deviantART: by:crypticpoet

Make This Go On Forever ...

~crypticpoet — Tue, 14 Nov 2006 02:01:37 PST

Snow Patrol : 'Make This Go On Forever'

_{Please don't let this turn into something it's}not

_{I can only give you e v e r y t h i n g I've got

I can't be as sorry as you} think_{I should

But I still love you more than anyone else} could

_{All that I keep thinking throughout this whole flight

Is 'it could take my whole damn life to make this right ...'

This splintered mast I'm holding on won't save me long

Because I know fine well that} what I did was wrong

_{The last girl and the last}reason_{to make this last for as long as I

could

First k i s s and the first time that I felt connected to anything

The weight of water, the way you told me to look}past_{everything I had

ever learned

The final word in the final sentence you ever uttered to me was l o v e.

We have got through so much}worse_{than this before

What's so}different_{this time that you can't i g n o r e?

You say it is much more than just my last}mistake_{And we should spend some time apart for}both our sakes

_{The last girl and the last}reason_{to make this last for as long as I

could

First k i s s and the first time that I felt connected to anything

The weight of water, the way you told me to look}past_{everything I had

ever learned

The final word in the final sentence you ever uttered to me was l o v e.

And I don't know}where to look_{My words just b r e a k and m e l t

Please just save me from this}darkness_.

--

Why on earth does Snow Patrol seem to be relating to me so much lately? I don't even need to explain that song. That's pretty much ... how it is. 'Make This Go On Forever','Chasing Cars', 'You Could Be Happy' . . . wow. They all just click in, as if they define me. Hm.

- L -

~crypticpoet — Wed, 16 Aug 2006 05:10:26 PDT

Intense.

Anti-climax enough for you?

Feelings...thoughts...lot.

~crypticpoet — Mon, 19 Jun 2006 04:19:19 PDT

I don't know what it is. I guess it's just a process, maybe? The way it makes me tremble when I think about it. I find it scary how sometimes I can't even identify with my own emotions. I don't know what I'm feeling or why, which makes it difficult when people confide in me. They ask why and I answer "why not?" instead of some profound, deep explanation.

My entire book was summarized to me today by a friend of mine who is going through something. She said to me,
"All this...everything that is happening...has made me realize...that we're just children playing adult games. We're doing things we aren't ready for."
Yes. Yes. YES. That is entirely what Catalyst is about.

Now I'm at a stage where I'm figuring out what I'm about. Figuring out how to control the off-balance these recent events have thrown me into. At one stage I'll be calm and collected, but an objects reminds me of a memory which reminds me of a memory which reminds me of a memory and...suddenly I'm back there, and I'm scared and confused. It's hard to know sometimes...whether or not you're safe...not from...anyone, really....just yourself?

I dunno. It's annoying. All those things that I felt and said that don't seem to matter anymore. Not at all. Time wasted? Time lost...time worth losing? Who knows. Time will tell.

The Catalyst

~crypticpoet — Wed, 14 Jun 2006 16:20:10 PDT

So now I'm stuck at school, in a Study Period, with a Uniform Detention for wearing the incorrect sports pants. I have not had a detention for years.
...
I feel really bad now.

--

It's that feeling of knowing that you can never have nothing to do; because you've got so much work to do...but you feel the compelling desire to leave it alone. Not because you're sad or annoyed with it...but because you simply can't be bothered. It's always starting that is the problem. Once I start, I find it very difficult to stop; but I also find it very difficult to start.

It seems everybody is breaking up with everybody; or being turned down by somebody lately. Relationships are going downhill. Cassie and Simon, Mick and Sarah, Rachel and ... I think his name is also Simon; Oliver and Holly...myself...
I wonder what it is. Something about June-July. Even I have recently--and unknowningly--broken a heart.
Weirdly enough, it doesn't mean all that much to me. Maybe I'm just focused on other things. Maybe I'm not ready. And it's odd, but for once, all these "maybe's" that are running through my head aren't quite so scary. Maybe this is the change I was waiting for? The change I was praying for...not just the external change, but the change within myself...
Change...as in...
Good-bye to cynicism.
Good-bye to paranoia.
Good-bye to angst.
Good-bye to unyeilding anger.
Good-bye to my grudges.
Hello acceptance.

I've been going to bed earlier, and sleeping better too. I was in bed this morning...
6:55am.
I opened my eyes to face the purple wall that was the right-hand side of my bedroom. Frustrated by the early morning sunlight that flooded into my room every time I forgot to close my blinds, I rolled over to face it.
I never close my bamboo curtain at night anymore, because it's broken; and I had it in such a way where it stayed curled up at the roof and wouldn't fall. Last night I took it down to shield the noise coming from my room because I was recording.
This morning, painted on that curtain, was a pink heart. A pink heart of sunlight. Somehow my blinds had shaped the morning sunlight in such a way that it shaped as a heart on my curtain.
"Take a photo." was my first thought as I eyed my camera sitting on my desk about two meters away.
"I'm so tired, though." Was my second.
"This moment may never come again." was the third, and on that thought, I got up into the cold and took a photo.

And it's so true. I may never capture some of my most treasured moments ever again...the cliche carries more meaning than what I originally thought.
...
I actually can't think of the cliche at present.

Like right now.
In this moment....I may never have it again.

And I hopefully may never have a detention again.

Erased.

~crypticpoet — Sun, 14 May 2006 03:47:14 PDT

And he'll tell you.

He'll tell you that he's always there for you, that he always has been there for you, and while he makes those empty promises you're sitting there absorbing it, taking it in, slowly being fed the mindless obscurity that feeds your melancholy; because in truth you just have no idea. You have absolutley no idea.

And for sixteen years, you're the criminal. You're the one who is in the wrong; you're the one who has caused him all the pain; you're the one who needs to pick up the phone and dial those eight digits that allow you to hear his ever-so-distant voice echoing at the other end; almost soundlessly.
Reception?
Emotion?
Deception?
Yes.
You've been decieved. For sixteen freaking years, you've been decieved.

He lied that he loved you.

He lied that he's there for you.

He lied about every single little thing that he ever told you.

What sort of reality is that?

Reality?

The reality is that you've finally woken up. And you will never forgive him.

You bastard. I will never forgive you.

A Moment...

~crypticpoet — Wed, 03 May 2006 04:21:20 PDT

UNDEROATH - A MOMENT SUSPENDED IN TIME.

_{Maybe we

Why dont we

Sit right here for half an hour

Well speak of what a waste I am

And how we missed your beat again

I swear we need to find some comfort in this run down place

To breach the gap of this constant state that we live in

And I try, I try

How come youre trying

(To face us all)

To fit the shape of

(Until I break)

What they tell you

(You to move on, move on)

You must do what they show you

At this rate, we cant give up

Taking back all the things I said

Taking back all the things I said

My seconds just stand still

Hear me through, then I swear Ill go

We walk alone

We walk alone

We walk alone

We walk alone

We walk alone

We walk alone back home

Alone back home

Youre almost gone and Im okay

(I still see your sorrow)

To give you time to be afraid

(Put over your face again

I remember your presence)

I hope to God you come down

I hope to God you feel this now

I hope to God you come down

I hope to(God)

I know there must be some way out of here

And all of them will be waiting there.}

I think "profundity" is a word but I can't be bothered looking it up. I just wanted to write some stuff down.

In Extension today we were asked to talk about...about what our Perfect World would be. (Wow, that took some time to remember). I had to think about it, because as weird as it was, I never really think about "My Perfect World". I sometimes think about what things would be like if certain aspects of our world were missing, or had been replaced. But I never go to think about what it would be like if the intrinsic selfish nature of man was destroyed and replaced with something lovable and caring. My excuse is that I'm too caught up in reality, maybe. I try to keep myself inside of things that are real instead of living in my own fabrications. I guess that's contradictory to the whole idea of me being an Author. But...I guess my book is more of a Social Comment than any sort of fiction. Or fiction tied into a Social Comment...I'm not sure.

I came to the conclusion that the Perfect World is this one we're in now. I don't see the Perfect World as a place where there's no pain, no suffering, no theft, whatever...because...we'd be emptied of so much intelligence. I wouldn't sacrifice experience, knowledge, and wisdom for a good mood.
We need h a p p i n e s s.
We need s a d n e s s.
Without each of those extremities (and all the other emotions that come with them), we would just be shells of people. Someone who is always happy would be devoid of the ability to understand those who suffer. If someone was sad, their abilities to help would be meagre...nothing compares to a person who has experienced the same things, and come through them.
A person living in constant melancholy would be devoid of happiness, obviously. I also imagine they'd find it hard to believe in true happiness, or that there'd be any sort of good in this world.
Either way, knowledge comes with both.

Wow. I'm so full of crap.

No. Damn it, just no.

~crypticpoet — Wed, 22 Mar 2006 00:13:06 PST

This is stupid. This whole thing is just getting freaking stupid. This isn't even worth it. Let me go. Please, just let me go. Let me run from these sarcastic faces and hollow emotions. Let me flee, let me flee. I've had it. I'm done. I've run my race and am worn by all. Everything. God, let. Me. Go.

Some Will...

~crypticpoet — Fri, 17 Mar 2006 06:25:12 PST

Underoath - Some Will Seek Forgiveness, Others Escape

_{I heard a voice through the discord

Of a deluge of passers-by.

I saw one gaze frozen in time

Watching me passing by.

And I swear I'll know your face in the crowd,

And I'll hear your voice so loud

When you're whispering...

Hey unfaithful I will teach you

To be stronger, to be stronger.

Hey ungraceful I will teach you

To forgive one another.

Here's my kiss to betray

Desperate to brush the lips of grace.

Do you feel hollow when you think of how I've lied?

Oh sweet angel of mercy with your grace like the morning

Wrap your loving arms around me.

Oh sweet angel of mercy with your grace like the morning

Wrap your loving arms around me.

Hey unfaithful I will teach you

To be stronger, to be stronger.

Hey ungraceful I will teach you

To forgive one another.

Hey unfaithful I will teach you

To be stronger, to be stronger.

Hey unloving

I will love you

I will love you

I will love you.

Jesus I'm ready to come home.

Jesus I'm ready to come home.

I'm ready to come home.

Unfaithful

Hey ungrateful

Hey unloving

I will love you

Hey unloving

I will love you.}

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sheet. What a metal obsession I've been having lately. It rocks.

A Love Worth...

~crypticpoet — Mon, 13 Feb 2006 04:45:20 PST

I wanted to have this recorded and ready for you by Valentines Day, but the musical side of things is lagging a bit as I only finished writing it just then.

Happy Valentines Day, Spunkleh. I love you.

For

A Love Worth...

Drifting, endlessly...
Exhausted make believe...
Thoroughly wasted time I bleed...
Yet you are everything I need.

You're keeping my heart racing
Strong no matter what I'm facing
And I'd give anything to see
You again before me

With every breath I'm falling deeper, deeper
Every word brings me closer, closer to wanting to say
I need you more than my heartbeat
Your words; loving safety
Most of my best moments
Were spent standing next to you

You leave me breathless with your eyes
Thinking of time to pass by
I can't think of a better way
Than being with you each day

And if anyone can see the way you move me
I'd make them understand that it's you, that you love me
You Love Me
I love everything that makes you everything that I'd prayed for
This is my confession: A Love worth Dying For.

--

I told you I'd write you another song.

Exempt from Reality

~crypticpoet — Sat, 11 Feb 2006 04:58:11 PST

_{This is an extract from a part of the story I'm working on. Read it carefully.}

The next day was slow and boring up to my training session at Woolworths. I stood dumbly behind the counter, trying to ignore the constant beeping of the registers around me. The place was like a concentration camp, the people at the registers following the silent orders of their customers. The atmosphere was chokingly busy, yet quiet at the same time. No one talked to each other, unless it was through a microphone that aired all around the place saying something like, Issac, isle three. Issac, isle three.
I studied the face of each customer I served. Most of them were old people, but it was amazing how much each persons physical characteristics differed; not to mention the personalities. I couldnt help but wonder who each of them were. Why they were so nice or rude; why they were buying the things they were buying. Where had they come from? What was their past like? What brought them to Woolworths at this exact moment?
Obviously I didnt have the answers to these questions, so I made up the stories myself.
A rugged man of about forty came to the counter holding condoms, a pumpkin, a can of Coke, museli, and some milk. He was tattooed on every visible part of his body, which was only his arms as he was clad in a white singlet shirt and blue jeans. In his mouth was an unlit cigarette, and his body reeked of them.

This man was recently divorced because of his abusive and negligent nature towards his wife and little girl at home. He would go to the pub late at night, but instead of drinking, he would console his drunken friends about their marriages and girlfriends. Not wanting to be involved in any sort of accident, he doesnt touch the alcohol during the week, and drives home late at night where his wife waits for him.
She sits upright in a king-sized bed, her arms folded under the soft orange light her bedside table emitted.
The interrogations begin.
Where have you been? She would ask in hostility.
The pub. His weariness denies him the right to think before he speaks.
And you still drove home? Dont you care about any of us?
Of course I do. His voice echoes back out into the bedroom as he makes his way to the bathroom.
She continues her accusations of adultery and alcoholism. She says the reason he doesnt talk to her anymore is because his mind is too fogged by alcohol to function properly. The man sighs repeatedly, unwilling to get into an argument with the woman he loved with all of him. She says she hates his tattoos; that they make him look like a gangster. He believed his tattoos to be an expression of his feelings towards things, and she still didnt know about the tattoo of her name hed had drawn on his chest surrounded by hearts and things that she loved about him.
Things that she used to love about him.
She says he doesnt care about their daughter, but she didnt know about the set of barbies hed picked up for $50 at the 24/7 store on his way home that night. The $50 that he had leftover to spend on what he thought best, as the rest of his wage went to his family.
He lays himself down gently into the bed, spreading the covers over his weary body. She tugged at them until he was nearly completely uncovered in the cold night, and she rolled over mumbling what had now become his nightmaric lullaby each night,
I hate you.
He lays on the other side of the bed, cold, tired, weary, heartbroken.
As he lay there, trying to get to sleep despite the heartbreak, he can only think of one thing: How much he loved his giving wife and cheerful daughter.
Oh, how he loved them.
The next morning, he wakes up alone. Stepping into the kitchen, his wife hands him some papers that turn his insides cold. There, on the top, written in bold block letters so that even the simplest of minds could understand:
D I V O R C E

Oh, how he loved them.

Now here he was in Woolworths, buying what his basic needs desired. He didnt look angry, but he looked sad. He lost the only things that ever meant anything to him, and all he had of it was the ring he still wore on his left hand. He was receiving his full $1700 a week, but it didnt compare to the joy he saw overcome his daughters face when she opened the packet of Barbie dolls hed bought for her.
Inside, he was dead.

