UGH!!!! Don’t even try to console the inconsolable…

Ugh. Don’t you hate it when you have those days that are all planned out, all “have the potential to be fun” days, and they turn out utterly crap? Well! I have had a few of those lately. Especially today. I’m bloody tired. Probably got 7 hours sleep, but still, am bloody tired and on the verge of falling into a sleep-deprived coma.And when I get tired, I get angry. And I slur my speech. I get a shorter-than-usual temper (God forbid), and I act like a fucking loony, causing people to stare and back away slowly. Serious. It’s like that tiger at the zoo which no zookeeper likes to feed because they end up in hospital. Horrible.  

But! This time tomorrow yours truly will be 15 years old. J Very good. And exciting. And on Tuesday Pete and I go away, and then, the Monday after the Monday after that (do you follow?) I am shubbin out! J Hahahaha… Living with my Nanna- Oh God. At the very least, she’ll find it necessary to be completely intrusive and embarrassing like my dear old Mummy. Yes, yes she will. “Worst case scenario?” I hear you asking? She’ll cage me up like a panda and never let me out of the house (also a likely possibility, knowing my
Nan.).  

Well, that was a VERY pessimistic sorta post… And it could be the last for a long while, at least until I get settled in with
Nan and convince her to let me on the internet… 

So fare well, good fellows- Happychick shall return ASAPP… (The extra “P”? As Soon As Physically Possible- I’m starting a trend. J )

You have got to be kidding me

To be quite honest, I’ve never really been pressured into anything- not over the past few years, at least. I’ve never really felt helpless. Never felt rushed into making a decision. Today I felt that. In the worst way. And it wasn’t as though I could just ignore, and not go along. It wasn’t as though I had a choice. It’s one thing to feel pressured by your peers. By your friends. By your boyfriend, or by your teachers. It’s quite another to feel forced by your own mother.

 

This morning my Mum dropped (pardon the uber-lame cliché), a “bomb-shell”. She and my Step Dad had “discussed” (aka decided) the possibility of me going home. Going to live with
Nan. Going back to my old school, in an effort to pick up my grades.

 

At first, I was terrified. And when my mates found out, I felt like the most awful person in the world. My mates were in tears, and it was my fault. And Pete? God, the poor guy. He’s trying so hard not to… It breaks my heart to see him trying to be the man.

 

When I first moved here, the locals said “It’ll grow on you”… And it did. I can look around now at things I’d seen every day for ten months, and I’m missing them already- the air is so fresh here- fresher than you’ll get anywhere else in the world. And sure, the town sucks majorly, but the people are the bomb. And I’ve made so many lifelong friends- how can I just be expected to pack up and leave?

 

To make matters worse… So, so much worse… I’m going back to a school where hating me is a sport in itself. My mates here find it hard to believe- but people can change- and I have, so, so much. But the people back home don’t know that. To them, I’m still the nasty, manipulative, bitchy girl I used to be. And I’m terrified. I’m so scared that I’ll have to go through that pain and hurt again- I don’t think the new me will be able to handle it.

 

It’s such short notice- less than 3 weeks away. 3 weeks! I’ve never felt like I was in too deep before- Happychick could once handle everything. But these people- these kids, they are the devils’ outcasts… And going back into their hell scares me to death.

The Happychick laugh.

When I laugh, I do this kind of backward snort thing- I try to stop myself laughing, and the air just kinda rushes out my nose alarmingly. It’s loud, and unnatural, and even a bit painful at times. And, if I’m really lucky, I’ll have a bit of a blocked nose and kinda snot all over those in the vicinity. One of these laughs happened to me today (minus the snot- that’s just soo gross…)

 

We were all sitting around at lunch, talking about the randomest of things (oh, if only I had a Dictaphone all those times the convo’s have drifted into “What do your parents wear to bed?” or “Isn’t it weird how Peter laughs and his eyes don’t move?” Seriously, they don’t. Anyway…) Back to topic. The talk switched to “Rachel’s pregnant”, which, in itself, is not only unlikely, impossible, and a really stupid thing to say, it was funny, coz she kinda poked her tummy out as Cate was petting it like a dog. So I said, “What are you going to call it?” And Pete, ah Pete- so funny yet unimaginably embarrassing at times, says “Jamunji, if it’s a boy, and… if it’s a girl- Jamunj-eye!”

