Where to purchase 'Flying Free: An Instruction Manual' for only 3.99?

Herman was rushing forwards, his arms held protectively over his bowed head, his tiny feet scurrying over thin twigs and powdered pebbles, and his over-sized shorts slipping dangerously as they ballooned out from the wind.

"I've had it!!" he screamed up into the sky.

Above him circled and swooped at least ten colourful birds, all of them calling out in gleeful squawks.

"You'll get yours!!" Herman shouted. He dived out from the dried patchy grass that he had been running in and slid to a stop in front of his dearest, oldest friend Tenstal.

"Herman, old fellow!" Tenstal boomed. "What a comical surprise this is! I can't quite understand why you must slide into my presence whenever we meet, but however, I am very pleased you do."

"Oh shut it!" Herman staggered upright and brushed himself off grumpily.

Tenstal chuckled. "Have some tea," he motioned to the absurdly large teapot that sported a ridiculously curvaceous spout sitting on the little table next to him.

"You think you're protected, do you?" Herman grumbled, reaching for the teapot.

"Under here," Tenstal spread his arms wide, motioning to the veranda he was sitting under, "Nothing evil shall enter."

"Oh go boil your left toe." Herman was having quite a difficult time lifting up the teapot. It was just far too heavy. He decided to heave the pot forwards without even lifting it, ignoring the scratches it made on the wooden table, and he aimed the spout at the tiny teacup. Nothing came out. He waited, sweat forming on his brow, his eyes glancing in a spasmodic way to the scratches.

"Allow me," Tenstal said.

Herman shrieked and let go. "Must you yell!"

The teapot swayed from side to side in an unnerving manner- as it was clearly too heavy to move by human hand.

"Is this a normal thing!?" Herman demanded. "I have just ran from my house under siege of your birds, the least I can be offered in return is some hot tea! Why is this so hard to use?!"

"Sit! Sit!" Tenstal gestured, enjoying his little friend. It had been far too long since they interacted in such a humorous way. Herman had a flair for the dramatics that Tenstal found delightful.

"Are you enjoying your persimmons and parsnips?" he asked Herman as he lifted the pot in one easy motion and poured out the steaming pink liquid.

Herman stared.

"Boursella has been in such an alphabetic mood lately," Tenstal continued without missing a beat. "All she does involves the letter P. It would drive me crazy if she were not so utterly beautiful."

"Are you a wizard?" Herman demanded in a fit of unhealthy rage. 

"Hmmm?" Tenstal looked up.

"YOU ARE CLEARLY A MAN OF TRICKS! ARE YOU NOT?"

Herman felt his insides squirm uncomfortably. He vaguely entertained the thought of hosting a hex, one that produced living, crawling things inside the body for an afternoon of entertainment in the utmost hideous horror one can experience. But he shrugged these thoughts away. Tenstal was the most mild-mannered friend he had the pleasure of encountering, and, if proven to be a wizard, would only use his magic for healing injured animals and growing Herman longer legs so he could reach the top shelf.

"Herman, oldest friend, sit and have this tea. You will feel right as the day you were born, I insist." Tenstal set the teacup with painted faces of kittens across the table and Herman sat begrudgingly down upon the brightly painted spindly wooden chair. 

Tenstal could hear mumblings such as pain in my manicured ass and kind of magic potion nonsense is this, but he chose to ignore and smile on serenely out to his feathered friends in the sky,

"I must say, it is good to be sitting down," Herman said after a few mouthfuls.

Tenstal sighed suddenly. "Alas! All those hours of my time gazing upon the fine workmen of today and all the golden coins from my pocket and still, still, this post is to display itself crooked."

And much to Hermans disbelief, Tenstal waved a crooked-looking tree branch and the veranda post visibly straightened.

 

   

   ;;

  /_\

,./~\.,

(6_6)

Does the portal come straight back again?

OK THEN.
Just quickly before I have to run off and do life like I always do: fast and somewhat awkward.
THE CHALLENGE HAS BEEN DISTINGUISHED!
FUCK the challenge.
Have you ever just stopped and looked at the shape of your fingerprints? Like, in a real 'how would I in actual realness scrape these off if I happened to be part of some criminal activity?' kind of way?? Or is it just me?

So the healthy eating challenge just shone light on how much crap I was eating, and so by the first week I gave up. Then the second week swung around, with about as much force as that time I played baseball and got hit in the arm by some uncoordinated ten year old wearing knee pads and hiding one slice of orange in his short pocket for whatever reason, and I just ate healthy because I was tired of never sleeping properly. I thought if I couldn't fix my over-imaginative brain, I would fix everything else except for exercising.
Who wants to exercise after sleeping only four hours interrupted with the light on, waking up with eye pain and neck ache only to slog on off to a double shift in yesterdays clothes?
Exactly.

~lifegoals

One week without sugar was IMMENSELY SATISFYING. I felt cleansed, calm, almost as if I was shining out some kind of magical light of health and vitality. Instead of sugar I made sure to eat one salad each day for either lunch or dinner and drink five glasses of water.

Things that helped my extreme night anxiety:
~ Knitting with a tv show on in the background
~ Water
~ The light on
~ Time, in which nothing happened, and the horrors of those articles with all those poor people suffering for no reason faded from my memory like all things must

Basically nothing else helped. They say it will help, all the people all the time, everyone who isn't experiencing the actual anxiety that is about something random and fictional and mostly improbable.
They all say to take medication, sleeping tablets, a hot drink, think of something else, of course it won't happen, it never happens, blah blah, etc etc.
It doesn't matter to my overworked brain that it most likely will never happen. All that matters is I somehow have these thoughts and they aren't going away.
Anxiety is bending down to press your serene, calm, smooth cheek against the cool floor, while underneath that floor your face is staring upwards, full of lines, scratch marks, and bags, scrunched up in a never-ending scream.


So! A little bird follows me around, but at a distance, and always perches on a handrail as I walk past, but turns its back to me as I do, and then I turn to peek at him and he turns his head slightly but then looks away quickly, and I turn too, and laugh and laugh. Because every time I walk outside he flies around and lands on the rail and looks at me, then turns his back, and I pretend not to notice.
-- Kind of like other experiences that also made me laugh and laugh.

And that's a wrap!
Au revoir!
Or something!

   ;".___.";
 <(;___#)>

Do I have to go to work tomorrow?

Hello there!

A quick note: I have not taken this challenge seriously at all. Huehuehueeeeeeee

Something true: What I have taken seriously is every single person suffering in every single part of the globe, particularly girls sold into the sex slave trade.
~ It's a real problem
Scenario: I will be randomly driving along the road in the sunshine listening to music, when suddenly the thought of any poor girl in that heinous position will flit through my mind, causing me a great deal of anguish, guilt, and disgust. I feel utterly helpless to do anything for them- being just one small girl myself- and I feel bucket-loads of extreme guilt. How dare I be allowed to live this comfortable modern life while others on the planet are suffering so? I have taken no part in their suffering yet I am haunted.
~~ So.. it's a Real Problem
Must I make peace with my situation and accept the ying-yang of life in all its essence, believing that somehow whatever greater being above or around has a 'grand plan'? Must I take a philosophy class and absorb all religious/philosophical content while also partaking in hours of soul meditation and god-like levels of serenity?

The Reality of Life: How To Deal With Terrible Situations That Have Nothing To Do with you But Could If Only You Tried Hard Enough

Further on, my plants are growing massively! They are now three times the size they were in previous posts when I was lugging them about the place. I no longer lug these days, I just chug. Mouthfuls of strongass coffee. HUEHUEHUE.
But in all realness that is entirely 84% less real then my last post will ever be, sometimes you just want to chug a really bombass coffee and there is none so you die a little on the inside. And sometimes you just need to clean your house, knit your hat, and scroll through pinterest until your fingers cramp.


6TH SEPTEMBER [THURSDAY]
Slept
Yesterday's sleep marked the pattern of 'pass out at 7pm, wake up at 4am' that I have now been on for a few days. It's actually really cool because even though I sleep with the light on, laptop in my bed either quietly playing broad city or birds of youtube, and my phone not on charge so it turns off halfway through the day and I miss Life.. I have been feeling more stable in myself. No longer is that cloud of extreme anxiety clinging to my brain like an unwanted house-guest who eats all the lamingtons and spends an hour each day in the tub doing god-knows-what because they certainly never appear any prettier or substantially well-groomed, nor has the water bill skyrocketed suggesting overly-long soaks in the tub with glasses of pinot noir, so what exactly has been going on in that closed room??
I feel like the thought of 'light on' as a sort of protection barrier is quite helpful in being able to allow myself to fall asleep unarmed. Also, the fact that I am extremely tired by that time of day helps, too.
~Still working on trying to detach myself from the horrors of the real world

Eaten
Two toasts with peanut butter and black coffee, handful of grapes for morning tea and one coffee, half a butter sandwich for lunch because one half fell on the floor and I was with company that made me reluctant to apply the 3 second rule. Jk, I never use that. I never eat off the floor. I only ever eat from surfaces or crockery.
~ It's all in your head, Alice. But why should that make it unreal?
Dinner was then slices of bread topped with ham, cheese, and pineapple, melted in the grill, along with extreme amounts of garlic bread.
It has just come to my attention that I forgot to put deodorant on this morning, went to work, came home and changed into a comfy shirt and pants, only to omit the use of underarm smell again, therefore, I now pong like the almighty.

Exercised
None. And it will probably be none throughout the whole of this challenge. Thank you, and good night.


7TH SEPTEMBER [FRIDAY]
Slept
From about 8pm until 4am

Eaten
Two toasts with vegemite and a black coffee. One butter sandwich and a coffee. One Twix chocolate bar. A few mouthfuls of a peanut butter sandwich between shifts and one Turkish Delight chocolate bar. One lindt chocolate and a berry fruitbox. I decided to cook dinner as Bae is sick, so I made parmesan and spinach chicken over rice with mushrooms and garlic. The BEST. Dessert was a mini choc lava cake.

Exercise
None.


