Do YOU feel like daning?
I’m totally in love with the song ‘I don’t feel like dancin’ by the Scissor Sisters at the moment, in fact I’m listening to it right about now. It’s just so funky and the lyrics are hilarious.
So… I’ve generally refrained from writing about Dean, simply because the whole situation with ‘us’ just brings about a giant cloud of confusion. I have feelings for him, and he knows this, but there’s so much ambiguity about what we are and what we have. So we’ve established the fact that we like each other, but it’s what we do with those feelings that is confusing. I think we want different things, as I don’t really see the point of investing time into something that’s not going to go anywhere. But I’m just so sick of talking and thinking about it, it all seems so complicated already. Even when we discuss it, we just seem to go around in circles and nothing gets solved or answered. I might just be putting all my eggs into one basket here, but you know I talk to guy friends and potentials (yes that’s what I’m calling them) all the time. And while it’s good talking to them, with Dean it’s just… different. I’m so over talking about this though and others are probably REALLY over hearing about it lol, so I’m just going to leave it for now, not even going to think about it. I’ll meet up with him in the city for lunch after exams are done, and we’ll just take it as it comes from there. Blah!
Now, if you’ve read the previous post, you’d know that I’ve been on a bit of a cleaning spree lately… which really just is a form of procrastination, albeit a productive one. Well hidden at the very back of my closet I made a rather horrifying discovery. I found the pink cardigan that my mum used to dress me in whenever we went ANYWHERE. Now, I remember when my young self had had enough of said cardigan and stuffed it at the back of my closet, hidden from my mother and never to be worn again. Oh yes, it was indeed a good day when little me had finally won the war against the dreaded pink cardigan. Why it was still in my closet, I have no idea, but now it’s finally gone for good!
And so here I was, definitely NOT bringin sexy back, “yeah”
And so it goes, another boring post brought to you by my very bored self. But yeah… I won’t be online much at all in the coming weeks. I’m on a self imposed internet ban, if you will.
Oh it’s not, is it?
Life has taken a bit of a boring turn. I’ve just been cleaning, sorting and studying these last couple of days, although these activities have been placed in order of time distribution. So while I was on my cleaning spree yesterday, at about half way through when I was tired, frustrated, sweaty and surrounded by mess (hey, everyone knows that you’ve got to make mess to clean mess); I was surprised to find an all too familiar red book sitting at the topmost shelf of my wardrobe. This little red book was indeed the very same diary that I started at the tender age of eight, with my very first entry scribbled in on 23 June 1996.
I took this very rare find as an omen to have a break and sat down to flick through said diary. The only problem was that I couldn’t for the life of me remember when I’d put the keys to the damn thing. So 15 minutes, a screwdriver, a pair of pliers and a hammer later, I had cracked the sucker open and my determined self sat down to read. And as a good friend once said ‘I don’t keep diaries for the sole reason of the embarrassment faced when reading them later’, I had finally come to realise what she had meant.
While my eight year-old self wrote about getting the chicken pox, at ten I was talking about my time dancing in Queensland, dancing with John in Japan, my desperate love for Matthew Salter… and my subsequent hatred of him. By the time I’d hit eleven, I’d had ‘the worst day ever in my entire life’ when at Thredbo, I lost my sunglasses when I dropped them off the chair lift on the way up to the mountain… and then dropped my mum’s camera off of the same chair lift on the way back down. I wrote a lot about dancing until about a year into high school, when instead I began discussing my contempt towards my father for sending my to an all-girls high school.
When I was in year eight I wrote: ‘I’ve got three 13 year-olds after me and I don’t know what the hell to do, they’re pretty annoying.’ But a few months later wrote this about one of them: ‘Chris is heaps funny, I’ve been talking to him a lot and I like him… he plays cricket, HELLO!!’ (If Chris reads this now… lol). During the great four year standoff with Cassie I wrote ‘I don’t even have time for the girl these days, we don’t even click anymore, the only thing we seem to have in common is our last name’ (Those four years were tough Cas, I wish we just got over ourselves earlier, I really could’ve used your support). I stopped reading it a bit after turning 14, because, quite frankly I’m a little scared of what suppressed memories may be forced back to the surface… Here are a couple lines that I read and thought ‘wtf’ lol. They should never, ever again be taken out of context:
1) ‘We had so much fun last night, I hope James does a three way with me and Chris again tonight’Now this was in relation to a three way conversation…as in on the telephone. Shut up, they use to be all the rage!
