Today, physically, I'm feeling like a million bucks. Emotionally, I feel like I've been run over by a train. The bloke that I thought was out of my life, has now reappeared, guns blazing, and asking me to visit his place for the weekend so I can watch him sit in a bar and get drunk with his mates. Not exactly a girl's idea of a great night out. Then there is the other guy, he's a sweetheart, great bloke, funny, smart, has brains like you wouldn't believe. And he was talking to me about going away for a week on a house boat. Now that could be fun. Why is it that the people in our lives are ultimately so opposite each other? You either have someone which is your perfect guy in one sense, or someone who is your perfect guy in another, but the two never meld to make superman. Its frustrating. But then I realise that the perfect guy, wouldn't exactly be the perfect guy... perfection isn't what I want after all... I want a normal human bloke, and perfection is far from any of us.
I've made my decision over the man I want in my life. And it's pretty much going to break one guys heart. But I feel like I've outgrown him in a lot of ways, and the way that I'm headed, the other guy would be the better option for me. I feel pretty confident about that decision.

Overall... today was pretty emotional. I don't know what is going to happen. But I kinda like it like that.
Today's panties: Hot pink boylegs. X

Pies are evil.

Today's panties: None. X

Recovery slowly creeps closer, inching forever at a snails pace. The sparks of sickness stay close by, gripping your hair and trying to pull you down again to the putrid obsession of illness. The skeletal remains of hungering need clawing at your insides and gripping you tightly in its death like grip. Pain tearing through your body as you double over in twisting, wrenching pain. Your face contorted in horror, as your eyes gaze skywards and hold your body, trying to stop the pain escaping, as they claw and bite and grate forever at your stomach. Trying to escape.

Today, I am slightly better. I have been able to eat a little something, even though it still hurts like hell. But I'm still drinking a lot of fluids which is definately a good thing. Not as tired today. And I'm feeling ... okay. Pretty average, but okay. It was kinda nice to be able to eat something, just to feel it in your stomach again... its a strange feeling really. This fullness and warmth. I had forgotten what it felt like, also taken it for granted. Its amazing what you appreciate when you don't have it anymore.

Today's panties: White cotton boylegs.

Your stomach crawls as if inhabited by a thousand cockroaches, streaming over each other and clawing at your insides like the plague, like a madman seeking refuge from a world of judging eyes. Your throat burns like the brimstone fires of hell, and your mouth is dry like the deserts of the world itself. Unforgiving. Barren. Without mercy.

Needless to say, I still feel like crap. Food poisoning has destroyed my appetite. Not that I can eat anything at the moment, because I part ways with it anyway. But hey. Such is life. At least this weight loss thing is working (most likely associated with the not eating part). Six kilos in two days. Its almost disturbing. But I'll definately try and eat something tomorrow. Theres not a whole lot to report today I'm afraid. I ended up doing some painting, and primed a couple of extra canvases in case the creative juices start flowing. I'm working on some very natural pieces at the moment. Scenes of nature and the like. I haven't done anything like this before, and I'm discovering how challenging it is to draw on such beautiful sources of realism. Just the incredibly varied different shades of green is becoming a learning curve, all its own. I'm rather enjoying feeling the weight of a paintbrush in my hand again, and mixing colours and whatnot... I almost forgot how much I loved it.

Today's panties - A sexy little red lace number. X

When last week I was questioning the men in my life, I was torn in my own perceptions and respect for them. And the universe has made my decision for me. The person who I believed I loved and wanted to be with has met someone else, within a week of telling me he wanted to be with me. And the funny thing is, is that I'm not surprised or devastated or upset in the slightest. Sometimes you just have to accept it, deal with it, and move on. This does two things for me. One, is to enable me to pursue something with a man who challenges me as a human being, and two, allows me to finally realise that a lot of things are a complete joke. I know that it sounds somewhat jaded to believe that 'love' is a joke, but when 'love' means finding someone completely new after a year of trying to get past the shit of a relationship, yeah, its a joke. Or maybe its just him. He was everything I thought I wanted. And it was complete rubbish. In a way I'm glad. Everyone has to realise at some point, that human beings aren't the idolised creatures we believe we are. We're human. And that allows us to hurt those around us, that engulf and breathe the air we do at such a point as to emotionally cripple others. And all for the excuse that we are human. I am not a perfect being. I have made choices in my life that may have hurt those I care, or cared, for. But when you take responsibility for them it gives you a certain amount of courage and control over your own fate.

