mustang sally!

I wish my dad didn't like golf so much. Ever since we got Foxtel back in 1998, he's been up every Saturday/Sunday morning watching the goddamned golf. Right now he's cheering for some English golfer dude in some championship with Europe vs. America as the main focus. Europe is currently kicking arse and taking names, just proves that Europeans are just simply...the best ;D hahahaha, coming from strong European ancestry, I can say that, no matter how much of a shithole it is at the moment! Some Irish golfer dude is meant to be coming out soon, but I actually know his name cause Dad thinks he's God: PADRAIG HARRINGTON. Yeah, he's like really good at golf and us Irish people don't produce a world-beating sportsman very often! Our rugby union team is really good, but our main player is slowly turning into a skeleton D: Which reminds me, the COMMONWEALTH GAMESSSSSSSSSSSSS I watched the opening ceremony for a bit last night, was actually on the lookout for hot Australian/Canadian/Scottish/Welsh guys, but I was a bit disappointed :L Even the Winter Olympics earlier this year were better with regards to hotness! STEP UP YOUR ACTS ahahahahaha! I think when I grow up, I'm gonna marry a Canadian guy or a Welsh guy :) Welsh accents are crazy hot.

speak in tongues

talk on corners.

I'm not who you think I am.

Fuck.

if i had done english studies...

i'd have written this.



My father's parents? Nowhere. Dead, gone, with a calamity known within my family, and many other parts of the world and indeed Ireland, as the Troubles. My paternal grandfather, my Daideó, had grown up knowing that somewhere in County Cork, his own father was imprisoned for daring to say that the Irish had a right to a Free State. He took part in an uprising in 1916. Many of his compatriots were executed for doing the same thing. As such, my poor Daideó grew up dirt poor with four siblings in his tread. My great-grandmother...there is a photograph that exists of her, and everybody always says that she was simply beautiful, Aine(they called me by my Irish name, too insulted by the fact that my father had chosen 'Kimberley' instead of the 'Meghann' or 'Sinead' they were hoping for). Simply beautiful, awn-yah. Knowing that beautiful women in my father's family come perhaps once a generation, I believed it. She was said to have had grey eyes, like the storms that plague the Irish Sea for the trawlermen every season. Russet hair, and a fierce, protective love for everybody around her. My Irish name...was named for her. Greatgrandmama Aine, who was also said to adore flowers, and never knew how to read or write, one, perhaps two generations down from what the world knows as the Irish Famine. We call it An Gorta Mor. I remember seeing a banner at a soccer match in Scotland, about An Gorta Mor:


ONE MILLION DEAD. THREE MILLION DISPERSED. THE DESCENDANTS REMEMBER!




An Gorta Mor triggered the Irish diaspora; three million Irish people, mostly Catholic, desperately searched for a better life than the one that God had given them in Ireland. They took up post in America, in Canada, in Australia, in New Zealand, in South Africa, in Argentina, Uruguay and Bolivia...my family, perhaps too connected to their roots to leave, stuck it out. The first of the MacGowans, also known as the Smiths, did not arrive on Australian shores until 1963. 1963, a year of hard luck for the Irish; the Irish Catholic American President, John Fitzgerald Kennedy (known affectionately as 'JFK') had been assassinated in Dallas that year. It was also a year of perhaps good luck; Martin Luther King, Jr. had a dream and The Beatles exploded, creating wonderful music that my father's generation and my generation in turn would be fascinated with.




My maternal grandparents arrived in 1960. 


My Oma was heavily pregnant at that time with my uncle. One year later, my mother would be born also. My poor Oma had no idea how to speak English; she only knew German, Hebrew(though she had tried many times over the years to forget that language), Yiddish(ditto) and Portuguese, thanks to her Sephardi parents who had finally fled Portugal after more anti-Semetic activity in the country. However, she loved Portugal; perhaps more than she loved Israel/Australia, and visited there many times. She had told me once, concealing her disappointment in my Catholic faith with a sweet smile, that she would take me to see the Shrine dedicated to Our Lady of Fatima, and that if she was not there by the time I felt I was ready to go there and worship, that she would somehow make sure that I got there. She was an amazing cook, cooking Kosher versions of Paella and different types of bacalhau. She was expressive in her introverted way; using her hands to talk, and her eyes and head to communicate. A lot of me....comes from her.

My grandfather was not as sweet.


My poor Opa could not forget. I do not blame him. What Oma could cover up with her sweet, shy personality that I inherited....my Opa could not. He was the strong, silent type. I've seen photographs of him from the 1950's/1960's, and I was proud when I exclaimed in a rather Josie Alibrandi-like fashion: "Who's the handsome man. Oma?!" and my Oma giggled and said that was her husband, my Opa. Opa was just the right amount of cool Russian suave and fiery Jewish wisdom, though he looked more Russian than Jewish. I inherited my stony stare from him. He was very tall, 6'5 by the time he was 21, compared to my Oma's petite height of 5'1 by that age. He had blue eyes, strikingly blue, and in one of his first photographs in Australia he is wearing a leather jacket, white t-shirt, and those jeans which folded up in the ankles. Ray-Bans complete the look, and his hair is casually slicked back. My Oma stands next to him, wearing her first pair of Roman sandals and pushing her hands shyly into her Capri pants. Add a sleeveless blouse, and voila! My grandparents were the epitome of style. It is amusing to see my mother plopped down by their new car with a book, and my uncle about to pinch her ear. Their youngest children, my cousin Moises and I, have the same relationship--I was born three days before him. Moises, if you read this, this is just a friendly reminder that you are a faggot of gargantuan proportions. :)


Back to Opa....what he went through in Auschwitz, I will never know. His parents, my deda and baba, knew what was going to happen after they stepped off of the train. Their own parents had been slain in the Russian pogroms of the Tsar, which my deda and baba had escaped. They went to the furnaces humming old Hebrew folk songs under their breaths, hoping that their children would perhaps return to Israel, the Promised Land, for them.


