What is your occupation right now?
right now, im a bit unsure...
What colour are your socks right now?
white
What are you listening to right now?
mos def
What was the last thing that you ate?
a really bad vending machine cookie
Can you drive a stick shift?
I SURE CAN!!
Last person you spoke to on the phone?
my buddy Pat
Do you like the person who sent this to you?
i love them!
How old are you today?
18
What is your favourite sport to watch on TV
NRL
What is your favourite drink
frangelico and milk
Have you ever dyed your hair
yes
Favourite food?
at the moment, lebanese bread
What is the last movie you watched?
State of Play
Favourite day of the year?
the first day you feel summer coming
How do you vent anger?
swear alot and go running...usually not at the same time
What was your favourite toy as a child?
nintendo 64 and an elephant hehe (im not laughing, the elephants name was hehe)
What is your favourite season?
summer
Cherries or Blueberries
cherries
Do you want your friends to e-mail you back?
Who is the most likely to respond ~
Who is least likely to respond? ~
Living arrangements?
i live with my nene and my uncle
When was the last time you cried?
yesterday
What is on the floor of your closet?
clothes that have fallen off the hangers...its always the same tops...
Who is the friend you have had the longest that you are sending to?
Kim is my longest friend, but im not sending this to her
What did you do last night?
i went to the gym and read a book
What are you most afraid of
people dying
Plain cheese or spicy hamburger
spicy
Favourite dog breed?
bulldog
Favourite day of the week
sunday
How many countries have you lived in?
only australia
Diamonds or pearls?
pearls
What is your favourite flower?
as lame as it sounds, jasmine. my parents planted one in our backyard when i was born so it was always around when i was growing up :)
j
Friday 9 October 2009
Leigh Bianca Garbellini
1. What is your occupation right now?
Credit Control Representative
2. What colour are your socks right now?
Black, white and grey
3. What are you listening to right now?
Caroline
4. What was the last thing that you ate?
Chocolate
5. Can you drive a stick shift?
Not well!
6. Last person you spoke to on the phone?
A customer
7. Do you like the person who sent this to you?
Yes! My Hannah!
8. How old are you today?
23
9. What is your favourite sport to watch on TV
Footy, Netball and Gymnastics
10. What is your favourite drink
Water and Chocolate milk
11. Have you ever dyed your hair
Of course
12. Favourite food?
Pasta and burgers
13. What is the last movie you watched?
Last week I watched "In the Name of the King - A Dungeon Siege Tale" with James. It was a boy movie.
14.. Favourite day of the year?
My Birthday (of course!) and Christmas
15. How do you vent anger?
Road Rage.... haha, nah I usually just have a massive whinge to a friend and feel better
16. What was your favourite toy as a child?
My barbies and also my green stuffed monkey which my Daddy gave me when I was born. Oh and Lego!
17. What is your favourite season?
Summer
18. Cherries or Blueberries
Cherries
19. Do you want your friends to e-mail you back?
Yes please
20. Who is the most likely to respond ~
21. Who is least likely to respond? ~
22. Living arrangements?
I live with a friend :)
23. When was the last time you cried?
A few weeks ago
24. What is on the floor of your closet?
Shoes
25. Who is the friend you have had the longest that you are sending to?
Hannah :)
26. What did you do last night?
Went to the mall, hello where else would I be on a Thursday night?
27. What are you most afraid of
Germsssss! Im a germophobe!
28. Plain cheese or spicy hamburger
Plain cheese
29. Favourite dog breed?
Border Collie
30. Favourite day of the week
Saturday
31. How many countries have you lived in?
Just this one
32. Diamonds or pearls?
Diamonds
33. What is your favourite flower?
My favourites are Daffodils, Birds of Paradise, Frangipanis and Sunflowers :)
Credit Control Representative
2. What colour are your socks right now?
Black, white and grey
3. What are you listening to right now?
Caroline
4. What was the last thing that you ate?
Chocolate
5. Can you drive a stick shift?
Not well!
6. Last person you spoke to on the phone?
A customer
7. Do you like the person who sent this to you?
Yes! My Hannah!
8. How old are you today?
23
9. What is your favourite sport to watch on TV
Footy, Netball and Gymnastics
10. What is your favourite drink
Water and Chocolate milk
11. Have you ever dyed your hair
Of course
12. Favourite food?
Pasta and burgers
13. What is the last movie you watched?
Last week I watched "In the Name of the King - A Dungeon Siege Tale" with James. It was a boy movie.
14.. Favourite day of the year?
My Birthday (of course!) and Christmas
15. How do you vent anger?
Road Rage.... haha, nah I usually just have a massive whinge to a friend and feel better
16. What was your favourite toy as a child?
My barbies and also my green stuffed monkey which my Daddy gave me when I was born. Oh and Lego!
17. What is your favourite season?
Summer
18. Cherries or Blueberries
Cherries
19. Do you want your friends to e-mail you back?
Yes please
20. Who is the most likely to respond ~
21. Who is least likely to respond? ~
22. Living arrangements?
I live with a friend :)
23. When was the last time you cried?
A few weeks ago
24. What is on the floor of your closet?
Shoes
25. Who is the friend you have had the longest that you are sending to?
Hannah :)
26. What did you do last night?
Went to the mall, hello where else would I be on a Thursday night?
27. What are you most afraid of
Germsssss! Im a germophobe!
28. Plain cheese or spicy hamburger
Plain cheese
29. Favourite dog breed?
Border Collie
30. Favourite day of the week
Saturday
31. How many countries have you lived in?
Just this one
32. Diamonds or pearls?
Diamonds
33. What is your favourite flower?
My favourites are Daffodils, Birds of Paradise, Frangipanis and Sunflowers :)
Friday 25 September 2009
From a Pearl, a Pirate and a Beach Yupi to a Beautiful Mermaid
Anita, Anita what can we say
September 9, 1988 what a special day
You were born with chubby cheeks and curly hair
You were so cute it was simply unfair
We became great friends from such a young age,
Even then you had attitude and rage
With your stretchy skin and great, dark tan
Soon every man became a fan
____________________________
From boyfriends to tears to smiles and laughter,
We were always there for each other
Unless of course she started the trouble,
She seemed so friendly and oh so humble
Little did you know she caused the mess,
But unfortunately she would never confess
You would never expect it from the girl so quiet
Something so small to cause such a riot
Like our mums she always cared for us,
Tweezers and needles, sewing our stockings in class.
Always there with great advice,
So straight forward and so precise
If you ever cant find her you know where she’ll be
Cox’s Road, at Michel’s patisserie
With her take away coffee, even when she’s staying
Decaf, large, foam cup, a drop of hazelnut, “sorry Im so annoying”
Her ability to sing has shocked us all,
She thinks she’s good but she’s awful
It took until 20 to get her L’s,
But that doesn’t stop her screeching and her yells
Go left, go right, she was always wrong,
Making our trip ever so long
But in the end we always got there,
Even if it was just going to her house to smoke argileh
___________________________________________
One last story to end this all
Reminiscing about one of Anita’s famous calls
We all know that Anno’s star sign is a Virgo
But she we was little she didn’t understand that so,
She skipped up to her mum as happy as a can be
And said “mummy mummy I’m a virgin look at me!”
Happy 21st Anno, we love you so much
Tuesday 15 September 2009
Sport Shoes Are Such a Waste of Money
Sport Shoes Are Such a Waste of Money
By: Caroline Geroyan
If you have just purchased a new pair of sport shoes I highly recommend that you stop reading now! I mean, I don’t know how Usain Bolt started his running career, but I am quite confident he was not splurging on $250 Nike Max Airs. As a matter of fact, I am certain that he was running around on the dry Jamaican land bare foot, and it doesn’t seem to have done him any harm, in fact it has had the opposite effect.
When you walk (or run) into North Sydney Indoor Sports Centre you can always hear the screeching sounds of rubber sliding against the polished wooden floors. On one particular visit, this sound was interrupted by a loud “AAARGH”. A member of the senior men’s team was lying on the ground as he had twisted his ankle. Funnily enough he was wearing what looked to be an expensive pair of Nike basketball shoes. “Take off his sneakers,” yelled the first aid guy as he came to the rescue, “tool box” and all. Once he had reached the injured player he threw aside his shoes, as though blaming them for the casualty.
Ah yes, the smell of brand new sport shoes comes like a cool whiff of air when the box is opened for the first time, especially when you have paid hundreds of dollars for them. But why would someone do that when so much research has been done, proving that they don’t do us any favours? Gassia Hovagimian, a representative basketball player for the North Sydney Bears explained to me (whilst wearing flashy AND 1 basketball shoes I might add) that sneakers “[don’t] make that much of a difference on your physical performance but more on the psyche.” What she means by this is that wearing a prestigious pair of $200 sneakers heightens an athlete’s confidence so that they “feel” as though they are playing better. Just think of that scene in the 2002 basketball flick Like Mike, when Lil Bow Wow looks down at his sneakers before his basketball game, and whispers “make me like Mike.”
The first modern running shoe was created by Nike in the 1970’s, so its only logical to think that they would have been revolutionised to the point of perfection by now. After all, Adidas has $300 shoes on the market with microchips in them and Asics has spent about $3 million and eight years (three more years than it took to create the first atomic bomb) to invent the Kinsei, a shoe that boasts 'multi-angled forefoot gel pods', and a 'midfoot thrust enhancer'. Each season brings an expensive new purchase for the average runner.
