In love with the thought of being in love.
Perhaps it should be considered?
Note: This particular feeling should be distinguished from the feeling of love itself.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Change, or should I say realisation?
Two things have recently changed in my life.
Today I was at school by 7:00am, ready to jump in the pool and do lap after lap; something which incidentally is called ‘swimming training’. To be totally honest, today was a perfect morning. The pool wasn’t cold, I had my friends around me, there was the prospect of a delicious breakfast to keep me going, and I was happy. I found the training surprisingly easy. I say surprising because in the past month or so the exercise part of my life has been a little slow. But perhaps the little bit of exercise that I had actually done lately kept my general fitness? Whatever it was the training never left me breathless or feeling like I was going to die (apart from the 25m butterfly that we did but that doesn’t count simply because its butterfly). There is a slight difference between being unfit and being unused to the sport you are doing. I know the difference between the two and I was surprised to find that the feeling I was getting was that of being unused to the sport rather than being unfit. I suppose it sort of boosted my confidence in a way, knowing that I was still relatively good at something.
While I was swimming, following the bubbles that Garnet made in the water, I thought about the sport that I do. And I came to the conclusion that although I am alright at running and swimming, bike riding is still my favorite sport. It actually felt quite odd doing something this morning that didn’t require the push of my leg muscles. So anyway my list of favorite sports goes as follows:
1. Bike Riding
2. Swimming
3. Running
Probably not in the order of the ones I am better at but never mind.
And second thing.
I have finally managed to find again my love of playing the flute. It happened the other Friday when I could feel I was getting over-stressed about school. So I relaxed and took a stroll over to Padua to have my music lesson. For the first time in a while I actually listened to the band and I realised how great we sound now. For the past year I haven’t really had any interest in band and I was, in all honesty, just a part of the band for the sake of it. Occasionally I found the ever so long Wednesday afternoon practises a chore and spent most of the time imagining what else I could be doing at that moment. I didn’t have any really close friends in the band and was really a bit of a loner. I found excuses not to do practice and then lost interest when I couldn’t play parts as a result of not doing practice. But, the other Friday when I actually listened to the whole band, I was really blown away by how far we had come. Maybe it was the fact that sometime on the last holidays it really hit everyone that hey, we are going to New Zealand at the end of November. And in a way, it made them want to work harder and deserve to go to New Zealand.
I know that’s what happened to me. So lately I have enjoyed band so much, practiced quite often and even enjoyed the company of the band, liking the feeling of belonging. On tour I know all of us will become so much closer. Plenty of new friendships will spring up. I am now, really excited to go on tour and I can’t wait to jump on that plane and go to the beautiful New Zealand. 31 days to go!
So I’m happy now. That time of the year, August/September, which is notorious for bad things to happen in, is over and now we can go back to enjoying life as it should be. Until next year. But that’s such a long way off that its easier not to think about it.
:)
Today I was at school by 7:00am, ready to jump in the pool and do lap after lap; something which incidentally is called ‘swimming training’. To be totally honest, today was a perfect morning. The pool wasn’t cold, I had my friends around me, there was the prospect of a delicious breakfast to keep me going, and I was happy. I found the training surprisingly easy. I say surprising because in the past month or so the exercise part of my life has been a little slow. But perhaps the little bit of exercise that I had actually done lately kept my general fitness? Whatever it was the training never left me breathless or feeling like I was going to die (apart from the 25m butterfly that we did but that doesn’t count simply because its butterfly). There is a slight difference between being unfit and being unused to the sport you are doing. I know the difference between the two and I was surprised to find that the feeling I was getting was that of being unused to the sport rather than being unfit. I suppose it sort of boosted my confidence in a way, knowing that I was still relatively good at something.
While I was swimming, following the bubbles that Garnet made in the water, I thought about the sport that I do. And I came to the conclusion that although I am alright at running and swimming, bike riding is still my favorite sport. It actually felt quite odd doing something this morning that didn’t require the push of my leg muscles. So anyway my list of favorite sports goes as follows:
1. Bike Riding
2. Swimming
3. Running
Probably not in the order of the ones I am better at but never mind.
And second thing.
I have finally managed to find again my love of playing the flute. It happened the other Friday when I could feel I was getting over-stressed about school. So I relaxed and took a stroll over to Padua to have my music lesson. For the first time in a while I actually listened to the band and I realised how great we sound now. For the past year I haven’t really had any interest in band and I was, in all honesty, just a part of the band for the sake of it. Occasionally I found the ever so long Wednesday afternoon practises a chore and spent most of the time imagining what else I could be doing at that moment. I didn’t have any really close friends in the band and was really a bit of a loner. I found excuses not to do practice and then lost interest when I couldn’t play parts as a result of not doing practice. But, the other Friday when I actually listened to the whole band, I was really blown away by how far we had come. Maybe it was the fact that sometime on the last holidays it really hit everyone that hey, we are going to New Zealand at the end of November. And in a way, it made them want to work harder and deserve to go to New Zealand.