8TH SEPTEMBER [SATURDAY]
Slept
From around 10pm until 4am, in the usual passed-out way while all the lights and computers are on. This is actually the first time in my life that I need to sleep with SOUND on. I have always been baffled by people who can sleep with light and noise, now I am one of them.

Eaten
Two toasts with peanut butter, black coffee, grapes mid-morning snack. Leftover parmesan chicken for lunch. A store-bought cappuccino that I never finished because I passed out for two hours in a nap of bliss. Dinner was pre-made rice from the freezer along with some packet frozen veggies that tasted ick, some cut up capsicum and little bits of ham. Basically the worst dinner around.
Two mini packets of salt and vinegar chips around 10pm.

Exercised
None.


Well it's all been much ado about nothing.
~ Must go sort my papers!
Adios!
👽

How to feel satisfied with the ordinary when everything you want is extraordinary?

Hello and let's get right down to it..


3RD SEPTEMBER [MONDAY]
Slept
About four hours, woke up at 4.30am to get ready for work

Eaten
Two toasts for breakfast with black coffee, leftover fried rice dish for midmorning snack, which is when I normally have a meal because I'm starving by 10am if I eat breakfast at 4.30, nothing because I had an exhausting day where I needed to clean up the entire inside of the fridge because I spilled a whole jug of milk in it. U____U
Dinner was fried rice again.. or was it?

Exercised
None, but I did vigorous dancing whilst cleaning the dishes  *thumbs up emoji


4TH SEPTEMBER [TUESDAY]
Slept
About five hours this time

Eaten
Two toasts with peanut butter and black coffee, snack was a handful of jatz crackers with butter, came home and had the last of that rice- DELISH- and then I decided to cook an amazing pizza from scratch with two types of ham, canned pineapple, capsicum, mushroom, and lots of cheese. On a last minute whim I decided to cut up a stick of bread, whipped up some buttery garlic mixture that was far too buttery and without the appropriate amount of garlic (which is a shit tonne), and roast that.
I also made a batch of gluten free apple muffins from a packet to take to my friend's house the next day.
~Simply Winning
After all that I sat on my bed, all ready to quickly finish the beanie I'm knitting, and immediately fell asleep.

Exercised
None, but but BUTTTTTTTT, I did about two hours of house cleaning when I got home and danced along to some funky tunes while doing it

Note: The previous two days I had actual real-live plans to go for a run after work on Monday and Tuesday, but I really didn't feel like it after those hectic days slathered in the whole 'remember only to put a pinch- A PINCH- that's right, of 'sleep essence' because too much can cause soul cleansing on such a level that no one has ever seen before and, while entirely not harmful to the individual or anyone around them, no one should have to see. People need freedom! And that is the freedom to choose exactly what they see, and where they see it!'


5TH SEPTEMBER [WEDNESDAY]
Slept
A solid 8 hours I reckon, from after dinner until about 4.40am the next morning. So good!!

Eaten
Two toasts with peanut butter and one apple muffin with a black coffee. I passed out in bed before I could taste them or put them away or really do anything with them at all.
The last half packet of garlic bread chips.
Chicken risotto polo and a garlic prawns to share whilst out with nanna, then one apple muffin and one fruit mince pie with my friend. Four white coffees, which resulted in... stuff. Then a slice of pork and a baked potato for dinner, came home and passed out in bed, resulting in another great night of about 7 hours sleep!

Exercised
None. Spent all day out with nanna, a friend, and my parents, so by the time I got home it was dark and I'm not running in the dark! Fuck No.


[#] Sleep is a major factor in my food choices and exercising. I want to get back into doing beginners yoga from the youtube video as well as daily sit-ups and push-ups, drink more water, eat more salad (or just a salad) daily, and relaxify with the knitting.
💞



Dear Noah, we could have sworn you said the ark wasn't leaving til 5, sincerely The Unicorns

Where does Hove get such curvaceous threes?

ORGASM TIME!!!
^__--

~Things Today that have caused me such bliss that it was akin to experiencing an orgasm of the Soul
1. I called in sick to work, which I don't normally do, and I lay in bed with bae for a super long time. BLISS

2. Rediscovered Sherlock with Benedict C etc. ELECTRIFYING (and really funny)

3. Sat with a fresh hot black coffee and watched my plants languish in the sun while birds swooped around in a happy way. SOUL SQUENCHING

4. Bought petrol and decided to buy a drink by the name of 'Ovi Watermelon' because, FUCK life and all it's rules, tragedies, complications. I will drink this flavoured water, possibly develop cancer, and die happy. However, while I was sighing in a heavenly stupor at my level of bombass brilliance, I realised the bottle was on the highest shelf of the fridge section and that I literally could not reach it. What? Even?
--So I flagged down a real tall, European-looking chap and was all 'hey there, are you able to get me down that bottle of sex-me-up-right-this-minute-with-your-juicy-as-mother-fuckin-wet-ways?(except I just said watermelon ovi like a normal person), to which he grinned a little and said 'it is hi isn't it?'
Tall men.. 💗 THIRST QUELCHING

5. It was ASTRONOMICAL. So then, while being enveloped in a cloud of dreams and ponies and all things soft (except furbies because they are nightmares and you know it) I thought 'Cerri, fuck it up'- which, in Cerri shorthand, means 'Dude, buy that amazing rice dish from that Thai place and take a bath in it'.
-- I only needed like five seconds to really think it through, and that was: bank account? Check. Hunger levels? Check. Emotionally stable? Check. Practical? JUST DRIVE GURL!!

~One thing that comes from regularly experiencing buyers anxiety and having a goal that requires maximum saving skills, is that I always feel like I shouldn't do the things I want. I hardly ever buy clothes, or household things, or good food, or furniture I actually need... There's always a reason to save up, therefore my brain is always running through a checklist of of pros and cons.

Yesterday all my favourite songs came on one after the other on the radio while I was driving home from work. Then all my other fave songs came on my iPod while I was driving some place else, and it was a real 'raise your hand to the sky in a moment of feel' kind of day.

The outfield - Your Love
Dragon - Rain
Fleetwood Mac - Rhiannon
Tears for Fears - Everyone wants to rule the world
Toto - Hold the line
Dead or alive - You spin me round
Blondie - Call me

Jessica Lea Mayfield - Somewhere in your heart
Tear you apart - She wants revenge
Lights on - I the Sun
Abba - Lay your love on me

~My September Challenge which I started yesterday being the 1st
Another challenge! (^___^)v
This one is basically to stop eating junk food, start exercising, and try to sleep for seven-eight hours solid a night.
All these things are not currently happening in my life. As such, I how can I possibly outrun a horde of freshly-bitten zombies if I am some sort of exhausted, sluggish, flabby humanoid constantly chowing down zickles bars and complaining to anyone who listens about my ever-increasing muscle aches and inability to find that one ABBA song?
Exactly.

1ST SEPTEMBER
Eaten
Two toasts with vegemite, half an avocado sandwich, pumpkin and pine nut fritata, fruit salad in a bowl, one creme brulee of the euphoric kind, four little snack packets of chips because I was feeling quite anxious and hungry but couldn't be bothered cooking

Slept
The best 7 hours in the past two months

Exercised
None, but I did work a double shift


2ND SEPTEMBER [TODAY]
Eaten
Two Toasts with peanut butter, 9 jatz crackers with butter and one apple- I was SO HAPPY to eat that apple, being fruit intake and all- two slices of lamington cake with custard and strawberries, mouthsex- I mean rice, cucumber and lettuce

Slept
Three hours, woke up, moved around, went back to sleep for about two and a half hours, then woke up and stayed up

Exercised
None


~My aim in this challenge that I will hopefully touch slightly with a warmed, steady, sculpted, non-greasy hand
Or, you know, just brush ever so lightly with a chilly fingertip, seeing as it's winter and I'm short af.
I really love to banish this anxiety for good. This will require a lot of effort, mental strength, a change of approach, and pretty much all of my dwindling willpower. Man, I gotta find me a outlet coz dayum I need some charging stat.
Controlling the rampant anxiety will then allow me to sleep better, achieving my 7-8 hrs sleep. This will help me make healthier food choices, give me energy to do the exercise or at least put me in the frame of mind to flirt with the idea of putting on my runners, and generally make me a swell lass.
Like, let's straighten this crown.

        .
     .*
    / \
_/ __\_
U^_^U

Who do we call at the edge of night?

Ok! I am sitting!
There is never a greater time to be alive than when you have fresh hot coffee in your favourite mug, sunshine streaming in all the windows, birds frolicking around in the backyard, and your aching feet are resting upon a medium sized box filled with plastic bags.
I am a queen.
(Not really. Though if I were a queen, I would be in the know about all this 'lizard people' stuff, and, consequently, immortal, so my reign would be supreme but also highly terrifying)
Or maybe I'd just watch myself drift away without further thought.

At The Moment
~ Coffee I am drinking: Nescafe Gold greenblend 2 mild
~ Songs I am listening to: the bloodhound gang, Amy Shark- I swear someone is crawling around in my roof. I feel like we had a possum, and now we just have one mouse that wakes me up at random times with it's chewing, but I still wonder if an actual person can climb up into my roof, seeing as we live in one of those courtyard maisonette homes where two small houses share one roof. -- Well I just googled it and it looks like the front of the house is connected, which is alarming because that's where our manhole is. ANYWAY

For those of you who want all the afflictions that artificial colouring, preservatives, flavours, enhancers, and possibly remnants of human have to offer, then waltz on in to your local supermarket and purchase the fruit and nut m&m block of chocolate. You will not be sorry.

I NEED NEW SONGS PEOPLE. Amy Shark is the closest I have come to finding something that doesn't remind me of anything in my 20s. That's right, I am the big 30. As much as I love to keep the public (all two of you ^__^) guessing, I will come clean and say that for a 30 year old, my life is quite a fantasy. That is: I fantasise about a different reality, haw haw haw!