I have spent the last twelve hours in bed, recovering from a bout of what I believe to be food poisoning. And a dodgy pie started it all. I can see the comedic beauty of this. It takes a bout of sickness for my body to recover physically from the draining actions of the last week. But as soon as I start to recover I need emotional recovery. Sometimes life just has to make you laugh. Yet I can sit here now, and write this for all of you, and when he comes online (as he has just done), I can happily close the window, and know that I will overcome this moment.

Today's panties: Black cotton, with a pink skull and crossbones on the front.

The A - Z of Alcohol (part four)

N is for Nausea
The horrible thing that can follow a wonderful night of drinking.

O is for Ouzo
A wonderful friend of mine 'S' gave me this one (as a beer drinking girl, you'll have to forgive me). He says "It tastes like aniseed, I think its got anise in it - its clear, and bloody strong!"

P is for Port
I don't particuarly know why, but I love port. I guess its one of those christmasy kind of things, that you associate with warm fires and sitting under the tree opening presents. Although, in Australia you'd be MAD to have a fire going on Christmas day. And we're more likely to be drinking beer... but I guess its pretty stereotypical.

Q is for Queasy
Yet another horrible thing that follows a wonderful night of drinking.

R is for Rum
Or Captain Morgan's to be exact. This is one of those festive, seasonal kind of drinks that just makes one feel all happy and warm and fuzzy inside. Gets you absolutely plastered to boot. A nice side effect if you ask me. Whats better than the drink of pirates, I ask you? Something caused all that raping and pillaging and plundering. It was either insanity from the sun and being at sea so damn much, or rum.

When all you want is to be able to please the people around you, is it even possible to hold onto yourself?

In a world where perfection is so sought after and desired, is anything less embraced with love and courage?

When the world you've known and loved for so long is crumbling, is it possible to stay standing in amongst the wreckage?


I had to wonder today about the world that surrounds us, and the extents we go to to try and fit into it and be a part of it. How we push ourselves and restrain ourselves and force ourselves to fit an image that the world will embrace with approval and pride. Or how we disreguard the ideals of what we 'should' be, and the price we pay for it. Ultimately do we end up sacrificing part of ourselves? Or do we end up embracing ourselves in the most positive and fulfilling way?

Today I realised how much I missed my painting...

*Bloke puts a four pack of Jack Daniels and Cola on the counter*
ME: "Anything else with those, mate?"
BLOKE: "Um... yeah, a packed of Peter Jackson Virginia thanks darlin'."
ME: "Those are extremely bad for you."
BLOKE: "If I get cancer, I'll come back to you."
ME: "Pffft. Go after the cigarette companies, they've got more cash than me."
BLOKE: *laughing* "Good one."

Today's panties: Blue striped boylegs

Today was a confusing, hectic, emotionally testing day. Someone I loved, love... used to be with came back into my life. I hadn't heard from him in months, and then he was there. Part of me still wants that, and part of me wishes that I could throw it away. I am torn, emotionally. Between a man I've loved since I met him, who brought out the best in me, and a man who challenges my intelligence and psyche. I am torn between so much lately. But work is a constant. A physically trying experience that continues to make me smile in a way. I am glad I can have the constant of the people that come into my work, the customers. They're funny and they make me smile. Its lovely. Reassuring, that the world still turns.

Work tonight was good. Busy. But I got quite a lot done. I still find it funny how my family call me up when I'm there and tell me to get them booze. A call tonight from my mother, asking me to get her Martini. A call yesterday from my dad, asking me to get him Whiskey. No incredibly lewd comments this evening... just a lot of rain. It was lovely in a way... the way it battered the doors. I made as many excuses as I could to walk across the road in it. I think of the song by the Doors, "Riders of the Storm" and I think about how beautiful and peaceful it is... and how somehow we relate ourselves to songs. Thoughts or feelings or actions. I know that you hear a lot of people say that... "That song is SO about me" (invocation of annoying tenny bopper, here), but there is just something about the tranquility of that song...

