chrasy

persuasion.

Mon, 22 Feb 2010 01:01:12 +1100

Persuasion is my favourite Austen novel. Pride and Prejudice is overrated, Sense and Sensibility is lovely yet distant and Emma is hopeless mess that I can never finish.

Persuasion hits home the most. Anne has the stupidity of Emma, the common sense of Elinor and the spunk of Elizabeth and I hate her and love her and cry for her every time I read the book. I hate all of her lost chances and for god’s sake, to put it frankly: I don’t want to be Anne. I love her, but I don’t want to be her.

I wanted to do things, just like Anne did (even though we probably don’t want the same kinds of things) But still, I wanted all sorts of things. Things like singing and writing and translating. Things that I thought I would love enough so that the passion would keep me interested for a lifetime. I got shot down, because I either a) didn’t have the talent, despite my work ethic b) wouldn’t make any money or c) both a and b. Or maybe I just didn’t love them enough. That’s always something that I think about; maybe I just didn’t love what I thought I wanted so much.

Even if I wanted to work hard and give it everything I had, I was told that it wouldn’t work. It’s not like I have perpetual rain clouds above my head, I’m not cursed and I don’t walk under ladders, so why was I convinced that what I wanted would never work? Never is not something anyone can really say with any degree of certainty, especially in regards to the future, and I said it anyway. However, for me to say “I was told”, “I was convinced” or even “I was manipulated” implies that someone else did it to me. No. I did it to myself. Other people might have done the persuading but I made the choice, the final blow.

I know that everyone already knows this, but I’m scared. Not just because of tomorrow and next week, but because I’m scared that I don’t love anything enough. Or maybe I do, but I’ll let other people tell me that my “love” isn’t enough. I know other eighteen year olds and they seem to have so much passion and desire for at least one thing in their lives, be it politics or veganism or pop culture and I get scared that my love for something is not enough to rival someone else’s.

I’m scared that nothing about me is enough and that I’ll just change and change and change for everyone else, but not for myself.

only.

Sun, 21 Feb 2010 16:39:00 +1100

So the past week has been work, work, party, party, party, pack, pack.

I’m starting: to feel uncomfortable.
I already: feel worried, nervous and worst of all, subdued. I know I said I wasn’t anxious before, but hey now, I move tomorrow. I’m not calm, I’m clammy.

I’ve packed up as much stuff as is logical to take to Sydney. Unfortunately logic prevents me from squashing all of my friends and possessions into a car and re-planting them in city cement.

It’s just me, only me. I’m scared, I’m scared, I’m scared, I’m scared.

progression.

Sat, 13 Feb 2010 03:39:00 +1100

So, I’m moving out on the 22nd and it doesn’t quite make sense to me. I feel neither anxious nor excited; it simply seems to be a natural progression. I felt worse when I was trying to find a place to stay, I didn’t feel anything when I chose my lectures and tutorials and I sure as hell don’t feel like packing right now.

identity.

Sat, 13 Feb 2010 03:35:29 +1100

[If it doesn’t go, then it doesn’t become, and it transforms into a must]

I think that certain things have become expected of me and whatever identity I have created. I’m trying to divorce myself from these expectations. A little distance between me, and what they think I am, would be quite nice right about now.

creepster returns!

Thu, 11 Feb 2010 16:45:18 +1100

Creep: Hello Tracey
Me: Errr.... Hello.
Creep: I'd er, like to make a booking for Wednesday.
Me: Okay.
Creep: I will thoroughly peruse your menu then, on the Wednesday, the 17th of February 2010.
Me: ....Okay, I'll just put you in
Creep: Because last time I didn't really look at the menu.
Me: That's all right.
Creep: What are those on the walls there? They look like, like, l-l-l-like...
Me: They're tigers. Because it's the year of the tiger. Chinese New Year is on Sunday.
Creep: That's the same day as Valentines Day! Now, tell me Tracey, you don't have to elaborate on this but what are your plans for Valentines day?
Me: I have to go now. *hides in kitchen*

what is this

Tue, 09 Feb 2010 11:47:00 +1100

a photo reply thing for ants?

lolz.

things from before.

