The English department will insist on making questions as vague as possible, and will consistently refuse to define any parameters. For our advanced assessment, they tell us to look at "the opening" of Brave New World and Bladerunner, but they will absolutely not tell us exactly what "the opening" is. Thanks, thanks a lot. For extension, there's a random question about genre which could imply that you have to look at a development of the genre, or it could just mean an exploration of the genre in general. Basically, this all just creates a situation where nobody is sure of anything, and when I'm unsure, I leave things to the last minute, hoping that as time goes by I will develop a thesis about what I'm supposed to be doing and that when I come to write I will have a clear idea of what the question means. Unfortunately, it just means that I still have no idea the night before, and I end up churning out some form of drivel at 3am.

As usual, my body has decided that, right when I need it to be at its physical peak, it will give me a searing pain in my left shin when I run, walk, or stand. Wonderful. CIS x-country is in 2 weeks, IGSSA Athletics is the day after that, so as usual everything is going to plan. Yea.

Today we had our first hit of *Wacky Wednesday* - the brainchild of the illustrious house captains inspired by the Dr Seuss book. Supposedly something *wacky* is going to happen every wednesday, and the first person to email the house captains at their new email address created specially for this purpose - wackywednesday@hotmail.com - wins food and house points. *Hurrah!* What is the point, you ask? Supposedly, to "make school a bit more fun". Hmmm. The sort of *wacky* things we're talking about are examples such as the science department all wearing black pants, or the geography staff all wearing their hair out, or the house captains wearing junior uniform! My goodness, what a wacky time we have ahead of us! Or perhaps replace the "c" with an "n" for a more realistic description.

Finally, I have to say that I can't really get excited about World Cup soccer. Australia failed to qualify despite the fact that the number of teams entered into the inital pools was raised this year. I have no affiliation with any other team, except perhaps a distant one with England, but not really enough to make me care, especially when they're going to pull out such *brilliant* performances as the other night. Maybe the whole team just decided to have a bludge night because they knew none of the royal family would be watching the match. And even though the majority of the [admittedly superficially] powerful people in England were in church probably praying for a opening match triumph, their prayers were not answered, and I feel that England's side will crash and burn. Let's face it - the majority of the great players in the Premier League don't play for England.

First match success has clearly gone to the heads of all those Italians in Leichardt. Maybe that's why Australia fails in the game of soccer - we're just not that passionate about it. We already have many other sports where we dominate the rest of the world - I think we've all just decided that we started too late with soccer, and it's never really going to happen for us. The talent drain overseas will continue while overseas clubs tempt young stars with lucrative contracts, and no NSL team in Oz is ever going to shell out anywhere near that kind of money for a great player, and certainly not for someone who MIGHT be a great player.

In any case, for me its "thanks but no thanks" to world cup soccer this time around.

quote of the moment: "Hair is more important than education" - Cami [she was totally serious]. And I must say that with the education our educational institution seems insistant on NOT providing, perhaps she is closer to the truth than one would first think...

It's all good
30/5/02...As I sit here in the common room, surrounded by the filth left by my thoughtless peers, it occurred to me that I no longer hate school and all of the accompanying HSC pressures with the same degree of passion that I did at the start of the year. Talking to Jamie last night, I realised that I don’t really care that I have no social life, no love life, no life at all to speak of, except HSC life. I feel like I’m on the downhill run – 69 days of school to go, and where once I would have said “that’s 69 days of hell”, now I say “that’s 69 days until this shit is over.” A subtle change, but a change nonetheless. This could be to do with the fact that I only have a mere 5 assessments left to go [not including the trials], and this fact is made even more marvellous by the additional fact that none of those remaining assessments have anything to do with maths! Hurrah! Just 2 more exams, and I will be rid of maths for the rest of my life. Ooh, what a thought.

Meanwhile, what do you wear to a party with an “Alpine Theme” if you don’t particularly want to look like a Michelin Man? Snowflake earings, perhaps? Slightly problematic if one doesn’t have one’s ears pierced. Can a random scarf pass as “Alpine”? Perhaps a beanie, but they always look stupid. Or earmuffs, which heat your ears up too much. A pair of ski goggles? I like my lovely Arnette goggles, but I think I would like to see the world in the colours nature intended, as opposed to everything being a shade of orange. Ski boots? As amusing as the ski boot swagger is, I don’t think it’s the best dancing move I’ve ever seen. Ski pants and ski jackets present the “I look like a fat marshmellow” problem. Perhaps some ski gloves? But they’re pretty much shaped so that you can hold a stock and only a stock, so holding drinks might be an issue. Perhaps a balaclava? That would solve both the “I want my hair to look good” and the “I want my face to look good” problems, so perhaps that is the answer. Yes, a balaclava it is.

Having decided that, I’m very excited by this “Alpine Theme” party, which I figure just gives us an excuse to drink shots of peach schnapps and grappa and other assorted very alcoholic drinks. After all, isn’t that what skiing is all about?? Well, certainly, that’s what night-time “Alpine” is about. Mmm, schnapps.

The cross country and athletics seasons are not yet over, but hockey trials have begun, and I must say, I started off in my usual “style”. I think it’s safe to say that I have assured myself that there will be no place in the 1st or 2nd XI for me, thanks to a series of terrible tackles, shocking stacks, miserable mis-hits, and a demonstration of my poor stick skills. The only thing I have going for me is my fitness [thank god for cross country], which is lucky since the position of half requires pretty much the most running, and thus the most fitness, of any position on the field. However, there is a bright side to being in a lower team – more fun, less stress, more good times. It will all work out.

That’s my new motto – it will all work out. If something is meant to happen, it will happen. If not, it won’t happen. So let’s just all go along for the ride and see where we end up.

quote of the week: Mrs Moore [our principle] “I know you’re all doing your best, but it’s not good enough” [last part slightly rephrased – that’s the general gist]

A fresh start
24/5/02...Having discovered that the user name "bec weeks" is incredibly easy to search and thus discover my hidden webpage, I have decided to start again. Below are all of my old entries, and as soon as I ask Max how, I'll archive them away somewhere.

Moving info around the net is a tiring job, and I'm spent.

Entries from my previous page
Year 12 = Bog

Once again, I am left to ponder the disasters which come upon us around this time of year - half-yearly exams. Although I only had 2 exams this time around, since we no longer officially have half-yearly exams and each faculty just decides to give us one in the double period or not, it would seem that the maths and geography faculties conferred to decide on 2 dates that would be most annoying; namely, consecutive days.

The geography exam is a most interesting phenomenon. Unlike maths, where everyone has their double at the same time and everyone sits the same assessment at the same time, everyone has geography at different times. So while I sat for one paper yesterday, another class sat for a completely different paper the day before that, and yet another class will sit for another different paper tomorrow. I'm not just talking different essay questions, although the essay questions did differ, not only in the topics they covered but also in the degree of difficulty. Oh no, I'm talking different broadsheets, different questions, different short answer questions, different long answer questions. Different everything. How can this task be comparable and assessable?! Ridiculous.

So I overstudied for geography and understudied for maths, and yet found myself instantly hating the geography paper and struggling through it, while maths was not that bad. It was semi-bad, but it definately could have been a lot worse. And while I already know that I've done things wrongs, it's not things that I would have done better had I studied more.

