Alphabet Soup.

G'day,

Ironically, this has nothing to do with alphabet soup. So, I have just joined myspace... interesting site, that. I'm extremely glad for my knowledge (however limited) of HTML. But my life is boring, well... except for literature class, media, all the social dramas (argh), and any conversation/time spent with my boyfriend. So enough of my life, and onto...

PERSONALITIES

Your upbringing, life experiences and... some other deeply buried element (which I personally believe to be your soul) define your personality. It is because of the 'life experiences' factor that personalities change. If your memory was erased, would you still be the same person as before? Would the impact that your past actions had on the world be enough to force you back into your original personality as they are reflected back at you? Would you have a clean slate? No more guard? No facades? No psychological issues stemming from prior trauma?

I suppose you can give me the answer to this if I ever lose my memory... of course, you'd have to tell me WHY you were giving me this information... and I wonder, would explaining this push me back into my original personality, even if I was out of it in the first place? There is one thing in this situation that I am in no doubt of; memory or no memory, I'd still love my boyfriend, very much so.

Now that I've a lot of random, irrelevant bullshit, I leave you.

--Ciao! *disappears in a cloud of purple smoke*

Mi Amore

Alright, so I am more or less the luckiest female on the planet. Why? My boyfriend, Scott. (Mine :P). To summarise; he's intelligent, artistic (Holy Ass-Balls, you should see his drawings), musically talented (Multiple instruments, anyone?!), hilarious, witty, observant, sweet as fuck, handsome, and in general, wicked insane! (My equivilant to utterly, completely, and totally awesome).


Scott, tu e` mi amore. Ti amo moltissimo!

Yeah, his blog is by far the most amusing I've ever read. His mind is just that brilliant.
http://gotta-ramble-on.blogspot.com


... Can you tell he's a Zeppelin fan? Yeah... a credit to his superb taste in music.


Love you Scott,

The rest of humanity? Eh... you have your upsides...

Thought Think Thunk Thenk

For some obscure reason, my obscure mind has been locked on the obscure thought of... thoughts. Obsure, eh? :P


Think about it; when you're thinking to yourself, is the voice (of your consciousness, ignore all the other voices) in your head the same voice with which you speak aloud? Not really... Not for me at least... But then again, do you hear your own thoughts? Technically, no, because they are not 'heard' (term used very loosely) through soundwaves... Although, it certainly seems like you are 'hearing' your conscious thoughts, they seem to have sound... all this is probably not making much sense... sorry. It's just, when you are thinking, you can 'hear' your conscious thoughts as words in your head, correct? This is the 'voice' I will be referencing throughout this post.

As you think, you 'hear' the voice in your head... but how are you 'hearing' the voice if it is not being 'heard' in the conventional way? What way is it being heard?


ARRRRRRGH!!!!

Sorry.. this post probably made no sense whatsoever... I blame it on my mind for being so... weird...

I also blame it on my boyfriend for scrambling my mind further.

Sorry, Scott. :P

Ciao to the rest of you.

A Totally Pointless Rant About Moments

So once again I find myself sprawled across my bed on my laptop typing into a blog. Today the thing that's on my mind seems to be...

moments.

Now, I don't say moments in a dramatic, girly, cheaply-made soap-opera sense. Au contraire! I say 'moments' in a poetic sense. I have many aspects to my personality, I can tell you that now. That said, I can safely state that despite this fact, essentially, I am the poet. To my very core. I think like a poet, even when I'm not composing poetry. I see life not in years, months, weeks, days, hours, minutes or seconds, but in moments. Time is a relative thing, depending on our mood and environments, seconds become hours, years; minutes... time dilates and contracts depending on certain elements. Moments, however, need no measure. They are simply those sections in life, no matter how great or small, which stand out above the rest, forever holding a place in one's memory. It is often the simplest of these moments that strike the deepest chords, that are preserved most strongly in memory. Such is the case for me, at least. I won't say that moments are snippets of life which are 'perfect', as not only is 'perfect' a laughable impossibility, but some moments are horrible. Moments of sheer, undiluted, bloodcurdling terror (whether that terror stems from being chased by a fat guy with a rifle or pissing your pants in front of your class at show-and-tell when you're six is irrelevant). Moments of complete panic, of total excitement, of utter exhiliration, of contentedment... no matter which way you cut it, it's these moments in life that count, even if they do haunt your nightmares (like that poor, poor six year old).

