Saturday, October 12, 2002, 07:57 a.m.

I am officially dumped.

Saturday, September 7, 2002, 08:52 a.m.

It's been two days since applications of entry for the school I want to attend next year closed. So much for that pipe dream. For now, anyway, I suppose.

Can I really write for a living? I mean, is it better off left as a hobby when I'm not doing my "real job"? Truth be told, I can't imagine anything other than writing being my real job. Am I good enough to write full time?

I am now old enough to apply for Big Brother. And yes, I do believe I have a good chance of getting a place. They'll never find another loser as crazy as I am this side of the Pacific. Ahhh, I can already see my face appearing before commercicials, on the website, on various tacky pieces of merchandise. Fast, easy money. Perfect job, I must say.

We'll call it Plan B. Or Plan BB3, if you will.

Wednesday, August 28, 2002, 01:50 p.m.

I have to write TWO scripts for submission to the school I want to apply for, by the 5th of September. I'm halfway through one, but I HATE it, and I don't know if it's going anywhere or not. I DON'T HAVE THE TIME OR THE SANITY TO DEAL WITH THIS RIGHT NOW.

I am so hungry.

"Ariana Ross, this card aknowledges your enrolment for Federal, State and Local Government elections." Woo hoo. I think. I've been eighteen for eleven days now, and not much has changed. Drew and I went in to a bottle shop, and picked up some grog, and we weren't even asked for I.D. I went to the video store, excited about finally being able to get all those R movies I've always wanted to see, only to end up with a couple of MA's. But the bank is giving me a debit card. That's pretty cool. I think.

I could always get online porn.

Saturday, August 24, 2002, 04:16 p.m.

What a crazy, crazy week. Umm..

Sunday, August 18, 2002, 08:53 a.m.

Auuugh. Last night was a lot of fun. But now I don't feel so good. Every couple of minutes, I remember something silly I did, and I giggle.

Oh my god. Mr. Boyfriend rang the restaurant I went to, and asked them to do something special for me (they gave me a slice of cake..yum), and the entire staff knew about it, and appearantly they were WATCHING me like HAWKS. But oh my god you don't know the best bit - so the waiters knew who I was, he said "She'll be at a table of about 5, she has long brown hair and she's the most beautiful woman in the restaurant" and the guy goes "hold on", and he comes back a few seconds later and says "I know exactly who you're talking about".. how FUCKING AWESOME is THAT?!?

I have to go to my aunt's for a birthday lunch, and my head is killing me. Last night I said to Nicole that skulling would be easy shit, but she didn't believe me because I've never actually done it before, so then I DID it, and she was very impressed.

I'm really sorry. I shouldn't be swearing so much. And all my "ohmigawd, i got SOOO drunk" talk is very boring so I have to go get ready now. I love you, bye bye.

Thursday, August 15, 2002, 08:46 a.m.

1. You're at a restaurant with a friend, and he is in the restroom when the food arrives. There are french fries on his plate (or something else that you like). Do you take some before he comes back? If so, do you tell him? Well I presume I have my own fries to pick at.

2. That "I'll have what she's having" line from When Harry Met Sally: Inspired or tired? Sublime or asinine? Once was inspired but give it a rest already.

3. You break it, you buy it? - or - You break it, you run away? I wouldn't break it in the first place. I'm a good girl, I am. But if I absolutely had to, I'd probably run because I am po'.

4. Which sucks the most: emptying the dishwasher; putting away the groceries; folding the laundry? Emptying the dishwasher.

5. Anna Nicole Smith: "I still say the overinflated harlot has a pretty face" or "Face?" I reckon if she toned up a little, lost the ridiculous breasts, put in a less trashy hair colour, and took to some tasteful make up, she'd be quite a looker.

6. You wake up before your "significant other" and see that the dog/cat/baby did his "business" in the middle of the living room floor. Do you sneak back into bed and pretend you didn't see it, knowing that your S.O. will be up in five minutes and thus take care of it? I'd like to think I'd be nice and clean it up myself but in truth, I'd pretend to be asleep.

7. Jan or Marcia? Jan. Just as attractive as Marcia, with personality to boot.

8. Cake: Eat with your hands or with a fork? (And don't tell me you don't eat cake, or I'll have to toss you into a windowless, dank basement along with the people who say they don't ever watch TV.) With a fork.

9. Name one article of clothing that you cannot live without and one you wouldn't be caught dead wearing. Underwear. I wouldn't be caught dead in a g-string.

10. Caffeine: friend or foe? Special occasions.

11. Raisin Bran as a snack: Eat whatever comes out of the box, or root around for more raisins? Root around for the raisins.

