Bittersweet Future.

“Today is gonna be the day that their gonna throw it back to you. By now, you should have somehow realized what you’ve got to do.”

Since I was 13, I’ve had a basic idea of what I wanted to do. It was continually a dream of something significant, flashy, and important. A lawyer was generally my only passionate choice. Maybe it was because I was so young, and merely wanted to be it since Elle Woods [Legally Blonde] did it with such class. And because I had the tendency to never back down from an argument.

That’s not the case anymore. Here I am. Edging on 16, being advised that I need to decide what I’m going to do for the rest of my life.
My report card was appalling. I know what you’re thinking; it’s merely a grade 10 report card, no big deal. Well, my parent’s reaction was ultimately suggesting I drop out as I virtually failed.
Every time something like this has happened; I’ve blamed everybody but myself. Now, I realize – this is for real. Can’t blame anyone but myself. There are no second chances. Unless, of course, you’re actually considering repeating. I know what I want to do and I know who I want to be.

I want to live in New York. So at the break of dawn I can run and watch the sun rise. So that I can walk down the street and have thousands of people walking with me. I don’t want a quiet, subtle town. I want a big, bright, loud city. I want to work in a world-famous fashion magazine, and write articles with such precise and class that I’m renowned for them. I want to be respected and valued as a person, not only a employee. All I want is to have a wonderful life. I want to be respected and acknowledged in my career.

The last thing I have ever pictured being is a Noosa District Grade 10 high school dropout working at Woolworth’s till I’m 60. I can’t believe that the suggestion is even being considered. I’m better and smarter then that, aren’t I? Clearly I’m not. I don’t have the motivation. I don’t have the will power; I’m starting to believe what I’m being told. That I’m going to fail.

I need to prove not only those who doubt me wrong, but myself. I need inspiration and incentive. I need to know I can follow through with my ambitions and succeed.

Where do I even start?

Don’t you dare tell me..

There is no such thing as ‘emo.’ Ok, so maybe not in that terminology, because it’s really not a practical label but you have to try and understand me. How do I know there is? I myself went through that pathetic stage. It was over a year ago this month.

I want go into the irrelevant details; I’ll keep it short. I went to the plaza a fair bit, to try and ‘scope’ out these emo boys with my friends. It wasn’t until I met one in particular I started to try and be one. Dying my hair black, cutting a mullet, wearing everything black, you know what I mean. It wasn’t until 6 months ago I realized how entirely pathetic that was in itself. I didn’t just change to suit them, I changed my morals, I lost friendships, all for the sake of fitting in with the out crowd.

Before this, I was a real outdoors type of person. I was tanned, I had waist-long light brown/blonde hair and I was happy. I really don’t know why I changed but I did.
I wasn’t on myspace but then, because I was never home, but as I changed, I got myspace and suddenly, I was as pale as white, hair as black as when you close your eyes and I was getting called emo. Believe it or not, I didn’t mind. When I got myspace, I got a camera.
For obvious reasons.

I was gross. I was depressing. I was the complete definition of a person who follows. I can’t even remember what that was like. I wanted so bad to fit it.

You might be thinking: what’s the actual point of this? My point is, people are continually saying “DON’T JUDGE ME” and shit. But, seriously – who are you kidding? You WANT people to say your ‘emo’ or ‘scene’ etc. I hate the fact that I know I changed to fit in, yet people can scream, rant and rave and say they did it for themselves, and they are entirely original. Give me a break. People like that are only trying to convince themselves.

Lucky to say, I’m finished with it. I’m finally getting tanned again, and my hair is now brown, blonde and mahogany. No black. My ‘mullet’ is growing out, and my hair is finally bra strap-length. I’m sick of the ‘emos’ and I wish that one day everyone will finally fucking wake up and go back to being themselves. Yes, I obviously still use myspace, but never to the degree where I sit here all day adding emos and writing “I love black” and “suffocate me” everywhere. I was a joke, a laughing stock and It’s embarrassing knowing I was like that.

Anyway. This is written in no more then feelings being expressed. No hard literature or in depth explanation. This is pure anger and exhaustion combined.

8 weeks. 56+ Days. One huge challenge.

For me, holidays are a god-given sanctuary. Yes, though it’s dominantly labelled as ‘family time’ and all those optimistic, jolly things that yell out ‘SANTA,’ but for me – it’s self-time. I get to just unwind and capture some time off. I typically try some new, sparkly marvellous idea to re-invent myself, lose weight and return to school with gorgeous hair, a superior tan, incredible everything AND finally, for once, get decent grades.

Hands up if you know that that’s never actually happened? Congratulations, since it in no possible way ever has. It usually ends up with me spending all holidays on the computer, lounging around putting on weight. It also includes drifting from my friends because I can never be bothered to actually pick up the phone and call them.

 Well not this time. I’ve got everything I want to do down to a notch. I’ve started some pretty heavy and hectic workout sessions that last over an hour, I’ve hired over 15 books to read and I’m getting my internet turned off for 3 days a week, which will motivate me to leave my room.
So far I think it’s a pretty fail-proof move. Right? Well, last week I ended up spending $140+ with my mother Christmas shopping believe it or not. I’ve been trying my absolute hardest to aspire into being some Christmas fanatic as apposed to my usual pessimistic self. Who knows, maybe all this mistletoe and carols are starting to rub off? Now, there’s a scary thought.
 Well, it’s Monday, the first official day of the holidays. I suppose I actually might start a journal on wordpress. Motivate me that little big extra to finally succeed in this ongoing battle with myself. We’ll see, won’t we?