Today I went grocery shopping and some things happened in a particular order. I thought to myself 'Jesus, how tired can you get? And why are you out doing your shopping when the kids will come out of school and bombard you like the impossibly haggardish old crone that you are??' and then I replied with 'Hey, chill out, it's all goooood, ride the wave of bliss man, peace out, love to your mother', so of course I was like 'HOW DO YOU KNOW MY MOTHER?? EXPLAIN YOURSELF!' to which I responded with in heavy disdain, 'Woman, y'all know I'm you. Quit playin and buy that damn cheeseburger.'
Which, all things considered, is quite racist of me.

THEN, I ambled aimlessly down the aisles as kids poured in and women rushed past looking well-presented while their teenagers dawdled behind playing games on their phones, shrugging away greasy hair and staring around the place at people who they thought weren't looking at them.
I chucked in a few things. I stayed a painfully long time at the meat section for someone who had raved about becoming a vegan, I wondered what to do about dinner what with buying a pasta sauce or a curry sauce or God Forbid making one from scratch, I meandered on past the frozen pizza section, I momentarily lost an entire shelf section of an aisle until I realised I had my back to it while I was looking at the instant noodles and had to make my way back to it from the other end of the store.. All this happened, and much much more.
I wanted to buy another coconut shampoo because my hair is kind of dry looking, so I weighed up all the shampoos [WHY are there so many?? How different can they all be?] and settled on the ogx brand called Extra Strength damage ready plus coconut miracle oil. Good lord this coffee just got 73% more shit since I started drinking it.
So I was really excited to try out this shampoo and conditioner! What a time to be alive when shampoo arouses a sense of enjoyment. But nonetheless, as soon as I went back to my usual shopping I was hit with buyers anxiety. It's all like 'WHAT YOU BUYIN EXPENSIVE SHAMPS GURL? HALF PRICE?? WHATEVS, JUST USE LEMON AND BAKING SODA LIKE US NORMS' and by 'norms' this clearly 'as opposite to Cerri as anyone can get' spokesgirl for my own personal anxiety actually means 'cheapass broke bitches'.
As much as I love the smell of the 1.99 shampoo, I've reached a time in my life where things must change.

So after paying almost one hundred dollars for collective foodstuffs and beauty care products, I carried my anxiety out of that shop and as I was walking to my car I noticed a tall man wandering in with only half a mustache. It was all dark, long, and dangling in a way that made it impossible not to stare on one side, while completely shaven with maybe one hour of growth stubble forming on the other.
This led me to think about males as an entire gender, and let me tell you, nothing good came from viewing that half mustache. It is an abomination, and if there were such a thing as a time machine I would HOP IN ONE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.

Ok, now to crack open this tightly wound shell (or peel it, maybe, seeing as it's a shell, and why hammer full-blow first off when you can gently maneuver your prize over a length of time using an array of skill and objects..?) AND THAT IS:

You can't really look into the ugliness of the world. When it stares back at you, unblinking, unflinching, unwilling to cease, you have no choice but to stay awake and drown in your overlapping guilt/shame/fragility. You fear the dark because bad things happen in the dark. You fear closed doors, isolation, the quiet, the news, the cold hard truth.

Or do you?
'Gurl, you better not be messin'. You know Shaniqua gon come up dere and whoop yo ass '.
Or some such.
IT HAS BECOME ALARMINGLY APPARENT that my inner voice is somehow much sassier than I and also, somehow, from the 'hood.

In other news, I am growing an onion from sprout.

~ And so, in conclusion, upon returning home I found a chocolate stain on my pants, and because of the nature of my work, I had to bend down and smell it just to make sure it that it was, indeed, just chocolate. I think this pretty much sums up my life.

Just Chocolate: the brand you don't have to sniff!

But Also
* It's a darn shame you can't just erase half a month, or an entire month, or, like, a situation in which you read an article that upends your entire world so you end up sitting on your bed all night with an over-sized sword, a hairdryer, two packets of matchsticks, and a jar of blutack, just basically waiting for nothing. --Because I feel that the past two months of my life have been the most unproductive waste of time I have ever had the displeasure of being involved in, and seeing as I am the only one to blame in this scenario, I therefore also have deep levels of self-annoy that seems to be rising every day this scenario continues.

* I am a plant queen. Or should that be kween?

* I want to get up close to people, look them real in the face, grab their shoulders, shake them, and say 'do you not SEE what is happening??'

* ~Also, I'd like to do that ol science stuff so I can see what floats around in people's minds. How, exactly, do they go through life in this haze of ignorance?
*~~ But also though, HAVE YOU WATCHED THE HUMUNGKULOUS(cannot spell it, will not search it, so that's just how it sounds)VIDEOS THAT SOME CRAZY RUSSIAN DUDE IS PUTTING UP? It involves him combining his semen with a chicken egg embryo (??) and growing one starfish monster with some sort of eye and another globular monster with a tongue, that end up moving together while sitting in the same tank, and forming.
~Forming
~Together
~As. One.

* [deep breath] CONFESSION: I might have sliced a pineapple top off a pineapple, right, and then twisted it off that base to reveal the roots, ok, then plucked out some of the lower leaves, you feel, all in preparation to plant it- having established that I am now a kween- to grow more, BUT THEN, realised I had no potting mix to plant it in.
TL;DR: I disrobed (or skinned alive) a pineapple and feel highly disturbed because of it.

* After re-watching Borad City for the thousandth time because it does certain things to my soul that shall remain unnamed, I have moved on to Shadowhunters, which also does certain things to my soul in entirely different ways, even thought being a little lame on the script and acting side but heavy on the visuals and action.


[#] This has once again been a broadcast of the Cerri kind with only one message and that is: OR DID IT? Stay tuned for more upright sleeping and dish wash doing!



I lie half awake thinking what's it going to take
Trying to catch myself before I fall, but it's a little too late

What colour is the flamingo?

~ Things I have done in life recently~

+ Almost choked to DEATH on a single vitamin C tablet but was literally brought back to life by bae
+ Read a disturbing article that disturbed me in so many hideous ways about the nature of people that I didn't sleep for an entire week
+ Bought an amazing dress that makes me feel like actual Cinderella
+ Cooked some delicious meals and wondered if I should, in all fairness, start up my own restaurant
+ --foods cooked being: creamy parmesan and chicken with spinach on rice, and a type of oniony garlicky chickeny wrap with salad
+ Pondered a career change
+ Painted a caticorn
+ Started knitting a beanie
+ Put on one kilo
+ Ran around the block once, past a nice african couple who said 'Hi', to which I replied 'Hey, how's it going?' to which they replied 'We're good how are you?' to which I then puffed 'Hot!' followed by a rather manic and breathless cackle
+ Ate TWO slabs of the creamiest, sexiest, fucken tiramisu money can buy on two separate occasions
+ Attended a high school formal just for the fun of it
+ Stubbed my badly-healed mildly-fractured toe whilst running all my millions of plants outside to experience some halfassed sunshine
+ Spent 52.89 on three bird statues and two toadstool statues, for no reason other than how fkn cute are bird statues? They always look pleasantly curious
+ Really thought about things
+ Imagined a baby wearing tiny earmuffs
+ Decided to go vegan, but never did
+ Ordered food at a fast food place and realised halfway through that a GIANT MOTHERFKG SPIDER was sitting IN the menu board
+ Cleaned everything
+ Planned out my entire life on paper, which may or may not be a bit sad
+ Read The Casual Vacancy by JK Rowling and was, once again, disturbed beyond measure at the cruel and disgusting things humans do
+ Yawned while sitting in a burlesque club only to have a large guy ask me why I'm so tired
+ -- and all I had to say was:

[💝] Amy Shark, I SAID HI [💝]



~That song pretty much sums up my life at the moment

What do you mean 'we can't move time backwards' ?

.JUST ADD POTLUCK.

Or don't. Whichever. ^_^v
I chose to spend quite a lot of time in the sluggish 'woe is me' category, but then I realised that a lot of people live there and it was a miserable place. So I legged it outta there.

~Plant update!
I have exactly 101 plants blooming to date! --I know! Go me!
Some are in the 'just sprouting' stage and others are in the 'look at us! We're almost ten centimeters tall!!' stage, and I have to keep remembering to care for the youngins appropriately instead of that blanket care I give them when I'm tired or can't be arsed. It's a pain, but it's worth it.
So! One hundred plants means that as soon as I rise with the sun, I trudge all the way from my room at the front of the house to the living room at the back of the house, about six or seven times, to put ALL of the plants in the morning Eastern sun. There's a lot of huffing as I am one small lady, but also, there's a lot of kind words like 'aren't you gorgeous!' and 'I'm so sorry I farted! That smells rank!' and 'Oooooh, beautiful foliage guys, keep up the good work!' and 'How are you doing so well?? I swear I'm neglecting all of you, but you're doing an amazing job! Amazing! Fuck it's cold!'
And so forth.
Basically, I like to murmur a flow of positive sayings whether true or not, because I know the power of speech- having spent most of my life struggling with it and being the reciprocate of negative sayings- and it all counts! All of it! The kind stuff feels great only because the bad stuff feels shit.
Anywho,
After I handle my well-travelled plants -they must be the only plants in the street to see the front and back of their house!- I check to see if they need water before rushing off to work and spending all day wondering if they're cold, hot, dying of undernourishment, if I should fertilise more, less, or what it actually tells me on the packet, and I must say, they give me due anxiety. Due because I don't really bother with reading much about them.
Then I race home and immediately check on them, much to the surprise and amusement of bae, thus ensuring the retracing of steps as I lug them all back into my room to put the heater on for the nighttime chill.
When it's a nice sunny day I like to put them outside on my days off, but even then, I watch them constantly to make sure the ever-growing amount of birds wandering about out lawn don't attack them, or a basketball from the neighbours doesn't bounce on over and take them out, or it starts to rain and they all drown...
>____<

A few days ago I transplanted them all into separate pots so and this was a S E L F I S H decision. One, so I could identify them easier, or at all seeing as how half of them are from a packet labelled 'cottage garden' with vague instructions of care on the back-- also giving me mild anxiety! Two, so I could see how each of them was going. And I have to say, here and now, while I'm being 100 per cent honest, they seemed to do better in groups where they could talk to each other, share secrets, and help each other grow. I thought, maybe I had been too hasty at trying to get them all away from each other because I thought they were tearing the nutrients from one another like all humans seem to do, when I never even thought to pay closer attention to what was really going on. Maybe they were helping each other grow and the slight tinge of yellow on the leaf ends was actually due to inadequate fertilisation, or lack of sunlight, or transplant shock?
Whenever I transplant them and at random times throughout the day I say with soft exclaim and a teensy bit of desperation: 'you know, this is my first time growing seeds! I'm not plant orientated at all! Sorry there! I do apologise for my misgivings, and I will make it up to you by showering you in over-watering, under-fertilising, and vague glances in your general direction at least once a day!' then finish with a flourish of 'Oh! Also! I will most definitely try to save the ones of you who decide to droop in a wilting way, with my little plump fingers, far too big for handling tiny plant sproutlings, and therefore, inevitably tearing the lushly divine greening leaves of growth! Apologies apologies! Well much to do, must dash! Good day!'

