I've been going on a little trip through memory lane while clearing out some of the old stuff in my old room, now that I've moved back to my grandparents' house.
The stories I used to write have really made me smile, and so I'm going to copy some out, here, without fixing any gramatical errors (as I was only 11 years old at the time).
Mother Would Be Proud
My name is Victoria Melissa Giornio-Vanhaugen. I live luxuriously at my father's mansion in the Winter and Autumn, but in Spring and Summer I travel around the world. I have recently returned from a trip to the Carribean in my very own private first class jet.
I am very beautiful. My eyes are glistening sapphires against my soft creamy skin. My hair is soft and golden. I have already had 17 proposals but Daddy says that 13 is too young to marry and that the descendant of King Arthur is only worthy of a prince.
One day, after I had had a shower, and my beautician had done my hairs, nails and makeup. I slipped on a pretty singlet and miniskirt, I put on my sandals and I went outside. To my surprise, standing around the swimming pool were strange and ugly men in masks. Oh no! They were holding my favourite 24-carat-gold and diamond necklace! I didn't know what to do!
Suddenly a great shark leapt out of my swimming pool, gobbled them up, and spat out the necklace. I am never swimming in that pool again. I was very brave. Mother would be so proud of me.
A little too much detail there about how beautiful the girl was, Cass. "Glistening sapphires"? "Soft creamy skin?" And putting her in a miniskirt? And having "strange and ugly" men involved? Can you please just try to be a little bit less gay, Cass? Please?
Bob, Hayley and Puss
Once upon a time there lived an ugly rich man called Bob. Bob was extremely stupid and the only reason he was rich was because he won The Most Useless Person Award. With it he received $20 million, and he spent his money on a new house, a new computer, baby food and dog biscuits, even though his daughter Hayley was 10 years old and the only pet he had was a goldfish called Puss. The rest of the money he gave to Hayley.
Bob was trying to figure out how to turn on his computer (he didn't know what a power button was). It was so hard for him that he fell asleep.
Meanwhile Hayley was playing with the new electro-powered rocket she'd bought. She had inherited her father's intelligence and so she was very dumb.
Hayley put the rocket into the fish-tank where Puss was. The rocket burst into flames and so did the whole room. The reason it burst into flames so easily was because the fish tank was filled with vodka.
Hayley turned on the fan but that just made the flames worse. Bob heard the flames burning and woke up. Puss was a super jumping fish so he jumped out of the window and landed in the swimming pool.
By now the flames were out of control. Bob and Hayley hid behind the TV but it was no use. The house burst into flames and Bob and Hayley were never seen or heard of again.
The only one who lived happily ever after was Puss who got $17 million insurance money and went on an aeroplane trip around the world.
Okay, this one is just disturbed, really. Firstly, I seem to be an intellectual snob. Secondly, I know what vodka is. Thirdly, the goldfish didn't die while swimming in alcohol. Still, I think it deserves illustrations and should turn into a picture book. Anyone?
For anyone who's been paying attention (and I doubt anyone has, as my little ol' blog seems to be a shadowy terrain that only the occasional lost spambot dares venture towards) I just changed my blog title, from Minus Infinity to Cassie Writes.
This was for a few quite obvious reasons - firstly, my previous blog title was associated with a brief summer fling that just happened to preserve itself on my blog for two years. It's awkward how relationship stuff can creep into the professional/somewhat-professional student domain, but there you are.
Secondly, I thought Cassie Writes was a terrific pun on my surname, Wright.
Recently I have been 'hating on' my name, and I thought this was not really justified so I decided to embrace it. Upon doing so, however, I found that the world's most famous Cassie Wright was in fact a fictionalised character from the novel Snuff by Chuck Palahniuk. We are nothing alike.
Here is a link to a video that explains all, but beware - it has sexual references that may offend some readers.
Adrian has written a post calling me "ever regular and impressively reliable".
But it did make me smile.
(Image found here and edited. All rights to the copyright owners.)
