oooh, pretty.
guess who has a new layout?
i think it's adorable.
and i really wanted a change.
this is it.
and the things on the side are clickable!
so the c-box is now under tagboard.
you probably could've worked that out.

med interview was so good.
i was a lot calmer than last time.
i didn't get any of the questions i expected to.
and it was really short.
i was the first person called in again.
which is getting really annoying.
it happened at unsw as well.
so we pretty much talked about
1. why medicine?
2. experience?
3. teamwork?
4. stress?
5. scenario - boy dies from passive inhalation.
6. detech - the pH scale.
7. active listening - irina the ballerina.
i felt really professional and i didn't sound too stupid.
and i just told them everything.
i decided not to hide.
which is a major deal for me.
i just feel really good about it.
i could've done better, but i'm not falling into that trap.

i might be seeing hsm3 tomorrow
ZAC EFRON BABY.
okay, that's something you don't say in public, yeah?
damn.

um, poetry, right.
i hate making promises like this.
and then having to keep them.
sigh.

i was looking at my old work today,
the blogs, the poems, from when i was
with you, and i couldn't believe what i wrote.
it's not that i thought myself foolish for loving you,
i can forgive myself for that mistake,
it's that i changed for you, blamed myself
for your flaws just to keep us together,
claimed the silence was my fault, took the fall
for the lack of trust between us when it wasn't me
who was saying stupid things, i never said that
i never loved you, that i wouldn't bleed
if you walked away from me, that you should
push your boundaries just a little bit further
for my own physical gratification, no,
but i let myself think that. and i cried, i cried
when it was over? well, now, i believe
that we have to mess up to realise just
how strong we are, how beautiful we are,
and, through all the pain you blessed me with,
i can kick you in the balls with no regret.

leave the last line alone.
i like it.

peace out and God bless.

lovelove, jess xxxx

so, med interview in thirteen hours.
yayness.
i feel like i should prep.
but i don't know where to start
or if my heart's really in it.
i feel kinda bad though.
2078 people put med as their first preference.
about 3000 had it as a preference at all.
and somehow i'm in the top 500
and doubting whether i want this.
me? a doctor?
everything i know i learnt from scrubs.
i'm scared.
because i don't know if this is where i'm supposed to be
but how do you give up on the only thing you ever dreamed of?
medicine, if we're continuing with the relationship metaphors.
is the best friend who you never really felt you deserved,
but who still gives you opportunities
and a chance to redeem yourself,
and you feel guilty for wanting to say no,
so you don't.
you keep going until they reject you
because you don't want to hurt them.
okay, jess. enough with the metaphors.

"being a doctor is about learning to deal with the unexpected."

thank you j.d.

what if i panic again?
but i'm not alone this time.
i'm not on foreign territory.
i have aditi who will be calm.
and i will steal her tranquillity.
and...what if i see a certain someone?
what if i'm out of luck and can't keep running from the past?
i'll curse gay.

sigh.
i think this is proof i want it.
i wasn't scared about bond because i didn't want it.
but...monash is my last hope.
it's this or nothing.
and i have to pray that, for once in my life, i'm good enough.

I CAN DO THIS.
i owned the umat.
i can talk.
i am sociable.
i am happy.
i am strong.
i am confident in who i am.
i am a compulsive liar.

okay, i lied with the last one.

i believe that no matter what you do,
you can't hurt me from where you are,
so emotionally distant, so far away,
no ties between us, your name no longer
inducing fear, the thought of you
no longer confronting, and i'm safe here,
secure in my past, in my present, and you,
you're not in my future, i know that,
and knowledge is power, liberation,
and a million reasons not to go back to you.

well, i said i'd write a poem a day
and even if that sucks ass
i've done it.

peace out and God bless.

lovelove, jess xxxx

i used to be afraid of feeling empty.
of having that hollow pit inside my stomach that kept me up at night.
but now i've realised my only fear is not feeling anything at all.
i was talking to liz today, and, as everyone knows, i'm only really good at talking about three things.
1. life.
2. grades/school.
3. screwed up relationships.
so, of course, jess got into a bit of a rant about certain people.
probably not aided by the year elevens from a certain school on the tram.
but it scared me that, while i was talking about it, i felt nothing.
i was just so detached from it - and i think that's worse than emptiness.
emptiness kills, but you know you're alive.
nothingness - it's like being emotionally dead.
i could think about anything right now
about the worst moments in the relationship
and the most i'd feel is - 'oh, right.'
okay, so that's not entirely true.
maybe 'psht, yeah, he's a dick'
and then that would be it.
I'M NOT USED TO FEELING NOTHING.
i'm used to being the most strung out, emotional person everrrr.
well, thsi has to be better than hatred, yeah?
except it's killing my play, yo!
i need to have my heart broken again.
any takers?
okay. so that has to be the weirdest request ever made.
then again, without those sort of requests
we wouldn't have any bdsm.
and the sex industry would die.
we're all very concerned about that. *rolls eyes*

on the up side, i tried to write a poem.
and then realised that i couldn't.
because essentially, i'd be lying to myself.
it started with 'i tried to tell myself i'm over you'
and well, yeah, i sort of completely am.
it kills me to say this
but peterson is right. we all make it in the end.
so i'm ready for the next phase of my life.
i'm ready for whatever God gives me next.
mm, i think that this has been the entrée.
and now bring on the main meal.
again, jess is making silly metaphors
and her mind is misconstruing them as innuendos.
the fact that i struggled to spell that word scares me.
you'd think i'd be good at it by now.