Uh. How much is all that? The mans voice echoed into my mind, breaking apart my tale. I gazed up at him, suddenly entranced by the feeling you get when you meet a movie star. Ripping my attention back to actuality, my fingers fumbled around the register, searching desperately for the right keys to push.
$21.95 I smiled politely.
Cheap. He gave a gleaming white grin that broke through his tanned skin like the snow of winter through...

ARGH.

~crypticpoet — Sat, 28 Jan 2006 03:07:46 PST

_{So there you are.

You stumble along devotedly towards a constantly deceptive goal. You plant your foot at what seems to be the end of a tedious, punishing journey to find that your reward has vanished and misplaced itself yet again. The gradual dissipation of kind words and loving embraces of those that oversee this constant campaign has left you damaged and disheartened; no longer willing to push your feet forward through the booby-trapped sand that has constantly sought a way to pull you under.

And succeeded.

You pull up your sword, but your defense shatters in your hands. Endless criticism from those that "love" covers the appreciation for the works that left your hands bleeding.

Now it's your blood, on their hands.

They are accusing you -- theif, liar -- when everything you hold is your own; yet you have no way to prove it. Everything you want to say has been spoken by those before you; you've no originality. Your surroundings belittle you as you once again press your face into the sand, suffocating yourself in an attempt to escape the burning remorse and strengthening pain from the cruel acts of those around you.

Then, suddenly, something grips your collar and lifts you gently from your repeatedly assisted attempted suicide; pulls you into a hot embrace that shatters words and crushes opinions. Your rescuer releases you and turns you in the direction in which your deceptive goal now resides. You shake your head righteously having already experienced the lies "The End" has fed you, and step away from your rescuer.

Inadequacy. You begin to sob as you find yourself once again crushed by the burden that is your inadequacy; your failure to complete the tasks (standards) you'd set for yourself -- your failure to deserve the One who has saved you. Rejecting it, you turn dumbly towards the goal you know you will never reach, and you place one foot forward and watch the imprint it makes on the death-stained sand.

Commitment.

So there you are. One step forward, but you sink in. You've no mind of your own, apparently. You're a theif, remember?

Something hopeless.}

Apprenticeships!

~crypticpoet — Mon, 23 Jan 2006 23:27:26 PST

Well, I've taken two under my wing. Officially. Unofficially I have another three, but it looks like these two will be hanging around.

I'm teaching some kids how to skate! Yay! Ben and Brodie...oh man it was so cute; when Ben came today, he brought his mother. He's going into year 7 this year at my school which rocks. I can stand up for him when someone is picking on him, and give him advice when he has a crush....AH I'm so excited. I feel like I have two little brothers.
Then there's Brodie. Brodie is...he has a lower self-esteem than Ben. I mean, I was somehow able to teach Ben how to ollie in ONE. DAY. But Brodie was having a bit more trouble, and he's really down on himself about it. Oh well! It's just encouragement. They kept asking me, "was that good?" "Am I good for my age?" and things like that...
AH! Hmm. The bad thing is, I should probably get my leg looked at. I just came back from Summer Camp with a hideous sunburn, and bad leg injuries. My entire leg (almost) is bruised, but I didn't skate for two days after Summer Camp and I felt like it was healing. I could bend it, and it was okay to walk on. But I went skating today, and the instant I landed an ollie, this sharp pain shot violently up my leg, and hasn't left me since. Now to even touch it with a finger hurts. OH WELL, God'll heal me.

I'm so excited for my new little brothers. Ben's mum is like, "I've heard SO much about you. He won't shut up about what a good skater you are."
Hah. I'm lending him a skate movie that I have...oh man, he's not gonna think I'm all that great after he watches that.

Peace.

Girls. Superficial Conformity.

~crypticpoet — Thu, 29 Dec 2005 00:10:42 PST

Gawsh.

Honestly.

I don't know how much more I can take of this. Everyone just looks the same. I don't like being around people anymore because they just cause grief.

The girls, mainly. All I have to do is walk down the street and there they are, in little clusters...colonies of clones. I have to vent this now.

STOP IT. ARGH. JUST STOP IT. Girls complain about what pigs men are; about how men can't control themselves; about how badly they're treated...well, if you ask me, girls bring it on themselves. Look at the way they're dressing! They're the very epitome of sex. Voluntary moving targets. I walk around school and overhear conversations occuring between the junior girls, and they're usually only about two things: Guys, and makeup/clothes. It just makes me so mad; it's as if that's all they live for.

Don't get me wrong; some girls look really cool. I don't have a problem with the black tighties because they look cool and are hella good to skate in, but I'm talking about the mini-skirts that may as well be belts, shirts that may as well be bras...honestly. How can they feel comfortable in those clothes? They may as well be wearing nothing at all. I just can't stand seeing them like this.

What triggered this? I was skating this afternoon and four girls walked past. A ring leader with three followers. They didn't look any older than thirteen; maybe fourteen. When I saw them coming, I smiled and just sat on my board and watched them pass me; pretending not to see me. I wasn't doing it mockingly, I just wanted to see something. Yep, they made a "skater chick" whisper as they passed. I pretended not to hear them; I didn't care. None of them were wearing pants, and I'd never seen so much skin in my life ARGH.

I should probably stop before I get myself into trouble, haha.

Girls. Please. Wear clothes. Real ones.

SHO...

~crypticpoet — Thu, 22 Dec 2005 23:29:42 PST

Tired. Oh man. I can't even type with two hands.

Update, update...what can I say? Pros and cons. Today I started work at 7am and finished at 12pm, then went skating till 5pm, before I was forced home. Eww it was like, 32 degrees today. Hot. Hot. HAWT. I didn't really notice until I actually sat down for a long period of time and saw all this sweat dripped off me. I tell all of you: a nice hot bath after a gnarly skate session...ahh...nothing beats it. I landed the most awesomely ollie down some stairs today but the con of that is that I think I've stuffed my ankle again from the time I stacked it really bad trying to 180.
...Yup, I can see the swelling.

Tomorrow--Christmas Eve--I start work at 5am. FIVE IN THE MORNING. And I finish at 3pm. THREE IN THE AFTERNOON. That's TEN solid hours dealing with annoying staff members and annoying customers. With a bad ankle.
Pro of that, is that ish lozza moolah...

I got free stuff from PSC Skateboards today. I was stoked. I got free bushings (which otherwise would have cost $10) for my board, and a discounted new set of wheels. I tellsya, it pays to be a skateboarder that visits that shop regularly. They only have like, four staff members in total, so I'm friends with all of them. I knew that'd pay off. The guy that fit the bushings on my board for me told me that he has the exact same setup, and he's a pro skater. Boo yah. I'm loving that place.

So that's the skate side of things. Um. Work. Work today wasn't that bad...it was funny when this kid started screaming "MUMMMAAHHH!!"
And then Mel started singing "Mumma won't you hold meeeee..." and the kid screamed it again, and Mel's like "Take it away!"
And it kept screaming.

...

You had to be there.

So it was fun until one of the staff members started hitting on me. Now, that wouldn't be as bad if it was a guy.
Yes, I got hit on by a chick. She thought it was working. I just kept avoiding her because...well at first it seemed like a joke but then it started getting awkward.
She's a sick, twisted girl. She's not even gay...I think she's bi. But still. Yuck.

I'm waiting for Spunkleh to get back from NZ so I can tell him my stories of woe.

That's about it from meeeee. Berowra skate park opened last night. I'll put the pictures up later. Peace.

Steps Away From Me

~crypticpoet — Thu, 24 Nov 2005 01:49:12 PST

"I want you to stand up, and tell your team--this half of your grade here--what they need to do to make this grade a family; instead of seperate groups."
I shifted my weight and moved gingerly to my knees. I just had too much to say, and no words to say it. None of it was positive, either.
None of it.
"We need to realize something:" A voice exclaimed from my left. My eyes shot quickly over to Julia who was on her feet, looking over everyone, "we're all people. We need to accept each others' mistakes, and personalities. We need to stop judging each other, and accept the fact that we're human. We're all human."
Her voice ended in that perfect caidence that all great leaders use at the conclusion of one of their motivational tangents. I had my own words written down in my head like a letter:

Dear Year 10,

We . . . You need to stop believing in stupid things. You need to stop worrying about the things that don't, and never will matter. You girls need to stop thinking about what Ash will think of you if you don't spend an hour and a half each morning dolling yourself up for him and his fellow Rugby mates. You'll stop worrying about what they think of you when you realize how seldom they do. You need to stop thinking about how you can invest your money into your clothing, and start thinking about how you can invest your money into the things you are passionate about; the things that will last you. The things you don't grow out of; the things that don't get old; the things that will stick to you. You need to stop looking at yourselves in the mirror and hating the reflection. You need to stop changing the angles you stand at in front of that reflection, and realize that every angle is beautiful, and every angle will show the same person. Don't waste your heart on the things that will not stay.

Boys, you need to stop thinking that how you look and what you do will win hearts. Know that who you are will win hearts. It's not what you do to show your strength or capabilities, but it is what you do to show your heart; your passions. You need to stop thinking that biceps will win the ladies. You need to stop teasing the people that achieve things. Stop being so careless, and be more perceptive. Don't put people down because they do great things. In the end, they'll be the ones to change this dying world. Would you really want to intervene?

Rhetorical questions make people think about the answers; the primary intention of their use. By the time I finished my thought-written letter, Bernie was asking something else of us,
"I want you to go up to someone you are not close to at all, and tell them the good you see in them."
As I turned, my eyes fell on Warwick...on Warwick. I didn't even know his last name. All I knew was that Warwick was Ben Gillings' clone. Ben Gillings was the most egotistic, egocentric person I'd ever come across. Warwick was fairly new to our grade and followed Ben like a puppy. If Ben picked on someone, so would Warwick.
Warwick stared at me with those big, blue eyes. Biting a coarse tongue, I approached him.
Warwick and I had seldom spoken.
"Warwick." I said dumbly.
"Tobie?" I think he was asking my name.
I nodded, "Yeah. Um. Heh."
We both laughed dumbly because neither of us knew what to say. We knew absolutley squat about each other, save the negative things I'd collected from him. Euphamism secretly in place, I began to speak quietly,
"Um. I need to tell you something..."
"Yup?" He smiled cheerfully.
At that moment, something inside of me looked right through him. His simple response; that one simple word changed his entire appearance. He was no longer the mean, self-centered clone that was also Ben Gillings, but he'd become someone new. Someone I was hoping he was capable of being.
"...Be Warwick. Don't be Ben. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying I dislike Ben, [Insert truth to compensate] I just don't think...uh...he's not...my type of personality. I see you differently to how I see Ben, and trust me, that's a very good thing. I know you're a different person, Warwick, and that's wonderful. Please be that person, don't be Ben. If it means disagreeing with Ben, then so be it. But trust me, people will like Warwick more than they like Ben. Take my word for it." I leaned back, shutting my mouth.
He paused for a moment, staring at the floor. Then again, he looked up at me, "I understand. Thank you so much." And finally, a smile, and a departure.
I breathed out.
More people approached me and told me the good they see in me.
Jess Miller: "Tobie, you're so damn talented."
Daniel Bibi: "The way you work with your words and feelings is amazing."
Erin McAllister: "I'm too much of a bitch to tell you this often enough, but Tobie, you totally changed my life. If it weren'...

The Skater.

~crypticpoet — Mon, 14 Nov 2005 23:44:18 PST
Listening To: Seemless - Endless

_{This is what we offer you: The Pop, the Defining Moment, the Landing. The Skater is rejected; served only by those that share his repute. Those that reprehend the nature of the stereotyped manner in which The Skater is assumed to behave repudiate any form of respect for The Skaters constant defiance of the ever-present laws of gravity.

A Skater was being observed by an individual; a "respectable" member of society.

"Do a kickflip." He sneered audaciously.

The Skater could feel the pressing weight of his worlds expectations of him in these three meaningless words that clothed his request.

His order.

The Skater jumped as the board flipped obediently beneath his feet. He set his feet back down faster than his new boss could calculate his movements.

Betrayed.

The Skater fell shamefully as the board slipped out from under his sprawling feet.

"Poser." Spat his observer, fading into the distance.

The Skater was a "poser" because he could not flip when the conceited expectations of a stranger asked it of him? No true Skater is a poser.

[Redefinition] claims The Skater. A rail, touched by so many unsteady hands, is redefined once stroked in the sequence of the pop, the slide, and the clap of urethane compounds kissing a solid landing and making like music.

[Purpose] beckons the skater.

A curb. A curb to stop a car. A curb to stop a bike. A curb to stop.

A curb to dance upon with Canadian Maple. Now a curb to draw attention to.

The Skater is an artist.}

Hero

~crypticpoet — Wed, 09 Nov 2005 02:17:20 PST
And suddenly it's over.

Tear-stained exam papers, little flower emoticons before MSN names stating R.I.P Ness. We love you.

She's just a memory now. And who would have thought...a golf ball. She was killed by a golf ball. My mother told me that she'd rather me playing golf than skateboarding. Now I guess she wouldn't be so sure.

Every time I think about it, I have to accept it all over again.

Deviants, someone very, very important left this world at 4am on November 8th, 2005. I know you didn't know her, but you should have.

So this is goodbye, Ness. Live in our memories.

The Supremes - 'Ain't No Mountain High Enough"

Ohhh
Ain't no mountain high
Ain't no vally low
Ain't no river wide enough, baby

If you need me, call me
No matter where you are
No matter how far
Just call out my name
I'll be there in a hurry
You don't have to worry

'Cause baby,
There ain't no mountain high enough
Ain't no valley low enough
Ain't no river wide enough
To keep me from getting to you

Remember the day
I set you free
I told you
You could always count on me darlin'
And from that day on I made a vow
I'll be there when you want me
Some way, soooooome how

'Cause baby,
There ain't no mountain high enough
Ain't no valley low enough
Ain't no river wide enough
To keep me from getting to you

No wind (no wind) , no rain (no rain)

{Ohhhh..ooh ooh ooh}

My love is alive
Way down in my heart
Although we are miles apart
If you ever need a helping hand
I'll be there on the double
Just as fast as I can

Don't you know that
Ain't no mountain high enough
Ain't no valley low enough
Ain't no river wide enough
To keep me from you

Ain't no mountain high enough
Ain't no valley low enough
Ain't no river wide enough
To keep me from you

Don't you know that
There ain't no mountain high enough
Ain't no valley low enough
Ain't no river wide enough

To keep me from gettin' to you babe..

Your song, Ness. I miss you so much. Gosh...you're gone. You're really gone.

Chronicles Of Tobli, 29 Oct

~crypticpoet — Sat, 29 Oct 2005 02:20:07 PDT
Sometimes I imagine stepping into my workplace to see it completley ablaze. The bakers working in chains and shackles, avoiding the whip of Dallas: their leader.
When I think about it like that, I feel even closer to Hell than I usually do in there. Zombies tearing at the faces of the sales staff; grunting and hollering sadistic abuse.
...Well it's a lot like that, actually. Minus the zombies; but they may as well be.

