The Gift Of Giving

In all my eighteen years of life, not forgetting to include the valuable lessons learnt over birthday and christmas periods (which for me goes hand in hand and side by side), I have discovered, or rather proven, that gift giving is well and truly an art.

What remains unfalsified, however, is whether the planes of present picking are are even playing fields, or the often considered universal notion that some of us either have it, or we are hopelessly and shamelessly disabled when it comes to offerings of merriment and affection.

It seems the latter is more true.

Sad but true. For both the giver and receiver of these forlorn attempts at personal and decisive symbols of your love/relationship/friendship/superiority in selflessness.

Obviously the poor soul stuck with a bad present giver for parents/boyfriend/girlfriend/sibling/biffl/kris kringle will suffer immeasurable amounts during festive occasions, invariably dreading the exchange with the ominous knowledge of what horror is to come, masked under the guise of a happy-go-lucky object - suggested by the optimistic and non-confrontational wrapping paper. Moreover, these people are unduly familiar with the mock-grateful "ahhh, oh a ____________. I loooove it?...You shouldn't have. Really." that they are obliged to offer in response to the (accidental) product of the cruel and random disease exerted over some individuals.

For a first hand account of such a diagnosis, let us refer to exhibit A.

An acquaintance cum friend cum acquaintance (again) who each year would try and ignore the burden of their inability to give gifts, despite numerous pleas and attempts from friends to dissuade them from following their distorted idea of a good present and instead amend the situation by just giving money for god sake. Some real gems include bed sheets, clothing taken from a storage box in their home and cheap, skanky jewellery.

I regret to inform you this individual is still suffering from this condition and has not yet been rehabilitated.

Another example of a less harrowing strain of this condition are those individuals who simply cannot fathom the concept, let alone perform the act of surprise gift giving. Exhibit B.

The, "I mean well but who gives a shit about the gift giving process?" friend who thinks that handing over a wad of cash and standing by while you try stuff on is sufficient as a heartfelt present. This 'flight' state of conscious where one chooses to omit the, seemingly, demeaning task of risking a failed evaluation of the relationship shared between themselves and the gift receiver indicates a strong sense of pride and reputation too valuable to be jeopardised at the risk of giving a crappy gift. My knowledge of such people reveals that this condition is nurture rather than nature related, and is instilled from childhood by the parents/relatives of the individual.

Not only is this upheld by those subjects suffering from a gift giving handicap, but those who embrace celebrations requiring gift exchanges wholeheartedly. Exhibit C.

The defender and gate keeper of surprise presents, who wakes up at the crack of dawn on christmas even though they are 17. Who stores gift ideas throughout the year and prides themselves on executing a successful and fulfilling present. They know the incomparable value of receiving lots of wrapped up packages with your name on it.

One such individual I know who possesses such qualities appears to have had this instinct cultivated from an early age and ingrained in their moral upbringing, taught to carry on the tradition that has been respected in the family for generations.

If you, or some one you know appears to suffer from any of these symptoms during the lead up to christmas in the gift buying period;

A sense of inconsolable trepidation.

Anxiety, shortness of breath, dizziness, lightheadedness.

The urge to consume copious amounts of alcohol.

Hallucination.

Extreme irritability and/or mood swings.

Depression.

Confusion.

An inability to concentrate.

Phobia of ribbons, sparkles, collages of bright colours, christmas decorations or colour combinations involving red, white and green.

Consult your nearest adult, confidant or christmas gift guide catalogue.

Try to remember, you are not alone, and help is available.

and so this is christmas...

Just realised that I cannot tolerate people who can't take no for an answer and overly curious people.

It's never really bothered me that much before but recently, if i'm around these incessantly questioning people I feel as if I could turn into the freaking hulk and rip off my shirt in a fit of rage. Thats a bit weird considering I am usually described as a timid/patient/non-confrontational personality.

But, maybe it's just this quaint time of year. Like, you can be forgiven by strangers and distant family members for acting like a total anti-social and agro bitch because 'tis the season' and you were christmas shopping. And whoever you tell gives you a knowing look and an ahhhhh because they can relate. Totally relate.