I know that’s what happened to me. So lately I have enjoyed band so much, practiced quite often and even enjoyed the company of the band, liking the feeling of belonging. On tour I know all of us will become so much closer. Plenty of new friendships will spring up. I am now, really excited to go on tour and I can’t wait to jump on that plane and go to the beautiful New Zealand. 31 days to go!
So I’m happy now. That time of the year, August/September, which is notorious for bad things to happen in, is over and now we can go back to enjoying life as it should be. Until next year. But that’s such a long way off that its easier not to think about it.
:)
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Sweet 16?
So its that time of year again.
The time of year where I officially get older.
(I say officially because technically I’m always unfortunately getting older but its just that on the 2nd of November every year I officially get older in years because the seconds/hours/days/months don’t actually get counted. Just like in maths when you round 3.141592645 to be just 3.14. Anyway.)
(Actually hang on, according to that rule I was technically classed as being 16 years old the day that I reached being 15 years, 6 months and 1 day old because anything five and higher is rounded up in maths and in this instance we are rounding to the highest whole number. ANYWAY)
This year I’m not as excited as I have been in the past to have my birthday. Every year for the past few years I’ve has my birthday (at last!) and decided that I think I will stay at whatever age I just turned. I remember turning 13 and thinking that I would never be 14 because that is simply too old! I could never get that old! I would always stay at the same age of 13 forever, the same maturity level with the same level of smartness that I possessed back then. But life goes on and I got older once again. Being born at the end of the year has me watching all of my friends turn older one after another which leaves me being the only one left still 14 or 15 or whatever. Which means that, although I had previously decided that I want to stay at the age I was, I am now so sick of being the only one who is 14 or 15 or whatever that I’m glad when my birthday comes along and I can be as old as all of my friends instead of being the “baby” of the group. And the process starts again.
But this year I’ve managed to hang on to my will to stay at the age I am now, regardless of the fact that I am classed as younger than everyone else. This year I regard having a birthday and getting older in the same way that I regarded going to year eleven: sort of glad about the change, but knowing that the change brings more recognition yes, but also more responsibility, more work to do, more stress and less sweet innocence that all children are blessed with.
On Monday, due to some complicated circumstances that I can’t be bothered describing now, I had to ride my bike to school in order to make it to a band rehearsal that I was pretty much complied to attend to. To get to school via bike, I had to ride down the road from my house a bit and then onto the start of the bike path. I had not been to this bike path for a few years now. But when I was younger my family and I would ride along here almost every second weekend. (This actually made me realized how much biking was a part of my childhood. Quite surprising actually!)
I remember riding up to the big hill next to the dog park after you’ve gone along the road and preparing myself to get up that monstrous hill. I remember how big and steep the hill going down to the crossing over the river was and how scared I was to go down it in fear of going too fast and falling off. I remember stopping underneath the cars overpass to feed the ducks and watching the goose with half a beak eat the bread we gave him. I remember riding along the creek and thinking I was going a million miles and hour when I was in fact probably going about 7 or 8 km per hour. I remember the huge long bike rides we would do along the track which took hours and hours and which felt like we could have ridden all the way to Sydney judging the distance we just road. We probably road a maximum of about 15km. I now ride a much longer distance in a much shorter time. I remember daydreaming while riding along. I remember when one time the wind was so strong in the other direction coming back that dad had to ride in front blocking the wind with us tailed behind in his slipstream. I remember the creek so chocked with weeds that you couldn’t see the water. I remember the tiredness in my legs when we got home.
Going back there again felt slightly weird. Everything was so different. I could now see the water that was in the creek because the weeds had all been cut back. There were no longer the geese that I remember under the overpass. That huge hill took me hardly any effort to get up. I probably only road about 10km in total from our house to school which took me hardly half an hour. Everything seemed so much more little than what I remembered. Everything was in much smaller proportions than what I remembered: the distance, the hills, the time it took me.
I look back on that time when me and my family used to ride along that bike path and I wish that I was that young again. When I didn’t have a care in the world. When my biggest worry was that I didn’t know which teddy, out of my many, to sleep with that night. When I didn’t know about all the bad things that go on in our world. When I was satisfied with the simplest things like a dried apricot (mum never gave us sweets as rewards, it was always healthy food like dried fruit) or a new hair clip. I was in an ignorant bliss of the potential insecurity of my world and I only thought of the present. I certainly had a good childhood and I thank my parents for that.
