I wonder
when you look at me
if you can see it --
My fractured sense of self,
the remnants of my own personality,
the cemetery of memories
marking a time when I was nothing but
content and happy.
And, I wonder if it scares you
as much as it scares me.
Thursday, February 4, 2016
Monday, April 6, 2015
The cliff.
I am sitting on the edge.
At any moment I could lose it.
Then,
I will be unstoppable.
Capable of destroying
Anything,
Everything.
Then,
I will be surround by broken things,
Like me.
At any moment I could lose it.
Then,
I will be unstoppable.
Capable of destroying
Anything,
Everything.
Then,
I will be surround by broken things,
Saturday, July 27, 2013
Yeah...
I almost feel obligated to go out and buy myself some HUGE TUBE of protein powder so I can take a picture of it and stick it instagram so everybody knows I'm a gym kind of gal.
Hue hue hue.
Hue hue hue.
It's kind of funny...
It's kind of funny; I always believed when I hit the end of my schooling career I would have this solidified idea of who I was, who I wanted to be. And it's come; and I honestly have no clue.
It's such a shame that after 6 years of being at an schooling institution all you get is some number placed on you that everyone seems to mark as your defining feature.
And, then (from what I've heard) it becomes superfluous. All that time you spent typing, highlighting, re-typing, re-formatting, and then maybe crying over- if you're like me- your notes, seems honestly like a waste of time. But, for some reason.
It. matters.
The worst part is, that the HSC isn't even close to being the end of the world. But at the time, it literally feels as if the walls are just melting all around you. You have this bolus stuck in your throat, a sick feeling in your gut, and that body numbness that doesn't subside until the exam is over. It. Feels. Quite frankly. Terrible.
To top it off, it is the stigma that the University is the ONLY place to go for any 'reputable' or 'real' education. God forbid you have to attend TAFE. But it's that stigma that makes me feel queasy about society. That the ONLY ATAR is a 99.95% ATAR and anything below that just means your stupid.
THAT is the bullshit they're feeding us.
And, it really is 'kind of funny', when you think about it... that THAT is what we all come to believe.
It's such a shame that after 6 years of being at an schooling institution all you get is some number placed on you that everyone seems to mark as your defining feature.
And, then (from what I've heard) it becomes superfluous. All that time you spent typing, highlighting, re-typing, re-formatting, and then maybe crying over- if you're like me- your notes, seems honestly like a waste of time. But, for some reason.
It. matters.
The worst part is, that the HSC isn't even close to being the end of the world. But at the time, it literally feels as if the walls are just melting all around you. You have this bolus stuck in your throat, a sick feeling in your gut, and that body numbness that doesn't subside until the exam is over. It. Feels. Quite frankly. Terrible.
To top it off, it is the stigma that the University is the ONLY place to go for any 'reputable' or 'real' education. God forbid you have to attend TAFE. But it's that stigma that makes me feel queasy about society. That the ONLY ATAR is a 99.95% ATAR and anything below that just means your stupid.
THAT is the bullshit they're feeding us.
And, it really is 'kind of funny', when you think about it... that THAT is what we all come to believe.
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Just a short story.
Haven't posted in a while.
So, here's a short story.
Nothing brilliant or flashy.
It doesn't possess a point, or moral.. It's just simply a snapshot of a moment.
Insert deep, emotionally affecting title.
So, here's a short story.
Nothing brilliant or flashy.
It doesn't possess a point, or moral.. It's just simply a snapshot of a moment.
Insert deep, emotionally affecting title.
He had
seen it all, seen everything; been a witness to change. The old man, his cat
and his ancient, lone, stained, red-brick house standing as a testament to the
past. A year, even less than, this white, sterile building crept upwards, a
chasm breaking apart the very foundation of familiarity that the old man was so
dependent on.
The
house across the road remained undisturbed for days. It was not a home, it was
a building; there was no warmth or life to it. On sunny days its sharp, square
edges were defamation to the clear, blue sky and the light tufts of white-grey
cotton candy that drifted past. It was rainy days that the old man would turn
to his cat and say:
“Ugly.