So I guess manufacturers and marketers are onto something here, as despite sport shoes having no physical benefits it has become a $20 billion industry. Just recently my friend Anita decided to buy running shoes, so I thought I would accompany her whilst she looked for a pair. Our first stop was Footlocker. Rachel the sales rep bombarded us with 5 different shoes, each one with a longer, more “sophisticated” name than the last. The price tag on one of them screamed out to me; $279.95, a price I would consider selling my soul for. I nudged Anita, pointing to the tag. Her eyes too popped out of their sockets.
“Why are these ones so expensive?”
“Ahh these are the Asics Gek Kayanos. They’re top of the range, brand new.”
Rachel had nothing else to say. Anita and I stood there, obviously wanting to hear more about this supposed marvel.
“Let me call my supervisor, he can talk to you more about it.”
“They provide extra support and comfort,” he reassured as he paced towards us. Anita looked baffled.
“Uhh okay but don’t all shoes do that?”
“Well these are new and they fit the exact contours of your feet, do you want to try them on?” She didn’t, and walked out of the store very confused.
Two sales representatives from Nike went to watch a cross-country training session at Stamford University. Their job was to determine what type of sole the runners preferred, but to their surprise they found that they preferred…well…nothing.
When they questioned this, industry renounced coach Vin Lannana answered, “…I believe that when my runners train barefoot they run faster and suffer fewer injuries.”
So, the very best runners are given the “very best” shoes, but they choose not to wear them. Even Gassia, who is made to wear “top of the range” sneakers by her coaches, told me that “during every training session or game atleast one player twists their ankles or hurts their knees.” As a matter of fact, every year between 60 and 85% of runners suffer an injury as a result of wearing “top of the range” shoes.
Dr Craig Richards, who has spent a lot of time studying the pros and cons of running shoes, thinks that it is the way companies differentiate their products through clever marketing that makes their “features” attractive.
“They’ve been very careful. No major shoe company has ever said these shoes will decrease your risk of injury. It’s all based on perception…”
This is rather interesting considering what Ashleigh Walden, a fit technician from the Athlete’s Foot, a specialist shoe retailer, has to say. When I asked her what she thinks about all the reports stating that sport shoes don’t provide any paediatric benefit, her initial response was “that’s rubbish!” She told me how “comfort and longevity” are factors in the pricing of a shoe, as well as performance.
“Differences between a cheap shoe and expensive would be amounts the cushioning material, whether it has some kind of traction control system, support…”
But that does not make much sense to me because all shoes claim to have that type of support. Also, paediatricians claim that it is shoes in general that are causing our feet damage, not only sport shoes, so whatever we wear, no matter how many high tech missiles, microchips and memory cards are jammed into them, they are of no benefit to us!
So whats the best type of shoe to run with, if any at all? If they arent doing us any favours, and sporting organisations do not let you run bare foot what do you do? Dr Richard’s answer to this is “ Shoes that let your foot function like you're barefoot - they're the shoes for me.'” Luckily for him (and anyone else who feels the same way) Vibram, an Italian peadiatric company has created the FiveFingers, a shoe that is more like a cross between a glove and a sock. Yeah okay, it sounds like kind of an ugly shoe, but Dr Richards, who recently ran in a cross country marathon, noticed that 3 people other than him were wearing them, so it is approaching the mainstream.
And guess what?
Theyre only $100!
By: Caroline Geroyan
If you have just purchased a new pair of sport shoes I highly recommend that you stop reading now! I mean, I don’t know how Usain Bolt started his running career, but I am quite confident he was not splurging on $250 Nike Max Airs. As a matter of fact, I am certain that he was running around on the dry Jamaican land bare foot, and it doesn’t seem to have done him any harm, in fact it has had the opposite effect.
When you walk (or run) into North Sydney Indoor Sports Centre you can always hear the screeching sounds of rubber sliding against the polished wooden floors. On one particular visit, this sound was interrupted by a loud “AAARGH”. A member of the senior men’s team was lying on the ground as he had twisted his ankle. Funnily enough he was wearing what looked to be an expensive pair of Nike basketball shoes. “Take off his sneakers,” yelled the first aid guy as he came to the rescue, “tool box” and all. Once he had reached the injured player he threw aside his shoes, as though blaming them for the casualty.
Ah yes, the smell of brand new sport shoes comes like a cool whiff of air when the box is opened for the first time, especially when you have paid hundreds of dollars for them. But why would someone do that when so much research has been done, proving that they don’t do us any favours? Gassia Hovagimian, a representative basketball player for the North Sydney Bears explained to me (whilst wearing flashy AND 1 basketball shoes I might add) that sneakers “[don’t] make that much of a difference on your physical performance but more on the psyche.” What she means by this is that wearing a prestigious pair of $200 sneakers heightens an athlete’s confidence so that they “feel” as though they are playing better. Just think of that scene in the 2002 basketball flick Like Mike, when Lil Bow Wow looks down at his sneakers before his basketball game, and whispers “make me like Mike.”
The first modern running shoe was created by Nike in the 1970’s, so its only logical to think that they would have been revolutionised to the point of perfection by now. After all, Adidas has $300 shoes on the market with microchips in them and Asics has spent about $3 million and eight years (three more years than it took to create the first atomic bomb) to invent the Kinsei, a shoe that boasts 'multi-angled forefoot gel pods', and a 'midfoot thrust enhancer'. Each season brings an expensive new purchase for the average runner.
So I guess manufacturers and marketers are onto something here, as despite sport shoes having no physical benefits it has become a $20 billion industry. Just recently my friend Anita decided to buy running shoes, so I thought I would accompany her whilst she looked for a pair. Our first stop was Footlocker. Rachel the sales rep bombarded us with 5 different shoes, each one with a longer, more “sophisticated” name than the last. The price tag on one of them screamed out to me; $279.95, a price I would consider selling my soul for. I nudged Anita, pointing to the tag. Her eyes too popped out of their sockets.
“Why are these ones so expensive?”
“Ahh these are the Asics Gek Kayanos. They’re top of the range, brand new.”
Rachel had nothing else to say. Anita and I stood there, obviously wanting to hear more about this supposed marvel.
“Let me call my supervisor, he can talk to you more about it.”
“They provide extra support and comfort,” he reassured as he paced towards us. Anita looked baffled.
“Uhh okay but don’t all shoes do that?”
“Well these are new and they fit the exact contours of your feet, do you want to try them on?” She didn’t, and walked out of the store very confused.
Two sales representatives from Nike went to watch a cross-country training session at Stamford University. Their job was to determine what type of sole the runners preferred, but to their surprise they found that they preferred…well…nothing.
When they questioned this, industry renounced coach Vin Lannana answered, “…I believe that when my runners train barefoot they run faster and suffer fewer injuries.”
So, the very best runners are given the “very best” shoes, but they choose not to wear them. Even Gassia, who is made to wear “top of the range” sneakers by her coaches, told me that “during every training session or game atleast one player twists their ankles or hurts their knees.” As a matter of fact, every year between 60 and 85% of runners suffer an injury as a result of wearing “top of the range” shoes.
Dr Craig Richards, who has spent a lot of time studying the pros and cons of running shoes, thinks that it is the way companies differentiate their products through clever marketing that makes their “features” attractive.
“They’ve been very careful. No major shoe company has ever said these shoes will decrease your risk of injury. It’s all based on perception…”
This is rather interesting considering what Ashleigh Walden, a fit technician from the Athlete’s Foot, a specialist shoe retailer, has to say. When I asked her what she thinks about all the reports stating that sport shoes don’t provide any paediatric benefit, her initial response was “that’s rubbish!” She told me how “comfort and longevity” are factors in the pricing of a shoe, as well as performance.
“Differences between a cheap shoe and expensive would be amounts the cushioning material, whether it has some kind of traction control system, support…”
But that does not make much sense to me because all shoes claim to have that type of support. Also, paediatricians claim that it is shoes in general that are causing our feet damage, not only sport shoes, so whatever we wear, no matter how many high tech missiles, microchips and memory cards are jammed into them, they are of no benefit to us!
So whats the best type of shoe to run with, if any at all? If they arent doing us any favours, and sporting organisations do not let you run bare foot what do you do? Dr Richard’s answer to this is “ Shoes that let your foot function like you're barefoot - they're the shoes for me.'” Luckily for him (and anyone else who feels the same way) Vibram, an Italian peadiatric company has created the FiveFingers, a shoe that is more like a cross between a glove and a sock. Yeah okay, it sounds like kind of an ugly shoe, but Dr Richards, who recently ran in a cross country marathon, noticed that 3 people other than him were wearing them, so it is approaching the mainstream.
And guess what?
Theyre only $100!
Monday 14 September 2009
A Letter To a Friend Written on a Cold, Lonely Night
>From: Caroline Geroyan (carolinegeroyan454@hotmail.com)
Sent: Monday, 14 September 2009 11:06:09 PM
To: Jasmine Hook (jasmine_hook@engin.com.au)
Heyy Hasmig,
(thats what Im going to call you from now on so you had better GET USED TO IT )
Well like I fully cant sleep and I was thinking about your sweet ass so I thought ide write to you to entertain you while you are at work tomorrow (well technically its today coz thats when our reading it and shit).
Anywayyyyy... So like we are fully going to the Land of Thai!!! Aaargh!!! Yayyyy!!! Massages, food, massages, food, massages (man thats all im going to do there)...oh yeah and of course beach!!! OMG..!!! Cant wait!!!
Oh yeah, my work PC username is caroline.geroyan and my password is password123 (Please dont send emails from my email...I will not go to Land of Thai if u do that) JKS JKS LOL!!
Im soo tired but I cant sleep...whats wrong with me...???
AAAARGH!! I tipped tea on myself and my chin is now burning!!!
BRB
...