Tue, 09 Feb 2010 00:57:00 +1100

In Queen Victoria Building, the smell of waffles filled the air. There were so many legs, long and brown, stretching out below unaffected faces.

(It’s terribly easy to be overlooked. That may be what I like about Sydney, but on the other hand, I’m sure parts of me want to stand out.)

Town Hall station is an extension of hell. Its humid platforms and tunnels are breeding grounds for body odour and sweat. The poor children in blazers, trousers and tights are defeated. There was hair everywhere, plastered unattractively to foreheads and napes of necks.

(Always act as if someone is watching you. Even on impossibly hot train platforms. Someone will see you, even if it’s just from the corner of their eye.)

Inside the train, there was rustling. Newspaper pages folding and scrunching and turning.

The gentle jolting of t he t rai n be ats an i nconst ant r hythm in to t hi ghs an d l owe r ba c ks an d headslollandeyesdroopandsleep, imsosleepy.

(I heard that good writers are good watchers, but I just… I just had to close my eyes…)

I keep staring at "Add a Text Post"

Tue, 09 Feb 2010 00:02:00 +1100

and I’m wondering if in the past thousand posts, I’ve given rise to anything beautiful from text boxes and blankness.

For everything you’re read, up until now, thank you very much.

taste.

Mon, 08 Feb 2010 23:57:06 +1100

Metallic gladiator sandals, unflattering dress and unnatural orange-brown skin?

Well, if that is his preference, what could I possibly do to dissuade him from it? Of course I can’t do anything! But I refuse to pander, or to change; after all, my own taste prevents me from turning into exactly what he likes.

plain.

Sat, 06 Feb 2010 00:42:45 +1100

I am plain of face, of mannerisms, I am of very little interest to people. (I wonder why I blog?) I have very little charisma, I am awkward and even now, I hate that I can’t be charming and delightful and beautiful.

Yet on the days where I have somewhat peacefully reconciled with my “unbeauty”, I figure that I don’t want to be around people that can’t love it.

(Pity life makes me throw myself into situations where people aren’t obliged at all to love any part of me, whether I am pleasing or not.)

okay fuck that.

Sat, 30 Jan 2010 16:35:57 +1100

I’m not lonely, I’m just sick to my stomach from worry with finding a place to live, looking for that elusive job and pissed off with working 30 hour weeks at the job I already have.

jlghdlfjhgakl;djhgflajhdfgalkjhfdklgajhdf I just want to lay in bed.

lonely.

Sat, 30 Jan 2010 07:06:52 +1100

Tonight the moon is dazzlingly bright and the clouds moved quickly across it. I leaned against the wall outside, at 12:36am, and wanted to cry. What do I think loneliness is? In standing out there by myself, alone, what I was feeling at the time, was it loneliness?

I suppose some people think it a lack of romantic love. I try not to give too much thought to my own love life (which is actually pretty easy most of the time, since it doesn’t exist) but when I do think about it, I want it. Then I feel vulgar for wanting it when I know I can survive perfectly without it. If lack of love makes one lonely or not, I can live in its absence.

salty souls.

Sat, 30 Jan 2010 00:45:40 +1100

I think that if I were to look closely enough, most members of my family would have soy sauce stains on their souls. I think the trail that it left, as it dripped across the invisible planes of our souls will forever be marked.

creepster is creepy.

Fri, 29 Jan 2010 00:56:45 +1100

Creep: Is your name Tracey?
Me: (in sweet, accommodating, hospitality industry honed voice) Yes it is.
Creep: With an e in it?
Me: Yes, why?
Creep: Nooooo. Oh noooooo. *shaking his head like it's the worse thing in the world.*
Me: Okay, I'll just go take this other customer's order...
Creep: *puts chewed gum onto table*
Me: *stares horrified*
Creep (to other waitress): I've got to go now... But tell Tracey I'll be back later...
Me: *hides in kitchen*

Complaints Choir of Tokyo Awesome, but no comment on the...