2) ‘Now if there’s one thing I learnt today, it was to NEVER leave before the little man comes’
Umm… yeah… lol. Here I was writing about the time that me and my friend both got bowled over by the same car at a busy intersection… so ya’ll better remember to wait for the little man to come! (Before you decide to cross the street that is =p)
In other news, Craig has now asked me twice to go for coffee or dinner… And being the kind of person who has trouble with saying ‘no’ in these kinds of situations (unless the guy just cannot take a hint); I suggested a group activity instead. It’s not that I don’t like the guy; it’s just that I don’t really know him all that well. I don’t want to go out somewhere with him and give him the wrong impression or anything. With exams right around the corner though, it’s not like I can go out right now anyway, and so I told him that. His response – ‘Aww that sucks, but I reckon you’re worth the wait’…
He’s WHAT?
Okay, okay, I give up. I admit it, my two male neighbours are gay, so you can all stop trying to convince me now. Up until this point, I have generally avoided the topic of Will and Anthony’s sexual orientation as I have been living in a shade of denial, not wanting to believe that my two (very) cute neighbours were indeed homosexual. Since they moved in about a year and a half ago, I’ve been able to ignore the fact that they once shared a car, are incredibly well groomed, and are very friendly and charming but ‘appear’ to be single.
Considering the fact that I was able to dismiss strong indicators from the early evidence, I refused to believe they were gay basically because I didn’t want to believe that they were. What was that final factor leading to my admission you ask? Well as I got up this morning and proceeded to the bathroom to wash my face, playing from next door I could hear a song that no straight man would ever, ever play, particularly if there was the off chance that someone else could hear it. While during the time they’ve lived next door, I was able to ignore the fact that songs by Britney Spears and Mariah Carey could regularly be heard booming from their house, but this song took the cake and I was unable to deny the truth that my friends had been trying to get me to admit for so long. So as I entered the bathroom with my best sleepy face on and turned on the tap, I could hear a tragically familiar beat coming from next door… that beat my friends belonged to the song Hero by Enrique Iglesias. I stood there motionless while trying to figure out what the song was, but when it struck me, it was all over; I caught a glimpse of my own reflection and burst out laughing.
So today was a sad, sad, day in the life of me. It almost rivals the day when an 11 year old me found out that Stephen Gately, my favourite guy from boyzone, indecently only shopped in the boy’s zone. Don’t worry Stephen, I’ll love you ‘no matter what’. Even though I picked out David from Big Brother’s gayness within a few minutes of seeing him, I think my gaydar needs some serious tweaking or something because the boyzone debacle is not a lone incident. My favourite N’sync-er was Lance Bass, I had a major thing for Darren Hayes during his Savage Garden days and the other day while watching some crappy MTV show, I was all ‘he’s pretty hot’ before I also found out that ‘he’s pretty gay’. Geeze I sure can pick em…
Oh and I also just found out that the guy that I thought was cute from survivor last night is also… gay! I’m going to start getting a complex if this continues for any longer. Me thinks that I should just not show any interest in any guys until I have rock hard evidence that they’re straight. So while we’re on topic, anyone else planning on coming out of the closet anytime soon, huh? What about any of my guy friends, ex-boyfriends or even *THAT* hot guy from Port? (Muhaha Cassie, you know who I'm talking about!). Or how about you, Colin Farrell? Johnny Depp? Johnny Knoxville? Or even you Vince Vaughn? And yes, I am admitting my secret thing for good ole Vince, but don’t even get me started, I’m sure your secret celeb crush is much, MUCH more embarrassing than mine… That is of course unless Vince turns out to be gay… And in which case, I’ll be so traumatised that I’d have skipped the country and moved to Brazil.
…Do you always sound like this?
Well, well, well… I graduated! The ceremony on Friday was pretty good, and while I won’t miss the place, it was a very nice send off. My one goal for the entire day was to not fall down the ridiculously steep stairs leading from the stage and yay for me, I succeeded. I don’t have pictures ready yet but when I get around to it, I’ll put some up.
I stayed at Cassie’s house Friday night, where celebrations were cut short at about 11:30pm-ish. I’d only gotten about 4 hours of sleep the night before, and with the long day and my (fabulous =p) commentary on the video camera, my voice went well into man mode. Yep… man voice was back… I’m surprised that I didn’t lose my voice completely. I was pretty much wide awake through till around 2am, when after a two hour phone call, I finally fell asleep.
Getting woken up at 6am wasn’t fun, but you get that. I think Cassie’s mum was semi-horrified that I slept in my clothes, but meh… It just made it easier for me to get up in the morning; all I had to do was roll out of bed, grab my bag and I was good to go. And with tired eyes, smudged makeup, messy hair, goose bumps from the lack of jacket and stilettos in hand, I made my way home. Yeah, real classy girl I am…lol
Work was so shit yesterday. The public holiday crew really suffer and while we well paid, we’re very stressed. I can’t believe that Cassie and I fought over a fucking register… I mean seriously, we’re bigger than that sort of crap. I can’t even justify our actions, but we’ll get though it. You know I love you, you idiot =P