Another day, another dollar. Today's panties: Hot pink boylegs. Yeah.

I spent most of today reading... Following the progress of Salinger's protagonist in "The Catcher in the Rye" I realised how much I need to get away... I'm starting to get itchy feet, this happens every few years with me, I need to get out and travel and see something. I want to have the kind of life where people I tell about my adventures will just say "WOW". And I can't help feel attached to everything. Its not my job, I can get a job anywhere in this country, but I can't help almost hating it here. I admire how the character, although only a teenager, can just take off and end up in New York... although I suppose in the time this is set going off to New York is a hell of a lot cheaper than it is today... Its not New York I want to go to really... I want to see my country. I've lived here my whole life and I want to see its beauty and its harsh reality for myself. Guess theres a little adventurer in me.

I got a pile of forms about my superannuation today, and I can't make head or tails about any of it. Its confusing, and so far the only thing I actually understand is that its with the Commonwealth Bank. Its ALMOST relaxing here now... the fire is loaded and the rain is belting at the windows, can hear my olds argueing in the background about something stupid... a telly program I think. Its childish and it surprises me that they're both in their 50s. I picked up a book a couple of weeks ago that I really want to get into: "Nineteen Eighty Four"... I'm looking forward to that one. It still surprises me how a lot of my mates would rather spend their wages on music or clothes, while I'm more interested in feeding my soul and my mind. Granted, music can do that, but the ability for deeper connection with music was lost when Rap became a genre. Today's panties: Sunflower yellow boylegs.

Today I woke up to discover the sky gray and heavy, rain battering my windows, and lightning breaking across the sky. Also discovered a shaking, shivering, frightened puppy in my bed. It was adorable. But also hairy and scratchy. Then I climbed out my window and sat on the verandah roof, watched the storm... it was lovely in a way. I love how you can feel all the electricity coursing through your body, and the way your hair stands on end at the back of your neck, and your body feels so at place in the universe. Its exciting. That could partly be due to the fact that there is a possibility one could be struck by lightning, but hey, its part of the experience. And then came a random conversation...

ROD: "My chest hair tingles"
ME: "That doesn't surprise me honey, its your super sexy sixth sense"
ROD: "Danger is afoot!"
ME: "Of course it is, you're around"
ROD: "This explains much"
*long pause*
ROD: "And can only mean my penis has become harder"
ME: "You should have been steralised at birth when you burst from your mother's womb"

But then a conversation regarding Kafka came about with a close male friend, and that kind of balanced out the stupidity in the universe. I think. The topic of conversation I believe was "What is the most dominant form of human intelligence"... we ended up on a shaky balance between political and spiritual. There were some rather good debates that accompanied it. A lot of people find it strange that the majority of my friends are male. Theres just something that seems to make the friendship so much more... endurable if its a bloke. I think the lack of girlish screaming and squeeling helps. Also the lack of pointless convesations about boyfriends...

Today's panties - red with a purple lace trim and 'cutie' written on the side.

Today was partly a day of recognition, and partly a day of eye opening sadness. I recognised how I was feeling and how I was dealing with the world around me, and realised that I wasn't doing too well... Then a friend showed me photographs he had taken of the devastation that is still left behind since Hurricane Katrina hit Florida. And I was sickened, and disgraced to be a human being. And realised that compared to that, and compared to what some of those people must be living I have heaven. I learned not to complain about life, and to take every knock on the chin. That if you fall down, you get up, and you try and help as many people as you can in the process. I wish there was a way to compell the government of the US to act in a more productive way, and to help the people on their own soil than wage a war in another country. I hate to think that if the American government put even a fraction of the funds for the Iraq war into rebuilding the devastation of Hurricane Katrina, that this horror would have long been over.

On a lighter note, today's panties - white cotton with cherries printed all over them

Work has been rather busy lately, I guess a few days of warm weather has people reaching for the booze again. The people that come into work still amaze me, but they're always generally nice, nothing too offensive comes out of their mouths, and the flirting comments come out of practically everybody's. A guy that stands out in my mind recently was a middle aged bloke, about 34 - 37 years old, not too bad looking actually...

