babies; the scarier STI

Yesterday I went over to my neighbour's house. To meet their new baby. She let me hold it.
I kid you not, it was actually the scariest thing I have ever done in my entire life. Babies terrify me.


I used to say that one of the things I feared most was herpes. Not anymore.  Number one on my list right now, is babies. Following this was a conversation with my friend, where we decided that yes, babies were indeed the scariest STI (or STD as I still call them), because for herpes, you can take medication to control the itchy burning flare-ups, but once you have a baby, there is no medication that makes it go away (and if there is that's infanticide and highly illegal).


So what is it about babies that scares me so?
Let us examine, they are small, highly breakable, completely dependent (dear god no!!!), and they stare at you. Oh, let us not forget the crying, which becomes like some form of sick mystery game where you have to figure out what the reason is for crying, be it hunger, fatigue, or the dreaded possibility of you holding them wrong and causing them pain.
Perhaps it is also the fear that as a female, I am the one who would carry the thing for 9 months (watching what I eat, how I walk, how I sit, what I inhale so as not to harm bubs), and then going through the delightful experience of birth. This follows hot on the heels of me doing some bio study and seeing a rather graphic picture of birth - to my mind not a necessary inclusion in my bio textbook, but thank you biozone for giving me more reasons not to get pregnant. Ever.


However, to amuse myself, I will often play a little game where I imagine what psychological torments I could inflict upon my children. It's quite a fun game. You should try it. It has often given me many times of fun distraction, imagining up the disturbed psyche of my hypothetical child would be.


Anyway, that's all from me.




On a slightly unrelated note, I find this hilarious, and a strangely good song. But we shouldn't make fun of rape. It's a serious thing.

Musings on a playlist

I've done something like 4 essays today. I'm quietly proud of myself - don't ask me what they were because that makes it less impressive. 


Just to quickly clear something up - my nickname for Canard comes from a discussion we had about insults in french, and the fact that the french for 'duck' I mistook to be a truly filthy french insult. So now I call her that all the time. 


Well dear reader, I'm going to try something a bit different today. 
To escape from the mundane nature of schoolwork, I've put on some music (for now the Red Hot Chili Peppers), and I'm going to engage in a creative exercise. Again, I completely understand if you decide this is not worth reading. I'll write something more interesting soon, I promise. 


I'm going to call this experiment, 'the evocation of sound'. Links are duly attached if you are interested (stress free blog-reading with attached soundtrack, I'm so good to you guys).


So what does 'Californication 'make me think of? 
-the destruction of purity and innocence by the corporation's desire to make money off it. 
-the attraction of some to the mass-market deconstruction of a personality simply into an icon, and the accompanying petrification at the concept of aging
-*guitar solo is simply awesome*
-it conjures up the image of the setting sun for me actually, don't ask me why
-globilisation and the fact that perhaps its not always a good thing


'Beat It' - Michael Jackson
-moving on....


'Islands' the XX
I said to a friend (who is awesome and who actually introduced me into them) that whenever I listen to the XX, I always simply visualise a room full of apathetic people simply shuffling in time to a beat. That being said they touch something within me (in a non-sexual assault way). 
-the idea of two people finding something within each other that makes them feel connected. I'm possibly getting this from the title, which makes me think of Hugh Grant in 'About a Boy', talking about the idea that no man is an island. 


'Someone Saved my Life Tonight' Elton John
This is actually one of my favourite songs. It's quite beautiful. 
-a story on two levels, a toxic love affair, and the entrapment of an individual within the corporate world, and the loss of self that accompanies both of these things, and the rediscovery of the self, and subsequent escape
(Although this view is possibly tempered by the fact that I happen to know it is about his suicide attempt where he turned the gas on on his stove, and left the windows open)


'No Mountain' The Cat Empire
One of the few love songs that the Cat Empire has written. 
-the improbability of finding someone, and the evocation of that feeling, the utter giving up of yourself to someone 'there is no option anymore, alone with you'. There's almost an understanding that there is inperpetuation (yeah I just made that word up) within the relationship, yet the desire to still pursue it. 




Anyway, that's it from me. Except I'll leave you with my favourite song of all time - also by the Cat Empire. It's called 'Lullaby'. It will always cheer me up (assuming I put it on). This interpretation is up to you. 


If you chose to click the links, I hope you enjoyed listening. 


I'll leave you with a quote (I seriously love quotes), again from the Cat Empire. 

'music is the language of us all'

My most meaningful relationship

Some days I think the only truly meaningful relationship I will ever have is with my cat (and possibly Canard - and this isn't a codename either because I actually call her this, because I'm talking to her right now). 

