Oh god I feel like death.
Why do I feel like death? It has something to do with the fact that I was up all last night puking my guts out. And for no definable reason, either. I think, after all this time, I have started to aquire some of Jerry's characteristics. He pukes all the time. For no reason. Whereas if I puke, then usually there is something seriously wrong - like vodka.
So anyway, that seedy chinese food from Oxford St obviously didn't agree with my system. But on the positive side, my stomach muscles are ripped! It's like I've done a weeks worth of sittups in one go.

Actually, I don't care about my stomach muscles.

Well I'm exited about moving out this year! I've been looking around my room wondering what I need to take with me. Luckilly, there isn't nearly as much country-kitch bullshit as I thought there would be (Mum has a thing for country-themed folk art, and its everywhere in the house - it drives me crazy). Because I would be so fucking ticked off if I had to move into a fully sick pad and be a lazy, self-riteous uni student with loads of breadboards, milkcans and wallhangings with silly little chickens and cows on them sporting badly spelt mottos such as 'home is where the heart is." Imagine trying to put up posters of cool bands and announcing ober house parties with a wooden sign in shape of a bedraggled rag-doll on the wall saying "raising teenagers is like being pecked to death by ducks." Oh my how fork-tounged middle-aged women are these days! Between artfully avoiding their overweight, ugly husbands to have a cup of coffee, having to tell their naturally thick-headed teenage boys to shut the fridge door and serving some sort of oven-ready birdseye meal at dinner time, where DO they find the time to come up with such witty social observations? And, further more, paint them in charmingly nieve and wobbly letters on a piece of apropriately shaped wood?

Anyway. Tafe tomorrow. Don't feel like it. Have to go. New key card has taken two weeks now to arrive. Hopefully I will have enough petrol to get to tafe and back.


-Amy

mood: sleepy

I have decidided to do a daily self portrait in various mediums....it was an idea given to me by one of the teachers at tafe. So lets see how long I could be bothered keeping this up. They can range from complex with lots of effort, to nothing but a crappy stick figure with my name written underneath in a crude scrawl.
I will post them every day...except on weekends...And yes, most of them will look absolutely nothing like me.

I told my drawing teacher about the Happiness Handbook, and he said that the only self-help book he would ever trust is one where the first page is wet with the authour's own tears and the rest is just blank, occaisionally broken up by bite marks, childish drawings of robots, and smudges where the author has smacked his face on the page.

anyhow. I can't say much more. Except that my wall space in the painting shed has a sign on it saying 'Monkey Trauma Centre'. That phrase seems to follow me around.
Also, in the library in sydney uni there is some grafitti on the wall which says 'Amy likes dick', apparantly put there by Jerry.
I will have to figure out an apporopriate place to plant a large banner saying 'Jerry 4 Men'.

-amy

mood: busy

Started reading 'the happieness handbook' yesturday. Must say, a little dissapointed. I'm not used to self-help books I guess.
I have resolved, though, to be less anxious. Being less anxious means not having minor panic attacks before every party or outing that I have to go to, not embarassing myself by being upset all the time for no definable reason, and not reading into absolutely everything. I'm sure that it all can't be as bad as I think it is. Plus, being less anxious means that Jerry is less anxious and therefore he is nicer to be around at parties, thus giving me no reason to feel twice as anxious...
But how to go about achieveing this? I can't exactly draw a face on my hand and give myself high-pitched pep-talks every time I start to feel upset.I have a few strategies - although most of these strategies involve becoming an alcholic.

Anyway, that's my goal.
I have also got to stop giving people the impression that I am a snob. If you want to warm yourself by a barrel fire and share your cold can of baked beans with a flea-ridden dog while handing out poorly photocopied socialist magazines to passers by - that's fine and dandy by me, and I may even join you.

I don't know where that came from. My absolute last sarcastic and slightly angry comment, I swear. Maybe not. But I'm trying my best, anyway. Serenity now!
I didn't go to tafe today. I took some herbal sleeping pills of some description last night so that I could get a decent night's sleep for once, and they worked so well that I couldn't wake up at all this morning. I could have gone in for the afternoon class, but to tell you the truth I was too afraid of the glare I would get from Gebus for turning up late.

serenitynowserenitynowserenitynow...

I bought a thermos on the weekend that I can fit in my bag and its the coolest thing I own to date! The technology of it all baffles me. I'm like a cave man confronted with a gameboy. I keep playing with it and filling it with tea and being deadset amazed when it's still hot two hours later. I'm going to use it to drink green tea at tafe.

