2001-12-20 - 1:33 p.m.
What I what what what I'm gonna
Do about my destiny
I say no, no...
Nobody's telling me just what I wanna... do do
I'm so fed up with people telling me to be someone else but me
I fear I've lost a few too many brain cells. What other explanations are there for my sudden but vehement agreement with the lyrics of Britney Spears?
I've gotten so used to living a seperate life from my parents. Not talking socially, you know? We used to do that when I was younger ... and now it's like they come into the living room and I sit with them uncomfortably until they decide to go to bed.
Last night when my father decided to go to bed, instead of saying "Good night," I caught myself saying "Thank you..."
I do so love my space. And if you impinge upon it I'll ... pout frustratedly.
Ah yes, one girl, one pout, but so many emotions within the pout.
Speaking of impingers on my space, my mother was just in the room. Well in the doorway. I did my usual "Can you close the door?" thing where I'm silently adding "... behind you ..."
She's all "Did you see your exam results on the net?!" because she's desperate to know. So desperate that I'm thinking about not telling her. Well, once I find out, at any rate. I was waiting for the mail before, because I thought the results were posted out today (I'm delusional, it's tomorrow). I thought I might as well do a traditional "wait by the mailbox" thing. Except it's hot so I stayed on my porch like thing. I love waiting because it gives me a great excuse to be doing absolutely nothing.
Where was I? Ah yes. The mailman came up and my mother got all giddy and waved her arms and went "He's coming, he's coming!". Embarrassed shudder. At least no one else saw that. I got up to him and nearly scared him off his bike. I had creeping shoes on. He handed me next door's mail by mistake, then took it back, and left.
For a few seconds I wondered whether my prayers for my hsc mark to vanish had been answered. But nah, it comes tomorrow. Alex and Helen know what I got, since Helen was desperate to know I let her have my student number and PIN. You can ask them what I got, but if you let it get back to me I will slit you from neck to belly button and dance around with your entrails ...
Done visualising? Good, as long as we're clear on that point.
So, um, it looks like I'm going to that brunch thing at school we're people can sob/shriek over their marks respectively. Which should be pretty interesting considering I don't know my mark. And won't, since our mail doesn't come til about 1.30 here.
Why aren't I the least bit curious over here? I checked out my actual marks yesterday. They're fine enough. I don't really care.
It's just a number and to associate anything of greater value to it is so meaningless... whether I have achieved something marvellous which deserves recognition or whether I have achieved nothing at all and deserve pity ... it doesn't matter, because all emotions about this whole thing are so plasticated that my whole body gags with disgust.
So excuse me while I move on, okay?
I'm sitting here shedding my skin. Wish that one was metaphoric, but it's sadly more literal. The sunburn on my shoulder is peeling ... I feel kind of snakelike. But more like that monster (...buffy? maybe not) which sheds its skin and a smaller monster emerges.
Except the smaller monster is much nastier.
