Yes I know, its a High School Musical Song. Its corny, bla, bla, bla. Get Over It.

Okay, so this was my very first Blog. Blog Numero One. Thought I should blog it as a separate page since it’s quite a bit of an introduction (albeit in a slightly ‘loop-de-doo’ tone) about my world – ‘Utopia’, as I’ve decided to call it. The tab ‘Yours Truly‘ is a little info about this blog specifically; and myself. Read on, if you’re interested. If not, just click on the ‘Home‘ tab which is an archive of all my blogs or, the separate Blog Categories,  in the right side-bar, on topics that do interest you. Cheers!

“And so I begin.”

Before I start on a day to day basis of what’s going on in my world and the world in general, I think I’d like to introduce myself. I like writing. I love reading even more. My sole ambition since I sat in my English class back in Grade 10 was to become a published writer. A fiction novel writer to be more specific. (Among less goal-oriented ambitions of becoming a world famous Figure-Skater, a Singer, a Dancer or a Designer – most of which were pretty unrealistic, considering the sort of parents I have, and religion I believe in.) But as most things go in life, it wasn’t as simple as that. As the saying goes “A person is recognised by the company he keeps” so I want to start by talking about the countless people in my life who’ve shaped and gritted me into the person I am today.

My English teacher in Grade 12 was the biggest and probably sole inspirator in my life, in regard to my career. He was also probably one of the few people who looked beyond the fact that our class were a bunch of “hyper, careless and insensitive girls” in someone’s words.  Another two people would be my Biology/ Physics & Chemistry teachers. They were my spine, for without them my downward spiral to destroy myself in those last years of high school would have surely plunged me right to the bottom, and never back up again. Mr Iain, Miss Carla & Miss Alison, I owe you the world. Thank you so much for the lectures, the laughs, the telling offs, the little pieces of insight and for just simply being there when even I didn’t know I needed someone.

My parents, though constantly nagging and rubbing-raw my negative side, were determined to get me up, running and revved to my full and absolute potential. I, of course, did not understand at the time, not bothered to even try. I was set on thinking the worse of them, as I still do sometimes. Please forgive me  for I’m certain I’m the reason for, at least, 60% of the grey hair that I can see, is beginning to peak.

My friends. Oh Lord, what can I say about my friends. They have been the worst and best parts of my life pieced together. My high school years passed in a blur of hyper-ness, laughter and absolute oblivion to any serious cares of the world. I was young, I know. But that was probably no excuse for me to act the way I did. You were all with me every step of the day. Right up to the day of our graduation. And as most stories go, we parted to go our separate ways. Some together, some alone. It was never the same again. I love each and every one of you as much as I did when we were inseparable. Bitches.

For the last two years since my graduation on the 10th of January 2008, I have been flitting around, from one job to another and from one mental state to another. I have been a teacher, an intern, a photographer, a tutor, several times a  volunteer, a baby-sitter, a house-keeper (of my own home), a sister, a ‘copine’ and finally a daughter. I have experienced so many, different levels of mental states that I am now confused as to which is which. When I scream at my brother and stomp to my room, shaking with fury; am I angry? Am I upset? or am I simply frustrated? Is it really my brother? Or is it just me? I think too much. Too many thoughts flow through my brain at once, but I never know what I’m actually thinking anymore. When a certain memory flits through my mind, I ask myself: why did I just remember that? I never know the answer. I don’t remember ever feeling like this, so I’m unable to comprehend it.

Hmph. Maybe I’m just crazy. Maybe I’m reading too much into this. I don’t know. All I know, is that I love to write. Writing is my home. It is what I come to when I have nothing else left. It is what I do when I am, in Anne Shirley’s worlds: the depths of despair. It is what console’s me. What lightens me. What feeds me. What keeps me sane. without it, I would probably be nothing. Or in a less insane tone: not myself.

That; and the world of music, doodling and reading. The absolute best thing, would be all these things together, at the beach. I adore the beach. I would love nothing better than to sit on the grainy sand with the waves tickling my tootsies and that resounding silence, that is only heard by the ocean. The silence that  is flooded with the lapping of the water and the faint worldly sounds carried across the miles and miles of land and ocean. The air is clear, no buildings blocking your view of… well, everything really; no cars crowding your hearing sense and no people to distract you from that private world of yours that you hardly get the time to visit. Yes, i adore the beach.

Dum de dum… It’s not possible to say everything in this single blog but I’m guessing this is enough to allow a glimpse into my insane, messed-up, yet sometimes quite normal – world. I’m hoping I’ll get my act together in the near future, but for now – this is my first giant step.

Chaww (NOT Ciao!)