Only one survived.




Opa and Oma, I'm so fucking sorry that you went to the depths of Hell and back. But you also made it out, and you escaped East Germany later, and I am so fucking proud of you both.


Somehow, my Opa survived Auschwitz and my Oma survived Bergen-Belsen. One day in 1959, Oma had chosen to take a light stroll around Berlin; perhaps she would stop in at one of the new trendy vegetarian cafe's for a light lunch with a couple of her school friends. She certainly didn't want to think about that rascal Joachim Bedermann, who had held her hand for a whole day and then didn't want anything to do with her.


It was that day that Tzipora Betancourt and Joachim Bedermann fell in love. The Berlin Wall would tear them apart, but somehow, they arrived in Australia in 1960. My opa dyed his hair blonde for the occasion, and it actually really suited him from what I can see in the photographs.


More to come later.

Maxime Medard

is the fucking man

Check out those mutton chops ahahahahahahahahaha! Francois is looking good too, and suddenly I've got RWC fever. What does RWC stand for? THE RUGBY WORLD CUP. Not until September next year, but still, having a dad who played U21 Union for Ireland--his family is obsessed with it--I still can't wait. Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah, I can still remember the time I caught my sister looking at some random Dieux du Stade calendar and I think I was that young that I pissed myself laughing over the pictures, but she ended up hitting me over the head with it and pretty much told me to GTFO. I looked up 'Dieux du Stade' in Google Images a couple of weeks ago, and let me just say that I squeaked and blushed and I closed the fucking window and oh my god I think I UNFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF-ed on sight of those pictures and oh my god whatever has happened to censorship laws, you bloody French people, half of those were like....porn or something OMG.

ANYWAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY.



Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaah, most if not all of the dirty words I know, I learnt from my eldest sister. Here she is on her wedding day in 2008:

this is so stupid

I just want to scream.

My mind won't let me do that.

(C'mon. You're the shy one. You're the OLSH prude, remember?)

I am. But I wonder what it would feel like to be like a loud, bubbly, carefree, happy girl.

....nah. I'll stick to being an introverted bookworm.

I want to feel what it is like to go out.
With a guy.
/dad will end up bringing someone over for me. my personality is my downfall.

God knows any guy would dislike me. I'm an ice bitch. The last guy....we thought we were going to end up marrying each other, in a small chapel, and have many children. He just wanted the names 'Lucas' and 'Claire' in there, while I was busy making up all these other names that acknowledged my cultural heritage and my beliefs and my heroines.

Yeah. I blocked him a week ago. It was his fault, I swear. It's not my fault that his 'best friend' is a fucking misogynistic wog prick. not to be racist, but seriously.

Dear ex-best friend:

If I see you in the street, I'll hold my head high, and clasp my hands--a bit like the portrait below--and I will fucking ignore you, because my mama brought me up to be an ice queen to any man that didn't know me.

Take that, prick.

"Anna! Anna Cleves!"

All I want from life is a husband who loves me.
Children who love me even more.
Laughter, food, music in my home.
A nice job. Nothing special.

Is it so hard to achieve?

fuck you.

I do not know.
I do not want to know.
I am here.
You are someone else.
Fuck you.
I personally couldn't give a shit about your bullshit.
Not in the mood for your bullshit immature games either. You both think that you're so fucking mature. NEWSFLASH. You don't know the fucking meaning of 'mature'. At least find a good looking guy to perve on ffs. Another newsflash: Billie Joe Armstrong = not sexy. Kthxbai.

FUCK

familiarity

daughter of the Troubles.

grand daughter of the Holocaust

great grand daughter of the Russian pogroms (no wonder why most of the revolutionaries in 1918 were Jewish!)

God bless and keep Israel. God knows what would happen to the Jews if it didn't exist. Israel is our homeland. It always has, it always will be.  Everyone has a right to a homeland. Shit, there's a million Muslim states, a million Christian states, why does the world get mad when the sole Jewish state dares to defend itself against the terrorist group that is Hamas? FUCK PALESTINE.



Death and destruction have, hand in hand, followed my ancestors around for centuries.
I hope that my children grow up to be children of peace. Of course, when it is time for them to know, they will know about the Troubles and what their ancestors gave up for them to ensure that they were allowed to practice their faith and have a nationality freely. They will know about the Holocaust, and the sacrifices their great-grandparents made so that that we could be free, and the journey to Hell and back that they made to do it. They will know about the pogroms, and they will know that nowadays Christianity and Judaism can exist peacefully without any problems.

herald of peace.

