The Queen of Flower-Like Weeds

happy birthday.

Wed, 04 Nov 2009 09:02:12 GMT

Before the party, in the afternoon.

Saturday was exhausting. Fun, but exhausting. Zach and a few other of Rowan's old highschool friends rocked up; and his mates from work, too, so in all I think we had about twelve guests here. And they all brought alcohol - alcohol for themselves, alcohol as gifts for Rowan (and I, surprisingly - people have always felt obligated in getting the both of us a present, even if only one of us invited them. The inconvenience of having a twin for a friend, I suppose). There was so much in drinks that the boys, Kyle and Rowan, are still drinking it, like the alcoholics they are.

We have plenty leftover in meat, too, since Rowan and I bought a ton of it; I had figured since my brother and his friends are bottomless pits, we'd need a good amount in steaks and patties for burgers, and whatnot, and whatever wasn't eaten we'd use over the next week or so in our home meals. Pasta salad, potato salad, normal salad, chips, dips, cheeses, sweets... at least the boys were well fed.

The one thing I have learnt with Rowan and his friends is that they function perfectly well without me hovering around, fussing over everything, so I had told myself that I wouldn't make a big deal out of this, the party, but just relax, and let it be causal. We didn't have any pumpkins, which made me sad, but I did set up a few candles for the atmosphere. Zach had wanted costumes, probably the only thing we'll ever agreed one - he was bitching that his girlfriend had gone to a costume party out of town. I'd been thinking of dressing up, honestly, but in the end I just wore one of Rowan's old shirts and a pair of jeans, though I did do my hair. My necklace, my gift from Rowan, was really the only decorative thing I had. I should've known better than to wear it - drunken boys seemed fascinated with the tiny bird in the cage, and kept touching it whenever I was standing around, minding my own business, or asking very loud questions about it. I don't know what's happened to me; three years ago I would've been just as obnoxious and drunk. Instead I just flinched whenever someone crowded me. Rowan wouldn't let me hide in my room, either, which I know I shouldn't of have wanted. It would've been rude but I felt so awkward at times.

It wasn't so bad, though. I mean, despite however I make it sound, Rowan's friends are nice enough. I liked watching DVDs the best, I think. Rowan and I sat on the couch, stretched out; towards the forth movie I think I started to doze off against him. When I woke up properly a few of his friends were asleep, and the others directed to the rooms.

The mess in the morning was awful. And Rowan was still drunk, believe it or not, but we got it done.

Next year, though, I want a proper Halloween party. :P

the nightmare before halloween.

Sun, 18 Oct 2009 10:41:46 GMT

It sucks because this year, like last, our birthday is going to be mainly Rowan and his friends. We're not even making it interesting by dressing up. Not that I'm sure I wanted to, it's just... I don't know. I feel like it won't really be my party. It's Rowan's, truthfully, and while I don't resent him that I just wish I'd kept in touch enough with my friends to have them come.

I don't even like parties. Not really. I've become to uncomfortable with them, with other people. Oh god, that's so bad, isn't it?

I have nothing to wear. Nothing cute. Nothing new. Granddad's lost his job and I think he's worrying about it, even though he seems fine on the outside, positive that everything will be okay. And I don't want to mention something as trivial as a dress, an outfit, but... I want this birthday to be special, too. It's our 21st, it should, right? Yet it feels like it's going to be just another pubcrawl and I hate it, I hate the worrying and the oppressive gloom I have over me, the one that's whispering that yes, this is going to be awful. I feel like that if I believe that then it will be. But if I don't? I don't want to be disappointed. It's like I'm not brave enough to be hopeful, or positive. I feel like I'm losing the girl I used to be, two, three years ago. Rowan says I'm softer now, quieter - I don't know if that's good or bad.

I'm trying to think good thoughts. Granddad will be fine, he's old, he's gone through things like this before. The party will be fine, will be fun.

Everything will be alright. I hope. I really do.

Maybe I should bake cookies.

see if we can get ourselves killed before we die.

Sat, 17 Oct 2009 06:06:29 GMT

What facial feature do you find the most attractive on others?
A smile, the lips. The eyes. Hair. Hands.

Do you like children?
I do, though it's hard to be paitent with them 100%

Would you marry for money?
I could. It would be an awful temptation.

Have you had braces?
No, never

Do you pluck your eyebrows?
Yes

Do you ever cut or hurt yourself?
No, never have. I'm too much of a wuss.