I sauntered leisurely down past the seafood shop. Something smelled fishy (pardon the pun).

_{Failure is your disease

You want my outline drawn

You are my greatest failure

Discourse your saving song}

I stood outside the door and tapped in the code. I heard the unlocking "click" as I turned the knob. At that moment, I promised myself that no matter what, I would retain a good mood today. Anberlin's music on the way to work had psyched me up.

Five hours dragged by. 9am till 2pm. Throughout that entire period, I counted seven customers that I considered to be at least slightly polite. Seven out of God knows how many. After a while I just fell into silence and followed orders.
The clock seemed to stay on 1:51pm for three and a half hours. The only good part of that shift was when the fat man with tattoos approached me and said,
"Don't worry, I deal with morons every day, too."
Yes. I dealt with plenty of morons today.

Walking home I felt angry and anxious. I just wanted to start running. I stepped into the elevator and pushed 13 hard. It came to a halt at 5. I stood against the cold, grimy mirror and sighed with frustration. At that point, everything turned around.
A young woman--twenty, or so--rode into the elevator on a little bike...type...thing. She was skinny and beautiful, and I could tell that she was obviously paralyzed in her legs. She was cheerful. So cheerful. And on the front of her scooter-thing, a sticker had been planted:

"Smile"

I smiled. When she exited the elevator, all my frustration left me. I get angry when I screw up a trick on my board. I get angry when I serve a moron. I get angry on days I can't sing or play my guitar properly. I get angry when I get bad marks on exams or assignments. I get angry with people that annoy me. I get angry when something doesn't turn out the way I want it to. I get angry when I've hurt my ankle(s) and can't skate.
This woman was in a wheelchair, completley paralyzed for what looked like the rest of her life; completley immobile (her lower body) and yet...she still smiled. I felt so calmed. I was so happy when I walked in the door. I was so happy when I went skating.
I flipped a kickflip today. I didn't land it, but I flipped it and it landed fine. Kyle said it took him 4 months to learn how to flip it properly, and another 8 to land it. I've been practising kickflips for about 3 days.
My whole day just improved.

Just because she smiled when she had so many reasons not to.

My....owwhh....

~crypticpoet — Tue, 18 Oct 2005 02:20:18 PDT
Skateboarding for five hours...

When I walk, I walk with a huge limp. Every step feels like someone is driving a screwdriver through my ankles; I'm trying to avoid walking now. Which sucks. Because I have no alternative method of transportation other than skating, and that's how I caused this agonizing pain in my ankles.

I was doing pop shove its over a small hill, and my back foot didn't make it, so all my weight was on the corner on the nose of the board, and it snapped up into my ankle, at the front. I stepped off the board, folded my arms, and stared at the ground, and I heard Josh yell "Awwwwh shinnaaaaah!!"
I looked up and said nothing, and when he turned away, I mouthed the....."F word"... and knelt down and grabbed my ankle. When I took my hand off, it was DENTED. There was a DENT in my ankle.
That proceeded to happen about another 7 times.

Practising nose stalls (where you ollie up onto a ledge, but put all your weight on the nose of the board so you "stall"), I ollied up too hard and my front foot slid off the nose and the nose dived RIGHT into my other ankle. That drew blood, and looks like it may need stitches.

My ankles are purple all the way around, and one of them is bleeding. I can't walk, and I am in agony.

...

I might have to give skating a rest for a few days, I think.

Exams And Study Make Tobie Go Hungry

~crypticpoet — Tue, 11 Oct 2005 00:38:23 PDT
Exams are the most boring, tedious, and unnecessary method of torture ever to hit the planet. The only decent thing I did today was my 2 hour English exam in which my neck cramped so I had trouble lifting my head afterwards.

During the hour and a half science exam I drew little pictures of suicidal cartoons on the back of my paper and made faces at the supervising teacher who is also my English teacher. Lucky for me, she was responding, being equally as stupid and bored.

AND throughout this entire ordeal, I couldn't help but wonder how extremely hungry and tired I have been all day.

Maths and History tomorrow. Looks like I'm gonna need more scrap paper.

...For drawings.

...Not for working out.

...For drawings.

-

~crypticpoet — Mon, 03 Oct 2005 04:10:22 PDT
_{Something tells you to just keep pushing forward...}

You feel like more than a fool; you feel like you're standing in a crowded room, and you're the one that stands out, but for all the wrong reasons. You try your best, and your body aches with effort and exhaustion--and you know you can do better--but your body refuses to. You keep letting what is left of your energy pump through your veins and flow out of you; seemingly wasted. You conquer one height but they're still laughing at you. You conquer another, but they still want more. There's nothing more you can give at this point in time. You've hit the top--where it currently stands--and you need to be better, stronger to raise it further. Something in the back of your mind tells you that you have to keep going. The sunburn on your skin is so pink with pain that even your sweat causes it to sting. You just. Keep. Going. You keep trying to raise the bar, even though your skills have contained you to where you currently stand. They're not speaking now, but you can still feel them laughing at you. Your breathing is heavier and feels forced, but your determination refuses to let you rest. You're not going to stop now. You need the raise the bar. But your body can't take it; you're stumbling, you're falling, you're stepping everywhere until the darkness just gives way.

Me

~crypticpoet — Sun, 25 Sep 2005 06:47:06 PDT
"Alyssa...
If there weren't things that we didn't just have to put up with in life...
...don't you think I'd be beside him right now?"

_{I like music.

I like writing songs. When a writer sits in front of a blank page, picks up the pen and writes; they're taking their thoughts and feelings out of that moment in time, and they're making them real. By putting them on that page, they're putting them into reality. Out of them, into the world. The music that is written alongside the words brings the song to life. It gives the words voices...to proclaim the purpose for which they were intended. The music carries the feelings of the writer into the ears of the listeners.

A person who hears the song is a listener. Well, technically speaking, hearing and listening are two different things. But when a song is heard, the emotions of the writer are transferred into the heart of the listener. The listener's mood begins to change, and sometimes they're not even aware of it. The emotions carried through the words and music are moulding the listener's feelings to become that of the writer's.

When words are put the music, they aren't words. They're lyrics. The word sounds so much more...polished.

Music moves me. Music, lyrics...the way it's played, the way it's sung...

...it makes me thousands of different people.

I like music.}

Hollow And Broken

~crypticpoet — Tue, 20 Sep 2005 23:08:01 PDT
Nothingface - Patricide

I'm not the devil
That's untrue
I'm just not like you
Anger holds my hand
Keeps me in seclusion
A prison
But I can't help it
I hate everyone
Even you

Seeing it
Breathing
All the hate and denial
Lied to again
Left out
Feeling hollow and broken

I saw the devil crawl inside your heart
Buying my soul
Tearing me apart

Sit in my room
Locked away
Constricted
The burning ash
And choking smoke
Dry out my insides

But I'll still fight this every single day
Till death........

Seeing it
Breathing
All the hate and denial
Lied to again
Left out
Feeling hollow and broken

I saw the devil crawl inside your heart
Buying my soul
Tearing me apart

See everything fall around me
I can't help anyone now
How many times do I have to die
There's no blood left in my wrist

Find a way back inside my mind
Reasons just slip away
You can't hold back again
Will you find a reason why
I should not die

No I don't care, no not this time
For the reasons why

I'm not the devil
That might be true
I'm just not like you
Anger holds my hand
Keeps me in seclusion
A prison

KE - Hope Is...

~crypticpoet — Fri, 16 Sep 2005 07:27:01 PDT
Killswitch Engage - Hope Is...

This is our moment
Will you stand with me?
Hope is not lost
Hope is not lost

Let the strength of your words
Be the spark that ignites the flame
Proclaim your freedom
Give voice to your liberation

This is my confession
Mark these words, we will rise

Weep no more
We will prevail
Grieve no more
We will prevail

Revoke the needless way of affliction
Revoke and abandon
We are the authors, finishers of our faith
We are the solution

This is my confession
Mark these words, we will rise

Weep no more
We will prevail
Grieve no more
We will prevail

Hope is...
Hope is not lost

Weep no more
We will prevail
Grieve no more
We will prevail

This is our moment
Will you stand with me?
Hope is not lost
Hope is not lost

This is how you...

~crypticpoet — Sun, 11 Sep 2005 03:46:33 PDT
They say that love goes anywhere
In your darkest times, it's just enough
To know it's there.

I could hear it. Heaven's tears descending mellifluously from a grey-sheeted sky to bounce and dissolve on every surface it touched. There was something so relaxing about waking up on a Sunday morning to the sound of rain. All the different drops falling at all different intervals, breaking the miasma floating defiantly around my quiet home; and creating an orchestra of water.
8am.
I hate waking up early when I don't have to. I didn't start work till 11am.
I lay there motionless, staring at the ceiling. Thinking.
I heard the rain come, and I heard the rain go.
9am.
I stumbled miserably out of bed and headed downstairs. Something felt so wrong about today. I washed my face and tied my hair back, fixing my oversized shirt that I always seem to get tangled in each night. After looking for my work uniform for around 20 mins, I remembered that I'd stuffed it in my backpack after work last night. I pulled out the dirty, creased shirt. Then I fished out the dirty, creased shorts.
They'll be fine.
Half way down towards the shower, I decided I'd iron them, at the very least.
Being alone in the house provided quite a few opportunities. One of these was listening to Jimmy Eat World's Polaris while reminiscing some of the best times in my life spent interstate. Jimmy Eat World reminds me of Melbourne.
Complete and utter nostalgia.
I felt happier. Things didn't seem as grim anymore, even if I had to work a shift that I knew was going to take forever.

The day dragged forward. I had Polaris in my head the entire time, which provided some sense of warmth with the memories tied to that beautiful song. But then I found out my shift was half an hour longer than I thought it was, and that ruined everything. It meant no church for me tonight.
So here I am, writing this. Something good did come out of today, though.

I felt angry. Disturbing, nauseating anger flowing through me. I'd already spent an ounce of it being rude to my step father, but I needed another release. Something physical.
I grabbed my board.

Pop Shove It. I'd caused myself four bruises on each shin trying to land this trick for three weeks.
Being unable to land it today didn't make me much happier.
Pop.
Scoop.
Tuck.
Land.
One-foot landing. This was all I could achieve in three weeks. I felt decieved and gained a lot of speed and ollied up onto the curb. My landing was sketchy and the board flipped up and scraped my shin. I bit my lower lip and grumbled "FFFFFFFRRRRrrrrrrr....." before a shocking sense of relaxation flowed through me. I picked up the board from its primo position and walked back over to the concrete. I put it down softly and stood on it. I pushed with my back foot for some speed, then mounted the board.

Get some speed. Not too much; try to stay at a controlled speed.

_{Sometimes my body works faster than my mind. I speak before I think and act before the coast is clear. I find myself moving too fast for my own feelings, and I find that's where a lot of my bad moods come from. My own expectations that are so high that I can't even reach them. I need to slow down, and stop acting as if the future will slip out of my hands if I don't hurry the present. One day at a time.}

Crouch; but not too low. Prepare for the jump, but it won't be too high.

_{Sometimes I look at things and blow them way out of proportion. If I can't work out why something happens, my mind leans towards the negative and creates scenarios that are so farfetched that if they were made as movies, the audience could predict that the film would finish with the Apocalypse. I prepare myself for an anti-climactic moment that I didn't forsee. I have to stop getting myself so worked up over the things that don't, and never will matter.}

Pop, but not too hard. You don't want a lot of air. Scoop the tail towards your body and tuck your legs up into your chest; focus on getting them out of the way so the board will spin a clean 180.

_{I remember when I first started skating, and I was trying to ollie. This dude skated past me and said "Don't crouch so low." and as I watched him pass me, he tried to ollie off the curb and landed on his ass.

I may have been crouching low, but at least my ollies were clean. I'd been trying so hard to land them properly; thinking too much about the technicalities of the jump. I do it with a lot of things. I think too deeply into things and make everything more complicated than it already is. I just need to do what I have to do, get out of the way, and let it happen.}

Keep your eyes on the board. As soon as you see...

Hero

~crypticpoet — Fri, 09 Sep 2005 06:52:56 PDT
There goes my hero
So ordinary

I hadn't been to church in two weeks and I felt like a heathen. Sitting there tonight at a table, my skateboard between my legs, my black jacket zipped up with the hood over my head, and gripping a regular cappuccino, I felt like a dirty black spot on a clean mirror. Julia was in front of me, telling me about how her long-distance relationship ended three hours previously.
I know how you feel; but I can't think about it right now.
All I could think about was getting to youth. Standing there and being cleansed again. Washing the dirt and blood that had stained my hands over the past two weeks.
I felt like I hadn't slept in years.
Julia spilled her coffee over herself three times. She'd sipped it a few times, but the majority of it was sinking fast into her clothing; with nothing she could do to stop it. I managed to laugh at her.
"I wanna go for a skate." My board felt lifeless when I wasn't riding it. We left the coffee shop, and I insisted on showing Julia the beatiful lake. I threw my board down and cleared the hill, narrowly missing the corner, and someone calls out,
"You! Off!" I stepped off the board, popped it into my hands and turned with a sigh. I already knew who it was.
There seems to be a police officer everywhere I skate. Someone to stop me from doing the things I love.
Being the heathen I was, I wasn't in the mood for apologizing.
"So we can't skate here."
"No, you can't."
"Righteo." I threw my board down. Looking to my right, I noticed a guy--no older than 17--standing at the bottom of the steps. He had a skateboard at his foot, a six pack of something in his left hand, and a can of something in his right. He too was being lectured by an officer. To my left was a woman, waddling towards me. The officer that had now finished feeding me the lecture I wasn't listening to had walked over to her and said something. I heard her say "Good. Thank you."
I knew she'd been the one to bust that kid down there, and myself. I stood there staring at her with my board in my hand as she approached me.
"Excuse me."
I smiled sarcastically and stepped aside.
"Thank you." She said rudely, waddling on her way.
Julia and I stood and watched the kid being lectured. He didn't say much, but the man that was lecturing me decided to join in with his buddy. When they left, the kid approached me.
"Fucking hell." He laughed.
I noticed he was holding alcohol. He stunk of it, and he was badly intoxicated.
"Wh...what did he say to you?" I asked casually.
"Hah. He told me to stop drinkin'. Can ya help me?" He was struggling between carrying the grog, and carrying his board. I picked up his board for him while he gathered his grog,
"So you're a chick skater, huh?"
"Yeah, guess so."
"Niiiice. So do you like, drink and shit?" At this point he held up the six pack.
Bourbon and Coke. My favourite.
Yes.
"No."
Used to.
"Ahh right. So why ya here?"
I looked over to Julia.
Approval. You want his approval.
No.
"I'm going to my youth just up the road."
"Oh yah?"
"Yah. You should come; it's awesome. It's free. And there's a skate park." I stopped walking.
"Haha nah man I've been there. It's fucked; I hate that place."
"I see." I began to walk on an angle, changing paths with the guy. I returned his board to him,
"Nice ride." I called behind me, walking away.
"Back atcha! Thanks!" I heard him say.
I felt angry. Watching a kid ruin his life. I was tempted. But I ignored it.
I went to youth, and was replenished. I got a good skate, and made a new friend. She's awesome; another person to help me with my faith.