We are left to ponder the perpetual question: how much study is enough? is there such a thing as too much study? and why is it that sometimes you can study for hours and hours and get into an exam and feel that it was all wasted?

All I can say is thank god I only had 2 half-yearlies. Personally, I think it's criminal to just have exams chucked in amongst the regular routine of school, class work, homework, assessments + extra stuff. Where is the time to study? Where?, I ask you.

The answer is: behind us. Unfortunately, so much time has already passed that in some cases, such as mine, I don't think it can be made up. So many chances when I could have been making study notes, so many chances when I could have been getting ahead on an assessment. Such as now, for instance. But I guess some of us never learn, and we are doomed to perpetual underachievement. Ah well, such is life.

I believe I have thought through the perfect analogy for Year 12, summed up in one word: bog. Yes, bog. Picture it: there you are, in a bog. When you first walk into the bog, it's just you with the clothes on your back. The ground on the bottom is a little squishy, but since you're not carrying any weight, it's not too bad. For a while, you walk on through the bog, you can see the dry land on the other side, and your feet are just a little muddy and cold. Gradually, though, as the assessments pile up on you, and you get some terrible marks back and the pressure seems to build up and push you down, your feet sink into the bog. Suddenly, it's not so easy to walk, and as the bad things keep piling up and pushing you down, all you can do is keep your chin up as high as you can so that you can still breathe air and not bog. With your chin up that high, you certainly can't see the other side of the bog, and yet if you bring your chin down, you'll drown. So you stand there for a while, trying to get some of the weight off that's forcing you into the soft ground of the bog, and you're cold and muddy. Eventually, the weight lessens, and you can rise up a little bit, then a bit more and a bit more. But now, you're all muddy and cold, and the memory of being bogged down is very vivid and a little scary. So next time when the weight starts piling up, you try not to let it push you down so far. But sometimes it happens anyway, and all you can do is keep your head above the bog and breathe. And remember that there is something on the other side of the bog, and that thing is........ SCHOOLIES! And then of course, the rest of our lives. But the great thing is that, although we can see that there is another side across the bog, we can't really see what it looks like. We don't know yet, it's undecided, and it can be anything we want it to be!

Ew, that ended up sounding a little too peppy and optimistic for my liking, but there's no time to change it - I'm currently sinking in the bog under the weight of 2 assessments: English and Modern History. Some people just never learn, no matter how many times they sink in the bog.

Rejoice in your post-exam status, grammar boys!

PLC girls - just keep your head above the bog and breathe! Aaaaah!

Thursday, May 23, 2002

Que sera sera... [no, it's nothing related to grammar cheers]

Thursday was the day of my 13th and final Pymble Athletics Carnival, and, happily, I would have to say that it was my most successful. Apparently, the cross country training I've been doing this year, which has incorporated a fair bit of sprint-style training, has helped immensely with my speed, to the point where I found myself finishing a shocking 2nd in the 18 years Championship 100 metres. I repeated this performance in the 200 metres, and my time in the 100m was fast enough to qualify me for the inaugural "Best of the Best" Championship race over 100m, which was quite amusing. The theme for the day, for me, was "What the?" - quite appropriate considering that I was walking around with that phrase on my back for a good portion of the day. My friends in the cross country team just thought the whole thing was hillarious, as did I. Other people thought I'd been taking speed or some other performace enhancing drug. I assure you, I was not. I do not understand what caused this phenomenon to occur. I have raced for all these years, believing I did not have enough fast-twitch muscle to sprint, and suddenly, that's all turned on it's head! What a nice surprise.

I must say, I've always wanted sprints to be my event. There's so much less stress involved. You just line up, and run as hard as you can, and then it's over in 13 or so seconds. Contrastingly, the 800m and x-country events demand a lot of psychological input:

-how fast should I go out?

-when should I drop back into race pace?

-what is my race pace?

-can I maintain this pace?

-I need to throw up - should I stop or keep running as I'm throwing up? [yes, it is possible, I would know]

-when should I pick up the pace again?

-am I going to die?

As Mike, our x-country coach says, distance running is 90% from the neck up. And personally, I don't like having to think so much when I'm running - it's too stressful, and I have nightmares about it, as I've mentioned before. In fact, since Max was talking about dreams, I'll detail for you the dream I had last Friday night before the IGSSA x-country:

We were all standing at the starting line in the freezing cold of the Mittagong morning, waiting for the gun. Suddenly, it went; Sare, Em and I got a great start, we were out in front. Then suddenly, the 3 of us all stumbled and fell, and as we lay there, the 100 other runners all ran over the top of us, and they were all wearing spikes. There seemed to be a never-ending stream of spike-wearing runners, and they just kept running, ignoring the fact that we were lying there being crushed and ripped to shreds, scratches, cuts and gashes all over our bodies. And we just lay there in a pool of blood.

Well there you go Max, was that an interesting dream? I suppose it is according to your definition [dream not about sex = interesting dream], but perhaps this would be more of a nightmare. The scary thing was, in the 15 years age group, that did actually happen! Well, not the part about everyone wearing spikes, because you're not allowed to wear spikes for x-country races for the exact reason that my dream could happen. But yea, these poor little kids who were at the front of the pack fell and just got totally trampled - and it freaked all of us out.

On a school-related note, I think I have discovered the way marks work. It doesn't really matter how hard you work [the "inverse work/result relationship" theory seems to have disproved itself], it's more that, no matter what you do, the work that you hand in will find it's way to your "mark plateau". This "mark plateau" may well be different for each subject, but in my experience, if you get a low excellent mark for an english assessment and you really tried, you may as well just not try for the next one, because you'll get a low excellent for that as well. This has been proved by getting back our recent English Extension assessments. People who usually do really well and seriously thought they majorly stuffed this one up still did really well. People who do usually pretty well and worked really hard still did pretty well. People who usually do really well but left it till the last minute and handed in a half-hearted effort still did really well. People who usually do pretty well but left it till the very last minute and handed in a half-hearted effort still did pretty well. Conclusions? Don't bother trying - if you're meant to do well, you'll do well; if not, then you won't do well.

In fact, I don't think any of us should really worry about anything. I was having a chat with my dad this morning, and I realised there have been many random events that happened in his life that have led to him being pretty happy and comfortable right now. Just to illustrate this, I'm going to trace one random thing:

-He was recruited for a job in an accounting firm in London, along with 30 other guys. The other 30 guys all went over to England in October, but they stuffed up dad's work permit papers and sent them to Afghanistan by mistake [seriously]. At the time, dad was all stressed, because he thought that they might just give his job to someone else, but eventually they tracked his papers and he got over there in October.

-When he got over there, a guy in his firm said he had a friend who had just arrived from New Zealand who needed someone to flat with, so dad said he'd flat with him.

-As it turned out, the guy who dad was flatting with was Donald, a good friend of my Mum's from NZ, and it was through Donald that my parents first met. [mum came around to Donald's to say hi, but he wasn't there - instead, this muscly, tanned Aussie wearing shorts and thongs opened the door, and so began a beautiful romance. Ah.]

So if my dad had got to England when he was supposed to, he would have been flatting with someone else and probably would have never met my mum. Not to say that things would have turned out badly - things may have turned out even better. The point is, at the time, it looked like a bad situation, and it turned out fine.