12. What's the best thing you've ever stolen from work? (If you think you've never taken anything, then where the hell did you get that nice Razorpoint pen with the company logo that you keep in the kitchen junk drawer?) I'd say it was a book of sheet music for the piano in primary school. Or the many snacks I stole while working at the movie theatre.

Listening to: toshack highway - valentine number one

Wednesday, August 14, 2002, 11:53pm

Last night I was in sheer panic. I no longer have control over anything in my life. I sat outside in my backyard, at 10pm, in the fetal position. I'd say it was probably the lowest I've ever felt but I'm sure I've felt worse. This morning I could barely get out of bed. I was mis-er-uh-bul. I'm feeling better now, sort of, now that I'm at school, and I have ordinary day to day life to distract me.

The thing is, last night, Mr. Boyfriend and I were having a serious discussion about certain skeletons in our closet that we are not ready to share yet. He mentioned the fact that he has quite a few, but nothing major, and gave some examples of what major skeletons would be, one of which I happen to have. It wasn't so much that he gave the impression that it was a horrible skeleton to have (although he probably does think that way) - but the fact remains that it's mine, and I have to deal with it, and I don't know how he'll deal with it when we do share our secrets. Hell, even I don't know how to deal with my skeletons.

Hmm. Anyway. Birthday countdown, three days. Still no plans. E-mail me with suggestions.

Listening to: elvis presley - conversation

Tuesday, August 13, 2002, 12:49 p.m.

Today was a beautiful sunny day, and I've just been blobbing about the house turning in to a.. well, blob. When them hunger pains inevitably started kicking in, I made myself a delicious sandwich, and the most delicious vanilla milkshake in the entire world. No, you can't have any. Seeing as it was a beautiful day, I chose to eat outside, in the backyard. I wandered over to the large blue wicker chair which nobody sits in, through knee length grass might I add (we need to mow the lawn..NOW), and attempted to climb in to it. I placed my foot down on the seat, preparing to put my arms on the arm rests and pull myself into the chair. Except that, appearantly, all that exposure to the weather hath made the chair weak as tissue - or I'm just a big fat ass, because my foot went RIGHT through the wicker, SNAP, and into the ground below. I instantly pulled my leg up, fearing the snakes and spiders that may be hibernating beneath it. I worried my butt would only further the damage, but all was good. I sat down.

What was meant to be a relaxing lunch in my backyard wasn't so great. I was sitting on a broken wicker chair, which threatened to collapse under me, in knee length grass, with the sun shining directly in my eyes. So I went back inside and sulkily ate my lunch in the cold, dark kitchen. Bah.

Guess whose birthday it is on Saturday. Mine. Cool. It's my 18th, so it has to be a big deal or whatever, 100 people in my backyard with a fridge full of beer or a big dinner at some really flash restaurant. Now, I'm going to be realistic. I am not popular enough to get even more than 15 people to come to my party. Everyone I ask will say they'll come, but later think "well, I do have to wash my hair tonight, and I don't know Ariana that well, so maybe I shouldn't go, I mean it won't matter if I'm the only one not there" but of course everyone will think that way, and no one will come. And as for the flash dinner, well, I'm poor - and the custom is that my mum pays for everyone to have dinner. Except I'd rather have a good present rather than a nice dinner even though it'd be nice to get dressed up.

The downfall of having a really great boyfriend is that everybody loves them. Mr. Boyfriend was very popular in high school, and tells me of all the things he used to get up to, such as his 18th birthday and so forth, and honestly expects me to replicate these events like I have 50 people who would drop everything for me at the drop of a hat. Moron.

Listening to: friend/enemy - i'd rather be high than fucked anyday

Sunday, August 11, 2002, 12:55 p.m.

Man, last night was hot. It's supposed to be winter (I'm assuming whoevfer is reading this is most likely from North America or England, so just to clear this up, we celebrate Winter in Australia June through August). Last night I took off my flannel pyjama pants. About an hour later, I woke up, feeling like I was going to suffocate in the heat. I got up, and removed a blanket. I opened the windows (I usually keep them closed because the noise outside drives me crazy), I removed my flannel pyjama top and put on a summer tee. Back in to bed I get. I managed to sleep peacefully, but I still felt I was being baked when I woke up this morning.

I can't stand this. These summer relapses. I HATE the heat, and I truly think summer is just a big myth created so when people complain about the heat, they can take comfort in the fact "well, atleast it's summer". But now I'm at the point in my life when summer vacation doesn't exist anymore, so what's so great about summer?

All I do is complain. I should stop that.

Wednesday, August 7, 2002, 06:55 p.m.