Agnes Gonxhe Bojaxhiu at a young age. Do you know who she grew up to become? Mother Teresa. My own father wants me to name one of my daughters Teresa after this amazing woman. God rest her soul.

2nd of my five main idols: Audrey Hepburn. I WANT A HAT LIKE THAT FOR SUMMER.

One of my five main idols: Grace Kelly.

Who said that Irishmen couldn't be pretty? Well, technically they're not allowed to be pretty, generally speaking, but hot damn Stuart Townsend in vampire mode.

Alipate Carlile, aka future husband ;D

adrien brody

Why so Danish, Viggo?

weekend

Spent the weekend bogged down with a very severe cold, which is graduating into the flu. Don't think I'll be at school tomorrow, looks like a trip to the doctors is in order. Whatever I've eaten this past weekend, I think I just threw it all up.


Thank God for my mother.

It's been a while.

I'm such a rebel. Feast Day walkathon was today, and I didn't even go. I have a viable excuse: I WAS SICCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCK. I swear to God my head is in 9843980349803480940893 different types of 'owwwwwwwww'. So I stayed in bed, skulked fanfiction.net, and watched Gosford Park; one of my favourite FAVOURITE movies. Clive Owen and Ryan Philippe are total babes. Might chase up the Horatio Hornblower (I can hear you snickering, you know) DVDs as well. Historically accurate and Ioan Gruffudd is yum.

2, 4, 6, 8

Cloke can't kick straight

LEAD THEM TO VICTORY, NICKY

This is a picture post.

Ioan Gruffudd.

A Room with a View

Ben Barnes as Dorian Gray

Ben Barnes again...

Jason Isaacs, just for Mama who has loved him for years.

UP THE FUCKING 'PIES

So I've just got back from the Show. Let me tell you something: Going on the Breakdance/Matterhorn/Gravitron/Hard Rock in the pouring rain? BIG MISTAKE. HUGE.
/i feel like watching Pretty Woman.

excuses

WHY CAN'T I STOP LISTENING TO THE MORNING BENDERS

Vi would love them, their lead singer is Asian and so is their bassist. They remind me heaps of The Beatles, and even then, their lead singer's dead stare gives me the fucking creeps.

treat it like a capital crime; everybody's doing the time

I HATE DESIGN GRAPHICS.

The girl who sits to the left of me won't stop gloating about how good her work is. She gave me a fucking 7/10 on the day we critiqued each other's work. A 7/10. Now, I can understand that, because a lot of people don't know about indie art/artwork, but to hear her going on about how her invitation is so awesome just pisses me off.

social justice

WHO WILL SAVE YOUR SOUL?

At my school, there are racist people from all sides of the spectrum by the shitload. I overheard a group of particular girls talking about how racism against white people 'didn't exist'. That's alright, then they went on to say, in English, that the Holocaust didn't happen. 

Those girls were wearing the hijab. Now, some of my closest friends are Muslim, and they have absolutely no problem with my Jewish heritage.

Those girls probably didn't have any idea that the school's resident half-Jewess was walking past them. Thank God that I didn't inherit the Irish temper, but instead the Jewish stoicism. Otherwise I would've gone ape shit, then and there. 

How dare you try and deny what my grandparents and a supposed 11 million others went through. They went to somewhere beyond the darkest depths of hell. In your country, it might be hell. But it's not Auschwitz or Bergen-Belsen, let me fucking tell you that. It'll never be Auschwitz or Bergen-Belsen. They had tattoos to remind them every day of what they fucking went through.

TRUE STORY: My Opa/Dedushka always wore long shirts, even in summer. On one forty six degree day, I managed to pull his sleeve up, and I saw his tattoo. That was the only time that he slapped me, and later, after I had bawled my eyes out going to sleep, he came in and he gave me the biggest hug, and he was shaking. He was crying too, and he kept saying 'I sorry, I sorry, I sorry.' He tried to explain to me: "I went to very bad place, Tzipora, my darling little girl. Very bad place. When you grow up, you vill know. But now, I can only tell you that your oma and I went to bad place."

 Be thankful that you're going to a school where there are other people like you. Be thankful that when you came here, there were other people like you. Adelaide has a minimal Jewish population. How do you think Herr and Frau Bedermann felt when they arrived in Adelaide, knowing no English and having no skills except how to farm?

don't throw it all away our love.

So I fully turned on my laptop just then, fully expecting to get into some PARKWAY MOTHERFUCKING DRIVE straight away to let off some steam, and what do I get instead?

THE FUCKING BEE GEES.

Looks like Mama has finally worked out how to configure my laptop, and since she does know how to use Limewire, she went and downloaded all these Bee Gees songs, and the truth is, one just about made me cry. Fuck.

Well that just put me in a horrible mood.

You know not to fucking touch my phone.

love don't pay no bills

PORT ADELAIDE POWER!