So I've decided that I'm not going to stress about what every assessment mark means and what getting a certain mark in the HSC might mean. In the end, life will just happen anyway, so we may as well just go with the flow and wait + see what's in store for us. It can't all be bad.

Can it?

Saturday, May 18, 2002

The pain, oh the pain

Why do we put ourselves through the hell that is cross country running? Are we all just masochistic freaks who enjoy the terrible things that running 6kms at break-neck pace does to our bodies? I don't know, but for some reason, we all turn up to Frensham each year in the freezing cold, line up for a race which we regret entering, then spend the next 20/30 mins gasping for breath, feeling our bones grinding with each thump of a foot on the ground, letting our muscles slowly work their way into a non-functioning state, and then, for some of us, finishing the whole disaster off by throwing up whatever we ate for breakfast. We realise every year that there is absolutely nothing fun about the event except stopping at the end, but unfortunately we only realise this just before we're about to hear the starting gun.

So the annual event was on again today, and considering the lack of training all of us Year 12's have done this year, for obvious reasons, we did suprisingly well: Sare Longes placed a fantastic 4th, I came in at 13, and Em, having had a knee reconstruction about 6 months ago, came in at an admirable 16. So Sare + I made it into the IGSSA team for CIS, and em is reserve, so she'll get to run anyway. Everyone else in our age group also did really well, but I have so many numbers floating around in my head that I forget which ones should be associated with which people, so I'll just say that everyone did really well, because they did.

As usual, there was a bit of drama - there hasn't been a x-country yet where there hasn't been a dispute of some sort. Today, our age group was the one under examination: the girl who finished 1st, by a long long long way, actually went the wrong way for a tiny part of the race, through no fault of her own - the course was unclear and there was no-one directing people. The distance she ran was virtually equal to the distance we ran, and she was so far ahead of us all that there was no doubt that she would have won comfortably in any case. So we were all fine with her winning, but then the officials decided that rules were rules, and they disqualified her. Drama. So we all moved up a spot, which meant that Sare got a bronze medal! Plus, the combined efforts of Sare, Em and myself [they take the scores from the top 3 runners at each school] meant that we took home the silver medals for the teams event in our age group, and PLC placed a commendable 3rd overall - not bad considering that we'd lost a few of our best runners to injuries in the week before.

So it's onto the next round - CIS at Eastern Creek - a challenging course, due to its continous slopes. We have a month between each meet, so hopefully we can all improve because they only take the top 10 from the next meet to represent CIS at CHS.

In the meantime, there's a lot of schoolwork to be done, just for a change, haa haa haa. PLC's have a whole stream of continuous assessments about to hit us head on, and poor Grammars are busily preparing for scary half-yearly exams - good luck guys.

Well, my aching bones + muscles are begging me for a rest, + considering that I wasted a whole day today by driving down to Mittagong and back, I really need to do about 100 hours of work tomorrow, so I think I'll go and sleep and try to get rid of the arthritis developing in my knees - I really do think x-country, being high impact, is extremely bad for you!

Funny experience of the week: ordering a pizza before debating, then having Mrs Gleeson [my Geography teacher] ring Sare on her mobile to tell her that she had our pizza, because the Pizza Hut guy had ignored our instructions + had gone to the staffroom!

Saturday, May 11, 2002

"Please turn off your mobile phones as you enter as they may interfer with hospital equipment..."

One day in the not too distant future, we are all going to get old and die. Some of us may slip away quietly in our sleep at a ripe old age, some of us may die tragically in car or train or plain crashes/random street stabbings or shootings/suicide bombings etc in our prime, and some of us may spend our last few days/months/weeks/years in hospitals or nursing homes, slowly but surely losing every precious piece of what makes us us, becoming just another pasty face in another ward.

More than anything, seeing someone that you've known forever suddenly and unusally sick, propped up in a hospital bed with their teeth in a glass on a table beside the bed, hardly saying a word [not least of all because their upper teeth are not actually in their mouth], not being able to drink even a sip of water without throwing up, being discussed by relatives as though they are not even in the room - it's a shocking reminder that everyone dies. Everyone. And one day we are going to be making trips to hospitals and nursing homes, not to visit sick grandparents, but sick friends - friends we know now, when we're youthful and full of life. We will be old: we will be grey, we will be wrinkled, we will be sick, we will die.

I don't want to visit friends and see them slowly dying before my eyes. I don't want to open the paper at the obituaries page and see a familar name each day. I don't want to attend more funerals per year than parties. I don't want to have hips replaced and cancers removed and I don't want my friends to have to go through that either. I want a youthful death. Perhaps a car crash in my 60's, or something of the like, because I really don't think I'm going to like being old. Or, if I have to be old for a little while, I want to be perfectly healthy until I pass away peacefully in my sleep. I don't want to see my friends in pain that can't be cured, nor would I want any spouse or child or grandchild I may ever have to have to see me in such a way, aside from the fact that I'm not one for pain anyway and I'm sure it would suck.

So let's all take care of our bodies now, and hopefully they'll return the favour and be nice and healthy to the end. Whenever that may be.

Saturday, April 27, 2002

The new "it" place

I just thought I'd take a moment to comment on the most buzzing social spot on the North Shore - Gordon Library. Yes folks, that's where everyone is. Gone are the days when people would get together in groups to see a movie or go and have coffee - the new trend is to get together in study groups and hang out at the library "doing work". If you're in the mood for socialising, you can even just rock up by yourself - there's a guarantee that you'll see at least 3 people you know.

Seriously though, the library is a good place to work - Gordon library has a really good atmosphere, work-style fluroescent lighting, and best of all, no distractions. Well, that is, except for the 100 or so other Year 12's in there also working.

I feel I should comment though on the ludicrousy [is that a word?] of the bags + locker system. I walked through the doors of the library yesterday, ignoring, as usual, the sign saying "no bags", and carried my bursting backpack + laptop to a suitable table, having already bumped into 2 people + had a chat. About 1.5 hours after I'd got there, this librarian came along to every single Year 12 with their overflowing backpacks and said [every single time] "this library has a no bags policy - you'll have to take your bag outside". Argh. This presented problems in itself, as I had to take my laptop with me + get all unsettled etc.

Anyway, so I get out to the foyer, and everyone is just dumping their backs in a pile. However, as I do not have a packback of my own [my schoolbag barely makes it to school and back each day, but I refuse to buy a new one because (a) it's a waste of money considering that I would only use it for 2 terms, (b) I refuse to allow myself or my parents to waste any more money on my *lovely* school other than what is absolutely necessary, and (c) they could not have designed an uglier backpack for the new schoolbag --> it is beyond hideous] I'd taken Jason's plain black schoolbag [without him knowing - he's away]. So I just knew that something would happen to it if I left it just sitting there, and Jason would never let me hear the end of it. So, reluctantly, I shelled out $1.10 for a locker. Gordon has these new bizarre lockers - all computerised - you punch in a code that you choose, it gives you a locker, it opens it and then it closes it. So I put Jason's bag in locker number 40, take note of the expiry time [6:54pm] and head back to my desk. "6:54", I thought "perfect, since I'm leaving at 7pm, I'll just go out there at 6:50 and all will be good."