Ugly! The building does not deserve the suns sweet caress!”
When the
weather was foul, the old man felt it was one of his agents revealing the true
colours of the building, across the road. He could taste the tones of grey, the
sharp acidic sting of its corners, and the musky, bitter taste of industry on
the tip of his tongue.
* * *
The old
man stared up into the ceiling. The small particles of dust bouncing upwards
filling the room with every movement he made. The sun sifted through, spilling
over the gaps in the blinds, unwavering. It captured each spec, turning
ordinary dead cells to life, shimmering and hovering in mid-air. A single sigh,
he turned to his side. A wrinkled hand reached out, tracing the frame of a
wedding photo. If it wasn’t for the stark, icy blue eyes of the man within the
photo and the old man, the couple would have been barely recognisable.
With
sudden vitality he shot up and the startled cat leaped from the bed into the
floor.
It was
routine: kettle—on, radio—on , cat—fed, water—boiled , tea, two slices of
buttered toast and marmalade jam, sound of a loud automobile and a shrill
voice?
“Darling
it’s perfect, magnificent, simply divine, a masterpiece of innovation!”
“Poppycock”
uttered the old man as he took an irritated bite from one slice, “She must have
no taste, no taste at all!”
Revelling
in disapproval he gave into temptation. He had to steal a glance.
The
burgundy vehicle sat stationary in the front of the building across the road.
Its fumes mixed into the air, making a noxious concoction. He watched on. Out
came a women—slender figure, trench coat the colour of perfectly baked bread,
short, bobbed, neatly curled hair and a navy, velvet hat.
She
leant languidly on the car lifting a small foot enclosed in a tailored, leather
heel into the rim of the door. She caught the glimpse of an outline protected
by window shades, turned towards it and gave a delicate, warm smile and a
little wave.
The old
man stood frozen, paralysed, by his first glimpse of her face. The gentle
outline of her lips, the shining, emerald eyes and peachy cheeks filled his
body with a tingle he had not felt in years—starting from the centre of his
body reaching out to the ends of his toes. It was nostalgia. He dared to look
away, to compare. The frame was sitting just nearby on the side table, the one
he touched every morning.
Taking
one last glance, he pulled the blinds shut.
Friday, May 25, 2012
People.
Getting to know someone is like eating peanut butter or nutella, out of the jar, with a spoon, at first it seems like a brilliant idea to do it all in one go.. But, very shortly afterwards you realised it might have been a better idea to save some for later, or space it out over a period of time.
One of the greatest joys in life is getting know someone...
Even if it leads us to find things we don't necessarily like.
Looking back at the people I've met in my life, even if we are not friends anymore, I can still say that I enjoyed getting to know them.
One of the greatest joys in life is getting know someone...
Even if it leads us to find things we don't necessarily like.
Looking back at the people I've met in my life, even if we are not friends anymore, I can still say that I enjoyed getting to know them.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Life is pretty shit. Literally.
You've held on for what seems like an eternity, but you can't for any longer. You're pretty much one hundred percent sure you're sphincters are at their last stretch and any moment now they're are going to cop out on you.
You rush into the closest, hopefully deserted toilet and... Well, it comes rushing out...
Then suddenly you hear nearing footsteps, the familiar squeak of a toilet door opening.
Your bowels clinch shut. Like hell are you doing your business with another human present.
You hold on. Face red with the exhaustion and pressure. The person finishes in the cubicle next to you, makes a snide remark on the stench. The turn on the tap.
SHHHHHH.
With such precision you time your bowl evacuation to correlate with with sounds of the tap.
When it finishes- so do you.
The person shuffles out briskly and you can almost gurantee they were holding their breath.
You finish up and feel a sense of relief wash over you.
You giggle to yourself for the poor fucker to has to come in next and reach for the flush.
You push down. Nothing happens.