I love looking at photos of skaters. I like it because it's one artist taking a picture of another artist; right at that moment where both skills clash to create something beautiful.
When I see skaters like the drunken boy I saw tonight, I feel sad.
I wonder if he had a hero.

Bittersweet Procrastination

~crypticpoet — Sun, 04 Sep 2005 02:04:55 PDT
If I had my way,
I'd never get over you.
Today's the day I pray
That we'll make it through.

The days have been stepping past very, very slowly. My hands always seem to be full, with "One Missed Call" ever-presently hogging my phone screen while work calls relentlessly, trying to humble Brooke while she prances around talking as if she's some incredible prodigy, landing my pop shove-its that sometimes result in injury (eg a bruise the size of a fist from when I popped too hard and the board belted me in the shin), burying myself in an always-growing pile of assignments that I continuously relegate. In truth, everything seems to be becoming less important to me. I mean, I'm actually only writing this entry because I just finished a major assignment that ends with the words "So there.", and can't be bothered starting the next one because it's due on Friday; unlike the one I just finished which is due tomorrow.
Procrastination. It's an art.
Things are being thrown at me from all directions. New, extra things that I have to fit in my life. Late-night conversations with broken friends, "family lunches" with people that never bother to contact me unless it's my mothers' birthday, extra shifts being forced down my throat with the threat of being fired soon-to-follow if I don't do as I'm told, Father's Day...
Damn Fathers Day. I hate it for reasons I refuse to disclose.
So much has happened, but I don't feel like there's anything important worth telling anybody about. Someone would as "what's up?" and I would say "Absolutley nothing.", even though my house could have exploded five minutes earlier.
...
For the record, my house hasn't exploded. I'm going to go and do something else now. I'm not sure what it is, but whatever will kill the time until I can fall asleep. I can't be bothered talking to anybody. I might just go and get my guitar. Or write the story I haven't picked up in ages.
It's a shame I can't be bothered going out anywhere because it's 7pm and I'm too tired to move from this seat because I'm just lazy. I didn't even do that much today. Got up early, went skating in the rain, went to work, came home, did my assignments.

Meh.

24/8/05

~crypticpoet — Wed, 24 Aug 2005 03:30:25 PDT

You take me down
Further inside of me
Now I'm fading out
I can barely see
I hover

_{you stand outside yourself and you realize how very little you know. each and every person is made up of deoxyribonucleic acid that structures the fabrics of thier minds, bodies and functions. every single person is different in every single way, even if they can do everything the same as everybody else. there are similarities, but no one person is exactly the same. we've been told all of this before.

a homozygous male with the blood type A (Ao) mates with a heterozygous female with the blood type AB. the probability of thier children's blood types:

A: 50%

AB: 25%

B: 25%

a child is born with a blood type of Ao (or A, because o is the recessive gene). the child grows and meets other children with a blood type of A.

but they're very, very different. saying why would take way too much detail.

our bodies are made up of roughly 100 trillion cells. within each cell are thousands of proteins that manage that cell.

when you tread on a sharp rock, the nerve cells in your foot react and send a message to your brain instantly to tell you that you're in pain.

everything is so intricately complicated. we inhale, always expecting to exhale.

to think that God specifically designed each and every one of us down to ever last atom in our bodies. far. out.}

It absolutley blows me away; how complicated we actually are. I was just sitting here thinking about it tonight as I've been writing non-stop about Romeo and Juliet. Don't ask me why I was thinking about all this while doing English work. I don't even know.

Oh well!

Twentieth Of August, Two Thousand And Five

~crypticpoet — Sat, 20 Aug 2005 05:55:38 PDT
Antiskeptic-Technology Dictates

feels like a misery
has followed me down
is draggin' around
feels like i've got no retreat
or place to reside
one day at a time

still one question lingers

what did you mean with the word 'mentor'?
read it on my facial expression
hear the words concealed frustration found
promises not believed in anyway
another delay doesn't mean anything
and technology dictates our friendship now

does it, feel like a chore?
'cause i feel like a chore to you
do i feel like a chore?
'cause i feel like a chore to you

--

Not only is it an incredible song, but it strongly reminds me of a singular person in my life who I purposefully have not been in contact with who actually called me today.
At which point I sighed and hung up.
He ruined my day, but the silent relevance of this song has made me smile.

Eighteenth Of August, Two Thousand And Five

~crypticpoet — Thu, 18 Aug 2005 05:38:39 PDT
Today was the most musical day I have ever had. I've never had so many eyes on me at one time. Well, at different time periods throughout the day.

But oh how my fingers ACHE.

I had a music exam today. I sang that song I wrote "Breathe In, Believe" and it came out quite well although GENIUS HERE ate an apple before she sang so her throat was all stuffed up and cloggy. It was at that point that Jessi-Jo offered me this little flask she'd brought for no evident reason (it was like one of those flasks you'd see in the movies that people carry around in the desert....yeah, them.) and I had quite a lot of water from that. I was the second performance.
...
I HATE BEING SECOND. Mrs Gauci looked around the classroom...I saw her eyes brush across me and she said "hhmm....who's nextttt....TOBIE. Up ya get."
I pleaded and begged but she wouldn't have any of it.
The worst part about this assesment was that our classmates have to assess us. Actually that's a good thing, because I love everyone in my music class. We had to write a good comment and a bad comment about each person.
This is what my music teacher wrote for me:
"I LURVE YOUR GUITAR.
Cut the stringey bits at the end; they're annoying; they fly about everywhere."
...
WAS THAT EVEN RELEVANT?
Anyway the song was good. I kinda got lost in it and forgot everyone was there
When I finished playing, it was like waking up from a trance. I saw people's "bad" comments about me. They said things like "You're hot...that's a bad thing." and "FACE ME WHEN YOU SING"
*sigh* OH WELL. I didn't want any discouraging critique anyway.
SO THEN. Jessi-Jo and her little band got up. (consisting of her, Lucy and Alyssa, and Sam for accompaniment on the piano.) Sam is like, 6th grade piano, and she played to the tune of Greensleeves. NOW. I have a copy of the lyrics here. This is what they sang!

Music By Jessi-Jo McKay, Lucy Rose, Alyssa Peacock, and Sam Owens.
Alas my love
You do me wrong
To learn C Major
5 times a day

For I have
Learned it all before
You taught it to us
In week 4

Music, Music is so fun
We love to learn
Aaron plays the drums

Music, Music I can't wait
Mrs. Gauci will kill you
If you're late

Alas Ranel* you sit right there
Playing the bongo's*
with your long hair

My dearest Tobie plays guitar
la la la la la la la la
ROCK STAR.

SYN-CO-PA-THREE, FOUR.
(Que Bogan style)

Music, Music is DA BOMB.
Craig plays the
SAXAMAPHON.

Music, Music it's so great
I really think
It takes the cake

Alas Sandra you laugh a lot
I really think you're
Smoking pot

Emma, Emma
We've got nothing on you
(pick up triangle)
do do do do do do do do DING DING.

HAMMERTIME.
DANANUMNUM
NANANANUM
VIBRA SLAP
DANANUMNUM
NANANUM
VIBRA SLAP

Slap it,
Slap it REAL GOOD.*

Alas dear class
we end our song
we hope you enjoyed it
the timing is wrong

Music, music
The fittest survive
Music, Music
1, 4, and 5.

*Ranel: Paul Rainy. He looks like a vampire.
*Bongo's: Heh...he actually plays bass.
*...REAL GOOD...: Yeah...that whole thing was Lucy's solo.

That song...was so damn funny. We're putting it on a CD. My Music teacher decided that.

THEN I had to carry my guitar out into the main yard at lunch, and my friends were nagging me to play so um...I took it out and played some stuff and then before I knew it, I had this crowd around me INCLUDING my science teacher...I couldn't tell them to go away because I was singing, and she was making the occasional "She's so talented!" comment...can't say I didn't love it, though. THEN before martial arts I was playing AGAIN for like, and hour. Then AFTER maritial arts I had to play for Deanne, Dan, Kayla, Jess, and Sarah because they all wanted to hear "Breathe In, Believe" and OH MY HANDS HURT.

THEN I HAD TO WORK. And I wasn't supposed to, but they called me in baaahhh~!

Meh this journal entry is veli long. 20 points to the people that finish reading it. I'm going.

Forget Me Not

~crypticpoet — Sat, 13 Aug 2005 04:01:08 PDT
can't get that line out of my head...

random lines of poetry keep streaming into my mind, but i'll never write them down because I just KNOW I'll probably be ripping someone off.

today started off bad. BAD. i woke up with a massive headache that i also went to bed with last night, hoping it'd be gone by the time i had to get up at 5:30am in 3 degree weather. BUT NO. i woke up and it was worse ;.;

work blah blah, irritated and tired blah blah, consoling emma because the guy she likes has just started dating someone else. the only real good thing about today was that i got an awesome beanie for $5! don't ask me, the shop lady liked me.

The hair incident
hating my hair right now. hate. hate. hate. i feel like some sort of materialistic bimbo when i talk about my hair or things related, but i just can't help it.
i hate it.
so i cut it
yus. and then when i looked in the mirror, one side was shorter than the other. oh dear. so i had to crop the other side so now my hair is shoulder-length. which is actually where i wanted it, and it's perfect for my budget beanie.
tonight was bad. i just felt sick. not nauseas sick, but just...sick. like something really bad was gonna happen, 'sick'.
so i spent a while in prayer. now all my poetic-ness has left me, but i feel a lot better. i got worked up over nothing, which i do a lot.

OLOR SCHOOL FATE OH-YEAH. my primary school is having their annual fate tomorrow, and i'm going because last time i went i was in yeaaarrrrr......6? and i won a goldfish! no, 3! and they all lived for like a year...but one died because i was negligent BUT THAT WONT HAPPEN AGAIN. 'm.
what else...?

DANIELS MUM. HA. HA.
i was walking around the mall today after work and i saw dan (he's one of my part-asian, part-european friends that i went to primary school with, who i respect HIGHLY and although we used to be really tight, we dont talk much anymore. oh wells.) AND HIS MUM. she is awesome. she's chinese, and she SHO. NICE. i was walking along with this headache and i hear this "TTTOOOBBBIIIIIEEEEEEeeeeeee~!!!" and i looked up and there was mrs. reis-freeman, speeding towards me with her arms wide open. she then proceeded to glomp me and i looked at daniel over her shoulder who was SO EMBARRASSED.
she is so damn cool. i wanna swap mothers. i'll be talking to dan about that.

not much else going on. umm...

byyeee!

Road And Travel

~crypticpoet — Tue, 09 Aug 2005 08:24:35 PDT
"Road And Travel" -Antiskeptic

graduate of innocence
begins the road and travel
the call is out to join the fight
and family line is followed

forget me not
memories of tonight
'cause this house is a home
when you're running through her mind

orders the response
soldiers in lines they hold
prayers for them safe
they fall to the beaches cold

visit from corporal
message is born for all
jolting denial
future's not what she first thought

she's up and flying, wind in hair
forever in your right hand
she's up and flying, wind in hair
forever in your right hand

-

This song almost moved me to tears tonight. I've been listening to the entire CD on repeat all night, but I never really stopped to listen to the songs other than the ones I already knew. For that one second that I snapped out of my study, the words "forget me not" entered my ears. From then on in, I couldn't write because I wanted to listen to the song. I was pausing after each word I wrote, trying to reconstruct the sentence because my mind was fluctuating between what I was trying to concentrate on, and the lyrics of the song. So I weighed it out and decided that I'd been doing school stuff for six hours straight now, and my hand was gonna fall off from all the typing and writing, so I leaned back, re-started the song and listened.
Something inside me died.
"cause this house is a home
when you're running through her mind..."
In my mind, instantly, vividly, shone a picture of a woman, standing front-on, with her head in one hand and a letter in the other. She was crying. Then she paced back and forth throughout her empty house. All around her were picture frames that held tight to memories of her and a young man.
His absence has killed her.
Now she's alone. She'll never have him again. He died somewhere far away, and she can't even cry over his body. All she has is memories of him, and for one breif moment, that makes her house a home...because for that moment, he's there with her again; holding her and loving her.
Ah. Here come the tears.
The funny thing is, this just...doesn't relate to me at all. I've never really felt the pang of having someone I really care about die.
It's the empathy. I'm so filled with empathy for this woman; whoever she is. She mightn't even exist, but I feel her. Now I'm crying because I don't want her to be alone...
The worst part is that nobody can call me a child for feeling this way. Nobody can tell me that it's just my imagination, my feelings.
This. Did. Happen.
Young people, so in love...and then it's ripped apart by war. I hate war. I hate it. So many things are stolen from innocent people...
The governments decide they hate each other, and so they'll grab innocent people from their country to stand up and die for them while they hide behind their security and comfy chairs. They can't even get up and fight their own wars.
And look what it did to these families...to whoever this woman was.
Gosh, she's alone...she loved him and now she's alone...I don't think I could deal with that. I don't know how I'd live the rest of my life. I'd never move on.
This song...it just filled me with so much empathy...I can't describe it. It's like...it's like...
The man she loves has died...
And yet..
She died with him, it seems.