Okay so Im like fully back!! I had to go and get a towel...
Where was I? Oh yeah, so log in and look at some accommodation and I will too... and then we will email each other with what we find!! OMG YAAY
Dont u reckon Kanye West is a shit for what he did to Taylor Swift??? Im going to beat him down with my baseball bat....hey, just quietly, do u reckon Kanye WEST is relos with Andrew WEST??? They could have some mad historical connection you know...Do me a favor though, and DONT ask him. Many Thanks.
So0o0o0o0o whats new with you??? Whats the 411? (you know in Mean Girls...when the mums sais that...ooohhhh I fully love that movie) Fully sick and shit...
I think Im kinda tired now..so im going to try and sleep...
Yalla G'night!!
Yalla byeee
<3
ps.. my font is great
pps...im going to add emoticons to this email...i hope u can see them on the work email..
Sent: Monday, 14 September 2009 11:06:09 PM
To: Jasmine Hook (jasmine_hook@engin.com.au)
Heyy Hasmig,
(thats what Im going to call you from now on so you had better GET USED TO IT )
Well like I fully cant sleep and I was thinking about your sweet ass so I thought ide write to you to entertain you while you are at work tomorrow (well technically its today coz thats when our reading it and shit).
Anywayyyyy... So like we are fully going to the Land of Thai!!! Aaargh!!! Yayyyy!!! Massages, food, massages, food, massages (man thats all im going to do there)...oh yeah and of course beach!!! OMG..!!! Cant wait!!!
Oh yeah, my work PC username is caroline.geroyan and my password is password123 (Please dont send emails from my email...I will not go to Land of Thai if u do that) JKS JKS LOL!!
Im soo tired but I cant sleep...whats wrong with me...???
AAAARGH!! I tipped tea on myself and my chin is now burning!!!
BRB
...
Okay so Im like fully back!! I had to go and get a towel...
Where was I? Oh yeah, so log in and look at some accommodation and I will too... and then we will email each other with what we find!! OMG YAAY
Dont u reckon Kanye West is a shit for what he did to Taylor Swift??? Im going to beat him down with my baseball bat....hey, just quietly, do u reckon Kanye WEST is relos with Andrew WEST??? They could have some mad historical connection you know...Do me a favor though, and DONT ask him. Many Thanks.
So0o0o0o0o whats new with you??? Whats the 411? (you know in Mean Girls...when the mums sais that...ooohhhh I fully love that movie) Fully sick and shit...
I think Im kinda tired now..so im going to try and sleep...
Yalla G'night!!
Yalla byeee
<3
ps.. my font is great
pps...im going to add emoticons to this email...i hope u can see them on the work email..
Thursday 30 April 2009
...I Just Want You to Know
Heya,
I really want to tell you something.
I dont want this to be an "annoying" email-I just want you to know a few things, thats all.
Firstly I am glad that we are "talking" again-I know we always
were...but you know what I mean.
Even though I was mad at you and very 'hurt' by you I still sometimes
missed you ...and I know that you would have missed me
too..
You know what really makes me laugh though; it is that you knew
EXACTLY how to push my buttons-and you did it all the time. Yes, you
have told me that you had been hurt 1000 times and that you had "built
a wall around your heart" etc, but I NEVER offended you or put you
down- infact I always tried to talk you up-but you always belittled
me, even if you didnt know.
Please dont take this as a 'personal attack', I dont want to offend
you, I just want you to know a few things. I figured that with both of
us being stubborn and proud one of us needed to clear the air, and I
knew it wouldnt be you. (that was a joke.)
Also, I really appreciate what you emailed me the other day, where
you wrote that if I ever needed someone to talk to I could approach
you-I think that was really nice and mature of you.
Please write back...if not I am pretty happy with you just knowing
Caroline
(written 28th May, 2008)
I really want to tell you something.
I dont want this to be an "annoying" email-I just want you to know a few things, thats all.
Firstly I am glad that we are "talking" again-I know we always
were...but you know what I mean.
Even though I was mad at you and very 'hurt' by you I still sometimes
missed you ...and I know that you would have missed me
too..
You know what really makes me laugh though; it is that you knew
EXACTLY how to push my buttons-and you did it all the time. Yes, you
have told me that you had been hurt 1000 times and that you had "built
a wall around your heart" etc, but I NEVER offended you or put you
down- infact I always tried to talk you up-but you always belittled
me, even if you didnt know.
Please dont take this as a 'personal attack', I dont want to offend
you, I just want you to know a few things. I figured that with both of
us being stubborn and proud one of us needed to clear the air, and I
knew it wouldnt be you. (that was a joke.)
Also, I really appreciate what you emailed me the other day, where
you wrote that if I ever needed someone to talk to I could approach
you-I think that was really nice and mature of you.
Please write back...if not I am pretty happy with you just knowing
Caroline
(written 28th May, 2008)
Tuesday 28 April 2009
Coffee House Conversation: An Interview With George Middleton
Coffee House Conversation:
An Interview with George Middleton
The coffee house was bustling. I glanced the room for my victim. Aha! He watched as I approached, one eye lifted from the front page of the Herald. I took note of the plate before him; crumbs, dirty plastic cutlery and a cardboard coffee cup sporting only residue. “Great, he has finished…”
“Hi my name is Caroline.”
“George Middleton.”
We shook hands. My palms were sweating and George noticed. I think.
“Umm, I need to conduct an interview with a stranger for my assignment, so do you have some time to spare?”
“Yeah sure I am just relaxing”
He was seated upright, obviously anxious.
“Do I need to sign anything? What is it about? How long will it take?”
“Yes I have a form for you to sign, it can be about anything and it won’t take more than 10 minutes.”
I did not have a copy of the form. Luckily, he never asked for it.
“Okay sure”
“Look I don’t have any questions prepared because I didn’t know who I would be interviewing. I guess that I am kind of an amateur.”
I attempted to be funny. He attempted to laugh.
“So what would you like me to tell you?”
“Anything”
“Okay, I will start with my time in Australia”
“I knew that you weren’t from here, you are English aren’t you?”
I had no idea what I wanted to or would achieve through conducting this interview, so I just listened sharply, armed with an even sharper pencil and a notepad made from 100% recycled paper.
“I was born in the south of Dublin in 1939.”
Ah, so it was an Irish accent.
“I moved to Australia in 1963 with nothing but ten pounds in my pocket. Jobs were easy to obtain though, after all I had a good education and had been a banker for seven-and-a-half years.”
I tried my best to make questions out of every detail.
“Yeah I would guess for Anglo Europeans it would have been easy, with the backing of the White Australia Policy.”
“Uhhh anyway, my first job in Australia was in a fibreglass filter company. It was a small factory in Mortdale.”
“Oh Mortdale, where did you live?”
“Bexley”
Suddenly he leant back into his chair, looking as though he was enjoying himself.
I calculated his age in my head, coming to the conclusion that he would have been too young to serve in World War II…
“Did you fight in Vietnam?”
“No I was too old, I was about twenty nine or thirty. I guess I missed out.”
He smiled.
“So you mean in a humorous way, like a pun, like you did not really want to go and you didn’t have to because of your age.”
“Yeah that’s right.”
Silence, but still the bustling of the coffee house…
“My next job was delivering orange juice in and around the city for six months. Then I worked at ANZ bank for two years. I started off as a teller then I became involved more complex stuff’.”
He prided himself on the word “complex”. I questioned it.
“Mortgaging. You know, stuff at the back”
He did not have much more to tell.
.
Change the subject, Caroline!
“Are you married?”
There was that smile again.
“Yes, in fact I met my wife while working at the bank, she was a client.My youngest [daughter] was born in 1973. She has two kids. My eldest was born in 1971. She is not married but she is a medical researcher for UNSW.”
Sometimes I did not completely hear what George was saying. I did not know whether it was because his tone was low, or whether the bustling of the coffee house muffled it.
“I went to Macquarie University to get a degree in accounting. I didn’t work for those three years. The kids had just started school and my wife had just finished uni. She actually worked at Macquarie, specialising in…umm…you know with kids…”
“Kids with special needs?”
“Yeah that’s it. She specialised in children with learning disabilities.”
George did not work during the time he studied. His wife was the breadwinner. I found myself becoming inspired as it was the 70’s, feminism was rife, and here was a young mother with two children working and supporting her family.
“It was really difficult working as an accountant once I had my degree. I worked as a manager but I had no practical experience, as they never taught management roles at uni. They [the workers] never listened to me. You needed to be extra hard headed if you wanted to get your point across.”
George’s story went back and forth. I just listened as the memories flooded his brain and expelled through his mouth.
Suddenly we were back in 1968, before his daughters were born. George and his wife had just bought their home in Epping. During this time they established and ran their own business, “but it was a disaster.”
“Oh, what business was it? Was it an accounting business?”
“No, it was a boarding house in Bondi.”
Interesting.
“How many people could the boarding house capacitate?”
“Twenty.”
A mental image of 20 young hippies smoking inordinate amounts of marijuana within George’s boarding house inundated my brain.
His mind seemed to be ambling too, as he took brief pauses in between each sentence to think about the next.
“…the sheets were changed once a week. We had one common room with a TV, kind of like an old fashioned drawing room… we didn’t do our homework. In order to make a profit we needed to be 70% full –we were never reached over 50.”
I thanked George for his time, stood up, smiled and walked away.
Silence, but still the bustling of the coffee house.
I thought he was heading out but rather he stopped right before me, his palm placed against the strap of his backpack:
“Caroline, could I ask you a question now?”
“Yes of course”
What could he possibly want?
“Why did you approach me out of everyone here?”