I wish now, that I could go back and be that carefree, happy little girl that I once was. But this upcoming birthday brings me one step closer on the long road to saying goodbye to her forever.
*Sigh*
The time of year where I officially get older.
(I say officially because technically I’m always unfortunately getting older but its just that on the 2nd of November every year I officially get older in years because the seconds/hours/days/months don’t actually get counted. Just like in maths when you round 3.141592645 to be just 3.14. Anyway.)
(Actually hang on, according to that rule I was technically classed as being 16 years old the day that I reached being 15 years, 6 months and 1 day old because anything five and higher is rounded up in maths and in this instance we are rounding to the highest whole number. ANYWAY)
This year I’m not as excited as I have been in the past to have my birthday. Every year for the past few years I’ve has my birthday (at last!) and decided that I think I will stay at whatever age I just turned. I remember turning 13 and thinking that I would never be 14 because that is simply too old! I could never get that old! I would always stay at the same age of 13 forever, the same maturity level with the same level of smartness that I possessed back then. But life goes on and I got older once again. Being born at the end of the year has me watching all of my friends turn older one after another which leaves me being the only one left still 14 or 15 or whatever. Which means that, although I had previously decided that I want to stay at the age I was, I am now so sick of being the only one who is 14 or 15 or whatever that I’m glad when my birthday comes along and I can be as old as all of my friends instead of being the “baby” of the group. And the process starts again.
But this year I’ve managed to hang on to my will to stay at the age I am now, regardless of the fact that I am classed as younger than everyone else. This year I regard having a birthday and getting older in the same way that I regarded going to year eleven: sort of glad about the change, but knowing that the change brings more recognition yes, but also more responsibility, more work to do, more stress and less sweet innocence that all children are blessed with.
On Monday, due to some complicated circumstances that I can’t be bothered describing now, I had to ride my bike to school in order to make it to a band rehearsal that I was pretty much complied to attend to. To get to school via bike, I had to ride down the road from my house a bit and then onto the start of the bike path. I had not been to this bike path for a few years now. But when I was younger my family and I would ride along here almost every second weekend. (This actually made me realized how much biking was a part of my childhood. Quite surprising actually!)
I remember riding up to the big hill next to the dog park after you’ve gone along the road and preparing myself to get up that monstrous hill. I remember how big and steep the hill going down to the crossing over the river was and how scared I was to go down it in fear of going too fast and falling off. I remember stopping underneath the cars overpass to feed the ducks and watching the goose with half a beak eat the bread we gave him. I remember riding along the creek and thinking I was going a million miles and hour when I was in fact probably going about 7 or 8 km per hour. I remember the huge long bike rides we would do along the track which took hours and hours and which felt like we could have ridden all the way to Sydney judging the distance we just road. We probably road a maximum of about 15km. I now ride a much longer distance in a much shorter time. I remember daydreaming while riding along. I remember when one time the wind was so strong in the other direction coming back that dad had to ride in front blocking the wind with us tailed behind in his slipstream. I remember the creek so chocked with weeds that you couldn’t see the water. I remember the tiredness in my legs when we got home.
Going back there again felt slightly weird. Everything was so different. I could now see the water that was in the creek because the weeds had all been cut back. There were no longer the geese that I remember under the overpass. That huge hill took me hardly any effort to get up. I probably only road about 10km in total from our house to school which took me hardly half an hour. Everything seemed so much more little than what I remembered. Everything was in much smaller proportions than what I remembered: the distance, the hills, the time it took me.
I look back on that time when me and my family used to ride along that bike path and I wish that I was that young again. When I didn’t have a care in the world. When my biggest worry was that I didn’t know which teddy, out of my many, to sleep with that night. When I didn’t know about all the bad things that go on in our world. When I was satisfied with the simplest things like a dried apricot (mum never gave us sweets as rewards, it was always healthy food like dried fruit) or a new hair clip. I was in an ignorant bliss of the potential insecurity of my world and I only thought of the present. I certainly had a good childhood and I thank my parents for that.
I wish now, that I could go back and be that carefree, happy little girl that I once was. But this upcoming birthday brings me one step closer on the long road to saying goodbye to her forever.
*Sigh*
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Every Morning before School
I love it
When you greet me in the morning at school
When you say “Hello!” in an octave higher than usual for you and put a little accent on the ‘e’
When your next line after that is “I missed you!”