But no. I get out there at 6:50pm, punch in my code + locker number to open my locker, and it says "Oops! Your locker number or your code is incorrect or invalid!" Fantastic. So I try to put more money in, thinking maybe it would let me renew it or something, and it gives me the same message. Then I see the time in the top corner of the screen, and the time on the ruddy computer is 1.5 hours faster than normal time! Argh! Plus it says "if you locker time expires, your locker will be re-issued to a new customer". No! So I go and get the librarian + it takes ages to work out what to do to the annoying computerised machine, but 10 minutes later I retrieve Jason's bag. Hurrah. But at least it wasn't stolen or anything, it just created a very annoying situation.

After my fantastic 8-hour non-stop work-a-thon yesterday, I feel like I can't do any work today! So i'm going to just do a little bit, + then go shopping for the first time in ages! Hurrah!

Don't work too hard, people!

Thursday, April 25, 2002

A quality start to a quality Year 12 holiday

What a non-holiday. Of the first 9 days of my holiday, I have spent 4 of them at lectures at Sydney Uni for all of my HSC subjects. The other 5 days were filled with archery, abseiling, ropes courses, bushwalking, and 80 little kids - a very tiring way to do your residential project for gold Duke of Edinburgh.

But now, all that is over, and it's time to get down to the really fun part of this holiday: assignments, catchup work and note-making! Hurrah! Don't you just love Year 12. But at least there are only 2 more backbreaking terms to go!

Reading Max's webdiary has made me consider the changes that have occured with my friendships this year too. I suppose it's obvious but when the pressure builds up, as it certainly has been doing this year, it becomes disturbingly obvious where the cracks are in friendships - the friends who are just "fairweather friends" can be identified. And while I like and get on with the group for the most part, I don't know that we'll all stay friends after we stop seeing each other every day. Even now, people are just making symbolic efforts to do things together, purely for the "sake of the group". Which is better: a dysfunctional group where people do things because they think they should; or a bunch of good friends, where you know where you stand with everyone, even if that means knowing that you're not as close to some people as you are to others?

Max, I agree, I too am looking forward to Uni and to meeting some new people. That's certainly not to say that I want to forget about all my current friends, but I think after this year, we're all going to need some fresh faces in our lives, a fresh start, to a certain degree. I can't wait until the stress of this year is over and until I can leave the *lovely* PLC - I can't believe that I will have spent 13 years at this ridiculous school.

And since when is Year 12 the best year of school?!? There has been absolutely nothing good about it thus far: everyone is stressed, no-one has time to talk to/see anyone, friendships are put under pressure and they collapse. What is good about it?! Whoever said Year 12 was the best year of their life must have just been on some kind of high for an entire year, because there is no way in hell that I would ever consider this year to be up there with any other good year of school. I don't think that being able to make cups of coffee, or that having the grade come together to some small degree, or any of the other small-time privaleges that accompany Year 12 could ever be deemed worthy of all the shit that is Year 12. I for one am sick of waking up every morning thinking that everything is going to be ok, and then turning the corner to get a slap in the face or a punch in the stomach or finding another brick wall. [metaphorically speaking, of course]. I hate Year 12, and the only good thing about each day is that it's one more day that I can cross off my calendar with a big thick black texta, one more day that I never ever ever have to do again.

Well, now that I've got my "I hate Year 12" rant out of the way, I think I'll be off to bed; my head is sore from thinking too much today.

an excerpt from Raw Comedy [this was the winner]: Comedian: "So how many of you have a girlfriend?" Audience: no response Comedian: "That'd be right, 15,000 people, and not one guy will admit to committment"

Sunday, April 21, 2002

PYMBLE FANS IN THE STANDS, LET ME HEAR YOU CLAP YOUR HANDS!

My final Tildesley. *sigh* Another chapter closes. This year was a particularly fun year. I played well but didn’t get anywhere significant [coming up against an absolute gun of a player in the first round sucks, especially when you’re playing the best you’ve ever played but its still not good enough. Ah well – at least I know that I lost because my opposition was better than me.] Pymble improved our overall position to 4th from last year’s 7th – yay! [v. good achievement, considering that Tildesley is the one tournament where big schools are actually disadvantaged]. Roseville stopped Abbotsleigh from winning 2 years in a row – hurrah! Our Soph won the singles – go Soph! People were actually getting her autograph – was v. amusing – I’m not just talking about little enthusiastic Year 7’s, in fact, I’m pretty sure I saw Heidi lining up for one! Ascham won the Most Improved School award [finished 6th? 5th? Well done girls, esp to Heidi for making it through to the 4th round!] A Roseville pair won the doubles, and it’s really depressing because I trained with one of the girls in the pair for about 4 years, and we were the same standard. Then I stopped training, and she didn’t, and today she won Tildesley. Ah well. Still, I have decided this year that being an all-rounder really isn’t that great – I think that if I could do high school again, I would cut down the amount of stuff I did and just focus on a few things, really making sure I gave everything I did 100% effort, instead of just trying to fit everything in.

Speaking of fitting things in, I really think that people should buy tennis uniforms that fit them. Short skirts look good on some, but not others. Most people know their limit, and have their skirts at a level appropriate to them. So people, if you’re going to play tennis in front of a huge crowd, wear a skirt that covers your bum! Please! For your own sake, and for the sake of others!

One of my favourite things about Tildesley is that you often bump into random people you know from other schools, eg: Heidi and Annie, plus other people that you just see every year so you end up chatting to them anyway. Very good times.

Anyway, its been a great tournament, and it should be a good party tonight – nothing raging, just the team getting together one final time for what should be a yummy buffet dinner at Saltwater Seafood, Turramurra – quality restaurant.

Gee, 3 days of sitting in the sun watching tennis and cheering and doing absolutely no work while the rest of the grade is back at school doing assessments is really quite draining! I think I’ll go take a nap.

I’ll leave you with our favourite cheer of the tournament:

Pymble is re---d hot, Pymble is re---d hot, Pymble is r-e-d red h-o-t hot once we start we never stop cos ooh, we’ve got it, ooh ooh, we’ve got it!

Friday, April 5, 2002

Sweet, oh sweet 4 day weekend!

I apologise to all of you [ie: none of you] who have been hanging out for a new entry from me for over a week, but it's just been a very hectic time so I haven't had a chance to put fingers to keyboard until now.

So, you'd think that with everything happening right around now that I would have heaps to write about. The sad fact is that my situation is quite the opposite. I am fairly sure that no-one wants to hear me rant on about debating, chorale, Tildesley and schoolwork, and, quite frankly, I'm sick of thinking about it too, so all I really want to say about any of the above is this:

1) Debating - we kicked some Pittwater High butt in our first Commonwealth Bank Cup Debate - yea!

2) I feel like Easter has already been and gone - twice - thanks to 2 performances of "Eastertide" in conjunction with Knox, where we read all the relevant biblical passages and sang all the relevant Easter songs in 2 special Easter services

3) Tildesley [major girls tennis tournament, climax of the girls tennis season] is happening this coming Wednesday, Thursday and Friday - my 5th and last Tildesley *snif*. If anyone feels like making the trek out to Pennant Hills Park Tennis Complex to see us play, please do. Play starts at about 8am and goes through till 6pm.

