Spare a Thought for the Tomboy?
One of the negative traits of the female race is that we can’t seem to help buying trashy magazines. Is it the bright colours? The fashion shoots? The hot guys? Or is it the occasional pictures of driving gloves? (Okay, for me it MUST be the driving gloves.) But I have to say, I’m feeling a bit left out after reading one article, which was about translating some of the things guys say into ‘girl talk’. For example, and this is what is in the actual magazine:
Boy 1: Dude, Call of Duty Five is just Call Of Duty Four with new skins – which was only Call of Duty Three with new skins!
Boy 2: Calm down, mate.
Boy 3: The only good thing about Call of Duty Five is the return to World War Two and Bolt Action rifles, which actually require skill.
Boy 1: Call of Duty Four was cool. [This is my favourite part] Call of Duty Five is poop.
Um… well, trashy magazine, I understand what these hypothetical guys are talking about. I own an XBOX 360. I’m better at playing it than some guys even. On Halo 3, I have 338 experience points, rising every day! And I agree with Boy 1. After all the hype, I was expecting something that may even rival Fall Out Boy in the coolness stakes. *shakes head*
I’m really starting to understand these magazines less and less. Advice to date guys who are popular and wouldn’t give you a second glance? Why would you even bother? Love is about finding someone who truly cherishes you. Telling girls to be angry over getting a bad haircut for three weeks? What about girls who become paraplegics? How long are they supposed to stay angry for?
It seems the redeeming qualities I used to find in magazines are growing fewer and fewer. Of course, you can’t blame the publisher. They just have to cater for their target market’s wants – our wants. And we want to date guys who have good looks and no personality, and we want perfect haircuts, and not good grades. I just wish we lived in a more supporting society, where we could finish reading magazines and say:”I really learnt something from that, that was really interesting!” *sigh* Well, I’ve done three posts in one night, that’ll keep you guys satisfied for a couple more days, right?
x Gezza
Awesomest… Bag… Ever.
After actually doing some work on school assignments this weekend, (yes, there is a reason why I haven’t been posting terribly much) my parents were actually impressed with me. So much so, I actually asked them to use my mum’s credit card to buy something on the internet, and got it. And oh jesus, it’s cute.
- Cutest. Bag. EVER!!
The Meaning of Gezza Revealed
I noticed what you guys have been searching in my nifty little search box at the side of my blog, and one phrase caught my eye. “Meaning of Gezza” And I have to tell you, it’s a very good question to ask. And because my life is that boring at the moment. I am going to answer the almighty question:”What is the meaning of Gezza?”
Now, Gezza has several meanings indeed.
- According to google, Gezza is a mispelt word which should be spelt “Geeza”, and yet somehow churns up 267,000 results anyway. Hmmm…
- Wikipedia’s top search results state that Gezza is Gerard Sinclair’s and Anthony Gerrard’s nickname, a Liturgical book, or that someone called Gezza was a member in the cast of the amazingly popular and defenitely non antichrist Satan: The Movie.
- According to the proclaimed book, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, the meaning of Gezza is indeed 42.
- In Yu Gi Oh the Abridged Series, Yugi refers to Tea as a ‘gezzabell’ a.k.a gezza. Now, this could mean the characteristics of a typical Gezza are as follows: brown hair, a high pitched voice, a crush on a guy with huge hair and someone who hardly ever changes out of their school uniform.
All in all, we can safely conclude that Gezza is not a nickname this blogger created for herself by replacing some letters in her name with z’s. Because that is completely irrational and impossible.
The mere thought of it…. sheesh!
x Gezza
… Because this guy needs more credit
Defenitely something worth checking out if you need a laugh, particularly if you’re into a) comics b) mangas or c) XBOX 360. But even if you’re not, at least visit it! It’s not about Twilight, which is a plus already.
x Gezza
Google Never Lies
Aw come on, you know it’s the truth. (Bad picture quality? Yes, I know.)
Rargh. Really, I’m stumped for writing words at the moment. What can I say? I come home, I study. I get all teenager-ish and have mood swings? Yeah, it just doesn’t sound all that interesting.
x Gezza
Fire
>.< I am trying to update more, I promise! I had kind of a busy weekend, it was fourty nine degrees celcius (118 farenheit) over here, and over the other side of my town is a lovely, very combustible pine tree plantation. On Saturday, it set on fire. I think I’ve always had the whole:”Yeah natural disasters happen but they’ll never happen to me” attitude, so I wasn’t very worried when I saw plumes of smoke wafting into the sky, and, it wasn’t that close, I guessed. I spent the day fire proofing my farm none the less, and I am glad I did! At midday, the smoke had blocked out the sun, and there were reports of homes across town being burnt to the ground.
Luckily, unlike some, I didn’t loose everything I owned. But still, it really put things into perspective for me. A town down the road got wiped off the map, and when I got to school on Monday, it seemed as though everyone had been affected in some way, one girl in the year below me lost everything she had. It just seems to unfair to me, that for no valid reason people loose everything, that’s included in the ‘natural balance’. All that’s on the news at the moment is the suffering of innocent people – almost 200 died in various fires around the state, a whole family got burnt to death while trying to escape the fires in their cars, two seventeen year olds died trying to save their horses. Whittlesea, I town I’ve been to so many times, looks like a naval base, there are teens everywhere, soldiers from army bases driving around in bulldozers trying to set up firebreaks. I’m just trying to figure out how on earth those firemen made sure that fire didn’t burn down my house.
Although the wind blew the fires in the other direction, it’s still a chilling reminder when I see a red glow over the horizon at night, capped by a red moon. I hope that nobody else gets hurt in this catastrophe, but the death toll is still set to rise, and the 110km firefront doesn’t look like it’s going to shrink anytime soon.
x Gezza
Poetic Musings: Fury
I did this poem quickly for English. I thought I’d post it, as I have nothing else to talk about.
