Tiger shoot

This is me painted as a tiger... click on it to make it larger...if you dare.

If you do this, I hate you.

I enjoy my job to an extent. It's repetitive but at the same time different not to mention it's easy and I love who I work with.*
Dealing with customers is pretty cruisey...then there's people like this

I hope this blog doesn't turn into incidents at Subway. >__<  Nothing much else exciting to write about yet. But holidays are official next week and I can start growing my hair back from where I've been ripping it out and I'll catch up on sleep and put the weight I lost back on. I was a little stressed this semester...

*They paid me to say that 

Nom nom art

I love art. I have learned to appreciate any type and all types of art. For instance, some twisted metal in the middle of the city may look like an eyesore to some, but I can definitely see the time and effort put into it. I love the way some people have really captured landscapes or even an old building. Often I go to the Gallery of Modern Art in Southbank to see exhibits they have every few months and I often get my money's worth.
The only issue I have and the only type of art I cannot understand are those 'paintings' with the a few spatters of paint thrown onto a white canvas. Or a dot stuck right in the middle. How do these end up in a gallery and sell for thousands of dollars at a time?

Is it really brilliant, fat man? Or are you just wanting money out of this snobby twat? If that can sell, so can the doodles in my tafe books. 

 I drew my Canadian friend, Greg. 

Picture up top very relevant to what we were learning in Bio at the time.

LOLWAT SUBWAY?

So basically I often wonder why customers seem so eager at first to buy Subway, but then back out all of a sudden and choose fatty Red Rooster with it's outrageously overpriced chicken. Sure, we're overpriced, but it's the airport and at least we're a little healthier. Then it occurred to me....what if it's me that's driving the customers away???

 

Yeah, that's probably it.

NO YOU CAN'T HAVE MY DAMN NUMBER

I often find I have a lot of trouble saying 'No' to people. I don't mind going out of my way to help someone and other times I'm scared I'll hurt the person's feelings by saying no. It may have something to do with me not having a a whole lot of confidence.
In particular, when a guy asks for my number and I really don't want to give it to them, I end up saying yes instead of "Well I have a boyfrand." (LIES) I want to slap myself in the face afterwards because

1. For leading this guy on and not lying to him
2. I may end up getting spammed with hundreds of text message and calls. 

I end up writing "Do not answer" or "Creep is calling" in the name field.
I'm also a horrible liar. Not all the time, I can make up a pretty good story but it isn't hard to tell when I'm lying. Often you can tell by the look in my insanely huge eyes or I pull a face which is similar to this...........

There's a gay man at Tafe who has taken a liking to me just because I was nice to him once. He almost seems to follow me around since I see him a lot. I swear I had never seen him before I met him and now I see him more than I see my actual friends. He doesn't seem to notice that his constant presence in my personal space, the way he flamboyantly runs up and hugs me, makes me uncomfortable along the strange sexual things he says. Now the fact that he's gay has nothing to do with why I'm uncomfortable. (that's discriminative and wrong) though might I mention that this guy has a daughter and he is in his 30's. YEAH. He has asked for my number and even my home phone and according to me and anyone else he asks, I don't know my 'new number' and neither does anyone else.

After that I felt no more could be done about the situation and before my phone decided to grow legs and crawl out of my bag shouting "HEY DICKHEAD, SHE'S LYING", I turned around and ran like a bitch. I can only assume he stared after me as I ran, most likely confused as ever.

I suck as a person

Mer has feelings too

I actually don't mind writing blogs. I'll most likely be the worst updater in history, but these days I have a lot of my mind so a blog would be good for me. Facebook used to be the only site (apart from one other, it shall remain ANONYMOUS) that I participated in. I'm not that fantastic at putting things into words. Some of my experiences I can really tell because I have no idea how to collaborate them in appropriate syntax and grammar. So I usually draw pictures of my emotions, experiences into comics, what not and so on.

This is my happy drawing. The middle looks like the Channel 2 ABC logo. That wasn't intentional.

It takes a lot for me to get angry. I usually just keep it in, try not to think too much of what isn't important, but when I do get angry, it only really takes something small to set off that little ball of fire that has been burning up inside of me. I'm not good at telling my feelings until really it's a little too late and i end up taking it out on someone who doesn't deserve it. I'm on medication for it and I don't rage as much when I'm on them.

My spiral of deep depression. Usually coincides with anger. I don't really get 'sad' when I'm depressed. The depression spiral hasn't appeared for a while, I'm almost afraid of it. Although lately, I've been feeling let down and hurt but I try to fill my life with this next emotion.