You try a few more times, getting progressively more violent. WHY WON'T YOU WORK!?!?!
A little man inside you're head is screaming nooo NOOOOOOOOOOOO whilst banging his forehead viciously against the flush button.
You remain calm. And, go into ninja stealth mode...
You rush into the closest, hopefully deserted toilet and... Well, it comes rushing out...
Then suddenly you hear nearing footsteps, the familiar squeak of a toilet door opening.
Your bowels clinch shut. Like hell are you doing your business with another human present.
You hold on. Face red with the exhaustion and pressure. The person finishes in the cubicle next to you, makes a snide remark on the stench. The turn on the tap.
SHHHHHH.
With such precision you time your bowl evacuation to correlate with with sounds of the tap.
When it finishes- so do you.
The person shuffles out briskly and you can almost gurantee they were holding their breath.
You finish up and feel a sense of relief wash over you.
You giggle to yourself for the poor fucker to has to come in next and reach for the flush.
You push down. Nothing happens.
You try a few more times, getting progressively more violent. WHY WON'T YOU WORK!?!?!
A little man inside you're head is screaming nooo NOOOOOOOOOOOO whilst banging his forehead viciously against the flush button.
You remain calm. And, go into ninja stealth mode...
Sunday, May 1, 2011
The Things I Hate About Customers
- When they fucking drop their food directly after you've served them...
and it's not as if you didn't hand it and it slipped. They've been holding onto it firmly for at least 30 seconds and BAM right on the tiled floor.
- People who unwrap their slurpee straws and leave them on the counter. Like fuck you, so badly. Is it that hard to walk to the bin? Or, even to just hand it to me?
- People with really thick accents who order something and get offended if I don't understand...
Seriously though. When COKE and CONE sound exactly the same IT'S NOT MY FAULT~
- People who get offended when you say 'Was it Coke with that?' and answer with a pissed of voice 'No, Sprite'. And they do this face >:
Fuck off. Do I look like I'm psychic or some shit?
- When they complain about someone else "pushing" in. Fuck off. If you didn't look like you knew your order right away I'm not going to waste my time for you to go discuss with your shitty little kids whilst I could be serving someone else.
-Adults who think it's cute to ask their children what they want when there is a massive queue behind them. YES YOUR KID IS ADORABLE, to other people. BUT I'M NOT OTHER PEOPLE AND I HATE CHILDREN.
-People who add shit on after you've processed things through- 'Oh, sorry, can I not have pickles?' Bloody 5 minutes after.. AND the burger has already been made. NO, NO YOU CAN'T NOT HAVE PICKLES. WANNA KNOW WHY!? BECAUSE IF YOU REALLLLLY DIDN'T WANT PICKLES YOU WOULD HAVE SAID SO....TEN MINUTES AGO!!!!!!!!!!!!
-People who order Oreo McFlurries.
I hope none of those people expect it to be properly "flurry-ed" during peak hour. Because, I am not standing there allowing all the Drinks and Desserts to build just so you, the customer, can enjoy an ice-cream dessert with a smooth consistency!
-'Fries with no salt, please' =.="
-'Family dinner box, please' =.="
- When they pull out there little bag of coins during peak hour to pay for a $20+ meal...
OH MY GOD.
There are many other things that are BAD about working at McDonalds. But, those are just the ones I experienced today. :
and it's not as if you didn't hand it and it slipped. They've been holding onto it firmly for at least 30 seconds and BAM right on the tiled floor.
- People who unwrap their slurpee straws and leave them on the counter. Like fuck you, so badly. Is it that hard to walk to the bin? Or, even to just hand it to me?
- People with really thick accents who order something and get offended if I don't understand...
Seriously though. When COKE and CONE sound exactly the same IT'S NOT MY FAULT~
- People who get offended when you say 'Was it Coke with that?' and answer with a pissed of voice 'No, Sprite'. And they do this face >:
Fuck off. Do I look like I'm psychic or some shit?