When was the last time you had a hickey?
Haha, never I'm pretty sure.

Could you live without a computer?
If I had to, I know I would.

Do you use ICQ, AOL Buddy list, etc.?
MSN - I've used it for years, though I now have all my highschool friends blocked.

If so, how many people are on your list(s)?
About thirty, I think. Most of them are blocked.

If you could live in any past time period, which would it be?
Edwardian, maybe. I quite like this one, though, if only because it has so much to offer. Maybe the sixties, fities.

Do you drink enough water?
Oh, no, I'm sure I don't.

Do you wear shoes in the house or take them off?
We take them off.

What is your favorite fruit?
I love green apples. Watermelon, rockmelon.

Do you eat wheat bread or white?
Soft white.

What is your favorite place to visit?
I'm not sure yet - cities. The ocean.

What is the last movie you saw?
Sweeny Todd, from last night.

Do you kiss on the first date?
No. :P

Are you photogenic?
My ego would have me say yes. With all the fussing I do, though, I'd have to say that naturally I am not.

Do you dream in color or black and white?
Colour.

Are you wearing nail polish?
Yes; sheer strawberry. It's very pretty.

Do you have any dimples?
Rowan says I do, sometimes. He has deeper, prettier ones though.

Do you remember being born?
Oh god no. I don't think I want to, either. :P

Why do you take surveys?
I like answering the questions; it's a good chance to sit down and really think about who I am, I guess.

Do you drink alcohol?
Hardly.

Did you like or do you like high school?
I did, actually. Even all the awful parts. I think it's an important part of life. It sets the standards.

What is the most beautiful language?
French. :)

When you are asleep, do you like being kissed awake?
It's a nice feeling, though I'm sure I'm not thinking of it in the same why you are. :)

Do you like sunrises or sunsets the most?
Oh, I love both. I see more sunsets, though.

Do you want to live to be 100?
Only if Rowan was celebrating it with me. But even then I'm not sure, it seems so sad to be that old, like an infant again, almost.

Do you think women should be expected to shave their body hair?
If they want to - I haven't ever really thought about it.

Do you like salty food or sugary food the most?
Oh, both.

Is a flat stomach important to you?
No, not at this moment.

Do you or have you played with a Ouija board?
Once, at a friend's thirteenth birthday party. She was pushing the glass, though.

Are you loyal?
I can be.

Are you tolerant of other people's beliefs?
Yes, at least I like to think so. I wouldn't want them to judge mine, so do unto others. :)

When you watch movies at home, do you like the lights on or off?
Either or. Mostly I watch movies with Rowan and Kyle, and they both like them off.

Do you believe in magic?
Yes. :) Oh, yes, definately.

Do you have nightmares frequently?
No, thankfully, though they still happen.

Do you like your nose?
When I'm not thinking about it.

Do you like abstract art?
No, not really. I like simple, pretty things.

Do you think you can draw well?
You are always learning, and improving. :)

Do you listen to music daily?
Yes. :) It's this house's beat.

Do you like to watch cartoons?
Yes. I love cartoons.

At what age did you find out that Santa Claus wasn't real?
I don't think we ever really believed in him, Rowan and I. That's sad. :(

How many pairs of shoes do you have in your closet?
Um, about five or six.

Do you like to wear the same shoes everyday or do you like a variety?
Same shoes, mostly. They're simple and verstile. :)

Do you write poetry?
Rarely. :P

Do you snore?
Rowan says I do. I'm not sure if he's lying or not, though.

Do you sleep more on your back, front, or sides?
Back. Sometimes I curl up into a pillow, or one of my bears, or Rowan, if we've fallen asleep after a movie marathon.

Would you rather have a poodle or a Rottweiler?
I'm not a dog person, really. :/

Do you lick stamps?
I haven't sent a letter in ages. :O

Do you use an electric can opener?
No. :O

Have you ridden in a hot air balloon?
No, never.

Which hurts the most, physical or emotional pain?
Emotional. It's awful.

Do you think balding men should shave their heads?
I think it's whatever they're comfortable with. :) I'm sure it gives them a little character.

Do you know anyone who is clinically depressed?
I used to. He's gone, now.

Do you prefer a piano or a violin?
Pianos are lovely.

Are you a sex addict?
Hah, I don't think so.

Do you know someone who has cancer?
I used to.

Do you hunt?
No. Rowan does, though.