Fri, 29 Jan 2010 00:50:54 +1100

Complaints Choir of Tokyo

Awesome, but no comment on the whales/dolphins thing!

it's not, I swear!

Thu, 28 Jan 2010 22:12:00 +1100

I have two, ahem, blemishes on my neck that makes it look suspiciously like a vampire has tried to suck my blood.

I am terrified that someone in the redneck town that I live in will mistake me for a twi-tard, call me “comrade” and drag me away to discuss the finer points of being bitten by a vampire and analyse the “hotness” of Robert Pattinson in the latest movie. Help!

caring.

Tue, 19 Jan 2010 02:49:00 +1100

Sometimes I get thrown into a group of certain people who know shallow things about me. “Congratulations on your marks,” they say, and it just feels wrong. Or, “I heard from someone that this happened.” “Thanks,” or “Yeah, it did,” I murmur and then quickly retreat, away where I can look busy and focussed on something else. I don’t know a thing about these people and I don’t like that they pretend to know me. I don’t know their names. To me, they are so-and-so’s cousin, or what’s-his-name’s brother in law. I don’t ask them their names, firstly because they assume that I already know them and secondly because I know I will forget.

Other times these people catch me out, and ask me more questions. “Where are you going? What do you plan to study? What do you want to do?” Different mouths form the same words. I repeat the answers so many times you’d think that it would have spread by now and everyone would already know. “I’m going to university. I’ll do a double degree. I’ll travel the world.” It still feels wrong, because what I really want to reply with is “I don’t want to tell you, I don’t want to waste my breath on words you’ll forget.” I don’t want to perpetuate conversation, that is what I hate about polite conversation. It forces me to pretend that I care, but who can care for people that don’t care for them? I’m no good at feigning interest and people can recognise that in me, so why do they persist? They don’t care about what I’m going to study and they don’t care where and why and what I want out of it. It is wrong that these people act like they want to, but courtesy dictates that they must.

But similarly and even more disgustingly, it is wrong of me to play along with their pretence in the name of politeness.

日本のコト: Things about Japan

Sun, 17 Jan 2010 06:43:00 +1100

I will miss:

Practicing my Japanese every day with enthusiastic retail assistants who think that by speaking to me in English and smiling widely while I rape their language will make me buy another shirt at 7000 yen. It won’t. But thanks for helping me practice anyway!
Heated toilet seats. By now, you should all know how much I love them, but I don’t think you all really know just what it’s like to wake up in the ~~morning~~ afternoon, when it’s two degrees and then sit on a lovely, welcoming toilet.
The insanely regular and punctual train services. Shinkansen are amazing. They are 300km/h of pure awesomeness, speeding from one end of the country to the other. All trains are on time. All trains have heated seats. All trains are comfortable. I will return to Australia and think “WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?” when I catch a CityRail train in NSW.
Insanely cheap EVERYTHING. Sure my airfare here basically offsets the cheapness of everything (and so will the freaking $22USD per kilogram that I will probably have to pay for overweight baggage) but it would be impossible for me to buy CDs for $3 and manga for $4 in Australia. And three pairs of tights for less than $10! All of this makes me think Australia overprices everything ridiculously! Can you blame me for going overboard?
Download speeds at 800kbps. Really Australia, you are so behind the times. Kevin, instead of filtering my internet, can you just make it faster?

I will not miss:

Pressing the wrong buttons on the technologically advanced toilets and having water squirt up my bum in an unpleasant way. Or, having the toilets flush at random, thinking I am finished with my business and once again, spraying water all over my backside.
Looking like the most unfashionable person that ever existed. NOBODY WEARS JEANS AND A T-SIHRT HERE! Everybody is wearing a million stylish layers, their hair is absoutely perfect and their makeup is generally flawless. How can a country collectively look so good?
Having to run around all of Shinjuku, looking for an ATM that accepts foreign cards. For a country so electronically “with it”, they sure do carry insane amounts of cash around. Why don’t people use cards more? Why can’t I get cash out? Why do no ATMs take my MasterCard?!?!
Living out of a suitcase. This isn’t a gripe about Japan, this is a gripe about travelling in general! I hate suitcases! I hate that there is a weight restriction on baggage!