When you give me a big hug and fit your chin into that place on my shoulder
When you put up with my bad moods which occur on 98% of the mornings
When you make me feel like the only thing in your world because you most certainly are the only thing in mine
When you then clip me around the waist and steer me to the bag racks
When you then proceed to have a conversation with me and add comments into at least three other conversations going on around us
When you always send me off to homeroom (late as usual!) with a "Are you going to kill Mr Hutchinson today?"
I know that I wouldn’t come to school but for those few moments in the morning before the bell goes.
I know for certain I would be lost without you.
When you greet me in the morning at school
When you say “Hello!” in an octave higher than usual for you and put a little accent on the ‘e’
When your next line after that is “I missed you!”
When you give me a big hug and fit your chin into that place on my shoulder
When you put up with my bad moods which occur on 98% of the mornings
When you make me feel like the only thing in your world because you most certainly are the only thing in mine
When you then clip me around the waist and steer me to the bag racks
When you then proceed to have a conversation with me and add comments into at least three other conversations going on around us
When you always send me off to homeroom (late as usual!) with a "Are you going to kill Mr Hutchinson today?"
I know that I wouldn’t come to school but for those few moments in the morning before the bell goes.
I know for certain I would be lost without you.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Music & Lyrics
If I'm a bad person, you don't like me
Well, I guess I'll make my own way
It's a circle, I mean cycle
I can't excite you anymore
Where's your gavel? Your jury?
What's my offense this time?
You're not a judge but if you're gonna judge me
Well, sentence me to another life
Don't wanna hear your sad songs
I don't wanna feel your pain
When you swear it's all my fault
'Cause you know we're not the same
No, we're not the same, oh, we're not the same
We're the friends who stuck together
We wrote our names in blood
But I guess you can't accept that the change is good
It's good, it's good
Well, you treat me just like another stranger
Well, it's nice to meet you, sir
I guess I'll go, I best be on my way out
This is the best thing that could've happened
Any longer and I wouldn't have made it
It's not a war, no, it's not a rapture
I'm just a person but you can't take it
The same tricks that, that once fooled me
They won't get you anywhere
I'm not the same kid from your memory
Well, now I can fend for myself
Well, you treat me just like another stranger
Well, it's nice to meet you, sir
Well, I guess I'll go, I best be on my way out
You treat me just like another stranger
Well, it's nice to meet you, sir
I guess I'll go, I best be on my way out
Ignorance by Paramore
This is one of my favorite songs at the moment. The tune is pretty catchy and I'm quite a big Paramore fan. But mostly this is one of my favorite songs because the lyrics are amazing.
I find that these days the ‘pop songs’, the songs that most young people listen to, the songs that play on the radio, they don’t have very good lyrics. The lyrics seem to be just words to sing a tune to, words that the singer doesn’t mean.
Have you ever noticed how almost every song played on the radio is about love?
About loving someone or about breaking up with someone or about loving someone but them not loving you back or about making love to someone. It’s all about love. And the lyrics for these songs seem to end up being the same. They all mean the same thing. And I also find that those lyrics are not very.. thoughtful. They seem childish and silly and they don’t really mean anything. Sure, the tune may be good, but I’m the type of person who listens to the lyrics of the song. Because the lyrics are where the song really gets out and really grabs people.
I remember my owl saying once that the reason you like a song is mostly because you can relate to the lyrics. Because the lyrics are good and actually mean something. I reckon that young people can relate to the songs about love. That’s why almost every artist sings about it. But I don’t think that those lyrics are constructed very well. They are aimed at young people so cleaver language is not used. Once I was listening to some music that the boys had put on. Boys being boys, it was screamo that they put on just to piss the girls off. But my friend said to me, “At least they sing about real things. Things that are actually going on in the world right now. Unlike most the stuff that’s on the radio these days.” And I had to agree with him. I don’t listen to screamo but I do know that some of their lyrics are quite meaningful and about stuff that counts.
That’s why I don’t really listen to the radio anymore. Because I instead find myself wanting to plug my ipod into the radio and play my music instead. Play Paramore instead of Soulja Boy. The Whitlams instead of Britney Spears. AFI instead of Chris Brown. Greenday instead of Katy Perry. Pink instead of Lily Allen. They are some of my favorite artists for writing good lyrics. I find that their lyrics relate to me and mean something at the same time. They write about things other than love in their songs and the words they use seem somehow better in some way. The Whitlams, Paramore and Greenday in particular.
Here are some of my favorite lines from various songs. Some of the lyrics are a bit weird and maybe you need to hear the song to understand why I like these particular lines.
