I AM NEVER SMOKING EVER AGAIN: you have the right to punch me in the face if you catch me with a cigarette

Last year I picked up smoking.

When people pick up smoking they tell you  lot of really dumb excuses such as:

or

 or

 or

These are all lies.

Firstly, nobody likes smoking to begin with. The first time you smoke it’s disgusting. The first time you smoke properly feels exactly like walking in front of a blast furnace at a crematorium, clawing out your tongue and lungs with your own blunt nails and throwing it into the centre of the fire hearth. When that’s done you are left with a sensation that is similar to what you’d feel after being attacked in the middle of an alleyway, stuffed into an half full powder keg and that is then rolled from the top of Mount Everest.

Cigarettes aren’t fun to begin with. Plain and simple. Most of the time you try avoid having smoke clog and sting your eyeballs. It’s not until you’ve grown accustomed to holding in tobacco smoke for more than five seconds without having a lung-aneurysm (also known as coughing), paralyzed ¾ of your taste buds and ashed one of your friends for fun when it becomes tolerable.

The truth, and no one has the courage to admit this, is that the reason why anyone picks up smoking is because they think it looks cool. I, on the other hand, have no qualms of admitting the fact that at the age of 16, I picked up smoking because I thought it was cool, making me both semi-retarded but also courageous.

Advertisers since the 1920s have done a bang up job of making people think that one light up of a cigarette will automatically dim the world to a chiaroscuro hue, where everyone is suddenly in a 1920s noir film trying to be or bang the femme fatale. Sure, tobacco companies are restricted from advertising nowadays, but the sentiment still sticks.

And that's the whole condundrom: it does look fucking cool. Right until you're having an epileptic fit for creating a new strand of lung cancer. Sherlock Holmes smokes. Don Draper smokes. Winston Churchill smoked. Audrey Hepburn smoked. I smoke.

Winston Churchill attempting to appeal more to the Asian community to win electoral votes.

The list goes on.

But sometimes enough is enough. 

At this stage in the game, I love cigarettes. I love cigarettes because I’m addicted to cigarettes. It’s like a poisonous co-dependent marriage where I am an innocent girl being manipulated by my husband who never got enough love from his parents. I would swim a league of seas for cigarettes. I would deepthroat a cactus for cigarettes. Whenever I have sex, I have to close my eyes and think about cigarettes in order to finish. I want to virtually drown in tobacco smog that has precipitated into liquid form because of being so highly concentrated in a small area. When I projectile vomit, I only want it to be tar from the cigarettes I’ve smoked.

In reciprocation, cigarettes treats me like an untouchable in an Indian caste system.

But today is different.

Today, I pledge to you, all 3 of my readers, that I will quit cigarettes.

The realization dawned on me that it was simply unsustainable having both a deteriorating mental state and physical state. Specifically, it is because for some reason unknown to my inner workings, I decided to pick up competitive basketball again. Safe to say this happened:

What's that I hear you say? Why am I playing basketball when I'm 5"2, have no dexterity and smoke.

Well fuck all of you.

Now I'm only 5"2 and have no dexterity, bringing my team down.

Tales of Insomnia, part 3: A genuine moment

I can't sleep again, but instead of being filled rampantly with anxiety and misanthrope for the first time in what feels like forever, I feel perfectly okay.

I don't know how long it will last. I don't know if this is a just another fleeting, manufactured sensation of rushing endorphins; fabricated by a combination of Simon and Garfunkel, cheese, crackers and  flicking through the final pages of Life of Pi. I don't know if tomorrow it'll be back to business.  But, for now, it's something worth noting and acting like a complete sentimental douchebag over. Because it's like this:

It's one of those quiet genuine moments where I feel as if the universe in her ever expanding, mysterious, infinite wisdom has whispered to me one of her personal safeguarded secrets. The moment all those books talk about when they're trying to encapsulate what it means to complete the pursuit of happiness. The moment people tell me about when first hearing Martin Luther King's Speech, discovering Emily Dickinson or covering the tiny pink awkward hands of their firstborn child. The moment usually felt on a sunlit car park roof, surrounded by a mustard sky, familiar company and terrible conversations, where you're feeling impossibly close to the sky, the end of the Earth and the start of goddamn history, because an indescribable sense of almost unbearable contentment seems to creep into your bones and all of a sudden wash over you --your mind racing, heart nearly bursting with affection for having air in your lungs, a body still functioning and the rest of your life worth living.

Or if you want to cut the poetry and semantics, it's like taking a really satisfying dump.

Tales of Insomnia, Part Two: A documentation into madness

1:00AM - Running on three hours of sleep spread out between 38 hours is like running a car on vaginal discharge whilst trying to drive from Sydney to Broken Hill.