 

Now, it’s actually not funny in the slightest now that I re-read it, but then, at the time- I guess you had to be there. And then came the laugh. It was so freaking loud- holy crap, I sounded like a chainsaw. Everybody looked at me (one of those movie moments when the guy says- “when are you expecting?” and the fat chick’s like- “I’m not”) and pissed themselves laughing.

I was freaking weeping. Shit, it was just damn funny. Then everyone teased me about the laugh, and amazingly, though I’m fucked if I know why, I was able to laugh at myself too. J And there you have it. The chainsaw laugh.

LAYERS OF HAPPYCHICK… Be alarmed

LAYER ONE: ON THE OUTSIDE

Name: Ashleigh
Current Location: HOME!!! In my dining room on the Computer!!!
Eye Color: Hazel… But they are random and change colour much too often…
Hair Color: Natural? Mouse Brown. Currently?
Burgundy brown.
Righty or Lefty: RIGHTY!!! WE LIVE LONGER BWAHAHA
Zodiac Sign: Libra

LAYER TWO: ON THE INSIDE

Your heritage: Spanish and English…
Your fears: Injustice/being judged/ Marilyn Manson
Your weakness: Faries. Doing what is right, as opposed to what is easy.
Your perfect pizza: Mmmm… Chocolate and thick crust and pineapple and.. basically hawiaan with chocolate. J
Your goal: To see the New Year on every continent.

LAYER THREE: YESTERDAY, TODAY, TOMORROW:

Your thoughts first waking up: “Why is it so damn hot in here?!?”
Your best physical feature: My eyes, my smile, my hands…
Your bedtime: Haha 8.30pm- I have a sleeping disorder…
Your most missed memory: Those times when playing games meant chasey, and a hug could fix anything.
LAYER FOUR: YOUR PICK:

Pepsi or Coke: COKE!!!! Yay! Caffiene!!!!
McDonald’s or Burger King: MACCAS!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Burger Who?)
Single or group dates: I have no idea, and hence, no preference.
Adidas or Nike: Nike, if I had to choose. Or Roxy/Converse/Etnies…
Lipton Tea or Nestea: Lipton… I live off tea.
Chocolate or vanilla: Vanilla- I’m white, dude!! (bahaha)
Cappuccino or coffee: Probably Coffee, even though it stains your teeth…
LAYER FIVE: DO YOU?

Smoke: No! I’m such an angel nowadays…
Take a shower: Every Single night unless I’m at a mates and feeling like a scrub.
Have a crush: Yeah… Who doesn’t? I even have a “thing” !!! Bahaha
Think you’ve been in love: Yes. J And it’s the best feeling in the world. <3
Want to get married: When I’m much, much older and can no longer pick up guys because my walking stick puts them off.
Believe in yourself: Always. If you don’t believe you can do it, who else will??
Think you’re a health freak: *Snort. I’m not even going to go into how ludicrous that is.

LAYER SIX: IN THE PAST MONTH:

Drank alcohol: NOPE. I don’t drink. (Crazy Parents)
Gone to the mall: Yes, what else is there to do in this town?
Been on stage: Oh man, if only…
Eaten Sushi: UGH!!! I would rather eat off my own arm.
Been dumped: No.
Gone skating: Bahaha!!! Me? Skate? Go shoot yourself.
Dyed your hair: No, but that is the plan in the near future.

LAYER SEVEN: HAVE YOU EVER:

Played a stripping game: No, how desperate do you have to get to beat someone at cards to see them naked?!?!
Gotten beaten up: Nah, Make love not war.
Changed who you were to fit in: It’s so sad that I have to say yes here… And I’d do it all again- it’s how I found myself.

LAYER EIGHT: GETTING OLD:

Age your hoping to be married: Woah1 Dejavu! J Haha. When I’m OOOOLLLLLDDDDD…

LAYER NINE: IN A GIRL/GUY:

Best eye color: green. Yes, definitely green.
Best hair color: It doesn’t really matter, who looks at that anyway??