This is how I feel when I see a kitty. BY GOLLY I DO LOVE CATS. Probably a little bit too much...and I know how you weirdos think, I mean it doesn't mean whose cat it is, when I see a cat I'm instantly filled with this joy. Cats are pretty damn amazing. C.A.T.S - Comfort and Trouble Sharing all over the world.

So they are just basically what I could think up of. I've tried drawing love but I had trouble describing what I had drawn. It was like some sort of demented looking heart. There wasn't really much going for me when it comes to drawing intimate love. I have only been truly in love once and my experience with it ending wasn't a pleasant one. I know! I'll pull a Queen Elizabeth I and become a born again virgin!
Love that I have for my friends and family are different and should obviously look different but haven't drawn that either because I'm lazy. 

Lately the past has been nagging at me and it's a problem that's not worth dealing with and if I did, it would stir shit up even more. It's almost like standing in a crowded room and screaming at the top of your lungs and no one even looks at you. Why don't they hear me?? It doesn't bother me as much as it used to but sometimes in my head, bad things happening to those people is the only rational solution. Of course I'm not actually going to do anything but it's that fricken bad that the thought of a train running over this problem is HILARIOUS. I don't trust anyone with any sort of personal information I don't want to be spread around like wild fire. Lesson learned I guess. Only trust cats with secrets and don't rely on people to be there for you when you're feeling at your worst.

tl;dr I have trouble sharing emotion and I hate people.

Thanks for reading, I know it was long.

My Brother Lindley

Someone I don't talk nearly enough about is my little brother.

This strapping young lad is my little brother, Lindley. Or as he likes to be called "Mr Lin Dixon." He's going through this incredibly irritating phase of despising his full first name and will instantly correct you with shouting "NO" at you and thrusting a firnger at his chest exclaiming "I'm Mr LIN DIXON."

Strange? Maybe. but we're more than lucky that Mr Lin Dixon can speak full sentences at all. Lindley is Autistic with a whole bunch of other neurological disorders and is basically our miracle child. He's a motocycle enthusiast and his favourite items of clothing include this old leather bikers jacket that smells like onions and his pair of sunnies he wears on top of his head which gets swallowed up by his curly mop of hair.

He also loves 60's music and  call tell you the song and the artist only a few seconds into the first bars of a song. We get along fine. We hardly have any issues but I'd just love to wack him over the back of the head at times. He maybe special but he's still capable of being a jerk. 

Life was hard for him growing up of course and his guarding angels are definitely our parents. With all his success he's had along with challenges, he's leaves an imprint on the people who've encountered him and often people never remember me, let alone my name. I'm referred to as "Rhonda's other offspring" or "their daughter," "I think her name is Marilyn" and my favourite, "Lindley's sister." Most encounters with these people go like this...

It's irritating when even your old primary school staff only remember you as being Lindley's sister. But in the end, he'll always be my closest friend. He's the most genuine person I know and never as anything bad to say about anyone. He's a pretty cool guy and doesn't afraid of anything

The End

HOW I SURVIVED

You may or may not have heard me whinging about not having a lot of money lately. I'm sure the people who have to listen to it everyday is getting pretty sick of it by now. Don't worry guys, I worked today and I have another Care Time job tomorrow. That's a little extra cash in my empty spendings account. Yey. Being broke, I haven't really been food shopping lately. I have pretty much living off vegemite, crackers and bread, plus whatever Jake has at his place. Today I was craving some mac and cheese or even Mi Goreng which I'm sick of. I WAS HUNGRY. But low and behold, my half of the cupboard was empty except for them crackers which wouldn't fill this hole in my stomach that I had at the time. 

So I raided my piggybank (which is a ladybug btw) and took $3 in silver with me and set off to Woolworths. Upon approaching the little hill by the school, my happy Friday morning stroll to the place of food where my mac and cheese sat, was rudely interrupted by this flutter I heard above my head and I felt my hair being pulled slightly. I came to my senses and looked up. Some dickbag magpie decided that I was its current threat to its nest and I must be punished immediately for even coming within 100 000 feet of its precious eggs.

It landed on the fence and stared at me for a while with its beak open. I flipped it off and kept walking but not really to my surprise, it hadn't finished putting its point across and decided to swoop me again. This time, I decided to take action. It went a little something like this. 

I ran across the road with this little twat chasing after me. Once on the other side, however, it had stopped and returned to it's perch on the fence waiting for its next unexpecting victim. I continued on my way, feeling a little weary that it might decide it still hadn't finished and try another swoop but it didn't and I ended up going and getting my preservative filled brunch without any further issues. I decided to take a different route home, avoiding the little hill next to the school completely. I'm a wuss. But i survived.