 I can't begin to describe what it's like facing nighttime and not being able to sleep. So this blog post is going to give you a bit of a general idea. This blog post is also going to be by far the worst thing I've ever written. And I used to write poetry.

This is my official descent into madness. I hope you are all happy.

1:21AM - I should just become a burlesque dancer. Seriously, how hard could it be? I'd be a hot neurotic  sarcastic burlesque dancing bitch with a pistol stuck through my garter. I'll save tips up to get a boob job. Then I'll take lessons learning how to sing like Whitney Housten. I'll Catherine Zeta Jones the town of Chicago.

I'm so deleting this shitty blog once I become some respectable self-hating lawyer bitch.

1:42AM - I cannot be bothered to draw comics this blog post. Fuck all of you. I can do what I want. I'm not your monkey. I am an independent woman who still reckons if a guy doesn't pay for my meal the first date round he is a bit of a cheapskate.

Oh no.

2:13AM - Quienten Tarintino has the weirdest face. I'm going through his google images right now and he actually makes the weirdest poses.  Here are a few combined with my attempts to look like Quentin Tarantino's face.

"Bitch, 'Pulp Fiction' will be forever regarded as the best thing ever, so suck my dick"

"I am a fucking genius"

"But also a douchebag"

"I pay 'homage' to foreign films"

"This is how I fingered him."

2:21AM - Oh what's that  insecure internet teenage girls? You're judging me for wearing make up after seeing all these photos despite the fact that it's 3:21AM in the morning? 

Well suck my dick. The bathroom is far away and I have run out of make up remover and I can't sleep. I hate you. I'll do it later. Why don't you project your insecurities on someone else for a change.

2:51AM - I should explain why I'm wearing pig tails. I'm wearing pig tails because my hair is disgusting. It legitimately looks and feels like cement mix. Unfortunately I don't have any proper hair elastics because I am an awful human female. Fortunately, I found this paperclip things that would bunch my hair together, but it would only fit around small portions of my hair. So I tied up my hair in three main sections. Technically, I don't have pigtails considering I have my hair tied up in three knots.

I'm not sure what animal that hairstyle would be called after.

Cat tails?

Cat of nine tails?

...of fuck you. No one's forcing you to read this blog.

3:29AM - So I'm reading this book about democracies and revolutions. It's pretty futile attempting to read when you've got insomnia, considering your mind can't focus or process tangible information. Your cognitive processes basically live independent from your body in a dissociative state when you haven't gotten enough sleep.

Irregardless, I attempted to read because I live on the edge. I read this and immediately laughed like a fucking maniac:

It has everything to do with the fact that I can't comprehend information and thought this was literal. the I imagined a picture of some starving African gnawing on the sides of democracy, attempting to eat it. Then I laughed even harder because that's a fucked up thing to laugh at. 

I wonder what democracy tastes like.

3:49AM -- A few days ago i saw this guy in tight leather shorts riding a bicycle and every time he pedaled bubbles would generate from the back of his bike, evaporating uselessly into the atmosphere like the dreams of new parents. He had this shit eating grin on his face, like as if he was the queen of the world. He also was singing when I was trying to read my reading university things. I hated him instantly. I wanted him to ride into a sharp pebble. A sharp pebble so sharp it would rip his bicycle tyres, disconnect from it's frame and ricochet onto his face causing a rupture in his Temporal lobe.

Btw, i had to look up a brain map to pick out which part of the brain i wanted him to be damaged in. That's how much this guy annoyed me.

Don't believe me?

Well fuck you.

Here's proof of me looking at a picture of a brain:

4:01AM - What is life?

4:10AM - dog was like 'arf arf' in the backyard. and i thought there could have been a robber so i went outside. but i didn't so much went as i did sway outside because i can't really feel legs at present moment. anyways my crazy dog was all like 'arf arf arf' again. so i called him inside so he would shut the fuck up. he came to me and was like 'i only like you because you feed me' and i'm like 'what?'. and my dog looked at me in this judgemental way that said 'stop projecting your manic depression onto me'. then he licked the bottom of my foot, which was actually the bit with nail and i got really paranoid because i havent washed my feet properly since yesterday so i tried to push him away but ended up kicking him in the snout. so then he got sad because he thought i was being abusive. but i'm not abusive. i just have really bad self defense mechanisms that make me come off as indifferent when really i am dying on the inside and just want something to hug. so i gave him a hug and he licked my face. 

then i had to wash my face because dogs like to lick their balls.

(my dog may be a dick, but he's also super cute. PS: stop perving on his weeny)

4:27AM - i think i might be able fall asleep now

Adventures in insomnia, part One: The Love Triangle

Dear sleep,

Hey asshole! It's been a while. I know we've been going through a rough patch lately, but that's really no reason for you to fucking ignore me. We used to be so close. You used to drown me in a sea of slumber when my head would touch a pillow, cradling me to the land of sand like a comforting mother with her firstborn.