Do you like fast food joints, or expensive restaurants?
Either. :) They're both fun with the right company.

Would you rather visit a zoo or an art museum?
Art museum. :)

Do you have a middle name?
Yes - May.

Are you basically a happy person?
I'm always told I am.

Are you tired?
No, not now.

Did you drink anything with caffeine in it today?
Not yet, but my Grandfather is brewing some coffee, I can smell it.

Have you ever met anyone off the internet?
No. :O

How many phones do you have in your house?
One main one and then everyones' moblie phones, I guess, so... six, I think.

How long is your hair?
Below my shoulder blades.

Do you get along with your parents?
I love my granddad. :) And since he and my grandmother were the only parents we knew, yes. :)

What color of eyes do you prefer?
Dark, dark brown. Eyes that can glitter.

Are you an active person?
No, not really. :/

What medications do you take?
Nothing. :O

What does your bedroom look like?
Soft, girlie - there's big fluffy pillows and ruffles and pink curtains. Books, stacks of books. Soft toys, everywhere. My teapots and teacups.

your friendly next-door spy.

Tue, 19 Aug 2008 14:31:24 GMT

Granddad and I have this terrible habit of gossiping on the neighbours across the road - they live on a decent bit of land, house plonked right in the middle and surrounded by gardens and trees maintained by the grandfather. He's an old man, fit like Granddad - I see him go for walks during the evening.

But anyway, the gossip: there's a middle aged woman that lives there, the old man's daughter. She goes to work in a carpool, and there is always this one man that parks his car in the front of their yard and stops and talks to her, takes her bins out, collects her mail for her. They seem like good friends, but Granddad and I and our dirty minds have decided that they're having an affair. The man's wife used to collect him and on the days that she was already there, outside the house waiting, he and our neighbour never talked, only briefly waved good bye and quickly parted directions. But now he has his own car, a monster 4xwheel drive thingy and they spend aaaages talking and laughing and Granddad and I smirk at each other while Rowan goes off about how we're a pair of noisey bastards.

Which we are, but it's funny. I thought it would be hilarious writing love letters to the both of them - I'd never do it, but it is a funny thought and it made Granddad laugh.

I'm not sure what to do at the moment - not having a job is crippling, but there is nothing in this town. The fast food chain that we do have won't take me; they hire highschool students, cheap labour. My mother's turned her shrewed eyes on me and is suggesting sending me to my aunt's further upstate so I can "start a career in the Hospitality industry". She doesn't believe I'll make it to Uni, doesn't really see the point in it. She believes that it's just an option I'm taking so the family will continue babying me. I haven't decided if she's being cruel or not; I know she wants to help me out of a really pathetic and unhealthy way to live, but I can't. I want University, and I want to stay with Granddad and Rowan and Kyle and Aunty Cate. I'm worried about Granddad - he's been saying lately that he's not well, and Rowan and I have no idea what to do. Aunty Cate has been snippy lately, they'll end up having a fight and not talking for another billion years. Apparently that happens every decade or so.

But if that does happen and she leaves (likes she's been eluding to doing) then when I leave for the city next year Granddad will be alone - Rowan's said that he's not letting me go on my own and while I love that I'll get to keep my brother for a bit longer, I'm just scared for Granddad. He talks about how when he dies we won't even know - he'll go "outback" and that'll be the end of it. Old man bullshit, but concerning none the less.

Rowan didn't go to work today - he hasn't been well, and we spent most of it curled up on his bed either sleeping (him), reading (me) or watching movies (us and Kyle).

I am... concerned, but it's not something that I expect anyone to have an answer for.

Blame Bill Gates

Tue, 29 Apr 2008 10:37:34 GMT

I went to the next town over today, with a furiously muttering Grandfather to pick up a copy of Grand Theft Auto 4 for Rowan and Kyle.

It's been hilarious, seeing those two nerd talk about this thing. I couldn't even join in if I wanted - the only thing I took away from the other game of this line that they have, was that I could fly around on a jet pack and shoot people from the sky. Anyways, my brother didn't trust the game store here in town so he somehow worked the persuasive magic that skipped me and conned Granddad into driving the half-hour to bigger shopping centre "down the road". Knowing what they wanted without having to give the sales clerk a piece of paper with it scribbled on, I went for the ride.

I got the game fairly easy - that should've been my first warning signal. Granddad dropped me off home and I tossed the game onto Rowan's bed and just milled about the house until Kyle came home from school at about 3:30. I wanted to see the game in action, and Rowan wasn't due home until a quarter to four, if not four itself, so I sat down on my darling brother's bed and watched our younger cousin slip the game into the 360.

