maybe i'm a lonely girl who's in the middle of something

that she doesn't really understand.

story of my life...oh, i won't go into it. i'm tired and anyway scrubs is on in three minutes. i'll do a real post tomorrow. just needed to put this up (god this thing is addictive) as i only figured out the lyrics the other day and fell in love with this song all over again and again.

Let us be lovers, we'll marry our fortunes together
I've got some real estate here in my bag
So we bought a pack of cigarettes and Mrs. Wagner's pies
And we walked off to look for America

Kathy I said as we boarded a Greyhound in Pittsburgh
Michigan seems like a dream to me now
It took me four days to hitchhike from Saginaw
I've gone to look for America

Laughing on the bus
playing games with the faces
She said the man in the gabardine suit was a spy
I said be careful his bowtie is really a camera

Toss me a cigarette, I think there's one in the raincoat
We smoked the last one an hour ago
So I looked at the scenery she read her magazine
And the moon rose over an open field

Kathy I'm lost I said, though I knew she was sleeping
I'm empty and aching and I don't know why
Counting the cars on the New Jersey Turnpike
They've all come to look for America

All come to look for America

lyrics of the day

mr brightside - the killers

and it's got the sweetest, achiest clip. not just because brandon flowers makes me want to wrap my arms around his shoulders and hug him. he's gorgeous but just the look on his face in the video makes me feel a little teary. watch it and you'll see what i mean.

Coming out of my cage
And I've been doing just fine
Gotta gotta be down
Because I want it all
It started out with a kiss
How did it end up like this?
It was only a kiss
(It was only a kiss)
Now I'm falling asleep
And she's calling a cab
While he's having a smoke
And she's taking a drag
Now they're going to bed
And my stomach is sick
And it's all in my head
But she's touching his chest now
He takes off her dress now
Let me go
And I just can't look
It's killing me
And taking control
Jealousy
Turning saints into the sea
Turning through sick lullaby
Choking on your alibi
But it's just the price I pay
Destiny is calling me
Open up my eager eyes
I'm Mr. Brightside

93.15 is a magic number

or let's hope so. i MIGHT just scrape into arts-languages, cos i got into the broadway scheme. so because i am within 5 pts of last year's cutoff, depending on how many people apply and what they get, i might still get in. if not i could even try flexible entry cos i did well in french. so who knows.

for those who don't know, 93.15 is my UAI, or Universities Admissions Index. it's a ranking amongst the students in my state who want to get into university, ranked according to how we did in our final year of school and in our exams. uni courses have cutoffs, or a certain UAI rank below which students are no longer admitted. it's a BIG thing here, or at least it's made out to be. i'm over it.

i have friends who are pretty much guaranteed to get into their course. (way to get 10pts above the cutoff, sally and lukas!!!) bastards. i will almost definitely get into my second preference, a plain old arts degree. mybe i can transfer.

as long as i get to spend six months studying in france or maybe canada or italy, i don't mind. hehehe.

current music: tim buckley - dolphins

tada!!! 

don't i just know how she feels. 

it's like it's reading my diary.

my internet-tested love-life personality:

The Window Shopper
Random Gentle Love Dreamer
(RGLDf)

key paragraph:

"...of all female types, you are the most
prone to sudden, ferocious crushes. Your results indicate that you're especially capable of obsessing over a guy you just met. Obviously, passion like this makes for an intense existence. It can also make for soul-destroying letdowns."

sudden, ferocious crushes and bizarre obsessions. and i thought it was just me.

For Me This Is Heaven

For Me This Is Heaven

holy shit. i Next Blog after updating last, and two blogs along is a chick born on the exact same day as me with the same taste is soapies and dark-eyed boys. egad!!! want to contact her. is like when i found the chick with my name on LJ. (smeekeet!)

i am officially 86% pure (how depressing)

http://www.okcupid.com/tests/take?testid=17359692280546572367

quote of the day:

"Be true! Be true! Show freely to the world, if not your worst, yet some
trait whereby the worst may be inferred."