HIM: "Come fishing with me"
ME: "Yeah? Sounds like a plan, where are you going?"
HIM: "The local pier, I'm gonna back up onto it with me ute, me mate's gonna fish off the end, and I'm gonna sit in the front and... drink"
ME: "That sounds exciting"
HIM: "Oh it will be, would be even more so if you were to come along"
ME: "I think I may have to pass on the fishing, love"
HIM: "You don't know what you're missing sweetheart."

Oh yeah, I get em in droves. If theres an annoying drunk male out there, he'll walk into my store on the night that I'm working. Its even better when they come in packs.

BLOKE 1: "Hello beautiful"
ME: "Hello hopeless"
BLOKE 2: "aww... Now don't be like that"
BLOKE 3: "How much is a slab of cougar?"
ME: "Sixty mate"
BLOKE 1: "Pffft, thats a bit steep"
ME: "Thats the price, you don't like it, go somewhere else"
BLOKE 4: "Right, how much is a cube of Bundy?"
ME: "Forty five sweetheart"
BLOKE 2: "So you call HIM sweetheart!"
BLOKE 1: "Come drinking with us"
ME: "Nope"
BLOKE 1: "Please come drinking with us"
ME: "Nope"
BLOKE 4: "Come on darling, just a few drinks"
ME: "You've got more chance of FLYING out that frikkin' door, that you do of me coming drinking with you"
BLOKE 2: "Better grow some wings then, hey"
ME: "Hell yes"

Things haven't been too bad the last couple of days to be honest. Pretty average, but not bad. Mother's Day was a great hit in our home, I spoiled her rotten. Completely rotten. Chocolates and books and new pajamas, and a really soppy card that made her cry. Cooked her breakfast, did everything for her, she didn't lift a finger all day. Lucky.

Today's panties - at the moment, none. Will report back soon.

Yesterday I was dyeing my hair and I had a thought, that I've been thinking about quite a bit since actually... How much of our lives do we actually fake? In a world where we can fake our hair colour, our eye colour, our height, our weight, our breast size, our cock size, our skin colour, our accent, our beliefs, hell, even our orgasm... how much of us, at the end of the day, is real? What part of us is left behind the primping and pampering and carrying on?

I'm also reading a book which is perhaps entirely focused around lies, and their actions and their consequences - The Catcher in the Rye. And I'm loving it. But one line in the book has ruined what the protagonist's perceptions were for me "I am the most terrific lier."

I have to run off to work. I'll report in soon with another exciting addition to my online tales. Todays panties - Red boylegs with a pair of lips on the front. Over and out. XX

The A - Z of Alcohol (part three)

I is for "Iceberg"
A lovely little cocktaily something which my mate 'L' put me onto. It contains vodka and peppermint schnapps which you shake with ice and strain into a chilled glass. Sounds bloody nice actually.

J is for Jagermeister
A beautiful and extremely potent drink that is truly delicious and packs one hell of a punch when combined with red bull.

K is for Kahlua
Mmmm... this beautiful smooth creamy liquid is lovely when combined with butterscotch and icecream in a blender. Makes a lovely summery drink and packs a decent punch to boot!

L is for Lager
Ah, the beloved lager. Very possibly one of the most popular forms of beer and one of the highly enjoyable. One of my favourite forms of lager is the 'Crown'

M is for Moscato
A lovely white wine created by Brown Brothers. Brown Brothers make beautiful versatile wines which are pretty damn fool proof for any wine new-comer. If you pick up a bottle of Brown Brother's (red OR white) ... you can't go wrong. My tip.

This morning I started work at 6am... It was again another equally horrible and boring day. As you can imagine not a whole lot of people want to buy booze at that time of the morning. Being up that early is simply ridiculous, in my opinion. My bosses are inhumane and cruel. They should be poked profusely with pointy sticks. I should say to them "AHA! I will go out and find a stick, make it pointy and then return to poke you with it profusely!" That would show them.

When I finished work, I felt like walking home (about five, maybe six km), and I stopped in the cemetary again. I sat on a tree stump and just watched... and the way the wind was blowing through the gum trees and the dust blowing across the rocky ground really made it all the more comforting and beautiful to me. And then I took these... Today's panties: Black cotton, with "hands up" printed on the front, and a red lace trim.