okay. now for important messages.
LIZ. I KNOW YOU'RE READING THIS.
WATCH GOSSIP GIRL TOMORROW NIGHT.
and then we can
bitch about dan
fangirl over chuck
see ourselves in the characters
discuss.

aiyoh. i think i promised myself that i would write a poem a day.
three days and i'm already running out of inspiration.
INSPIRE ME.

ooh, quizzy thing.

Your rainbow is intensely shaded violet, orange, and red.
What is says about you: You are a passionate person. You appreciate a challenge. Others are amazed at how you don't give up. You are patient and will keep trying to understand something until you've mastered it.

and why won't it center?
AIYOH LAH.
it originally had a graphic
and was cooler
but html hates me lah.

there we go.
i feel better now.
see? SCRUBS IS GOOD FOR ME.
or maybe it's just the forced poetry thing.
SEE MUSEY BABY! WHO'S IN CHARGE NOW?
and why does that conjure up bad thoughts in my head?
oh, right.
because that's how my mind is wired, word.
and i think that's enough for me.
jess needs to prep for monash.
or she is really screwed.
and will wind up doing like...finance next year.
which would kill her.
muchly.

peace out and God bless.

lovelove, jess xxxx

okies, i just got back from my coffee with mel.
it was so so so so amazing.
we're actually pretty similar.
apart from the fact we share the same blood.
which i think was one of those unnecessary things that you don't have to state.
but which i stated anyway.
because you know, i'm like that.
but it was so good seeing her again
she's like the big sister i always wanted.
and yes, i sound pathetic and cliché
but she makes me happy.

okay, so i'm forcing myself to write a poem a day.
just to make future publication easier.
because i'll actually have something to publish.
chyeah. i've got the title planned out already.
now i just have to write the stuff that goes in it.
and proof it.
and make it wonderful.
and design a cover.
and then i'm set.
oh, and make someone like it.
which is hard.
since, unless your name is bruce dawe, there's not exactly a market for poetry.
not in australia anyway.
sigh. if only i were the pope.
he had a book of poetry published!
sure, it was after he died...okay, not so good.
anywho, i am a poet and i know it.
just channel my inner bruce dawe...
*channels*
i just feel like all my writing is the same in topic.
but it's an exploration of a theme!
it just needs more diversity.
i need to have more flexibility.
which means i need more experience.
but what else is there to experience?
maybe i need to live with a certain mindframe.
or while listening to the right sort of music.
like the jobros, yo~

and i hate having a phrase in my head
and nothing to link it to.
annoying much?

yes, i lied to save myself,
making it all up to run away,
it was nothing to do with wanting to stop,
no connection to slowing it down,
i couldn't give myself to you
because i never trusted you, when
i was down you were never my port of call,
and though you claimed to be there for me,
though you pleaded to be my rock, my saviour,
to protect me from the evils of my mind, the demons
that my emotions conjured up, you couldn't.
one poem and the accusations began to pour,
my confessions, my honesty, used to attack my credibility,
and then when i admit to self-destructivity,
you looked me in the eye and began to relay
a well-rehearsed speech designed to destroy,
'oh, i'm sorry baby, but i don't know that
i can continue to love someone like you,
someone who's damaged, a girl who can't face
her past, who is still addicted to past habits and
ancient memories, oh, i'm sorry baby, but look, no,
i'd rather not see reality, i'd rather not recognise
the problems that you have for fear of
seeing them in myself, i can't date a girl
who just doesn't have the confidence that i feign,
i want perfection, i don't want fucked up,
because i only have to look in the mirror to find that,
give me sex but cut the strings, give me gratification
but don't find me when you need a hug, when you need love
because i'm sorry baby, but i won't be there.'

i know what i said, that i loved you, that please, no more,
it's too intense, i'm not ready, i can't deal with it,
but truth be told, i don't do meaningless lust,
and i wasn't going to give my virginity to a stranger,
not matter how good he tasted, no matter how sweet his words,
i wanted someone who would hold me, rock me to sleep
when i couldn't defeat my depression on my own, when
i started to fall apart, when the pressure got to me,
when my mistakes caught up to me as i ran out of breath,
but no, what did i get? i confided in you because
i thought that you wanted me. that you accepted me
for i am and understood who i once was.
'i'm sorry baby, but no. i don't find you interesting anymore,
because you don't want to be my barbie doll, you won't feed my arrogance,
you won't tolerate the insults to your intelligence, and i'm sorry baby,
but if it's a choice between my ego and you, well, i'm going to put myself first
just like i always have. i'll send you flowers, because that's what i'm supposed to do,
but i won't be there for you when you need me,
i have halo to play and guitar hero to rock, time to waste,
and studying to do - though i don't need it. see this shiny medal?
another reason why you should listen to every word i say, follow
my every order, that way we can be together, that way i can use you
all while admiring the girl across the room, have you seen her on facebook?
she's so pretty, she has just the right jaw, she's my dream girl
brunetter and slender, you know, losing weight is always a good thing.
i'm sorry baby, yeah, i led you on, and now i'll walk away,
pretend you never existed, and hell, i'm sorry baby,
but i never cared about you anyway.'