For the fifth Integrated Media Video, we had to make a video about ourselves without using US or our voices. This was tricky, until (while filming my day) I figured out I was pretty much defined by the people whose company I kept (my "friends") and my compulsions (namely eating, Kit Kat Chunky Cookies and Cream being -in my opinion- the tastiest chocolate bar EVER.) I therefore combined the two - and this is what you get.
Music: Kevin MacLeod, Constancy Part 3 (incompetech.com) Licensed under Creative Commons "Attribution 3.0"
I feel this a lot.
I procrastinate, yes. I have a short attention span. I don't do things when I'm supposed to.
When I was in Year 12, the co-ordinator realised that this wasn't just laziness. It was perfectionism. Apparently, I'm so perfectionistic that when I feel like things aren't going to be good enough (perfect), I just want to give up. Continuing doesn't seem worth it if things aren't perfect.
This is also starting to have a deep effect on my personal life. It's hard to carry on relationships and friendships when I never feel good enough. I'm constantly scared that they'll realise how terrible I am, and leave me. Realise that I don't put in enough effort, that I'm lazy, selfish, and a multitude of other things.
When I came to Uni, I was worried about talking to certain people, because I thought they would think that I was
- a loser.
I thought that they wouldn't want to talk to me.
Soon I forgot my fears, and now I talk perhaps a bit too much, but that's okay because I feel comfortable around them. I still worry a lot, with some of the things I say and do constantly running through my head over and over again.
Things are a lot better now, but I'm not sure if I'll ever feel well and truly okay with myself.
I wish I could be.
I've always been the kind of person to let out a little too much information. I think this may be because I'm a bit too public, or maybe because I try and work out details of my life through talking about it with other people.
I've been thinking, though, and Jess' constant statements about me saying a little too much on my blogs have made me more careful with what I post on there. It's hard to be free with letting out all that
whingy emo angsty emotion when i know that, come monday, he'll be at uni mocking everything I've written. (Not that he's insensitive, or anything. he's ridiculously funny, but the point is that perhaps i am coming across a little bit too strong.)
In putting together all the information for our hypertext essay, one of Jess' posts really struck a chord with me. Although our 'personas' for our hypertext essay mock-social-networking site, 'Interfaced', were mostly exaggerated (he said he'd just made up reading a blog post I'd written about my friends 'backstabbing' me) there was an element of truth buried underneath it. (For example, I realised that everything he'd written could be absolutely true if he'd gone back to my ancient Myspace blog...which unfortunately for me, still exists out there in cyberspace. He wouldn't have been able to read it, because we're not 'friends' on Myspace [who uses it anymore?] but that's not the point.)
There is a part of me that needs to get certain things out though, in writing, and for me, blogs have been the easiest way. Since they're on a computer, there's no chance of my mother stumbling upon it (she has gone through my room before and found things I'd written down, which effectively ruined my life...but that's another slightly too personal story I shouldn't go into here - see, I'm learning!). It also means I have a record that I can look back on, automatically archived for me, and I'm actually more likely to keep things if they're in cyberspace than if they're written down on bits of paper.
But my problem is that I've been thinking the right thing to do is to get my feelings out in the open. Encourage people to read my blog. Make it accessible to my social network. You see, I'm often interested in the deep emotional thoughts and ponderings of other people, and feel like reading their blogs means I get to know them a little bit better.
The thing is, I've had more bad feedback than good. Maybe I am giving too much away, but I miss getting things out. I've been actually talking about things, upsetting people to their faces, which really isn't the greatest thing in the world.
To combat these problems, I've made a new Tumblr, one that's private and password protected (and so far, only I know the password). That way, I can write what I'm feeling, and have a release, and feel like I'm not going to explode, but have it in a safe, private place, where nobody can see.
That should be good for me, and maybe leave some aspects of my personality hidden so that Jess and I actually have new things to talk about when we see each other. I hope that's enough though, and that the real reason I blog isn't because I just crave attention.
Just like these guys.
maybe it's through doing blog posts,
or more techincal stuff in media,
or maybe i always had a short attention span...?
but it's become really REALLY REALLY difficult for me to concentrate while doing my essay.
I set myself a goal that I'd be finished by 1pm. 5 hours later, 1000 words to go, and things aren't looking so good.
(that's swearing, politely.)