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Sherlock Meet Up!

Wow, it has been so long since I've posted here.

I just wanted to let any Melbourn-ians know that there is a Meet Up for any Sherlock fans!

You can check it out here if you like.

It will be at The Queen Victoria Gardens. 12th May. 11 am.

There are also more Meet ups in Perth, Brisbane, Sydney and other places to come!


Yesterday was probably, no, it was, the worst day of my life. 
   My dog lilly, who is about 16 years old, and I am 18 so I've had her for a very long time, was put down at the vets. We decided it relatively quickly, but didn't realise what an unbearable thing it would be. I mean, we've had lilly for so long that she's become a part of our everyday life.
   I went with Dad to the vet, because I didn't want him to go alone and I couldn't bear to just leave her without one last cuddle. She stood on my lap and stuck her head out the window for the whole 20 minute journey. Meanwhile, Dad and I are sniffling.
   We got in their and sat with her for about half an hour in the little room. She was relatively calm, and I cuddled and kissed and played with her while she sniffed about and kept licking my hands and face. She kept looking into my face, as if she knew why I was so sad, and I wanted to tell her stop, because I knew I was betraying her, that I was letting this happen. 
   I kept thinking, why is she so alive? Why is she so alive when in a few minutes she'll be dead?
   I had to go out of the room when the vet came, but I could hear her whining so loudly when they gave her a sedative. I had snot running down my nose and the assistant kept coming out and talking to me but I couldn't open my mouth without bursting into tears.
   Dad came out about ten minutes later, his eyes red. 
   I don't think I've ever seen my mum or dad cry like that, yesterday, and it was strangely worse with dad, because he's the strong one.
   We went out to the car and they gave her body to us in a little white bag that dad put in the boot in the basket. The thought of her being in that bag, not moving. Not breathing. Not living, was almost too much to bear.
   We were relatively silent on the way back, we didn't notice the terrible music or the fact that were were both bawling our eyes out. But then dad admitted two things to me:
-He said he wouldn't be this sad when his own father died, he just wouldn't.
-When he had to get one of our first cats put down, he couldn't stop saying how sorry he was to her  when she was dead.
It made me even sadder, that he revealed those two things to me, like he couldn't not tell me. 
   I cried and I cried and I cried on that drive home. Because Lilly was in the boot and she was dead and she wasn't moving and I wanted her to be alive and breathing and living and justthere. I wanted to see her again and I wanted to see that goofy smile on her face.
   And when we got home, I thought, I have to stop crying, I have to be strong because my older sister is taking this so hard. 
   But I opened the door and mum was there and I burst into tears. I don't think I've ever cried like that in front of anyone before. I usually wait until I'm alone. But I cried in front of everyone and I didn't care because we weren't going to see Lilly again.
   I couldn't even sleep. I had to take some strong sleeping tablets, and even then I stayed up late staring at the tv and waking up every hour or so when I eventually did fall asleep. There were no dreams.
   Today I thought I would be okay. But whenever I look out the window or into the backyard, I start crying. Just thinking about her tightens my throat and brings tears to my eyes. Everything. I just, I can't stop feeling so guilty and awful and thinking I've betrayed her so badly by letting this happen.
   She was alive, and now she's not. And I'm never going to see her again.

Writing for me, myself and I

I love to write. I love to write more than I love to eat, or sleep, or draw.
Which is saying something.
Writing is a way of escape and a way of expressing myself through something other than the spoken word. I'm anti-social and deathly afraid of moving through crowds for fear of someone knowing me and wanting to stop and chat.
But, writing, writing is difficult and a challenge and it keeps my mind occupied when I'm in a blue mood. I would love to be published one day, to have someone tell me that they have read my book and liked it, or could relate to it! But being published isn't whats important to me, its the writing itself that keeps me going back.
I've began so many stories, more than fifty 5,000 novel beginnings that I will never use but haven't the heart to get rid of. My one prize piece, the one that means so much to me, is my only completed novel. A very early draft of 'Obsidian Ink' with early ideas and weak characters that trail along a weak plot through a shadow of a city. 'Obsidian Ink' was about a girl who could teleport, and who was murdered, yet it was only at the end of the novel that we confront her killer and something comes of it. It took me about three months to write, from start to finish. And I couldn't have been happier.
Because it was PROOF, proof that I was capable of of completing something when I put my mind to it. And it boosted my confidence to no end. It also made me realise that I could be happy with writing a novel without the immediate pressure of getting it published as soon as possible.
And now, after more than a dozen beginnings, I'm finally re-writing 'Obsidian Ink'. Still with the main theme of superheroes and a heroine who can't control her anger and could hardly be called a heroine at all. I'm loving writing it, because I'm challenging myself with research and the style and getting the characters personalities down pat so you could recognize them by a phrase.
And now, without further ado, I'm going to go back and continue my novel.


I'm so excited!
I just found out that Janet Evanovich's One For the Money, the first in her Stephanie Plum series, has been made into a movie and will be out next year!
I love the books, I remember starting to read them in primary school *I don't know why I was allowed to, but hey, I wasn't naive* and really liked them. My older sister has always been the one to buy the books but she just yesterday gave them all to me, so I'm going to reread all of them.
I am so not reading the Motor mouth and other series by Evanovich, though. They just can't compare.
Anyway, I think Katherin Heigl will be okay, but I REALLY DO NOT LIKE WHO THEY CHOSE FOR RANGER! Ick. Morelli is okay. Lula is okay. Vinnie is perfect and I love Jimmy Alpha.


Just joking, I have exams.
And these are, really, my last exams for school. Ever. Finally.