“Um, well, because umm, you seemed the most approachable. Also, I personally think older people have a richer story to tell, you know? They have lived longer.”
“So what, I look old and soft?”
Laughter. Awkward Laughter.
“No, no, not at all”`
He smiled, nodded and headed towards the door.
I fixed my eyes on him as he walked. I do not know why he asked that last question, but it made me feel like he wanted to gain revenge for something that I had done to him.
I had my interview, though.
__________________________________________________________________________________________
Reflection: Why did you chose your subject and where would you like to have your article published?
I had no expectations regarding my interview. It is the first time that I had conducted one with somebody I did not know so it was more of an ‘experiment’ for me than a planned project.
I chose George Middleton as he seemed the most communicative. He was merely seated in the corner of the coffee house by himself, reading his paper. Everybody else looked guarded, either studying or chatting with a group of friends. Others seemed unapproachable, dressed in business suits and looking as though they were scurrying.
George seemed rather put off/surprised when I first approached him, making me feel unsure if I made the right choice. I explained the project; even letting him read the question. He agreed to do it, but he was still very presumptuous towards my ‘assessment.’ I did not know what I wanted to ask him and he did not know what to say, so I thought it would be best I become myself, rather than an interviewer, and explained that I had never done anything like this before. At that point he put down his paper and suggested a few things he could talk to me about.
After a few minutes of question/answer I saw that he felt far more comfortable. He was leaning back into his chair, smiling at me and telling me things before I even asked.
As he was walking out he asked why I had chosen him (as I reported in the article). I did not know how to answer I did not want to place judgement on him, nor did I want to offend him. So I told him what I felt and I laughed, hoping to make it appear funny. He laughed too, but I still do not what his intentions were regarding the question.
A few days after interview I remembered that George needed to sign the slip. I mailed it to his home along with an explanation. He mailed it back promptly. I have attached the slip, along with the enevelope to my assignment. If this were to be published, I would have the envelope attached, to give the piece a authenticity as interviews are meant to be personal and real.
While writing this article I had ‘society and culture/young adult’ magazines in mind, something like fankie or Nylon. I believe that my piece suits this type of publications perfectly as I have read similar pieces within both of these magazines.
An Interview with George Middleton
The coffee house was bustling. I glanced the room for my victim. Aha! He watched as I approached, one eye lifted from the front page of the Herald. I took note of the plate before him; crumbs, dirty plastic cutlery and a cardboard coffee cup sporting only residue. “Great, he has finished…”
“Hi my name is Caroline.”
“George Middleton.”
We shook hands. My palms were sweating and George noticed. I think.
“Umm, I need to conduct an interview with a stranger for my assignment, so do you have some time to spare?”
“Yeah sure I am just relaxing”
He was seated upright, obviously anxious.
“Do I need to sign anything? What is it about? How long will it take?”
“Yes I have a form for you to sign, it can be about anything and it won’t take more than 10 minutes.”
I did not have a copy of the form. Luckily, he never asked for it.
“Okay sure”
“Look I don’t have any questions prepared because I didn’t know who I would be interviewing. I guess that I am kind of an amateur.”
I attempted to be funny. He attempted to laugh.
“So what would you like me to tell you?”
“Anything”
“Okay, I will start with my time in Australia”
“I knew that you weren’t from here, you are English aren’t you?”
I had no idea what I wanted to or would achieve through conducting this interview, so I just listened sharply, armed with an even sharper pencil and a notepad made from 100% recycled paper.
“I was born in the south of Dublin in 1939.”
Ah, so it was an Irish accent.
“I moved to Australia in 1963 with nothing but ten pounds in my pocket. Jobs were easy to obtain though, after all I had a good education and had been a banker for seven-and-a-half years.”
I tried my best to make questions out of every detail.
“Yeah I would guess for Anglo Europeans it would have been easy, with the backing of the White Australia Policy.”
“Uhhh anyway, my first job in Australia was in a fibreglass filter company. It was a small factory in Mortdale.”
“Oh Mortdale, where did you live?”
“Bexley”
Suddenly he leant back into his chair, looking as though he was enjoying himself.
I calculated his age in my head, coming to the conclusion that he would have been too young to serve in World War II…
“Did you fight in Vietnam?”
“No I was too old, I was about twenty nine or thirty. I guess I missed out.”
He smiled.
“So you mean in a humorous way, like a pun, like you did not really want to go and you didn’t have to because of your age.”
“Yeah that’s right.”
Silence, but still the bustling of the coffee house…
“My next job was delivering orange juice in and around the city for six months. Then I worked at ANZ bank for two years. I started off as a teller then I became involved more complex stuff’.”
He prided himself on the word “complex”. I questioned it.
“Mortgaging. You know, stuff at the back”
He did not have much more to tell.
.
Change the subject, Caroline!
“Are you married?”
There was that smile again.
“Yes, in fact I met my wife while working at the bank, she was a client.My youngest [daughter] was born in 1973. She has two kids. My eldest was born in 1971. She is not married but she is a medical researcher for UNSW.”
Sometimes I did not completely hear what George was saying. I did not know whether it was because his tone was low, or whether the bustling of the coffee house muffled it.
“I went to Macquarie University to get a degree in accounting. I didn’t work for those three years. The kids had just started school and my wife had just finished uni. She actually worked at Macquarie, specialising in…umm…you know with kids…”
“Kids with special needs?”
“Yeah that’s it. She specialised in children with learning disabilities.”
George did not work during the time he studied. His wife was the breadwinner. I found myself becoming inspired as it was the 70’s, feminism was rife, and here was a young mother with two children working and supporting her family.
“It was really difficult working as an accountant once I had my degree. I worked as a manager but I had no practical experience, as they never taught management roles at uni. They [the workers] never listened to me. You needed to be extra hard headed if you wanted to get your point across.”
George’s story went back and forth. I just listened as the memories flooded his brain and expelled through his mouth.
Suddenly we were back in 1968, before his daughters were born. George and his wife had just bought their home in Epping. During this time they established and ran their own business, “but it was a disaster.”
“Oh, what business was it? Was it an accounting business?”
“No, it was a boarding house in Bondi.”
Interesting.
“How many people could the boarding house capacitate?”
“Twenty.”
A mental image of 20 young hippies smoking inordinate amounts of marijuana within George’s boarding house inundated my brain.
His mind seemed to be ambling too, as he took brief pauses in between each sentence to think about the next.
“…the sheets were changed once a week. We had one common room with a TV, kind of like an old fashioned drawing room… we didn’t do our homework. In order to make a profit we needed to be 70% full –we were never reached over 50.”
I thanked George for his time, stood up, smiled and walked away.
Silence, but still the bustling of the coffee house.
I thought he was heading out but rather he stopped right before me, his palm placed against the strap of his backpack:
“Caroline, could I ask you a question now?”
“Yes of course”
What could he possibly want?
“Why did you approach me out of everyone here?”
“Um, well, because umm, you seemed the most approachable. Also, I personally think older people have a richer story to tell, you know? They have lived longer.”
“So what, I look old and soft?”
Laughter. Awkward Laughter.
“No, no, not at all”`
He smiled, nodded and headed towards the door.
I fixed my eyes on him as he walked. I do not know why he asked that last question, but it made me feel like he wanted to gain revenge for something that I had done to him.
I had my interview, though.
__________________________________________________________________________________________
Reflection: Why did you chose your subject and where would you like to have your article published?
I had no expectations regarding my interview. It is the first time that I had conducted one with somebody I did not know so it was more of an ‘experiment’ for me than a planned project.
I chose George Middleton as he seemed the most communicative. He was merely seated in the corner of the coffee house by himself, reading his paper. Everybody else looked guarded, either studying or chatting with a group of friends. Others seemed unapproachable, dressed in business suits and looking as though they were scurrying.
George seemed rather put off/surprised when I first approached him, making me feel unsure if I made the right choice. I explained the project; even letting him read the question. He agreed to do it, but he was still very presumptuous towards my ‘assessment.’ I did not know what I wanted to ask him and he did not know what to say, so I thought it would be best I become myself, rather than an interviewer, and explained that I had never done anything like this before. At that point he put down his paper and suggested a few things he could talk to me about.
After a few minutes of question/answer I saw that he felt far more comfortable. He was leaning back into his chair, smiling at me and telling me things before I even asked.
As he was walking out he asked why I had chosen him (as I reported in the article). I did not know how to answer I did not want to place judgement on him, nor did I want to offend him. So I told him what I felt and I laughed, hoping to make it appear funny. He laughed too, but I still do not what his intentions were regarding the question.
A few days after interview I remembered that George needed to sign the slip. I mailed it to his home along with an explanation. He mailed it back promptly. I have attached the slip, along with the enevelope to my assignment. If this were to be published, I would have the envelope attached, to give the piece a authenticity as interviews are meant to be personal and real.
While writing this article I had ‘society and culture/young adult’ magazines in mind, something like fankie or Nylon. I believe that my piece suits this type of publications perfectly as I have read similar pieces within both of these magazines.
Monday 6 April 2009
The Living Room That Has Never Been Lived In
Decorations left over from Christmas remain behind the blinds. It is now April. The stereo system sits upon a cabinet made from what seems to be ancient sand stone, which has a chip in the top left hand corner. I remember when we first moved in the removalists thought that they had broken it. When they apologised mum laughed, telling them that it was “meant to be like that.” They laughed back at mum, questioning why she would buy something that is broken. The DVD shelf is always messy. It hold too many things, none of which are DVDs. Mum has asked me to tidy it up so many times, which I still haven’t got around to doing. My friend Jack always makes fun of the chairs on my dining room table, calling them “masking taped”. This is because they are wrapped in beige leather straps, which resembles masking tape. The table that they surround is made of glass, which sits on four marble slabs. It is a really unusual dining table, so unusual in fact that we aren’t allowed to eat dinner on it, not even on special occasions. Standing near the table is a sand stone giraffe.