Third Of August, Two Thousand And Five

~crypticpoet — Wed, 03 Aug 2005 01:26:45 PDT
Abba, thou art merciful.
Thou hol'st my future in Thine gracious hands.
As Romeo declares to his Juliet, I pray that I, thy lowly wench, may be a glove upon Thine hand that Thou may hold me; direct my course; mould my path and I shall fain follow Thee.
Thou cares't for me, I know.
Strengthen mine legs that I may walk, nay, run these next two Summers that I may travel hence anon, and fain.
Reserve mine strength and keep me in thine heart that I may will to will these cold days forward. Guide mine hands with Thy gracious own that Thy holy words may leave mine lips and fall out pen.
Abba, Thou art merciful.
Guide me, Father, hold mine hand.
Direct me to be
all I can be
For Thou art Perfect.

a prayer i wrote today.

the batteries in my CD player ran out today. walking home, i was thinking about how much i hate it when that happens.
when that happens, i have to listen to the junior students of barker college run around and scream and yell over the thudding of their tennis balls on handball courts.
then i have to turn the corner and ignore the perverted senior students of barker college as they talk about football, women, and myself as i pass them.
i have to listen to the cars roaring past like the monsters from my nightmares.
i have to listen to myself think.
i think about everything when im not distracted by something. today i mainly thought about my subject choices for next year.
2 Unit Ancient History
2 Unit Music 1
2 Unit Visual Arts
1 Unit Photography And Digital Design
2 Unit Religion
2 Unit English Advanced
1 Unit English Extension 1 (upgrading to Extension 2 in yr12)
2 Unit Legal Studies
i was thinking about how happy i was about my choices; seeing as no other subjects on the paper interested me, and i knew that if i worked hard, i could really do well in these subjects because i enjoy them and am good at them.
i thought about a lot of things.
the more i thought, the heavier my heart felt.
strangely enough; even when my mind ponders on positivity, i still find myself sad and exhausted by the time something finally distracts me.

for a second, i broke free. for a moment, i pulled myself out of my head and looked up from the ground i'd been staring at for so long that my neck started to hurt. i realized i was walking very, very fast.
do i always walk this fast?
i never take notice, i'm always listening to music.
i was walking very, very quickly. why? was i in a hurry? no...
suddenly, i stopped walking. i stopped--right there in the grass--and i started again. i walked very, very slowly, and i looked around me. for the first time, there were not cars roaring past the junior part of barker college with parents leaning out the windows and yelling at their children that were pouring like insects out of the back gates by the twenties. it was very, very quiet. all i could hear were my light footsteps in the grass, the wind dancing very lightly through the leaves, and the inconstant thudding of the single tennis ball that a child was throwing against a set of five stairs. every time it bounced back, he caught it.
i pulled my bag up higher on my back and linked my hands across my chest, holding the straps. i must have looked like a turtle.
i stared at the sky as i walked, i walked backwards, i walked sideways. i walked in the dance steps that Jessi-Jo taught me. past the perverted seniors, past the construction yards with the perverted Lebs. i passed a whole heap of sand as i tiptoed around the cracked and mangled footpath. the sand looked so sturdy; like a wall.
so i kicked it.
it piled into my shoe, and i got some looks so i just kept walking.
sand in my shoe.
i balanced on the curb, jumped back onto the footpath, and reached the foot of the hill i climb every day after school. i began the ascent up the hill. i watched my thighs loosen, then tense with every step i took.
i kicked a rock.
i changed the world.
just by kicking that rock, i'd altered the course of the universe.
i stared at a very strange-looking person in a car. i crossed the road.
i put the key in the gate. i entered the courtyard. i put the key in the door. i entered the lobby. i stood in the elevator for thirteen stories. i stepped out. i put the key in the top lock. click. i put the second key in the bottom lock. click.
my house felt like a high security compound with all these locks. i guess, in a way, it is. up here in the sky where no one can reach us.

for a moment, life was boring. i had no music.
when i snapped out of it, my life was new. it was quiet. i walked backwards. i adjusted my bag on my back. i looked at the sky.
i got sand in my shoe.
i kicked a rock.
for a moment, things were differe...

Hope Is...

~crypticpoet — Fri, 29 Jul 2005 21:24:27 PDT
"It'll always hurt"

the words glided in through my ears, shook my brain, poured down my throat, barged through my stomach, and settled in my heart. suddenly i tuned out of everything, out of Mel's words, and sat pondering on the three she'd just said.
it'll always hurt.
i remember saying it myself at some point, but it has been so long since i've thought about it. thinking about it when hearing it from Mel...suddenly i feel like i was ignorant to it. i felt so stupid, yet so strong at the same time. Lance Armstrong wrote:

"you're there, going as fast as you can, and everything is hurting. your legs, your back, your thighs, your head, your feet. but you don't give in to that pain. you just. keep. going."

for the first time, that started to feel as easy as it sounded. i realized that nobody dictates my defeat. nobody is responsible for defeating me, only me. i am responsible for them defeating me, because i let them. i said 'i am defeated, i give up', so that means they have beaten me. what about if i don't say it? the things in my life--the pain, the heartache, the weariness, the things that make me sad, the things that make me wanna give up--can beat me down as much as they want, but they'll never truly defeat me until i say 'i am defeated'. until then, they'll keep beating and beating and beating down on me, but i'll keep crawling along as long as i keep my mouth shut, and my vision focused ahead of me.

"and you said i know that this will hurt
but if i don't break your heart, then things will just get worse
if the burden seems too much to bare
remember
the end will justify the pain it took to get us there."

sitting down and listening to those lyrics made me realize how easy it can actually be to win. i get so tired sometimes. i get so sick of pain, of having to endure life in Sydney when something i want with all of me is in a completley different state, not to mention a much better one. sometimes i just want to close my eyes and just give in. but no. never. i'll never give in to anything that is out to get me. should i get tired, fine, i'll go on tired. should my heart bleed, fine, i'll go on with a bleeding heart. should i fall, fine, i'll go on crawling. but i'll never stop.

Faith n. strong belief, esp. without proof; religion; complete confidence or trust; allegiance to a person or cause.

be strong, believe, be strong, believe.

no matter what, i'll never stop. i'll go on crawling, so be it, but i'll never, ever stop. not for anything. that goes for all areas of my life.

it'll always hurt

pain isn't something you get used to, but it's something you can build endurance to. it's never a good thing, and it's always there, and on some days, it's even worse. but you learn to live with it. i've learned that every morning when I wake up, there's going to be something hurting. months, even a few weeks ago, i probably would have focused on it; trying to find ways to make it go away, and hurting myself even more in the process. now, i've just learned to live with it. as i said, on some days it's worse, but...the end will justify the pain it took to get us there. we all go through things for a reason, and i know that is a dumb cliche, but its true. i know that the more this hurts, the better it will feel when its over. that thought reminds me that i can tolerate the pain until the day comes where i no longer have to face it. i can still sleep at night, i can still do things that i enjoy, because with each and every second that passes, i am liberated of one moment of that burning pain, and moving on to the next.

and at least i know that it's all going to be worth it. so i'll smile. because deep down, for the first time in two months, i really am happy.

Just Something.

~crypticpoet — Wed, 27 Jul 2005 07:32:22 PDT
It's good to be able to blame your emotions on a bad day. On the traffic, the weather, the people you converse with rather than an ever-present gaping hole that has been ripping its way through your insides for the past few months while you drown in your own dissimulation. Pretend.
So many people want to change the world. To scale and leap over the standards that society considers the 'norm'. Little do people know that the source of it all lay within our words.
"Sticks and stones can break my bones, but your words will never hurt me"
Your words will always hurt me; will always make me smile and laugh and bleed and die. Spread out on paper for me to drink; for me to remember you by. For me to remember that you were a person in my life that told me these words, that taught me this lesson.
What lesson? Who cares?
Me. You? Choose. Here is the first: "Love is the slowest form of suicide." NO. Love can be the slowest form of suicide.

Love.
Love.
Love.
Love.
Love.
Hate.
Love.
Love.
Love.
Love.

You saw it, didn't you? You saw the "hate", and you stopped scanning down the list, and you traced each and every letter of that word with your eyes. You paused to watch it and loathe it for every trite, painful experience it will ever represent. When you first started reading, you thought every word would say "love".

People don't stop to watch the hate that burns within the love. The hate that hates the love that loves.
Sadly, hate can be stronger.
Lesson Two.

You're not hurting as much as you think you are.

Love and Hate can be very much the same.

The love you choose to live by; your expressions; your ways of dealing with it can be very much the same as the ways in which you choose to express your hatred. Telling an overweight person that they are small; you've made another enemy, and neither you or he know it yet. But later on, it will mean something.

Love and hate can be very much the same. The lesson is learning the difference.

Love can be the slowest form of suicide.

Or the quickest way to life.

The easier way to live is the love without the hate.

Love? Romantic love? Is that what you think I'm talking about? No.

Romantic, deep, strong, passionate love....is love without the hate.

(I rambled this out for a friend earlier today. Meh.)

23

~crypticpoet — Sat, 16 Jul 2005 07:43:10 PDT
i felt for sure last night
that once we said goodbye
no one else will know these lonely dreams
no one else will know that part of me
i'm still driving away
and i'm sorry every day
i won't always love these selfish things
i won't always live
not stopping

it was my turn to decide
i knew this was our time
no one else will have me like you do
no one else will have me
only you

you'll sit alone forever if you wait for the right time
what are you hoping for?
i'm here, i'm now, i'm ready
holding on tight
don't give away the end
the one thing that stays mine

amazing still it seems
i'll be 23
i won't always love what i'll never have
i won't always live in my regret

you'll sit alone forever if you wait for the right time
what are you hoping for?
i'm here, i'm now, i'm ready
holding on tight
don't give away the end
the one thing that stays mine

Jimmy Eat World...
This song...I...I feel like I wrote it! It's so...it speaks to me so much right now.

On another note, I have to open the store with another junior tomorrow which I have never done. And on another note, I should get started on my assignments. When I wanna get on with them, I always find something better to do at the last minute.

love is the slowest form of suicide.

Realization.

~crypticpoet — Fri, 15 Jul 2005 02:43:06 PDT
L O V E i s t h e s l o w e s t f o r m o f s u i c i d e

Best. Quote. Ever.

Steven

~crypticpoet — Wed, 13 Jul 2005 06:11:12 PDT
its people like you that make me bleed
blind me, try me, make me need
use my torment as you dare
make me tell you that i care
force-fed love turned bitter; dry
use me further then watch me cry
i bled and bled and bleed for you
and still you want it proved true
take me as far out you need
then load the gun and whisper
you love me

you love me
you love me
you love me
you hate me

live for your self-obsession
die to your false confession
this part of me
you said you need
will never be yours
never be yours

------------------------------------------

It's people like him that use me.
Then victimize themselves to make me look like the enemy.
Tread on my already shattered heart.
Make sure there's nothing left.

------------------------------------------

I dedicate this to you, Steven. With a dead rose to how much you hurt me.

Am I Only Dreaming?

~crypticpoet — Sun, 10 Jul 2005 23:01:05 PDT
Today, my day consisted of:

Sleeping (only until 9 ;.; )
Skating (PROGRESS!)
Spending an hour and 15 mins in the bath
Dressing wounds

Yah, I have plenty of them. Stupid cuts. I have a scrape on top of a bruise on my knee and that hurts so much! The scrape is bleeding and the bruise is almost black; it looks SO COOL!

Hah. Mum said Oli's hands smell like cigarettes. Oli said "What?! No way! I don't smoke! I've only been out like once today!" and she said "Yeah, and yesterday!"
and he said "I had a shower this morning, the smell would have gone by now!"
and I mumbled "...or at least he hoped it would have." lol he yelled at me for that, then I said "Well, least now you can stop hiding your cigarette packets under my bed. Oh, and the bits of paper you use to roll your weed."
He stood there for like 20 mins explaining to mum that he doesn't smoke. It was amusing.

*Sigh* the attack on London is everywhere. Spread across your TV screens and newspapers for you to wake up to in the morning and realize how safe you never really were.
America.
London.
...
Australia.
I can't help thinking "we're next". And what about if myself, or someone I love happen to be in the place where it happens? My mum goes into court in the city quite often...or maybe I'm just paranoid? It's so scary. I was sitting in the bath, watching the candles I had burning...and I couldn't stop wondering if at any moment, would I wake up? This body I live in...is it real? I feel like at any second I'm just going to snap out of this dream...

On a side note, SOMEONE FLOGGED MY JUMPER. I am SO annoyed because it's not my jumper; it's my brother's jumper! And I wore it more than he did! AH!

That's all for now, folks.

*Yawn*

~crypticpoet — Fri, 08 Jul 2005 03:08:35 PDT
JAM is finally over...

I say that with joy, but also with great dissappointment. In joy because I no longer have to slave over a certain someone or get up at 4am every morning, but dissappointment because the next time I'll see Rocky again won't be for another year, and JAM was damn fun.

I am in so much pain, and I love it. I was skating today at the skatepark, and I was doing manuals off a curb and this guy came up to me (he was like 12 or 13) and then he just started doing all these tricks like ollies and kick flips. Then he started talking to me and showing me all this stuff like what I was doing wrong and how I'd be more comfortable. It was awesome! I also found out that Lauren skates, so she was with me and then this group of like seven guys came up and started skating off the curb like we were, and I befriended all of them quickly in case I made an ass of myself. They were all about 13, except about three who looked my age. And then they set up a ramp and started skating off it. Even Lauren gave it a go...unsuccessfully. Then they started encouraging me and I was telling them that I was still rookie but they wouldn't listen, so I ended up going for it with them cheering behind me.

Well...heh...I kinda...wasn't going fast enough...and didn't make it the whole way up so the front trucks got stuck and I was sent flying forward for ages while the board went in the complete opposite direction, and I fell and gave myself a massive hippie. Then it all went quiet and I stood up and threw my arms in the air and they all started cheering as I was walking towards them. When I got behind them I crawled into a corner and rubbed my hip lol. Owh...I can feel the bruise...
Then after that, there was the TRIBAL PARTY.
Okay there are four tribes, and their names change. But now they were: Cops, Riders, Crusaders, and Hood. I'm part of tribe hood. And basically there's about 500 people per tribe, and you do all these little tribal wars to get point. They're so mad. Today they had this massive hill of tyers set up in a cross shape--one end facing each tribe. They covered that with this massive blue-plastic-sheet-thing. What you had to do, was get a bunch of people from your tribe to bounce up on the trampoline onto a platform, then they had to leap and grab the next ledge with their arms and pull themselves up. Then you had to leapfrog all the way to the intersection of the cross where you meet with the people of all the other tribes.
Then you can do whatever you want to knock them off. Whoever has the most people on their end wins.

Well, I was first to leap on from my tribe. As I was about to do my runoff, there were people massaging my shoulders and yelling in my face and cheering and I was SO psyched up. So I heard the count get to 1 and I RAN. FOR. IT. I sprinted up to the trampoline, bounced onto the platform, then leaped up with my arms...but I was so tired from skating, I couldn't lift myself. I pulled and pulled and got halfway, an dI was just about to gather the rest and just heave myself up, but then I feel these two girls jump up behind me, grab each of my butt-cheeks and just PUSH.
It did help.
So there I was, leap-frogging along, till I got to the middle where there were a bunch of Maori women were waiting for me. (For those who don't know, Maories are the indigenous people of New Zealand. Natural born rugy players. Their men and women are all quite um...largely...built...)
So I went for the attack instead of risking being pushed off seeing as they were already at me and each other anyway. So I grabbed this chick's shirt and pulled, but then two of my own team leaped on my back and absoloutley flattened me against the plastic thing. Then some girl on my right dug her knee into my neck. I had two people sitting on my back, and one on my foot, and a knee in my neck and I was doing the splits over the hump of the cross, so I was finding it difficult to breathe. I was sure I was gonna faint, but I started thinking "I can't pass out now. I can't." So the girl that had her knee purposefully in my neck to stop my movement, I grabbed the stomach of her jumper and pushed with all my strength. I pushed and pushed and her knee gradually removed itself from my neck, and as I was able to look up, I noticed why I was having so much trouble pushing her.
a) She was Maori
b) She had another 3 girls holding onto her, so I was getting them off as well.
Well, they didn't tolerate that. So the girl who had her knee in my neck grabbed me by the HAIR and pulled my head back. So I had her jumper--pushing--and she had my hair--pulling. So we were both equally balanced.
At this point I was wondering if this was actually allowed. I didn't cry out, I just kept pushing (being the genious I am

Guy Sabastian, amoungst other things

~crypticpoet — Wed, 06 Jul 2005 02:04:49 PDT
Yeah, saw Guy Sabastian live today at my church.