Fury
All I can do is stare and watch.
Was it the blinding, uncontrollable fury that had crept up swiftly and silently, that scared me?
Or was it because that abstract, ravenous thing had reared its head at all I held dear?
Its mouth frothing, ravenous eyes unblinking as it crept closer with every heartbeat?
Its limbs trashing against the chains holding it down, that had buckled with time?
It was violent, deemed a necessary part of the human equation.
But it wasn’t those things that conjured the fear that struck down into my bones.
That malevolent beast, fury, was escaping from me.
I was furious.
I can see their faces, hurt, scared. It doesn’t bother me.
x Gezza
The Horrible Writings of Gezza Surface!
Well, here’s something I’ve just been writing for English. Much to my absolute joy (no, my friend and I literally high fived each other when we heard this) we are studying Gothic Fiction. Bram Stoker. Anne Rice. Oh yeah. I’d appreciate your feedback on this!
The Thrill for the Kill
They lie casually together, he is licking her lips as he caresses her thighs, drawing their bodies closer together. He runs his slender fingers through her fine hair, a curl of flames around them both. Her dress pooled onto the rich velvet of the couch, and she looked into his dark eyes with admiration like a dog to its master. He lent into her neck, and pulled back.
“What’s this?” He asked, examining the silver crucifix, turning it around in the light, her cheeks turning red as if she were condemned and being burnt at the stake.
“Don’t be embarrassed.” He said passionately, leaning into her, placing his slender cheek onto her breast. He heard the hollow thud of her content heartbeat beneath her clothes, and the rush of her blood through her thick veins. “So, you must believe in the existence of the devil as well then.” He murmured.
“Where there is good there is evil.” She shrugged. “All we can do is make sure we don’t stray into Satan’s clutches.” He carefully unhooked the chain from around her neck and held it in his palm, the tiny image of Christ on the crucifix staring up at him. He crushed the necklace in his hand, turning it upside down and letting the mutilated pieces fall to the floor.
“I don’t believe in god.” He said to her, meeting her gaze as though he had commented on nothing but the weather. And then, as though leaning in to kiss her, he retracted his crimson lips and pierced her fresh, youthful skin, seeking the nourishment below.
“Alistair! What are you doing?” She screamed in agony, as he sucked in harder. She writhed around in pain, trying to break his cruel embrace.
“I think I’ve had enough of you for now.” He pushed her away disgustedly, and picked up a glistening wine glass from the table. He ripped the flesh off her skin, and let the blood flow freely into the glass. Holding it up to the light and swirling the contents around, he watched her reaction of horror, and wondered what her last thoughts were as her eyes glazed over, and she no longer had the strength to move, or cry. His eyes narrowed as he tipped the glass up to his dry lips.
“Now, hurry along to your God.” He promptly left the blood stained room.
x Gezza
EDIT: Oh my god, this actually got views. XD Well, I’m glad someone liked it!
Back to school… again
Even though I’ve got some great friends, I couldn’t help feeling slightly nervous as I walked up to the lockers yesterday. Maybe everything had changed while I was on holiday, perhaps a nasty rumour had spread through the school about me… These thoughts went through my head as I gripped my new shoulder bag, filled with brilliantly white new exercise books, unused pens and sharpened pencils. I opened the door to the locker building.
Hmm. It was still hard to open, still made that curious creaking sound. And as I looked down the long hall, saw nothing had changed at all. “Gezzzzzzzzzzzaaaa!” My friend Phoebe called from down the corridor. I smile, throw my bag in one of the cubbies against the wall and run up to her. “Hey Pheebes. Geoffrey!” I glomp him and he writhes in pain. “Sunburn, Gez!” “Oops.” I say, giggling. It was the usual first morning “Hey, how were your holidays, how are you, did you get my text?” conversation with all my pals for a while. The bell went and we stumbled off to homeroom. And then I saw that maybe everything wasn’t exactly as I thought it would be.
Though there were some familiar faces in my homeroom, there was a chunk of new kids too, sort of placidly leaning against the wall, trying to look like they belonged. Que the flashback to my first day of high school, trying to avoid everything and look for another new kid like myself. After picking up the shoddy stationary, we pick up our assigned locker keys. I look at the bright yellow tag on mine. B004. Cool. Kinda like the secret agent. Then it dawns on me. As I head into the locker hall, I walk down and down until I am greeted by this massive blue metal thing that is my new locker, complete with adjustable shelf. Its a top locker too. How many years had I been dreaming of being senior enough in my school to get one of these? I had never wanted to be the lowly junior who gets the small, crappy little bottom locker. I began to see how much I missed her, in her uniform that was too big for her, timetable held out as she quizically tried to make out what it all meant.
I had always wanted to be one of ‘the big kids’. But now I just wanna reverse back down. Hell, I don’t know what career to choose, not even what subjects I wanna pick for next year. I started having a little freak out as I pictured university offers in the next couple of years. The fears slowly subsided, but came back again today. “Mock internal assesment.” Mrs. L, my history teacher, underlines the words. ‘We’re preparing you for the start of your courses next year. There will be tougher marking, and those of you who have been getting good grades so far will be brought down.” She goes on to talk about the course we’re taking, making it seem all so… complex. “Now,” she says, “Those of you who want to make your education the best possible in the next two years will be watching me attentively during our lessons. Those of you who don’t will be staring at that fan.” I’m watching her, I thought. And I saw that all this future stuff isn’t all that gory. I just have to try hard. I can’t let myself be distracted, I have to put all the effort in that is possible and extend myself. So that’ll be my school motto for this year. School gets harder as you go along, and there’s no turning back. Yeah, it’s scary, but I want to hold that diploma in my hand.
x Gezza