4) Schoolwork - Extension English and Modern History are threatening to get out of control - I may need to run around screaming tomorrow for a couple of hours just to vent some stress.

Anyway, tonight was presenting itself to be yet another "stay-home-and-watch-the-crappy-friday-nite-movie-and-then-get-annoyed-at-the-disgusting-waste-of-time-which-doesn't-even-involve-getting-a-good-nite's-sleep" nite, so I decided to accompany my parents next door for what has become the semi-tradition of "Good Friday Seafood + many other delightful foods Feast". It was a thoroughly enjoyable night. The table was surrounded with quite a few old fogies [as our next door neighbour Christine always has these particular guests staying with her each Easter because they come up from Victoria to show their dogs at the Royal Easter Show, and they always do very well - today they won Best of Breed and Best Bitch, so the Best of Breed dog is going back on Monday to be judged for Best in Show] but there was also Christine's son Theo and his girlfriend Faye, who is hillarious. Basically, the whole evening was enjoyable, especially after we had consumed the delicious food and many a bottle of champagne, white and red. Mmmm. Everything gets funnier after everyone is just a tad squiffy, and there were some hillarious stories coming out, eg: Ester, who's about 55/60, was telling us about the time she went outside to scare away a possum in nothing but a pair of gumboots, and she really did scare it away! Or Faye telling "hideous flatmate" stories. v amusing.

Anyway, Day 1 of "Heavenly 4 Day Weekend" draws to a close, and it's time for this little girl to get some sleep so that she doesn't end up wasting the whole of Day 2 like she wasted Day 1 [especially since Day 3 has already been planned as a wasted day, since obviously cannot pass up AFL viewing opportunity].

Quote of the moment: Cami Thomas [yes, again] - "So, do you get cervical cancer by sunbaking with your legs open?" and also "What year are we in?" - ha! as if any of us could forget! Although clearly Cami can!

Friday, March 29, 2002

A race run is… is... one less thing to stress about!

There’s something about cross-country. Those who partake in the sport, especially those who take it mildy seriously [we’re not taking Sarah-McKeith-stress-till-I-explode seriousness, but serious enough to go to training every now and then], will know what I’m talking about. I suppose, really, anyone who does a sport where there’s a start and a finish and in between you’re on your own will know what I’m talking about. I have nightmares about the start of cross-country races. They are, in my opinion, the most violent and result-determining starts of any sporting event. In swimming or track athletics, if you have a bit of a bad start, its not so crucial – you’re in your own lane, you can push yourself harder to make up for it. In cross-country starts, people get trampled. People’s races are over before they’ve even begun. I’ve seen it happen: at the IGSSA cross-country, which is run at Frensham, the organisers always stupidly create a bottleneck only 100 metres after the start, and people go down and they don’t get back up until a pack of 150 girls have trampled all over them [this is why cross-country runners can’t wear spikes! Ouch!] and when they do get up they usually can’t keep running, or if they do, everyone has moved so far ahead and the leading pack has already begun to edge away so there’s no real chance of ever making up ground. That’s the thing with cross-country – the distances between competitors rarely become shorter; in fact, the gaps between each position usually just increase as the race goes on. You see very few people come from way behind to win a race, because the start is so crucial so that if you’re at the back at the start, you’re likely to stay there. So you can see why the starts are nightmare-material.

As you may have guessed, due to the cross-country focus of today’s entry, today we had our school cross-country championships. Anyway, I’ve rambled on about the sport, which few people care about or respect, enough, so I’ll just finish by saying that I was relatively happy with my performance and leave it at that.

Liv and I spent our free this afternoon moseying around the common room, drinking mocha combinations of delicious Chocolatte fudge and Moconna Indulgence, and perusing the various noticeboards: the yearbook noticeboard, the hall of shame, the Muck Up day Hit List noticeboard, the Formal noticeboard, quotes noticeboard, the “I’d like to see that!” noticeboard, the “I wish I’d never seen that!” noticeboard, the “Things I’ve learnt at PLC” notice board, etc etc. And as we laughed at all the various things the said noticeboards contained, we laughed along with the random assortment of people in the common room at the time. And we realised [sorry to keep starting sentences with “And”, but I’m trying to establish the flow-on-ness of these events] that, in a sense, our grade isn’t really as divided as we always think it to be. Every year group has said “When you get to Year 12, you’ll all come together and be more like one big group than all the little cliques that you are now”, and we always said “Pah! Our year, united!? You’ve got to be joking!”, and yet it is happening. Sure, there are still some dickheads who no-one gets along with and nobody really likes, but the general vibe is that you can just sit in the common room with your coffee and have a chat to whoever’s in there and just be people, not be groups. We’d better not tell the Nescafe people, or they’ll make a whole new gay ad series about Year 12 groups, with the slogan, “See! Nescafe really does bring people together!”

It’s bizarre but its fantastic, and it’s a really positive thing about Year 12. It made Liv and I realise today that there are so many random people in our year who are so amusing on a day-to-day basis, and that after this year its unlikely that we’ll ever see any of them again. Because a year group is always such a random cross-section of society, so you meet people who are both similar and totally dissimilar to you. Now, after this year, we’ll have no cause to ever be together as a group again [excepting reunions etc], and we’ll head off into the big wide world doing whatever we want to do, so it’s likely that we’ll meet people with similar interests, and we will have lost that connection with random people who are so totally unlike us. I think it’s those people I’ll miss the most at the end of this year. I know I’ll keep in close contact with all of my friends, but the majority of the grade will just slip away, and there’s a lot of kind, funny people in that bunch. This saddens me. But we’re going to have to go through it anyway, so there’s no point really dwelling on it. I think it’s just good to realise it now so that throughout the course of this year I can appreciate those random people who I’ll never see again once we leave school.

A slightly depressing thought, I know – I’m sorry. Still – who knows – I’m sure there’s a whole lot of even more random + funny people out there just waiting to be met, so it’s not all bad news. It’s just change. And as we know, change is… change is… change is everything! [see definition of change in last entry, para 2].

Well, it’s time to plough on with some exciting schoolwork on change – why do they have to make such a yukky yukky assessment worth 25%, I ask you??? Why why WHY?! Ah well, best to just get it over and done with. Every assessment done is one step closer to the HSC, and after the HSC we’re one step closer to uni, and when we’re at uni, we’re one step closer to working, and once we’re working, we’re one step closer to retiring, and once we’ve retired, we’re one step closer to death! Hooray! Obviously, [well, actually, not “obviously”, perhaps, “hopefully” would be more appropriate?] there’ll be some positive stuff in between? One would hope so, otherwise we’ll all have turned out to be pretty pathetic creatures.

Enjoy your afternoon, all – I know I won’t!

Word of the moment: “Gleesonerisation”. Definition – a process by which “erisation” is added to the end of any word to make it into a stupidly long noun, carried out mainly by Mrs Gleeson [hence the word], my geography teacher. Examples of this ridiculous process include: container – containerisation. [when Mrs G invented this word (which she still claims is a real word), and after Jess R and I pointed out the stupidity of it, the class launched into a “pay out Mrs Gleeson” session, where we “Gleesonerised” everything in the classroom for about 10 minutes, ie: "deskerisation", “penerisation”, “bookerisation”, “shiperisation” (referring to the diagram she had just drawn), “folderisation”, “diaryerisation”, and then I came up with the definitive term: “Gleesonerisation”. Ah, geography.]