I feel sad. Unmistakably sad. Maybe a little angry.

No, too sad to feel angry.

TODAY IN REVIEW

CONS
General bitchy negative attitudes from pretty much everyone. What is WITH everyone today??
Bitchy negative attitude from Mr. Boyfriend. Definate con.
Three exams. Two that clashed. One I wasn't prepared for. Fuck that.
Attemtping to run to an exam I was late for in high heels.
Dropping my props on stage while performing.

PROS
Performance was heaps of fun, despite dropping props.
Nobody cared that I dropped the props.
After being seen in my costume, the school unanimously decided for me that I have VERY nice legs.

That's it. Kinda sucks. Still, the performance was great.

Wednesday, August 7, 2002, 05:15 p.m.

I was so bored during my exam yesterday, I started scribbling little thoughts on a scrap piece of paper. Here's most of it..

Thomas is wearing funny socks. They are yellow.
Hugh is going to the bathroom.
The following people have also gotten up during the exam to use the bathroom: Patrick, Lydia, Tobias, Roberta, Max, Nicholas, Katie, Michael, Peter, Dimitri, Alana, Daniella, Rosie.
In front of me sits Hugh. His hair is black and messy. Like his handwriting. He's leaving a lot of blank answers. Like me. I've known him since year seven. He's always been strange.
To my right is Daniella. She is doing a geography exam. She looks to be extremely organised with what she's doing. But then, that's just the sort of person that she is.
Sitting diagonally north east is Holly. She has long blonde hair and nice legs. Hate her. But she's really nice, so I hate her more.
I have nice legs. But I hate shaving them and I don't like my feet.
Holly has with her a bottle of water and a yellow highlighter.
Daniella has a black pencil case. Classy.
Hugh has his cap placed on the desk.
My head hurts.
I have 'Go West' by the Pet Shop Boys stuck in my head.
Somebody should unplug that bell.
I'm starving.

Monday, August 5, 2002, 08:37 p.m.

I hate my script. I hate everything I've ever written. BAAAAAAAAAAH!! *Breath breath breath*

Sunday, August 4, 2002, 08:34 p.m.

I just started writing a novel. I am an official moron.

Sunday, August 4, 2002, 10:43 a.m.

<male4u> hey looking for fun? then talk to me - i am a male escort in sydney - full service available
<Ariana> hey i remember you
<male4u> oh?
<male4u> how are you this morning?
<Ariana> i'm well thank you and yourself?
<male4u> great
<Ariana> how's business
<male4u> my name is matt - you are Ariana?
<Ariana> yes
<male4u> good
<male4u> going to europe in a week
<Ariana> oh cool where will you be going?
<male4u> all over
<Ariana> just for fun?
<male4u> fun and working
<Ariana> work?
<male4u> escorting
<male4u> where in sydney are you?
<Ariana> lane cove
<Ariana> we talked on the phone before
<male4u> oh ok
<male4u> you are the shy one?
<Ariana> yeah that's me
<male4u> well i am free today Ariana
<Ariana> i'm busy today
<male4u> you dont have to be shy forever :)
<male4u> are you alone now?
<Ariana> yeah
<male4u> till when?
<Ariana> til half an hour..i'm meeting some friends
<male4u> excuses
<Ariana> no really i am
<male4u> how about later?
<Ariana> i'll be free about 3 o'clock
<Ariana> but i still think i might give it a miss
<male4u> ok
<male4u> lol
<male4u> just call me for a massage then
<Ariana> lol we'll see
<male4u> so why are you so shy?
<Ariana> i just am..can't explain something like that
<male4u> how old are you again?
<Ariana> 19
<male4u> you have my number?
<Ariana> yeah
<male4u> tell me?
<Ariana> your number?
<Ariana> **********
<male4u> ok
<male4u> i am only here till next firday
<Ariana> i have to go now
<male4u> cool
<male4u> but do call ok?
<Ariana> we'll see

Sunday, August 4, 2002, 08:15 a.m.

Last night was Tara's birthday dinner. A few of us arrived together, quite early, at 10 past 6. Everyone was to turn up at 6.30, before Tara turned up at 7. Before we arrived, Jessica confirmed that Tas and Halley, the guys Tara's controlling mother had invited, would be there. She was really nervous. As was I. Appearantly, they were really keen on coming. I told Jess that this was a good thing, rather than something to worry about. At 6.30, everyone but Tara, Tas and Halley had turned up. At 5 to 7, we wandered outside in to the garden to wait for Tara to walk in, so we could surprise her. I remember thinking it would be all of us rushing in, screaming, but it turned out we quietly shuffled up behind her. Her back was turned to us, so we all stood there, holding our drinks for a REALLY long time. Mucho funny.