                               *Actually I'm going to insert a disclaimer right here, because I'm talking to Canard, who is a rather wonderful person, who makes me say some rather hilarious, but strange things.*


Seriously though. My cat is a constant in my life, warm (that's very important for me as I get cold easily), lovable, and she (I actually have two cats but for the purpose of this post they are one) sleeps with me nineteen nights out of twenty (also important because I am not a fan of sleeping alone). 


When I am sad, invariably, the only person who I will allow anywhere remotely near me is most of the time, my cat - possibly because they can't talk and tell me how to feel better, all I have to do is cuddle her, which is quite soothing. 


Ok, I realise this may sound a little unusual, but think about this - there is a silent understanding between my pet and I that means that she (or he) is a silent companion who is quite simply always there for me. How many relationships do you know that have this kind of bond and understanding? I watched 'The Last Station' last night, and found myself drawn to the relationship between Tolstoy and his wife - despite all of the obstacles which made them fight so furiously, they had such an amazing connection, and relationship, and an understanding, despite the social and political problems which frequently drove them apart. Now that is a relationship I envy...without the bit where he goes off as he's dying and it's only just before he dies that she ends up with him again (sorry if you were planning to watch it and I just gave you spoilers, watch it still coz that's only one part of the story).


So to make this blog slightly less pet-focused, broadening this idea, what do you look for in a companion dearest reader? 
For me, evidently, it is someone who bears remarkably similar traits to a cat. 



I know this is a short blog post, but Canard is distracting me far too much, and I can only think of things to write that connect to cats. 



UPDATE. I was reading through a friend's blog (Canard's actually), and she provided this link, which I will now link here. 
Just proves that there is someone out there for everyone <3

Faith

So many things to blog about. 
Grand final debate tomorrow (die opposition, die) for which I am about as nervous as a virginal bride, not that there are too many of those around nowdays, study study study (or procrastination thereof), and of course sex, that old chestnut. 

Actually I could pretty much dedicate a blog to the wonders of cake should I so choose, but I decided not to, on the fact that by the end, I'd just want moar cake, which would just end in me sobbing about my waistline. 

But let's think on faith. The reason I bring this up is because of  the advised topic that is "Islam" for tomorrow's debate, which of course got me thinking about our different faiths and diversities. 
Religion is one of the baser divisions within our societies, within our lives. Perhaps one of the governing forces in the way our lives are constructed (to me the ultimate governing force is sex, but that's another post entirely). 
From the earliest we have records, there has been some form of faith that is interwoven with our lives - a belief in a higher power. 

I label myself as an atheist, but the truth is I'm not quite sure. Atheism is the belief in nothing other than now - which opens the door to a hedonistic mindset - and I don't necessarily believe in absolutely nothing else, just not in anything definite. I also reject the ideas that somebody else is going to use a prescribed set of rules to tell me how to live my life, far better to develop my own ideas and moral code and live by that, because that at least means I've thought about it. 

But there is something beautiful in the faithful. Not that I would ever want to be one of them, but the ability to believe, the trust that is within that, I occasionally find myself envying. It's so...absolute. 
I think, for many reasons, this is why I find the religion of Islam attractive. The emphasis placed upon education, and the pursuit of knowledge is high, and the idea that the koran itself is so beautiful as to be the miracle of Islam, are things that I find not only intriguing, but also quite lovely. 
While I would never choose to veil myself (although I highly respect those women who choose to do so), I think there is something to be said for the Islamic approach to the body. Think of the bombardment that is within our culture - of stick-thin women with perfect skin. I was looking at a magazine, and the article that jumped out at me said '8 ways to love the bits you hate' - implying that there is something wrong with your body, but you can overcome it with persistence. 

I enjoy learning about religion, it is a fascinating thing, and I respect people for their beliefs. There is something to be learned from every religion, so long as it is not simply followed, which I believe many people simply do, rather than looking at a teaching, deconstructing it, examining it and thinking 'yes, yes I believe that, and agree with this, I will incorporate this into my lifestyle.' 

Anyway, I must end this post now, as there is a time limit to work to (oh the things I do for those I love). 


But I shall leave you all with this thought. 
What do I have faith in? My loved ones of course. 




Thus ends the lesson.

Family

I'm trying to write an English practice essay. As you may have guessed, it's going pretty well.....(oh well)


Family (I only just decided on this now, so bear with me if I don't ever get to a point). 
I often find myself cringing at my family - they are loud. Oh so loud...I have an uncle (great-uncle actually, but who cares) who has a habit of telling everybody what to do (yes, yes, don't say it, I'm working on 'suggesting' less), in a rather abrasive manner. I have another great-uncle, who despite being a massive source of inspiration for me artistically, has battled (and in my opinion not successfully) alcoholism and prescription drug use, and who has a wife who in my opinion enables him. 
And that's only on my mother's side. 
My father's family is equally strange, although in different ways, being a distant and not particularly emotionally communicative bunch. I was on the phone to my sister many months ago about an ongoing problem I have with my father (not a particularly nice partner), and she said to me 'I love you so much'. And that is one of my treasured memories. 

