Summer Holidays: Life in a Nutshell

It’s been a while since I’ve posted. I admit, I have been lazy, but this isn’t going to turn into a blog about how I never seem to post on a regular basis. When a blog does reach this limit, I’m certain that it’s an indicator to the author that it’s time to move on to bigger and better things. But I digress, the reason I haven’t bothered to post is because I’ve been busy – which is no more suprising to you as it is to me.

Hence, life in a nutshell.

Can I say it’s been bad? Or should I say life has been peachy? It’s been a little bit of both. But that’s what life is: you give a little, you take a little. There have been as many “downs” as there have been “ups” – and quite frankly I’m not complaining.

December:
The last thing I posted for this month was about Music Night and whether or not it was worth the effort expended. In the end I came to the conclusion that with everything I do; I do things because I want to make people happy. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not one of those people who’s dependent on other people for my own happiness. I genuinely like to see the people I care about happy because of something I did. Which remains true even to this day.

What else? I skipped out on several days of school – but not for the reasons you may think. After a year’s worth of abuse to my body – that is, late nights followed up by break-of-dawn mornings – I collapsed into a continual cycle of fatigue. Therefore, it makes sense that my mindset was something along the lines of “Think of a way to cope with a lack of sleep”. The most obvious answer: sleep more – which is harder than  you think in this day and age. So to the distress of my regular MSN buddies, I’ve cut back on the late-night chatting and the manga binges. In fact, I think my whole chatting boycott occured around the same time my family killed my net and I had to learn how to wire up my computer to my internet modem. A handy skill to learn, especially when one doesn’t know what kind of cable to use for the purpose.

Christmas was a strange day. I can’t say that I enjoyed it, but spending time with my family and relatives was fun. I had a few disappointmenting moments that day: first during the midnight mass when a drunk crashed the mass and poured beer onto the floor, and second when a friend challenged the very reasons why I respected her. I racked up a rather voluptuous phone bill by texting alone – disregarding the traditional mass messaging on the eve of Christmas and then later on New Year’s Eve.

January:
I remember this month well. It was the month that I went to John’s party; the month that began with my not talking to my mother; the month of fighting for my freedom; and the month that Theresa came over to jam. My brother, dad and grandpa left Australia that month to visit the Philippines. My grandpa met with my mother’s side of the family, was taken care of and petted by my relatives. My dad had reunited with friends he hadn’t seen in almost eighteen years. Some of his old friends were so astounded by his return, that they were reduced to tears. And finally, my brother returned to his place of birth, rekindling his memories of his early childhood, and making new ones to compensate.

I learned that being lonely is a terrible feeling – and making someone else feel that way is just as bad. And in doing so, learned that playing games should not occupy the majority of my day. I witnessed myself losing my temper on many more occasions than I was used to, and realised with a pang, that pride is not a great trait to posess. Pride makes you stubborn and stubbornness only makes your arguments hot-tempered and heavy.

There were times during January when I wished for more, wished for less and wished to just feel like I could make everyone happy like I had the previous month.

February:
The beginning of school: the first day for the rest of my senior life. I’ve been promoted to white, the colour of seniority and prestige at my humble school of population 1100. I resolved my issues of the month just passed, composed a song and discovered a change of perspective – no pun intended.

In terms of school, Music lost out to Chemistry and Modern History lost a friend for Engineering Studies. And while I lick my wounds of choices beyond my control, I’ll rediscover the true magic of Valentine’s Day – where in previous years, I have not thought of as so highly. Did anyone influence the change? Well yes, as all change begins with a catalyst – to quote an infamous figure of my school life. I look forward to the next year, when I try to overlook the commercialised view of the holiday we are expected to support.

The goals I set for the New Year, flew straight of my head and into my Recycle Bin as the habits of the spent year come flooding back. Late nights, early mornings, frequent sleep-ins revealed just how tiring a lifestyle we all live – and monotonously I might add. I want do make my own way to school, but it’s just not happening with fatigue, slowly but surely catching up to me once more.

Well there you have it: my life in the last unblogged months in a nutshell. Have I changed? Have I grown? Possibly. One thing’s for sure is that peachy and bubbly isn’t always the healthiest way to see life. Sometimes seeing through the sinister times, or possibly the low-lights makes you wonder what your purpose really is. I don’t consider my time wasted, I consider the time I’ve spent learning more about myself. After all, there was only myself to entertain me when friends were out of reach and a something-much-more left badly scorned of neglect.

Summer holidays are an interesting thing.