I seek you out, flay you alive. One more word and you won’t survive.
Eyes on Fire by Blue Foundation
Thoughts explode like my head is a grenade and I pulled the pin.
The Road is Lost by The Whitlams
Only law is ‘No law at all’
The Road is Lost by The Whitlams
All he saw was a woman, and all she was was a dream.
Some song which I don’t know the name of by Peter Gabriel
Sex is everywhere, but no where around me.
You Sound Like Louis Burdett by The Whitlams
Oh, my son, look at what I have done. I am learning still, know that I am learning still.
Forgive Me by Missy Higgins
I remember where I was when I got my first pussy, I thought I was living the life. And the craziest thing is I’ll probably never know the colour of my daughter’s eyes.
Loosing My Way by Justin Timberlake
I know the cost of a losing hand there but for the grace of God go hide.
Ave Maria by Beyonce
Have you ever hated yourself for staring at the phone, your whole life waiting on the ring to prove you’re not alone?
Glitter in the Air by Pink
Ave Mary A, where did you go, how did you know to get out of a world gone mad?
Ave Mary A by Pink
Charlie you’re not my Charlie anymore, screwing it up with an audience looking on.
Buy Now and Pay Later by The Whitlams
She’s got a body like an hourglass, its ticking like a clock.
Misery Business by Paramore
Satan delivers and the goods are alright. He’s at home counting the dough while I’m standing here for another last throw.
Royal in the Afternoon by The Whitlams
My favourite song of all time is by The Whitlams. I have blogged about it before. The Road is Lost. It tells of a story, a story of war. It doesn’t glorify war like some people have and it tells of war from the perspective of the people left at home, a perspective not often heard from. The lyrics of this song are truly amazing and it’s no wonder its my favourite song.
Maybe next time you listen to a song, hear the words instead of the tune.
You might be surprised.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
It's Time to Vote!
Tomorrow is quite a special day in a way. See, we’re going to be voting for school captains. This is quite a big thing I guess, especially if you put your name down as one of the candidates.
I did.
I put my name down for school captain and also cultural captain.
I remember in grade seven when I was such a big girl who was so important, I wanted more than anything, to be School Captain. I was devastated when Ellen got School Captain. I didn’t even get Vice Captain. I cried for at least an hour in the toilets when I found out that I didn’t get a captain of any sort. All my confidence was crushed because I didn’t get School Captain, which I wanted so badly. In the end I got Green House Captain which was pretty good I suppose, but in a small school where there were only four girls in Green House in grade seven anyway, it really wasn’t that much of an achievement. Every person in the grade got a captain of some sort, whether it was the Arts Captain, who was in charge of all the music and stuff, or whether it was the Recycling Captain, who, funnily enough, was in charge of emptying our class recycling bin into the big recycling bin. Everyone got a badge with a title on it. I did get over the fact that I wasn’t School Captain, and I swore that I would do everything I could to get School Captain in High School.
I got to High School. Going from a small primary school with 200 kids to a HUGE high school with 700 kids was quite a shock I guess. In primary school everyone knew everyone else. We all knew each other’s names and what each other’s parents looked like. We knew where most people lived and what family members they had. Everyone could identify everyone else, and even if you didn’t know a person directly, as in never spoken to them before, your best friend did, so you knew everything about that person from your best friend. At High School, I could hardly tell you everyone’s names in my grade until about half way through grade nine. I remember marvelling that still at the end of grade nine, there were faces who I had never seen before. Almost every day I saw a face which was totally unfamiliar. When we farewelled the year twelves I remember commenting to Courtney that I had never even seen half of them before and they were already leaving.
Gradually, after watching the School Captains one after another, talk on assembly, do certain things around the school, hear them talking about what they did because they were captain; gradually I decided that being School Captain in high school would be too much. Too much responsibility, too much time, too much effort, too much stress. So when nominations came around a few weeks ago I had already decided that I didn’t want to be School Captain. But then I thought about it.
If I was being honest, and not modest which I have a bad habit of doing, I have quite a good chance of being a captain of some sort. The amount of extra school activities I do is quite large. I’m not exactly getting D’s in my school work either, and most of the sports and music I do I’m a fairly valuable asset. I’m not the best at anything, but I’m certainly nearer the top than some others.
At first I wasn’t sure if I want a captainship. This year I have had a bit of trouble with my schoolwork; as in its certainly much, much harder to get an A this year than it was last year. I seem to have got more distracted this year and I seem to want to pay more attention to my social life rather than my school work. So my usual marks of mostly A’s have slipped back a bit to mostly B+’s with a few A’s and the occasional C. If I was a captain I would have to do quite a lot of extra stuff on top of what I already do. As it is, I now only have one free night a week to do homework because I am either at band, choir, sport or work. Being a captain would put a huge amount of pressure on me and I know my school work would slip, if even slightly.