My grandmother hates it. She tells me that having animal statues in your house means that you are inviting the devil. We haven’t had any visits so far.
My grandmother hates it. She tells me that having animal statues in your house means that you are inviting the devil. We haven’t had any visits so far.
She Just Kept Stirring
I can’t remember whether it was in the realm of quantum physics or anthropology where I heard the phrase “you can’t observe something without changing whatever you are observing.” I wandered whether Mel would work “differently” while I watched her from the corner of the bustling café during lunch. But she didn’t. She even forgot that I was there; serving the same customers from the various levels of the Innovations building, including me, the young girl who worked on level 2.
As I approached Innocravings café to begin my fieldwork (as I will call it) I spotted Mel serving three old women who were seated outside. They appeared to be dressed in their Sunday best, sporting pearls, gloves and lace collars. Each one of them were holding their mugs up towards their mouths, taking a loud sip every now and then, allowing their red lip stick to stain the white glass. Each lady looked absolutely 'fabulous', nibbling away at her cookie, losing crumbs amid her white chin hair. Mel was smiling pleasantly at them, making small talk as she wiped their table clean, just as they had demanded.
A passer by was nice enough to open the large entrance door for Mel, as she balanced a pile of dirty dishes between the palms of her hands and her chin. She plonked them onto the bench for Michael, the boss, to take inside to be washed. Mel’s smile also washed away as she leaned her body back and stretched out her hand to grab the large garbage bag, taking it out to the huge industrial bin. I considered following her, but decided not to, thinking that I may lose my seat.
Despite the passing through of numerous customers all conversations remained pretty much the same:
Man with beard: How much is the red curry?
Mel: $5.80 thanks
Man with beard: Umm, can I please pay you tomorrow?
Mel: Yeah okay, I’ll put it on your tab. Neeeeext!
Man in suit: What is in this salad?
Mel: Ricotta cheese, pumpkin and English spinach
Man in suit: how much?
Mel: small or large?
Man in suit: How much are each?
Mel: the small is $4.80 and the large is $5.60
Man in suit ponders for a log while
Mel: Sir please move aside.
Man moves out of the queue, still contemplating
…
This lunchtime fiasco actually made me feel rather peckish so I walked up to the canteen, raising my arm to grab Mel’s attention. “How’s it going?” “I don’t know, Ill let you know when I finish the article.” “Sorry I’m so boring” she exclaimed. I suddenly asked her to wait, running back to my table to grab my note pad. I didn’t want to miss a word. “I’m so hungry.” “What would you like?” she responded. “Uh the usual please, with balsamic vinegar.” She filled up a plastic container to the brim (how I like it) with cubed pumpkin and ricotta cheese. I paid for my salad, receiving change of 50c. I requested that it be put towards my tab at which Mel laughed. “Is that all your going to pay off today?” “Yeah, I can’t afford any more than this anyway.” She laughed a little more.
My friend Jack recognised my bag and sunglasses placed solitarily on the chair and table, indicating that they had been reserved. Naturally he offered himself a seat, although I was unsure whether I wanted company while conducting my “fieldwork”. “What are you doing?” he asked when he saw my pencil case and note pad. I explained the assignment. “Isn’t that a little stalker-ish?” “Nu nu she has signed a permission slip, its legit.”
At that moment two tall men strolled into the café. They appeared rather sharp; wearing tailored black suits, leather shoes and what I envisioned as Burberry watches. I could tell that Mel was also taken back. Rather than asking them right off what they “would like” (as she had to every other customer) she allowed them plenty of time. I focused on this scenario, trying to think of something “interesting” to write for my assignment, for which I was becoming desperate. I came up with this: A husband in the 1950’s spontaneously bringing home a work colleague home for dinner. The wife would be expected to serve dinner of course (in this case it was Mel), while staying out of their way. After all, they would probably be engaging in intelligent work conversations that woman had no business in! I looked over to what Mel was preparing for them. One man had ordered a steak sandwich with plenty of gravy and the other had asked for a roast beef roll drenched in barbeque sauce. She held the leg-of-lamb with her little pitchfork, shoving the meat between two buns. “Very hyper masculine” I thought to myself. I realise that my little metaphoric “tale” is probably a result of looking in too deep and sounds absurd, but I couldn’t help it, I needed something interesting to write about this very mundane lunch hour at Innocravings.
By this time Kristina had also pulled up a chair to join Jack and I, who had explained why I was taking notes. “What type of assign…” I ignored Kristina once I saw one of the old ladies from outside calling over to Mel from the coffee counter. I couldn’t hear what they were saying but they seemed dispersed in their conversation. When she left I walked over asking what they had just conversed about. “Oh she had a special request." “Care to share?” I asked. She laughed asking if I was serious. “Yeah, of course, I need every detail!” “Well she asked to not have the ice cream in her milk shake blended.” She was laughing by now, concluding that I must have been very bored to reduce my assignment to such minor, insignificant details.
“She is just stirring…and stirring…and stirring,” repeated Jack as I sat at my table devouring my lunch. I asked him to keep an eye out for me while I ate. “Hey why don’t you write that the guy that she is serving asks her out?” “They would so know that it is made up” I replied, although I was a little tempted to make up something in the essence of excitement. “Well then, I am sure that the marker would be interested to know that she just kept stirring…and stirring…and stirring…”
As I approached Innocravings café to begin my fieldwork (as I will call it) I spotted Mel serving three old women who were seated outside. They appeared to be dressed in their Sunday best, sporting pearls, gloves and lace collars. Each one of them were holding their mugs up towards their mouths, taking a loud sip every now and then, allowing their red lip stick to stain the white glass. Each lady looked absolutely 'fabulous', nibbling away at her cookie, losing crumbs amid her white chin hair. Mel was smiling pleasantly at them, making small talk as she wiped their table clean, just as they had demanded.
A passer by was nice enough to open the large entrance door for Mel, as she balanced a pile of dirty dishes between the palms of her hands and her chin. She plonked them onto the bench for Michael, the boss, to take inside to be washed. Mel’s smile also washed away as she leaned her body back and stretched out her hand to grab the large garbage bag, taking it out to the huge industrial bin. I considered following her, but decided not to, thinking that I may lose my seat.
Despite the passing through of numerous customers all conversations remained pretty much the same:
Man with beard: How much is the red curry?
Mel: $5.80 thanks
Man with beard: Umm, can I please pay you tomorrow?
Mel: Yeah okay, I’ll put it on your tab. Neeeeext!
Man in suit: What is in this salad?
Mel: Ricotta cheese, pumpkin and English spinach
Man in suit: how much?
Mel: small or large?
Man in suit: How much are each?
Mel: the small is $4.80 and the large is $5.60
Man in suit ponders for a log while
Mel: Sir please move aside.
Man moves out of the queue, still contemplating
…
This lunchtime fiasco actually made me feel rather peckish so I walked up to the canteen, raising my arm to grab Mel’s attention. “How’s it going?” “I don’t know, Ill let you know when I finish the article.” “Sorry I’m so boring” she exclaimed. I suddenly asked her to wait, running back to my table to grab my note pad. I didn’t want to miss a word. “I’m so hungry.” “What would you like?” she responded. “Uh the usual please, with balsamic vinegar.” She filled up a plastic container to the brim (how I like it) with cubed pumpkin and ricotta cheese. I paid for my salad, receiving change of 50c. I requested that it be put towards my tab at which Mel laughed. “Is that all your going to pay off today?” “Yeah, I can’t afford any more than this anyway.” She laughed a little more.
My friend Jack recognised my bag and sunglasses placed solitarily on the chair and table, indicating that they had been reserved. Naturally he offered himself a seat, although I was unsure whether I wanted company while conducting my “fieldwork”. “What are you doing?” he asked when he saw my pencil case and note pad. I explained the assignment. “Isn’t that a little stalker-ish?” “Nu nu she has signed a permission slip, its legit.”
At that moment two tall men strolled into the café. They appeared rather sharp; wearing tailored black suits, leather shoes and what I envisioned as Burberry watches. I could tell that Mel was also taken back. Rather than asking them right off what they “would like” (as she had to every other customer) she allowed them plenty of time. I focused on this scenario, trying to think of something “interesting” to write for my assignment, for which I was becoming desperate. I came up with this: A husband in the 1950’s spontaneously bringing home a work colleague home for dinner. The wife would be expected to serve dinner of course (in this case it was Mel), while staying out of their way. After all, they would probably be engaging in intelligent work conversations that woman had no business in! I looked over to what Mel was preparing for them. One man had ordered a steak sandwich with plenty of gravy and the other had asked for a roast beef roll drenched in barbeque sauce. She held the leg-of-lamb with her little pitchfork, shoving the meat between two buns. “Very hyper masculine” I thought to myself. I realise that my little metaphoric “tale” is probably a result of looking in too deep and sounds absurd, but I couldn’t help it, I needed something interesting to write about this very mundane lunch hour at Innocravings.
By this time Kristina had also pulled up a chair to join Jack and I, who had explained why I was taking notes. “What type of assign…” I ignored Kristina once I saw one of the old ladies from outside calling over to Mel from the coffee counter. I couldn’t hear what they were saying but they seemed dispersed in their conversation. When she left I walked over asking what they had just conversed about. “Oh she had a special request." “Care to share?” I asked. She laughed asking if I was serious. “Yeah, of course, I need every detail!” “Well she asked to not have the ice cream in her milk shake blended.” She was laughing by now, concluding that I must have been very bored to reduce my assignment to such minor, insignificant details.