oh, no, i'm the one who's sorry baby,
because there's beauty in my failings,
inspiration in my struggle, and i've faced my weaknesses,
and while you've left and become just another rejected horny teenage male
i've made a difference. i've changed my life.
not for a moment do i regret us, and i'm sorry baby,
but not for a moment do i regret never letting you in -
metaphorically and literally.

pent up anger much?
but damn, that felt good to write.
and yeah, the meaning is rather OMFG obvious.
but i don't have an issue with that.
because poetry is what i feel.
and it's freeing.
that's not the word.
liberating.
that's what poetry is.
and it's not what it seems.
because i've moved on.
that's why i've been so psycho happy lately.
because i feel like this dark cloud has just gone.
but hell.
i'm milking the relationship for all it's worth.
and it happens to be a brillaint source of inspiration.
i'm getting a real sense of déjà vu.
i swear, i dreamt this months ago.
whoa, weird much?

and if you read all that,
i'll give you cookies.

peace out and God bless.

lovelove, jess xxxx

i'mma seeing the coolest, most fabuloso person in the whole wide world.
and no, i'm not going on a date with my mirror.
i'm seeing my big sister! well, not really. but my cousin, mel.
whom i absolutely adore.
i am THIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIS excited.
multiplied by about infinity.
can you multiple by infinity?
don't you just get infinity again?
so it's like, the opposite of multiplying by one.
but yes, i just felt like telling you all that little piece of information.
because i have officially decided that i have discovered myself.
which is actually very annoying.
BECAUSE I PLANNED ON USING MY SUMMER TO DO JUST THAT.
now what am i going to do?
anyone feel like shopping with me?
or, you know, hanging out?
taking random trains in the city and praying we don't wind up in upwey?
haha, speech night '06. the great train escapade.
and speech night '07. the great tram escape.
good times, great classic hits.
and speech night '08? psht, nothing.
NO REHERSALS FOR JESS YAY.

anywho, on to what i was actually going to write here.
before i got oh so distracted.
yes, my attention span is | | that big.
and again, i'm dis to the tracted.
oh my, i'm high.
except i've been good and limiting my sugar, i promise!
and even my scrubs intake has been reduced.
yeah, i know. I'M REALLY TRYING.

and now my muse has gone.
i think i need to start making it jealous.
you know, go out with someone.
and then it'll come back to me.
i'm sick of being the other woman, i want committment.
and yes, i am talking about something that exists only in my mind.
but ten bucks says that i'm not the only writer that feels this way.
the muse is like the bad boyfriend.
who you hate and who takes you fro granted
but you can't stop going back to him because the sex is just that great.
where sex is a metaphor for writing.
a very bad metaphor, yes.
but a metaphor nonetheless.
okay, maybe i should be banned from ever talking again.
besides, everytime you say 'it's over'
he holds you tight and tells you he loves you
and you believe him because you feel so free
when you're writing, inspired by him.
and that's my muse.
the boyfriend from hell.
who is probably sleeping around.
and please, please, do me a favour.
DON'T GET MY MUSE CONFUSED WITH AN ACTUALL PERSON.
i just heart personification.

and now i'm listening to old school jonas brothers.
call me a loser.
but it's making me all emotional.
which is weird.
because i've never heard it before.
oh, hell yeah.
I AM THE EPITOME OF SCREWED UP.
but, oh how i love it.

drop dead gorgeous and everything i need,
sure, i don't know your name,
and baby, i know i never will,
one glance to realise i'm alive,
one look to remember life before the first,
brief eye contact and my heart starts to beat,
blood pumping through my veins, feeding
the butterflies that fly in my stomach,
the wild imaginings of a future,
the yesterdays fade to black, fade to where
they belong and all i can see is you
atop an escalator with your friends
that fresh, sharp smell of cologne,
and no, you probably didn't notice the
crazy girl staring at you, tossing her hair,
smiling like she's just discovered
that santa actually survives,
that everything that was once tarnished,
once mythical, once impossible to believe, is real
the fear of never moving on dissipates
replaced by something new, something familiar,
something i'd forgotten and now i know
that i'm alive, that i'm not just the ex,
that i can feel, that i'm still that girl,
the insane girl who went guy crazy, who
never ever forgot her friends, who crushed
like no tomorrow and checked out boys
without thinking of another and how she
messed it up, no, she didn't,
and now she's free again.

there we go. semi-true story.
well, two true stories.
but i made them one.
and exaggerated just a little.
who knows?
maybe that's the source of my happiness.

now, go jobro it up, yo~!
(six minutes is my recommendation.
so bad that it can only be good.)

peace out and God bless.

lovelove, jess xxxx