- When they complain about someone else "pushing" in. Fuck off. If you didn't look like you knew your order right away I'm not going to waste my time for you to go discuss with your shitty little kids whilst I could be serving someone else.
-Adults who think it's cute to ask their children what they want when there is a massive queue behind them. YES YOUR KID IS ADORABLE, to other people. BUT I'M NOT OTHER PEOPLE AND I HATE CHILDREN.
-People who add shit on after you've processed things through- 'Oh, sorry, can I not have pickles?' Bloody 5 minutes after.. AND the burger has already been made. NO, NO YOU CAN'T NOT HAVE PICKLES. WANNA KNOW WHY!? BECAUSE IF YOU REALLLLLY DIDN'T WANT PICKLES YOU WOULD HAVE SAID SO....TEN MINUTES AGO!!!!!!!!!!!!
-People who order Oreo McFlurries.
I hope none of those people expect it to be properly "flurry-ed" during peak hour. Because, I am not standing there allowing all the Drinks and Desserts to build just so you, the customer, can enjoy an ice-cream dessert with a smooth consistency!
-'Fries with no salt, please' =.="
-'Family dinner box, please' =.="
- When they pull out there little bag of coins during peak hour to pay for a $20+ meal...
OH MY GOD.
There are many other things that are BAD about working at McDonalds. But, those are just the ones I experienced today. :
Thursday, January 13, 2011
'MY cat has a fatter head!'
I love to gloat. I love the thought of gloating. BOASTING about all the great things that have happened to me....
I rarely do. But, when someone. Oh just someone you REALLY DEEPLY hate just walks past and you've beaten them at a sport. Your mouth opens for a split second and you suddenly turn into some barbaric whore.
and first it starts off small like 'hahahahahaha' and suddenly it just gets louder and louder 'ahahahahahahahAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH'
Soon you don't even have ANY control over what the hell is coming through your mouth and you're fucked.
Cause then after that moment you're labelled. Everyone hates you.
So in the end you don't gloat, you suck on that 'reward'... a 50c cent ice block [the green one, obviously.. cause all the other flavours are shit] and stick to the hypothetical gloating circulating in your head.
Everybody can gloat. Very few can put up with someone elses gloating.
I rarely do. But, when someone. Oh just someone you REALLY DEEPLY hate just walks past and you've beaten them at a sport. Your mouth opens for a split second and you suddenly turn into some barbaric whore.
and first it starts off small like 'hahahahahaha' and suddenly it just gets louder and louder 'ahahahahahahahAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH'
Soon you don't even have ANY control over what the hell is coming through your mouth and you're fucked.
Cause then after that moment you're labelled. Everyone hates you.
So in the end you don't gloat, you suck on that 'reward'... a 50c cent ice block [the green one, obviously.. cause all the other flavours are shit] and stick to the hypothetical gloating circulating in your head.
Everybody can gloat. Very few can put up with someone elses gloating.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
AU HAW HAW HAW BAGUETTE
Don't French people ever find it annoying that people always insist on wear freaking barets, whenever they visit their country?
"We are more than just the baguettes [which taste very good], barets and french kissing? :("
It's like when people visit Australia and expect me to be all up there grills with my hardcore 'Aussie accent'
And tourists always do the:
"G'Day Mattee! Did you go ride to school on a freakin' emu? And, eat crocodile for lunch [with a side dish of koala droppings garnished with some bush tomato sauce?"
And I'm all:
"Please, go die..."
No, just because I live in the country doesn't mean I follow the stereotype persona. I'm definately no Steve Irwin and as far as I'm concerned I don't have a bogan accent.
"We are more than just the baguettes [which taste very good], barets and french kissing? :("
It's like when people visit Australia and expect me to be all up there grills with my hardcore 'Aussie accent'
And tourists always do the:
"G'Day Mattee! Did you go ride to school on a freakin' emu? And, eat crocodile for lunch [with a side dish of koala droppings garnished with some bush tomato sauce?"
