<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3144525607946958517</id><updated>2011-04-22T08:33:59.783+10:00</updated><title type='text'>bitch &amp; ditch</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitchnditch.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3144525607946958517/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitchnditch.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>L</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05595470982126213653</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>3</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3144525607946958517.post-6911608515602026402</id><published>2008-11-16T23:43:00.002+11:00</published><updated>2008-11-17T00:46:12.506+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Story of my life</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;So this is me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I am a 21 year old uni student with no realistic ambitions or goals in sight. I am finishing my fourth year here at UNSW, going on fifth next year- in a 3 year course.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I have failed at almost every aspect in life that is considered essential to happiness.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I have no career, I have no friends, and I have no self love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I do have a couple of things though, and that's a family, and a boyfriend.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;But those two arent what I would deem to be entirely that flash- the two hardly know of eachother's existence for starters.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;All the above is my fault. I'm not here to have a whinge or a cry. I'm rarely self pitying, but I do accept myself and my circumstances for who I am.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I'm a failure and a loser at what I do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I've never been the motivated type in studies or work. I've never tried really hard to attain something studiously in my entire life. I've never worked a real day in my life- I leech off my parents income and "work" for them. My current Bachelor is nothing I would live off in the future. It provides nothing substantial and is merely a stepping stone to something that is now unattainable. I am at a dead end with my own direction- what am I saying, I have no direction. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;My so-called best friends of 9 years from highschool have ditched me. I am the outcast girl now that the others have excluded from their special group. I'm the loner who would sit by herself at lunch pretending not to notice and care about the chattering girls in their own social groups walking by. I have never stepped outside my comfort zone and don't make friends very often. I always thought having few but good friends were all I needed. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I was so wrong.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;There is a world full of interesting people that I had the chance to be acquainted to easily, yet I chose to be conceited and ignorant. I thought what I had was substantial and more than I could ask for. Now I know- nothing is for certain; people change, scenes change, everything is constantly moving around me, and here I am with my feet in the ground stubborn and persistent that I am a good person, I do the right things. I should not feel sorry nor regret at anything that I have done.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I have never mistreated anyone directly. I have never used nor taken advantage of anyone. I've never intentionally hurt anyone nor stood by and watched while someone else did.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I care about the people around me with a passion, ask me 5 years ago how I'd describe myself and I'd say I'm a people's person. I am not socially inadequate, I'm not a social retard.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Yet here I find myself, alone and forgotten.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I don't exist anymore. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I have no purpose here.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I disappeared. And my conclusion was; not much. The Australian medical system wont be missing anything but a failing undergraduate. My parents will perhaps be particularly upset but they have another two kids to feed their own lost hopes and dreams to. My boyfriend would be upset I presume but he has a knack for picking himself up and finding someone else. Especially if I'm not around to be posessive and guilt trip him back to me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Other than these, no one else would even notice. Not a blink. Or a wink (half a blink).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;All the people I had met in highschool. Tutoring. Uni. Friends of friends. Whatever. I am nothing. They have done nothing to make me think they care- or even like me. Perhaps I'm one of those kids. The ones that think everyone likes them and they're really funny and all, but the truth is everyone is laughing at you behind their backs and they wouldn't even fart next to you let alone sit next to you.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;My birthdays always ended in melancholy. Last year, my most important; my 21st, ended in depression. I am, a nobody. Not only did no one even bother coming, one of my own best friends at the time left pretty much when she got there to go to "work" (clubbing promos). She didn't speak a proper word to me the whole time and acted quite annoyed that she even had to be there. And well trust me, it's not like she's never taken off work before. She just couldn't for me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Anyway, I try to rid myself of these memories and negative thoughts and channel my energy towards something more positive; my boyfriend. Though I must admit it is not all dandy at times. He makes me happy. And that's all that matters. I don't care if it's temporary, I don't care if I lost my friends over it (apparently), I don't care most of all that I could be digging myself a bigger and deeper hole the more I attach myself to him- or do I?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;At times I consider my situation if I lost him- which is highly likely eventually. I don't know how much longer he can stand me. I am such a disgusting clingy posessive moody unpredictable emotional wreck with him- and I have no idea why. That is another story to be told, but let's stick with the current affairs. So, where would I be without him and my rapidly disintegrating drive to go on?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I dont know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I would need professional help. Or maybe I do already.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;     &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3144525607946958517-6911608515602026402?l=bitchnditch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitchnditch.blogspot.com/feeds/6911608515602026402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3144525607946958517&amp;postID=6911608515602026402' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3144525607946958517/posts/default/6911608515602026402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3144525607946958517/posts/default/6911608515602026402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitchnditch.blogspot.com/2008/11/story-of-my-life.html' title='Story of my life'/><author><name>L</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05595470982126213653</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3144525607946958517.post-1803667597129699763</id><published>2008-11-08T22:05:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2008-11-09T00:57:47.735+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Chris Brown &amp; Rihanna Sydney Concert</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1f_dQtZ_BkA/SRWayLo83gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/opDVaEgSpRI/s1600-h/IMG_0034.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266285526188350978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1f_dQtZ_BkA/SRWayLo83gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/opDVaEgSpRI/s320/IMG_0034.