I'm not really a big fan, but it's still guy Sabastian, and he has one hell of a talent, that's for sure.
I had some interesting thoughts on the way home. When you're in the car with the window open...If you blink fast enough over and over again, it's almost like the you're seeing the world in photographs. Like it's freeze-framing. I stared out at all the cars. All these different lives that I could never lead. All these people in cars that belonged in places I would never see.
No matter who they were, or what they did...I'd never want to be them.

I'm writing a song with the word "beautiful" in it. Tonight during the worship, there was a lot of free-fall interludes where you could just sing what you want with the music. I found myself singing the lines

Everything about you
is so beautiful

I sang it slow, with different tones and pitches and volume...and it's so weird...the word beautiful can have such a massive impact if it's sung in the right way.
Hmm.

Connection

~crypticpoet — Tue, 05 Jul 2005 03:41:36 PDT
Welps, I've had 2 and a half hours sleep.

AAhhhh so tiiirrreeeddd...

JAM has been awesome so far.

Um. I should probably explain.

JAM stands for "Jesus And Me"; it's a youth conference for people in years 9-12 at high school. Basically it costs $90pp, and people come from all around the world. This year, we've had over 3000 delegates from places as far as Iceland! We had this little dude from Northern Ireland on stage today. His name was Collin, and Rocky said she wanted to marry him.
Anyway. You can choose one elective out of: Leadership, Evangelism, Multimedia, Bands, Vocals, Girl Life, The Brotherhood, Break Dancing, Dance, Creative Arts.
I did vocals last year, and this year I'm doing leadership. Basically the massive groups of people are seperated into different areas. We have the main auditorium which ROCKS because it's huge and the seats are comfortable. Um, then a pastor will come up and talk to you about that specific elective.
I'm so glad I chose leadership.
It's answering questions that I had about my life. They were telling me how to choose my career, what I want for my life, how to find what I'm called to do--and that's all the stuff I've been having trouble with lately.
PLUS ROCKY.
She's an awesome chick that I see only twice a year but we're still so tight. I met her when I was a loner at Summer Camp two years ago, and she started boasting about me so now I'm friends with all of her friends, too. She's in year 12, and she's the funniest, prettiest, fittest person you will ever meet. So in this crowd, I was messaging her (I must have killed half my credit T.T) so I could find her. When I did, she hadn't seen me so I grabbed her from behind and scared the life outta her. Then I jumped the seat and sat down next to her and she goes "Far out, I can't believe I'm sitting next to you!"
It was awesome. She is SO COOL.

*Sigh*. Then there was tonight. During the worship with Darlene and all them...I was so tired I could hardly stand up, but just because you're not jumping up and down in the mosh pitt, it doesn't mean you're not committed.
Throughout the songs....I kept biting my lip and staring at the roof. Then I found myself in tears. I cried throughout the whole thing. The. Whole. Thing. I'm so glad Steve was too oblivious to notice.
The worst part is, I don't even know why. Well, that's the second worst part. The worst part is that I...I think it's a whole bunch of things that I've been pushing away for a long time now. I can feel my faith getting stronger and stronger, and that means I'm going to have to start facing up to the things that I could never defeat. The things that I shut away.

My heart felt...

...So heavy...

Breathe.

Breathe.

Breathe.

And cry.

Cry harder.

Keep going.

I couldn't stop. I had to lean back on my seat for physical support. I had sudden outbursts of poetry in my head, but it felt so real. Describing my own feelings with metaphors.

I don't even know why.

Joyce Meyer

~crypticpoet — Sun, 03 Jul 2005 02:52:06 PDT
We had TEH ONE AND ONLEH JOYCE MEYER preaching at church tonight.

And man, was it PACKED. I've had a really good day. Got up at 6:30am to be at work by 8, had a really good, quiet morning shift before going home at 12 and debating with my brother about something that obviously wasn't important enough to remember, then going to church to do Carpark by 4:30pm. That was actually pretty horrifying. I was walking up to the back of the church at around ten past, and everyone on Carpark had already gathered! So I just went and stood with them, and the guy that was talking eyed me with a smile and said "If you haven't got an outfit, come and get one" (For those of you that don't know what Carpark is: I go to Hillsong, and there's heaps of volunteer work and Carpark is one of them. You wear one of those orange reflecty jacket things and you get a torch, and you basically direct the traffic into the right spots. Last time I did carpark....well I ended up standing there for 3 hours dealing with rude people.)
Anyway. I only did it for like 40 mins because I didn't wanna miss Joyce. Those minutes went quickly because I had a game with Jess to see how many people we could get to wave at us in thier cars. I got to 8 in a row until some sour puss old man decided to ignore me. I wanted to belt out his back lights with a baseball bat T.T
Anyhoo. (I got more waves because I yelled to this chick "I LOVE YOUR CAR!" and then lol...my brothers' ex drove in, and I pressed myself up against the window...she was laughing like hell. I love her, she's so NICE and she's so PRETTY!) Joyce was incredible. I had so much trouble finding a seat. I went to sit down and the guy next to me goes "Oh, that's reserved" and I said "Oh! Sorry!" and I got up, then the guy on my right goes "No, sit down! They've already reserved like 100 seats!" and then they argued. I just ended up thanking the one that defended me and apologizing to the one that wanted the seat, and i went and sat next to this woman with a REALLY COOL TATTOO! She had a pic of a shark on her arm and underneath that she had the Chinse symbols for a shark. AND then....she was SO NICE because during the worship...heh, i have a habit of um...doing the harmony in the songs because the octave is usually too high or too low, so my voice is really distinguished when I sing, and she told me that I sounded "beautiful" so I felt like I owed her a compliment so I commented on her tattoo.

Great Sermon.

The only thing that could possibly annoy me tonight is that my mum is a big flaming pumpus ball of HYPOCRITE and I have to go to Homebush tomorrow to get my pass for JAM..

Anyhoo. OH. MY. GOSH. I'm seeing Rocky again. ROCKEH! I love her, she's SO COOL. I don't see her much because she goes to the city church but I AM THIS WEEK!

Meh. I can't be bothered typing anymore. See ya guys!

Ian...

~crypticpoet — Sun, 26 Jun 2005 06:30:01 PDT
Oh my goodness...I just had an incredible...wow.

[link]

Ian; he's my friend. In case you guys can't be bothered reading that whole thing, here's what struck me:

"Got really tired really quickly so went home, and felt really emo, as i do wen im really overworked and tired. Thank god for tobie....... thats all i can say!

Tobie is the smartest and most beautiful person you could ever meet, and argh..... if i wasnt so macho......... (lol.... shuuddup) i probly woulda cried coz she can make anyone appreciate how lucky they really are. ohhhhhh the things she feels and the way she says them....... im so jealous of how considerate u r to everyone elses feelings......... awww but fanx for cheering me up....... and for the booty call! lol

And the part that he quoted right down the bottom:

"it seems that ive only touched you".... "Maybe im just better at showing that you've touched me"

We had a long chat tonight; about everything. He was telling me that he was feeling weird, and I told him to spill and the conversation went on. Then he said "It seems that I've only touched you" and I said "Maybe I'm just better at showing that you've touched me"

I guess it's people like him that really make you feel like you mean something. He deserves so much more than the crap he's given. Every girl he's been with has thrown it in his face.

He just needs a decent friend. That's where I come in.

God bless that guy.

Skating

~crypticpoet — Sat, 25 Jun 2005 20:43:52 PDT
Man it's tiring. I think I've lost like 100000 kilos by skating. Man, I just can't seem to get it right. At first I thought that being goofy had something to do with it, but then I talked to Cid (a pro skater at my church) and found out that he's goofy!

I'm having trouble with a stupid little ollie! Of about 15 attempts today, I landed ONE perfect ollie. ONE!
I guess it just means practise. But I get tired so easily haha, it really wears out your calves, just by doing the stance, you're putting weight on them.

I walked in the door, threw my board down and yelled "ITS SO FLIPPING HARD!" and Oli leaned back from his breakfast and said "dude...that's exactly what you said about guitar when you started playing it 5 years ago."

Haha I just stopped and thought about it. He's right. I remember wanting to give up guitar because I thought I'd never get the hang of it. Now I've got two people asking me to use thier recording studio to make a CD with my voice and guitar on it.

I just have to keep trying..

...

....It's just taking too damn long! *sigh*. I'll look back on this and laugh when I've mastered grinds, flips and fakies.

...IF I master grinds, flips and fakies.

Ugh...I also bought a DC backpack for $60...owh that hurt...I didn't want to spend anything this week but I'm in dire need for a backpack because shoulder bags aren't really good when you wanna take your board places. The weight isn't even. So it's simple: Backpack when skating, shoulder bag when walking.

.

~crypticpoet — Sat, 25 Jun 2005 01:42:20 PDT
eyes drifting
open, closed
relaxation urged

why am i so tired all the time

On Time!

~crypticpoet — Thu, 23 Jun 2005 05:11:01 PDT
I would like to announce that--for the first time I've ever worked with Shilo--that I got out of work ON TIME tonight!

AND I also didn't spend any money in my account! I'm so proud of myself.

I also have "14/6" written on my hand. I obviously wrote it there to remember it, but now I've forgotten what it is. *sigh*

Some funny events occured tonight. I picked up a long bread stick and said "Emma. I am your mother." and proceeded to beat her with it.

I also saw a little child that was so CUTE oh my goodness so I started um...well...eh heh...

Sqealing. Really high-pitched like. I was running around going "Ooooohhh dazz shooo ky0000ttt!!!" and Emma looked at me and said "And you think that's cute. You should see yourself right now!"
So I threw a bread roll at her and ran

I also raced Emma to see who could do the most stuff within half an hour, and that's how we got out on time because we were racing each other to see who could do the most work.

I think she won.

It's actually pretty cool...I planned to have a big sulk tonight, but looking back on it now, I can't even remember why.
Ahh the amount of injuries on my hands...
I have tiny cuts on my fingertips on a few fingers; the pinky knuckle on my right hand and the knuckle of my ring finger are both bruised, I have a cut that is currently bleeding between my pinky and ring finger knuckles...
It goes on. Why you ask? We sparred today to Killswitch Engage, and I got pretty worked up. VERY good training music. I was versing Simone. We were punching wooden pannels and I forgot to bring my hand wraps so our instructor thought he'd punish me by making me punch barehanded for ages against the wood.
And yah. Teh pain. Now my hands are like, blue.

Woo I'm tired...I have an exam tomorrow. *Sigh*.

Anyhoo, I'm off. Got some praying to do.

Eh heh. Heh. Heh.

~crypticpoet — Wed, 22 Jun 2005 05:10:12 PDT
I can't believe I've written and completed four songs tonight. That's music and all! I've been writing and playing my guitar non-stop since like 5pm.

I can't be bothered putting them up here yet. I'm waiting for my brother to get home. Haha you guys should see my living room. I've got out my electric and both my acoustic guitars, and there are scrunched up pieces of paper everywhere! I'm waiting for Oli to get home so he can play the bass line so I can see how the melody for each song works with the bass lines I've written for them. THEN I'm gonna get him to see if the lead guitar (I've written 3 songs for acoustic, and one for electric) tab fits with the melody tab I've written, and THEN I'm gonna test out the drum notation for of them.

*sigh*

I wish we had a drum kit. It's better than bongos.

The FUNNIEST thing happened this arvo. I was sitting down eating dinner with my brother, and he's got a cold. So we were eating, and I got him to talk to me.
(For those of you who don't know, if you talk to someone who has a dry tickle in their throat and make them talk back, they usually cough.)
So I got oli to talk to me with his mouth full, and before he could finish his sentence, he coughed really suddenly and all this spinach just sailed out of his mouth!! Then I started laughing really hard, but my mouth was full too so I started choking and then mum thought we were bagging her meal out and we were just trying to breathe let alone explain to her.

ooohhh h h h Oli's home. Gotz tae run!

BY THE WAY.

Jess, if you're reading this.......

......

HA HA BECAUSE I CAN WRITE IN BOLD

ARGH!

~crypticpoet — Tue, 21 Jun 2005 05:07:05 PDT
WHY is it that just when I am coming out of my little stage of zombieness, all this bad stuff happens around me?!

EVERYONE IS DYING!!

I read journal, and somebody died. I read journal, and somebody has died. One of my friend's father died the other night.

This is awful, I can't believe it. I can't do anything about it; I don't know what to say to people anymore. I can't face Dean (my friend) because I don't know what to say to him. To anyone.

Far out, what's going on? I've just stopped hurting and now everybody else is. There's nothing I can do, either.

I hate it when I have to sit back and watch.

On a side note, I found $2 today and couldn't bring myself to spend it. I hate spending money that I find because I feel so guilty because it's not mine SO I bought Katrina a chocolate with it. I never really talk to Katrina except for when she wants to borrow my glue or red pen, but now she feels obliged to talk to he HA HA. But she's nice.
The money went to a worthy cause. To add fat onto her skinny little body.

I'm not letting anything destroy my mood now that I'm good again. I haven't felt like this in a very long time, especially the past month. BUT this is like...this is great. I wake up in the mornings and just...I dunno. Well, I roll out of bed because I STILL hate mornings, but by the time I'm dressed, it's cool.

I got in trouble in History for wanting to borrow scissors off Mike. I was immitating them (LOL the imagery) and Maric yelled at me. I said "I was just borrowing--" and he goes "NO, you're not "just doing" anything!" and I just went silent and I got all angry and puffed up and just sat there glaring at him, and then, LOL, Jong turns around and goes "Oi, Tobie." and I looked at him and he goes "Just stab him. Just stab the fat sh**."
Oh man, the morbid part is that I felt so much better. Not thinking about stabbing him, but the fact that Jong did HA HA.

Oh man I'm in a weird mood. I wish everyone would stop dying. Emma was crying today because Alli was bagging her out. I told her to ignore her and she says she is scared of her. I told her that I'm more scared of ants than I am of Alli.

Bah. Going now. Stop dying.

. . .

~crypticpoet — Sun, 19 Jun 2005 04:55:18 PDT
I'll break you and defy you
I'll find a way inside you
I'll be the one to try you
I'm standing to deny you
I'll find a way to keep you out
I'll be the one to face you down
If there's a way to find you
This time I'll be the one
That brings you down

I did it. They saw it.

