It was my birthday on Monday, and it was pretty shit. But that's okay because I've got my LC-A+ and I'm somewhat thrilled.
Journal entry from October 19th 2007:
When I was seven, eight, nine, perhaps even ten, I'd always i
magine myself a certain way at fifteen. Grown up and familiar with the world. But I've let myself down by not being anything like I had wanted, by not doing all the things I expected myself to have done. Where I stand now is not where I want to stand, and where I want to stand, I'm not even sure. I just feel like a big chunk of my life is missing, and I was the one who got rid of it.
I read seven of my old journal entries and then I had to stop, because I couldn't bear to go further. It scares me that I was such an unhappy girl. No one should ever have to relive that sort of pain through words I didn't even understand. It's sort of funnily pathetic, in a way. I don't think my mindset has changed much in two years.
(Taken at The Curve during Christmas time last year. If you look carefully you can see little people in Santa hats, singing along to pre-recorded Christmas carols, pushing their way through the Christmas crowd to get to the foam string cans at the end. They were only two dollars.)
We had a geography excursion to White Rocks Dairy Farm today, that was less of an excursion than it was a long, dreary bus ride. I managed to get many pictures of cows, cow dung, cow bums and other Freesian things. It was a complete waste of a day, but I live for the bus rides like these, with Texta moustaches and candy bracelets and lots of secret, sleepy photographs.