Thursday, May 21, 2009

Dilly Dally Delay. Pedal.

I feel like I should apologize to myself for not blogging in over a month.

Just to let myself know: you've had a real tough time these past weeks, Wil, but you're getting more on top of things, emotionally. You're being productive and making more art. You even wrote a song tonight; the one about your scent. Today you had a really nice time with a very handsome new friend and you weren't as awkward as you would have expected yourself to be. Though you totally rambled wayyyyyyyy toooooo muuuuuuch. You should try not do that next time you two hang out; maybe try talk about cool things like fixies and veganism and celebrities you've met. Don't talk about planets and what things make you cry tears of joy, 'kay? SICK.

The last month in dot points:
- Sexual Assault.
- Police reports.
- Shrink sessions. *disclaimer* i'm bigger than i was before.
- Loss of enthusiasm.
- Writer's block.
- Writer's un-block.
- Queer outrage.

I keep going out and meeting new people who are pretty nice and easy to chat to but you know how tiring it is telling people things about yourself? Yeah, it's like filling out a million quizes on facebook and/or myspace where most of the questions are actually the same, just worded different. Even questions that are asked by the one person within five minutes of talking.

It turned into Friday about two hours ago and I am supposed to be painting/sanding my mother's fence by 11:00. I'm pretty tired and I'm thinking about a conversation I had with Caitlin tonight about how I lay in bed in sleeping position but don't sleep until a few hours later when I realize that "sleeping position" is actually quite difficult to feel comfortable in when you're straining so much to stay still. I've had a real sore neck all today and yesterday, though it seems to be getting better. I slept wrong. (I dislike this term because I've never been taught how to sleep and I think it should just come naturally but I haven't so obviously I fail and sleep wrong quite often). My neck's been pinching like crazy when I move my head to an undefined angle which catches me off guard. This makes me not want to move at all so I know I will
have trouble falling asleep tonight. Sleeping is easier if you're moving.

Last night while way drunk, I thought that wearing shorts made me feel warmer than wearing pants because the juxtaposition between the temperature on my calves and the temperature on my thighs was a sure indication of how cold the air was in comparison to the rest of me. It was also a sure indication that I'm slowly losing my mind.

Wil, go to sleep.
Write something decent about lovehearts and feelings after the weekend.

x I have decided I want to meet pool sharks who are really good at flirting.

Monday, April 13, 2009

Being a boy apparently has expectations of growing into a man.

After weeks of feeling sick, I still do. I previously said that it felt like my ears were bleeding and hey guess what! It turns out that they were! The first dose of anti-biotics my doctor prescribed to me to fix my infected ears had a tiny little chemical that we didn't know I was allergic to until they wore down the walls of my eardrums. One morning I woke up (at my mother's house, where I'd been hiding and whinging for quite some time) to find blood all over my pillow. Being in the middle of my second puberty, I automatically assumed I'd busted a massive zit, thought nothing more of it, flipped my pillow over and went back to sleep. When I got up to wee a few hours later, I walked past the mirror and took a quick glance at myself. Then I had another take and looked at my hair. Theeeennnnnn I noticed I looked like little Timmy from Jurassic Park just after he'd been electrocuted because he wouldn't jump off that damn electric fence. Crusty blood just dribblin' out my ear holes.

So over the last ten days I haven't really been doing anything. I taught Bill Murray to lay down for food and he looks so so so confused while he does it. Snacking and laying down don't go together for him like they do for me. I spent a lot of time asleep and a lot of time wishing I were asleep. I lived off pancakes, wine and failed attempts of vegan omlettes. I watched a lot of lesbian themed coming-of-age movies from my mother's dvd collection and I thought a lot about my past.

I remember feeling so insecure about letting my mother know that I was dating a girl. I didn't know why I felt weird about it or why I didn't want her to know, because I knew she'd be fine with it (if not proud) because she thought I was female and she's pro lezza. I felt weird because the girls who I hung out with at underage gay things all had stories about when they came out to their parents. I'd look online and read other out of the closet stories and feel like I was supposed to tell my gay mums that I too was a lesbian (yes, that exact title) but didn't feel comfortable doing it.