Bit of a scary last half haha, but we won AND we finished above the Crows/Cows/Fruit Tingles. Nice one Port, now let's translate that good stuff into a finals appearance next year! Let's run this! There's a reason why we've never hit the bottom of the ladder by season's end! WE'VE GOT THE POWER TO WIN! EST. 1870,  NOW THAT'S HISTORY! I was a Port Magpies supporter in the womb haha, and I supported Collingwood in the AFL till Port came in. Now I support both a bit equally, but the Port Adelaide Football Club helped out my dad when he first came here, and they helped out my grandparents when they arrived as well. Supporting Port is a way of life, a religion. I love my boys, especially #27. LOVE YOU ALIPATE/BOBBY! Forget Ben Cousins, us Power supporters need the drugs to handle the fucking stress of watching our boys play sometimes! Now the Cows may have more 'fans', but they're not the team for all South Australians, fuck that. Unless all South Australian men beat up their wives/girlfriends, get into punch ups, break innocent people's jaws, and get in to betting scandals.

Lady Day got diamond eyes

to see the truth behind the lies

privyet!

Tonight, me and Mama made chicken Kyiv. She had to help me heaaaaaps because the recipe was in Russian. Thank God it wasn't in Ukrainian or things would have been worse! Anyway, chicken Kyiv is a Ukrainian dish comprised of chicken breast folded around garlic and herb butter. Then it is crumbed, and baked. It turned out delicious. Russia has always pwned the Ukraine, so it only makes sense that we pwn a Ukrainian dish!

angel of harlem

Cannot get enough of vintage U2 at the moment.

So long, but this love won't let me gooooooooooooooo

\

Jenny

I am so fucking obsessed with The Killers at the moment it's not funny. This happens about every two months.
FACT

I've got a Modern History essay that was due yesterday that I haven't even started on.
FACT

Grad dinner will be at the John di Fede Hall in Windsor Gardens. Only two tickets will be given out besides my own. I am mad about this.
FACT

The year 12 jumper design I voted for got picked.
 FACT.

My nickname on it will be KIMBERSURPRISE.
FACT.

My guy best friend is a dickhead. Yes, Hien, I'm talking about you.
FACT.

Two out of three of my sisters are absolute hoons and whenever I am in a car with them when they are driving, I bring my rosary along so I can clutch it just in case.
FACT.

Mum gets pissed off when she switches from English/German to Russian and I end up not understanding her.
FACT


I need a ride for Muck Up Day.
FACT

dinner.

Dinner tonight is beef, garlic and herb sausages, mashed pumpkin, mangled cauliflower/broccoli, mashed potato, and a mushroom gravy with onion and bacon. Mama's always been adamant about vegetables, and fresh produce. Tuna Mornay tomorrow night, yum, I like tuna--infact, I like seafood. Whiting is amazing, as are scallops and oysters.

I might harangue Vi and ask her when her mum will make those fuckwin dumplings again, damnnnnnn they were good.

writing

I've got a FictionPress account. I've had it for a while now. No, I'm not saying what it is, where it is, or what stories I've posted.
Fanfiction.net goes the same way.



My English teacher in the second semester last year was amazing. She was....the only English teacher throughout all my years at OLSH to actually look at my writing with a critical eye. Granted, my writing has always been good I think, but dear Ms. Sullivan was the only one to not put her personal opinion into my writing. Because of that, my writing has improved. Thanks, Sully. I'm glad I didn't choose English Studies. Poetry would have never really suited journalism anyway.

Marchons, marchons!

We celebrated my brother-in-law's birthday today, he's 37. Every birthday in our immediate family (which is still quite big), Mama cooks whatever they want. As such, for lunch we had Chorizo sausage, chops, good bacon, pancetta, eggs, Chicken Chef chips and a green salad. Bread was also on serve, as was the awesome Kilpatrick sauce my sister made. It was delicious, and Chorizo is delicious. Now thinking of a Chorizo and bacon sandwich for dinner, sounds good. Spanish food is rather amazing, I must admit, and I never passed up my oma's legandary bacalhau com broa--salted dried cod with Portuguese bread, also known as broa. Yum.

Goodbye, Australia.

It's been great, really.

if Tony Abbott is PM by tomorrow

I will prepare to leave this country.
Women who voted for him: you should be ashamed of yourselves. Regardless of whether he is 'good looking' or not, he's still a misogynistic prick.
Men who voted for him: Give yourself a pat on the back, go have a wank, and be proud of the fact that you're a sexist pig.

The Australian bogan couldn't stand the idea of having a female PM, so he went for the next option, a misogynistic bible-thumping moron.

What is it with Portuguese guys and huge lips?

I'm being fucking serious. A couple of my cousins on my mother's side have come to visit, and both of them have grown...lips. One of them has turned out to be a pretty boy, and when I pointed that out, he was all like 'oh fodasse' so I'm gonna take him to the hairdresser's tomorrow because his hair is getting long.