Music

It creates a sort of high for a listener when he or she discovers a sound they connect with. When the lyrics and the beats flow through your ears and flow in rhythem with your heart – it’s a nice feeling. It’s becoming easier to find, especially now when you can download practically anything you want. We watch movies, and hear a song that envelopes your ears and sends chills down our spings, and the first thing we do is find it through googling lyrics or searching the band, and download it. Then we spend hours with the song on repeat until we know word for word and know each pitch off our hearts.

Music in the early 90’s brought us the likes of one hit wonders, the Pixies, the Replacements and Smashing Pumpkins, to name a few I’ve listened to. You had bands even before that, who’s songs were nothing short of amazing. Flooded with meaning and beauty, there were no songs like those of today. E.g The majority of Rap music includes lyrics like “smack that ass” or “i’ll put my cock in ya mouth and listen to you moan.” Luckily, there are still a few bands that emerge as wonderful, like Placebo, City and Colour, A Thorn for Every Heart – to name a few that are all different genres.

One particular song fromThorn for Every Heart song – Worthless stands out among today’s ‘music.’

This is the first verse and chorus.

“There are times in our lives
When we just can not compromise
Can’t take advice
But can’t deny
All of the things wrong in our lives
Need a reason for a new dream
When it seems like dawn won’t come
Search for answers
Feel the darkness
When it seems that there are none

I’m not coming home
There’s nothing left there at all
Now I take this on my own

Of the bridges that we’ve crossed
Of the loved ones that we’ve lost
Till your lungs fill up with blood
Shut up and wait for the break down”

I think it’s a beautiful song. It means something, and when you read those incredibly well put words, it sinks in and makes you think and wonder. I get extremely attached and involved with particular songs like this. Songs that make me question myself, my feelings, the world I am in. Artists voices are such pleasant sounds, how can you not love sitting down and listening to YOUR type of passion?

Artwork

Lately I’ve been looking for new paintings, photos or anything simply tasteful to put on my walls. I’ve being going into alot of artshops, and I have to say being a complete cheapskate – I knew there was nothing wonderful that caught my eye that would be less then $200. A few days ago, in an amazing discovery, I found a painting I loved! It was blue, with pink and white splashes sitting perfectly next to a pink and blue flower. I knew I wanted it, it was practically yelling at me to buy it. I took a breath…and flipped over the pricetag. What emerged in numbers broke my hopes into little scatter peices as I read aloud $345. Now, usually I would leave the store muttering about how ridiculous the prices was, but this time, no. I asked the shop attendent if I was allowed to take a photo. She had no objections. And I was happy.

That night I loaded the picture and wrote down what I would need to dupilcate this fine and lovely painting. Today, I have all I need – so what am I doing alone on a friday night? Getting covered in paint! Finished result will be posted soon.

Also: I have stumbled across some excellent websites with tips and ideas when it comes to painting. Whether it be oil paintings, accrylic, you can find almost anything. Google gets more useful everyday.

Who is Caffine Inspired?

My names Alisha (Ally) Williams. A name that’s never suited me and I’ve never liked it. I’m a 15-yr-old girl and I work too much. Most of my spare time at home is spent on a computer. Might sound sad, and you might invision an overweight bored girl, but no not really. I just love letting things out, and typing to the world lets most of what I feel out. Though, I have to say without contradicting myself – I usually have no idea what to write, so most of this will be mumbled, boring words thrown together in an attempt to get a message across.

I’m currently in year 10 and studying. 2007 I’ll be in grade 11, and that’s frightening for me, considering I still feel 12, not 16. I don’t know what I want out of life but a journalist, lawyer or photographer are my current goals.

I have the tendency to start things and never finish them. The last time I counted I had over 40 hotmail accounts and 5 gmail accounts. I get bored very easily, and am constantly changing things about myself whenever I get the chance.

 I’m a notorious list-maker and the majority of my schoolbooks, visual art diaries and walls are covered with to-do list, holiday planners, weekend planners, day-to-day schedules. My room is almost 100% immaculate due to the fact I love cleaning. Unusual and edging towards a being a complete freak, I know, but I hate dirtyness and untidyness. It’s slightly repulsive to me.

My attention-span is basically a fuse. People who irritate me and don’t think before throwing out harsh words shorten it. I will always listen to people, and I’ll rarely tell someone to shut up. People say I gossip alot – and though i don’t deny it, half the time I talk, I’m talking about things in particular, not people, which is a common misconception.

I hate it when people don’t understand simple grammar and spelling. Also: if someone “wHo WrItEs LykK DiS” talks to me, l never respond to them, it shows a complete lack of intelligence.
I respect people with class and dignity. Example – no sluts and players thanks.

Well, I’m sure there will be countless more blogs to come – ramblings I can assure you. I’m generally a nice person, and there are only a few people I’d actually consider punching in the face, so talk.
For now anyway, bye.
- A.