At a quarter past 7, there was still no sign of the guys. I looked at Jess, and Jess looked at me. We both looked at Tara, who had no idea they were even invited. She was having such a happy time. I actually felt kind of sad for her. At 7.30, Halley, whom Tara rather likes, turned up. I felt like screaming. Tara looked like she wanted to disappear under the table. Halley was placed at the head of the table (as he was last to turn up, and there were no other seats), and about 10 minutes later, Drew, who had been talking to Tara's father who was eating outside with Tara's family members, suggested we play a little Musical Chairs. I ended up seated across from Tara, next to Halley. I'm guessing it was an attempt to get them closer together, even though they were still awkwardly placed away from each other.

I don't think they spoke to each other the entire night. I was pretty much the only person there who knew Halley, so I tried my hardest to talk to him, and involve him in the conversation. We had a lot of laughs, and eventually he was comfortable enough to start conversations of his own, which was great. But still, nearly no interaction with Tara. Which, I suppose, is probably a good thing because Tara's controlling mother's whole Jane Austen plan was totally stupid.

Halfway through dinner, a couple sat at the table next to ours. The man had a considerable similarity to Mr. Boyfriend. The woman looked like Mr. Boyfriend's ex-girlfriend. I felt depressed as hell. It brought back old memories of the two of them, and me, watching it all unfold, being asked for advice and never being able to tell Mr. Boyfriend how I felt. Well, that's all in the past now, I guess. Still, it's moments like those when I don't feel like I'm actually living my life - I'm just watching someone else's.

Saturday, August 3, 2002, 01:05 p.m.

For the sake of amusing myself, I've compiled a list of the tapes in my video library. All of these I've taped from the television over the course of about 10 years. Titles with an asterix * were bought retail.

DVD

Yes, it is a pretty disgusting amount. But trust me, it really does come in handy on rainy days and sleepless nights. You should see my mother and brother's collections. Phew.

Saturday, August 3, 2002, 09:07 a.m.

Yesterday I called Drew regarding my oncoming exam, and he told me that I didn't have that exam until Wednesday afternoon, and I won't be having another exam until Tuesday morning, so, lucky me is in the middle of a 5 day weekend! Woo hoo!

Last night I dreamt my mother had to take my mattress outside, and strangely, had to take it out through the window. Now, my windows open outwards, as opposed to up and down, and they can only swing out so far. Plus, I have security bars on my windows. She had to remove two of my window panes, and the bars, to get the mattress out. I got upset with her, because now it would be effortless for intruders to sneak in to my bedroom during the night. She didn't consider this.

Last night was shopping with Jessica, and Joshua who came along because he had nothing better to do. I got Tara this mad candle with sunflowers and butterflies stuck on it. I LOVE it. Jess got her this pretty purple carry bag, and a new top to wear to dinner tonight. Josh laughed at everything, because it was a hippy store. I took a look at a couple more dresses, and found these renaissance type princess dresses. It may be a little over the top, but they're drop dead romantic. I don't know. I'll probably just end up wearing something black and simple. Beautiful yes, but I'm sure everyone else will be wearing the same.

Yesterday some dude kept ringing my mobile phone and hanging up. I wrote down his number (hooray for caller ID) on a slip of paper, and stuck it to a pole on my way home. Ah, why can't I use my powers for good INSTEAD of evil?

Friday, August 2, 2002, 11:38 a.m.

I think I have a photography exam this afternoon. I'm really not too sure. I'll have to ring someone who actually has an exam time table, so I'll know. I should do that soon. God, I'm lazy. Or maybe I'm just so incredibly brilliant that these exams are beneath me. Yeah. That'd be a nice thing to be. For all this week I've been like "yeah, no exams Thursday OR Friday" and this morning I woke up with the horrible feeling that I had to do one today, and it finally hit me that I must have a photography exam. In fact, I'm almost certain. Why even bother calling everyone? I might as well just turn up at 1.30. Although, knowing my luck, the exam was probably at 9.30 this morning. Or, I DON'T turn up at 1.30, and the exam WAS at 1.30. My life works like that, you know. Well, I'm going to go anyway, to meet Jess so we can go shopping.

Tomorrow night I'm going to Tara's surprise birthday dinner. Her mum has it all planned, and has been calling people up to invite them to come along. Should be nice. Except, get this - her controlling mother INVITED a guy Tara has a crush on, and they hardly even know each other. And - I don't believe this - he's actually coming. Even worse, Tara's controlling mother invited a guy that Jessica likes to also come along, and he may. Or he may not. Either way, it's all incredibly awkward and very Jane Austen. Anyway, this afternoon, I'm going to buy her a gift, and look at more dresses for my formal. Yesterday I had my eye on two very nice dresses of the same style - one champagne and the other avacado... oh god, what have I turned in to?