Dear Dad

Da, I love you, seriously, but you're 61, so therefore you are banned from going into places like yd. and mantoman to get clothes. There is a reason why Mama facepalms when you come home with bags from those places. Stop saying 'feck it' when something is too expensive for you. Yes, you're an Irishman, and no, the rest of the store doesn't need to know. Learn how to turn on a computer perhaps, instead of pointing at the 'on' button and saying 'How the feck does that one work!?' Please don't get FB. Speaking in Irish to your brothers may be natural for you, but doing it when everyone else is around is a bit mean, and it will make everyone look at you--not that you've ever cared, but still. Learn how to make a phone call, and learn how to text properly. I know it's a prerequisite that every Smith male in this family must suck at technology, but still. Even Mama's better at it than you. Opa always kept himself up to date with the latest happenings; that mainly involved him getting me to find the AdelaideNow website for him so he could troll the comments sections with his broken English (Kimberleeee! Ziss vill not vork! How!) Oma sucked at technology more than my Dad does, but she had her crock pot and her stove and her industrial oven and she was happy. I can remember her yelling at me for putting a creamy mushroom sauce I had just made over the schnitzel I had just cooked; I had made myself dinner, and she arrived at the wrong time. "Yech! Zatt iz not Kosher, silly girl!" I loved both of my mother's parents like crazy, and when they died I was devastated, but seriously, the constant talk of me marrying a 'good Jewish boy' was a bit annoying.

So I cannot stop listening to Jewel; her first album, at least.

Who will save your soul?

She is so amazing.

It's a bit ironic that I attend a Catholic college full of people who couldn't give a shit about God. That's fine, they are allowed their beliefs, and I'm not about to push my own down their throats. But when you're Irish Catholic...there's really no escape from it. Hence why I am known around the school as 'churchie'. Yes, I attend church every Sunday, what's the fucking deal? Irish Catholicism is not just a religion. It's a fucking way of life. We've been persecuted for 1000 years or more because we're so steadfast with our beliefs. Yes, my father and his family had experiences with the Troubles, hence why they came over here. 

I place a great lot of weight on my faith, and I have found that it has always come through for me. My faith is the reason why I am so...morally, and ethically, conscious. Granted, I don't agree with the Catholic Church on everything (abortion, gay marriage, divorce etc.) but it plays a huge role in my life.

Day 1 - Your Best Friend

Jennifer: I remember the first day we met; it was on Orientation Day in year 8, and since your friend had moved away, you had no one to sit with or be with. I think we became best friends then. The day after Orientation, again, you had no one to sit with, so you came to Elena and Selena and I. Throughout OLSH....I think you're the only one to truly stand by me. Others have...drifted, and I thank you for...not drifting away from ME. You've moved to a new group, yes, but it's still so good that we still talk. Thank you for everything, now go and get the Dux that I know you will get!

kimberley non c'e

andata via?



Man, I really need....something.

 I don't want to go to university.

"You're too smart to not go to university!"
Oh, if only you knew.


....god help me. I want to work and to travel but fuckkkkkkkkkkkk everyone is saying I should go to uni but UNI ISN'T EVERYTHING. Fuck, let's see how many of you drop out in the first year, hmmm?

OLSHies who let teachers control their career choices fuck me off.

Nicholas II, and the woman who should have been Viktoria Fyodorovna.

i prefer to stay in the shadows.

and another thing.

TWILIGHT.

Newsflash: It's shit, in my opinion.



I managed to read the first three books before they became a craze. I knew one thing from the start: I hated Edward Cullen. I was a total Team Jacob girl. Edward Cullen, to me, seemed like a misogynistic prick from the start, and Bella was stupid enough to fall for his shit. He controlled her, and she let him do it. I may be shy, but I was raised in a family of fucking strong women; many of them nuns. I can't imagine letting my husband control me.


my sister is taking too fucking long doing her makeup in the bathroom. Granted, I don't care about makeup all that much; I don't use foundation, and usually I don't use blush either, or mascara. But she takes a whole heap of time with her makeup, and then she leaves her fucking makeup wipes everywhere. I WANT TO TAKE A SHOWER, YOU SELFISH COW, OR DID YOU NOT REALISE THAT THE WORLD DOES NOT REVOLVE AROUND YOU?

You've got gall stones, you know that, that should be enough for you to stop stuffing yourself, but do you? No. "Ohhhh my guts hurt" WELL OBVIOUSLY, BITCH. YOU REAP WHAT YOU FUCKING SOW.




I cannot wait to move out.

just fuck off to the football already.

why did i have to turn out like my mother?

my sisters all turned out like my father.

they're disgusting slobs.

really disgusting.


can't wait to move out.
an apartment in the city sounds nice.

unhappiness

was when I was young
and we didn't give a damn

The Cranberries. Their early 90s stuff = amazing

the cranberries were my absolute favourite band for all of last year.
then The Smiths took that title this year

but fuck, such Irish lyrics...I can relate to them
.
i swore I would be true, and honey, so did you

how does it feeeeeeeeeeeeeelllllll

Bob Dylan,

your music scrounges my soul and seeps into every nook and cranny of my conscience.

Kimberley, put down that book!

I hear it every Media Studies lesson. If my teacher starts confiscating books like he confiscates phones, then I'm fucking screwed. Today, when he told me to put away my book ('The Girl in Times Square', by Paullina Simons), I protested that there were only five minutes left in the lesson. His response? "Yes, and you're wasting five minutes of your life if you just read that book." When I later made a jab at the fact that he was carrying a pink pen in his hands, he put on a really mean accent and said, with a lisp, that he was getting in touch with his feminine side.

Mr. Fletcher, some days are bearable, some days I cannot stand you. Either way, there is very little chance of my investigation draft getting to you by Friday. :)

give it away.

been listening to rhcp a bit too.

down Cypress Avenue

she jumps up and says
"Lord have mercy, I think that it's the cops!"