~crypticpoet — Wed, 15 Jun 2005 02:49:54 PDT
I feel so....I don't know. Nothing. I don't feel anything. It's a good thing, don't worry.

I performed the song I wrote at the Soire tonight. So many people were there because I convinced a lot of my friends to come by telling them that I was performing a song I wrote.

Tonight, I was sitting in the front row, and only the stage was lit up so the entire audience was in the dark. I was wearing a hat (my black hat that i love) so when I got up on stage, my face was shaded THANK GOD.

Anyway. I was sitting there, listening to Natalie play her violin like crazy. Man she's a freak.
I was on the chair, staring at my hands.
These are my hands
Natalie was playing.
I'm up next.
Natalie finished playing.
These are my hands. That is my guitar. This is my heart. These words are my blood.
Applause as I got up on stage.
They're clapping as if I care. These people don't matter. I don't know these people.
They're in the dark.
I can't see them.
They can't see my face.
I don't care what they think.
This isn't about them.
This is about me and him.
Get ready everyone.
I'm going to show you my heart.
Those were the thoughts running through my head.
So I played.
By the first chorus I had my eyes closed.
I'm in my room. I can feel my heart. This is me. Alone. I'm singing to me. To him. To no one.
I wasn't trembling. I wasn't nervous. I was showing them.
I sang. By the second verse I was suddenly finding my guitar so easy to play. I plucked, I strummed, I plucked harder, I strummed harder, I sang louder and louder into the microphone. My voice was letting me sing like that. I was ready to cry by the end of it.

I finished.
Deathly silence.
This is about me and him.
My friends took up the first two rows of seats. They stood up on their chairs and screamed. The rest of the audience stood up and clapped and hollered.
I got off stage and everyone was hugging me.
I was ready to cry.

Then I felt good. I showed them my heart and they didn't even know. Would I have cared if they hadn'tve clapped?
I forgot they were there.
For the first time, I forgot they were there.
Sandra approached me and asked me to tab out the song so she could make a piano score. Aaron said he'd drum if I wanted.
Kayla was crying.
Deanne was crying.

I left straight away to escape everyone. I've decided that I feel good. The thoughts running through my head....so frequent, and so relieving.

I showed them. I showed them my blistering pain and they didn't know.

And they loved it.

They like it because it sounds good. Because I mashed it together from my pain.

I guess good things come out of everything.

Jay...how scary...

~crypticpoet — Fri, 10 Jun 2005 23:54:15 PDT
I had the weirdest day yesterday...

It started off pretty normal, but then, when I got home...

I sat down on the couch with my legs crossed, and I realized I'd sat on my phone. So I picked it up and held it for a while, and then I felt it vibrating. So I looked and my phone didn't recognise the number, and I answered.

And it was Jay. I broke up with Jay a while before I joined this site. He was a bad-ass, good-looking ex-satanist turned christian, and my mum hated him so much. I was still so easily manipulated. I mean, I've changed so much since then. You guys could probably tell just by reading my journal entries.
He was probably one of...well, my most romantic experiences. He had the looks, and he knew what to say. According to him, I really changed him. Like, he was a player and he said that when he met me, he couldn't even look at another girl. He always said stuff like that, you know, the usual flattery.
We did all the stuff you'd see in the movies. Kissing in the rain, hiding away from everyone (my mother and step father) who criticized us, him protecting me from everything...
But there was one specific time we had in a spa. NOTHING HAPPENED, because I would never let it, but it was just...really...it burned into my memory. We just talked a little...like, about everything...then we just...well...
Ugh, I don't know how else to put it. So I'll use my soppy, teary chick-flick description: We ended up in each others arms, and it was the first passionate kiss we'd had. (I hate saying 'pash', it's so...ew. Like. Yeah.)
Anyway...that memory always stayed with me. I was forced to tell him that I didn't care about him; that I didn't want to be with him. I think only a few people reading this now would know who forced me, but I won't mention names because they have a way of worming their way into my life. But yeah...he was...so distraught...
Then the next thing I heard, he'd moved down to Bega. Which is a little further than Ulladulla which means its about 6 hours south of here.

Jay called me.

A year--no contact at all--and yesterday, he calls me. I just sat there and listened for a lot of the time.
I started wondering how I could have ever loved this guy. (He was...my first love.)
Then I remembered.
The thing that I fell for in him was the fact that he was so blunt and straight forward with his feelings. He would tell me how he felt, and why he felt it. He would tell me what he thinks of me; and he'd tell others what he thinks of them.
I love that in a guy. Well, in a person. Someone who can say what they feel without worrying about the fallout. A lot of my friends don't have this perk.
Jay was telling me how I'd hurt him. He said that I can't hold anything against him, and he doesn't hate me, regardless of how much stuff he could hold against me.
"Like what?" I asked.
"Like f****** with my heart, telling me you love me, leaving me..."
Then I remembered. Jay still didn't know the truth.
And I told him. I told him everything, about how I was forced.
Then he understood.
Then he was saying "I've had about eleven girlfriends since you. I couldn't stay with one of them. Because every time I kissed them, I thought of you and the spa. And I just couldn't..."
I sat there silently.
Then I told him I had to go. I needed an excuse to leave.
Jay's final question to me was "Are there still feelings? If you loved me, do you still?"
I told him I'd message him with an answer.

My answer is no. It'll always be no, because I can recognize my biggest problem. Something will happen, and someone will leave me. I'll bleed it out, and then get over it. But then, should that someone spontaneously show up in my life again, all these feelings would show themselves, and suddenly I'm facing it all over again.
And then there's the other thing.
Me and Jay=relationship? ME + RELATIONSHIP? NO. Besides, he lives in Bega, and I'm...not up for long distance relationships. I'm not up for relationships in general, and I don't think I will be for a while. For now, I'm just keeping everyone on the same level. That way if they leave, it'll all hurt the same and I wouldn't have to worry.
I have to message Jay and tell him no.
I stopped loving him a long time ago, and those feelings are trying to rise up, but there's no way I'm going to let them.
Why?
Because that would make Jay my rebound.

...at Wildlife last night, I ran into my RDG leader. She said that there was a guy who came up to her and said "I hear you know Tobie!" she said yes, and apparently he was looking for me like some sort of fanboy.
I missed Wildlife. I forgot how much I love that place; my friends in t...

LOL

~crypticpoet — Mon, 06 Jun 2005 05:05:39 PDT
Mood: eeeeeb.
Listening to: New Found Glory-Truth Of My Youth
Reading: Fight Club

Oh man, I had to write this down:

*Phone rings*
*I answer*
*It's Steven from school* (He's at a boarding school)
"Hey Tobie."
"Hey."
"How're you."
"Ah, but zeh question iz, how are j00?"
"I'm good. I think I'm getting fat."
"Go to the gym, fatty."
"Yeah...they have a gym here."
"Use it."
"I do. But it doesn't work."
"You probably just don't try hard enough."
"Yeah that's probably true. I walk in, weigh myself and walk out."

---

That was THE FUNNIEST thing I've heard all night. Oh man I was laughing for ages. THE IMAGERY LOL.
I've had such a funny day.
Aside from the fact that I've had about 17 people come up and ask me if I'm dating my best friend.
Dan (my best friend) and I were doing line dancing for PE. (WE WERE FORCED, OK?!) and we were the only ones in the class that were at least pretending to be enthusiastic. So we melodramatized every move, and Mr Quin saw us and told us to make up our own routine, so now we have this full on dance routine happening...oh man, it's so funny. You'd have to see it to laugh properly.

Then we managed to convince Sarah that there was bird poo in her hair. (She has a complete phobia of birds now. She's been shat on so many times.) She was completley panicking, and her older sister walked past us and slapped her in the head, and Sarah yells "HA-HA you put your hand in it!!" and her sister just looked back with a really confused expression. And then Sarah just looked at me and I started running but she grabbed my bag and oh man she was so mad at me, but in a joking-kind of way. You can never really make her angry, she's always joking!

Then there's Nicola. Ian and I call her Nic-HOE-la. She loves it. She really likes this guy she works with but he's already got a girlfriend, but apparently he's a real sleaze because he keeps flirting with Nicola. We sat down in a big group at lunch and tried to figure out what we'd do. Then I got dragged away from the group because Julia wanted to show me her gloves, and then Sarah came up to me later on and said "We've found a soloution!"
I said "And that is?"
"Okay! Nicola is going to go up to Tim and say "Will you have sex with me?""
"I know where this is going! If he says yes, he's a sleaze and Nicola gets free sex for once. If he says no, he's true to his girl and Nicola knows he's a good person. It's a win-win situation!"
And Sarah burst out laughing (the free-sex-for-once comment) and I said "That's....really wrong!"

Oh man. What a day.

On a more negative note, I hate it when people patronize me and make me feel like a child. Everyone's been so condescending lately. Telling me that I'm older than I am. (as in, mature for my age--if you don't get it) and they still treat me like I've never set foot outside of home. BAH.

Anyway, I can hear my phone vibrating. It must be THE DAN.

See ya guys.

Revelation

~crypticpoet — Sun, 05 Jun 2005 04:10:12 PDT
Mood: eeeeeb.
Listening to: Trust Company-Today
Reading: Fight Club

Revelation: Rev-e-la-tion:The act of revealing or disclosing.
Something revealed, especially a dramatic disclosure of something not previously known or realized.

Tonight, I forgot where I was. I forgot what I was doing, I forgot what clothes I was wearing, I forgot who I was with, I forgot where I was going, I forgot my name. I forgot who I am.

And that's a damn good thing.

I'm so sick of being a victim to pain. I'm so sick of being brought to my knees by the things that think they can defeat me. Tonight, I died to sin. I am dead to pain, to defeat, to loss, to insignificance, to hatred, to sin.
I died again. Like I died before. Like I will die again.
Once I was back on my feet, I was punched in the mouth and I staggered backwards. Then something sat on my shoulders and I fell all. The way. Down.
I hit rock bottom, and then it began to bury me.
Pain.
Rejection.
Tonight, I bury pain. I bury rejection. I'm turning my back on all the things that claimed my weakness. I will not let those who hurt me dictate my identity. I am who God says I am.
I know who God is.
Tonight, he told me who I am.

I was sitting in the car tonight, looking out the window, and thinking. "If this car crashed right now, and I died, would I go to Heaven?"
Most definatley not.
Looking back on the person I was letting myself become these last few weeks, I started getting scared. The person that didn't care about other people, the person that wrote lyric after lyric about how overrated conformity is, about how much life hurt. The person that sat on the phone to her best friend night after night, scaring the life out of her because she no longer cared about what happened in her life, or why.
The girl that dropped to sub zero.
This was never what I wanted.
This is what pain wanted.
I let my pain--my sense of rejection--take over.
Tonight, I forgot why.

I walked into church tonight and a person approached me. The first thing I thought was "Oh great, this is another one of those guys that come up and greet you if they think you have no friends in the church." I looked at him sourly. He said "Heeeyyy!" and tapped me on the shoulder. I said "Hi..." and he said "You know, I was just thinking the other night: 'I haven't seen Tobie in a while!' How are you?"
I stopped.
I stared.
I felt...so horrible. To think I once knew this person. This guy standing in front of me.
I don't even know his name, but I did back then. I was friends with him, and now, I didn't even remember who he was. The whole time he was talking to me.
Asking me what I'd been up to.
Where I'd been.
How was work.
How was school.
Am I in year 12 this year.
Why are my hands cold.
How was my writing.
I was thinking.
Who are you.
Do I know you.
I recognize your face.
Your voice.
I don't know your name.
Coconuts.
How do I know you.
How do you know me.
Was I that significant to you for you to remember my name.
This person was telling me that he remembered this and that about me.
I didn't remember those things about me.
I was quiet. I was sad. I looked around as he talked. Faces that I couldn't match with names.
Had it really been so long that I'd been in touch with God?
I didn't have the nerve to ask him his name. He thinks I knew.
He knew mine.
He asked me if I was going to Wildlife this week. I said yes. He said he'd see me there.
After the service, I approached Tori. Tori, my old friend. She said I look pale and tired.
That I look different.

I don't want to look different. Pain made me look different.
Now I'm making pain look different.
I'm bashing it in and giving it a whole new face. I'll show it which one of us has control over my thoughts and feelings.

I am dead to pain. I am new again. I am new, back to the old me. The person that guy knew. The person Tori knew. The person that spoke into Tori's life about how she was going to walk again. The person that wrote lyric after lyric about how life was a good thing. The person that wanted to help people.
The person that was close to God.

Pain is an element in my life. That, I can't choose. But I can choose to say that I can make it a small element. I don't need to suffer from the things that hurt me.

I'm going to go to bed now.
And for the first time in a while, I'm g...

The coconut

~crypticpoet — Fri, 03 Jun 2005 02:17:14 PDT
Damn it.

Mood: Meh.
Listening to: Trust Company-Closer
Reading: Fight Club

I think this day made up for yesterday. Kinda. As I was typing that journal, I KNEW I'd regret typing it today. Oh well.

The coconut. I named it Reginald II. (Reginald I is a duck plushie that is sitting happily on my bed right now. Liza gave him to me on her first visit to crappy old Sydney. So the name "Reginald" is courtesty of eliza. MmmHmmM.)
Last night, I was working. I passed a fruit shop. I asked them if they sold coconuts. They said yes. I bought a coconut for $1.50. I have no idea why.

I took it to school today and GEEZ, I didn't know you could get so many people's attention with a coconut. Scott was prancing around with it saying how happy he was because he'd never held a coconut till this day. At lunch, I told Daniel (my best friend) that I wanted to eat it.

It's good having a best friend that knows how to do absoloutley anything and everything and do it well. He's been to Fiji, so he knew how to open a coconut. We had very limited resources, so we hunted around looking for a brick. We found half a brick.
You have to get the top of the coconut, and bash the brick against it once on each side. Then you're supposed to just be able to pull the roof off and drink the inside. Dan...lol...
Okay, Dan is a strong guy. He's good at like every sport you can think of, and I could see his arms like tensing (Emma was drooling) every time he hit it. We got crowded so we distracted everyone and creeped away so we could do it on our own. He hit it again but it wouldn't open, so he got frustrated and just bashed it on one side over and over again until it split right down the middle! The milk (which looks like murky water) was seeping out, and we were panicking because I'd never had coconut milk before and I didn't wanna waste it. We both cupped out hands around it and it was seeping through our fingers, and he's like "AHHH WE HAVE TO FIND SOMETHING TO LET IT DRIP INTO! HOLD THIS!" He got up and bolted to the other side of the main yard to get his bag, and I saw him rip it open, grab his lunch box, tip everything out of it onto the ground and bolted back. We poured the rest of the milk into the lunch box, and Dan, again with quite a lot of strength, pulled it apart so we had two halves. Then we put the milk back into one half and walked back to the others. I'd brought a knife with me (I planned to pry it open with a knife....alotta good that would have done...) and Dan started cutting up the meat inside and giving little bits to everyone.