--Sarah out.

This Is A Post

Now normally it is at this point I say something at least moderately astute or verbose... However, thanks to my boyfriend being an extremely sweet creature, my mind is still trying to form coherent setences while simultaneously mentally kicking me for grinning like an idiot. So, now that I've made public the fact that despite being a callous bitch I'm actually quite the romatic, I'm going to stop this incessant rambling and move onto a topic that isn't quite so convoluted in sentence structure...

Uh... Um... DAMNIT! I can't think of anything... Gimme a minute...

...

...

...

...

Books!

Alright, so I am Blogspot's resident Word Nerd. I'm also an avid reader. I find myself constantly immersed within the pages of a book, to the point that the only times I don't trip over when walking at school is when my nose is in a book. I read everything from fantasy, to sci-fi, to horror/thriller, to crimefiction, to autobiography, to classics. Reading is excellent, people. Expand your vocabulary, stimulate your imagination, GO ON AN ADVENTURE!

I dare you.

Fallen

Okay, this post is going to show you EXACTLY how my mind works when I write poetry... below I have quite literally typed out my every thought as I created the poem. I hope you find this interesting or insightful. Let me know what you think of the poem.



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#Have you ever, Ever felt like this? Where strange things happen, Are you going 'round the twist?#


Not only was it an awesome show when I was younger, but it's a tune that's echoing around my mind at the moment...



Do you ever wonder... ever think... ever dream... Do you ever ask yourself the questions that swirl through your mind in the final seconds before you lapse into sleep for the night?







Do you laugh and do you cry?
Do you know the reason why?
Do you rise and do you fall?
Do you mourn for one and all?
Do tears tumble down your cheeks,
Like salty, morose, crystal creeks?
Does your smile, light your face,
Did you fall from your grace?




Do you breathe your joys and fears,
Soft against comp'ny's ears?
Did you stand so tall and bright,
'Till you fell into the night?
Do you mourn for what once was,
The place you were, so high above?
Were you once, glorious and pure,
Now the cancer, once the cure?




Do you see your own reflection,
Gazing back, to leave you sickened?
Do you see all that you were,
All the beauty, all the allure?
Do you see what you've become,
The filthy, foul, feral no-one?
Does you stomach churn to see,
That in the end, you're just like me?










Fallen... Fallen Angel...Fallen... Fallen.

Title--Fallen

Family Matters.

Every day I wake up to my two younger brothers yelling, running around and playing the playstation. My parents are already at work, there's housework to be done and no one but me is going to do it. This is what the school holidays mean to me. Sometimes I go into work, only to discover that I, a fifteen year old girl (who is desperately awaiting her 16th birthday in November-- HELLO, Learner's permit!), am the most experienced waitress and have to fix all the problems that have arisen since I last worked, and train the new girl (who will turn out to be incompetent and barely able to speak english...). There is a point beyond me complaining to this, I swear. I'm getting to it, so please be patient with me.

Like any human being would, I wish to socialise with my friends over the school holidays. I personally believe that this is reasonable of me. My parents, due to the amount of work they have to do, cannot drive me places and as a result I am home-bound. I am not allowed to take public transport (and even if I was, there is no bus service near me). It is in my nature to be independant, and so I hate that I have to rely on my parents for transport. My main issue is, that while they expect me to be 'responsible' and maintain the house while they're at work, my parents are pretty damn strict. I am more or less a prisoner in my own home at the moment, not to be dramatic, of course. This brings me to the point of today's post...

PARENTING.