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Last night: 07.11.2008&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;7:30pm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Friday night's Chris Brown &amp;amp; Rihanna concert @ Acer Arena has more people outside the stadium than inside. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Teeny Boppers in their packs racing around screaming at the sight of familiar faces, lining up for a large chips and coke, or for the overprotected/hermit/simply socially inadequate ones; towing their mum/dad to the food checkout, the merchandise checkout, and the entering doors.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I am feeling some what a little old until I spot other couples that possibly could be in the same situation as I- going to rnb concerts in their 20s because life didnt exist before the hsc.. well it still doesnt actually&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;-- speaking of the young, perhaps it is just past hsc? there is an awful lot of exhausts and horns i would like to rip off the passing vehicles tonight. Then again, who am I to speak? I know boys my age who still want their cars to sound like garbage trucks on speed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Where was I.. Concert. Its the first time Im placing my ass down on the dark red flip down cushioned seats here. Last time I was here- I glance down at the accumulating mosh 3 rows in front of me- I was in chucks and fluoro short shorts staring up at Justin Timberlake sweating like a pig. I must admit though, he put on quite a show. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Tonight I am seated elegantly not too far from the stage away from the pubescent pushing sweating bodies down there. To appreciate my location I have strapped myself in over 10cm of black gladiator heels, and a mini boob tube dress. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;The damn show takes a while to start and Im pondering staggering back to the carpark to get my camera. While stalking up the stairs already pissing with spilt drinks, I enter the foyer to be stereophoned "the show will now start, please take your seats". Damnit. Pondered for too long again. I swear I spend more time being indecisive and pondering and procrastinating than actually doing anything.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;So back in my seat, and its getting dark. A little and the girls are screaming at the top of their lungs down the front barricade so its assumed there has been some sort of movement on stage. Or maybe not. Slight light changes cause screams too. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;The show starts with "CB" himself only. This is not a fair go on my opinion. How could Rihanna compare after him? Yet to see. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;He is not bad. Ok, understatement (maybe due to the mindset tonight as I flicked through his program to find he is 18years old). He is good to great. His dancing is effortlessly impressive, though modest apparently compared to what he can actually do, he includes a Michael Jackson tribute which is awesome despite MJ's freakshowness in my mind, and last but not least, his live voice is surprisingly damn good. So similar to the album I almost suspected lip syncing! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Midshow hes on what resembles a flying saucer with pink LEDs and steam shooting up and down! Not only is this awesome disc tipping back and forth while CB and his 2 dancers slide around, it is in the back middle of the stadium! SCORE for my seats. Just when my short attention spans from staring at CB coping well with the tipsy floor to the roping, engineering and machinery of the actual stage, him and his boys rip their shorts off! Well that worked well; my attention is back on him, and this time its more like ogling. I scream at the top of my lungs with the rest of the crowd.. because it just seemed appropriate at the time, and he's off gyrating the rope/pole in front of him while singing Take You Down. Since when did this kid get so raunchy? Whatever it was, it was working well, for someone who's not even legally an adult in their own country to drink etc. The observation settles back in after the hype and he's quite a stocky boy, aint he. He's got the wide deep chest, fair amount of tattoos that dont look like they have much sentimental value (what value? he's 18), and the not-too-cut-but-there-abs. His dancers on the other hand are lean mean fit machines. But so what? theyre just dancers. THAT is CB- Underaged breaking krumping singing gyrating machine!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Anyway, I have to cut this short as I am awfully behind.. (Or is it in front? I mean I have just started learning the course).. on my studies. Exam on Tuesday and Wednesday and am absolutely clueless. Ah the life of a uni student. Well maybe not 99.5% of the students in my course anyway. They all live and sleep with their textbooks.. Sexually.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Anyway anyway, Rihanna: In short, without the lights, lasers, fire, electric guitars, backup singers, rope swing, and.. well that dominatrix superbad costume- she'd be nothing but a yodelling ferret in skimpy undies and a pushup bra.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Oh did I mention she ran off stage "sick" unable to close the show? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I would be too if I were her- sick or not- &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;After CB appeared no one seemed to notice anyway. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3144525607946958517-1803667597129699763?l=bitchnditch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitchnditch.blogspot.com/feeds/1803667597129699763/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3144525607946958517&amp;postID=1803667597129699763' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3144525607946958517/posts/default/1803667597129699763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3144525607946958517/posts/default/1803667597129699763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitchnditch.blogspot.com/2008/11/chris-brown-rihanna-sydney-concert.html' title='Chris Brown &amp; Rihanna Sydney Concert'/><author><name>L</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05595470982126213653</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1f_dQtZ_BkA/SRWayLo83gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/opDVaEgSpRI/s72-c/IMG_0034.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3144525607946958517.post-1901526707493894792</id><published>2008-09-11T16:48:00.002+10:00</published><updated>2008-11-09T17:02:12.214+11:00</updated><title type='text'>dreaming</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I've been having really bad dreams.&lt;br /&gt;And alot of them.&lt;br /&gt;Last last night I dreamt it turned out I was related to one of my ex-best friends and I was at her 'house' trying to be nice about everything when I was spewing inside because I hate my friends atm and would rather eat worms than call them. Nightmare.&lt;br /&gt;Last night I dreamt I had to take a 4u Maths exam in my Primary school setting and I hadn't prepared for it and started pussying out and had a cry and a sweat. Then I realised the exam was really difficult but logical, so I could do it so ended up doing it anyway but terribly. Basically I threw a sicky unsuccessfully hence had considered using Special Consideration which I've never done before. Stupid of me. Should have sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;Awful dreams.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it's related to the fact that I'm a living zombie these days and sleep after 4am to 4pm.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3144525607946958517-1901526707493894792?l=bitchnditch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitchnditch.blogspot.com/feeds/1901526707493894792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3144525607946958517&amp;postID=1901526707493894792' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3144525607946958517/posts/default/1901526707493894792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3144525607946958517/posts/default/1901526707493894792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitchnditch.blogspot.com/2008/09/dreaming.html' title='dreaming'/><author><name>L</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05595470982126213653</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