And such.

 _____
{####}
  }~~{
(@__^)

~~ Syril! I'm out of sugar! How can I be out of sugar on Flapjack Day? To the store at once!!

If it stops spinning can we go home?

1. 

Kristopher... I LOVE the idea! Matching tattoos sounds amazing, and we must get on this asap.

Stat.

Pronto.

Get it DID.

Inkwells and quills. ➽➹➼

💘

There must be no delay! Hit me up and we will chat it out!

2.

My days have been:

~ Wake up

~ Work

~ Take part in the rat-race to earn that moolah

~ Spend time caring for my young plants ^_^

~ Cook dinner. I am not a fan of cooking, but it must be done and I refuse to cook shit. It will be veggies, a form of fish or chicken, juice/broth from the veggie water, yoghurts and fruits. Alternatives are a creamy chicken pasta or a thai curry dish. I do not cook every night, but when I do I make sure to create as much mess as possible.

~ Log on to social media

~ Attend to mindless social media for about five hours

~ Watch Supernatural for about seven hours

~ Fall asleep late and ensure that the slumber is filled with as much unease as possible, for whatever reason

~ Wake up. Reapeat.

Upside: I'm smashing out all those Supernatural episodes. *Insert smug emoji here

I must watch more anime! I feel as though the anime universe is jumping with action and I'm just twiddling my perfectly manicured thumbs over by the enormous tumbleweed.

3.

I'd love to get my yoga on, but I'm sitting in front of this delicious slice of tiramisu and well... We all need a dream.. 

^_^v

4. 

One day I was driving down this amazing street with those tall autumny trees surrounded by fallen leaves, dew drops glistening here and there, the sun shining in a very weak way, and as I was driving I noticed these three pigeons waddling about in a cluster. They were having a gay old time on the road curb, fluffing about in the leaves as if looking for worms or food, and as I drove past, one of the pigeons started chasing one of the others, and the pigeon being chased turned and chased the third one, and they were all chasing each other in a little line of bobbing heads with points on the top like tiny hats. 

It was magical.

Pigeons are the GREATEST. 

I would BE a pigeon. It all honesty, since we're here baring our souls, and I would chase my fellow pigeon folk, and I would- in all earnest- try to climb a tree.

Anyhow, I have never once seen a pigeon out for it's daily waddle and not gone, 'AWWWWWW FUCK YOU'RE SO FUCKING ADORABLE, HOLD STILL WHILE I PICK YOU UP AND GIVE YOU A SMOOSH. WHAT. WHY ARE YOU RUNNING AWAY????'

Or some such.

It's all nonsense, and apparently it's all mine.

Au revoir!

💕

"Just this once, can we climb up to the moon?"

Ameral looked over at the girl with the light blonde wispy hair, the pale green overcoat and black fluffy skirt, the glittery golden shoes, and the glazed doughnut in her hands, and she bit her lip.

Clover. She was everything Ameral had dreamed of. She was a thin slip of a girl, lost in some sort of dreamland or alternate reality; gazing off at something no one else could see, blinking rapidly or not at all, rushing past every time Ameral wanted to reach out and grab her.

Today, Ameral took a deep breath, steadied her shaking hands, and walked over to where Clover was frowning into her doughnut. She asked: "Are you going to eat that?"

Clover started, her hands jolting in that heart-stopping moment of uncertainty regarding the safety of her desired food. Ameral sighed. She was sorry she had come.

"Oh! Yes! I am!" Clover clenched down harder on the doughnut and looked up straight into Ameral's face. Ameral found herself staring into the bluest eyes she had ever seen.

Clover wondered how many calories this doughnut had, because it was glazed and also alarmingly large, and her stomach sank. That whole morning she had fantasised about eating a gigantic glazed doughnut, and now that she had one in her hands she found herself mulling over every reason not to.

"Are you going to eat that?" came a voice astoundingly close, and Clover looked up to see a strange girl staring down at her. Ameral. That's right... isn't it?

Clover could hardly be sure of her own memory these days. She had seen this girl in some of her classes, maybe art and history. Ameral was tall, thin, pale, her black hair cut in a jaggered shoulder-length bob, a thickly cut fringe, big brown eyes, and had a dark aura about her. Clover had always dreamed of asking this girl around to visit her Aunty Mirren who read people's auras, tea leaves, told fortunes, and practised what some would call 'The Dark Arts'. She could feel something heavy around Ameral, something almost twisted and angry.

"I mean, there's a bin right there," Ameral said, pointing to the rubbish can a few feet away.

"No, I'm eating it!" Clover said indignantly. 

"Ok."

Ameral kind of shrugged and Clover looked back at the doughnut. 

"Well, the glaze isn't real syrup anyway, is it?" she asked rhetorically to no one in particular. "It's mostly just a number, like 307 or E5, and they don't have any calories."

Ameral stared. Wasn't E5 a highway? Out loud she asked: "You're counting calories?"

A shifty, almost embarrassed, look came over Clover's face. Ameral shivered. "Well, no, I'm not," Cover said, but then added, "Well, I am. I'm trying to eat 300 calories a day."

"What! Three hundred calories!?" Ameral felt like grabbing her shoulders and shaking this ludicrous idea right out of her pretty little head.

Clover shrugged. "Why not?"

"God!" Ameral lifted a hand in a fit of outrage, Clover noticed, and before anyone could do anything about this atrocity, a boy called Norman ran past them both bumping into Clover who lurched forwards just as Ameral went to swipe the hideous doughnut out of Clover's hands.

Clover squealed. Norman cried "Sorry!" and laughed as he ran. Ameral ended up slapping Clover in the chest at the same time her doughnut flew up, as high as any doughnut had ever flown before, then fell to the ground, landing with a splatter.

"Shitdammitfuck!" Clover yelled.

"Fucking christ!" Ameral exclaimed, yanking her hand back as if touching a hot poker. 

"I wanted that all day!"

"Jesus," Ameral shoved both her hands into her skirt pockets. "Boys are dumb as fuck."

"So dumb. Why do they have to run around the place anyway?"

"There's more out there, you know," Ameral said with a tone of revealing a long-forgotten secret.

Clover looked up at her, still scowling, but with a little glint in her eyes. "I know, they sell them at PayLess."

Ameral took a breath and said in a rush, "Do you want to go to a cafe? With me?"

"Now?"

"No! Not now! After school."

"Oh..." Clover stared off into the distance, unblinking, as if searching for the answer there. Ameral felt her heart pound so loud and so fast it was as if it took up her whole rib-cage. She wished there was a speed button so she could turn it back to steady.

"Ok, sure," Clover said casually, and Ameral felt her world shift suddenly, and also fall into place.

Can I tell you a long-winded story?

One thing is certain when travelling to unknown places, and, indeed, life, and that is this: always take your own magick with you.
Yes! Your own!
And yes! With a k afterwards, because otherwise you're just taking along magic tricks, and who wants those?
~Exactly.

THINGS I AM DOING IN LIFE:
-- Eating iced-coffee timtams  ^__^

-- Growing calendula and other unknown flowers from seeds. > They are going really well so far, I have about 50 all growing, some bunched up with others that are doing HIGH BALL LIFE growth-wise, and others on their own as they had withered a bit and I believed it was due to fighting for nutrients among their bunch. Yesterday 6 whole unicorn paper cups full of dirt and growing seedlings fell from my windowsill. I managed to save most of them, however, it was a sad time in my flowering community, because, let's face it, while I haven't named them all yet, I still think of them as beings that require love and attention and proper sustenance and minimal traumatic experiences in their dainty, leafy, innocent plant lives. 

-- I was doing AMAZINGLY with my healthy eating/no junk/no dinner or heavy food in evening/lots of water lifestyle until a woman from work committed suicide and I found myself wandering the supermarket with an actual for real trolley putting in all these chips and chocolates and ice creams and forty dollars worth of yoghurts (which I did end up buying because yoghurt is life, people! Life!), and things just got out of hand.
> And I mean 'turning trolley around to put back two out of the five packets of timtams, seven different bars of chocolate, a box of ice creams, two out of four bags of chips, one packet of lollies, three out of four packets of specialty chocolates, and two boxes of packet mix cake' out of hand. Because I then purchased two packets of chips, one can of pringles, three different specialty chocolates, and three packets of timtams. I think a madness descends upon one who tires to comprehend a shocking death and that results in spacey moods, a live quick attitude, and a life motto based around 'Why Not?' and 'I need this to fill a hole'.

~And so... I really crave salty foods now.

-- Trying to get into a life routine. I have never had a life routine. For one thing, I work on a permanent-part time basis and because my work always needs shifts covered I tend to always get extra shifts. This mean I have never had the same paycheck, ever, in my life. And it's kind of annoying me lately. This also means that I once spent a whole hour painstakingly going over my permanent shifts to create a life roster of days I could gym it up, time of day I could shop, free mornings to craft or write or draw, etc, and it literally never happened.
> Extra shifts equal extra money, which is nice if I want to buy land and build a house, or travel to Japan, or just have nice clothes, but bad if I want to seize life now that I have actually experienced a suicide event and dreamt about crashing my car, making me think about my own mortality. I refuse to slog around for the 'man' just to wake up, go to work, make small conversation, pay my bills, pay my taxes, eat some form of cheapass food, and go back to bed, thinking: 'fuck yeah! I can make some jewellery tomorrow on my day off' only to look at my calendar and realise I accepted to work a double-shift two months ago and now I have no time to do washing or get my car serviced.