“She is just stirring…and stirring…and stirring,” repeated Jack as I sat at my table devouring my lunch. I asked him to keep an eye out for me while I ate. “Hey why don’t you write that the guy that she is serving asks her out?” “They would so know that it is made up” I replied, although I was a little tempted to make up something in the essence of excitement. “Well then, I am sure that the marker would be interested to know that she just kept stirring…and stirring…and stirring…”
Tuesday 31 March 2009
Wrestlemania!
We fought all the time. Whenever I saw him I wanted to pinch him, and he would always retaliate. Once he almost broke my ribs during a footy warm up session. I don’t know why he charged into me to me; it was touch. I was bruised for days. He told me that he didn’t feel bad about what he had done. He never felt bad about anything.
He promised me that he would come to my basketball tournament that Saturday. He told me that he hated going to "those things", but because I was playing he would come. I was so excited. It meant the world to me for him to be there, and I knew he would because he promised...
Only once did we have a 'real' fight.This time there was no pinching, or bruising, or charging; just spilled water, post-its and hurt feelings. It was at work on Friday night. I walked over to his desk to get post-its. He was on the phone with a customer so rather than asking I just took them…
The water spread before I realised what had happened. It was dripping all over his desk and onto the carpet. Everybody was looking over and all the while he was still speaking to the customer, because you know he wanted to uphold good phone etiquette. I just took the post-its and walked away…
He stomped over and snatched them, even the one I was writing on. Now I was speaking to a customer but he bellowed anyway. "What the hell are you doing?” He was mad. He was mad and I felt like crying. I hade not been yelled at like that since I was child. And so I did what any child would do. I confronted him with an email:
From: Geroyan, Caroline
Sent: Friday, 8 June 2007 5:59 PM
To: Aprahamian, Gabriel
Subject: just reply
Number 1: i didnt mean to tip over everything I just needed post-its. Theyre not even rightfully YOURS but if thats how u feel about them then fine...ill respect that.
Number 2: dont yell at me or talk to me in that tone ever again...i didnt deserve it...it was an accident
Number 3: i need post-its
Number 4: IM SORRY..u cant understand how much it KILLS ME to say im sorry to anyone but dont be angry at me..im really sorry...
From: Aprahamian, Gabriel
Sent: Friday, 8 June 2007 7:06 PM
To: Geroyan, Caroline
Subject: RE: if ur not an armo...ull reply
ive had a really shit week and needed to take my anger out
1 whether there mine or not you need to ask for permission
2 you may not have meant to tip it over but you did so an apology could be helpful
3 you just walked off with out even helping fix it with the post its
4 the way I speak to you unfortunately is not your choice so really don't tell me what to do.
...I didn’t think he would come anymore and so I ran on the court without my good luck charm sitting on the grandstand...
At half time I looked up and there he was! He was wearing the pink t-shirt I bought him so he couldn't be missed.
"Hey look, sorry about yesteday. I know I shouldve asked"
"I dont know what you're talking about."
He promised me that he would come to my basketball tournament that Saturday. He told me that he hated going to "those things", but because I was playing he would come. I was so excited. It meant the world to me for him to be there, and I knew he would because he promised...
Only once did we have a 'real' fight.This time there was no pinching, or bruising, or charging; just spilled water, post-its and hurt feelings. It was at work on Friday night. I walked over to his desk to get post-its. He was on the phone with a customer so rather than asking I just took them…
The water spread before I realised what had happened. It was dripping all over his desk and onto the carpet. Everybody was looking over and all the while he was still speaking to the customer, because you know he wanted to uphold good phone etiquette. I just took the post-its and walked away…
He stomped over and snatched them, even the one I was writing on. Now I was speaking to a customer but he bellowed anyway. "What the hell are you doing?” He was mad. He was mad and I felt like crying. I hade not been yelled at like that since I was child. And so I did what any child would do. I confronted him with an email:
From: Geroyan, Caroline
Sent: Friday, 8 June 2007 5:59 PM
To: Aprahamian, Gabriel
Subject: just reply
Number 1: i didnt mean to tip over everything I just needed post-its. Theyre not even rightfully YOURS but if thats how u feel about them then fine...ill respect that.
Number 2: dont yell at me or talk to me in that tone ever again...i didnt deserve it...it was an accident
Number 3: i need post-its
Number 4: IM SORRY..u cant understand how much it KILLS ME to say im sorry to anyone but dont be angry at me..im really sorry...
From: Aprahamian, Gabriel
Sent: Friday, 8 June 2007 7:06 PM
To: Geroyan, Caroline
Subject: RE: if ur not an armo...ull reply
ive had a really shit week and needed to take my anger out
1 whether there mine or not you need to ask for permission
2 you may not have meant to tip it over but you did so an apology could be helpful
3 you just walked off with out even helping fix it with the post its
4 the way I speak to you unfortunately is not your choice so really don't tell me what to do.
...I didn’t think he would come anymore and so I ran on the court without my good luck charm sitting on the grandstand...
At half time I looked up and there he was! He was wearing the pink t-shirt I bought him so he couldn't be missed.
"Hey look, sorry about yesteday. I know I shouldve asked"
"I dont know what you're talking about."
Sunday 29 March 2009
Caroline, Caroline Pumpkin Eater
Caroline, Caroline Pumpkin Eater
Day 1, May 2:
It is 1.20pm and I have already eaten:
· 4 multi grain Wheat-Bix biscuits drenched in skim milk
· 3 green/jasmine teas
· 3 strawberries
· A handful of sunflower seeds
· A container of road pumpkin, ricotta cheese and spinach with vinegar
· 3 pieces of chocolate.
All this and I am still hungry! I might have some chocolate. No, no I wont. Oh, but I might! Perhaps I shall have a hand full of sunflower seeds instead. I don’t even like them much; I just eat them because the motion of doing so keeps me busy.
I have been sipping away at the same mug of green tea all morning. It is really, really hot. I can’t yet drink it, and \ by the time I can it will be too cold and will taste absolutely abhorrent! Which brings me to my next point: ice tea is disgusting! Tea is meant to be hot! The same goes for coffee! Whipping on a tonne of aesthetically pleasing (but tasteless) cream, on which is sprinkled several kilos of powdered chocolate, and adding a single bean to add ‘aroma’ does not make it taste nice! If anything it makes me feel sick! Whenever I think of ice chocolate I am reminded of those ‘drinks’ my cousin’s and I used to concoct when we were much younger (although we made one of these on the night of my 20th birthday). When we had finished eating, we would plonk left overs into our half full glasses and dare each other to drink it. As we became older, we started bribing one another within money. THAT is what iced coffee is to me!
I miss our Sunday lunches at grandma’s. The whole family would get together and spend the entire afternoon and evening eating, playing cards, gossiping, laughing etc. The men would be in charge of cooking the meat, and the ladies worked in the kitchen, preparing side dishes, salads and the rice. There would always be too much food, and even after we at three plates grandma would always refill them, exclaiming, “is that all that you ate, come on I will put some more for you.” You would say no but she would insist. The only way you could escape was by exclaiming that you desperately needed to go to the toilet, or pretending that you could hear somebody calling out your name.
…And then came dessert. Grandma would always feed me bananas rolled in condensed milk, dipped in cinnamon and wrapped in Lebanese bread. Eating this every day after school is one of my fondest childhood memories. Mum would beg her to stop feeding me:
“Stop it, she’s putting on too much weight!”
“She’s just growing, if she didn’t want it she wouldn’t take it.”
“She is SEVEN! What does she know about self-control? You put something sweet in her face, she is going to eat it!”
Mum has told me many stories about how much I used to eat when I was younger. One time I ate so much chocolate, that when I finally vomited it came out brown. Another time my parents, aunts and uncles all played a joke on me. They bet that I would eat chocolate in my sleep, and so, they placed little bits of what was my favourite at the time, Chomp, in my mouth. And sure enough, even though I was in deep sleep, I chewed and swallowed every bit until I finished the whole bar!
I still love chocolate. I no longer eat it to the point that I need to vomit, though.
Yesterday my favourite chocolate, Nestle Creamy Blend, was on special for $2.49! So I bought a block, and I ate half of it on the way to my friend Shakila’s house.
I ate 3 pieces while driving between Epping and Beecroft Roads. Actually, I had sucked away at each separate piece with the intent of devouring them.
Beecroft Road to Pennant Hills Road: 6 pieces.
Pennant Hills Road to Castle Hill Road: 3 more pieces.
By this time the chocolate became like a drug to me. After the first hit of that succulent taste and creamy texture I needed more. Sucking just wasn’t satisfying me anymore; I had to bite each bit. Nor was eating one piece at a time. I had to put two, three, four in my mouth at once for that extravagant chocolate hit!
Castle Hill Road to Country Drive: Four more lines.
Nom Nom Nom!
I could have done without my little ‘treat’. If I didn’t go into the supermarket to buy GLEN 20 (yes, yes random I know), I wouldn’t have seen the chocolate that I was so tempted to purchase for a low, low price of $2.49!
Okay, okay I lied! I bought THREE blocks! Chocaholics Anonymous here I come!
Nom Nom Nom!
Oh, and I didn’t offer any to Shak once I reached her place. Stop judging me, it is just too good to give away!
“Hey, you made it over quick”
“There wasn’t much traffic”
“Ohh okay, do you want to go and have some Thai for dinner?”
“Nu nu I am on a diet”
“Ooh come on, are you sure?”