So one day, 7 or so months into a relationship with my first real love, I came home to find mum baking biscuits in the kitchen. I ran through to the bathroom and shouted
"GEORGIE ASKED ME OUT TODAY", knowing that it was against the rules to talk to someone while they were on the toilet in that house. Without hesitation, my mother broke that rule she'd so sternly placed a good five years back and flung open the toilet floor while I was sitting to wee.
With that rebellious young streak that all teens have, I mumbled
"Fuck off mum, I'm not gay".

Mum used to complain a little to her friends with gay children about me never coming out to her properly. Since then, I've come out as a boy, a faggot, a queer, a tranny, a chubster and a slutforthemoney. I reckon I've made it up to her.

On Wednesday night I'm seeing Nikki Patin. SWOOON.

Thursday, April 2, 2009

Bill Murray.

probably my favourite boy ever and the only one i never stand up.

Srsly Fk.

I haven't been this sick in five million brazillion hours. My ears feel like they're bleeding and the only things I can swallow are delicious iceypoles made by very un-delicious companies. My nose is starting to clear up though, which is real nice, because I hadn't felt that clogged since when I would eat like 394790432293 dairy products a day. Last night I was giving myself my shot but I was shaking way too much so Melissa helped out (She was at my house because I nagged her for about five hours to bring me lemonade. Nice lady, nice lady). It was the most stressful event of my day. I broke the vial with my left thumb and glass shattered and went everywhere, including into me.

Melissa distracted me from my throbbing headache by discussing other things that made me throb. We talked about the hot boys in our life and how she's always read as straight. I talked about the boy I asked on a date when I was out clubbing and stood him up the next day because I had no recolection of him thanks to binge drinking. After Melissa'd gone home, I watched some pilates infomercials and felt bad about my body so went to bed. When I woke up this morning (at about 8) I put Bill Murray outside and had a wee then went back to bed. I re-woke up to thunder and lightening and rain and hail and the house half flooded and a very grumpy dalmation (too dumb to figure out how to use his kennel) looking in through the window at me, soaking wet.

Bill Murray looks heaps weird when he's wet because all of his spots that are on his skin but not on his coat, show through and he looks like a multi-layered creature. Kinda like if you wet a marble spongecake and squish it a bit. He's all kinda grey and dirty looking. He's currently on the couch next to me, having a dream. Little barks and a lot of running. I love him so much. I feel real bad that I slept so late and that he had to be outside in the storm. He seems fine now though.

I feel like crap. I'm gonna curl up, watch Oprah and most probably get annoyed at it. I think it's a make-over special. If I hear one comment about "hiding fat" or losing weight, I'm going to kill someone. Holy crap. As I typed that, Oprah said something about the clothes draping around your body, no matter what your size. Fuck that.

Srsly Fk.

I can't stop crying.

Monday, March 30, 2009

oh and p.s. wil, this is how you feel right now.

here we go again.

Tonight I'm so tired that I'm googling which of the main characters in The L Word are actually gay in real life. I have no idea why I give a shit. Actually, I don't give a shit, I'm just sleepy. Tina is bisexual but married to a man. Everything about the stuff I've read makes me feel kind of sick. My newest housemate has been watching episodes of season one and three in non-chronological order since he moved in. I think it's because he's in a musical and needs to switch off.

I really enjoy him.
Today he fell in love.

"I went to the bakery and asked the boy behind the counter what was in the quishe. He said bacon and egg. I asked for some and he asked me if I wanted it heated it up. I said yeah."

All I ever think about is stickin' it to the man, how much I think I'm stuffing my education further by not reading every possible book in the world (but shoving them down my throat) and fashion. Colour co-ordination never goes out of style but man, I wish it would.

I have had the busiest, most mind-screwing weekend. I don't think I'm okay but I know I will be. I'm "stepping back and looking at the situation" which is actually making me feel quite calm. I spoke to one of my favourite people in the whole world on the telephone as he drove to work. I reckon I'll sleep alright tonight. It's about fucking time.