And oh my god I forgot about Mardi Gras. Mainly because I didn't go, because last time I almost got crushed to death in amoungst some particularly hefty bears (or was that just Jerry?).




-Amy

mood: serenity now

well, I went to the shops. gotta mea some cola. Now, I feel that it's inevitable that I'm going to sit around waiting for 'Bewitched' to come on. You don't know how incredibly good that show is until you actually watch it. Then all of a sudden you've got posters of Samantha on the inside of your wardrobe door and an Uncle Arthur action figure in a shoebox under your bed.


-amy

mood: magical

oh jeezuz. When you got a whole day to yourself at home, with no uni/tafe, no errands to run and no work that you will ever really feel like doing - what would you do?


so. incredibly. bored.


oh dude. does the guy next door really have to drive around in a tractor. hello, hobby farm. you have less than three acres, some pet cows and a speed boat. Stop trying to pretend that you're living the simple life.

I wish I could just drive into paddington now and eat cheeze naan until I feel like I can see through time, and irritate Jerry in his sleep by putting things in his ears or drawing on him.
Actually, maybe I should just make myself some coffee and then try and make some sort of lunch. I don't even have a book to read anymore. I could read the new Dick Francis maybe. And then drive to the shops to buy cola.


someone please tell me what THEY would do?

and oh. apparantly I am getting a lap-top for my birthday. woohoo!

-Amy

mood: non-productive

For some reason today, I am angry. I'm almost as angry as I was last Friday when I realised that the reason it took me three hours to get across the Harbour bridge and into Paddington was all because of Dick Chaney. Fucking retard had almost all of the roads closed down just so he could have an uninterupted drive into sydney.
Anyway. Perhaps I'm angry because I keep seeing some girl from my old school around at TAFE. Every Wednesday without fail, there's Daggy Ellie's optimistic face beaming down at me, as patronising as she has always been. eh, it's just sort of anoying. I'd rather not have any connections with school anymore.

Let me say this of people my age in general; there's nothing more pathetic to me than someone who hasn't changed since year nine, and who still talks about petty high-school social situations like it happened yesturday, and treats everything in life like it's somehow a similar situation as thier year 10 english class. Grow up, move on and get a life like everyone else. Perhaps some folks know who I am reffering to here?
I dunno. If I wanted the oppinion of someone with the social charm, wit and values of a hormonal, pre-teen girl with budding breasts- I'd have a conversation with my 12 year old sister, or Michael Moore.


bang.


-amy

mood: tasty, wokky, freshy, bitchy

God I hate organising things. especially weekend things. Apparantly Sydney Uni has got some sort of free concert on friday - which I still partially doubt that I would be allowed to go to if they found out I wasn't a student. Or something. Probably if they knew I went to Nepean TAFE they would push me in the mud aswell. Ah, exagerated conflict. Truth is Sydney Uni seems to have swung so high on the nobby-swing that they've swung right around the bar and reached a state of nobby indifference or, far more likely, ignorance. The sort of people who think Sydney ends at Newtown station. Beyond that - fields of moulten lava, also known as the Hills District. Take them five minutes out of the CBD and they'd die of exposure and be (miraculously) eaten by wolves.
So, truthfully, if they really did find out that I go to TAFE in Penrith, they'd be far more likely to cock thier heads, stroke thier beards and say "Is...is that near Mordor?" Or perhaps even shudder in thier sketcher shoes at the rememberance of mysterious legends told to them by thier wizened grandparents when they were wee chilluns, in order to make them frightened of such evils as RSLs, private swimming pools and Steven Pringle.

I must say, today was hella lame.
We had painting all day long - which is fine, except that we all got yelled at because apparantly we only have four weeks of term left in which to complete a minimum of three paintings which are supposed to relate to our year-long 'theme'. My theme is fish, and Shadi, our odd little egyptian instructor, said I should paint on ply wood and cut it with a jigsaw into the shape of ..well..some fish. First of all I had to explain that I couldn't afford the ply wood on this particular day. To which I was accused of being 'rich', because of my 'fancy boots' and blue hair extentions (this is apparantly some kind of a mark of extreme wealth and oppulance in remote, backwards countries like Egypt). I argued my poverty for the next 15 minutes, until I was eventually given a spare piece of ply wood that had been lying around the painting shed. I then had to draw the design on and cut it out with the dreaded jigsaw. It took all afternoon and the sheer effort of holding a loud, vibrating object for THAT LONG made me feel like going into hibernation early. And to top it off right at the end when I had finnished Shadi inquired as to why I hadn't just got 'the unic' to do it for me, the same one that fans me with a palm frond and feeds me seedless grapes. This is bullshit. I'm going to have to only turn up to class dressed in rags (or better yet, in my very stylish barrel-with-a-strap).
Anyway. It turns out that there really IS a unic that cuts wood for students, so I don't have to do it next time. So in conclusion, suck on that, Sydney University. You may have truckloads of nobby middle-class students, but TAFE has unics.