I find myself sitting in those lines, listening to people scuffle and sneeze and shuffle, procrastinating for the first half hour before they can leave. I find myself sitting there and thinking "Wow, this is really it. No more school and no more being social with these people. No more...."

On and on it goes. I thought I would be elated, happy, gloriously releived. But I'm not, I'm just tired and I really, REALLY wish it was Christmas.

So, to fill in what used to be my school time, it seems I still don't have as much free time as I had anticipated. I was called into STUCK ON YOU, who I worked for last summer because the Christmas rush is getting out of hand and they need more help. And I mean, it pays well and I suppose everyone has to work. BUT I WANTED A BREAK. I wanted these holidays before Christmas to be relaxing. To do everything I've been waiting to do for the entire last year. I wanted to do NaNo and finished my novel and do lots of painting and start an etsy shop with my sister.

 But, alas, mum keeps forcing me to ask for more and more and more work and everyday is now filled with THINGS.

I suppose I'm just complaining, but you've got to know as well how it feels, that after so long of being treated like a kid and never being rushed into anything, I'm suddenly being PUSHED into EVERYTHING.
Anyway, thats just me angsting. I'm really not so grumpy, but I needed to vent.
Next week on Monday I have my TAFE interveiw for Graphic design, so I have to put the finishing touches on my portfolio. I have my last two exams on  Tuesday and Wednesday and then Thursday and Friday I'll be working. Full week!

I've also been trying to draw some Christmas things, cards and tags and such, here they are:


Today was possibly the best day of my life! Well, okay, this year. And its certainly made up for all those crappy days at school.
My sisters and I went to Melbourne to go to this years Armageddon Convention because there were so many people we wanted to meet. And it was AWESOME.

Weekend at Nan's.

Well, not really the weekend, but two days at my Nan's house with no laptop or internet.
We went for walks on the beach and fed the magpies, it was nice and relaxing. At first it was really frustrating not having the internet, but after two weeks of worrying about my homework and spending all my time on it, I suppose it was good to have a break. I like spending time with Nan, she's always worried about us being hungry or bored.

It was great :)


Here are some drawings I've done on the Bamboo tablet. I've been meaning to create a large painting of Lilly dog to put up on the wall. She's getting old, and some not fantastic news from the vet has us all more than a little depressed. I'm not sure whether to use my computer drawn image, pencil, watercolour or acrylics.

Surviving School!

I will survive!
I mean, I hope I do.
I probably complain a lot here, but sometimes its the only place to vent. Facebook is filled with people I don't particularly want to share my mind with and there's only so much you can write on Twitter. So, Livejournal ends up taking the brunt of my ansty-ness.

So, this week had been hell. To start off simply.
I have a cold, and its been brewing for a while so I feel like my head's going to explode any time now. But I can deal with that. I just have to chill.
The worst thing about this week was probably when Zo and I were in class at lunchtime ( Because its kinda cold and we love taking advantage of the heaters ) and in the room next to us we could hear an old ( ex-friend, because we parted on horrible terms ) friend and a teacher in the room next to us.
And then they started bitching about us.
And Zo and me sat there, froze, because we didn't know what to do. In the end, we waited to the end of the next class and where I politely told him to stop talking about us. ( me and my stuttering )
Then we had a practice exam for three hours where snot dripped in a continious stream down my face and I had a mild panic attack because I couldn't understand the layout of the exam.
And then on the bus home, because Zoe and I are always the last off, the bus driver wouldn't open the door to let us off and starting yelling at us about our Myki cards.

Of course, I was exhausted and sick and I dislike conflicted because it makes me feel like I'm going to throw up, and as soon as I got home I burst into tears and curled up in a ball of self pity on my bed for the next two days. No school for me. Alright, I was sick, as well.

Anyway, I'm trying to forget, so here are a few pictures I've been working on:

The beginning of the End.

There are four weeks of official school left. Two this term and two after the holidays.
Exams will be soon.
It's really odd, that my twelve years of schooling are about to come to an end. I can still remember the first day of Prep and now its the end of year 12.
I feel like there's this large wave, big and dark and scary, looming above me. And as soon as I stumble out of my last exam, its going to swallow me whole. And I won't know what to do.
I know that I'm going to apply for TAFE , a graphic design course is the only bearable thing I can think of doing. And I'm applying for a job at Coles in the fresh food department (just like my older sister *sigh*) but still, everything feels unfinished and unsure and I have this distinct feeling that these expectations are going to fall short.
Everyone at school is sluggish. You can see it in class, when you talk to them, when you walk passed them.
I noticed it more today, that even with two weeks to finished everything, we can't summon the energy or the motivation to keep trucking along. Everyone is on the verge of getting sick. Coughing and sniffling and exhausted. Purple smudges under their eyes, like they don't sleep anymore, or like they're on drugs. There's no fighting, but don't get me wrong theres still gossip and snarky comments, but you can see the weariness just leeching out of them and they can't be bothered fighting.

It's like running:
You start off strong. You think you're going great. You can do this.
And then you're legs start to ache. But its fine, everyone gets a little sore. You keep on running.
You're pace is a little slower. It's no longer a race. Everyone just wants to get to the end.
You start taking breaks. You're legs are cramping up. You try to drag you're friends along with you, but they're just as tired.
In the end you can't run anymore. You can see the finish line.
You start crying. You don't want to do this anymore. You know you're going to fail.
You're walking now. Arms wrapped around yourself so you don't fall apart.
Out of breath and  so very, very tired. You wonder if it will be worth it, in the end.