Yet. 
My sister came to my art show on Tuesday, and was so overwhelmingly pleased for me when I won an award. She also made this amazingly awesome birthday lunch for me yesterday, and is sewing a dress for my valedictory for me. 
My uncle and aunt will often take us out for lunch when my grandparents are off traveling (in their 70s and 80s and still driving around Australia), and his son was the previous owner of my car (oh my god I have a car!!!). Before they handed the car over to me, my cousin (or cousin once-removed, I get confused) made sure the car was buffer rinsed, they put champagne in it (don't worry kiddies, I didn't drink and drive), and created the bow that went on the bonnet. 
My other aunt and uncle came in despite living in the country, and being octogenarians - and feeble ones at that  because it was my 18th birthday (despite possibly causing more problems in coming in but it's the thought that counts).  


Do you see what I'm getting at here? 


My friends also, I consider the family who you simply find in life (they're slightly less mad than my family). They are the ones who came over to my house on the morning of my birthday to feed me cake and make me pancakes (they're awake at 3am texting each other the new plan for coming over to feed me cake and pancakes because the old plan failed). They came over in the day to drop off a present even though I was seeing them that night. They're the ones who have stayed up until three in the morning with me because I was upset over something and needed the support. They're the ones who simply say 'I'll be there in 15 minutes' when I'm feeling down, or bring me chocolate because I broke up with my boyfriend and may be upset about it. 


Getting the picture? 


And yes, with friends, you have problems to, when you sort of think, 'I wish they hadn't done that'. But that becomes unimportant in the face of what they DO do that matters, that is hugely, wonderfully amazing. And it's the same with blood relatives. 


This is a piece of advice my mother (god bless her and my hugely bi-polar relationship with her) gave me. "You have to accept people the way they are, and love them despite their faults, because everything that they do do for you balances this out." And as much as I hate to admit it, although it's ok to, because I don't think she has ever read my blog, or indeed, knows where to find it, she is right. 


And I think I have a pretty goddamn awesome family.

Apathy

This week, with the return to school has seen me at the height of my apathy towards well...the world in general really.
Today as I sat numbly in English, wondering if there really was a point to the dissection of Friel and Shaffer's plays, it hit me that while we may say passion, love or anger (to name but a few examples) were the sentiments that were the most effective in terms of things that are done as a result of them, apathy is more powerful than any of them (to my mind at least). Not because of what it achieves, but really, because of what it doesn't achieve.




Being apathetic means that you don't care. More than that, it mean's that you can't be bothered. Or at the very least, that is what I believe it to mean.
While things are achieved, or done, because of rage, or anger, even joy, things are not done because of apathy. Things aren't spoken out about enough, or at all because of apathy, ideas are left unvoiced because 'I cbf', or even to relate it back to my week so far, study is not done, because not doing anything is so much easier.


I'll probably have people on my back, telling me that I've mis-defined apathy. But this is how I interpret it to be inaction because action itself is simply too hard, and not enough energy can truly be mustered to complete an action, because ultimately it is not judged to be overall beneficial enough to be worth doing.


Often used to describe my generation is 'apathetic', because let's face it, we're comfortable where we are, we don't really feel the need to do that much extra. I have a friend who supports very much youth action and youth involvement, and I think (although I could be wrong) one of the reasons why, aside from the fact that yes, this is her generation, is because she recognises the growing apathetic nature amongst us.


Apathy is powerful also because it is sneaky. We don't necessarily realise it is there, because it has no direct results. And yes, while it often goes hand in hand with sentiments such as complacency and perhaps even depression, it is still there, and I think we do not recognise it enough.


Anyway, I'm too apathetic (see?) to check over this or end it properly, and dinner is being served, and it's tantalising aroma is distracting me far too much.
Just thought I'd give you some food for thought. 




Be good and eat your veggies.

Definitions

I have a friend, who lectures, and is particularly concerned with the adolescence of my generation. He will often challenge these lecture groups, saying 'the next time someone tells you that they love you, ask them "what exactly do you mean by that?"'
IT is a question that i have thought often and long about, as I think (and I'm not the only one to say this) that we throw the word 'love' around frequently.
This is I guess, a continuation of sorts on my post on love (which I was really pleased with thankyouverymuch), and I suppose I wanted to clear up how I view love.