-Amy

mood: hungry

Sigh. I know I haven't updated in months...but I fully intend to become a regular updaterer once again!
So. news. I did indeed apply and enrol for Meadowbank College of TAFE, and I even attended the very first day. However, it also turned out to be my last day. I had applied at Meadowbank hoping for a change and perhaps an alternative to the dead-eyed suburbanites that made up my fellow pupils last year, and, as all of Jerrys friends (including Jerry) are going to the grand jizz jar that is Sydney Uni this year, I thought to enrol myself at a much nobbier and city-central college. This was not a sucess. The place was indeed nobbier, and more like a REAL uni, with paper work, asociations, banners and satchel bags a-plenty - Unlike Nepean where getting your timetable for the year consisted of a letter in the mail reading "Ring Shadi Seliem on 043254536" and the student association is nothing but a group of lonely mature-age students (bored and painfully middle-aged women) who believe in $1.50 photocopies and the occaisional 'association meeting' at Penrith RSL.
However when I arrived at Meadowbank equiped with a timetable that took me 4 hours to obtain at enrolment, and saw the campus gym, campus art shop and student information office....I thought, 'But where is the LOVE?' I realised all in that one moment that doing fine arts isn't about gyms, fancy campus art galleries and student rights - It's about getting high on fixative due to poor ventilation, having an odd little Egyptian man who calls everyone 'Sarah' as a painting instructor, and, most importantly, hiding bottles of beer in various creative places around the painting shed with Louis, and then playing pool at lunchtime.
So, I ran back to Nepean with my tail between my legs. Turns out I have the ambition, backbone and pure substance of a pot of clag glue. I changed classes from last year and the people in my new class are fully wicked, and at least I am not a City Knob (although some people in my class from last year -namely, Gebus- would beg to differ). I am comfortably back to being a swearing, smoking, self-righteous westy, with plenty of other westies to bagout until I find enlightenment or get bored.

Amy's fantastical adventures in a completely familiar and ordinary place are to be continued...soon!

-Amy

mood: content music: positive tension -bloc party

So my car finally broke down today, outside a Correctional Complex for men.
This better not be the end of the legendary Hyundai. If so, then I'll be trapped out here for a very long time. At home, I mean. Not at the Correctional Complex.


-Amy

mood: de-hydrated

That's right, tomorrow is the last day of the year for TAFE. I hand my work in between 3 and 4pm. I will already be drunk as I hand in my last portfolio.

TOMORROW AT 4.OOpm I GO CRAZY.


I have been flicking through my old journal, remembering such events as the day that I dyed my hair pink, and the day that I purchased my carpet bag. Soon, on the 17th of December, the carpet bag and I will be having our first aniversary. We'll probably spend the day together, and as a special aniversary treat, I won't fill it with strange Asian lollies like Pocky, Chocolate Collons and Fancy Gems and let them get crushed and mashed into the lining.
I also won't let Jerry carry it as he ruins it and breaks all of the beads and is too rough.


-Amy

mood: contemplative

Dear Santa... Dear Santa, This year I've been busy! In August I helped ___swollen see the light (8 points). Last Monday I gave __kissingclocks a kidney (1000 points). Last Friday I ate my brussel sprouts (1 points). Last Tuesday I committed genocide... Sorry about that, kayori (-5000 points). In October I helped tree_sitter across the street (6 points). Overall, I've been naughty (-3985 points). For Christmas I deserve a lump of coal! Sincerely, Lemur_pie

Write your letter to Santa! Enter your LJ username:

I would have prefered a good old-fashioned spanking-with-a-paddle.

mood: x-moose mode.

...aaand here I am again. A pie of lemurs, with a hefty slice for all.

location: One horse town mood: yippy