Van Morrison = amazing. I think I've been listening to his stuff since I was in the womb...he's one of my dad's favourite singers. Then again, my dad also likes Earth, Wind & Fire (shit IMO). And Def Leppard (even more shit, wanna hear a joke? What's got 9 arms and sucks? TROLOLOLO).

Aaaaaaaaaanyway. Van Morrison. My dad was about 19 when his best album, entitled 'Astral Weeks' came out. Damnit, it's an absolute masterpiece. Van himself was only about 23 when it was released. I've just downloaded the album after being stuck with sitting next to our old record player and straining my ears for sound. Fuck, it still sounds so amazing, so sublime, so full of beauty, wonder, and soul. I seriously consider 'Astral Weeks' to be the greatest album of all time, because it endures.

johnny rzeznik

You used to be so good looking.


Yeah, I've been in a major Goo Goo Dolls craze today.

you and me got something

but it's all and then it's nothing to me
yeah

fuck this

I know I keep babbling on about a new slate. I know I know I know I know.

I know that you're hurt. You're also a man. You've got balls, surely. Use them, and grow the fuck up.


Forget about me, forget about us, forget about everything. Why would the penniless journalist have anything to do with the rich dentist? It escapes me.

Once upon a time, I liked you.

we used to walk down by the river

Russian love of literature and way of writing.
German punctuality and cleanliness.
Portuguese way with food and sarcasm.
Irish expression and faith.
Jewish neuroticism.
Australian girl.



she loved to watch the sun go down

Fantastic Plastic Machine - Days and Days (Acoustic)

Pssst. I think I like this version more than the real one.
Monday, I were thinking every second of you...

Nirvana - All Apologies

What else should I be?

jesus don't want me for a sunbeam

i'm frustrated.

Fuck, I'm frustrated.

About what? I don't know exactly.

But OLSH is a shithole.

I feel like the Year 12s, and a couple of year 11s, are the only decent people left; we're a tight bunch, and apart from the typical catfight between the proverbial few, we've stuck together pretty well. Everyone knows everybody else. Got problems with homework? There's always someone to help you.  We were given the Senior Campus as 'our place'; ours to look after, ours to nurture, ours to protect. Last year, we did that pretty well. This year, I think things have changed.

Is it so hard to fucking put an Easy Mac wrapper/container in the bin? Is it so hard to not leave fucking noodles in the sink, ready to go down the drain? Is it so hard to NOT get easy mac powder on the fucking tea towel? Our Common Room is an absolute hovel. We all know who 'rules' the common room, and personally, I don't think it's that group. It's others, who have no idea about keeping clean and tidy. Fucking pick up after yourselves, you're not five years of age anymore. The bedroom that I'm sitting in right now is spotless, and it usually stays spotless, for a reason. Clean habitat = clean mind for me. Junk will never get me anywhere. Now, I understand that some people may feel better with mess around them, but it's never been that way for me. Just like the Senior Campus. Every time I walk into the Common Room, I have an itching to pick up a cloth, some detergent, and a tea towel and just wash and scrub every dirty plate, bowl and piece of cutlery can find. But I won't. Something holds me back, and it shits me off because I'm always worrying about what other people think of me, and my appearance. That blush on my cheeks? Natural. Skin? Natural, usually don't need foundation. Lips? Okay, I cheat a little, David Jones' liptwist is a Godsend. Other than that, I don't really try. Should I? I don't know.

Back to the Senior Campus. Don't fucking stand in the crowded canteen line unless you fucking want something. Your friend will be fine by herself. You will be fine not one meter away from her. No need to buy out the canteen, either.

And another thing. A particular teacher of mine has no concept of 'drafting', I am completely sure of it. She scribbles all over my drafts, expects me to read her writing, and then blasts me and about three others if we dare to hand our stuff up late. Now, of course, it's not the same for others. One girl handed up her fucking task that was due in week 5 of the first term at the end of last term.

Certain Year 11s: You are disgusting, please wash your mouth out with some soap. Talking about how you are 'wet' for someone else does not make you popular; in fact, it makes you look like a slut. Seeing you call your friends 'sluts', 'whores', and 'hoes' on FB like they were terms of endearment does not help your case. Put your Mean Girls bible away. Please.

Mel, Mai, Toni, Tuyen etc: If you ever read this, please know I'm not talking about you.

*sigh

Oh dear, I probably sound like an absolute bitch, and I really don't fucking mean to be. Honest. At school, I'm shy. I swear. I'm the shy redhead with the Slavic doll-looks and the high-pitched voice when spoken to.

Mum's playing Richard Marx, and I feel like crying a bit. But I almost never cry.

Nirvana

I think that every person has, at least once, connected with this amazing band. RIP Kurt Cobain. My favourite of theirs is 'About a Girl'; the MTV Unplugged in NY one, mind! Fuck, that whole concert, you just knew that Cobain was ready to die.

i fought the law

and the law won!