-Nathaniel Hawthorne

rant

Forget Nigerian spam scams or sitting in a studio with Eddie McGuire smirking at you. I have THE get-rich-quick plan.
Frustration, not necessity, is the mother of invention. If I had a dollar for every person who’s commented on what a big year this is, asked me how it’s going/gone and inquired as to my plans for next year, the year after that and my career aspirations, my pub fund would be considerably fatter. Now I know that they’re only asking because they’re interested, or trying to be polite, but it does get, well, somewhat tiresome. I quipped to the last person who asked me that, that I was going to get a T-shirt printed up that read, “Yes, Year 12 is a big year, it’s been OK so far though. I’ve been accepted into St Andrews college at Sydney Uni, so all hopefully I’ll end up in arts/languages…yada…yada…yada.” It’ll only get worse once I get my results on Friday
The more I think about the idea of this T-shirt, the more I like it – the sweet bliss of not having to go through the whole spiel but merely directing the inquirer to the text inscribed on the fabric of my upper garment in a bold but aesthetically pleasing font. Instead of repeating the (no doubt astronomically high) numbers, I could just flash them. I could even do personalised versions at $15 a pop.
I could even branch out once I got the business going. Anyone who has ever broken an arm gets sick of explaining exactly how they managed it – my friend A snapped her radius falling off a pool table and faced many a blank look for weeks afterwards - so they could have the entire painful anecdote on one of these shirts; if it’s a particularly funny story on which they’ve been dining out for weeks, the shirt could read ASK ME HOW I BROKE MY ARM BECAUSE IT’S A FUNNY STORY. The same could apply for obvious scarring, dodgy hairdos and botched nose jobs.
To avoid embarrassing faux pas and awkward social situations, T-shirts reading IT’S A BABY NOT A POT BELLY, and perhaps vice versa; or maybe IF YOU ASK WHEN I’M DUE I’LL WHACK YOU WITH MY HANDBAG, which as well as being more subtle, works for both the fecund and the circumferentially challenged.
For retail shopping: IF YOU TELL ME TO HAVE A NICE DAY I'LL THROW UP.
(For retail employees: IF YOU'RE POLITE I'LL MEAN IT.)
In January: YES IT’S HOT, HOW SHARP YOU ARE TO HAVE NOTICED.
Hmmm. Reading over these ideas I detect a distinct current of cynicism. Maybe my original T-shirt ought to read “I don’t care how well I do this year because all I’ve ever wanted to be is one of those crazy old women on street corners who yell obscenities at passing tourists.”
At least if my career as a journalist (or my contingency plan of professional psychotic) fails, I can always earn a living making these shirts. Or maybe it would be better to stick to the classic format of “My parents/sister/boyfriend/third cousin twice removed/postman went to Hawaii/climbed Everest/slept with David Beckham, and all they brought me was this lousy T-shirt.”

from cover to cover

hurrah again! a friend on LJ told me about this thing called blogchalking, hence the ponytailed icon at top telling u a little extra about me. but that in itself isn't the exciting bit - i worked out how to get it into my template with all that html crap. i can do really basic tagging cos of all the posting i do on BoS (powered by vBulletin...) but my brother is fluent. he keeps threatening to teach me.

spent so much money in syd yesterday. bought chrissie presents for ppl:

de-lovely soundtrack for nanna
robbie williams - sing when you're winning
for mum
franz ferdinand (HIGHLY RECOMMENDED) for becky (older sis)
prisoner of azkaban dvd for lucy (younger sis)
the beatles - revolver
for dad (doesn't do my ipod any harm either)
bjork - medulla for ally (cuz)

and (INTERRUPTION: lucy just came in with chocolate and i refused! what is wrong wth me? damned medication keeps me up and my appetite down.) bought the joshua tree for myself, and a skirt, and a bracelet, and loads of cookies, and a juice...etc etc.

and the OC soundtrack, mix 2. forget the pure sudsiness of my favourite soaper (how i do miss seth already, with his nerd-wit and jewfro. love the curls.), the music is fantastic. here be the tracklisting for the second volume of the soundtrack (special faves are starred):

1. Saturday Morning - The Eels
2. Hello Sunshine - Super Furry Animals
3. Smile Like You Mean It - The Killers*
4. A Lack of Color - Death Cab
For Cutie*
5. The Specialist - Interpol
6. Something Pretty - Patrick
Park*
7. You Got Me All Wrong - Dios Malos
8. If You Leave - Nada Surf
9. Big Sur - The Thrills
10. Little House of Savages (live) - The
Walkmen
11. Trouble Sleeping - The Perishers*
12. So Sweet - Johnathan
Rice
13. Popular Mechanics for Lovers - Beulah
14. Walnut Tree - Keane
15. Maybe I'm Amazed - Jem*
16. Eastern Glow - The Album Leaf
17.
It's Too Late - Evermore (Australian bonus track)

there isn't a single track I wouldn't recommend. the two covers - jem and nada surf - are awesome.