And I'm all:
"Please, go die..."
No, just because I live in the country doesn't mean I follow the stereotype persona. I'm definately no Steve Irwin and as far as I'm concerned I don't have a bogan accent.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Pregnant, you say?
If you're pregnant
...please don't tell me.
I just imagine you and your partner having sex.
And, sometimes my brains goes off on a tangent...
Some pretty fucked up shit goes down on your babies conception [in my mind]...
Light saber dildos, cucumbers, edible lube and for some reason a goat playing a guitar, as a cat is stroking its ball-sack.
mmmmm...cucumbers. I wonder if this edible lube is hommus flavoured?
...please don't tell me.
I just imagine you and your partner having sex.
And, sometimes my brains goes off on a tangent...
Some pretty fucked up shit goes down on your babies conception [in my mind]...
Light saber dildos, cucumbers, edible lube and for some reason a goat playing a guitar, as a cat is stroking its ball-sack.
mmmmm...cucumbers. I wonder if this edible lube is hommus flavoured?
Sunday, August 29, 2010
I love you.
Can people stop saying 'I love you'?
I bet your thinking why, Rebecca? Why would you request to destroy one of the most beautiful phrases in the world?
Can I say 'saranghae'?
No.
J'adore?
Silence! Small, fuzzy, peach man. Let me explain...
I hate when you do something- like tell a heaps epic joke and then some bastard goes 'OMG I LOVE YOU!'
WHAT DO YOU SAY AFTER THAT?!
I love you too?
That phrase is on the same level as 'You're so funny'. Now everything I do after that phrase has to be equal to the funny-ness of the the joke pre-phrase.
I bet everytime someone says that phrase some creep jumps out from the bushes and releases a bunch of crickets...
And, then some babies die.. don't ask why.. They just do.
I love you/You're so funny = The Most Awkward Moment EVER!
[and a truckload of Gay babies are consequently concieved. Swaying the ratio of gay v.s. straight population to 50:50 GAY RIGHTS MAY BE JUST AROUND THE CORNER GUYS KEEP THOSE MOMENTS AWKWARD]
I bet your thinking why, Rebecca? Why would you request to destroy one of the most beautiful phrases in the world?
Can I say 'saranghae'?
No.
J'adore?
Silence! Small, fuzzy, peach man. Let me explain...
I hate when you do something- like tell a heaps epic joke and then some bastard goes 'OMG I LOVE YOU!'
WHAT DO YOU SAY AFTER THAT?!
I love you too?
That phrase is on the same level as 'You're so funny'. Now everything I do after that phrase has to be equal to the funny-ness of the the joke pre-phrase.
I bet everytime someone says that phrase some creep jumps out from the bushes and releases a bunch of crickets...
And, then some babies die.. don't ask why.. They just do.
I love you/You're so funny = The Most Awkward Moment EVER!
[and a truckload of Gay babies are consequently concieved. Swaying the ratio of gay v.s. straight population to 50:50 GAY RIGHTS MAY BE JUST AROUND THE CORNER GUYS KEEP THOSE MOMENTS AWKWARD]
Friday, August 6, 2010
The life of Barry the Banana [an excerpt]
Bananas are those yellow penis-shaped things. It leads a rather average life, although people are confused exactly of its orientation- is it a herb? is a fruit? And, it's like "Hell niggah. Me both!" [because that what a banana would sound like if it spoke].
Sometimes life gets tough for bananas; especially with its doppleganger: the penis. One day some smart-ass decided it would be hilarious to practice sticking a condom on it...many innocent bananas, have thus, died.
To help the bananas that are getting raped by ravenous, horny year 9ners call:
1800-there-are-many-other-things-that-are-penis-shaped
Together, we can find an alternative and help save bananas for what they supposed to be for... eating. One motherfucking, bad-ass banana split at a time.
Sometimes life gets tough for bananas; especially with its doppleganger: the penis. One day some smart-ass decided it would be hilarious to practice sticking a condom on it...many innocent bananas, have thus, died.