I guess I didn't really acknowledge the hidden yet sinister pressure that christmas impinges on otherwise temperate people who are able to adhere to the expectations of social propriety. Though, I must confess I too have cracked in an attempt to be a prime performer in Kris Kringle's present contest. To be specific, having a heated argument with my sister in the middle of targets cosmetic department. Shamelessly. Even to the point of brining up deep seeded wounds that have nothing to do with shopping, presents or my grandparents love or dislike of soap.

If I wasn't me, i'd be like wtf is going on, calm yourselves you psychos. Even my sister, who is usually an avid and dare I say, enthusiastic shopper turns into this unbearable walking tantrum. She becomes physically ill and suffers from headaches and dizzy spells. What is that all about? The come down from christmas cheer and joy?

Arm yourselves, shoppers. And take comfort in the fact that nobody is above it. I don't even think Jesus could play the holier than thou card on this one.

I am totally and utterly over high school after our very tearful and prolonged break up. Signified by the dispatch of high schools final hold over us. ENTER SCORES.

No connections, ties or strings attached. Some might suggest that we who have graduated are akin to ex-prisoners finally liberated from their cells, able to roam the streets without schedule or constant and demeaning surveillance and dictation.

But nah, I loved you high school and you know it. I'll always carry a torch for you.

So currently, the very kosher and trendy thing to do is to say that your final VCE (high school) result is "just a number" and "can't dictate the rest of your life". And well yes, it is only a number I suppose, but (to be very politically incorrect) I love my number and I would be happy for it to [partially] dictate the rest of my life. It would be a sweet life where good prevails over bad and hard work is rewarded with apt glory and veneration from others.

Okay so maybe thats selfish for me to 'impose' an omnipotence to the individual rankings delegated to us by the ever mysterious VCAA, but to be fair, everybody knows that your enter kind of defines you, indefinitely.

On the same token and to be very, very frank, this same day of elation for me turned out to be really shit for heaps of peeps. For a very clear example of double standards, (but maybe we can let this one slide of compassionate terms) can we say that if your not happy, your number can be the moment of epiphany and sublime realisation that we all long for, which motivates change in your life, and then you become the loveable underdog that prevails?

And someone makes a movie about it eventually.

Well, according to VCAA, the number I have been given and the superiority that comes with it, yeah we can.

And to sustain those who are in the mind space that your number is a reflection of our intellect, my moments of enlightenment had no-thang to do with study, or academic ability. I now know that it is a bad idea to wear a sundress and sandals while go-karting, even if you think your boyfriend will think you look super cute in it, because you will end up flashing the staff and wearing some random persons skating shoes with hairnets as socks. Especially sexy coupled with the pathetic and helpless "damsel in distress" persona you achieve by constantly spinning out and getting stuck.

I mean, I would totally look less ditzy in jeans and sneakers. Lets not deny it.

I was at this beautiful house yesterday. Like it was so good it could probably be used for a location for a film. And it was even covered in fairy lights. Ahhhh it was the stuff of dreams and I was in it for a little while. In my own dream.

Yeah but something that wasn't fantastic was that I realised girls with boyfriends should just not go out. Like, there is really no point unless your going to a hens night, and even then, you just need to be the sober organiser of it and not actually participate because you are untouchable. Seriously. Consider yourself a burden.

Or you could try not telling anyone and refraining from doing anything and just working your "playing hard to get card" but it is never long before the cat comes out of the bag. Like in the nice house. I had previously learn't my lesson that if you would like to be spoken to don't mention ya bf, so I was keeping it on the DL only in hope of not being ostracised from this gathering, annnd then some good mate decided to do a favour for his mate by 'subtly' letting him know he was wasting his time. I always, always gave boys the benefit of the doubt and thought, perhaps naively that they were not only ever after one thing. But it turns out they are! Forever and ever.

But then again, if you do have a boyfriend it means there will always be someone who will talk to you when all the single boys get sober and loose their courage. So thats one up on them. Hi Five!

my grown up christmas list

Santa baby, since I have been such a good girl, can I, pretty please, for christmas have...

Everyone in my family and in my heart to get everything on their lists and be happy and healthy and loved.

(Okay, enough selflessness because underneath the joyful facade of christmas cheer and wrapping paper you know there is only self gratification and consumerism at its besssst. That being said that is a serious wish and the most important, hence why it is at the beginning of the post. Like, I bet you forgot what the point of the holiday was, besides receiving, I mean giving gifts.