Thursday, March 14, 2002

Distractions, if you please...

Watching Sex & the City last night, I found myself contemplating some of Carrie’s theories in terms of my own life [as well as trying to steal her style of writing and trying to form, in my mind, a wardrobe similar to hers on a miniscule budget. I failed, on both counts]. Do we really define our relationships with people by our relationships with other people? Is our best friend only our best friend because they happen to be the best of a particular people at a particular time? Do the definitions of our relationships change as we form new relationships with outsiders? If so, then are we going to have to keep defining and redefining all of our relationships, both existing and new, for the rest of our lives? My mother will always be my mother, my father will always be my father, my brother [unfortunately] will always be my brother. But as for everyone else, well, they could be here today, gone tomorrow, depending on who else is floating in and out of my life! Supposedly. To me, this all seems a little freaky – like we can never really know where we stand with anyone, because people and relationships, by nature, are dynamic [ie: always changing – sorry, it’s the geography word-of-the-year, and I have geography on the brain so I feel obliged to use it] and thus are never stable. So who can we really count on? Who can we trust to still be our friend tomorrow, when so many outside influences may force change? Ah, change, that annoying little area of study – you just can’t escape it – literally.

Today in english, we had this huge discussion where we attempted to pull together everything we’ve learnt about change, so we just ended up listing stuff underneath headings which all overlap, eg: all change is beneficial. Basically we made the following conclusion: even though the more some things change the more they stay the same, change in general is inevitable and we can’t control it [although we can control the degree to which it affects us], so we need to accept change even if it is difficult, because attempting to resist change has negative consequences, while change is always positive, because even if the consequences of change are uncomfortable, change builds character and opens the door [haha – stimulus booklet] to the limitless possibilities of change, and those who do not change are doomed to remain trapped in a certain state and have moss grow on them. Damn change, everything is inter-related!

If anyone would like to propose some answers to my questions in the first paragraph, or to tell me that I am no longer their friend because something has happened in their life which means that the redefining of our relationship has led to the abolishment of the term “friend”, please feel free to do so on my guestbook – I have cleared some old messages [sorry to those who had their entries deleted – it had to be done – there was no room for any new ones! Gee, I guess I just have too many friends *sigh*, for the meantime in any case!] so there’s some fresh space waiting to be filled right now now now now NOW!

So everybody: smile, and try not to refine current friends as “non-friends” – I think this year we’re going to need all the friends we have!

Ooh, that just reminded me, I had to mention the cuteness of our school chaplain, Rev Humphries. Last week, all Year 12 classes got a note on their tutor group rolls from the Rev, saying something along the lines of [as my form tutor read out] “Girls – Mr Humphries wants you to know that he’s here for you, if you ever need to talk about anything, anytime, his door is wide open, feel free to go and have a chat, he’d love to see you, especially if you’re a little down about anything in particular or you just need someone to talk to.” He is so cute. And for the Vocal section of PAC [Performing Arts Competition] last week, he sang “Come What May” from Moulin Rouge, and the whole concert hall was cheering and whistling – he is certainly loved!

PS – if anyone has an old grandma [must be 78 years of age or older – proof of identification will be necessary, hah] lurking around who happened to be in Nazi Germany in 1939 and would be willing to speak to me about what she thought about Hitler back then [not now], then I would greatly appreciate it if you would point your kindly grandma’s [or mothers… I don’t want to be judgmental or discriminatory] in my direction à I need some subjects to interview for my extension history project, especially after the disastrous Jewish Museum escapade [see below].

xox

Tuesday, March 12, 2002

The importance of planning, oh, the damn importance of planning...

Another day, and unproductiveness rears its ugly head once more. Sare and I made the trek out to Darlinghurst this morning in order to visit the Jewish Museum to interview some people there for our history extension projects. After battling with my inability to read street maps + Sare’s inability to follow instructions + the number of crappy “one-way-for-no-foreseeable-reason” streets in the east, we managed to locate the Museum [having done effectively 4 blocks around it, due to one way streets, no right turns, me, Sare, etc] and score a parking spot right out the front – the last one. “Hooray!”, we thought, “our luck is turning!” As we got out of Sare’s canary yellow Volkswagen Polo [affectionately referred to as Pikàchu, due to its colour similarity with the aforementioned Pokémon character], Sare uttered the fateful words: “Imagine if, after all this, the damn museum was closed! Hahaha”. I don’t really need to tell you what happened when we got to the front door, but I will anyway. The automatic doors didn’t open, there were no lights on, and there was a sign displaying the opening hours, all of which were on every day other than Saturday. We rang Sare’s mum and she was like “oh girls I’m so sorry, how could I have forgotten to tell you that the Jewish Sabbath is Saturday, not Sunday!”. In contrast, Nick M-J’s response to the situation was “AH hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha… dumb northies!” Comforting, no?

Anyway, so we decided: screw the school work, let’s go to Paddington and do coffee at Max Brenner’s Chocolate Shop [which is absolutely divine, anyone who has not experienced it must go now now now now NOW! Also at 1 other location: the “West End” part of Chatswood Chase, for all you *dumb* northies,] as well do some shopping on Oxford Street and at the unique Paddington Markets. End result: Sare bought a really nice bag + a hot red top; I scored a pair of sunnies + a really cute tee with a print that says “I didn’t fancy him anyway” over and over again, and we had some delicious beverages + desserts in the aforementioned divine Max Brenner’s.

So, we didn’t achieve anything we set out to do [except that Sare did keep her appointment with her transvestite interior designer, well, actually, no, it’s not a transvestite, it’s a he who’s now a she – what is the name for that? I went with Sare to look at wallpaper, and before we went in, Sare was telling me about this woman/man, and we were recalling the Seinfeld episode where Jerry goes out with the woman with “man hands” and he asks her to open all his jars and stuff, and so when we went into the shop, all we could think was “man hands, man hands”, and we couldn’t look at each other for fear of laughter ungraciously bursting out of our mouths. ANYway…], although, I did find the shopping + coffee extremely refreshing [and not just because of the caffeine and sugar hit in my skim mocha] so thanx, Sare, for a fun day out and about.

Last night, we all witnessed one of the most well-performed productions yet – Shore’s West Side Story bubbled with exuberance last night, and our very own Amy was a shining star in her role as Rosalia – the Puerto Rican girl with wit, humour and a love of her native country. The whole thing was fantastic: the other leads were mind bogglingly brilliant [with the exception, perhaps, of Tony, who had the misfortune to display a minor testy-pop when reaching around for the top note in Maria – most unfortunate. What is it about school productions of West Side Story where the girls are brilliant and the guys are nothing short of a disappointment? Both the Shore and the Grammar productions left the audience begging the question: was there really no-one better for the part of Tony? Are you seriously telling me that this is the best you’ve got? Then again, maybe its just really hard music. But if that was the case, why do guys schools continue to attempt to perform it?] and the simple stage, set with metal ramp as a swirling see-saw type thing, worked really well with providing levels for all the different scenes. Plus, the show had the added benefit of providing me with a perfect text to use for my advanced english assessment on my particular area of change! Woohoo!