I would also like to preface this, with the fact that I use this term for everybody. Being in a relationship, to me, doesn't mean that this changes in any way.


When I say to someone, 'I love you', what I mean by that is:
-I might think that what you are doing right now is the stupidest thing ever, but you know that I will stand by you  if it goes wrong (and one person in particular knows exactly that I'm saying this to them on this particular morning)
-Even though I might not support what you are doing right now, I will support you. Always
-If there's something wrong, you know I'll do anything to fix it
-Spending time with you is one of my favourite things to do, irrespective of what we're actually doing
-I don't know where I'd be without you


There's probably more, but you get the general idea.


What I'm trying to say, is that when people say 'I love you' to each other, I often feel it's like they're using a phrase that they don't actually know what it means - the best I can compare it to is when somebody uses big words, when they only have the barest of ideas as to what the words actually mean, in order to sound more intelligent.


I am often guilty of speaking and then thinking (although I must admit, it's quite fun to then back up a point you haven't really thought about, and realise halfway through you don't actually agree with), but I will never tell somebody that I love them, unless that sentiment towards them in genuine love, according to my definition.


I think perhaps one of the reasons why we have people saying 'I love you' without any real meaning behind it, its because the idea of 'love' varies from person to person. However, I think everybody should at some point sit down, and figure out at least basically, what 'love' means to them.
Why? Because aside from everything else, heedlessly flinging a term like that around is sloppy use of the English language, which upsets me. But for a reason that is perhaps more beneficial to society, understanding what love is to you, means that you understand yourself better.

Assumptions

This is sort of part 2 to expectations, so I completely understand if you, dear reader, choose to skip this entirely. 


I think we make too many assumptions. 


We assume if we act a certain way, or do certain things, then this will elicit a particular outcome. The assumption is (when stripped bare) that 2 + 2 = 4.
Tonight, I'm going to only deal with the way in which we assume about people. Basically, because of an assumption that was made about me recently, and it got me thinking (and writing). 


We assume that if we dress a certain way, then we will belong to a particular label. Or, to put it another way, we assume that because someone is dressed a certain way, they act a certain way. I said a similar thing last night, when I spoke about the expectations we place on people. If someone dresses in all black with chains, we assume they would fit into the 'goth' or 'emo' stereotype, and then expect them to behave a certain way, or within certain parameters. Similarly, if someone is dressed in skinnyleg jeans, with a t-shirt under a checkered shirt, they fall under the broad range of 'indie' (although I would argue that they are mainstream indie, and therefore equal to scum as they destroy the entire concept of indie. butmovingon). 
Do you see what I'm getting at here? 
We label people, and make assumptions about them. I think this is a trait we, as humans, have. We like to place labels on people, to mentally place parameters around what we believe they will and will not do, what they do, and do not like, so then we have them 'figured'. 


Tonight, someone said to me, after weeks of being covertly aggressive towards me, and blaming me for things that I did (and while I make no apologies for my actions I do feel I should set out that I explained why I was doing this the way I was doing, and they said that it was understood), they were ready to get back to being friends with me again. 
God, typing that makes me feel like I'm back in primary school again. 
But, the ludicrous nature of this aside, the assumption was made that I was ready to 'go back to being friends'. I think, my post on forgiveness also sort of comes in here, but pushing that aside from one moment, this really has made me wonder about my own assumptions about the people around me. 
For example, someone (who I do not know, which made it all the more flattering) posted a comment on my second and third blog, complimenting and commenting on the content. I assumed that he still would read my blog - yet I could be wrong (if I did assume correctly, I don't think I ever thanked you for your comments, so thank you, they were much appreciated). 
Similarly, I assume that if I cut my hair a certain way, people will react a certain way. Yes, I did get a hair cut this morning, which I why I used this particular example - it is quite short. 
I basically make the assumption that people think I either have something to prove or (well I'm going to be brutally honest here, and say it), that I am a raging lesbian. However, I could be wrong. Maybe people look at me, and think 'hey, that looks like a really convenient haircut, which flatters her pretty neck' (NB I dont actually think my neck is that special, but this hypothetical person/people is particularly complimentary - I was just encouraged to be a little narcissistic). Just to clear it up though, the reason I cut my hair is a combination of reasons, I mentioned a couple before, but ultimately it's because I like it (shocking I know!).


Oh, and it just occurred to me, I think the biggest assumption that I make that I can use right here, is that I assume people read my blog! Ok, that's not quite true, because I have this little counter that shows me how many times my posts have been viewed, but I assume people read it....AND ENJOY IT! :O  (first and last emote on here, I promise). 


So the moral of the story is that assumptions are often wrong, so you shouldn't set them in stone.


Be good!