i am a very strong advocate of the well-executed cover. ryan adam's version of wonderwall (oasis) is amazing - ethereal, wistful, building achingly towards something that never quite eventuates, leaving you hanging threadbare onto the final note feeling restless but not unfulfilled, and reaching for the repeat button to try and delve deeper into the delicately woven sounds. the original is a classic - i had a magic moment belting it out in the pub with my friends along with the jukebox last night - but the occasionally heavy-handed approach the gallaghers take to performing a truly beautiful song is highlighted all the more by adams' softly, softly approach.
on the other foot, take A perfect circle's recent cover of Imagine, one of the most simple and moving songs ever to grace a speaker. john lennon's original is simplistic but rich, idealistic and ultimately uplifting. the cover sounds like a dirge. note to the APC boys (and girl): i usually like your work, but transposing a song into a minor key and groaning rather than singing it doesn't hold that much artistic merit, and what's more you've probably made a lot of enemies out there in musical fandom. shame.
death cab are masters of the respectful cover - all is full of love (bjork) and this charming man (the smiths) work beautifully - and of the disrespectful also. (i recently got my grubby little hands on a bootleg of ben gibbard doing a live acoustic version on the backstreet boys' 1999 hit "i want it that way", and clearly taking the absolute piss out of it, much to the delight of the audience.)
other faves:
songbird - eva cassidy
wild world - beth orton
with or without you - hamish cowan
creep - damien rice
when doves cry/babe i'm gonna leave you - damien rice
the drugs don't work - ben harper

and the ultimate:
hallelujah - jeff buckley. no words for it.

and that's my rolling-stone rant for tonight.

current music: eastern glow - the album leaf

Here I am, where I’ve been
I’ve walked a hundred miles in tobacco skin,
And my clothes are worn & gritty.
And I know ugliness,
Now show me something pretty.
I was a dumb punk kid with nothing to lose
And too much weight for walking shoes.
I could have died from being boring.
As for loneliness,
She greets me every morning.
At the most I’m a glare,
I’m the hopeless son who’s hardly there.
I’m the open sign that’s always busted.
I’m the friend you need, but can’t be trusted.

something pretty - patrick park

you and the night and the music

And when I see you, I really see you upside down
But my brain knows better, it picks you up and turns you around
Turns you around, turns you around
If you feel discouraged when there's a lack of color here
Please don't worry lover, it's really bursting at the seams from absorbing everything
the spectrum's A to Z.
This is fact not fiction for the first time in years
All the girls in every girlie magazine can't make me feel any less alone,
I'm reaching for the phone
to call at 7:03 and on your machine,
I slur a plea for you to come home.
But I know it's too late, and I should have given you a reason to stay
Given you a reason to stay;
given you a reason to stay;
given you a reason to stay
This is fact not fiction for the first time in years

- death cab for cutie, a lack of color

Save some face, you know you've only got one
Change your ways while you're young
Boy, one day you'll be a man
Oh girl, he'll help you understand
Smile like you mean it
Smile like you mean it
Looking back at sunsets on the Eastside
We lost track of the time
Dreams aren't what they used to be
Some things sat by so carelessly
Smile like you mean it
Smile like you mean it
And someone is calling my name
From the back of the restaurant
And someone is playing a game
In the house that I grew up in
And someone will drive her around
Down the same streets that I did
On the same streets that I did
Smile like you mean it

- the killers, smile like you mean it

I
am thinking it's a sign
that the freckles in our eyes are mirror images and when we kiss they're perfectly aligned
and I
have to speculate
that God himself did make us into corresponding shapes like puzzle pieces from the clay
true,
it may seem like a stretch,
but it's thoughts like this that catch my troubled head when you're away when I am missing you to death
when you
are out there on the road
for several weeks of shows and when you scan the radio, I hope this song will guide you home they will see us waving from such great heights,
"come down now,"
they'll say
but everything looks perfect from far away,
"come down now,"
but we'll stay...
I
tried my best to leave
this all on your machine
but the persistent beat it sounded thin upon listening
that
frankly will not fly.
you will hear the shrillest highs and lowest lows with the windows down when this is guiding you home