But seriously give as you would expect to receive, doing nice things for other people, materially, is actually fulfilling. And creates this wonderful sense of obligation.)

To be as glamours as my sister with her eyelash extensions, but without them.

This ring,

To live in a great big house.

Sportsgirl suede wedges.

My drivers licence.

RMIT.

A day job.

Alexander McQueen clutch,

The stamina and inspiration to buy sick presents for everyone!

These babies,

Refill of Clinique step 3, miracle moisturiser,

A proper summer, not torrential rain.

This sicccck ipod dock,

For us to have a beautiful christmas tree in our house.

And thats it for now.

merry christmas!

guess who's back?

Heya Playa,

I have returned from the vast and forgiving week that was schoolies, fantasies fulfilled, somewhat tanned however at the same time depressed because I don't think I will ever experience the same intense partying that it provided. Actually I'm devastated. But whatevs, time heals all wounds. ( Look at me, being accepting and reasonable now that I am a woman of eighteen.)

Okay so you wouldn't think that schoolies of all places would be the environment where true love blossoms, but alas, as am I, you are wrong.

I know. Random right.

So anyway it seems the atmosphere of fleeting pleasures and desires, amplified by the happiness and relief of finishing school and copious amounts of alcohol (naturally) was the prime condition to find a suitable suitor. Not for me but for my ever searching sister who, in Melbourne was not so lucky-in-love as many hope to be. But on tequila, (also know as te-almost-killed-me) night, she met someone. Yeah nothing spesh, everybody meets someone on schoolies I know, but, after their meeting they continued to be together like a proper couple. Monogamous.

This is like, defying the laws of gravity. And they did this THREE NIGHTS IN A ROW. Seriously, you could expect less from a christmas miracle. Shocking as it sounds, they continue to be cute and say cute things and miss each other proceeding the cold and sober reality that is home and routine. To be honest I can't really get my head around this one. Okay so maybe this doesn't read as shocking as it is in reality, so I will try and contextualise it. Picture easy, drunk girls throwing themselves at you like its going out of fashion. Bikinis. Vodka. Nightclubs. Relationships on schoolies breaks. Boys who literally run away when you tell them you are not planning on having sex with them. ANYTHING goes.

But these two opted to stay in on the couch watching TV TWO nights in a row.

Love really is a mystery I do not understand.

Schoolies did teach me some important and invaluable life lessons though, through both first hand and indirect experiences. For instance, if you are connected, you can get away with being seedy. Single guys will only rarely tolerate girls with boyfriends. Just because you have made it through year 12 and are on schoolies, this does not make you immune to the consequences of a 7 day bender. Never judge a trashy girl, she may be you soon enough. Sober guys are frigid and shy 90% of the time, on the other hand drunk guys are as predictable as getting wet in the rain. Boys + alcohol really show you who your friends are. Being 18 is actually the shittttttt!!!! The reckless abandon of youth is frikken sexy. Befriend all enforcers of authority (inc security guards, bouncers, cops, liquor store clerks ect)

See how wise I am?

prolouge to schoolies

until then

Okay so,
I just read that last post, and I thought, "in ten days I am going to be eighteen and a woman and I should probs suck this childish shit up and start acting my expected age."
Do you remember being told "act your age, not your shoe size." I remember that. My friends dad use to say it to us allll thhheee tiimmmee. Along with, "were you born in a tent?" when we didn't shut the door. Now that I think about it that would have probably pissed me off too. Like insanely.
Anyway for the record my shoe size is 9. My sister is 9, but I don't know her shoe size.
The worst thing is... yep we sure do have similar traits. We both can't take what we dish out, we both over exaggerate and dramatize everything and I am a self confessed sooky la la. This is like, half of what I'm supposed to be.
Okay eighteen, I expect to be demure, ambitious, sultry, confident, self assured, able to spell, clever and beautiful and capable. And to know things. Yeah nah, if there was a turning eighteen test I would FAIL. But luckily, like VCE, whatever you try you cannot fail whatsoever. Sick. But you will just get ranked. Low. Real low. Scum low. Thats pathetic low and disappoint your parents and disgrace your name. Love it.
I really feel being seventeen for a few more months would not go astray. That might be a good present that I forgot to put on my list that is stuck on the fridge. Along with my super good I.D that was unjustly taken away from me. Maybe if that bouncer was not a prick I would not hold a grudge. In my thoughts my tongue is stuck out. Not even my sister does that.
Its like this, I want to be skinny or whatev and I just ate my weight in everything (thanks family birthday dinner) and I'm blaming my lack of self control on my FOOD and not mySELF. If I was a proper eighteen year old I would just know what I eat and what I don't eat and be done with it.
When I grow up i'll let you know.
Until then I am just going to make myself feel better with Tic Tacs. I've got 10 days.

suburban incarceration

O
h

M
y

G
o
d
.