THIS BRINGS ME TO...
-- My Magickal Event.
Today my boyf and I went up to the hills to visit and great place which I will not name, but just know that it was a town of red/orange/yellow/green leaves because of Autumn, quaint cafes, old-style buildings, spontaneous occurrences, and eclectic shops that didn't seem to fit in with the modern fast pace life of this year. For instance, I tried to find a Roadside Assistance shop, and could not, therefore could not pay my bill, but I was comforted by the four op-shops available and went into every one.
THEN...
We happened to gaily pass another op shop with crystals and such out the front and I said 'LET'S DO THIS ONE! YOLO!' and I pushed open the door. I came face to face with the magickiest magickal shop ever to exist. The whole inside was overloaded with magickal jewellery, pendants, crystals, books, clothes, ornaments, and the smell of incense was HEAVENLY. I could literally feel my soul being cleansed at once.
As if in a trance I picked up a pot of Love and Intimacy body butter and paid 33 dollars. Anyone who knows me would gasp in horror! THIRTY THREE DOLLARYDOOS??? On BODY BUTTER??!!
Why not just grab an olive grove tub from the fridge and at your local PayLess and get down to business?
It's true, this was not my style, I was acting out and I was IN HEAVEN.
HEAVEN.
MAGICK.
INCENSE.
COLOURED LEAVES ALL AROUND.
HAVE WE NOT SPRUNG RIGHT INTO WONDERLAND WHERE THE ESSENCE OF SOUL-CLEANSING SERUM CAN BE POURED RIGHT INTO ONE'S SOUL IF ONLY ONE WOULD ENTER THE RIGHT PLACE?? ENTER IT! AND JOURNEY DOWN A PATH OF MYSTIC AND SUPER COLD FINGERS.
It was insanely cold out there today.

Ok! So that brings this blog up to speed with my newfound plans to one day open a magick shop full of my own healing balms and lotions, crystals, clothes made by hand, jewellery, possibly even coffee and health foods- so much to think about and so little coffee with which to spur me on...

I spent the whole car ride home squealing with laughter, as Bae was being exceptionally funny for no reason. Example: *driving up to traffic lights. Lights change. Bae 'of course they turn orange'. Me 'SQUEAL'... then 'What colour should they change to?' Bae 'green'. Me 'SQUEAL SQUEAL SQUEAL SQUEAL'. And much of the same.

It was a delight and all round enlightening trip.


*~~ I hope all of you are having extremely spectacular times in life. Don't take it too seriously, just take it to lunch!

💖

Are you watching that?

Josephine's real name was Amarin Twenst but she had changed it the day she met Merceline at the bus stop on a cloudy winter's morning at approximately 9.47.

Merceline was everything Amarin wasn't. She was organised, for a start. 

"What a cold wet day today huh!" Amarin exclaimed loudly as she plonked herself down next to a very straight, very thin elderly woman wearing a long crisp red coat that bunched in at the waist giving her a look of French fashion know-how and high dark green boots. 

Amarin breathed in sharply as she took in Merceline's dress, and she felt something drop deep down into an unused space that had long ago held ambition mixed with sparks of energy. Like a penny falling through the opening of a glass jar full of cobwebs.

Merceline gave a small smile and said, "Indeed."

Suddenly, Amarin felt rather small, like a baby pine cone, so she waved her arm around her in a wide gesture and asked, "Where do you live then?! Far from here?"

Merceline looked at her with raised eyebrows and a bit of a smirk. "I live down there," she pointed to the right, and Amarin said quickly, "Oh me too!" even though she didn't.

"Have you also experienced that awful mailboy?" Merceline asked with distaste.

"Oh! I have!"

"Have you really, well he is just god awful. Throws my papers into the puddles and expects me to pick them up. Me! I pay my taxes! I expunged four children! Didn't I!"

"Did you?" Amarin asked in alarm. She had no idea what 'expunged' meant, but could only guess it was something foul. Her pulse quickened. Murder, she thought.

"This is the thanks I receive! Letting my hard earned catalogues air out for days on my dish rack, unable to complete my dishwashing, unable to buy anything within sale times... good for nothing hooligans!" Merceline looked like she was about to raise her arm in a shake of protest, but caught herself just in time.

"Oh yes," Amarin heard herself say, as her heart continued to beat as loud as a drummer-boy playing right next to her ear, "Oh, I have that trouble all the time!"

"Isn't it the crows feet?"

"Crows feet?"

"Yes, exactly."

"Well-"

"And what are you doing today that you must catch a bus for?" Merceline leaned in a little closer with a friendlier, wider smile, her silver-streaked dark hair catching the little sun that was glimmering through the clouds.

"Oh, well, umm..." Amarin wondered if she should say that she was, in fact, going out to buy ham and bread rolls for lunch to commemorate her husband's fourth year dead, because she'd rather eat his favourite meal in front of the tv than sit at a grave while it rained on her tatty raincoat as she described to his headstone how she was going to eat his favourite meal, but she suddenly had a lot of things to consider. Firstly: was this woman a child-killing lunatic who needed locking up? Secondly: the woman's boots and coat made her undeniably self-conscious about her own bright pink blouse and tie-dye skirt that reached her ankles. Thirdly: how exactly did this woman manage to curl her hair and then also pin each curl to her head as if dressing up for some kind of old-fashioned play? Amarin was dying to know so she, too, could disguise her own grey hair in a sheer blanket of elegance. 

"Is it that complicated?" Merceline asked in horror.

"Oh, no! It's just, I- I'm going to mourn my late husband and wa-" 

"Good heavens!" Merceline cried. "What are you doing in that outfit?! You don't wear pink and hippy drag to a mourning! It's not on! I'll show you, come on." 

Merceline stood up and beckoned Amarin to do the same. "Oh my! That is, if you'd take my assistance?" she peered down at Amarin in a concerned, faintly motherly, way, and Amarin was lost for words. Her fingers unconsciously pulled at her skirt while she had visions of herself and this well-dressed woman walking around the gardens picking flowers, having high-tea in a country club where everything was white and floral, sharing a laugh while walking this woman's two well-behaved dogs, and chattering over a roast dinner about the rude young boys of the newer century.

"Of course you ca-" she started but Merceline cut over her.

"Of course I must! How would you refuse such a request? Come along, I'll straighten you out, come on..."

Amarin stood up and swung her handbag over her shoulder as Merceline stuck out her hand in the most daintiest gesture Amarin had ever seen. She supposed her skin felt soft, smooth, and supple, like a baby's talcumed bottom. 

"How rude of me, I haven't introduced myself. My name is Merceline."

"Hello, I'm... I'm- uh, well, my name is... Josephine. Yes, my name is Josephine." The rush Amarin felt was probably akin to doing ecstasy, she supposed as she had never tried. It felt pure and simple. And also like fireworks going off. 

"Oh, wait I'm sorry! Why were you catching the bus? I'm taking you away from your plans."

"Me?" Merceline laughed. "Oh, I was just going to the casino!"

How long must I keep saving you?

Burgoise staggered up clutching the stick. In the distance she could see two people at the opposite sides of her vision moving towards each other.

The sky cracked. Clouds seemed to gather above her: grey and full of misery.

Burgoise squinted. The two figures kept walking in such a slow, steady fashion, that Burgoise fancied they had planned this. Am I in a play? she wondered, looking around wildly. No cameramen in tight pants wearing over-sized sunglasses while eating sandwiches, no light stands, no props of any kind. Just the thick prickly grass of this field, spanning out as far as Burgoise could see, trees lining the edges, the two figures moving like slinking cats against the dull backdrop. Why are they here?

She squinted harder. She had a funny feeling brewing in her gut. Something was wrong. The figure on her right looked like a girl wearing a long dress, her hair blowing out around her. She was holding something. The figure on her left looked masculine, wearing pants, some sort of top, short hair that was also fluttering in the wind.

Burgoise leaned forwards. There was something about that fluttering hair...

Burgoise's heard dropped right to the center of the earth, It started to rain. She gasped. They finally met, embraced.

"No!"

The stick fell from her hand as she stepped back, her eyes wide, her hands shaking, her heart pumping insanely loud somewhere next to her ears.

Rain drops fell silently in front of her face as if instructed. As if trying to dampen this mutiny by washing it away or packing it down.

"Clae..." Burgoise breathed, hardly daring to look but unable to tear her eyes away.

There he was, like a silhouette on a stage, kissing another girl.

"Oh no, no, no... no..."

She couldn't see it, but Burgoise thought she could make out laughter. The rain was so heavy on her face. Or was that tears?

The figures moved apart, Burgoise found herself leaning forwards once again, thunder crackled, there was a thin vein of lightning that illuminated the horrendous sight before her and she saw clearly the two figures who were smiling at each other. Clae and Mira.

Mira. The girl who had pushed her into the toilets and forced her to eat a rotten orange. The girl who had stolen her gym shoes, her pens, her mobile phone, and her sister's necklace, wrecked them all, then left them for Burgoise to find in her locker. The girl who had broken her nose with a soccer ball to the face, trailed a Bunsen burner flame down her arm, pushed her into a rose bush, cut a giant Nazi symbol into her only jumper, and set her backpack on fire as she walked home.

And Clae.

Clae. The Clae with whom she had bought ice cream and strolled along the pier, laughing at seagulls and kicking shells into the ocean. The Clae who had picked her right up and hoisted her over the log fence as if she was a bag of carrots. The Clae who had kissed her, once under a blossom tree and once outside the music classroom, as if she was the only one worth kissing, ever.