That's when we found out the console is broken. I don't know exactly what it is, only that's something's snapped or missing (this after we'd just gotten it fixed too). It was so heartwretching to see Rowan's face when he came home - that is, until he started stomping around the house swearing, promising to buy a PS3, cursing Bill Gates and his offspring. Then it was just funny.

Ah, I shouldn't laugh. I've been playing around with a tryout version of Photoshop 6, and I know, just know, that when it runs out I will cry. Honest to the Lord, I will break down and sob my eyes out. Coming from someone who's been playing around with MSPaint, it's been amazing. I want it. I've made a hundred and one icons, just playing around with the default picture here on my LJ. I don't know what looks best-I want something simple, but then I discovered the magic of textures... @_@

I hate Bill Gates. Why couldn't we not have known about computers? Why?

Lingerie & Motocross Boots

Sun, 27 Apr 2008 11:45:33 GMT

The slip I bought; soft and silky and perfect for pampering.

My grandmother, my Nana, was a really old fashioned, gentle kind of lady. She's the one that signed me up for deportment classes through our school, taught me how to embroider, cross-stitch, quilt... She also gave me my love of art, perfume bottles, tea cups and wearing and slips under any skirt or dress that I wear.

I'd of like to known her, when she was younger. Our mother always complains that we got the Olds after they had mellowed out, that we wouldn't of liked them so much had we lived through them when they were young and meaner. Nana sounds like she was a spitfire. Supposedly, the first thing she ever told our Granddad was that he was a drunken idiot - this as she was trying to sneak into the pub run by her Uncle. I don't know how much of this is true or false, since Granddad does tend to embellish the things that he remembers, but it makes for nice family legend.

Rowan bullied me outside yesterday; he wanted to go get his boots, and ended up promising to throw his cash on me. I would've gone anyway, really, just for something to do. But that just sweetened the deal. XD

The boots were picked up first, from a shop out on Machinery Alley (as I call it). It's all industrial type goods; ride on mowers, trucks, bulldozers and the only gun store in town that looks closed every time I see it. The boots themselves are huge, black monsters with shinny silver clasp parts, really stark against the dark colour. They come up to a bit below his knees when he wears them and make a hideous clicking sound when he walks. He's been stomping around the house with them on, ever since he got them, making enough sound to scare small children into crying. He's blindingly happy with them though - he just needs a jacket and those pant things so he'll stop coming home with all the chunks missing out of him.

Anyways, after we drove out for his boots he gallantly offered to spend the day "shopping" with me in the limited selection of our town. It was actually really fun; he ended up sitting outside while I went into the only undergarment store in town, just looking for something pretty. The ladies that run this store are old, suspicious types. Every time I have gone in there they've eyed me of as if I'm going to tip over a display rack or stuff bras down the front of my shirt and scream, "HAHA stupid old bags! Teenagers rock!" then run off. If you're not over thirty then you can't possibly want something nice. You can't possibly have the money for it. I swear it, I truly do, but those biddies do not trust young people. So, I'm in there, browsing around when I see this really pretty black piece - probably a little extravagant for someone who's only night time visitor is a stuffed bunny rabbit, but perfect for those nights I feel plain and just want to indulge. Long story short, the lady behind the counter talked me away from it. It turns out that that piece, and others in it's line, are all designed for breastfeeding mothers in mind. Humiliating, especially when it felt as if she was telling me I couldn't have it because I wasn't over thirty and breastfeeding. I know there was a good reason for that, but I still. My ego's smarting and I have a grudge to keep.

I ended up buying some pretty, dainty pink underwear and that apricot slip. It's a full length one, perfect for my lighter dresses.

After that I met with Rowan outside and we moved over to the new shopping center where we ended up doing the bulk of the weekly shopping. It was so surreal, crazy. We work well as a team, even as I worried over the frozens and he kept bumping into people with the trolley. We came home after that, packed everything away and turned up Kyle's music insanely loud again. It turns out that Rowan's insidious plans ran even deeper than a morning shopping - he insisted on going out for dinner; not even a night drinking, but just getting out and having a meal. That was fun too, though I always always overdress. I had - still have - no idea what's gotten into him. I'd say it was guilt, perhaps. Things like that, like Saturday in general, always happen after we've been fighting or he's scared that I'm upset. Either way, it worked. I went out with him and his friend today and watched them rip around the paddock on their bikes. Heartstopping, as always, but it really does keep him happy. I just have to stop worrying so much.