Thursday, August 1, 2002, 09:32 p.m.

So yesterday I'm walking home from the doctor's, in a pretty neutral mood, and all the way home people are smiling at me. Why? I mean, I make eye contact with people I pass quite often, but they don't often smile. Should I not be making eye contact? I mean, it's a lot better than staring at what they're wearing with a total look of disgust like bogan teenage girls do. I like it when people make eye contact back. Maybe it's threatning. I don't know. And what hella crazed vibes was I giving off yesterday to deserve these smile? Man, I am just TOO hot.

Oh please. Like I was really being serious.

So today I went to Hyde Park with Jessica and Marie. They were sketching the sacrifice sculpture, and I was just hanging out. People watching. Making eye contact with them. Kidding. Anyway, we were outside by the reflective pool, and I noticed these mormons wandering around, hassling various people. One mormon attempted to sell Jesus to a running man. Very funny. Don't get me wrong, they're really nice guys, but their preachiness is unnerving, and they're hella funny to watch.

Wednesday, July 31, 2002, 09:46 a.m.

Why do people on IRC always ask me for sex advice?

<me11> hi
<me11> asl
<Ariana> hi
<Ariana> 17 f sydney
<me11> im 14/m/syd
<me11> can we chat
<Ariana> ok
<me11> umm, can i ask u a serious question
<Ariana> sure
<me11> why do girls want guys to lick there cunts
<Ariana> to bring them pleasure?
<me11> oh
<me11> ??
<Ariana> well why else
<me11> i dont know
<me11> a girl wanted me to do it
<Ariana> why do you ask?
<Ariana> oh ok
<Ariana> what did you say
<me11> a girl wanted me to do it
<me11> she asked me to
<me11> i asked her why and she said cos she needed it
<Ariana> did you do it?
<me11> yeah
<me11> i tryed it
<Ariana> you didn't like it?
<me11> it was weired
<me11> it was all wet and hairy
<Ariana> okay
<me11> i thought it would be gross at first but it was ok
<me11> just weired

Wednesday, July 31, 2002, 09:36 a.m.

I feel the need to go shopping even though I have no money. I seem to have this need all the time. Maybe I should get a job. I've been hanging around the bookstore a LOT lately, and I think I would really like a job there. The more I write in this thing, the stronger urge I have to actually write a novel. How off is that? I don't know exactly why it's off, it just is. I never saw myself writing books. But now I want to. I just love books. I can't get away from them these days. Damnit, I need to work at the bookstore.

Tuesday, July 30, 2002, 11:45 a.m.

<sexyguyinSyd> would you like to have sex?
<Ariana> thankyou but no thankyou
<sexyguyinSyd> I have a small cock so it wont hurt you much
<Ariana> ummm sorry no

Tuesday, July 30, 2002, 11:38 a.m.

1 - What do you do for a living?

2 - I'm in high school. I'm 17. I'm unemployed.

1 - You're too young to be unemployed.

2 - Not too young to use irony, though.

Tuesday, July 30, 2002, 09:47 a.m.

I looked at myself in the mirror this morning. I looked different. It was a nice kind of different. I looked older. I looked cleaner. I looked happier. I looked like the kind of person you'd want to approach. It's bizarre how much you can change in a 24 hour period. Sometimes I feel like a chameleon walking on skittles.

I once started a conversation with Mr. Boyfriend with the words "I studied myself in the mirror today.." and he said it sounded like a good start to a David Lynch movie. Very true. Except that the thought finished with an anti-climax: "and I realised maybe it's time I got my hair cut."

Last night I got a call from Jessica's mother, wanting to know if I had heard from her. I told her I'd had exams all day so I haven't seen her at all. Not so long ago, a friend of my brother's went missing, and I was most shocked, as people just don't go missing around here. As it turned out, my brother's friend was just staying with his dad. And, in other good news, Jessica had been in her room all night and no one had bothered to look for her there. I really am thankful that I do live in the kind of place where I can walk around late at night and still get home safe. Am I being too arrogant??

I watched Manhattan the other day. I AM Mariel Hemingway. Not to flatter myself or anything. I just am. Hell, I'd kill to be half as attractive as she is. Woody Allen seems like a nice guy, but I wouldn't ever date him, though.

Saturday, July 27, 2002, 08:44 a.m.