Boys Like Girls

If a girl asks a boy, “Why do you like me?”, there is no simple answer. I want to ask that question, but he’s not around to answer. So instead I hunted down the chain mail he sent me, the one about why boys fall in love with girls – and maybe I won’t feel so sad.

Why do boys fall in love with girls?

1. They will always smeel good, even if its just shampoo
2. The way their heads always find the right spot on our shoulder
3. How cute they look when they sleep
4. The ease in which they fit into our arms
5. They way they kiss you and all of a sudden everything is right in the world
6. How cute they are when they eat
7. The way they take hours to get dressed but in the end it makes it all worthwhile
8. Because they are always warm even when its minus 30 outside
9. The way they look good no matter what they wear
10. The way they fish for compliments even though you both know that you think she’s the most beautiful girl on this earth
11. How cute they are when they argue
12. The way her hand always finds yours
13. The way they smile
14. The way you feel when you see their name on Caller ID after you’ve just had a big fight
15. The way she says, “Let’s not fight anymore”, even though you know that an hour later…
16. The way that they kiss you after you’ve had a fight
17. The way that they kiss you when you say, “I love you”
18. Actually, just the way they kiss you…
19. The way they fall into your arms when they cry
20. Then the way the apologise for crying over something that silly
21. The way they hit you and expect it to hurt
22. Then the way they apologise when it does hurt (even though we don’t admit it!)
23. The way they say, “I miss you”
24. The way you miss them
25. The way their tears make you want to change the world so that it doesn’t hurt her anymore

Was It Worth It?

It’s 10:28 on a Thurdsay morning – and I’m blogging. Anyone sense something wrong with this picture? My goody-two-shoes instincts are kicking in and making me feel guilty for not attending school. But could you possibly blame me if every muscle in my legs are aching, my head spinning like a drinking party gone wrong and my fingers, well, numb. Don’t even get me started on the state of my ass. Where was I last night? Well I wasn’t out hardcore partying – which would be plain stupidity considering that it was a school night! – I was actually performing at my school’s Music Night. The real quetsion now is: was it worth all that trouble?

I’ll let you ponder that question. But if you’re sitting there and thinking, “What the hell is Music Night?”, I’ll tell you. It’s Sefton’s underground concert: it’s invite only and the only way you’ll ever hear about it is if you’re invited or part of the damn thing. Now if you’re really smart you would have heard a whisper of it if you bothered to listen to the mundane morning notices or walked past the hall yesterday afternoon.

For those in my music class, I congratulate you. Firstly for surviving a Music Night dress rehearsal. I can’t vouch for all each member of my class, but for a majority of the Year 10 performers, last night was their very first night. Last night might have been an englightening experience for you, I won’t share in your delight: I’ve been through what we’ve gone through for a total of three times. Coming out alive after spending at least two periods with short-circuited staff is a skill in itself. Not that said staff were doing it on purpose; I’m sure that the pressure of putting a concert must have been driving them crazy. But back to my Year 10 class, if you didn’t enjoy the rehearsal at least you have next year to look forward to: there probably won’t be another Music Night until we’re in Year 12.

I also want to congratulate everyone in my Music class who performed. I’m sure playing the same songs over and over for the last 8 weeks has not been the best time of your life. We might have gotten practical lessons for the rest of the year but I swear to you all that if I so much as hear the words “leave me alone I’m lonely” or “sometimes I wish I could save you” for the rest of the year I will hunt you down and hang you from your extremeties outside my window.

I’m actually quite thankful that I don’t have to put so much effort into practical lessons now as I have temporary lost the ability to feel sensations at the tops of my fingers on my left hand. I dare you to try it out: go get a sharp object and poke at my fingers: I would feel the pressure, but I wouldn’t feel the stabbing pain. And it’s not only my fingers. I can finally give my shoulders a break. You could not have missed me bringing my guitar almost every day of the week; I assure you it was more work than pleasure than lugging around a guitar from Blacktown from Sefton. And then there were days when I brought my bass…

So, was Music Night really worth it? Was it worth all the pain, the monotonous music practices, the long trips home and the sleepless nights of worry and anxiety? Has the thought of losing feeling to the tops of my fingers, overcoming a jarred finger (which has not yet healed) and sore wrists and legs worth overlooking in the hopes of performing for one night and one night only? In my opinion, yes it was. Because making music is what makes me happy, and even if I’m suffering, I don’t think I could ever let it go. Despite all the pain, the arguments and the blunders, Music Night was the one night I’ve been looking forward to all year – even more so than my birthday – because seeing people’s faces light up in joy or appreciation means the world to me, especially when I’m part of the reason of why they’re happy.