- the postal service, such great heights

How can you say your life is empty
So late in the day
Why would you stay another second
Now your sight got in the way
A combination
Of love and aggression
Another second lived
Don't paint the silence black now save me
Don't leave it a day
You got a right to stand or die so maybe
You take chances all the same
Pain comes in stages
If we dont make it
Nothing changes
Now the violence sleeps inside
Abandoned feeling for just a piece of mind
It's the reason why your teething side frustrates me
Now the violence sleeps inside
Abandoned feeling for just a piece of mind
It's the reason why your teething side irates me
Dont leave me to pick up on your questions
Not even a day
It's alright to finish up your sentence
You talk all the same
Pain comes in stages
if we don't make it
Nothing changes
Now the violence sleeps inside
Abandoned feeling for just a piece of mind
It's the reason why your teething side frustrates me
Now the violence sleeps inside
Abandoned feeling for just a piece of mind
It's the reason why your teething side irates me

- south, paint the silence

Maybe I'm amazed at the way you love me all the time
Maybe I'm afraid of the way I love you
Maybe I'm amazed at the way you pulled me out of time and hung me on a line
Maybe I'm amazed at the way I really need you
Maybe I'm a girl and maybe I'm a lonely girl who's in the middle of something that she doesn't really understand
Maybe I'm a girl and maybe you're the only man who could ever help me
Baby, won't you help me understand
Maybe I'm amazed at the way you're with me all the time
Maybe I'm afraid of the way I leave you
Maybe I'm amazed at the way you help me sing my song
Right me when I'm wrong
Maybe I'm amazed at the way I really need you

- jem translates maybe i'm amazed into girlese

allow me to introduce myselves.

i'm bloody complicated.

i suppose i'm what walt whitman would classify as a multitude. dom, among others, often tells me how much i change around other people. it's not that i'm two-faced - god no, that would be way too simple. i've just got all these bits of myself that jostle for dominance, and being around certain people allows certain bits to win out for a while. in a way i do have two of me - there's jo, who writes sometimes beautiful but self-indulgent prose that she sometimes shows to the world and almost always wants to. she watches the sky change and wonders what everybody else is thinking.whenever the phone rings she has a little frission of fear that the caller bears terrible news, and she has a knack of seeing the good in people that has the unfortunate side effect of falling in love a little too easily. way too easily.

then there's holly, who always gives herself a cheeky smile when she catches sight of herself in the mirror. she thrives off the attention jo's writing brings, but secretly wonders if they deserve all the nice things people say about them. she kisses a lot of boys, not worrying about the effect this has on jo's heart and self-esteem, and is often pleased but not overly surprised when she attracts them easily. (after all, she's fabulous.) she hugs people she feels affection for, laughs loudly at what she finds funny, and hoards memories like photos, even though it is only ever jo who pores over them, cringing, giggling, sometimes brushing away tears of regret or nostalgia. holly flings, twirls, leaps, throws, clutches, dives, whoops, sings, dances, cries, shouts shakespeare quotes to the night, and likes to think she doesn't do anything by halves, even though she's not sure how true this is. she smokes - much to jo's disgust - and in a way quite enjoys it, although she dislikes the fag-smell on her fingers the next morning. she craves fame and certain kinds of power, but not as much as she fears misery, boredom, stagnation, being average and uninteresting and forgettable. she's really only jo with more energy, but the main difference is that jo is a lot more honest with herself.

that was taken straight from a diary entry i wrote not long ago. just thought i'd share it. it tells u a little more about me than i'd really want you to admit to either of myselves, i guess, but then nobody reads this thing anyway.
sigh.

saw garden state on monday. cried twice. fell in love with zach braff and the soundtrack. (i love the shins. they will change your life.) afterwards went to the ladies' and looked myself in the mirror for several minutes, dying to go and do something amazing. spent the train trip home staring out the window listening to death cab and south and feeling introspective and suspended.

also on monday, had my college interview. felt so adult talking to the principal of st andrews in my demurely long skirt, describing the kind of difficulties my ADD causes me and telling him all about outback, talking about why co-ed education is important and revealing my intention to take part in a student exchange to europe while at uni. (jo hasn't said so much all at once in a long time. holly mostly kept her mouth shut, thank god.) at the end he practically handed me a key to the front door. a lot rides on my UAI but i was fairly confident afterwards. next year just keeps getting closer.

excited, but a tiny little bit apprehensive.

current music: pink bullets - the shins