I have two exams on Monday. English and drama. Now, one of the texts I had to have studied was the Fiftieth Gate by Mark Baker. Guess what? I haven't read it. AUUUUGH! says Charlie Brown. We were only told to read the book right before the holidays, and of course I wasn't thinking about it over the holidays. It's been a long week. It is a BEAUTIFUL day outside, and I have to read a fucking massive book by Monday. Not just read. Study. I must memorise quotes. That always gets you big points. The exam is also on King Lear. I've read it a thousand times. However, it would be nice to look over it one more time. Except that my copy of King Lear has gone missing. It had my Leo bookmark in it too, damnit. I don't want to do HSC anymore. Someone help me.

Friday, July 26, 2002, 11:29p.m.

Weeks ago, I wrote my name on a slip of paper and stuck it between old strips of sticky tape on a large telegraph pole. I passed by that pole tonight. It's still there. I pointed it out to my friend Jessica, who thinks my legacy trip is totally insane.

I am tired.

Thursday, July 25, 2002, 10:49 a.m.

IPT again. Great. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother coming to school in the mornings. I really do believe that I could just remain in bed, and it would have pretty much the same effect on my day. On my life, really. The thing is that I really only have one subject (drama) that I really care about, and everything else I do was only done because I can't do six hours of drama a day. Yeah. I wish.

So I have my trial exams next week. Will I study? No. Maybe I am an idiot. But, frankly, studying doesn't provide me with the same rewards as it does everyone else. Maybe it will improve my mark by 5%. Maybe. 5% means shit to me. I mean, sure, if the difference was between 95% and 100%, or if it made the difference between me passing or failing, it'd obviously make a difference. But that's not the case. What frightens me is that by the end of this year, high school will be nothing more than a memory to me. I can throw away every single sheet and book and time table, and have a lot more space in my room to boot. I'll probably never have the same group of people in one space ever again. That's kind of sad. School as a place of unity. Whatever. In a couple of years, maybe even just six months, nobody here will even remember who I am. Most of the people I'll graduate with will only have my yearbook page to remember who I am.

This is my last year of high school, and I am scared.

I don't know what I'm doing next year. I have lots of ideas of what I want to do; it's just matter of making the dreams come true.

I have a lot of regrets. I wish I could have accomplished everything I wanted to accomplish. I wish I could have been more active in school activities. I only started doing drama companies halfway through year 10. I could have taken up a sport.

I have my year 12 formal coming up. I don't know what this means to me. I have my 18th birthday next month. What does THAT mean to me?

Wednesday, July 24, 2002, 04:29 p.m.

Okay, now it's starting to bug me. I'm running all these issues through my head. I HATE feeling this way. It'd be nice if they could put shut-up-and-get-over-it in pill form. Or you're-not-as-bad-as-you-think-you-are in bottles.

Wednesday, July 24, 2002, 04:06 p.m.

Today has been a very strange day. I just had a conversation with Mr. Boyfriend and now I'm feeling kind of sad. I'm a fucking idiot. We didn't argue or anything. But the conversation turned to a girl who he had a crush on years ago, and suddenly I didn't feel like talking anymore. I'm just so disenchanted by my own life, that sharing a life with someone who's led the type of life Mr. Boyfriend has can really spin me out sometimes. This probably isn't making any sense. There's too much of a back story. Mr. Boyfriend has had 100% more partners than I've had which intimidates me. I don't even know what I'm talking about anymore.

Wednesday, July 24, 2002, 12:08 p.m.

I'm in my IPT class. I am on the verge of falling asleep. I had to find a computer with Internet Explorer in order to get my page working because Netscape sucks. No offence, my Netscapians. Somebody has Eminem playing in the background. Today I have to hand in the page I made to be placed in our yearbook. On it I stuck a picture of myself, a photograph I took earlier this year, a drawing of my half heart pendant, and a quote from The Wonder Years I really like:

"Some people pass through your life, and you never think about them again. Some you think about and wonder whatever happened to them - dentist, maybe. Gossip columnist. Divorce lawyer. Some you wonder if they ever wonder what happened to you. Then there are those you wish you never had to think about again. But you do. The truth is, in seventh grade, who you are is what other seventh graders say you are. The funny thing is it's hard to remember the names of the kids you spent so much time trying to impress. But you never forget the ones who made an impression on you."

Wednesday, July 24, 2002, 09:44 a.m.

Today is me and my boyfriend's six month anniversary. I gave him one half of a love pendant. Freakishly, he gave me the same thing. We both gave each other the left sides, so now we both have complete pendants. Obviously they're two different styles, but when you place them together, they almost fit perfectly. Well, if I didn't believe in fate and destiny before, I certainly do now. But I did anyway.

