My little ohmm utopia is about to become a stinking cesspit of verbal diarrhoea and fake banter. I hate fakeness, I really do.
I think my 6 tragic years in an all girls convent as a loser is the main cause of my aversion to anything unreal and stupid. That and my toxic boyfriend of sorts when I was 16.
I remember slinking away to read my Enid Blyton and Sherlock Holmes. I never knew what Perfect 10 was and thought Gold 90.5 was the coolest station around and there could not be a better song than Total Eclipse Of The Heart. Me and my other low key (I will not tag them as losers, because they are all now very successful and beautiful people, un derserving of such a title) friends would escape to little forgotten corners of our very huge school, (which might I add had a HUGE Father Fucking Barrer statue, an Alligator pond which had baby crocs that were constantly fed play dough, erasers, pencil shavings and other primary school things, creepy wind chimes hanging from EVERY pillar, 1 huge rock garden complete with red wooden bridge and other ridiculous useless shit..all because our principle was a media crazy whore who wanted her botox mug in the papers.) and get lost in our exploration adventures. Our past time would include sitting round belting out Wilson Philips's rendition of Daniel (which incidentally is the same name of above said boyfriend of sorts from secondary school..hmmm) over and over again and coming up with alternate endings for trashy Sweet Valley High shit. I was truly a sad kid.
Rebellion came about when my mother gave me no more attention as my brother sapped the life out of her, literally. He was a hyperactive kid, a real bundle of joy. A true delight to be around, as compared to her morose sulky daughter with a weight problem.
I took my angst out on botox principle. We were forbidden to touch the flowers in her precious rock garden. One recess, I picked her ixora bushes bare, sat under the red wooden bridge and started stringing them together into necklaces and bangles, all in the hopes of peddling the flower chains to stupid girls for recess money (I had to eat packed recess everyday). Of course I was caught, and was made to wear my designs and stand outside her office. A reminder to all that flowers are not meant to be plucked.
I was always reminded of how small and worthless I was in Primary school, surrounded by the cheerleaders, teacher's pets, student leaders... They somehow always went out of their way to make me feel unwanted. I told myself, never again will I be surrounded by trash talking fakes. I learnt that life is cruel at very early age.
Work has remided me the world still is a cruel and plastic place. On the flip side, it has taught me to appreciate people as individuals. It has also taught me to wear my mask proudly, play the game and go home to what's real and genuine. Hold close the genuine few and smile and banter with the rest. Life is indeed a stage.
Slaves to communication
Black and White
How long more?
I think my 6 tragic years in an all girls convent as a loser is the main cause of my aversion to anything unreal and stupid. That and my toxic boyfriend of sorts when I was 16.
I remember slinking away to read my Enid Blyton and Sherlock Holmes. I never knew what Perfect 10 was and thought Gold 90.5 was the coolest station around and there could not be a better song than Total Eclipse Of The Heart. Me and my other low key (I will not tag them as losers, because they are all now very successful and beautiful people, un derserving of such a title) friends would escape to little forgotten corners of our very huge school, (which might I add had a HUGE Father Fucking Barrer statue, an Alligator pond which had baby crocs that were constantly fed play dough, erasers, pencil shavings and other primary school things, creepy wind chimes hanging from EVERY pillar, 1 huge rock garden complete with red wooden bridge and other ridiculous useless shit..all because our principle was a media crazy whore who wanted her botox mug in the papers.) and get lost in our exploration adventures. Our past time would include sitting round belting out Wilson Philips's rendition of Daniel (which incidentally is the same name of above said boyfriend of sorts from secondary school..hmmm) over and over again and coming up with alternate endings for trashy Sweet Valley High shit. I was truly a sad kid.
Rebellion came about when my mother gave me no more attention as my brother sapped the life out of her, literally. He was a hyperactive kid, a real bundle of joy. A true delight to be around, as compared to her morose sulky daughter with a weight problem.
I took my angst out on botox principle. We were forbidden to touch the flowers in her precious rock garden. One recess, I picked her ixora bushes bare, sat under the red wooden bridge and started stringing them together into necklaces and bangles, all in the hopes of peddling the flower chains to stupid girls for recess money (I had to eat packed recess everyday). Of course I was caught, and was made to wear my designs and stand outside her office. A reminder to all that flowers are not meant to be plucked.
I was always reminded of how small and worthless I was in Primary school, surrounded by the cheerleaders, teacher's pets, student leaders... They somehow always went out of their way to make me feel unwanted. I told myself, never again will I be surrounded by trash talking fakes. I learnt that life is cruel at very early age.
Work has remided me the world still is a cruel and plastic place. On the flip side, it has taught me to appreciate people as individuals. It has also taught me to wear my mask proudly, play the game and go home to what's real and genuine. Hold close the genuine few and smile and banter with the rest. Life is indeed a stage.
Slaves to communication
Black and White
How long more?