In the past few days leading up to the voting day I have been quite nervous about voting. The main reason for that is that I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be a captain. I put my name in only because I have nothing to lose if I do. If I didn’t there would always be that niggling What if? in the back of my mind. And if I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be captain, then should I really be captain? Would I be a good captain? Would I be a good leader? What if I wasn’t? What if my school work really slipped down?
So I was nervous. Actually today I was really nervous because I had become convinced that I would get School Captain and I didn’t want to be School Captain anymore. But it was too late to pull out.
But thinking about it now, I’m not so nervous anymore.
If I get School Captain, great! I will use that to have opportunities that I would have before. I will use that to get better at public speaking and at juggling school work and social life and at being under stress. I think I wouldn’t make a bad School Captain, certainly not one of the worst.
If I don’t get School Captain, great!
I will be able to concentrate more on my school work that what I would if I was School Captain. I will have more free time and I won’t be so stressed.
I can see the pro’s and con’s of getting School Captain and not getting School Captain and I am going to choose to look at only the pro’s in both situations.
So wish me luck on trying for School Captain!
I hope my primary school wish comes true!
I did.
I put my name down for school captain and also cultural captain.
I remember in grade seven when I was such a big girl who was so important, I wanted more than anything, to be School Captain. I was devastated when Ellen got School Captain. I didn’t even get Vice Captain. I cried for at least an hour in the toilets when I found out that I didn’t get a captain of any sort. All my confidence was crushed because I didn’t get School Captain, which I wanted so badly. In the end I got Green House Captain which was pretty good I suppose, but in a small school where there were only four girls in Green House in grade seven anyway, it really wasn’t that much of an achievement. Every person in the grade got a captain of some sort, whether it was the Arts Captain, who was in charge of all the music and stuff, or whether it was the Recycling Captain, who, funnily enough, was in charge of emptying our class recycling bin into the big recycling bin. Everyone got a badge with a title on it. I did get over the fact that I wasn’t School Captain, and I swore that I would do everything I could to get School Captain in High School.
I got to High School. Going from a small primary school with 200 kids to a HUGE high school with 700 kids was quite a shock I guess. In primary school everyone knew everyone else. We all knew each other’s names and what each other’s parents looked like. We knew where most people lived and what family members they had. Everyone could identify everyone else, and even if you didn’t know a person directly, as in never spoken to them before, your best friend did, so you knew everything about that person from your best friend. At High School, I could hardly tell you everyone’s names in my grade until about half way through grade nine. I remember marvelling that still at the end of grade nine, there were faces who I had never seen before. Almost every day I saw a face which was totally unfamiliar. When we farewelled the year twelves I remember commenting to Courtney that I had never even seen half of them before and they were already leaving.
Gradually, after watching the School Captains one after another, talk on assembly, do certain things around the school, hear them talking about what they did because they were captain; gradually I decided that being School Captain in high school would be too much. Too much responsibility, too much time, too much effort, too much stress. So when nominations came around a few weeks ago I had already decided that I didn’t want to be School Captain. But then I thought about it.
If I was being honest, and not modest which I have a bad habit of doing, I have quite a good chance of being a captain of some sort. The amount of extra school activities I do is quite large. I’m not exactly getting D’s in my school work either, and most of the sports and music I do I’m a fairly valuable asset. I’m not the best at anything, but I’m certainly nearer the top than some others.
At first I wasn’t sure if I want a captainship. This year I have had a bit of trouble with my schoolwork; as in its certainly much, much harder to get an A this year than it was last year. I seem to have got more distracted this year and I seem to want to pay more attention to my social life rather than my school work. So my usual marks of mostly A’s have slipped back a bit to mostly B+’s with a few A’s and the occasional C. If I was a captain I would have to do quite a lot of extra stuff on top of what I already do. As it is, I now only have one free night a week to do homework because I am either at band, choir, sport or work. Being a captain would put a huge amount of pressure on me and I know my school work would slip, if even slightly.
In the past few days leading up to the voting day I have been quite nervous about voting. The main reason for that is that I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be a captain. I put my name in only because I have nothing to lose if I do. If I didn’t there would always be that niggling What if? in the back of my mind. And if I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be captain, then should I really be captain? Would I be a good captain? Would I be a good leader? What if I wasn’t? What if my school work really slipped down?