Another crack of thunder. The rain suddenly came down in earnest, much like how Burgoise supposed she must look. Torn down her chest and pouring out all her blood at once.

She could barely see anymore. A rage wild and ragged ravaged her entire body, rage as white as an after-spot from looking into the sun and as hot as a pot full of boiling caramel. It shot up into her shoulders, her brain, down into her fingers. She tilted a little to the right.

She opened her mouth and screamed. At the very same time, thunder grumbled overhead in a continuous melody, lightning streaked all over the sky in violent bursts, and sparks shot out of Burgoise's open hands like fireworks.

Trade you my knee bone for your Kingdom?

She came out of the woods like a disease: slow, unnoticed, and craving attention. By the time Celeste turned around with a slight feeling of unease, the woman was right behind her, half-closed eyes the colour of red-gum wood, wild green hair like mossy fern sprouting out from her scalp and falling down to her waist, and smooth, pale fingers flashing gemstone rings as they moved precariously in time with the wind.
"I didn't do it!" Celeste cried out horribly.
The woman closed her eyes and said softly, "They must not meet again. It has been foretold... of great..."
Celeste felt rage bubble up in her stomach. How dare this old hag seek her out here, in her secret spot, and demand things.
"I will not!" she shouted.
"There is no other way..."
"Leave me alone!" she took a step back and stumbled as her heel hit a root. Fuck the roots, Celeste thought angrily, the words flashing in her mind like a neon sign. Her bum hit the muddy ground. Fuck this bitch!
The wild woman gazed down at her with an expression of inhumane quality. Celeste could not make it out, but it fueled her rage further. She's just too green, Celeste wailed inside her head, too green to be human... She gasped out-loud. "YOU'RE AN ALIEN!" she screamed, pointing a finger.
The woman leaned forward and reached out a hand. "Only you can light the path..."
Celeste stared. No, this bitch glittered like Bucky- she wasn't an alien. The sunbeams poking their way through the gloomy overcast afternoon bounced off her hand, lighting it up like she had painstakingly glued a million sparkly stick-on diamonds all over her skin on a boring winter's day, and Celeste suddenly felt true fear.
She scrambled up, knocking the woman's hand away. There was a small zap upon contact as if Celeste had touched an electrical socket. The woman withdrew.
"You're a goddess," Celeste spat.
The woman drew  herself up, "I am a-"
"You're all the same!" Celeste shouted. "Stay away from me! And leave Fern alone!"
She turned and ran, glancing back only once to see the woman standing in the same spot, glaring, shoulders hunched, a darkness gathering about her that Celeste could not see but knew to be there. As Celeste looked up at her face, the woman's eyes flashed. Pain seared up her right arm. She stumbled, slipped on the mud, but kept running. She knew she couldn't outrun a Goddess, she had no magick yet, so she clutched her crystals tight and prayed for a miracle.

When will dinner ever be ready?

You know what?
I've been perusing Pinterest like a love-sick stalking mofo slash drug-addict ~c r a v i n g~ their next fix, and I have come to realise that my view of Alyssa, Frances, and Cate is bleak, dark, depressing, not to mention awkward and hollow. Like, do they not have good characteristics? I MUST dive really deep into their situations, I just must, because without focusing entirely on their whole beings I will never truly feel comfortable writing about them.
Are you supposed to feel comfortable writing, though? Surely whilst writing a mammoth of a novel you would feel all sorts of emotions and uncomfortable is one of them. However, I feel that you should at least be comfortable with your characters, at least comfortable because you know them inside out so writing them is not such a challenge, compared with writing about what they do.
If I know my character is a dick, fine, but I know that so it flows. Alternatively, are characters able to surprise you by doing something sinister or becoming someone sinful, and does this not, then, make you uncomfortable?
Ok! Enough with writing the word uncomfortable! For some reason I have spelled it wrong every single time.

Maybe so, and maybe not. The fact is: maybe my novel will actually have some really lovely bits in it that will make it a pleasure to write and not so cringe worthy to read.

I do believe that if one always goes around creased, unkempt, and with stains, that person will then acquire a life that is so. Therefore, the action of sweeping oneself, checking the mirror, attending to disarray when it should unfold- because it will such as life itself does!- would be the upmost importance and required at all times!

And a good day to you! Sir!

Holy crap the smell of food cooking is the BEST. FUCK YES. GIVE ME ALL THE FOOD. I AM AS HUNGRY AS A HALF STARVED GIANT.

~ This has been an update of the Novel Kind. Will Cerri ever continue with her random short stories? Is Avalon still part of her life, or has she been cast away in a fit of fuzzy minded blasphemy? Has Vincent found his true self, or is he stark raving mad as well as stark raving naked? Stay tuned! For more nonsensical nonsense..

How did you know it was your last?

TIDBITS
Being the cheapass woman that I currently am, I have not had and still do not have any desire to go back out into the big wide world to purchase the microsoft office package once again. That shiz is about one hundred dollars that I do not have on account of paying a mortgage and also moving house. Yes! I'm doing the delightfully fantastically thing that is moving all my possessions from one side of the city to the other. The Joy!
But it really is a joy. This new house is always slightly warm, which I'm hoping will be amazeballs in winter, but for now it just means that I wear hardly any clothes and try not to sweat out all the nutrients I put in.
And this carpet is THE BEST THING since sliced bread, and WE ALL KNOW how versed I am on the subject of bread. Peace. Love. Light be with you.

Ok. So there's the Word problem. How do I go about writing out the stories and ideas that I do not want published on here without actually buying Word, or slaving away at the public library, where privacy is nil and the computers are as slow as they were when dial-up was a thing?
Why, pen and paper of course!
Pfftt! Wrong! I can tell you now that my handwriting is so atrocious I should have been a doctor, in fact, I may actually still have time to study and graduate and do the whole lounging back on the office chair with a stethoscope around my neck and say things like 'the test results were inconclusive' and 'the bathroom is just down the hall, only half of the cup needs to be filled', while gazing serenely over my steeple fingers or gesturing calmly to the door with a bowed head.
It's not the path I chose, but it is the path that I can and probably should not fill. I am grey enough already.
Not to mention the cramp-hand I would get from all that writing. Weeks down the line I will squint at my notes in a fit of despair, scratch my head, and most likely toss a million dollar idea down the drain.

@__@

Yes! Apart from using my failing ipad that has a keyboard setup akin to a sensation of dragging your fingernails down a chalkboard or rowing a canoe while scraping your knuckles on the hard edge every time, I have decided to use this blog as a way to calm my swelling tide.

Without further ado! I present...

THE NOVEL
It's been 12 years since I lugged this folder around with me to math class and science class. I'm sure my classmates thought I was super studious, but the fact was I just hid my pages of novel notes on graph paper, and I LOVED it. I simply adored carrying this folder class to class with ideas swirling around in my head like a melting rainbow paddlepop. I felt like this folder contained my life work and I never imagined for one second that I would leave it on a shelf for TWELVE YEARS.
I'm almost (almost huehue) heartbroken and deeply ashamed.

In the sleeve of this folder contains pain sample cards, really old, from a paint shop, with names like: Pink Orbit MID
Orange Fizz W
Ice Needles
Peach Portion
Candy Time
Rose Relic

I fancied I would incorporate those names into the novel. I believe Peach portion, candy time and rose relic all relate to one of my characters called Rose.

CHARACTERS
My favourite character and one featured in many short draft stories is Eden. I love the name and her theme is Faeries. She is obsessed with them. I feel like I based her on myself, and that she is maybe particularly easy to write, or was easy to write back in the day.

Next is Brandi- the girl obsessed with becoming a Water Goddess. She meets a gnome when little (a real-live tall man who looks gnomish or otherworldly who says he comes from the caves) and he promises to turn her into a water goddess if she commits a real act of sin. It's horrendous, but she is in the right frame of mind to do so. Things become really tricky and nasty afterwards. I enjoyed her as well because she had more going on. Eden was perhaps a little boring as a character, even though she has a lot of elements I like, but Brandi has this cool plot and twists, darkness, a real fine detail to her. She meets Eden when they share a class together and they both sort of faun over each other. It's very cute.

Alyssa and her younger sister Frances are both witches, or really into witchcraft. They start off with some amateur spells from books and do some rituals, but soon they notice things happening and I must say, their story is the darkest of them all. I shy away from writing about them because I don't fully understand them. As a result of a family tragedy, they have their younger cousin Cate, who is about Frances's age, come and stay with them so the girls get her in on it, too. Their story saddens me. I think it's going to be the toughest emotionally to write.

Last is Rose! Rose is the fun one. She has the misfortune of becoming cupid, or the messenger in which love can travel through. Rose must run all over the place creating love and magic, while trying to sort out her own life. Her story is chaos, and I have a hard time getting it together. I have elements I like but they all seem to be different, which makes it hard to flesh out an actual character and situation without it seeming childish or silly. Cupid, love, and potions are tricky because it can go one way or the other. Also, Rose is about three or four years older than the others. She doesn't have the dominating figure of parents, so I have to be mindful of that and hopefully some of the scenarios show her maturity.

So there is the faery, the witch, the cupid, and the goddess.

All of them interweave. The younger girls all go to the same school, and Eden and Brandi meet and become friends, the other girls notice each other in a 'background character' way. Rose is the only girl not in school. I envisioned a scene where they're all on a train and they all unite when it crashes or something, but that was around the time I stopped writing to focus on my 'real world goals' of getting a job and being a normal woman of society. Life gets in the way.

Aside from that! It's all running on a shell of a novel. The outer structure is there in place, I have the colours, the general gist, the beginnings and the endings, I just need to fill it all in.

>I admit, I feel quite anxious about writing due to the fact I have matured over the years. A decade has passed, I have new memories and experiences, and even though I have not changed much in appearance or character, I feel like this novel represents an age-old me with a naivety and ideas that will be hard to replicate.

In essence, I feel a bit boring. When I first looked at this novel a couple of months ago I became overwhelmed with nostalgia. Life is better for me now but in every character I saw pieces of myself or my life back then.