Sunday, July 21, 2002, 05:49 p.m.

<male4u> hey looking for real life fun? i am a male escort in sydney - talk to me
<Ariana> really?
<male4u> yes
<male4u> my name is matt - i am 23 male sydney
<male4u> and you?
<Ariana> how's that for a job? do you like it?
<Ariana> my name is ariana
<male4u> nice to meet you Ariana
<male4u> where in sydney are you?
<Ariana> lane cove
<male4u> ok
<male4u> i can be at lane cove in 25 minutes
<Ariana> how long have you been an escort?
<male4u> 2 years
<Ariana> how did you fall in to it?
<male4u> from a flatmate
<male4u> call me - matt on ****
<male4u> i am available now Ariana
<Ariana> was your flatmate an escort?
<male4u> yes
<Ariana> you haven't even asked me my age
<male4u> how old are you Ariana?
<Ariana> i'm 19
<Ariana> shouldn't you ask all your clients?
<male4u> ok cool
<male4u> yes
<Ariana> where are you in sydney?
<male4u> but i usually confirm it when they call
<male4u> i am based at glebe
<male4u> have you ever seen an escort before Ariana?
<Ariana> no, never
<male4u> ok
<male4u> well let me tell you what the usual format is
<Ariana> okay
<male4u> basically anything you want to do is allowed - and you can modify the format as you like
<Ariana> what do people usually ask for?
<male4u> usually i start with a sensual all over nude body massage - no part left untouched
<male4u> followed my foreplay and finishing with penetration
<Ariana> what do you do for foreplay?
<male4u> usually rubbing your clit sometimes with my penis
<male4u> and oral stimulation
<male4u> also licking other sensative parts
<Ariana> do you have on-call hours where people just call and you pay them a visit?
<Ariana> or is there a place of business where people can visit you?
<male4u> people call me and i visit them
<Ariana> what if you're too busy?
<Ariana> like you're on a family outing?
<male4u> i will usually talk to people - let them know if i am available - and if i'm not then when to call back
<Ariana> that's a pretty good deal
<male4u> or sometimes my phone will be off of i dont want to be disturbed
<Ariana> do you mostly advertise on the internet? how else do people find you?
<male4u> yes mostly here
<male4u> and word of mouth
<Ariana> cool
<male4u> what nationality are you Ariana?
<Ariana> australian
<male4u> ok
<Ariana> irish heritage
<male4u> i am british australian
<male4u> you are home alone now?
<Ariana> yes
<male4u> till what time?
<Ariana> til 6
<male4u> well we just have time if you want to call now
<Ariana> i'm not sure
<male4u> about?
<Ariana> well this is an unusual situation
<male4u> dont be shy Ariana
<male4u> call and say hello - you can decide then
<male4u> i can call you if you prefer?
<Ariana> are you often working?
<male4u> yes
<Ariana> is it tiring?
<male4u> nope?
<male4u> matt on ****
<Ariana> i'll keep your number and i'll think about it
<male4u> ok
<Ariana> do you turn your phone off while you're with a client?
<male4u> depends
<Ariana> well you wouldn't want it going off while you're with them
<male4u> sometimes not - but usually yes
<Ariana> how much do you charge?
<male4u> 120/hour
<Ariana> how many people know about your line of work? like friends and stuff
<male4u> only my ex-flatmate
<Ariana> what do you tell people when they ask what you do?
<male4u> i am busy
<Ariana> cool
<Ariana> do you have to look a certain way to be an escort?
<male4u> not especially - but it helps and being good also helps a lot
<Ariana> good in bed?
<male4u> yes
<Ariana> what about penis size? does that matter?
<male4u> its good to have nice equipment
<Ariana> does it matter if you're circumsised or not?
<male4u> i am cut
<male4u> 7.5" and really nice and thick
<Ariana> is that the average for an escort?
<male4u> no idea
<male4u> i just know about me :)
<male4u> i am very straight - i only see ladies
<male4u> others are bi
<Ariana> do you think if a guy paid you enough you'd do it?
<male4u> nope
<Ariana> even a really well groomed guy?
<male4u> the thought makes me sick
<male4u> i am not attracted to ANY guy - no matter how good looking
<Ariana> fair enough
<Ariana> how many women would you say you've slept with?
<male4u> no idea
<Ariana> how about safety?
<male4u> always use protection
<male4u> i hope that is ok with you?
<Ariana> of course
<Ariana> have you ever contracted anything?
<male4u> nope 
<Ariana> cool
<male4u> i get checked every 3 or 4 months
<Ariana> do you have a boss?
<male4u> nope i earn everything
<Ariana> oh cool, my dream job!
<male4u> well give me a call - now if you like and just say hello
<male4u> that way you wont be nervous when you call for an appointment
<male4u> i can call you if you prefer Ariana?
<Ariana> hmmm
<Ariana> i don't know
<male4u> sure you do :)
<male4u> take some slow deep breathes now
<Ariana> i am tempted but i don't know
<male4u> then do it :)
<Ariana> i'd laugh or something
<male4u> thats ok
<male4u> we can laugh together "_
<male4u> :)
<Ariana> haha
<male4u> you will be too shy if you dont overcome it now Ariana?
<Ariana> maybe i'll call you later
<male4u> dont say maybe - promise yourself :)
<Ariana> well i promise to call you later then
<male4u> but promise yourself more than me Ariana :)
<male4u> i wont let you down
<Ariana> is there a code so you know someone is calling for business?
<male4u> not really
<male4u> just say hello matt - calling to see you
<Ariana> oh ok cool
<male4u> you still there?
<male4u> Ariana?
<Ariana> hi, i'm sorry
<male4u> getting nervous were you?
<Ariana> yeah
<male4u> were you taking deep slow breathes?
<Ariana> yes
<male4u> and still couldn't do it?
<Ariana> still can't
<male4u> i can call you then
<male4u> type your number
<Ariana> it's ok i'll call you
<male4u> type it in and just do it :)
<male4u> i dont bite 
<male4u> (not unless you want me to)
<Ariana> you do s&m?
<male4u> never before - i am open to any proposals you may have?
<Ariana> oh no, i was just interested