“Okay, fine, whatever”
So much for the DIET!
We went to this great place at Hornsby. I don’t remember what it is called (even though we had been there almost 100 times). In the interest of not sounding like a restaurant review, lets just say that the food there is really yummy!
Shak ordered Pad Thai. She always orders the same dish, and always says the same thing when she has finished:
“Next time I’ll order something different.”
I ordered a Pad Thai too. I tried to be a little more cultural and order something like fried rice, but there were too many options, I didn’t know what anything was, and the waitress was standing over me eager to take my order. So I succumbed to the pressure and ordered the regular.
As usual, once we finished our meals Shak felt sick and I unbuttoned my jeans.
“Hey Caroline, do you want dessert?”
“Nuu, I am on a diet, remember?”
“ Oooh come on!”
“Okay, I will have a sticky date pudding.”
…
I was invited to my best friend’s house for a dinner party last Friday night. It had taken her two days to prepare. She served:
lasagne
vegie pizza
garden salad
ricotta and spinach pasta shells
I watched as she placed each dish on the table, setting mats under the ones that were hot. As soon as she yelled out that dinner was ready everybody stopped what they were doing and scurried to the table. For about ten minutes nobody said a word, their mouths opening only to ingest food and sip their drinks.
That’s the thing about food: it is the one thing that everybody has in common. I am amazed at its force, how people slave for it, kill for it and even die for it! In this case it brought together a group of boys and girls who had not seen each other for over a month. There was always an excuse: some of us had too much uni work to do, others were travelling and sometimes people’s parents didn’t let them go out. But this time the reason to meet was dinner, and the seven of us succumbed to it.
Oh, and also mandarins are in season.
Day 1, May 2:
It is 1.20pm and I have already eaten:
· 4 multi grain Wheat-Bix biscuits drenched in skim milk
· 3 green/jasmine teas
· 3 strawberries
· A handful of sunflower seeds
· A container of road pumpkin, ricotta cheese and spinach with vinegar
· 3 pieces of chocolate.
All this and I am still hungry! I might have some chocolate. No, no I wont. Oh, but I might! Perhaps I shall have a hand full of sunflower seeds instead. I don’t even like them much; I just eat them because the motion of doing so keeps me busy.
I have been sipping away at the same mug of green tea all morning. It is really, really hot. I can’t yet drink it, and \ by the time I can it will be too cold and will taste absolutely abhorrent! Which brings me to my next point: ice tea is disgusting! Tea is meant to be hot! The same goes for coffee! Whipping on a tonne of aesthetically pleasing (but tasteless) cream, on which is sprinkled several kilos of powdered chocolate, and adding a single bean to add ‘aroma’ does not make it taste nice! If anything it makes me feel sick! Whenever I think of ice chocolate I am reminded of those ‘drinks’ my cousin’s and I used to concoct when we were much younger (although we made one of these on the night of my 20th birthday). When we had finished eating, we would plonk left overs into our half full glasses and dare each other to drink it. As we became older, we started bribing one another within money. THAT is what iced coffee is to me!
I miss our Sunday lunches at grandma’s. The whole family would get together and spend the entire afternoon and evening eating, playing cards, gossiping, laughing etc. The men would be in charge of cooking the meat, and the ladies worked in the kitchen, preparing side dishes, salads and the rice. There would always be too much food, and even after we at three plates grandma would always refill them, exclaiming, “is that all that you ate, come on I will put some more for you.” You would say no but she would insist. The only way you could escape was by exclaiming that you desperately needed to go to the toilet, or pretending that you could hear somebody calling out your name.
…And then came dessert. Grandma would always feed me bananas rolled in condensed milk, dipped in cinnamon and wrapped in Lebanese bread. Eating this every day after school is one of my fondest childhood memories. Mum would beg her to stop feeding me:
“Stop it, she’s putting on too much weight!”
“She’s just growing, if she didn’t want it she wouldn’t take it.”
“She is SEVEN! What does she know about self-control? You put something sweet in her face, she is going to eat it!”
Mum has told me many stories about how much I used to eat when I was younger. One time I ate so much chocolate, that when I finally vomited it came out brown. Another time my parents, aunts and uncles all played a joke on me. They bet that I would eat chocolate in my sleep, and so, they placed little bits of what was my favourite at the time, Chomp, in my mouth. And sure enough, even though I was in deep sleep, I chewed and swallowed every bit until I finished the whole bar!
I still love chocolate. I no longer eat it to the point that I need to vomit, though.
Yesterday my favourite chocolate, Nestle Creamy Blend, was on special for $2.49! So I bought a block, and I ate half of it on the way to my friend Shakila’s house.
I ate 3 pieces while driving between Epping and Beecroft Roads. Actually, I had sucked away at each separate piece with the intent of devouring them.
Beecroft Road to Pennant Hills Road: 6 pieces.
Pennant Hills Road to Castle Hill Road: 3 more pieces.
By this time the chocolate became like a drug to me. After the first hit of that succulent taste and creamy texture I needed more. Sucking just wasn’t satisfying me anymore; I had to bite each bit. Nor was eating one piece at a time. I had to put two, three, four in my mouth at once for that extravagant chocolate hit!
Castle Hill Road to Country Drive: Four more lines.
Nom Nom Nom!
I could have done without my little ‘treat’. If I didn’t go into the supermarket to buy GLEN 20 (yes, yes random I know), I wouldn’t have seen the chocolate that I was so tempted to purchase for a low, low price of $2.49!
Okay, okay I lied! I bought THREE blocks! Chocaholics Anonymous here I come!
Nom Nom Nom!
Oh, and I didn’t offer any to Shak once I reached her place. Stop judging me, it is just too good to give away!
“Hey, you made it over quick”
“There wasn’t much traffic”
“Ohh okay, do you want to go and have some Thai for dinner?”
“Nu nu I am on a diet”
“Ooh come on, are you sure?”
“Okay, fine, whatever”
So much for the DIET!
We went to this great place at Hornsby. I don’t remember what it is called (even though we had been there almost 100 times). In the interest of not sounding like a restaurant review, lets just say that the food there is really yummy!
Shak ordered Pad Thai. She always orders the same dish, and always says the same thing when she has finished:
“Next time I’ll order something different.”
I ordered a Pad Thai too. I tried to be a little more cultural and order something like fried rice, but there were too many options, I didn’t know what anything was, and the waitress was standing over me eager to take my order. So I succumbed to the pressure and ordered the regular.
As usual, once we finished our meals Shak felt sick and I unbuttoned my jeans.
“Hey Caroline, do you want dessert?”
“Nuu, I am on a diet, remember?”
“ Oooh come on!”
“Okay, I will have a sticky date pudding.”
…
I was invited to my best friend’s house for a dinner party last Friday night. It had taken her two days to prepare. She served:
lasagne
vegie pizza
garden salad
ricotta and spinach pasta shells
I watched as she placed each dish on the table, setting mats under the ones that were hot. As soon as she yelled out that dinner was ready everybody stopped what they were doing and scurried to the table. For about ten minutes nobody said a word, their mouths opening only to ingest food and sip their drinks.
That’s the thing about food: it is the one thing that everybody has in common. I am amazed at its force, how people slave for it, kill for it and even die for it! In this case it brought together a group of boys and girls who had not seen each other for over a month. There was always an excuse: some of us had too much uni work to do, others were travelling and sometimes people’s parents didn’t let them go out. But this time the reason to meet was dinner, and the seven of us succumbed to it.
Oh, and also mandarins are in season.
Wednesday 4 March 2009
The Hardest Things:
It has been the hardest thing I have had ever had to do, to:
- see you every morning but not touch you
- laugh with you but not kiss you
- touch you but not taste you
- talk to but not understand you
- walk away when you say good bye
- try not to cry when you hold her hand
- not dream of you when you are all I can think about
- forget your smile
- remember your faults
- laugh as hard as I did when I was with you
- not think of you every second of every day
- not talk about you
- not let you see what you mean to me
- smile your way when I really want to kiss you
- pretend that you don’t exist when you are my world
- not cry when I see you with her
- pretend like everything is fine when I am dying inside
- say goodbye and watch you leave without chasing you
- to drive by your street and not into your driveway
- imagine the rest of my life without you
- think about not having you in my life
- imagine what my life would be like if I had never met you
- listen to love songs and not think about you
- read something and not think about you
- watch something and not think about you
- not have you on my brain the second before I sleep
- not have you on my brain the second before I wake
- know that she is with you and not me
- see you
- not see you
- want you so bad that I want to cry
-to speak with her and act like everything is okay when deep down in side I am trying to understand what she has over me? While trying so hard to begin to comprehend why you chose her and imagine how she could ever make you happy in ways that I could, and so much more. To know that she has you and I don’t, and she may spend the Rest Of Your Life with you and I wont.
- see you every morning but not touch you
- laugh with you but not kiss you
- touch you but not taste you
- talk to but not understand you
- walk away when you say good bye
- try not to cry when you hold her hand
- not dream of you when you are all I can think about
- forget your smile
- remember your faults
- laugh as hard as I did when I was with you
- not think of you every second of every day
- not talk about you
- not let you see what you mean to me
- smile your way when I really want to kiss you
- pretend that you don’t exist when you are my world
- not cry when I see you with her
- pretend like everything is fine when I am dying inside
- say goodbye and watch you leave without chasing you
- to drive by your street and not into your driveway
- imagine the rest of my life without you
- think about not having you in my life
- imagine what my life would be like if I had never met you
- listen to love songs and not think about you
- read something and not think about you
- watch something and not think about you
- not have you on my brain the second before I sleep
- not have you on my brain the second before I wake
- know that she is with you and not me
- see you
- not see you
- want you so bad that I want to cry
-to speak with her and act like everything is okay when deep down in side I am trying to understand what she has over me? While trying so hard to begin to comprehend why you chose her and imagine how she could ever make you happy in ways that I could, and so much more. To know that she has you and I don’t, and she may spend the Rest Of Your Life with you and I wont.