~
We're going home

If we make it or we don't
we won't be alone

When I see your light shine I know I'm home

*💝*

But where would I get one?

Today I woke up rather abruptly with thoughts of chocolate, coffee, and cats.
Coincidentally that is the name of my second novel. I know! How will I ever have the time to complete two novels by my 40th Birthday?
Well.
I'll actually have quite a few years to play around with it all, but still. Also, the novel title has the word 'coincidentally' in it instead of chocolate and it's just a really fun project to work on but I feel a foreboding sense of doom as well, because a thing cannot be too fun if it is to be taken seriously.

The other day I bought a can of corn and was, like, SUPER excited to use it in some pasta. Like, stop the clocks now, or just wind them forward to when it's pasta-eatn time, because I wanna chow on this delight stat.
It's like going to bed feeling really excited and content at waking up in the morning because coffee. Coffee is everything.
Sometimes I'm annoyed or scared to go to sleep because it's such a short amount of time that it seems wasteful. It seems to be over in a flash. And yet you're at your most vulnerable, so many things can happen, so many opportunities for disaster that it's almost the worst thing you can do.

So fast-forward a few weeks later when I was singing a tune of rainbows and adorable parakeets, just standing in the kitchen ready for some corn time, and what should happen? I put my finger in the ring-pull, peel off the ring-pull and need to then use a manual can-opener, only to discover that my corn kernels are INDEED, corn of the cream kind. I had inadvertently picked up Creamed Corn. Corn of the Cream. Creme a la Corn.
And I WEPT into my canned abomination.
Or did I?

Cream Corn is not a great product. The world could have done a better job handing out food varieties than creaming a vegetable that has no right to be creamed.
A fellow named Caspian who is always full of congestion is the only person who should be trusted with the job of farming, picking, canning, labeling, stacking, delivering, and even consuming this product.
"It's all I've ever known!" Caspian would say earnestly- a little too earnestly, if you ask me. The world does not need such earnest people. The world needs more deceivers, more unwilling participants, more people rising up to declare FUCK YOU AUTHORITY! WE DESIRE UNCANNED FOOD, FOR WE ARE UNCANNED PEOPLE.
Right they are.
Caspian would look shocked, and I would lean in close and mutter, 'Fellow, if there were ever such a time that an escape was to take place, now would be that time.'

And we would escape, me taking Caspian into the wide world of the City and Caspian showing me how to make a daisy chain that I have NO time for, but patiently sit through anyhow. He will no doubt show the classic signs of corn withdrawal, and I will be made to hand over my hard earned pennies so that his appetite can be sated, all the while eating an increasing number of red and orange foods. In the end, I will cut Caspian loose because the price of having him near has made me extremely adverse to any yellow food of any kind, including banana caramel pie and rainbow sprinkles. Not to mention the insane build up of mucus in my sinus region. I have never known anyone to need six boxes of tissues in the bedroom. EVER.


   ( )
  (   )
,\(   )/,
0 __ 0     # more than corn

Was it getting real?

Yes!

Life is all about being crazy and taking chances.

You must do what you fear. Do what you dream. Look ambition straight in the eye and say "I am coming for you."

Then stop off at the local bakery and buy a double-decker chocolate cream cake because life is hard balls with a LOT of curved ones.

You must Take The Chance and do The Thing!

What do you dream of doing?

I dream of one day building a house. From scratch! I want to see the concrete slab with my own two eyes and walk across it in a walk only those who dared to make their dream come true can do. I want to see the sweat, feel the sawdust, hear the hammers, taste the tears, be victorious! I want to watch a door being put in, and narrow my eyes in a suspicious fashion because that window looks a bit too big guys, who's in charge of the window fitting??? Let's get the sizing done, ok, I want numbers and I want shinyass glass that makes me squint in surprise and awe and wonder.

I dream of working on my dusty old novel. Raising chickens. Making Amigurumi. Sewing, knitting, drawing with a light table... actually being that artistic mofo I see in the mirror. 

What if there were hidden cities all around us just waiting to be tapped into?

We must uncover the magic all around us because soon the time will be gone, and we will be gone, but no matter! Someone else will come and do the uncovering, for there will always be secret worlds existing around us.

Isn't that creepy af though?

Where I am sitting now, in my bed with the window open, someone else could be walking to that exact window this exact moment and closing it. Or maybe we both stood in the same place at the same time and I opened it while they closed it. But I didn't notice a thing. Am I out of touch or just not in tune with the layers upon layers of worlds that overlap ours?

What if when you hear a baby crying while having a shower, there actually is a baby crying in the other plane, and your maternal instincts kick in or moral instincts/good Samaritan/decent human-being/ tuned-in-aura is in full ON mode?

Like sometimes if everything is quiet in the house, I swear I can hear mumbled talking as if the tv in the other room was on. But it's not. Is it my hearing, or something better?

Do we not make spontaneous occurrences, believe in serendipity or fate and good luck? Nearly everyone believes there is something going on around us, either through God, or the universe, or spirits, fairies, aliens, and there are miracles happening everyday, tragedies ripping our responses right out of our bodies, delights and things being created that were thought impossibles, daring theories proved right, normalities proved wrong, all around us all the time we hear of things changing. What is extraordinary if not something entirely ordinary that no one ever thought of, was, did, discover, or invent before?

All I am saying is: I went for a walk the other day and I realised how plugged in everything is.

So I am going to build my house.

I am going to C L I M B out of this sinkhole I have somehow crawled into, and I will throw my magick in everyone's faces  wake up  because life is about cats and shawls and glittery balls and falling asleep with hot cocoa instead of trepidation and coffee in cafes and running for the bus and trying not to lose that sudoku book with all those personal notes written down the sides  since when did I *learn* to fear almost every single thing I see?

Just you wait

# A tribute to a very special time in my life. Bittersweet is not just a persimmon. 💘💞

Egg shells or custard tarts?

On Tuesday I thought I was a ghost.

I drove to work like normal, but when I turned down the street to work, I thought 'is this how it always is?' 

The air seemed foggy and I had a weird sensation as if I was the only person alive in some kind of different plane. Everything was quiet. Eerie.

And when I arrived at work, the woman who is ALWAYS parked in the SAME PARK wasn't there. I checked my phone. Same time as always. Or was it?

I hurried inside, made my coffee, cursed the early morning once again because, really, why do shifts start at 6am? What is the actual purpose? As a form of torture, I'm sure.

SO, the rest of the day went as smooth as the only type of peanut butter allowed, except that almost every conversation I had seemed to operate as if I was either too fast or they were too slow. As if the recipients were receiving information from the other side and there was a delay in delivery.

Example:

Woman: 'Hey, Cerri, how are you?"

Me: 'Yeah not bad, you?'

Woman: 'How's your day going?'

Me: 'Oh not bad, and-'

Woman: 'I'm good thanks'

Me: 'Oh, sorry aha-'

Woman: 'No go on, sorry-'

Me: 'Oh! I just noticed that there's a new pink car today, and I was wondering who's it was, it's very bright.'

Woman: 'Tell me about it.'

Pause. Woman wrings out a mop.

Me: 'Well, must get my stores, have a good day! It's-'

Woman: 'You too-'

Me: 'It's hectic-'

Woman: '- have a good day.'

Me: 'Thanks!'

Woman: 'Oh, you saw that pink car, too, I wonder if so and so bought a new one?'

~

And much of the same. This made me assume, once again, that I was somehow only existing as half a person. Maybe something glitched while I was sleeping? Or I had walked through a fairy veil from the front door to my car?

This new neighbourhood is certainly magically quaint. There's always a bird chirping, a group of birds splashing about and fluffing around a puddle, fat birds waddling around not pecking at the grass because who can be fucked bending down so low? There's cute little red-brick houses, and lots of trees with flowers that fall onto the cars. The grass is green, children laugh and wail every hour, and there seems to be a lot of homeyness going on.

I have to wonder sometimes. And to the faeries with their veil strung up in such a common, highly used area, I say: welcome. What took you so long?

     .^.

   ../  \..

*U__U

Well who could blame you?