So many things are going on today because its my Mum's birthday. And it's weird because its like mid week and usually things do NOT happen on Wednesdays. Evah.
The phone is always ringing and I'm going to bake a cake. My sister has gone to school and we are going to send a parcel. Normal things, right? But they are all weirdly related and look like they have an agenda because they come under the sub heading of 'mums birthday'.

On this glorious day, which we appreciate more because the sun is out on the day of my mothers birth, I feel like I can look at myself and see what person I am.
I feel like a normal, greatful person stuck inside a short tempered persons life. Like, I hate this house that I live in, and find myself having to justify my hate to TOTAL STRANGERS that drive you home from netball when you fill in. "oh yeah thats my house down the end of the street, oh haha [polite laugh], yes well my parents are waiting to build. they didn't want to move. my brother was going to move. well we use to live in a good house."

God it sounds so desperate. And I know that the people don't give a shit, but it just comes out. I (not even secretly or discreetly) wish that we never moved from 'the mansion' - friends christened it, not us - and that when people drove me home they could still marvel over the red door and that we lived in the big house opposite the golf course. And I would be constantly greatful that I had like more than 1cm squared to myself.
Doing it again, I realize that.

So even though so many good things are happening, and I've been lucky all my life, I still get the urge to bang my head on this computer table and wait for the day that I am rewarded for this mother fucking penance.
The only thing I have learnt, the only thing, is that no good and selfless deed goes unpunished.
If you ever get the opportunity to kick and scream and tantrum to prevent something you don't want from happening, I beg you. DO IT.
If not for your own good for the good of others.
Never lend your things to friends, because eventually someone will break into their car and take it.
Don't help people with their homework.
And never, NEVER give selfish bitches the benefit of doubt. Because instead of 'another holiday in Bali!', you end up down $200 and in Surfers. Actually, hold that thought, because at this stage I'm still not sure if its a blessing in disguise.

But jeeze, I know that I sound like that song where the guy complains about his hard life being male middle class and white. I got it easy, nobody prejudices against me, my home is not being destroyed by companies who kill orangutans habitats for palm oil.
Oh my god, I am Emma Woodhouse ala Jane Austen.

telltale.

IN FEBRUARY I BROUGHT A FORTUNE BRACELET.
Feb the fourteenth, to be precise. I'm pretty sure it claimed to act as some sort of fortune magnet when you put it on, and then eventually when you have accumulated a sufficient amount of fortune, thus becoming fortunate, it falls off. And only in the last week has my bracelet began to deteriorate and maybe fall of in the near future. But to be honest I'm a bit hazy on what it really indicates.

Is it like, you have had enough fortunate things happen to you? You have reached the maximum number of fortunate situations and are no longer allowed assistance (if more is required go and pay $2 for another one). Or is it that you are now fortunate, and will continue to be? Maybe its just tricking you into perceiving the events of your life differently?

I don't know if I am any more fortunate than I was any number of months ago.
Like, there are so many fluctuating things going on all the time, how do you know which is better than the others? If it rains and ruins your day, is it fortunate because its an indication that the world is not turning to a burning hunk of shit because of global warming?
Fortune bracelet, tell me... will the proof be in the pudding or is the beauty in the eye of the beholder goddamn it.

Nevertheless, I suggest you invest $2 in this little universal talisman. Because, if anything it tricks you into being more susceptible to stumbling across happy, if relatively small in the grand scheme of things, that go on in your own life.
And you feel precious and lucky, and like your life is imbued with beauty and rarity, if only temporarily. Even if its just because the sun got up with you today, and when it set it made a pretty colour on the pavement.