Now, the show was great, but a musical night is never complete without an amusing trip to a nearby café for a post-mortem of all things related and unrelated. On arrival at our trusty North Sydney café [us northies treat it much as you Grammars would treat your trusty Bill & Tony’s] [and no, Nick + Jamie, it’s not that gay rip-off one you went to one time] we found that many of the chairs for the outside tables had already been stacked inside, and as the great big bunch of us walked in, the guys behind the coffee machine looked a little concerned. After we’d been standing there for a while, I said [in my sweetest manner possible] “Do you not want us to be here?”, while we all smiled and looked gorgeous. The guys looked at each other, and then one of them said something like “Well, its just that we’re sort of closing”, to which we replied “oh, but this is our regular post-Shore-musical café!”, continuing to look sweet. Then one said to the other, “Well, you did just turn away that whole group of guys…”, but then the other one said, “Ah, sure, you can come in, but do you mind sitting in this area?”, and we were like “Not at all! In fact, this is our usual area!”

So we all stayed for about an hour, drinking coffees, chocolates and cokes and laughing about various events of the evening, such as funny parts of the show [eg: when there was basically a soft porn scene with a half naked guy and girl dancing around the stage for no particular reason!], funny episodes behind the scenes, and the fact that girls can get virtually anything they want if they sweet talk and bat their eyelashes and smile. =) When Simon pointed this out and alluded to the unfair nature of such a system, I reminded him that, in the sexist society we live in [and believe me when I say that it is sexist – I’m not a feminist, but my readings of post-modernist feminist historiography (no, I don’t just read things like this for fun – it was for history extension) have opened my eyes to the sexism that does exist at the moment, and often, the more we try to overcome this sexism, the more deeply it is ingratiated into our society, and it is absolutely necessary to deconstruct the preconceived roles of men and women in our society and all of the traditional assumptions that accompany them before we can ever really progress instead of just attempting to provide band-aid solutions, which just hurt more when you rip them off, anyway, this is not the point] it is stupid to think that women aren’t going to take advantage of the few benefits and opportunities that come their way on such a small scale. Anyway, feminism aside, it was most enjoyable night – thanx all.

At this point, I would like to say a huge CONGRATULATIONS to Simon Ashley-Bunn, who found out yesterday that he has won the ADFA Scholarship for Civil Engineering! Well done Simone! [and yes, I meant to add that “e” ;) ] So at the end of this year, he’ll be running off in his camos and big black boots to become an army man – and we’ll ne-ver see him a-gain [Lucy + Liv – does that phrase bring back memories???] – well, ok, I suppose we MAAY see him again sometime, somewhere, somehow, but hey, the chances are slim to none. Chances are, the next time we’ll see Simon is if he gets killed in action and they show his picture on the news… – just kidding!

Meanwhile, if anyone happened to view my guest book recently and notice some messages about a party Alex may be having and is wondering why they haven’t received an invitation, as was promised on the site, and is thus getting worried that we do not love you – never fear! We may, in fact, really not love you [but it’s likely you would know, so you wouldn’t be worried] but the fact is that you haven’t been invited because no-one has been invited yet because the 30th of March is turning out to be an icky date for many a person, due to ungodly things such as assessments, all of which [for us PLC’s anyway] seem to be due around that date. I know I, for one, have maths, advanced english, extension english and geography assessments at the moment, plus an ongoing history extension assessment and upcoming assessments for chemistry and modern history. Heaven forbid the departments would spread our assessments out, oh no no, its surely much better for the HSC student’s performance to have to do them all at once, and then have a totally mindless period with no assessments at all, hurrah for the heads of departments for thinking of us and our potential to do well.

On top of everything else, the running of the school cross country takes place next week, right in the middle of a total stress time, when there is really no time to go to training, and yet one goes anyway, argh. Ah well, its all in the name of a balanced lifestyle.

By the way, anyone who is feeling stressed and tense: feel free to give me a call and experience the Bec meditation. Seriously. Amy was a most grateful recipient on Friday afternoon in maths [very amusing to conduct meditation in maths – Mrs Lee’s comments went something like this: “Now everyone listen, this is important, it’s about your assessment. Rebecca – stop meditating for a second, you have to hear this… Alright, you can go back to your state of relaxation now”] and she said the 10 minute program [which included interruptions from Mrs Lee as above, and anyone who has heard Mrs Lee’s voice will know that it alone is enough to give one the need for some meditation: she means well, and the stuff she tells us is all vitally important (except when she’s just gushing about Bill Pender or paying out Mr K-B, our head of maths, although it is amusing), its just that Mrs Lee really knows how to yell in such a way that it leaves an imprint on your eardrums that will never go away, which is probably fantastic in terms of remembering her little tips for exams.] really helped her to relax so that she was in the perfect performance state. There’s one happy client – you could be the next! I’ll even throw in a set of steak knives! [NB: steak knife set sold separately] But seriously, it really does work, so if anyone needs to relax, I’ll be here in my calm, cool, collected state.

This has turned into an absolutely mammoth entry, so I think I’ll finish it there. I suppose it was basically a week’s worth of thought compacted into 1 entry, which is probably what will happen each week, since I don’t really have the time or energy during the week to write a mildly interesting piece. So tune in next week [or possibly tomorrow, depending on how much I decide to procrastinate tomorrow] for another entry from the life of Bec.

“Until next time, pleease, take care of yourselves, aaaaand each other.”

Saturday, March 9, 2002

Work work work...

Stupid, stupid me. Once again, I have left all of my school work until Sunday afternoon [and yet, here I am, wasting time on the internet once again... strange how people never change, isn't it...], although this weekend, I was a little more sensible, in that I didn't go out [except to go over to Lucy's to chow down on some delicious Thai takeaway, (as my family was not providing me with any dinner last nite - thanx fam) and to start ploughing through King Lear, so that was productive] and that I used Saturday to sleep. So I was all set to make today my work day: I had my timetable, my list of things to accomplish, and my supply of water and chocolate. Unfortunately for me, my neighbours seem to have decided that today is "how much noise can I make with a hammer, a million nails, and a hundred weirdly shaped planks of wood??? oh, and for how long???". Tragic. So my fantastic day of work, which did actually start out quite well, has turned out like any other Sunday [ie: there has been very little work done at all]. Ah well, who am I to mess with the natural order of the world. Still, there are at least another 6 productive hours left in this day, so perhaps I should get off the internet and use them? *sigh*, yes, yes, back to work, crack that whip, back to the grindstone - don't forget, everyone --> Year 12 is the best year of our school lives! Yes, oh yes.

Sunday, March 3, 2002

Quick-fix solutions – where the hell did you go?!