Domestic day, uninteresting and absurdly boring. Housework, washing... so much bloody washing. I feel like Mrs. Wong (elderly chinese lady that owns a laundromat in the city). The human mind amazes me, as much as you try to do the 'right thing' and the 'nice thing', try to make someone's life that tiny bit easier and they throw it back in your face. I'm not really in the mood to write tonight... far too tired. Today's panties: black satin reading "Bad Kitty" at the front. Tempting? Hell yes.

A very long day. A very long tiring day. A horrible horrible day. Ultimately, my conclusion is this - starting work at 6am is NOT FUN. After starting at 6am, I did the usual things... dealt with some people, over saw a delivery, talked to my boss. And to think, that I have to get up again at 5am on Wednesday. I walked home when my shift was over, took time and dawdled. I stopped in the local cemetary (ironic how people make jokes about it being the 'dead centre of town' when it most cases a cemetary is located on the towns outskirts, anyway) and took some photos of the beautiful old headstones. Its amazing, the history you can learn from them, people's birth dates and death dates... A group of headstones together, all children under ten, all dead within two years, five of them... You can gain a small insight into the life of those times... The hardships that people face... And I am sorry. I cannot imagine what it would be like to lose so many people you care about, you love, in such a short space of time... Nor ever for that matter. Just to live through such an experience... To be the one that buries your children. I cannot begin to imagine what pain that could cause someone. Or how that would affect them physically/psychologically.

The photographs will be for reference for some new art pieces I'm working on... I'm enjoying exploring this new subject matter. Not just for the image, but for the history. With each name I find I feel like I'm finding part of that person, something they left behind. And then every now and then you see a familiar name. Not necessarily that I knew said person, but just the sound of it... It may sound morbid. But I don't think that. I think of it as more... A Homage for the Dead. I like that... Homage. Homage (noun): A public show of respect or honour for someone or something. I like the idea of showing people these headstones, finding out as much as I can about the stone's "owner", and telling them what I can. Almost like keeping their memory alive. Its interesting how, in the cemetary, walking alone amongst these long forgotten headstones, that I felt safe and oddly happy... at home, and peace. Odd? Todays panties: Black, with 'Kiss Me' written on the front. Any volunteers?

A very tired, average feeling Tracey writes to you today, last night - while not being a complete disaster, was just well... Its hard to describe... The birthday girl ended up in tears for most of the night, so it generally dampened the mood lets say. I got to see a few of my mates, which was fun, and I'd love to see them all again... Photos were taken and times were enjoyed. Beer was consumed and fights were had... Cars were abandoned for the safer option of walking home. And it is now that I reflect upon last night, and realise that I may have been better off staying at home. In a couple of hours I have to go to work. But at least I can (hopefully) have a slow night. Sunday's generally aren't too bad. The friends I saw last night, they weren't the friendly faces I wanted to see... so many people that are important to my life weren't there. And can't be there. And it was horrible, and reflective. And when you think about things like that you realise that you've come to a point in your life when you need to make some big decisions regarding your future, and your life. When you think about the people in your life, those that mean more to you than the world, and those that appear more as just stops along the way.

There isn't a whole lot someone can say about the people that you love without sounding like a complete soppy muppet... But then, if you mean as much to them, they should already know it... Shouldn't they?

So I ask this: What do you do when your life is falling apart, and the one thing that means the world, is the one thing you can't have? Do you fight and believe (in ignorance... or stupidity) that maybe, just maybe one day it will happen and things will be grand. Or do you finally accept that one day will never come, and live without that beauty in your life, for the rest of your life. Then again, maybe some answers aren't meant to be known. Or maybe, you have to leave the decision making up to the world around you, and just sit back and enjoy the ride. It may be an optimistic option, but maybe the world is on my side.

Todays panties: Black boylegs that read "It doesn't count, if you don't get caught"

Another long, incredibly boring day at the office. It appears that the local alcoholics dislike the cold immensely... for in three hours I had only twelve customers (yes... I counted). And now I sit here, obediently writing to all the people on cyberspace who have nothing better to do than read what happens in my life. I hope you find it significantly more interesting than I do. Applying mascara is not easy when you're trying to type at the same time incidentally. Just so you know. At the present time I'm resting and eating a little something so I can go out and experience yet another moment of drunken teenage awesomeness. I feel I am obligated to such actions as I am now of an age where one can't get a smacked arse for coming in late in various states of intoxication and (disgustingly) covered in vomit. Note: That while I have never thrown up from the consumption of alcohol, I hear that this is some kind of bookmark in adolescence.