Song for Catherine

Wed, 23 Apr 2008 18:01:14 GMT

I've found my song. The title even has my name.

It's a strange kind of feeling hearing a basic summery of yourself in someone else's work. Everything has already been done, but still... a lyric twin, so now I have two kinds.

I'm strangely down at the moment. All this emotion is unhealthy, I need to stop taking myself seriously but what can I say? I'm a serious person, I take nothing lightly, though I like to think I have a sense of humor. Actually, it's kind of been required living with the people I do. My Grandfather has no shred of moral decency and Kyle's a sixteen year old boy. Rowan's just Rowan. Nothing is safe. I'll admit this now: I have laughed at some of the most appalling things you'll ever hear. That little British girl, Madeline? Mmm. I won't say anymore.

Aunty Cate was telling Kyle and Rowan about how they need girlfriends. Kyle just rolled his eyes and Rowan brushed the entire thing off. He hasn't been going out as much as he used to; I think something happened or happening with Zach getting into a different crowd. It's so strange; they've been friends for years. Rowan doesn't seem to bothered by it, which makes it even more surreal. He's been outgrowing Zach for a while now. There's a new mate, someone from work. They get along like a house on fire, so I guess things balance out. My own friends and I are something different. It's Amy's birthday this Friday but I won't be able to make it. I'll have to make it up to her. She was the best out of my highschool friends, level-headed and fun. I'd like to have her in my life for as long as possible.

It's funny how no one tells me I need a boyfriend. Granddad refuses to acknowledge it, I think. Aunty Cate suggests the sons of friends sometimes but Granddad gives her a filthy look and then says how I don't need to think about that until after university. Ah, but I'm so overprotected.

I came across a interesting question on the forum I've been haunting. Since it's mainly mothers and their babies I tend to just read than reply. Sometimes I'll throw in my two-cents but the exchange rate rips me off and everyone talks around the silly nineteen-year-old. There was one topic that came up though that I couldn't resist... Alot of the women on this site have "Family Blogs" were they write about how they're precious babies threw up all over the carpet or fell over in kindy. I've gathered that it's for relatives that live far away; it's a pretty neat trick, actually. A clever use of something that I thought was only ever for angsty teenagers. But anyway, the point:

So this topic is asking if anyone keeps a blog and doesn't tell their DH about it (Dear Husband? I don't know the terms, but they're talking about their spouse when DH is said). Nearly everyone said that they either keep a family blog, or have one but tell their menfolk. One lady came on and said how keeping a secret journal was hurtful; she cited some example in the form of her friends and said how she didn't understand why people would spill all their secrets out to the world and not just keep it in a locked diary. I couldn't resist, I had to step in.

I ended up saying that for me, at any rate, it was the POV of others. Of being able to let out to a stranger. I don't have a husband but I do know, sort of, the "Other Half" argument in Rowan. I've written alot of things, on here and other places, that I'd never say to him. The lady just thanked me politely but then said it wasn't the same. Maybe it isn't, but it feels the same. I don't bitch about how he snores or doesn't mow the lawn; it goes a lot deeper than that but I didn't bother to say anything. Maybe I'll learn?

.

Tue, 22 Apr 2008 14:06:58 GMT

Inspired by my brother I feel like splurging - like going out and wasting an unholy amount on something that I'll ever never have occasion to wear, or that I could've done just as well with in buying a cheaper version. Maybe going to the hairdressers, or something. Just anything to burn money on... if I had it.

I'm a disappointment to myself and my family. Two years out of highschool, no job, no further education, just a doting family that I shouldn't be so dependent on and hairdressing course that I never completed. It's ugly and non-romantic, everything that I hate. It's made me realize things about myself that I don't like admitting let alone thinking about. I could go on&on&on with a list a LJ page long, but I won't because what would be the point? It'd only serve to make me feel bad when I see it; my greatest fault, I think. I'll happily wallow away in misery yet I'm too lazy to do anything about it.