So I was nervous. Actually today I was really nervous because I had become convinced that I would get School Captain and I didn’t want to be School Captain anymore. But it was too late to pull out.
But thinking about it now, I’m not so nervous anymore.
If I get School Captain, great! I will use that to have opportunities that I would have before. I will use that to get better at public speaking and at juggling school work and social life and at being under stress. I think I wouldn’t make a bad School Captain, certainly not one of the worst.
If I don’t get School Captain, great!
I will be able to concentrate more on my school work that what I would if I was School Captain. I will have more free time and I won’t be so stressed.
I can see the pro’s and con’s of getting School Captain and not getting School Captain and I am going to choose to look at only the pro’s in both situations.
So wish me luck on trying for School Captain!
I hope my primary school wish comes true!
Monday, October 12, 2009
The Flying Scotsman
There is a story about a bike rider.
Who came from Scotland.
A small town in Scotland that the rest of the world had never heard of.
He built a bike from scratch using the laws of physics instead of the latest bikes that were being invented around the world.
His bike included a bearing from the middle of a washing machine.
It was made using riding techniques that had never before been thought of.
The total price of his bike would have been about $50.
He road this bike and won in the world championships for the most velodrome laps ridden in one hour.
He was racing against people who had bikes worth millions of dollars.
He went on to win several more championships for different types of races.
His story is a true story.
Two particular things hit me about this story.
Firstly, this man’s determination.
He trained for hours and hours on end so that he would be capable of standing a chance of breaking the world record. He decided to enter in the world championships just 4 weeks before they commenced. He had four weeks to build a bike and train up to be fit enough to win. And it was his determination to do this, to be a world champion, that let him achieve his goal.
Admittedly, the story was more about how he built his bike and how it shocked the world with its differences. But I was more shocked by Graeme Obree’s determination to be world champion. He did not have much money, coming from a rather poor family in the country of Scotland. But he made sure he got to the championships and he made sure he won them.
I think his story inspired me in terms of determination like no other story has. You hear of real stories of people doing this great thing and people doing that great thing and I just think, Well its all very well for them, they are strong, they can achieve their goals, but I know I can never do that.
Perhaps it was because this story was about bikes.
Perhaps it was because of the way Graeme Obree shocked the world with his different bike.
Perhaps it was because he came from a poorish sort of family.
Perhaps it was because he showed all of the bad as well as the good.
Or perhaps it was because Graeme Obree suffered quite badly from schizophrenia.
His condition was partly a result of being the victim of horrible bullying as a child.
He was made to feel worthless, small and insignificant, a failure, not worth anyone’s times, a waste of space, by four boys who really just needed a self-esteem boost from picking on someone.
When you bully someone who already suffers from depression or schizophrenia or any other type of mental disease that can make one seem like a normal person sometimes, you just make it worse. Most of the time, they already feel like the biggest piece of fucking shit in the world. You don’t need to tell them on top of what they are already telling themselves that they should hate themselves.
Graeme’s disorder drove him to do things that a normal person wouldn’t do.
But I don’t like comparing him to a normal person.
After all, what is normal?
Anyway, I’ll admit, there were a few minutes of the movie that I didn’t watch.
They involved a rope hanging from a tree and a very depressed bullied boy who couldn’t take it anymore.
And I was out of the room.
Not because I don’t really like seeing gruesome things such as suicide.
But because I couldn’t stand seeing a little boy being bullied to the point of suicide.
To the point where he would rather die.
To the point where he wants it all to end.
To the point where the only person who can help him is himself.
I could not stand to watch him hang himself while I just did nothing.
I know I was watching a movie, and that it wasn’t real, and that I knew the little boy grew up to become a world champion bike rider.
But I couldn’t help think that most probably, somewhere in the world right now, someone is committing suicide. And I am doing nothing about it.
I could not understand why those bullies did what they did to that boy. Didn’t they see they were driving him insane? Didn’t they see what they were doing to him?
The answer to that is of course they did.
That’s why they were doing it.
They bullied him because he retaliated. For a normal person, a person without a disability, that’s not so bad. I mean, sure its still pretty bad, but its worse because Graeme couldn’t help but retaliate. That’s what is disability was. Schizophrenia means that a person cannot control their emotions. So Graeme could not control his anger when the other boys bullied him. He could not help but retaliate.
The thing I find sickening is that those boys bullied Graeme because they got a kick out of it. Who cares about how much they were hurting Graeme? Who cares about how they were making Graeme feel? They were happy and that’s all that mattered.
I cannot understand how someone would purposely hurt someone like that. I cannot understand how someone can be so selfish and not care about another person’s feelings. It’s disgusting and cruel and it sickens me.