Today, we had a sadly eye-opening experience. Fiona Roughly [aka the PLC girl who topped the state in English Extension 1] came to have a chat to us today, which was supposed to be helpful in terms of understanding exactly what sort of things are important to do well in Extenstion. Unfortunately, one of the major things you have to do is work, work, work. She did loads of research, millions of practise essays and basically, she managed to make us all cringe to think of the piles of work ahead of us. Well, we either cringed at that or at the knowledge that we are not exactly going to be topping the state in Extension English as we have no such motivation to do that much work. I find myself sadly falling into the latter category. It’s not that I don’t have a goal, because I do. Its just that I don’t think its exactly realistic, and if I can’t have it, then I don’t really care about what else I get. I mean, sure, it’d be great to get a UAI of 99.4 and get straight into law, but I don’t really think its possible, or if it is, it involves far too much work to be worthwhile. Kinda tragic, but that’s what my brain is saying. It’s like, when I sit on the couch in front of the TV, my mind says, “this show is a piece of shite, you should really get off your fat ass and go do some work”, but my brain says, “firstly – that would involve moving, and secondly – there’s really no point, just stay here and let me turn myself into mush” [“myself” being my brain]. So I do. Hence my brain is slowly turning to mush.

I don’t want to write practise essays, I don’t want to write endless notes for Modern and Geog, I don’t want to do a million and one maths questions on the same thing [and I don’t care how bloody brilliant Bill Pender is – I’m sick of hearing about how, if you do every question in Pender’s marvellous Cambridge Maths, you’ll get to the HSC and there won’t be a single question you haven’t seen (and you Grammar boys can all tell the fantabulous Bill that – I’m sick of stupid Cambridge)], and Chemistry, well, I don’t do any work for Chemistry and I don’t want to. These last 5 weeks, I have been quite organised [mostly] and I have been doing my homework [mostly] and handing in stuff on time [mostly]. But this week has marked a slippage into previous bad work habits [ie: not doing work]. I wish I was one of those people who can write myself timetables containing all the things I have to do and then follow them and systematically knock down all my tasks, but I am not. I am a procrastinator of the absolute worst kind. I put off work that has to be done until the last possible second, and work that doesn’t have to be done, well, you can guess what happens to that. Hence, I am really not a good candidate for this whole HSC thing of self-motivation and individual work. There are just a million and 1 things I prefer to do than schoolwork and I have no self-discipline, probably because my parents have always been such strict control freaks and I have subconsciously rebelled by having no control of my own. Well one thing’s for sure – I’m never going to tell any kids of mine to stop watching TV or talking on the phone, they can work it out themselves.

On a lighter and non-school related note, I would encourage everyone to take a look at the guestbook of my webpage [http://us.geocities.yahoo.com/gb/view?member=bec_weeks] and have a laugh at Amy and the fact that she paid herself out on the internet so she could post a comeback message. Don’t worry Amy, I’m sure the REAL payouts will now be rolling in! Haha =)

Take care, and y’all come back now! xox

Friday, March 1, 2002

less = more???

Another day, another round of classes and thinking and extra-curricular activities. Why why why?!

I find myself constantly questioning the methods I should be using to carry out my Year 12 schoolwork. On the one hand, the teachers all say that you only get out what you put in, you have to be dedicated, you need to plan ahead, and that leaving things to the last minute never works. Yet they, in turn, continuously contradict themselves by giving me quite reasonable marks for work which was not planned, which was left to the last minute [in fact, was usually left until after the last minute, ie: late]. In contrast, when, last year, I did make an effort to start things beforehand and not just write essays in a non-stop 1 hour sitting, my marks were significantly lower. Combine this result with the result of not trying, and you get an interesting hypothesis: that the less time you put into your schoolwork, the better your marks will be. Of course, I’m not suggesting that everyone should just stop working for the HSC, I’m merely putting it out there as an interesting idea. And I’m not the only one to have noticed this – Amy has experienced similar deviations in marks with the said amounts of effort. But Amy and I are the only people who put in fluctuating amounts of effort and experience inversely fluctuating marks – everyone else tries all the time and get consistent marks. I try to try all the time, but sometimes I just don’t care, or there’s something more interesting to do, etc etc.

Another thing I’ve noticed is that my brain is incapable of dealing with due dates. No matter how often I remind myself of when something is due, my brain just will not allow me to start working on until either midnight the night before its due, or the night after it was due. This could become problematic as the assessments start to roll out. Em has found her brain has the same malfunction, and she suggested that we might just have to write the due dates in our diaries 1 day earlier than they are actually due, in the hope of tricking our brains into letting us hand some work in on time. [last year in advanced English, I don’t think Em and I handed in a piece of work on time between us, assessments excluded]. But why should we have to trick our brains into doing work?! Don’t our brains want us to do well in the HSC? There is clearly some bizarre “brain vs the rest” war going on in our bodies.

Meanwhile, on Tuesday, I think I used my brain more in 1 single day than I have for my entire life! We had our all-day debating competition at Macquarie Uni, which involved us having 3 debates, each with a 20 minute prep. Now, usually, we have a 1 hour prep and we’re still pushing it for time, so this was just insane. Yes, we did know the topics beforehand but we didn’t know which side we were on so we hadn’t really been bothered to do anything related to them [except for Zelie, who had researched some handy facts on genetic engineering and Australia’s *domestic* policy (or what we thought was Australia’s domestic policy…haha) – thanx Zel]. We lost our 1st debate by 1 point, but got it together for the next two, wiping the floor with PLC Sydney and Bankstown Grammar. And it just goes to show that the whole “it was a really close debate” thing that adjudicators often say after debates is often a load of garbage. We debated Bankstown in the last round, and the adjudicators don’t tell the teams the results because the organisers don’t want people trying to work out who is in the finals – so they keep it a secret until they’ve added all the scores [each speaker gets a score out of 100 for each debate, team total out of 300, at the end they add the 3 totals and the 2 teams with the highest totals are the finalists] and announced the finalists [who were Tara and PLC Sydney]. Anyway, we went up to our adjudicator afterwards and before I could even finish my sentence asking “How did we go”, he cut in with “You won”, and Sare said that when she asked him, later, who had won, he just said “do I even need to tell you???” and she was like “well, maybe, I mean, you said it was really close!” and he said “close – pah, of course you won, wasn’t it obvious?!”. So that was amusing.

Meanwhile, this weekend I have decided that I am having a closed weekend, so don’t organise something good that will force me to change my plans! I decided this after I came home yesterday, decided to have a “little lie down” at about 7, and woke up this morning just in time for Tildesley tennis training. Not good. So this Saturday nite, I plan to be tucked in my bed by 8:30, storing up some precious zzzz’s for the busy weeks to come – there’s way too much going on at the moment to allow for tiredness.

quote of the moment: Cami Thomas – [reading people’s name tags at the icebreaker] “Jessica, Rebecca, Elizabeth, Katherine – wow, Katherine is my middle name! Camilla Elizabeth… oh, whoops, its my sister’s middle name, duh, I’m such a bimbo!” Yes you are, Cami, yes you are, heh. [Cami has a total of 8 quotes on the stupid quotes board in the common room, and we’re only up to week 5!]

Wednesday, February 27, 2002

The sun shone, and the rain rained, and the wind blew, and the trees grew and grew!

Ah, the memories. That line above was Alex Skilton's line as narrator in one of our Prep school concerts. If memory serves me correctly, I was a gypsy girl. Or was that the year I was a scarecrow? or Pinocchio without his strings??? They've all blended in to one very bizarre memory of random songs, random costumes, and ladies with jangly jewellery who gave us jellybeans when we were "nice and quiet" when sitting in the line. And what was with them reusing the cracker costumes every single year, and moudling..