Rowan suggested that I do as my art teacher tried to bully me to do and send away my scribbles to little publishers, just to do something. All false modesty aside, I don't feel ready for that. I like drawing, I love it in fact. I love art. My wardrobe is a cave of canvas paintings that I've done, some not even finished. I swear, there is not a piece of paper in this house that is safe from me. I'll scribble on the envelope of the telephone bill as I'm waiting for lunch; write notes to myself on the kitchen whiteboard, words or little phrases that can make my mundane day seem worth writing about later on. Sketch a brief, messy idea of a layout I'd like to do in my cashier. Everything I see or feel, everything that anyone around me could possibly do... it's all fair game. It'll be written about, drawn, anything that let's me articulate my life. I love art, both pictures and words and if I did become an illustrator or a writer I would die with happiness, even before I actually get the job done. But I don't see how me&my scribbles are fit for the rest of world just yet. I'd like to get a better grasp on the human anatomy, to draw animals. I'd like to learn how to not be so controlling and I'd love to learn how to maximize my use of colour.

I wonder if it's just another form of procrastination by saying that I want to wait until I've bettered myself? I would though. I'd like to learn self-portrait. I can never draw myself. The girls that end up on paper are either idealized to something beyond me or unrecognizable. Maybe that's selfish, but I've always been able to see other people in my drawings, and I'd like the same for me.

If I could waste the money, right now, I would go to the tiny art boutique in town and buy a crazily expensive set of paints. Or pastels. Or watercolour pencils. Pretty brushes, something to replace the old, cheap things I've been using ever since Amy and I used to steal art supplies from the school storeroom. Or maybe I'd buy myself Photoshop - I'm learning to love beautiful graphics and I'd love to have a go at it.

OoOOoOoOOooooh... I wish I could stop breathing, sometimes. It just seems like I'm so full of conflicting thoughts that they all pull my emotions different ways, and I'm left not knowing how to feel.

I wish I had words.

Mon, 21 Apr 2008 14:14:20 GMT

If I could draw what I'm feeling, it'd be a tiny speck of white on a stormy grey canvas. Or a big, snowy white bed. I'm so tired I'm surprised that I'm actually still awake, though by now it's an old habit, staying up the night. It's become a new routine where I'll just be sinking into my pillows as the house comes alive with the sounds of Granddad and Rowan getting up for work, making breakfast, turning on the radio to that big mouthed wanker on the local station.

Today I kept myself awake for breakfast, something that happens every now and again, with no set pattern to it. I was the only one though, apart from Granddad. It was too early for Kyle to be up for school, and Rowan had come down with some crazy midnight flu and shuffled out of his room just long enough to call his boss before going straight back to bed. Aunty Cate was out like a light, like she normally is, so that just left me and the old man. He's a funny old thing, my Grandfather. Ever since Nanna died he's had this huge blackhole of a weakness for cancer and leukemia charities, and will happily dole out any spare change he has for car raffle tickets, or submit a thirty dollar order for a two-pack of pens that die within the week. He says that's just what we do; we've been through it, people helped and now so should we. It's apart of that rare side of Granddad, the one that he hardly ever shows, the one that I'm not sure I want to know too much about, really. I think I stumbled across a piece of it when I was vacuuming the house a while ago - I found a poem written in his hand. At least, I think it was a poem. I didn't look at it long after I realized it wasn't a to-do list. I know I'd never want the family to read my journals, my writing, so I just put it back and didn't say anything about it, even to Rowan.

It's so weird to think that there might actually be more to his Miserable Old Bastard front. Weird because I know that there's more to me than what I show them, weird because it never occurred to me that it might be the same for them. Like with Rowan, too. I honestly had no idea he was feeling that way until he told me, casually, just before he bought the bike. He's always been the charmed one out of us; calm, happy-go-lucky and then occasionally completely and utterly furious, terrifying. I didn't realize there could be anything else and that makes me feel bad, like I'm failing at understanding. Too caught up in myself and my homemade misery to realize that others could have their own.

He seemed better today though, like he'd completely dropped everything. He insisted on dragging me outside to the backyard where he demonstrated to our unimpressed neighbours how loud his bike could really be. I'm sure that had he been not so fluey, he would've gone straight to Zach's. Boys and their toys, right? I still worry, but then I worry more over worrying too much so I try to stop.

Today was completely quiet, even with Rowan's fasincation with the noise of his thing's motor. Mainly we just sat around in his room, watching funny little cartoons, just hanging out. The type of day with no expectations that turns out pretty well.

I need to sleep. ;_;

No idea. Really.