I think in the end, it’s the bullies that have the mental disabilities, not their victims.
Graeme Obree inspired me.
To pull through and achieve your goals. To not let your emotions run away with you. To have determination. To not let anything get in the way of you doing what you want to.
But most of all, Graeme Obree inspired me to make sure that you control what you want to happen to you. Not anyone else, not other things, not your emotions, but your mind.
Who came from Scotland.
A small town in Scotland that the rest of the world had never heard of.
He built a bike from scratch using the laws of physics instead of the latest bikes that were being invented around the world.
His bike included a bearing from the middle of a washing machine.
It was made using riding techniques that had never before been thought of.
The total price of his bike would have been about $50.
He road this bike and won in the world championships for the most velodrome laps ridden in one hour.
He was racing against people who had bikes worth millions of dollars.
He went on to win several more championships for different types of races.
His story is a true story.
Two particular things hit me about this story.
Firstly, this man’s determination.
He trained for hours and hours on end so that he would be capable of standing a chance of breaking the world record. He decided to enter in the world championships just 4 weeks before they commenced. He had four weeks to build a bike and train up to be fit enough to win. And it was his determination to do this, to be a world champion, that let him achieve his goal.
Admittedly, the story was more about how he built his bike and how it shocked the world with its differences. But I was more shocked by Graeme Obree’s determination to be world champion. He did not have much money, coming from a rather poor family in the country of Scotland. But he made sure he got to the championships and he made sure he won them.
I think his story inspired me in terms of determination like no other story has. You hear of real stories of people doing this great thing and people doing that great thing and I just think, Well its all very well for them, they are strong, they can achieve their goals, but I know I can never do that.
Perhaps it was because this story was about bikes.
Perhaps it was because of the way Graeme Obree shocked the world with his different bike.
Perhaps it was because he came from a poorish sort of family.
Perhaps it was because he showed all of the bad as well as the good.
Or perhaps it was because Graeme Obree suffered quite badly from schizophrenia.
His condition was partly a result of being the victim of horrible bullying as a child.
He was made to feel worthless, small and insignificant, a failure, not worth anyone’s times, a waste of space, by four boys who really just needed a self-esteem boost from picking on someone.
When you bully someone who already suffers from depression or schizophrenia or any other type of mental disease that can make one seem like a normal person sometimes, you just make it worse. Most of the time, they already feel like the biggest piece of fucking shit in the world. You don’t need to tell them on top of what they are already telling themselves that they should hate themselves.
Graeme’s disorder drove him to do things that a normal person wouldn’t do.
But I don’t like comparing him to a normal person.
After all, what is normal?
Anyway, I’ll admit, there were a few minutes of the movie that I didn’t watch.
They involved a rope hanging from a tree and a very depressed bullied boy who couldn’t take it anymore.
And I was out of the room.
Not because I don’t really like seeing gruesome things such as suicide.
But because I couldn’t stand seeing a little boy being bullied to the point of suicide.
To the point where he would rather die.
To the point where he wants it all to end.
To the point where the only person who can help him is himself.
I could not stand to watch him hang himself while I just did nothing.
I know I was watching a movie, and that it wasn’t real, and that I knew the little boy grew up to become a world champion bike rider.
But I couldn’t help think that most probably, somewhere in the world right now, someone is committing suicide. And I am doing nothing about it.
I could not understand why those bullies did what they did to that boy. Didn’t they see they were driving him insane? Didn’t they see what they were doing to him?
The answer to that is of course they did.
That’s why they were doing it.
They bullied him because he retaliated. For a normal person, a person without a disability, that’s not so bad. I mean, sure its still pretty bad, but its worse because Graeme couldn’t help but retaliate. That’s what is disability was. Schizophrenia means that a person cannot control their emotions. So Graeme could not control his anger when the other boys bullied him. He could not help but retaliate.
The thing I find sickening is that those boys bullied Graeme because they got a kick out of it. Who cares about how much they were hurting Graeme? Who cares about how they were making Graeme feel? They were happy and that’s all that mattered.
I cannot understand how someone would purposely hurt someone like that. I cannot understand how someone can be so selfish and not care about another person’s feelings. It’s disgusting and cruel and it sickens me.
I think in the end, it’s the bullies that have the mental disabilities, not their victims.
Graeme Obree inspired me.
To pull through and achieve your goals. To not let your emotions run away with you. To have determination. To not let anything get in the way of you doing what you want to.
But most of all, Graeme Obree inspired me to make sure that you control what you want to happen to you. Not anyone else, not other things, not your emotions, but your mind.
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