D day night

You might know that tomorrow is the day that will determine like 1/4 of your life if you are year 12 student in Victoria. But whatevs no biggie - hence why I am on le blog.
Due to the utter un-importance of 9am - 12.15pm tomorrow. And the spell check.
I know what your thinking, but don't even worry, as a wise slut once told me "you are not going to learn anything the night before, so just relax and get some rest."
She was a little bit wrong, so far I have learnt that sluts are people too, and valuable contributors to our society.

So anyway if you life in the southern metropolitan area of Melb, which I call mah home town, you might notice that in these past few weeks everybody has been shacking up. People are joining hands and getting together like nobody's business and couples are slowly moving to that point where its necessary to change their facebook status' in the interest of an honest media.
f-r-e-a-k o-u-t.
Thats right, your pal-y highschool chums, smooth operators and modern day goddesses are trading in their unattainable persona's for something a little more traditional. What induced this change of heart and caused even the most lucrative of ladykillers to place their hearts on their sleeves?
Is it something profound and omnipresent, like the completion of high school - the end of an era - making everyone feel the need to cling to one another for dear life because the mere thought of living outside the structured walls of scholastica is so confronting? Or could it be that the window of opportunity to win over your high school sweetheart is closing indefinitely and never again will you be able to live their teenage dream.
You can thank Katy Perry for setting the standard so high.
Or, to abandon all fleeting and wonderful notions of manifestations of young love, perhaps it is merely that at the end of season 2 of gossip girl, Chuck Bass was finally tamed by Blair and because we gen yers cannot think for ourselves we followed suit.
Yeah.
So, for those parents yet to learn something the night before their childeren's english exam, let it be that if you want to know whats going on in their lives, season four is out online.
You were warned.

TRANSTITON.

The last days

of high school and it appears that everything is collapsing into one big heap. But not in a bad way, in kind of a manifestation way. And as things have fallen, they have been exposed.
Like I always wondered why people whip out their phones when they are by themselves. As if warding off any suspicion, like its okay, i'm on my phone. It's easily the most comforting thing do to when you are alone, why? Because by being on your phone, you are still in-touch with people, even though you are alone. Alone but not a loner. Clearly. Moreover, you seem cooler, because you are probs, actually deffs texting someone way more important/cool/hot/interesting than the people surrounding you. Especially when you have that self satisfied look on your face, or when you have sunglasses on.

Something else I realized was the magnitude of the compliment when someone asks you out and offers to pay for you. Think about it, you work for your money and are ready and willing to use it to give yourself a night out or whatever, people don't mind giving their money if they get something memorable in return. However, footing the bill for someone else is another matter. It is often out of obligation or 'duty' that people shout others. Or it may be that they are sa rich and money is a disposable thing for them. And they really, really wanted to point that out to you.
But in the case of those sincere offers, I think it means that the person really wanted to be with you. And like they pay for themselves to have the experience of you.
What a nice thought. Pity it only happens very very rarely.

Those are my only revelations for the moment. Hopefully there will be more in the course of the hardest month in my life so far and potentially ever. But all this commotion about VCE and graduating is making everything heaps clearer and in perspective.
I hope one day i'll read this and think I was over exaggerating because everything was fine.

Cross your fingers

HELLO! : Stranger

To the familiar and the unacquainted,
Hello, it has been a while.

But within reason, might I add. My life has been seized and evaluated by the constant god damn hierarchy that is VCE. But you know what, as sucky as it is not have a life and have partially become a paranoid Polly and constantly worrying that your friends are your enemies because you are really competing with EVERYONE even if they tell you it will be okay if they copy your homework just this ONCE, you get major sympathy votes.
From every single person ever.
And I love it. I truly do. And maybe I might like it if I had to stay year 12 forever because I get a kick out of people doing an "oh, your really in for it" expression and wishing you luck, because you both know that the only shit going to get you through it is a miracle.
When, at any other point in your life, can people relate to your misfortune and are willing to be compassionate without pretentious pity? Never, not unless you are enrolled in units 3 and 4 of various subjects and forfeiting any social life/sleep/peace of mind/health in exchange for a number that dictates the rest of your life.

That being said, the end of VCE is really the only motivator for me at the moment. But when the time comes that I walk out of my last exam, leaving behind me high school and its riveting bullshit, I will not only lament the passing of my longest rite of passage, but the lady at the Clinque counter. The one who told me I could "do it!" as she applied my makeup. And the other lady who chatted to me about how ludicrous our curriculum was compared to what they had to do.
Who's going to pat me on the back at university? No one. People only want you to pull up your socks and get your head on straight unless you are studying medicine.