To help the bananas that are getting raped by ravenous, horny year 9ners call:
1800-there-are-many-other-things-that-are-penis-shaped
Together, we can find an alternative and help save bananas for what they supposed to be for... eating. One motherfucking, bad-ass banana split at a time.
shakespeare ftw.
So much shit comes out people's mouth nowadays that you can never tell if they're being geniunely sincere or just a giantic douche, trying to 'get some'.
Sometimes I wish I was stupid; naive. That when someone said "You look really pretty" "Your buttons look really... good." I actually believed them.
But, I know guys; I've spoken to them. And they know that there exists a people who are dumb enough to believe the bullshit that comes out of their mouths.
And I hate them for it. They have ruined compliments for me.
I hope they meet someone who doesn't believe they're corny lines "Your eyes are lode-stars; and your tongue's sweet air more tuneable than lark to shepherd's ear"
[I wish boys quoted Shakespeare. It'd be like BANG! Clothes off.]
They will be stuck.
Boys should keep compliments for people they love. You can't use the same line for someone you love and someone you're just trying to fuck- it makes the line lose meaning.
Sometimes I wish I was stupid; naive. That when someone said "You look really pretty" "Your buttons look really... good." I actually believed them.
But, I know guys; I've spoken to them. And they know that there exists a people who are dumb enough to believe the bullshit that comes out of their mouths.
And I hate them for it. They have ruined compliments for me.
I hope they meet someone who doesn't believe they're corny lines "Your eyes are lode-stars; and your tongue's sweet air more tuneable than lark to shepherd's ear"
[I wish boys quoted Shakespeare. It'd be like BANG! Clothes off.]
They will be stuck.
Boys should keep compliments for people they love. You can't use the same line for someone you love and someone you're just trying to fuck- it makes the line lose meaning.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Joys.
Life just seems to be working right now. All the pieces of the puzzle are falling in the right place. I'm the fat kid that can have the cake and eat it.
Yes, something is bound to go wrong.. but, why be pessimistic? Why view the glass half empty?
I say the glass is always full, even if only half. Let them eat cake.
See what materialistic possesions bring? Happiness.
Best things in life are free my arse.
Yes, something is bound to go wrong.. but, why be pessimistic? Why view the glass half empty?
I say the glass is always full, even if only half. Let them eat cake.
See what materialistic possesions bring? Happiness.
Best things in life are free my arse.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Cause it's cold...and I'm hungry.
Fuck you, mum, dad. It has been two hours and you still haven't come home to provide me with food...
Yer...fuck you...
All alone in this empty cold house.....with nothing
Yer...nothing
...but chocolate brownies..
chocolate brownies?
which I can't eat....
Yer...can't even eat them
Maybe a nibble...
No.
Nobody would notice.
No.
Release your inner.....fat person? :)
No.
Fuck you, goddamnit brain.
:)
Has anyone ever given you the cold shoulder, before?
Nope.
...
Hello?
Yer...fuck you...
All alone in this empty cold house.....with nothing
Yer...nothing
...but chocolate brownies..
chocolate brownies?
which I can't eat....
Yer...can't even eat them
Maybe a nibble...
No.
Nobody would notice.
No.
Release your inner.....fat person? :)
No.
Fuck you, goddamnit brain.
:)
Has anyone ever given you the cold shoulder, before?
Nope.
...
Hello?
Friday, July 9, 2010
Monday, July 5, 2010
They're fugly, black and chunky. They're your school shoes.
One thing that bothers me:
People who say stupid stuff like "we pay for an education, not a lecture on what we wear" etcetc.
I just want to point out- if you go to a public school you are NOT paying for an education, so that argument does not apply to you. So please, stop using it as if you have some sort of legitimate point that proves you're correct.