Short or long hair: pretty much longish. Short hair is all “army-ish”. Run away.

LAYER TEN: WHAT WERE YOU DOING:

1 MINUTE AGO: Filling out this lame questionarre and chatting to Rach about how shit it is that we have to work.
1 HOUR AGO:  Eating Chicken Treat!!! (Bahaha Fat girl…)
1 DAY AGO: Watching “How I met your mother”. Not Moby!! J Bahahaha
1 YEAR AGO: Living in my old house on my old street in my old town which I loved to pieces… Good times.

LAYER 11: FINISH THE SENTENCE:

I FEEL: Tired/ Itchy/ Kinda Hyper… heehee
I DONT LIKE: Not being in control.
I AVOID: Ants.
I MISS: My besties!! (Andy and Anushka I love you two!!)
I NEED: CHOCOLATE, sleep, new clothes.

Life is a grand thing when you are 15 years old. :)

This time next month I will not only be 15 years, 6 days old, but I will be in

Coral
Bay with the only boy I have ever loved. I guess the whole “Losing of the Virginity” may well happen then…

I’m excited, I guess. But not as much as I thought I would be. I’m more nervous. Afraid, even- to an extent. I mean sure, he’s the only boy I’ve ever felt so comfortable around… but I still have inhibitions and the thought of being naked in front of him frightens me.

And after what’s happened lately? Ugh.

And there it is- the real reason I am writing this post.

A good mate of mine- a really good mate, is being used. In the worst way possible. And everyone knows it. He screws her, then runs around telling anyone in the vicinity how fat she is, how ugly she is, how tight she was, how wet she was… It was awful.

I wouldn’t even be so worried if it hadn’t somehow become MY fault that everyone knew. And it wouldn’t be so damn aggravating if she could see past his stupid, lame little façade and if she realised that, as the only other person to be in the room, and hence, know, HE would, quite obviously, I thought, be the one who ran his mouth!!

Ugh. Mum says not to get involved. “She’ll open her legs to whomever she likes”. But it’s so frustrating to see this sort of injustice and not be able to say anything. If I told her “It was perfect, sweet, kindhearted Jake, who “loves you” who told everyone how he “pooped your cherry””, she would not only go off tap, it would get around that Pete had told me, and hence, Pete would be in the shit with Jake, and I would be in the shit with Kk… and it would all just turn to crap.

So I am alarmed. Alarmed, pissed off, helpless, and acting just like a teenage girl… Ah, I hate the fact that, even though I despise the whole “teenage” label, I act like one just the freaking same. Ah, my… Life is grand.

R.I.P… See ya Steve

Yesterday a man named Steve Irwin died yesterday. I’m going to assume you’ll all know who he is (I hear he is/was big in
America)… But just in case.

The man was a father, a husband, and a crocodile hunter. He dealt with the most dangerous of creatures, and he treated them with such respect…

He was a true Aussie- he was part of us all. And he died doing what he loved- stung in the chest by a stingray.

As expected, the media went nuts. Bloody hell, it was crazy, and will be for the next few days. I guess it hasn’t really struck me yet. He wasn’t just an icon. He didn’t just sell us to tourists. He made us laugh. And he taught us things. He was a helluva Dad, a caring husband, the type of guy who everyone simply loves. God Bless.

Maturity my freaking ass

I hate how friends grow up. I hate how they get interested in boys. I hate how they become so careless with what they put into their bodies. I hate how, often, they are in such a damn rush to lose their virginities, and even worse, how they judge you for the choices you make. It makes me sad when someone you thought you knew so damn well turns out to be a total jerk/slut/manipulative, lying whore. And when you look back on those times you had when you were innocent, carefree and naïve, it seems like such a waste. I spent so much of my childhood wanting to grow up. But now I just wanna be that little girl again, holding her Mummy’s hand, going rollerblading at the park… I don’t want all the responsibilities I have now.

I just wish there was a time machine. I wish that I could go back, and enjoy every single moment of being that vulnerable little girl. I miss that. Maturity sucks.