God I sound like such a baby. But whatever. I am entitled to it, you have entitled us to the odd whinge and eating badly a little to often. You wish you were in my shoes. My straight-laced, cant-work-on-this-nice-day-because-I-have-study shoes.

Hopefully, I see you less cynical and with breath on the other side.
Until then.

After recently acting as the universes mouth piece for others, today it threw me a bone. I did not intentionally search for it like ancient artifacts or dinosaur bones, but rather was bombarded and overwhelmed with wisdom.
Sadly it told me any misfortune and failure was my own and not the product of an objective source (ie fate, God smiting me, a curse). Also that the indecision and abandon I applied to such outcomes were unjust and probably made things worse.
Hence, with anything, there are two sides to this coin we must consider.

HEADS: we have the power to direct everything we come into contact with and potentially posses. Practice making your hands do exactly what your brain tells it to do, and think about what you want then literally tell yourself to go and get it. This is a major breakthrough that justifies every addicts doctrine of "I swear I can stop anytime, I just don't want to." Heads tells us, yes you can! Truer words were never spoken, because you are the master of your very own self.
However, you also need to practice being really determined and decisive which is, like anything worth working toward, a tricky discipline to master.

TAILS: Get ready for your liberated self to be cut off at the knees, because Hi! Here comes a massive load of responsibility and realization that you have been living like an ambition paraplegic. Forget the days were you could type FML and receive sympathy for the scornful actions of the unfair universe. Now, with this knowledge, you are the destructive force dampening everything for yourself. That Grey cloud that is constantly hanging around threatening to rain on your parade actually is held by a string. That cute neighbor that still hasn't come knocking on your door with a wet T-shirt asking for a cup of sugar not as a result of fates cruel twists but, just because.
No doubt it takes two to tango, but the moves currently being busted on the dance floor are wayward, out of time and being led by a force that, frankly, could not care less. Take uncertainty by the hand and whisper in its ear everything you want. Maybe get it drunk and take advantage of it, whatever works for you.

All in all, with this discovery that has perhaps been blatently obvious to everyone but me, I fear I do not have the stamina to be the decisive and driven person. It takes a man to face the fact that bad things don't happen to happy people, life sometimes impinges on their constant contentment but the real disasters only happen to those who complain and spend a lot of time at home doing unproductive things.

Try and look at life for what it really is, not a paint by numbers or a game of roulette. The only thing controlled by external fortunes is at what point in time the wheel of fortune turns, but we have the power to guess and letter and win the word, take home a prize and pick up the letter spinner girl.

You know what they say... they're just jealous xx

Courtship wreck

Hi Skinny Minnies,
So anyway its formal coming up soon. Thats right, the fake tanned, false eye lashed monster that dominates day dreams of all year 12 girls. Possibly boys as well. Though in an unfortunate twist of fate my formal fantasies are not butterflies and anxious sublimity that resonates with formal.
Its a bit more like, shit. Shit as in shit I have no date.
This allows me, due to the increased 'independent' time on my hands, to ponder the question of the importance of formal (or prom) dates. Its human nature that draws people to one another, loneliness is probably the worst of the human conditions and hence why sociopath criminals are sent to drive themselves insane in solitary. Yet here I am, without a criminal record or an obvious and abnormal growth on my face and still without a partner.
Where to point the finger of blame? I suspect it is not a demand for males, as the majority of male population at my school remain stag. Similarly I doubt there are many who are "shy" or omit the social obligation to ASK someone. I fear, the real fault is the deterioration of this (now) pseudo necessity. The boys always ask the girls and thats the way it goes. This is unrelated to chivalry and not a marriage proposal, so what deters contemporary males from 'doing the deed'? Fear? Friends? Or the females themselves?
A phobia of rejection as a possible cause. Yes, it can be granted as an understandable source of negativity, but when remedied with logic proves irrational and textbook behavior of a pussy. Boys, imagine girls like spiders, more scared of [asking] you, than you are of it. Yep. This remains true and valid even after overhearing that sisterhood declaration of going all together as "friends", without dates and still managing to have an awesome night. Because, 9 times out of 10, things like that are LIES.
Girls need boys to have fun at events specifically designated for partners. Its like going to a pool party without your bathers. pointless, degrading and overall and unnecessary downer for the others. Even if there are 5 girls on the sidelines and seem as if they are all strategically partner less. They will shuffle around that venue with led feet.
If you are not a prick you can brace yourself for a big fat YES.
...One down, 2 to go.
The 'bros before hoes' friendship complex, this does puzzle me I must admit. Though I feel the immature antics of drunken boys obsessed with football may shed some light. Sources tell me of a "draft", wherein boys rank girls according to how hot they are, then allocate which boy has dibs on perusing the top, then the rest are allocated in succession. Although out of context, maybe this same technique is applied to potential formal dates?
Finally, the females. Is our condition the result of a terrible fault inherent in our own kind? Are we too picky and don't we smile enough? Despite being resolutely on the fence as each case study has a specific situation that is necessary to accommodate I believe it is us girls who deepen the chasm between dated and dateless. Tick too picky. Tick stand-offish. Tick intimidating. And this observation is made being one of the kind.

