Australians

Memories of Australians can be good times.

Being Brave

Being brave is hard work.

I said this once and I'll say it again and again:

Needing to pee badly is the same feeling as being really horny.

I'm Sorry

You once asked me to dream in snow here,

so I did,

assuming that it would melt away

with the gravel and the slush,

but it didn’t.

Its permanence etched onto my bones

as I carried it around with me

and every time I laughed,

a bit of your song flew out of me

into your universe.

And it was funny that

when I stood in front of you,

wild hair and heart unsure,

that when I touched my tongue to yours

you didn’t realise that it was your words

I was giving back to you,

and as we went our separate ways,

you with your new shoes,

me, drunk,

I realised that I now had tattoos

I had no idea how to euthanize.

I’m sorry your mother died the way she did.

I’m sorry she died at all, but I didn’t know her.

If it makes you feel better,

I once loved a boy who told me about his father.

He has long since found someone else to talk about

fathers,

families,

fornication,

fiction,

and she’s beautiful with white skin and coloured eyes,

a pretty voice and the legs of an antelope.

I smiled at his happiness,

as I cried for your mother,

and for my own,

wishing that life was easier on those who were kind,

but that would be unfair.

I didn’t go to Boston on the day he said I would,

instead I lost myself in the arms of a man

who loved other men. 

Oh, Jesus

Oh, Jesus.

Stop Trolling

I usually don't blog upon instinct. I take my time and figure out if I can stand behind what I want to say, even when I don't feel that way.

I think what I'm trying to say is that I'm sick of not being good enough. I don't know whose scale I'm measuring myself up against, but it always seems to fall short. I don't mean to dredge up old hurts, but I don't think the wounds have been healed, to be honest. I've just covered them up with lots of gauze, and I can go on for the most part, but I tend to pick at things so much, especially when other things happen as a reminder.

Do you think there will come a time when the universe has decided that enough is enough? That the universe will stop trolling me and just let me have it?

Until that time, I have Reese, Family Guy, and melancholy tunes.

Cheers.

500 Days of Fairchildren

Actually, it's more like 500 times.

That's about how many times I've listened to this song in the past week.

http://soundcloud.com/fairchildren/garden-gate

You're welcome.

I Survived March 9th!

That's what a girl is supposed to do when March 9th rolls around.

March 9th 2012

What's a girl to do when March 9th rolls around?

Exhaustion

It seems working my body to the point of pure and complete exhaustion doesn't seem to be enough.

My Sneeze was Stuck

I've had a sneeze in my nose for the past 3 days and can't get it out.

After Birth Abortions? Told You So.

http://www.nbcwashington.com/news/weird/Killing-Newborn-Babies-141014423.html

http://www.nzherald.co.nz/lifestyle/news/article.cfm?c_id=6&objectid=10789084


And so on and so forth.

I know this is a thought experiment. There are a lot of things I can say about this, but I won't. What I'll say is this: they are logically consistent.

Not a baby inside the womb, what makes it a baby outside the womb? In this day and age, location does not a person make.

So people, it's time to make up your mind. Is it a person since conception or is it not, because it sure is human all throughout.

It's time feminism became pro-maternity.

Sincerely,

A Girl