As for now, I think I’ll enjoy the silence while it lasts.

Summertime

As a new onslaught of couples enters the Sefton scene I would like to point out a few discrepancies I have with… just about everyone. I’m at liberty to tell whoever I want about whether or not I’m in a relationship or not. I alone have the right to choose who do or do not know about my relationships. Quite frankly, whether or not you feel “cut” or “left out” is not my concern because I don’t you exhibited an ounce of consideration towards my own feelings. So forgive me if I have not clued you in about my latest partner: it’s nothing personal. However, saying “I’m not talking to you because you didn’t tell me” is.

For the record, I am not permanently attached to my partner either. I don’t spend every waking moment occupying his time or him to my own despite the many accusations. Again, who I spend to choose my time with is not your concern; it’s mine, and if you think for one minute anything you have to say about will change my social life, you’ve got another thing coming. If I reverse our roles, what do you think I’d say? Can’t I play the victim and say: “If you want me to spend time with you, why don’t you come out and say so?”. But then again, I guess you’d play it safe: complain about it casually, mock me, in the process and disregard my presence altogether. That, unfortunately, is not acceptable either.

And while I have steam, may I also take the time to remind you that I’m an individual entity. I don’t appreciate – not now, not ever – to be referred to “his” woman or as part of a two for one deal. I already get that enough by being a twin and even then I’m barely tolerant of it. I’ll make it nice and simple: before I was dating, my name was Franchesca, and guess what, now that I’m dating someone it still is! Not that I should explain myself, but at least I extend an ounce of respect towards you by bothering to remember your name; but since you’ve seem to be suffering from a momentary memory lapse, perhaps I should forget your name just as casually as well?

Now, if you have something to refute, by all means do so. I’m in the mood for a challenge, and it sure beats talking about it behind my back. In fact, I’ll even get you started. For example, if you have a problem with me hugging my boyfriend, you can come and tell me. Contrary to popular belief, I am not part of a secret mafia and will not use my supposed “influence” over certain groups to make you appear non-existent. I’m not that petty: but I can be if you make it so. Another example? If you’re frustrated that I’m spending time with my boyfriend; talk to me – but I’d appreciate it if you think it over first. It might save an argument or two. But I guess you can always walk away from me, right?

I have one word for you guys: smooth!

W H I T E F L A G

 I am a hopeless romantic. It’s not an entirely new idea, but apparently admitting to being something is the first step of self-appreciation – right? For my poor unfortunate friends, you have probably witnessed an onslaught of “heart-heart” attacks – which usually involve curling my fingers in a heart shape around my chest in a flamboyant manner – accompanied by the words, “RONAN and KELLER!”. I believe the other day, superficialcynic said something about getting a life, or at least a life that doesn’t obsessively revolve around Stargate – or was it fatmannz?

Nevertheless, my latest Stargate: Atlantis Season Four shipping antics have compelled me to write and publish my very first fan fiction. I think the last time I ever wrote a fan fiction was about early last year, but I never got around to finishing it so it does count. The only time I did complete a fan fiction was way back in 2005, and for keen Harlequin fanatics, you’ll notice the correlation with another one of my periodic obsessions – this time with Simple Plan. Unfortunately, even then I didn’t publish it: only because I was far too preoccupied with other things to type up eleven pages of handwritten work. Not exactly a picnic for anyone I can imagine. Therefore, because of all the technicalites – and don’t you just love that pedantic word? – I have finally published my very first fan fiction.

(If you’re feeling up to sampling the bit of fluff that I’ve written, the story’s called All Bets are Off. And since you’re there please review!)

Fan fictions aside, the year ten formal is fast approaching and for some strange reason I seem to be stressing. I’m somehow out of my element about some trivial event that involves dolling up and dancing the night away – and the feeling is strange indeed. Apparently the dress that I plan on wearing is exactly the same dress that my friend wore to mini-golf. Now because of my inconvenient insecurities I’m spent the better half of my day contemplating on buying another dress – obviously disregarding my need to buy a pair of shoes that actually match the dress that I have.

Unfortunately my inhibitions do not end there. The defining point of my attendance to the year ten formal was based on the assumption that my best friend would be there. To my displeasure, I found out last week that he would not be attending because he gave away his ticket spot to somebody who wasn’t responsible enough to check whether or not his formal money made it to the right people. So the question is do I go, or do I skip out just because the one person that I wanted to be there is not going?

I’ll leave my post short. There’s very little that I have to say.