I am a member of generation-Y2 (the generation after the one that everyone is complaining about, and at the end of the day, Y2 is sadly similar to Y). Parents all raise their children differently. I am the eldest of three children, and my parents were pretty damn hard on me as a child. Because of this, I have become a respectful, dilligent, albeit deviant adolescent. My two younger brothers (the youngest in particular) are a different story. My own mother will admit to you that she was far stricter on me than she was my siblings, and that she still is. I personally believe that the disciplin with which I was raised is a good thing. I am generally well-behaved, respectful, hard-working and well mannered. That has in no way suppressed my personality. I'm still stubborn, argumentative, weird, and a little dark and deviant. I don't see the way I was raised as 'bad' in any way. In fact, I'm glad that my parents raised me the way they did... I just wish that they would allow me, as I am now, responsible, well behaved, to have a little more freedom. I am, as I have previously mentioned, a very independant person. I need space, I need isolation to an extent, and I need my freedom. I need to feel as if I am in control of my own life and my own actions, otherwise I start to feel out-of-control, suffocated, claustrophobic... this is just who I am. Now, my parents do not like the idea of giving me this freedom, not because they want to oppress me, but because they want me to be their 'little girl' forever, although they're already painfully aware of the fact that I'm already 'all grown up'. I may still have a few more years of adolescence ahead of me, but I've always been quite mature for my age (I say this not to be egotistical, but as a simple fact). My mother always said I was "3 going on 30". All I am asking, is why I cannot be allowed to grow up... I'm not the type of person who is going to get out, get drunk and get laid. I do not need alcohol to have a good time, I have enough silliness and random fun in me as it is (when I'm in my element). All I want to do is go spend time with my friends, go shopping with my best friend, see a movie with my boyfriend, go to get-togethers among my friends and I... it's all rather harmless. My idea of a party involves lollies, soft drink, table tennis, a swimming pool and my mates. I don't know what people find appealing about booze and bongs. My parents know this, so I fail to see why I am so trapped at home.

Sorry, in the end this did turn out to be a bitch session... I wasn't planning on it and I apologise.

Aspirin

Okay, so I decided to research aspirin today because I was curious as to how it worked. I've already researched THE HELL out of paracetemol and ibuprofen, so I decided it was time to give aspirin a go....




...it's not to pleasant...

That said, nor is any painkiller. They all come with risk. Which leads me to the topic of risk.






There are those in the world who regard themselves risk-takers. They do things which they (and the rest of their society) believe are dangerous, and thus, risky. However, I ask you to question the meaning of the word 'risk'. The dictionary (or at least the Encarter dictionary on my laptop) defines risk as the "statistical odds of danger: the statistical chance of danger from something, especially from the failure of an engineered system". Note the use of the word 'danger'. It is another word that we ought to more clearly define, as one person's definition of danger may differ to that of another. A professional rock-climber may not see scaling Everest as dangerous, while the accountant most certainly will. That may be a bad analogy, but you get my point.

Words are complex things. Their denotative and connotative meanings change and adapt over time. A single word may have multiple synonyms, all which have a slightly different attitude, tone or meaning, and all of which fit a particular situation perfectly. Words are delicate things, and when used properly can be incredibly beautiful indeed. Take poetry, and any song that wasn't written by a rapper or a cocain-addicted-two-dollar-hooker. I am a self-confessed word nerd, I am a poet, a lyricist, a budding author... Words are my domain... they are my art and my expression.


Now, since it's 3:00am, I believe I ought to get some sleep before I must endure another day of intense boredom. At the very least this post provided some insight into the workings of my mind... How I start on a topic like aspirin and wind up on the topic of language... Of course, if I had more time I'd return to the topic of aspirin and actually get to the point I was planning on making, but that is not the case.
Until a more decent hour today,
Ciao.

Technology

Have you noticed that no matter how much you know about computers, there always seems to be some problem you can't fix? That even if you designed the mobile, there'll be a glitch you just can't solve? You purchase a moblie on a 3G network which promises to provide phone reception ANYWHERE, even in rural areas. Then take it to you SEMI-RURAL home only to discover that the only way you can send a message is by frantically running around your house screaming cusses in an attempt to attain ONE BAR of reception! As you may have guessed, this is an issue I have. Another issue I have is that despite knowing a hell of a lot about computers (not through crappy 'using computers' courses at school. Sorry, Ms Dekker, you didn't teach us a bloody thing. I learnt everything from my dad), I can't seem to avoid barrages of computer problems. Thankfully, after three hours of yelling euphemisms for the word 'fuck' so that my parents don't yell at me for swearing, I usually fix the problems. The fact remains that the problems are there. At work, the eftpos will stop working until someone hits is with a carafe. Naturally, I believe that our problems would be solved if we hit the great majority of the STAFF with a carafe... maybe it would knock some sense into them... but then again, I think half their problem is that they've been kicked in the head one too many times by the inbred horses they ride. Sorry, I digress.. back to the crux of this rant...

TECHNOLOGY.