Sun, 20 Apr 2008 13:56:19 GMT

I can't even say how I'm feeling any more. Weird, or maybe like I've broken the translate button in my head. Rowan spent the day out with his friend on that bike - he came in while I was sleeping and asked if I wanted to go and I think I said no, I must have, because when I woke up he'd been gone for an hour or so. There's a feeling I can't shake: something that's screaming the world is ending, but I've never been precognitive, god no, so maybe I'm just being a worry wart?

I think Rowan's fallen in love with his bike-thing. It was all he could talk about, how he ripped around the field and god knows what. He's trying to bully me into going with him tomorrow, after he's finished work but I don't want to. I don't even want to watch. Odd, isn't it? He's been so tired lately, so unhappy. This is making him happy, cheering him up. I want that for him, I do. I just worry. Worryworryworry. I wonder if they'll ever be a time when we finally grow apart, and I wonder if this bike is the start of it? I'm in such a mood about twins, just reading about them, wanting to find something that could explain what I'm feeling, put it into words for me, reassure me that I'm not a freak of nature.

I joined a forum a little while ago, but I think to really fit in you have to be a parent. They all talk about what's the best kind of waterslide to invest in, which stroller has longer lasting power, blahblahblah. There was one topic where the lady was asking what b/g twins are like in their teens, if they get along. It hadn't been updated for ages, and I dearly wanted to post and just talktalktalk about Rowan and I, but how selfish is that? That's why I have this journal, other journals, paper ones. Besides, it's such a generalized question... it depends so much on who they are as people. I wonder if I'd be so close with my brother if I'd gotten some of our mother's backbone, or even just the nerve that the family in general carries.

What would it be like if I'd just been born one, just me? That's such a weird, ugly thought. I can't even imagine it, so maybe I'm never 'supposed to.

The Return of the Dirtbikes

Sat, 19 Apr 2008 14:40:28 GMT

Rowan came home with a dirtbike on the back of his friend's trailer. I was floored; I couldn't believe that after flipping Zach's he'd actually still want one but he did, and now he's blown a good 650 on this mini-bike thing that can't even be registered.

It doesn't matter that it can't go out on a road - he didn't flip on the road, he flipped in Zach's paddock. Granddad keeps going on about hoping Rowan has another fall to serve him a lesson, while Aunty Cate has forbidden Kyle from even breathing near it. Mainly, I'm just horrified. Rowan's been banned from taking me out on the damn thing but earlier tonight he was telling me to go out with him and his workmate tomorrow and he'll take me for a ride. Like I would. Like I'd want to watch him.

The idiot just doesn't get it, does he? I feel sick, like throwing up but I won't say anything agains the damn thing - it's making him happy, and I think he's been questioning life a bit lately, and I want him to be happy but goddamnit.

Okay, so it's barely even a bicycle with a motor - but he keeps going on about how fast it can go, what it can do and I just hate it, I hate it so much. I hope he won't be an idiot, but who knows? His friends are clever like that, the type to egg each other on... god, I hate this.

In other news, I've cleaned up my profile a bit, and my friends list. It's nothing personal - I'm just so damn distracted, annoyed. I really really hope he isn't stupid.

Homeward bound.

Fri, 18 Apr 2008 16:37:29 GMT

Life has been pretty quiet; I've failed miserably at promising to make this journal My Life's Work, but one moment I'm caught up in my art journalling, and another I'm daydreaming away in little odds and ends of stories.

It's been so oddly comfortable, here, staying in the one spot and then in other ways it's been horrible. All Rowan and I ever seem to do anymore is scream scream scream at each other. We've never fought like this before, though it's my fault. There's so many things that I just want to come out and say but I don't, because what would be the point? They'd do nothing but hurt in the end. We're better, though, for now.

My days consist of nothing but sleeping sleeping sleeping. All my anecdotes come from my brother, or Kyle, or Granddad. I think I may need my own life fairly soon, but then again I do ever want to leave here. I am a wuss.

Zach has been weird around me since Rowan's accident. I know that Rowan would rather die than have me date one of his friends, though I don't think I could see Zach like that. Highschool wasn't that long ago, and I known him long enough to know that we'd never work. It'd be a change though, and the evil side of me is wondering whether or not I should take it.

I am sleepy. I shouldn't update when I'm so dangerously low.

Oh, lost little girl.

Wed, 13 Feb 2008 15:15:09 GMT

So, after all that excitement about getting into University, I decided to defer for a another year.