When all is said and done, I am very, genuinely aware of how lucky I am to have been able to travel here — Lucky to have the money, lucky that my parents trusted me enough, lucky to have been able to experience everything I saw, ate, smelled and heard. The things I hate about Japan aren’t even real hates! It has honestly been amazing but I still remember that I have another life; In two days, I have to throw myself back into it. I have a university offer to accept, accommodation to look for, a job to find and new people to meet! Hopefully I can take a little of Japan’s brilliance back home with me, in my heart, and use it as a reminder of how awesome things actually are. 未来へ、一生懸命ガンバリマス！

Pulling an all-nighter in my hostel room in Tokyo, so I can...

Sun, 17 Jan 2010 06:18:00 +1100

Pulling an all-nighter in my hostel room in Tokyo, so I can sleep like a baby on the plane back home. Excuse my nutty hair, I haven’t brushed it in days, making me the hobo-iest looking teenager in all of metropolitan Tokyo.

As you can see, I’m doing my best Japanese tourist pose: Self taught, but refined and almost perfected, simply by watching the locals. Oh yeahhhhhhh.

horrified.

Thu, 14 Jan 2010 17:19:00 +1100

Two female friends were visiting me in my hometown and I was taking them around all the little trinkety stores and such, cooing over necklaces, when I was approached by a friend-almost-more-than-a-friend.

“Let’s go for a walk,” he suggested. I agreed and we went along the dirty road where trees blocked most views of the shimmering river nearby. We were walking towards his house, though it was still a while away.

I don’t remember what we talked about. It was probably random, probably inconsequential and all us. Until he said, “You know my girlfriend is visiting, right?” I nodded, mumbled an “mmmhmmmm” and looked straight ahead.

We crunched across leaves in silence until a splash and an awful scream came from the river. I looked across at him, and from his face I could see, that he knew who it was.

(Why did he leave his girlfriend to take a walk with me? Why were we walking towards his house?)

He shot off and pushed through the trees and I chased after him, and together, we saw her with an awful slash across her abdomen, scrambling around in the river, trying to escape her attacker. “It’s them!” I hissed, referring to members of a family that lived nearby. They had grabbed a hold of his girlfriend, and her movements were slowing down, she had lost so much blood.

“Call the police!” I whispered.

“By the time they get here, she could be dead already!” He pulled at my hand and ran in the direction of their house. I called them as we ran, anyway.

Their house was empty when we arrived, and we hid in an out of the way closet, praying that they wouldn’t open it. They returned home soon, quietly, the only sounds were their boots thumping across the wooden floor, and occasional grunts and heavy breathing.

We burst out of the closet, and instinctively, I ran into the kitchen. I saw it first and threw up violently.

Her head was in a baking tray, covered in brown spices and soaking in some sort of curry marinade, eyes open wide in fright. Her torso was in a bigger one, looking like it was going to be roasted later on. The oven was on, preheating and making the small kitchen uncomfortably warm. All members of the family looked at me in surprise and recoiled at my sick on the floor.

Friend-almost-more-than-a-friend came in behind me and let out an agonised groan at the disgusting sight.

“GET OUT OF HERE!” I shrieked, turning around to escape, spit flying everywhere. “GET OUT, OR THEY’LL EAT US TOO!”

I dragged him away, it was so draining and heartbreaking. From his resistance, it felt as if he wanted to be murdered and eaten too. “Let’s go, let’s go! There’s nothing we can do for her anymore!” I wondered why the family wasn’t chasing after us, but all I heard was the matriarch cackling wildly.

Then, sirens. As we ran out the front door, police shoved in.

I collapsed onto the lawn and screamed.

————

I wonder why I remember this dream so damn clearly, when it terrifies me. The night before, I had a beautiful dream, that I remember only a single sentence from.