Just a quick one tonight so I can keep with the updates. I swear that tomorrow's entry will be significantly better. I did have some profound thoughts earlier about plague and the four horseman of the apocalypse... but not to worry. Todays panties: Green and white striped boylegs. Although I may end up not wearing any. To be continued...

Is writing in the present tense now as beyond me as LIVING in the present is? How did I (a fool) manage to miss the obvious. I notice - noticed - nothing. Nothing at all. I like to think I'm a good person, still... even if (admittedly) only by reflex. I served out my sentence - six years in a large square concrete building filled with boredom and despair (secondary school), yet one that filled my mind with knowledge and wisdom and helped me to become what I am today. Six years in the hands of teachers who speak loudly and point at things with large sticks. Reading the human being used to be drilled into my psyche, into my perceptions.... And now I am left wondering what is different.

When all I want is to lay in bed with someone, two bodies and voices and thoughts intertwined in darkness... I am left with mediocrity. And I feel like death warmed up. I find it funny how CONFESSION can create a released sense of calm, how it can bleed away the restlessness and engulf you so completely. And in the same mind-numbing instance, leave you so completely empty and regretful that your heart feels like it will explode. When all else fails - keep your mouth shut.

Today's panties - black boylegs, with handcuffs on the front

Okay, so this is now officially the second day that I've missed since I started this blog. The first was because of a party - which was fucking fantastic actually. Yesterday was because my phone company, in all its glorious STUPIDITY cut my phone lines for no damn reason. Yes, I had paid the bills, and yes, I had kept the receipt. So there were many hours of abuse spent on the phone yesterday. But eventually they put it back on (although they still had no good reason for turning it off) eight hours later. AND they wanted to charge me $150 to come to my house and see what the problem was... I have no patience for these idiots. NONE. Maybe the phone companies should stop hiring CHILDREN TO DO THEIR BLOODY WORK!!

Okay, now enough with the ranting. Today was a fun day generally (I'll get to the horrible part towards the end of this entry). Originally started off rather good with plans to go out shopping with a friend (sex shopping)... but then she didn't come. Nope, too busy fucking her boyfriend's brains out (LITERALLY - the chap has about as much intelligence as a snail). Anyway. So that didn't happen. Instead I called up my dear friend who I've known since kindergarten and her and her boyfriend took me sex shopping. Where I purchased: A pair of good fur lined wrist cuffs, a small vibrator, a pair of fluffy sex game dice, and bondage dice. Then after that, we went clothes shopping, where I got myself: a pair of zebra striped panties with red and white lace, a pair of black panties with handcuffs on them and a trilby hat. Anyone who has seen a trilby will know what I'm talking about. So now I have panties to match my "porn-star" zebra print bedsheets. Which I think is just enough on this side of tacky to be tolerable. Anyway, they're supremely comfy. When we got back to her place, she went to work - and me, in all my forgetful habits, left my wallet in her car. Complete with bankcard, ID, and medicare card... I'm not worried, because I know that she'll keep it until I grab it... but still. I hate that I forgot it. Yesterday when I got money from the ATM I forgot my receipt (granted, that may have been because I went into the store in my pajamas... but still). I've been really forgetful lately and its a little upsetting - I'm normally miss. reliable... GAH. I'm beating myself up over something small. I'll get it off her in a couple of days. Rant officially over. Todays panties - white lace boylegs.

When I saw this, I originally started laughing hysterically... then almost sadly as I realised it was almost disgustingly true. I mean, working in a liquor store, one sees the effects of alcohol - not to mention being a young woman and attending all the associated parties simply laden with drunkeness and endless alcohol induced comedic stupidity... but it is simply horrendously true!! Granted, I've never fallen subject to alcohol lowered standards... but my standards have been lowered due to obvious horniness... Something I may never live down in my circle of friends. But ah... how fun it is to be young and gossip of the week. A short entry today - but I'm sure you'll survive. As for todays panties - purple and white striped boylegs, with a white lace trim.