I just felt so trapped, so many people were expecting different things from me and I had no idea how to pull myself together and deal with it. I'm weak I guess. But hopefully that's something I can work on this year. Actually, I have no idea what I'm doing-no job, no direction. Deferring probably wasn't a clever idea, not for me but... I don't know if I would've been able to handle it just yet.

I need to get my thoughts in check.

Fuck it.

Thu, 17 Jan 2008 23:06:17 GMT

Wrote awesome entry about night out then it got ate.

Too tired.

Will come back later and then proceed to gossip and bitch.

Welcome in the New Year with a range of mistakes and learnings.

Wed, 16 Jan 2008 12:22:26 GMT

I can't even begin to pick what to write about.

The internet died just before NYE, and I've only just been able to log on. It's been driving me crazy, having to rely on the slow and clumsy method of my handwriting to write everything down, but I suppose if anything, I got to kick-start my vow of recording each and every day, no matter how boring.

First news: I was accepted into university! I'm so happy. I got my letter on Monday and everyone was at work, or out, so I had to wait until the afternoon to tell the family. It was one of those great times that just happen. Everyone was so proud, Rowan and Granddad the most. Rowan drove back into town to get cupcakes and little candles while Granddad made all my favourite dishes and even flan, which is his way of saying, "congratulations!". It felt like my birthday, my own birthday. After having worried about not making it I can say that I'm completely floored. Especially with all the fussing and the "I'm so proud of you!" that everyone did. I think that I'm the first to do higher education since this family is all about getting out there and working hard, either on farms or with metal or just trying out different jobs and other avenues for life experince. I'm somewhat of a black sheep; I've only ever felt comfortable with books, and now, after a year of feeling like I was rotting away, I've got them!

I thought that perhaps I'd have to worry about finding somewhere to stay and that since I was too late with the campus housing, yet Rowan kept good on his word: he's saved up and has even been offered a job by a sister company. I can't believe it, it's like packing a walking, talking and loud security blanket. I wonder how it'll go, just the two of us without our Granddad to baby us? I feel guilty leaving him behind - he's been sadder since Grandma died, but I suppose Aunty Cate will keep him from trouble. Mostly I'm just exicted about my life taking off.

I met up with two of my closest friends today, Amy and Sarra; it was so nice to have girl chatter. I can't wait for tomorrow night; they want to go out. The only thing that dampened it was Sarra - I never knew it, but apparently she's had a long standing crush on Rowan. Fair enough I suppose, but the way she kept bullying me to ask him to come out with us, all the questions about him overriding the conversation I was trying to have with Amy... I hope she's not using me just to get to my brother. It's happened before, and I hate it because I begin to wonder where (and if) I'll ever fit in.

Bah... the fact that uni starts next month is all I can really think about. I'm so excited... and scared. But mostly excited. XD

And it all spills out...

Sat, 10 Nov 2007 11:48:46 GMT

I don't know what's compelled me to start sharing my thoughts with what could turn out to be the entire world, but I guess I find safety in talking to strangers.

No one I know will find this, I know that like I know my own name.

Perhaps I shouldn't even be writing the things I want to here, but... I have to. I hate keeping my feelings bottled up inside like some moody CD store asshole.

My name is Catherine May. And I'm very confused.

Supposing that this was a story, a completely fictional lie then I guess I would begin by telling you about myself.

I'm 19 years old. I was born on Halloween. I have a twin brother who I love like the world's ending. We live in a small country town, surrounded by people who have known us most of our lives. I hate this town, but I love it too.

I don't have a boyfriend. I can't, really. It'd be lying to myself. Not because I'm gay, no. But because of someone else. Someone who I might as well not exist to.

My brother, Rowan, is my complete opposite. He's loud and obxious and rude and very popular with his friends. Our house is always full of the noisy bastards, coming over and demanding Rowan's attention. I don't know if they can tell I don't like them much, but I know that the feeling's mutual. Rowan's best friend thinks I'm clingy. Yeah, well at least I'm not a drugged up whore like the skanks he dates (Rowan's Bestie, not my Rowan).

Rowan has a girlfriend, an old classmate. I don't really know her well despite her relationship with my brother, but she's... okay. It might just be my self-esteem talking but I can't say it feels like she appriciates my being alive.

I love the colour pink, and sunsets. I'd love to learn how to use photoshop and create beautiful pictures like on deviantart but my computer would explode if I tried to install something like that. That and I don't have the money for it.

I'm searching for something I don't believe truly exists...

-CM