So I've been in a bit of an 80's phase for the past couple of hours; Simple Minds, The Clash, Tears for Fears, Richard Marx, Dexy's Midnight Runners, the Dirty Dancing soundtrack, the lot. I remember my dad spinning my mother around to 'Come on Eileen' when I was about four because the Port Magpies had, yet again, won the  SANFL Premiership. I wonder when I'll do that with my husband. I want my home to be full of music, food, and constant chatter and laughter.

Port can't play for shit at the moment. That's alright, neither can the Crows, and that makes me happy.

"I'm a lover, not a fighter!" - Alipate Carlile, full-back for Port, and my husband. Pahhh. He is so amazing <3 #27 FOREVER

Tura lura. Oh, loverboooyyyyyyyyyyyyy....

sad veiled bride, please be happy

Handsome groom, give her room.

I'm going as Edith Piaf to Georgina's 18th. I've got the hair down pat naturally, now I just need to hold my hands as if I've just seen a Stunner deal and look imploringly up at the sky. And I'll break into French song once in a while. Somehow, I don't think I'll get the eyebrows right....

Edith Piaf

what's in a name?

my full name is Kimberley Ann/Aine Elisabeth Tzipora Smith.

Aine is Irish, and pronounced like 'Awn-yar'.

Potential other first names for me were Tzipora, Megan, or Sinead. 

Dad liked the name Kimberley, so I got it.

Aine was for my great-grandmother, Ann is the Anglicized verison of it. Tzipora was for both my mother and my grandmother and her mother and her mother. They were all called Tzipora till it got to my mum and my grandparents decided to name her Kerry-Ann in order for her to have a less hard time at school. Elisabeth is for St. Elisabeth of Hungary, aka the saint I took for confirmation.

What about the names that I like?

That's a different kettle of fish. But for my children, I'm gonna try and get them all down...


Girls:

Maria Roisin (roh-sheen)
Emmeline Mathilde
Elizabeth Yocheved (yokh-e-ved)
Florence Eleanor
Christabel Victoire

As you can see, my daughters will be named after strong women. Emmeline, for Emmeline Pankhurst, Yocheved for the mother of Moses, Florence for Florence Nightingale, Eleanor for Eleanor of Aquitaine...




Boys:
Patrick Joseph
Gabriel Colm
Isaac Adrian
Alasdair Luke
Jean-Pierre Dominic

These are just a mixture of my Irish and Jewish backgrounds. Granted, Alasdair is Scottish, but it's still an adorable name.

how soon is now?

warning: this is a gripe post.


first up: racist people. my mother brought me up to be kind to everyone, no matter what creed they believed in, no matter what the colour of their skin was, no matter what sexuality they were. When I hear from one of my dearest friends (who is of Indigenous descent) that another person walked into the classroom my friend was in and said 'Ew. It smells like Aboriginal in here', I just feel so let down that it is the 21st fucking century and some of us...no, MOST of us cannot fucking get past our prejudices and see a person for what they really are.

the smiths

seriously one of the best bands ever.

I remember when I first fell in love with them; I think it was the end of year 8/year 9, and I had just transported myself from rnb to emo and I was out of that stage and I had no idea what to do. In that period, I found three of my most beloved bands:

The Smiths

• Bloc Party
• The Smiths
• The Kooks

lol i can has camera

I've got two assignments coming up where I have to take my own pictures to feature in them. Unfortunately, all I am left with is a phone camera to take them with. Dodge much!? I think I might take photos of my 'other group' this time, which features two of my closest friends. Vi and Sophie, you are both amazing! Aaaanyway. Camera. Yeah. 

My day: 

• Got stuff done in Design Graphics, but not without lamenting the fact that I'm going to get a shitty mark for my product design because I rushed it. Handed out some surveys regarding the colour scheme that I should use. 
• Got jack all done in SOS, but I did finish off my English article.
• Sat and listened to Ms. Semmens ranting and raving in English, and tried not to get on her bad side. I have an aversion to getting on any teacher's bad side, so I always try to be nice, amiable, and polite. There's one teacher that I annoy regularly("Put away that book, Kimberley! Media Studies is not private reading!"), and he's constantly accusing me of rolling my eyes at him every chance I get, but ah well.
• I am perhaps too pale for my own good, and I love it. There is a reason why I shy away from the sun in spring and summer.
• My mum is an amazing cook; home made Portuguese tarts anyone? 

It was mine and my best guy friend's 'anniversary' a couple of days ago. I think. We've been through a bit--including a relationship that lasted one day, because it was fucking weird acting like boyfriend and girlfriend when in reality we're more like brother and sister than anything else, and we're constantly arguing because he's a filthy Lib, but yeah. Happy 3rd Anniversary.

 TUSK!

Speaking of music, here is an 'essential' playlist:

1. Tusk - Fleetwood Mac

2. Frankly, Mr. Shankly - The Smiths

3. Wish I - Jem

4. Like a Star - Corrine Bailey Ra

5. Lovers in Japan/Reign of Love - Coldplay

6. Non je ne regrette rien - Edith Piaf

God bless.

So...

On Facebook, I added one of my old schoolmates from primary school a couple of weeks ago.

Did a bit of stalking. Um. Wow. He's....turned out okay. 

Them Hungarian boys, hmm?
(oh dear, I may have just given myself away to any St. Gabriels' kid with half a brain.)

dear orlando bloom;

why did you have to marry miranda fucking kerr?