Now you barely even look at me when you enter me for a mere 30 minutes. I'm left dishevelled and unsatisfied! I have needs too!

What happened between us?

Sincerely,

Carrie

--

Dear Carrie,

It is true. I remember the days when we would used to get along, you and I, when the evening was spread out against the evening sky, like a patient etherised on a table.

We would have such good times, I loved those ten hours we'd spend together, where I would incarcerate you with a kaleidoscope of dreamscape pictures, a process necessary while your brain would refile, categorize and rearrange thoughts, memories and information inside your head with seamless technocratic proficiency. The next day it would make me so happy to see you re-emerge happy, fresh, succinct, articulate and ready to take on life.

But that's all changed now. One can't really pin it down on one thing. It was a slow gradual process, nothing I could have noticed by present observation, but rather recognized after accumulative retrospect. But if you really forced me to point fingers, I would point it at the time you decided to let Anxiety into your life.

Kind Regards,

Sleep

--

Dear Sleep,

Hear me out.

I have no real excuses for letting Anxiety into my life. However, at the same time it's not like you being distant towards from February - June helped. Your distance made my brain sad, lethargic and unable to process information coherently. I don't even have proper memory of what happened during that time period. Does this make you happy to hear?? I went to Anxiety because I NEEDED someone. You DROVE me to him.

And now? Now Anxiety won't leave me alone. I've tried breaking up with him but he doesn't stop badgering me. Psychologists warned me he was the abusive type. I should have listened!

I was stupid, naive and dumb. But now I've learnt the errors of my ways. Anxiety seems to go away when you're around.

I was a my happiest  and best when you were by my side. So please, can we get back together?

Carrie.

--

Carrie,

You admitted yourself that you needed Anxiety. Clearly I was not enough. Furthermore, I'm not your white knight in shining armour. How REM-whipped do you take me for? You need to deal with the repercussions of engaging with Anxiety yourself. Only then will I even consider coming back to you.

Sleep

--

Dear Sleep,

You can't do this to me. I need you.

Love,

Carrie

--

Oi Carrie,

So you're going to go crawling back to sleep after everything we've been through? How can you do this to me? To us? I keep you safe. I make your brain pristinely aware of problems. Without me, you wouldn't worry over Nuclear Holocaust or having people leave you to crippling levels on a night to night basis. These are useless thoughts that an individuals needs to ponder over. Otherwise, what else would we have?

You need me babydoll, and you know it. Without me, you are nothing.

Society is falling at the seams,

Anxiety

--

Dear Anxiety,

I hate you. Eat a fat dick.

I COMPEL THEE. WITH THE POWER OF SATAN I REPEL THEE.

Carrie

--

Dear Carrie,

From what I've heard, you're a reformed person. You've expelled Anxiety from your life and now you're taking measures to exercise more and maintain a proper diet.

From this, I think we could maybe work things out between the two of us. I wouldn't mind seeing you sometime.

Things are looking better,

Sleep

Dear Sleep,

I would absolutely love to see you!

When are you free? We should grab coffee (haha, coffee, only kidding!)

Grateful,

Carrie

--

Dear Carrie,

You'll be back.

Everybody dies alone and scared,

Anxiety.

What I've been doing

Sorry I haven't updated in a while.

My life has just been so exciting and hectic and magical. I've been trying out all these spectacular and wonderful new things. I can't describe in words how thrill-seeking my life has been lately!! I'll draw you pictures instead to encapsulate the excitement!

Here's what I did for the whole of last month.

If I had to place a theme to it, it would be spontaneity, pro-activity and pure adult-rated ball busting adventure!

Two weeks ago wasn't any less busy.  It was so crazzzzzy. The parties were so awesome. I met so many new people and did so many new things. I felt as if there was no end to the new and interesting experiences! I was so conked out by the end of it!

Last week was a bit slower, but still my schedules were filled up to the brink. I found I really had to push myself to get everything I wanted to done. Here just a few of of the things I did:

In a movie about a guy who kills himself, Robin Williams famously created the quote "seize the day" This encapsulate my Monday. I did, indeed, seize the day! And then I stood on a table just to honor his teachings in this world!

And Tuesday!

 Yesterday was probably the high point of my ENTIRE life!

Today is going to be so jampacked. I've got the whole day planned out. So many new things to try! So many opportunities seized! So many exciting people to meet and talk to! I can't even begin to describe what I'll be doing! Let's just say, it's going to be a total ripper!

What will tomorrow bring me!?!?!

What I really want to say

Also known as what's been going on.