Tasco and Tabosca were out on their morning stroll. It was, indeed, a fine day to be out strolling. Perhaps this had something to do with their reason for going, or perhaps it had more to do with the fact that Tasco had lost his fathers round toilet roll holder in the woods and had been afraid that he would be requested to make another by hand. But whatever the reason, the two brothers were out in the bright sunshine, squinting awkwardly, stepping gingerly, entirely unused to the treacherous ways of twig, branch, and insect.
"There is not a day goes by where you don't use fathers toilet roll holder as a toy," Tabosca sighed, swiping at another thorny branch with sluggish anger. He had been out for three hours now, and there had been no fountain of youth (that Toasco had promised they'd find), nor any bathing naked women standing in front of waterfalls.
"Why should father have his own toilet holder?" Tasco asked sullenly. He, too, had wanted to come across the fountain of youth by now (even though he made it up).
"That's the order of life," Tabosca said simply.
They both ducked under a rather fat branch and raised their legs high to leap lightly over another on the ground.
"Hey Tasco look!" Tabosca cried suddenly in a voice that could only signal danger.
"What!" Tasco squealed, stopping dead.
Tabosca pointed a little way ahead where the dense trees cleared to make a small round circle of tranquility. In this tranquil space, there lay a man who appeared to be moving slowly and moaning.
"Hey!" called Tabosca. "You there!"
"Shhh! Tabosca!" Tasco squeaked. He reached for his older brothers arm, but Tabosca practically tripped over himself as he hurried over.
"Are you alright?" he asked the man.
The man groaned. "I've been shot," he said weakly.
"Shot? Have you really?"
Tasco inched closer and peered down at the small man who was wearing a grey shirt with sleeves, brown leggings,, and a pointy purple hat, and saw what looked like a purple crystal stuck in his chest.
"Is-I- is that... is that in your skin?" Tasco whispered, immediately twitching in horror.
"I doubt that!" Tabosca laughed heartily for a good few seconds, while the stranger wriggled about. "There's no such thing as a crystal in someone, Tasco. You haven't read all of fathers encyclopedias yet have you?"
Tasco frowned at his brothers almighty expression. It was one of extreme goodwill and happiness, neither of which belonged in this situation.
"Excuse me!" cried the man. The brothers jumped. "Did any of you happen to see that hag of a witch who lured me to my doom?"
The brothers shook their heads.
"What do you mean 'witch'?" Tabosca asked tentatively. He had read all of his fathers encyclopedias, but could not remember anything about a witch.
"Foul creature!" the man spat. He dragged himself into a sitting position with a cry of anguish and the purple crystal came into the light like a slap to the face. It was bright, big, and overly sharp to the point of being non-existent. Tasco stared and Tabosca moved about uncomfortably.
"Hello there!" the man said, looking up at them with bright eyes. He stuck out his hand. "I'm Ambrant Elysuifus. I make clothes."
"Fine clothes indeed," said Tabosca as he shook Ambrants hand somewhat slowly and with absolute care. He wasn't sure if Ambrants fingers were also made of crystal and there just was no way of politely asking.
"Did you make that top?" Tasco asked quietly. He hardly believed Ambrant was alive, what with all the blood on his clothes around the crystal.
"I surely did," Ambrant said smugly. He looked down and pinched the fabric. Then let out a mighty roar.
Tasco screamed and fell backwards. Tabosca shrieked, "God almighty!" and flung one arm up into the air.
"MY TUNIC! THAT STENCH OF A WOMAN!"
Ambrant scrambled up, with such movements that made him look like he was on a slab of ice. Tabosca asked: "Are you ok?"
Tasco scuttled over to a tree and shrunk down as small as he could, for fear that this man had magical powers in the hexing and cursing variety.
"SHE STOLE MY TUNIC AND THEN HAD THE AUDACIOUS OF NERVES TO STICK THIS THING BACK INSIDE MY BODY!"
"Twice?!" Tasco squealed.
"I'm sorry, but-" started Tabosca, but Ambrant began tugging at the crystal in a fit of rage.
"SHE THINKS SHE CAN CONTROL ME? I AM MIGHTY AND HORRID! I WILL CONTROL HER AOOWWWWWWWWWW...!" his hands slid over the crystal and right off the end where blood began to drip from his fingertips.
"Oh my heavens," Tabosca blanched.
"WRETCHED FENCH WENCH SKENCH!"
"Oh my god it's a curse!" Tasco closed his eyes.
"THERE WILL BE NO MERCYYYYYYY!" Ambrant screamed up into the sky. Then he blinked, looked around at the horribly pale and terrified boys, and said calmly and quiet unlike five seconds ago: "But I protest. How am I to have revenge without first acquainting myself with friends. We must enjoy fine delicacies!"
He waved his hands and said a few words that neither boy understood but had all heard separately at some point in their lives, and then a giant table appeared clothed in royal fabric, carrying colourful baked goods and enticing goblets of fruity mead.
The brothers beamed.

Are you trying to Zen?

~MONTH IN REFLECTION~

January has actually been quite unsettling in a number of ways, all of which are irrelevant and impossibly boring, so I will forget them!
Hurrah!
But also- you know what, January has been unsettling as crap. And it's all those little bits that roll into a massive ball, and then the ball rolls down the street behind you while you're trying to zen out on your ipod with your twenty dollar kmart runners on and your tight-as-fuck leggings clinging to your (immaculately) sweaty legs like that Lycra stuff- making you self conscious As Fuck- and just rolls and rolls and rolls, each step collecting a wayward spider, a wrinkly leaf, a ducktonne of dust, two hours of your time, every good thought you ever had in the space of forty four minutes, important legal papers, pieces of your outward projection of your inner self (which is not pretty, I can tell you), liquids that you were just about to consume, the very sleep cycle you rely on. And! If that weren't enough, It also rolls YOU into the ball as well (GROSS) (but plausible, and would be highly likely to feature in a documentary about my life), flinging you every-witch-way until your brain seems to be dripping out of your nose, or is that just snot? WHO KNOWS?! And there is this sequence of events that happen in this order every time: 1. Oh! That's what I have to do... 2. DUCK IT, what the MUCKSUCK is this doing here? 3. Damn it to hell, now I have to carry out this freakin task... 4. Well, I've done about as much as an older, wiser, prettier version of myself can nowadays handle, might as well check the ol interwebs for the relax I deserve... 5. ... aaaaaaand that's a whole five hours of my day and life I'll never get back.
Rinse.
Caffeinate.
Repeat.

It is a mess. But you know, every day it is getting sorted. The sludge is clearing, the debris sweeping, the age-old nonsense of keeping every single thing because maybe has somehow melted away, and order is restoring itself in that nice, neat way that order is associated with.
Holy FUCK I am dying for a coffee.
What the frick frack.
You know how you sometimes suddenly crave some taste really strong, as if the taste punched you in the buds? Well I have it. And it is coffee, which I shall not have because it's almost ten pm.
Dammit to fuck I want the coffee hella bad. So bad I believe I just experienced a sadness cramp because of.

My grateful list henceforth!

1. Myself. The end. Go home. Goodnight. ^____^
I am grateful for myself, I'm hardcore as all shit. I completed the one and only goal I ever had, which was buy a house. I have that little 'good for you!' voice inside my head. And you guys can have it, too! ALL I DID to achieve my goal was work out the exact steps I needed to take to get me there and then I took them. I broke off chunks and worked with that, one at a time.
~In relation to saving for a house, I saved 60-80% of my paycheck- as I was living with my parents- until I moved out, where I scrimped and saved and rarely bought clothes, went out for drinks on the town, spent money on trinkets, holidays, entertainment or other things. I still have a pair of track pants with holes the size of an egg on both buttocks because I used them that much, I wore my shoes until they physically were unable to be worn anymore- I even duct-taped my favourite pair of red slippers together and I still have them- and I accepted clothes from friends if they were throwing them out, consequently never really developing my own style.
I bought one or two finance books and borrowed the rest from the library, read the exact requirements for buying property in my country, fainted at the actual cost of things, downed a strong motha of a coffee, and worked with it. Calculated figures and etc, planned time-frames, and even though it all looked very hard, very time-consuming, and entirely unrealistic on my part-time low income wage, I just started and I kept at it.

~~The secret to all things is just keeping at it. Performing the right habits daily create successful people, and that's really all I did.

Sacrificed, saved, and kept visualising my goal. I cut out a picture of a house from a magazine, wrote 'I will get it', and stuck it in my wallet. It's really faded now, but I still have it.
~~~ The ONE thing that kept me on track was my burning desire to do it. Nothing will help you as much as the WILL to WANT to. And the fact that the house we were in was shitasfuck, with mould everywhere, framework falling apart, plumbing breaking down all the time, one room leaking buckets of water EVERY winter. So I had motivation, a burning desire, and determination to succeed. One of the main things I read about in that 'The Secret' book is not doubting your wish will happen. I had absolutely no doubt, as weird as it sounds, because I was doing everything on my end to make it happen. People go 'yeah right as if' and they tackle something without that absolution, therefore they only put maybe 50-79% of themselves in it, and it either doesn't work or it comes out dodgy.
DO NOT DO THE DODGY WAY. IT JUST SUCKS.
Amen.
Live it guys, you will all do amazing.

2. The people in my life. I love ALL OF YOU GUYS. Not the strangers, like if anyone really is reading this little ol bloggeroo, well thank you, and hope you find it somewhat decipherable, but not you guys because we haven't even met. Give it time.
I'm talking about my good friends and the people I know. There are many a peeps who have entered my life, and just kept walking, to exit at the side, and I tip my hat with a farewell and a 'how did that stain get there?' kind of expression (my hats aint what they used to be). It has been an almost flirtingly brief encounter and may we have the pleasure again.
But then there are the people who really come into your life and they punch your arm, or give you food, or make you laugh, mop your floor, tell you a secret, fix a lamp, do The Sex. And those people are the truest.
Bless all of you. In that non-christian-and-even-non-religious-of-any-way-because-CHRIST-this-will-most-definitely-probably-offend-at-least-one-person-reading. I just feel very honoured and blessed to be in everyone's lives HOLY CRAP IS THAT A GIANT WALKING- no it's just my housemate. I guess I'm not used to the sound of walking. OK THEN.

3. MY PETERBAE. CAPITALS. ALL THE WAY. Bro, how would I be. Not to mention that the fun times are very fun indeed.
Winkle.
I'm very thankful I never dated a fuckboy. That's for certain. Those are the worst. Let me tell you a thing: girls and women like the idea of a fuckboy, who is basically a dick to people, maybe a real badass, rides a motorcyle, wears leather, has a chain, lets his nails grow long, says 'I gotta gets me a milkshake', leans on walls instead of standing, and walks in a strut.
I say: exactly how hard is it to stand up on your own? Has your back malfunctioned? Do you need help? Maybe a masseuse??
What women and girls actually want in the realest is a badass fuckboy who is badass to the world, but treats them like a Queen. Ask them questions about their dress, bring flowers when you meet, comb your hair, smile at passing cows, always carry a Kleenex and some breath mints, never take your shoes off or put them on in her presence.
Demand to carry her over puddles, and perhaps even lug around a 10 meter royal blue mat to roll out whenever there is a chance of getting her shoes dirty. These are the things women want.
OR MAYBE THEY WOULN'T.
I DON'T ACTUALLY KNOW.

~ All I'm saying is, I'm not the swooning type, but I have swooned, swooning is happening, there is a general airy feel about my person of some such swooning and I am ok with that because some people are worth swooning over.
Like hazlenut praline chocolate.


Well! I started off this blog with intent to write a list of things I am grateful for, for some UNKNOWN reason, because I was in a really grateful gushy mood, but now I'm tired like a sloth on NyQuil so I will wrap this up by saying that I am doing REALLY WELL with my no junk food eating this month. I've only purchased three junk food items and am sticking hard and fast to the 'eat the sweet if you didn't pay for it'. It's working out a treat. HUEHUEHUE.
Yes.
Ok.

~Tootleoo
 

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