/feel like a LOTR binge now. Legolas and Eowyn OTP.

i hate media studies at the moment.

misogyny and the media.

2000 words due next friday.

has Kimberley started?

Nooooooooooooooooope.


/just quietly, diego forlan is quite good looking. 

'nerd glasses'

they shit me off so much.

you don't even have problems with your vision you retard, why are you wearing those stupid glasses?

speaking as someone who is quite short-sighted, it pisses me off. fashion these days, jesus fucking christ.

i swear I hate having big boobs.

DD's, wa-heeeeeeeey, all natural. Everyone tells me I'm lucky. The back pain, the perverted staring, the staring in general and the shit that I'll go through when I get knocked up tells me I'm not. I think I've already made a conscious decision not to breastfeed.

christina hendricks is my idol sometimes.

why are you wearing shorts in winter?

aren't you cold?

or are you that convinced that style matters over substance and warmth?

silly person.


/the phantom of the opera, in the perfect image of a priest

piazza new york catcher

Are you straight, or are you gay?

I'd love to see my family's reaction if I married someone different.

italian, lebanese, english, asian, black, anything.

it would be hilarious.

/and the moon is almost hidden, the stars are beginning to hide

if I could go back in time...

'I am a prisoner here in the name of the King;



they can take my life, but not the love that I feel for you.'

-Voltaire

I'd screw Voltaire.

shit that needs to get done.

• media studies horror trailer filming
• media studies investigation
• media studies magazine
• comms article
• comms free choice
• SOS investigation
• SOS oral presentation
• SOS advertisement
• design graphics final product
• design graphics investigative report
• modern history major
• modern history exam
• modern history comparative essay

Like usual, I have nothing to be shitty about; I should be happy that I've only got one exam. However, there are pros to exams; they are there on purpose to save your shit at the end of the year.

i need a 90 TER score to get into journalism and international studies.
fuck that shit.
fuck university, and fuck tafe, i'm going to defer and work. save my pennies, travel, move to France.

i should really learn how to css.

obligatory man-post.

here you go.

LUKE PASQUALINO.

<>

MATTHIEU KASSOVITZ. aka Nino Quincampoix <3

IOAN GRUFFUDD. The day he got married, I think I almost cried.

being a woman.

it sucks.

there's actually a high chance that I suffer from endometriosis.

'Endometriosis (from endo, "inside", and metra, "womb") is a gynecological medical condition in women in which endometrial-like cells appear and flourish in areas outside the uterine cavity, most commonly on the ovaries. The uterine cavity is lined by endometrial cells, which are under the influence of female hormones. These endometrial-like cells in areas outside the uterus (endometriosis) are influenced by hormonal changes and respond similarly as do those cells found inside the uterus. Symptoms often worsen in time with the menstrual cycle.'

(thanks, Wikipedia!)

My mother suffers from it, my eldest sister suffers from it, my other two sisters don't have it.

Does this mean that I'm next? Probably. The symptoms are there.

Dear God, please don't let me be infertile.


so anyway, I was off school today because of the possible endometrial malfunctions. Laid in bed most of the day clutching a hot water bottle to my stomach, thinking 'fuck my life' over and over.

Who am I to be saying such a thing? There are people out there who have it much worse, fuck.
That's another thing that shits me. People bitching about how their lives are so hard, how nobody likes them...fuck, you've got food, a roof over your head, chances are you've got a family. just shut the fuck up.

steam.

THINGS THAT I'M OBSESSED WITH:

drapeau français

• Edith Piaf
• the French language
• French cooking
• France itself
• Fanfiction.net (yet again)
• Ioan Gruffudd
• 'Dr. Zhivago', and as a by-product, Omar Sharif (when he was younger, of course!). The sixties hairstyles of Julie Christie also apply. <3
• Facebook

Well, I have a draft to look over for a very good friend of mine. Alas, with one hand affixed to my back trying to keep a hot water bottle in place, it is problematic.




The awesome shapeshiter!dark!Harry story that I'm currently glued to is not helping either. HEHE.

tsaritsa;
Noun 1. tsaritsa - the wife or widow of a tsar

Years ago, perhaps when I was ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen...I fell in love with European royalty. The particular family that started this craze?


THE ROMANOVS.
i use the word 'craze' a bit too much.


The Romanovs were the royal family of Russia, the land of a chunk of my cultural heritage. At the risk of sounding utterly and completely absurd, I will say this:

ARKHANGELSK, HOLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!



The Romanov dynasty lasted for over 300 years, until the main family were executed at the hands of the Soviets in 1918. 'Tsaritsa' is the word that they used to replace 'Queen', though 'Empress' was also often used.

My obsession with European royal families has faded a bit, for now. But now, because I am currently studying the Russian Revolution, my interest is sparked up again. Like many of my interests, it will spark up and then fade, a bit like a bad lightbulb, until I decide to be interested a couple of months later.

I've subscribed to the craze.

Well, not really.

I tried to figure out Tumblr before I stumbled across this.
Meh.
Perhaps I should introduce myself.

Kimberley, eighteen, hello, how do you do?
I'm good, thank you.

I have a papa and a mama and three sisters.

Did I forget to mention the five cats?

Hmmm.