The upshot of all this is, single ladies don't despair. Although one is undoubtedly the loneliest number, it is probably the most common. I don't know how fun your formal might be as a single digit, but to avoid this try channeling all your negative energy into emitting positive vibes and smiling more. A bit of cleavage cant hurt either. Boys, lets not wait around for conscription.

In any case, Miu Miu has some supersexyminx heels circulating the catwalks that are worthy of your most potent and intense envy. But these are things you ladies can work toward. Don't give up dreams or day jobs... with the right price you can have both!
You know what they say... they're just jelous xx

Something to look forward to...

Sometimes high heels and Highschool feel like the end of the world.
At the moment I will agree with that despite having an end to look forward to. So today, boys and girls, the real question is, why does our generation live pre-Enlightenment and believe the earth is a flat asphalt surface, perhaps akin to a basketball court with imprisoning lockers? Us who are supposedly (hopefully) edging society further and further away from convention and dreaded conformity are actually jumping into the laps of others we despise yet inadvertently worship to make these days eclipse our brutal teenage angst. As much as we may choose to deny this, the question still remains. I know this, because of the people who behind the alias of a FB profile claim to be indifferent to school yard bullying and rumors as they leave the school.
Highschool is pain. Let us consult the seven stages of grief...
1) Shock and denial. As above
2) Pain and guilt. For our actions - highschool has been known to break individuals down to a ductile and placid state of compliance
3)Anger and bargaining - classic teenage rebellion.
4)Depression, reflection and loneliness. " I worked out that I can buy 4 liters of goon for $20..."
5)The upward turn. Exams are over, light is seen, that biatch you hate god wasted and macked on with some loser.
6)Reconstruction and working through. Your adolescent blindfold is removed. You discover the earth is of spherical nature and adjust your outlook accordingly.
7)Acceptance and hope. Its over. You've made it out with relatively inconspicuous emotional scarring but all in all it was a generally character building experience.
... Perhaps after crossing over it was not so bad after all! Kanye West tells us " that that that don't kill me, only makes me stronger" and to confirm this we can consult any American rite-of-passage film that will no doubt depict a wayward highschooler with a Disney ending.
This, it seems is the way adolescence should be viewed and not as some mortifying coming of age necessity. I'll be the first to put my hand up to killing off the whinging, puffy eyed and boy crazy version of myself, however being in my last year I will lament the loss of riveting school yard drama and the infinite debate of who copied who's hairstyle first and a cute uniform.
Therefore, comrades, let us refrain from throwing ourselves on the floor like eight year old's when the wheel of fortune doesn't turn our way and instead try to look older than our ages until we turn 18 and can speed away leaving highschool to bite our dust.

On an unrelated note, apparently Taylor Momsen is leaving her character Jenny on Gossip Girl to focus on her singing. Why oh why would she jeopardize her popularity like that? Lest we forget those who have fallen from the prestigious A-List or at least permanently wounded their cred after tampering with fame and fluctuating from screen to song. Li-Lo, Miss Duff, Miss Holly Valance, Mrs Johanson. Taylor, we understand you are a rebel and do not want to be considered a role model, but it is not necessary to walk a haunted route to prove your point. Lets not be hasty.








You know what they say, they are just jealous xx