I just want to say that lace up leather shoes are not that bad. I think, if anything, they look better than flats. If you have a problem with leather lace ups, put the time and effort into finding a pair you are happy with, so that people like me don't have to put up with your whining and complaining. There is an actual reason why you have to wear leather lace ups- it involves acid and your foot.... Want me to continue?
"But, I hate lace ups, they look so fugly. blah blah." You AND 800, or so, kids look ugly together so it's a unified uglyfication. Stop acting like you're the only one suffering.
OK, so before anyone goes ahead and points out that I'm a hypocrite because I wear converse instead of the "proper functional jogger." I put the effort in carrying my sports uniform "to and from" school. So yer...
^^
"You're a hypocrite, Rebecca"
"Who the fuck are you? Get off my blog!"
People who say stupid stuff like "we pay for an education, not a lecture on what we wear" etcetc.
I just want to point out- if you go to a public school you are NOT paying for an education, so that argument does not apply to you. So please, stop using it as if you have some sort of legitimate point that proves you're correct.
I just want to say that lace up leather shoes are not that bad. I think, if anything, they look better than flats. If you have a problem with leather lace ups, put the time and effort into finding a pair you are happy with, so that people like me don't have to put up with your whining and complaining. There is an actual reason why you have to wear leather lace ups- it involves acid and your foot.... Want me to continue?
"But, I hate lace ups, they look so fugly. blah blah." You AND 800, or so, kids look ugly together so it's a unified uglyfication. Stop acting like you're the only one suffering.
OK, so before anyone goes ahead and points out that I'm a hypocrite because I wear converse instead of the "proper functional jogger." I put the effort in carrying my sports uniform "to and from" school. So yer...
^^
"You're a hypocrite, Rebecca"
"Who the fuck are you? Get off my blog!"
Sunday, June 27, 2010
I would be the WORST teacher. Period.
I want to become a teacher, and before you go ahead and shake me violently, give me a nice square slap across the face and yell "WHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHYYYYYYYY?!?!", let me explain.
I LOATHE teachers who lie. Here is a perfect example:
*teacher walks past artwork*
Teacher: Wow, Rebecca, this looks great. It's wonderful.
Me: *mutters under breathe* right.....
And the truth is the artwork DOES look shit. The perspective is all wrong, one eye is bigger than the other, one leg is longer than the the other and the face looks like a fucking peanut. In other words your attempt of Realism looks more like a Picasso drawing. [Way to juxtapose, Rebecca]
I want to be the teacher that breaks boundaries. Who goes:
"You know what? You're right. It does look like shit."
And, my god, parent-teacher interviews would be the highlight of the year:
"Your kid is.... a turd. I skid mark on the underwear of society. You may call them 'special' but to me they're just another little shit I have to deal with on a daily basis. Clearly, he/she is mentally retarded, spends wayyy to much time trying to be a slut then being smart and if their was a school for whores they would, indefinitely, get a scholarship."
At my school, there would be more children going to the coucillsor then class. But, hey, at least I would be doing something for the "troubled youths of society".
I LOATHE teachers who lie. Here is a perfect example:
*teacher walks past artwork*
Teacher: Wow, Rebecca, this looks great. It's wonderful.
Me: *mutters under breathe* right.....
And the truth is the artwork DOES look shit. The perspective is all wrong, one eye is bigger than the other, one leg is longer than the the other and the face looks like a fucking peanut. In other words your attempt of Realism looks more like a Picasso drawing. [Way to juxtapose, Rebecca]
I want to be the teacher that breaks boundaries. Who goes:
"You know what? You're right. It does look like shit."
And, my god, parent-teacher interviews would be the highlight of the year:
"Your kid is.... a turd. I skid mark on the underwear of society. You may call them 'special' but to me they're just another little shit I have to deal with on a daily basis. Clearly, he/she is mentally retarded, spends wayyy to much time trying to be a slut then being smart and if their was a school for whores they would, indefinitely, get a scholarship."
At my school, there would be more children going to the coucillsor then class. But, hey, at least I would be doing something for the "troubled youths of society".
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