This uni session is finally over; praise that lord, wherever he may be (nowhere lol). The first nine weeks of this semester ate away at my very being, but I have come out the other side, not quite a new person; but perhaps an evolving one.

I had to take a poetry subject, and although it terrified me, it was also very therapeutic and surprisingly cathartic. I think I’ll share some of my poetry with the blogging world.
Firstly, here is a poem I wrote for a different subject. Not so much “wrote” actually, but the task required us to gather quotes and sayings from our immediate world, and construct them into a poem with a message that seemed quintessential of our time period. Here it is.


I asked myself what I felt above all else,
I could think only of loss
of things forgotten though never known,
sacrificed though never held in hand.

Grief is better to keep inside—
working like bees or ants
building curious and perfect structures
complicating you.
Because maybe nothing is
an easy thing to feel,
but a difficult thing to express.

And maybe nothing is chaotic;
because chaos is more freedom;
in fact, total freedom. But no meaning.
I want to be free to act, and I also
Want my actions to mean something.
But sometimes when you have
To sacrifice something precious,
you’re not really losing it, you’re just
Passing it on to someone else.

That’s when you know you’re not alone,
When you know you’re in love.
You can no longer sleep
Because for once, reality
is finally better than your dreams.

They say you know when you know yourself,
You can only ever be yourself because everyone else is
Already taken.
To be yourself in a world that is
Constantly trying to make you
something else
is the world’s greatest accomplishment—
It is better to be hated for what you are
than to be loved for what you are not.

Love looks not with the eyes,
but with the mind,
and therefore is winged
Cupid painted blind.
And let me ask you this—
Have you ever been in love?
Horrible isn’t it? It makes you so vulnerable.
It opens your chest
and it opens up your heart,
And it means that someone
can get inside you and mess you up.
You want to tell everyone and no one—
There is no greater agony than
Bearing an untold story inside you.

Reality continues to ruin
Our lives, but to really live
Is the rarest thing in the world.
Most people exist, that is all.

But there’s no use going back to yesterday,
Because I was a different person then.
I am still my own, I must remember
That I belong to nobody—
Til I look through the mist
And see the shape of you,
And I know. I know,
That I’m in love with you.

My body craves you,
And my soul,
Craves death—
Sadly, it’s the same thing.
Depression is the result
of overthinking,
The mind creates problems
That didn’t even exist.
So, I hope you find someone
that knows how to love you
When you are sad.
Because the world is a mess,
And I want to laugh,
Because all I can thin
is how horrible,
And beautiful it is.



It’s been a while since I wrote anything. Anything at all. It’s been a while since I read anything. I go back to uni next week and I’m excited to be immersed in both sides of the literary practice, but I’m also scared that I won’t read for leisure. What a thing to complain about, hey?

Here’s a poem I stumbled across. Something I wrote down in my notebook during a CACW101 lecture, when I was feeling particularly sad. It has no title.

And it pains me
to know that the moon
is the only soul who
will understand–
for he too, is lonely
like I.
Looking over the others
with curiosity,
always asking,


For someone who claims to have not cared a whole lot about uni (clearly a blatant lie I try to convince myself of) and only doing the bare minimum required, I was pretty busy over the whole exam period. Even though I literally had like, two proper exams. Either way, it’s been well over a month since I’ve completed those exams and those subjects for the rest of my life. Which is exciting, since the first thing I did after completing my final exam was downing a tequila shot and purchasing more than the average human’s necessary quantity of goon.

Point being, I can’t really use exams as a proper excuse for not writing or posting anything. I even managed myself a little position with http://www.thebigsmoke.com.au (which you should really check out, they post some super cool stuff) as a contributing writer in the hopes of expanding and improving my current portfolio. Again, back to the point; I’ve been lazy with writing on a larger scale than just my average little blog you see here. I’ve hardly even submitted anything to my editor, which is really negligent on my behalf, especially since this is an amazing opportunity to boost my career prospects. But worry no more, cause I am back. And hopefully more consistently.

I’ve decided to alter my degree at university (not quite sure whether I mentioned this, and as you recall I’m far too lazy to scroll through old posts and troll for the vague sentence in which I discuss it). This year I undertook study in a double degree of a Bachelor of Journalism and a Bachelor of International Studies. As of next year (if all transferring forms get approved) I will be studying a Bachelor of Communication and Media Studies (majoring in Journalism-Professional Writing) and a Bachelor of Creative Arts (majoring in creative writing). The decision to change degrees was not a difficult one, and it’s not to say that I didn’t enjoy my degree this year. It’s just that I took a real good look at what I wanted in the future. I want to write, I want to read, I want to help stories get out there; be they fictional or not. This new degree will help me achieve that. During a meeting with man who deals with these kinds of situations (he happens to be a Creative Writing lecture, so he was overly stoked in my decision to enter his field), he said to me, “This is a really great degree if you ever wanted to get into publishing and/or editing”, and that was when I knew this was the right choice. “That’s exactly what I want to get into”, I told him.

Soooooooooooo, anyways. I’m trying to get back into some writing. I’ve had ideas bubbling for the past few weeks, and when you forget to write shit down, it usually floats on into the room of requirement, never to be found again.

Today is the 23rd of December, or “Christmas Eve Eve” as we all know and love it. It doesn’t really feel like Christmas to me though. Apart from the obvious, it’s not fucking cold. What’s with that anyways? Like, I know it’s when Jesus was… born? Is that right? But Christmas should be filled with snow and pine trees and big fluffy sweaters. Australia really should’ve changed Jesus’ birthday to June or something. I guess the country doesn’t really have that sort of power though, it would kind of stuff up the system. But this year, my parents aren’t here. I’ve spent Christmas without my father before, just because he’s been occupied with his work situation over in the states, but this year my mother is there with him and us four kids are here, fending for ourselves. It’s not too much of an issue, since my grandmother has promised us a Christmas dinner. Which, allows me the glory of sleeping in after producing what will be one of 2014’s biggest and best hangovers.

However, despite the positive points to this Christmas day, I have one rather large complaint. Why am I in charge of cooking the god damn turkey? Who deemed me capable, responsible, trustworthy enough to cook and tend to the most important aspect of Christmas dinner. My grandmother ordered and purchased a rather large, succulent turkey and delivered it to our house. Myself, my three brothers, all standing there, chatting away as she tells us to place the turkey into the freezer until Tuesday morning (today, thank lordy mae that I remembered), when we should then move it into the fridge to defrost until Christmas morning. We all nodded, “Yes, Barbie, not a problem. We’ve got this covered”.

“Now, Annika”, she says. What? Me? Yeah, okay, what’s up? “I will bring over a list of instructions on how to prepare and cook the turkey on Christmas day, and I’ll come over about an hour before dinner to prepare the other things.”

This sentence was clearly directed at me, and no one else. I am to undertake the domestic housewife role and prepare the three males of the house a feast worth mouthwatering for. I’m gonna put it out there; she’s completely overestimated my abilities.


Remember how way back at the beginning of this post how I made like, a large number of excuses for not writing and publishing any posts whatsoever, no matter how trivial they were? Yeah, so what started out to be a post about pre christmas jitters, turned into something that sat quietly in my drafts folder being like, “yeah sick, you forgot about me because you decided to get high with your friends at the beach. That’s cool man, that’s cool”.

It’a been a month and I’m just gonna shut the fuck up and press post because like, that was a near 900 words of my time. Time to get it into the world and maybe write some other stuff now that work has completely slowed down and I still have a whole month off until uni goes back. Somebody entertain me. Anybody?