I still have the other half. It's in the fridge. I swear, Dan's fitness doubled today....if that's possible. It was funny was hell, though. Simone and I drank the milk through straws we borrowed from the canteen. I said "Okay, Simone. I tried the milk--its nice--but its not something you should really have all at once...
...so we're gonna skull it through these straws. ONE, TWO--" and down it went. We both just started coughing afterwards but MAN I love coconut milk. We had nothing to wrap the other half in so we used the glad wrap from Julia's and Simone's lunches. It was awesome.

I bought a ring, gloves, a necklace, My Chemical Romance album, and ALMOST bought Between Angels And Insects (Papa Roach). But nah. I also re-stringed my guitar just then. I'm waiting for the strings to get used to the guitar before I play it...last time I played it right afterwards, the last E string snapped and cut my arm and OH THE PAIN.

...

I'm gonna go play it now. See ya guys.

P.S

I HATE BIG BROTHER URRRGGHHH

Get. The hell. Away. From me.

~crypticpoet — Thu, 02 Jun 2005 05:32:25 PDT
Damn it.

Mood: crying
Listening to: My Chemical Romance-Ghost Of You
Reading: Fight Club

Man, I feel sick.

God, it's cold.

Far out, I'm tired.

I have had the worst night of...a long time tonight. In one day/night I've managed to ruin 2 friendships. And possibly one more. I've also managed to completley rip my heart out in front of my music class. I've also managed to make Justin's parents think that I'm some sort of criminal.

Friendship one: Simone. I was bitching about her and she was walking right behind me. Well, I wasn't bitching. I really try to avoid bitching about people. I was telling Erin how to deal with Simone when she was upset. Usually when Simone is upset, she'll go all quiet and then look at you until you stop pretending not to notice her. Then you ask her what's wrong, she'll say "Nothing" in hope that you'll keep asking her. I was telling Erin "When she says "nothing", just say "okay." if she wants to tell you, she'll tell you. If she doesn't, she doesn't. She's like this because she knows I'm having a hard time at the moment, so she finds something in her life to hate so that she can be sad, too."
Erin said "Yeah but you don't do a very good job at showing it. She makes it really obvious."
Simone was behind us. Simone wasn't very happy. I sat down with her and talked it through. She seemed okay, but I think she's still grumpy.
Friendship Two: Ian. I don't really wanna talk about it. All I can say is that I'm too quick to assume things, and it's all my fault and I accept that. Far out, I hate that part of me so damn much. That's the next thing on my "to change" list.
Spilling Of The Heart: My Music teacher was asking me if I was performing in the Soire (music concert event thing). I said yes. She asked me to play to the class the song I was gonna play. I decided to play the song I submitted here:

[link]

I figured it was okay if no one knew what it was about. I could put so much feeling into that song, and they wouldn't have to know where it came from. I sat out the front with my guitar, ready, and the class wouldn't shut up. So stupid me yells out "hey guys, come on, I wrote this the day my boyfriend dumped me, gimme a break!"
Silence.
So I had to sing them those lyrics, with them knowing what it was about. When I finished, Nicola was crying and Jessi was just staring at me. Mike gave me a huge hug and I just stood there. I can't believe I did that...my music teacher, who is horrible to me, just said "Wow...that's....that's....really good..."
Argh DAMN IT. Damn it damn it damn it.
Criminal thing: Meh. We have this new guy, Justin. And he makes me all these little origami things in Geo when we're both bored stupid. Tonight, I had my back to the counter at work and was complaining about something and I hear this "Hi Tobie!" and I turned around and it was Jus and his dad. I said "Heeeeyyy!!" and Justin says "Which is the best?" (he's Korean. Ya gotta love 'im!). He asked me about 3 times before I understood....then he just bought two cheese and bacon rolls. He said something in Korean to his dad, and his dad went "ooohhhhhhhh!!" and looked at me and said "My son." and smiled. I said "He's awesome" and Jus went RED. And then his dad gave me a $50 note for the rolls, I gave him two $20's and a $10 (that adds up to fifty. Idiot.) and Jus goes "See you tomorrow!" and I nodded and as they were walking away, I watched his dad count the money with a really confused expression on his face. He turned back and looked at me and I just shook my head and gestured for him to walk away. I did it about 3 times before he nodded guiltily and walked away. I was laughing for about half an hour. His dad reckons I'm some sort of thief.

Anyway, horrible night. Horrible week. Horrible life.

...

In a non-suicidal way. I'm JOKIN' life isn't that bad. I like life. I just hate the crap that comes with it.

Night everyone. I'm tired and my eyes are sore. Time to go repair a friendship.

Also, I bought a coconut.

...

I have no idea why.

-----

~crypticpoet — Mon, 23 May 2005 06:08:37 PDT
sleep.
the moment
you close your eyes
the world fades
youre somewhere else
alone
and dark
but for the first time
alone
and dark
is a good thing
and then you wake
and the world
stays the same
and you were somewhere
completley different
where
you wish
you could stay
to escape

Bleh, I don't know. I just know tonight is gonna be one of those nights...where you lay in bed and you think about everything. The problem with me is, I think about things till I get confused and end up with a migrane. Well, a headache. I just like being melodramatic. I can't sleep at all. I just really want someone here--anyone--to talk to. I don't care who it is or why they're near me, I just want to talk to them. About something, anything. I can't even name what I'm feeling right now. Maybe I'm just tired. I always get like this when I'm tired. I want to sleep but I can't, I just can't keep my eyes closed. I think too much. I was told that twice today when I was caught staring at nothing by two different people. They asked me what I was doing; I told them I was thinking. They say I do it too much.
I do think too much. I think about stupid little things that don't even matter.

You know, it's sad. I was sitting outside of Food Tech today and Kayla Hasset came out and sat next to me. I...well, I know her, she's my friend...but we don't talk very often. We're not close at all. I was tired and just wanted to write, but I had to keep the book closed because she was talking to me. I was talking to her about her boyfriend, Mitch. And all of a sudden she's pouring her heart out to me about how she's in love with him. I hesitated. I won't pass that kind of judgement. Whether or not Kayla Hasset knows what love is. I just listened. In the end, she said "So, have you been in love?"
I laughed.
I laughed long, and hard.
I said yes.
She asked me to explain.
I said no.
After that, Natalie came out. Natalie is so incredibly beautiful...and...ugh...she knows it. She has a twin sister, Renee, who got expelled because she wagged too much. They both have black hair and that beautiful olive skin..
I went to primary school with them, so when they changed into complete sluts, they never really payed attention to me because there was an auto-bag-out-boundary that stopped them from making fun of me. We were always neutral after primary school. When Renee left, Natalie was alone. The guys were done with her, and now she still dresses like a prostitute, but she has...no one. She has about two people in the grade, both of which everyone hates.
One day, I sat down with her. She looked really suprised to see me plonk myself there. I said "Natalie, if you could have anything right now, what would it be?" She said "ohhh some chips from maccas..." so I got up, and I bought her some chips. Ever since then, she's been really nice to me. Her two friends hate me, but they're small minded and shallow and oh-so-slutty so I couldn't care less about them. Natalie and I don't talk that much, but it's friendly when we do. Today she came out and didn't talk--as usual. I stood up and turned to look at her and said "You always look so sad."
she said "So do you."
"That's my natural face, I have an excuse! Why do you look so sad?"
"I don't know. I guess I can never be in a good mood at school."
I laughed, "Hah, fair enough. Are you different when you're happy?" (That was a bold thing to say to her.)
She looked up at me slowly, stared for a bit, then smiled and nodded.
I said "Good. I'd like to see it one day."
"You just might with the way you treat me."
"Huh?"
"Never mind. It was a vague compliment."
"...what do you want to be?" (at this point, I'd stopped looking at her.)
"huh?"
"What do you want to be? When you get out of school..."
"I don't know yet..."
"Are you going to do your HSC?"
"Don't know...if I don't, I wanna be a makeup artist. If I do...I don't know...something better."
I got off the wall "I reckon you could be a movie star."

In that moment, her eyes just lit up. She looked up at me like a little girl and said "...really?"
"Of course! You've got that beautiful face and that slender figure. You're perfect for it!"
"Wow...no one's...ever said that to me before."

My heart smashed and fell into a thousand pieces. Natalie is so beautiful, and in that moment, I realized why she was the way she was. She became a slutty person because she needed that security from men that she didn't get from anywhere else. Not even her own friends encourage her.

She said "I'd love to be...if you really think so..."
I said "Of course I think so...

Back On Track

~crypticpoet — Fri, 20 May 2005 03:57:45 PDT
Everything is so depressing. I'm finding it rather amusing.

Well, I'm back on my home computer now. We had to re-format the entire thing and I hehehe.... AM GOING TO HURT SOMETHING.

My step dad ARGH...he was "backing up all the files" and he said he would call me over when he was backing up my stuff.

Guess who never bloody called me over?!

So now, I've lost everything. Yep, folks, EVERYTHING. My stories, my poems, the scanned copies of drawings that I no longer have the original, but MY PHOTOS...my entire photos folder is deleted and that ARGH...

Things are getting pretty bad. Around me, that is. I couldn't care less, actually. I was trying to work tonight because we had Brooke and Shilo on with me. Brooke is useless and stands there and does nothing, and Shilo rocks but she's a...thingo....so she has to stay out the back most of the time and count the money. So I was breaking my back trying to lift all the wires, merch all the bread, clean the windows and the floor while making sure Brooke doesn't make any mistakes on the till, and Mik comes along and stands at the counter. I greet her cheerfully and continue working, even though I can hardly keep my eyes open. Then she's asking me how I am. I don't have much to complain about. Except a few cuts on my lips (they were dry and I smiled...owh..), a bruise on my cheek (I hit my face on the slicer), cuts on my shins (the bread...hit me...it was lethal...) and my body was aching from martial arts (the kid I was trying to instruct...UGH...I've never given as many demonstrations in my life...) So I smiled and said "But other than that, I'm okay I think. A bit tired."
And she says "Oh, this is great. Shilo's in a shitty mood, Brooke is sick, you're tired and spaced out, and....and my life is fucked up altogether!" Then all night as I was trying to close she wouldn't stop talking about all the bad things in her life.

Once upon a time, I would have cared. I still do. Just not as much as to waste energy on someone who wants thier life to change but refuses to do anything about it.

I was walking home the other day, from school. I was so spaced out, I was just staring at my feet. Then I heard this "Tobie!" and I looked up and approaching me was God.
Godfrey. I know it's a bit sacreligious calling him God, but I'm so familiar with the nickname. I'm trying to break the habit. He's a Filipino martial artist, and really, really good at it, too. I never had long conversations with him because his English was never really that good, but he was good friends with my friend Luke, so I talked to him every now and then throughout the years. At the start of this year, he can speak fluent English now so I've been chatting with him.
I said hi and walked with him. He said I've been looking sad latley. I said it's my natural face (LOL). And he said "Hah, I know. But this face is worse." and he did this MEGA frown and I pushed him and laughed and said I'm okay.
He said "Seriously, what's up?"
I don't know what happened...but I started talking to him about things that have been going on. I must have talked 3/4 of the walk to my place...it's a 20 minute walk. Then when I was done, we were half way up the footpath and he stopped, stood in front of me, put his hands on my shoulders and said this:

"Tobie, I want you to do something for me. I want you to take everything that's hurting you, everything you think you know, everything that ever did any damage, and tell it to get fucked. Fuck your TV, fuck your computer, fuck the guys you date, and most of all, fuck pain. Everything you have ever felt and everything you will feel will fade, and the only thing that's going to matter is God."

I just stood there. He tapped my shoulder and said "think about it" and walked away. (He lives across the road from me).

I've been thinking about it.

He's right. All of this...I don't care about all of this. I could have been so much angrier about everything that has been happening...but I don't care. This world can take and take and take from me and ultimatley it doesn't matter. I have my feelings, I have my heart, and I have God.

So, in Godfreys words..

Fuck everything else.

Dead.

~crypticpoet — Thu, 19 May 2005 21:08:05 PDT
I bet you've all missed moi. My computer has absoloutley crashed because my brother let in a trojan and we had to re-format the entire thing. I'm using a school computer now, but hopefully my computer will be up and running tonight so i can submit more stuff.

Anyhoo, I HAVE GREAT NEWS. I got 20/20 for my Religion assignment. I'm stoked ! I'm so proud of myself, I spent so long on that assignment. I'm also out of credit and currently working my butt off to get money. I'm working ALL weekend which sucks poo, but it's worth it, I think. I'd better get paid as much as I think I'm going to.

Anyhoo, gotta get back to my story. Fare thee well.

Assimilated.

~crypticpoet — Sun, 15 May 2005 03:26:36 PDT
I think I've found a few things out this week.

Maybe I just feel older, or maybe I'm still just a little kid inside my head. While good things happen, they seem to feel okay. When they're taken from you, you realize all the things you could have changed to prevent that thing being taken from you. Then you're filled with all this remorse; wishing you could have it all back. You could have everything and treat it the way you should have treated it from the beginning. Throughout the time you have it, you promise yourself that you'll never take it for granted. All the while not knowing that you already are.

Pain is such a weird thing. You think it's gone. For me, it goes when I don't think about it. But for me, it's hard not to think about it when it's happening to me. Then you're lying awake one night, and there's nothing to distract you. Nothing to hit you over the head for thinking about it, nobody to talk to or make you laugh.

Nobody to stop you from thinking about it.

Life goes on for a lot of people, I think. But I don't think it ever stops hurting. People say it'll get easier, and I agree, I think it will. Things have hurt me before, and over time, it's been easier to deal with. But then I'm hit with the faintest memory; the faintest reminder of that thing, and I'm suffering from it all over again.

And it's hard when everything reminds you of that thing.

This kind of pain never fades, and it never becomes less significant to me. It's just that I get better at dealing with it, but it never goes away. That dull ache that promises it'll stay whether or not you can take it. Emotionally, it has me chained around the throat, and that chain is tugged every time I try to free myself, just as a warning, to remind me that letting go is the last thing it has on its mind.
But life goes on? Yes. It does. I can still smile at people and make them laugh. I can still sing to them to let them know how I'm feeling, even though they don't know they know it. The only part of me that is chained are my emotions, so while life is going on for me, I'm filling that part with hope. With the things that tell me it'll all work out. With my faith in God.

I learned a lesson about fear tonight. I sat there in profound thought for a long time, just breaking things down while people talked with a slight shallowness to their conversation. I was thinking about love and pain and fear. I concluded that fear does not exist. It just doesn't. We create it.
I'm going to put it into practice. I'm going to stop believing in fear, therefore taking it out of my life. So I'll be...free.

Well, as free as I can be right now. There's still an important part missing, but I'm working on that, too.

I'm hungry.