I did end up calling the guy some hours later. I was interested in striking up an actual conversation with the guy but, of course, he only had his mind on one thing so I gave up.

Sunday, July 21, 2002, 02:16 p.m.

Going back on what I wrote last - I just found the Serendipity site, on which you'll find a game of 'destiny'. I followed the same path followed by Lucy from Russellville, Kentucky, Jaime from Dover, New Hampshire, and Julie from Chicago, Illinois.

The other night I very bravely wrote my name on a 20 dollar bill (I didn't want to the sales assistant to spot the defamation and refuse me service.. I wrote it inconspicuously in small, red lettering at the bottom of the note) and I now plan to study each 20 dollar bill that passes through my hands. Would writing my name on more and more bills count as cheating seeing as how I'd be escalating my chances of a bill actually returning to me?

I live only 5 minutes from a box factory. This is always an amusing tale to tell someone, seeing as how box factories have become infamous since Bart Simpson went on an excursion to one in The Simpsons. I recently watched Se7en with some friends, and in the last 10 minutes, I was reminded of the box factory. "Not the box factory again, Seymour!" "Hey, that's Gwyneth Paltrow's head in a double-corrugated, eight-fold, fourteen-gauge box!"

Today is not one of my funny days.

Q: How many electricians does it take to fix a lightbulb?
A: I think the real question here is how long it would take, and how much they would charge. Not so funny now, is it?

Friday, July 19, 2002, 01:49 p.m.

The film 'Serendipity' has inspired me. FYI, the film is about two people (Kate Beckinsale and - my hero - John Cusack) who meet on New York night, and click instantly. However, they are both attached, and wisely choose not to follow through with their romantic plans. Instead, they leave it to destiny, by leaving their names and numbers on a dollar bill and a used book, which are then put into circulation. When those objects return to them, they'll know the time is right.

The premise of the movie sucked me right in. I've always been fascinated with seeing things like 'Callie loves Zane' carved into school desks - anything that leaves behind a legacy (Found is like my place of worship) - and I'm also a strong believer in fate and destiny. Okay, I suck.

Yesterday I wrote down my name on a slip of paper while on the bus, and left it behind me as I got off - waiting for the next person who happened to sit there. (Would you believe the bus passed by a truck with the word 'Serendipity' on it while I was writing my name down?... I know!!) I wrote my name on a small packet of sugar while in a coffee shop.

I wrote my name and the following words on the back of a book receipt - "Vanilla chillers are awful. Today I filled out my form to vote as I turn 18 next month. I hope you're having a nice day." I got up to leave, to find an appropriate place to leave the note. The receipt fell from my lap, to the floor. As I bent down to retrieve it, I concluded that fate WANTED that note to be left there. I chose not to get in the way of destiny, so I walked away, excited by the idea of who would come across it.

Friday, July 19, 2002, 10:18 a.m.

1 - Don't you just hate it when people look like other people?

2 - Like what other people?

1 - Just other people.