Setting the Scene

So it’s close to 2am. Well more like 11:30pm but 2am sounds way more exciting and full of romantic tension.

I wake up to the sound of my phone ringing.

No Caller ID

If this is virgin mobile calling me I’m going to be raging.

Hello? 

Hey, What you up to?

Sleeping, why? 

I’m sorry

Sorry for what? 

For being a jerk

When were you a jerk?

I just was

Click.

And that was the highlight of my week. Obviously I’m hoping it was a certain lost lover that was apologising for not calling. But on another obvious note it was clearly a drunk dial wrong number from someone who has no romantic interest in me what so ever. And now I have this really irritating frustration of wanting to know exactly what happened and why why why I was the person to receive such a call and if it was indeed said romantic interest.

Right now I really need to hit something.

Rant Rant Rant

I wanted to have this rant on facebook but I fear that there are far too many uneducated and misinformed people on there to fully understand what I want to explain in this.


I live in Australia, and I’m sure most of you would have seen the events that have unfolded over the last week in Sydney where a man (this man) held a city to a standstill from the inside of a cafe. While I do not want to take away from the events that happened that day and the people that lost their lives to something that in my opinion could have been so easily avoided.

My problem is that, this man, who late last year was charged with being an accessory to the murder of his ex-wife and mother of two. And more recently was charged with a raft of offences in relation to indecent and sexual assault while operating as a self-proclaimed “spiritual healer” in Sydney’s west more than a decade ago, was allowed to live, shop, and go about his so called business without a hassle.

But at the same time men like my father, a scottish (shrek like) individual, who due to work is required to live in Jakarta, Indonesia, is not allowed to come home for Christmas. A man who has no criminal offences, who pays taxes, respects the government and has never once been “known to the police” is not allowed to visit his family, But a man with a rap sheet as long as his arm is?

Where did this government go so wrong? When did they get so lax and unobservant that they have to question a regular tax paying country loving family if they can prove they’re citizenship, but let a man who possibly murdered his own wife and raped women for years live in completely comfort?

I miss my dad. I want to see him again. But because this government is so insistent on letting in these apparent “asylum seekers” my dad won’t be home for Christmas. Call me selfish, call me ignorant, call me anything you like. But every little girl deserves to see her daddy at Christmas, especially when you’re dad is more father christmas than turban clad terrorist.



Holla

My Advent

Day 1 – Ginger Bread House (the Ikea build your own kind)

Day 2 – Argan Oil

Day 3 – Two Blocks of Chocolate

Day 4 – One Block of Chocolate

Day 5 – Two Pens

Day 6 – One Block of Chocolate (I think my mum is trying to tell me something)

Day 7 – Pens

Day 8 – Paintbrushes

Day 9 – Paint

Day 10 – Paintbrush

Day 11 – Nail polish

My mum made my advent calendar (it’s like a blanket with little stockings on it) and although at first it started with chocolates and stickers, it then evolved to anything my mum could stuff into the tiny socks. And eventually to her hanging numbers off of string that corrolated to the presents sitting below. And this year, well this year it got to the point of her putting a basket of 24 presents below the calendar and declaring I could open any which one I chose (although I seem to horrify her every morning by picking the wrong ones)

<3

If you’re standing with your suitcase
But you can’t step on the train
Everything’s the way that you left it
I still haven’t slept yet

And if you’re covering your face now
But you just can’t hide the pain
Still setting two plates on the counter but eating without you

If the truth is you’re a liar
Then just say that you’re okay
I’m sleeping on your side of the bed
Goin’ out of my head now

And if you’re out there trying to move on
But something pulls you back again
I’m sitting here trying to persuade you like you’re in the same room

And I wish you could give me the cold shoulder
And I wish you could still give me a hard time
And I wish I could still wish it was over
But even if wishing is a waste of time
Even if I never cross your mind

I’ll leave the door on the latch
If you ever come back, if you ever come back
There’ll be a light in the hall and the key under the mat
If you ever come back
There’ll be a smile on my face and the kettle on
And it will be just like you were never gone
There’ll be a light in the hall and the key under the mat
If you ever come back if you ever come back now
Oh if you ever come back if you ever come back

Now they say I’m wasting my time
‘Cause you’re never comin’ home
But they used to say the world was flat
But how wrong was that now?

And by leavin’ my door open
I’m riskin’ everything I own
There’s nothing I can lose in a break-in that you haven’t taken

And I wish you could give me the cold shoulder
And I wish you can still give me a hard time
And I wish I could still wish it was over
But even if wishing is a waste of time
Even if I never cross your mind

I’ll leave the door on the latch
If you ever come back, if you ever come back
There’ll be a light in the hall and the key under the mat
If you ever come back
There’ll be a smile on my face and the kettle on
And it will be just like you were never gone
There’ll be a light in the hall and the key under the mat
If you ever come back, if you ever come back now
Oh, if you ever come back, if you ever come back

If it’s the fighting you remember or the little things you miss
I know you’re out there somewhere so just remember this
If it’s the fighting you remember or the little things you miss
Oh just remember this, oh just remember this

I’ll leave the door on the latch
If you ever come back, if you ever come back
There’ll be a light in the hall and the key under the mat
If you ever come back
There’ll be a smile on my face and the kettle on
And it will be just like you were never gone
There’ll be a light in the hall and the key under the mat
If you ever come back, if you ever come back now
Oh, if you ever come back, if you ever come back

And it will be just like you were never gone
And it will be just like you were never gone
And it will be just like you were never gone
If you ever come back, if you ever come back now


Verryyy much my feelings of this morning. It’s like my mental state ebbs and flows like the tides. Is that a thing or am I just a little over thinking this?? I seem to have this horrendous habit of have the most dramatic love life. Even though at the moment I’m a sexy single pringle shit still seems to be way over my head in levels of complicated drama. I’m literally dodging and diving and hiding and looking a little too much like Ariana Grande’s face as she gets bashed by a VS babe.
My friends at work actually joke about how their lives never ever seem as bad after they’ve talked to me. Thankfully I can laugh about this but come on! My life isn’t that bad! It totally wasn’t my fault the guy turned out to have a long term girl friend and was just being a genuinely nice human being and it CERTAINLY wasn’t my fault that he turned out to be WAY WAY WAY too young Or is it?
Although I really really should be painting rather than ranting about my love life and how abismally hillariously sadly pathetic it is at this moment.


as much as I can't stand this pint sized pop "star" this face directly matches my feelings.

as much as I can’t stand this pint sized pop “star” this face directly matches my feelings.

On another point of procrastination isn’t this little Sherlock/Moriarty moment just amazing? I just want to stare at it. All. Day. Long. And lastly there is this glorious little harry pottery bit of Tumblr business.

Just Yes <3