Aniela
Aniela
Aniela has short brown hair, the sort of pixie look that I envy but cannot pull off because my hair is too curly. Damn dad, I had to inherit his genes. I couldn’t have had mum’s hair; dark, long and straight.
Her hair used to be blonde. Since making this huge transition people have thought that Aniela is gay. So, when her hair was blonde and short nobody questioned her sexuality, but now that it is brown she is suddenly regarded as a dyke. What a concept!
“Why did you change your hair colour from blonde to brown” I asked. “Too expensive” she answered. It was at this point that I empathised with her. I also used to have peroxide blonde hair, but $200 every 6 weeks for a full head of foils surely puts a dent in a student’s wallet. Now I pay about $10 and buy what I call “packet colour” from Woollies every six weeks. What a saving! I may not be as aesthetically pleasing, but I carry an extra $190 in my pocket. I don’t think Aniela even colours her hair with “packet colour” because it is really short. She probably cuts it every six weeks. I never asked but it looks neat and in-style enough to assume so.
She told me that she is Polish, a nationality I would have placed upon her. She actually looks like Maja, my Polish friend who also rocks a short, dark do, but nobody thinks that she is a lesbian. Why is that? Come to think of it, she is also an ex blonde. This transition never made anybody second-guess her sexuality. Why is that?
I think that Aniela is a really cool name. Actually, I think Aniela is pretty cool. She lives in Chatswood so she must be snobby. So, so far one might assume that Aniela is a snobby lesbian! That is pretty plausible right. But that’s not why she is cool. She is cool because she just is. Aniela is a short, dark haired, Polish chick from Chatswood who is cool.
Aniela told me about her family. She explained how they escaped from Poland during World War II and eventuated in East Africa, and then made their way to England and then over to Australia during the seventies. Isn’t that cool? Oh and her grandmother is Irish. She must be a drunk then, right?
Aniela had a boyfriend for four years. That’s a really long time, in fact that’s almost a quarter if her entire life! Well actually they went out in primary school too. I thought that was pretty sweet. Hmm she must not be a lesbian after all. Oh, but they broke up all but a year ago and Aniela recently coloured her hair brown, so this probably means that she turned to the same sex after she ended her relationship with her boyfriend?
All across Europe Aniela has been, but funnily enough never to Poland. “But aren’t you Polish?” I asked. “Yeah but I never got a chance to go.” When she told me about her travels I became quite envious. She asked me if I had been to Europe. “I haven’t found anyone that I want to travel with yet,” I answered. “I went with my boyfriend” she responded. I became envious at that also as I too want a boyfriend, especially one with whom I may travel. But they broke up. So I needn’t be jealous anymore.
After all you may have read and heard you have probably figured that I don’t know much about Aniela, besides that she is a Polish girl from Chatswood who has a really funky haircut. Other than that I have merely made many assumptions about her with the minimal information I have. Is she a lesbian because of her short brown hair? Maybe. Is her grandmother a drunk because she is Irish? Perhaps. Is she snobby because she is from Chatswood? Possibly. All really I know for sure is that Aniela is a Polish girl who has a really cool short, brown hair do.
Aniela has short brown hair, the sort of pixie look that I envy but cannot pull off because my hair is too curly. Damn dad, I had to inherit his genes. I couldn’t have had mum’s hair; dark, long and straight.
Her hair used to be blonde. Since making this huge transition people have thought that Aniela is gay. So, when her hair was blonde and short nobody questioned her sexuality, but now that it is brown she is suddenly regarded as a dyke. What a concept!
“Why did you change your hair colour from blonde to brown” I asked. “Too expensive” she answered. It was at this point that I empathised with her. I also used to have peroxide blonde hair, but $200 every 6 weeks for a full head of foils surely puts a dent in a student’s wallet. Now I pay about $10 and buy what I call “packet colour” from Woollies every six weeks. What a saving! I may not be as aesthetically pleasing, but I carry an extra $190 in my pocket. I don’t think Aniela even colours her hair with “packet colour” because it is really short. She probably cuts it every six weeks. I never asked but it looks neat and in-style enough to assume so.
She told me that she is Polish, a nationality I would have placed upon her. She actually looks like Maja, my Polish friend who also rocks a short, dark do, but nobody thinks that she is a lesbian. Why is that? Come to think of it, she is also an ex blonde. This transition never made anybody second-guess her sexuality. Why is that?
I think that Aniela is a really cool name. Actually, I think Aniela is pretty cool. She lives in Chatswood so she must be snobby. So, so far one might assume that Aniela is a snobby lesbian! That is pretty plausible right. But that’s not why she is cool. She is cool because she just is. Aniela is a short, dark haired, Polish chick from Chatswood who is cool.
Aniela told me about her family. She explained how they escaped from Poland during World War II and eventuated in East Africa, and then made their way to England and then over to Australia during the seventies. Isn’t that cool? Oh and her grandmother is Irish. She must be a drunk then, right?
Aniela had a boyfriend for four years. That’s a really long time, in fact that’s almost a quarter if her entire life! Well actually they went out in primary school too. I thought that was pretty sweet. Hmm she must not be a lesbian after all. Oh, but they broke up all but a year ago and Aniela recently coloured her hair brown, so this probably means that she turned to the same sex after she ended her relationship with her boyfriend?
All across Europe Aniela has been, but funnily enough never to Poland. “But aren’t you Polish?” I asked. “Yeah but I never got a chance to go.” When she told me about her travels I became quite envious. She asked me if I had been to Europe. “I haven’t found anyone that I want to travel with yet,” I answered. “I went with my boyfriend” she responded. I became envious at that also as I too want a boyfriend, especially one with whom I may travel. But they broke up. So I needn’t be jealous anymore.
After all you may have read and heard you have probably figured that I don’t know much about Aniela, besides that she is a Polish girl from Chatswood who has a really funky haircut. Other than that I have merely made many assumptions about her with the minimal information I have. Is she a lesbian because of her short brown hair? Maybe. Is her grandmother a drunk because she is Irish? Perhaps. Is she snobby because she is from Chatswood? Possibly. All really I know for sure is that Aniela is a Polish girl who has a really cool short, brown hair do.
Friday 30 January 2009
Child's Play
Remember when you were in primary school and the cool boy (or girl) always teased you? When you told your mum about it she just told you “not to worry” and that “he likes you”? Well what if that kind of 'infantile' behaviour carried on into your adulthood? What if someone of the opposite sex teased you on purpose, constantly putting you down in front of others? That theory sounds kind of justifiable doesn’t it, that there is a 'reason' behind your mysery? But what if you used the “primary school” explanation to justify heartache? Is it viable?
I have been using this very idea to justify my pain. That he is making fun of me because he wants my attention. But I fear, somewhere deep inside that it is more than that, that it is more of an "adult issue". Perhaps he is hurting me to prove to me (and to a certain extent to himself) that he is over me. I am sure children’s theories don’t justify the complex behaviours of adults, or do they? And if they do how should I react? Should I go home, crying, and lock myself in my room or should I face him, ask him what his problem is and tell him to get over it? Can i deal with a child's issue like an adult?
They say that this is an adult’s world, but this problem is child’s play-and I don’t know the rules. His rather immature behaviour and gestures shouldn’t upset me, but the truth is that they do, and I don’t know to deal with it. Sometimes I want to place my face in my palms and cry and other times I want to stomp my feet up and down and shout, but no matter what I prefer him in my life, torturing me, than out of my life, lost deep within my memories. Maybe I am the child here, the one playing the games…with myself. My mind understands the damage he has caused but my heart yearns for more. There is a game of cat and mouse going on here, and as I said before, I don’t know how to play. The scoreboard is on and the clock is ticking, it is the last quater, but it is not over until it is over!
So here I am, a girl in the school playground and the cute boy is tormenting me, but I somewhat enjoy the attention. I run after him as a form of retaliation, making it seem as though I am chasing him away, but deep down inside I know that I am the one running after him, and he is running away…
I have been using this very idea to justify my pain. That he is making fun of me because he wants my attention. But I fear, somewhere deep inside that it is more than that, that it is more of an "adult issue". Perhaps he is hurting me to prove to me (and to a certain extent to himself) that he is over me. I am sure children’s theories don’t justify the complex behaviours of adults, or do they? And if they do how should I react? Should I go home, crying, and lock myself in my room or should I face him, ask him what his problem is and tell him to get over it? Can i deal with a child's issue like an adult?
They say that this is an adult’s world, but this problem is child’s play-and I don’t know the rules. His rather immature behaviour and gestures shouldn’t upset me, but the truth is that they do, and I don’t know to deal with it. Sometimes I want to place my face in my palms and cry and other times I want to stomp my feet up and down and shout, but no matter what I prefer him in my life, torturing me, than out of my life, lost deep within my memories. Maybe I am the child here, the one playing the games…with myself. My mind understands the damage he has caused but my heart yearns for more. There is a game of cat and mouse going on here, and as I said before, I don’t know how to play. The scoreboard is on and the clock is ticking, it is the last quater, but it is not over until it is over!
So here I am, a girl in the school playground and the cute boy is tormenting me, but I somewhat enjoy the attention. I run after him as a form of retaliation, making it seem as though I am chasing him away, but deep down inside I know that I am the one running after him, and he is running away…
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