I think the problem with technology is that it has progressed to the point where we fallible humans are the only things holding it back. As soon as someone is dumb enough to give cash registers artificial intelligence- and a sentient intelligence at that- we're all doomed. Do panic, because I assure you, there are people out there dumb enough to do such a thing... the only problem is that they're also brilliant enough to know how. This is another problem of modern society (and yet another nonsensical digression); common sense is a rarity. To quote my boyfriend (who I think stole it from something a relief teacher once said, who stole it from a eulogy in an English newspaper) "Common sense just isn't common any more". As a result we have brilliant, brillant people doing really dumb things. Another issue directly linking to the endangered nature of common sense is idiots with power. Take for instance George Bush (Obama, thank heavens you took his place). I'm an Australian, but that doesn't mean I'm exempt from the consequences of American politics. Speaking of Australia and politics... another idiot who had power- John Howard. All I can say is that I sincerely hope Obama and Rudd do their respective countries some good.






I'm fully aware that this post was rambling, meandering and whiney... I started off talking about technology, but continual digressions led me to politics... Hopefully I at the very least entertained you in the process. That is, if you could understand my convoluted, rambling sentence structure...

Pastafarianism.

"In the begining there was a word, and the word was 'Argh!'."
-Piraticus.

For those of you who have no idea what the HELL ASS I'm on about... Read the Gospel Of The Flying Spaghetti Monster. Whether you're christian, islamic, jewish, pagan, an aethiest or a scientologist, the Gospel will open your eyes to JUST HOW STUPID IT IS TO FIGHT OVER RELIGION!

The thing about the Gospel is that the arguments, as ludicrous and plainly fictional as they are, are watertight! There's no way that you can (in an intellectual debate) dispute the arguments made! It's sheer, undiluted brilliance mixed in with a little sillyness! On top of this, Pastafarianism is made to sound so very appealing! It makes you WANT to become one! I am a scientist at heart, though I do have a very deeply rooted spiritual side. I'm not religious but I hold faith in particular aspects of the supernatural. I do not believe there is a higher power, only our higher selves... that said... I WANT TO BE A PASTAFARIAN!


Here's the run down. The Gospel CONCLUSIVELY proves that humans descended from pirates. Pastafarian heaven includes a beer-volcano and a stripper factory. There is no God, just the Flying Spaghetti Monster. Gravity? YEAH RIGHT! CLEARLY we're all being held to the earth by the Flying Spaghetti Monster's Noodly Appendages (that FSM just LOVES touching us). Tailbones as tails that shortened over Evolutionary Time? AS IF! OBVIOUSLY they're weapons from our pirating days!


That is just a taste of the ludicrous, hilarious awesomeness that is The Gospel Of The Flying Spaghetti Monster. It makes a VERY important point--


WHY FIGHT OVER SOMETHING AS PETTY AS RELIGIOUS BELIEFS?

To quote Atreyu in the song "Can't Happen Here"; "Does your god know my god? This is how the world will end."

I AM NO LONGER AN ANGSTOSAURUS!

Okay, people.

I noticed (ever since I met my boyfriend and stopped being so morose) that my posts are awfully depressed and angsty, not to mention violent. Oh, the enlightenment of being happy! Lol. So basically, I'm informing you that the miserable, angsty person that I once was has more or less died... Which means that you get to read the slightly more interesting side to me: MY BRAIN! MWAHAHAHA! Now you will get to read my abstract ponderings, philosophising, thoughts, rants about politics, etc. You might even hear a bit o' humour! Yes, I have that side to me!


So to launch my happy-Sarah faze, we have this...













A ramble about Questionable Content.

QC is a webcomic (yes, I am JUST THAT geeky!). If you're into intellectual, witty, music-related and dirty humour.... I reccommend it! The characters are mostly young indie girls, two guys, and their 'Coffee Of Doom'. I find it quite amusing. I liken myself to Penelope. The defensive, weird, ranting book nerd!!!!

You can read QC at www.questionablecontent.net


Happy reading!

Questions.

Hello again.

Happy easter to all.
In a philosophical mood... so I'm asking the question 'why?' a lot.
There's a reason children ask 'why?' so often...
They have not yet been reprogrammed by society to bite their tongues, so they allow themselves to act on their curiosity.

Why are we here?
Why do we put faith in something we have no proof of?
Why do we celebrate easter and christmas even if we aren't religious?
Why is the universe expanding?
Why can't I live forever?




Then an equally good question... 'how?'

How is the universe expanding if it's infinite?
How did we come up with the first form of communication?
How did the universe come to be?
How can life be all there is?
How can there be more?



Well, I'd better shut up before I spiral into a quantum void of questions.
Ciao!