i opened a bank account when i was nine years old i closed it when i was eighteen i gave them every penny that i'd saved and they gave my blood and my urine a number now i'm sitting in this waiting room playing with the toys and i am here to exercise my freedom of choice i passed their handheld signs went through their picket lines they gathered when they saw me coming they shouted when they saw me cross i said why don't you go home just leave me alone i'm just another woman lost you are like fish in the water who don't know that they are wet as far as i can tell the world isn't perfect yet his bored eyes were obscene on his denim thighs a magazine i wish he'd never come here with me in fact i wish he'd never come near me i wish his shoulder wasn't touching mine i am growing older waiting in this line some of lifes best lessons are learned at the worst times under the fierce flourescent she offered her hand for me to hold she offered stability and calm and i was crushing her palm through the pinch pull wincing my smile unconvincing on that sterile battlefield that sees only casualties never heros my heart hit absolute zero Lucille, your voice still sounds in me mine was a relatively easy tragedy now the profile of our country looks a little less hard nosed but that picket line persisted and that clinic's since been closed they keep pounding their fists on reality hoping it will break but i don't think there's a one of us leads a life free of mistakes...

I'm finding music is one of the most comforting things for me at the moment.

I found myself talking to a stranger last night, out of desperation. Someone i've never met and will probably never meet again. He was a writer, and we were talking about peoples stories. About how my book is about the people whos stories wouldn't ordinarily be told, because i find ordinary people far more facinating. He told me i looked pale and sad and insisted i talked. He was a bit of a hippy and said that i would feel better if i just let it all out. I love hippies. So i did just that, i told him everything i could think of telling anyone, ever. It was so cathartic. He just nodded, tilted his head on the side and said things like "I see." I didnt even need him to say anything because, in truth, i'm so sick of people trying to give me advice. It feels like advice central round here, but maybe its just all the stuff i've been reading. So i told him all this, then felt a little stupid. He was cool though and i guess i feel better today because of it. When i talk, i get things straightened up a little. If you think about it, if you're going to tell a story, you have to sort things out enough that they make sense. Thats what i needed.

So this is where i am right here and now. I'm 19, broke, unemployed, on holidays and living in a house that makes me strong but unhappy. I'm pregnant to a guy who has, in the past, been pretty bad for my health to say the least. He's now with someone else, who doesn't know about the baby, and probably never will. I feel bad for her. I'm more scared than i've even been in my whole life and i feel pathetic because of it. I feel like i dont have the right to be scared, or feel alone, or be angry. I cant tell anyone and i feel bad about that too. Not that it has anything to do with them. I wonder how my parents would feel if they found out later that they could have had a grandchild. God, they'd be devastated. At the same time i feel good - kind of...empowered. Although i dont know if thats the right word. Every now and then i find myself smiling about this whole experience.

I had a dream last night that i was about 7 months pregnant. i was on this beach, wearing a floaty white dress and a flower in my hair. My hair was heaps longer than it is, all curly and angelic (which definately comes from that lady on the tram yesterday who said i looked like an angel in the light!) It was sunset. It was all exceptionally romantic in a movie kind of way. It was just me, and i was wandering along and then simon was there and he was telling me i looked beautiful and healthy. And then we sat down and he was playing his guitar and i was just lying back on the sand and looking at the sky. I remember we always talked about how, one day, we were going to get married and have kids, and walk along the beach together in the summer - in the days we thought we'd be together forever. Well, it was just like that. I never knew my mind worked like that. Freud would have a few things to say. I also didn't know i still thought about him, but i guess i do.

Anyway, i should go.

Ahhh. Guess what? Natalie is 6 weeks pregnant, as she decided to inform us all, and tell us all her new and exciting information. She went on and on about how, at 6 weeks, the baby is already fully formed and has arms and legs and a brain. It even has blood flowing in its veins. Then, she pulls out a picture that she just got at the doctors. It was awful. I just had to sit there until i couldn't take it any more and then got up and ran out and cried more. Try explaining that one. I didn't know any of what she had to say. I feel sick. I had no idea that a baby grew so quickly. Its amazing. Then, i was just looking up information and dad walks in AGAIN. I couldn't close the window and my heart went psycho crazy, and i'm just stressing out. Why is this so fucked up? I know i wrote only a few hours ago but my god i'm getting all paranoid and...anyway, i'll go again. Just wanted to write about how horrible the last hour has been.

welcome to a really bad week. I feel like my life should be a tv show, perhaps called "felicity" if that weren't already taken. I feel like shit, physically and mentally. I just cried for the last three hours and i cant really explain why. Well i can and i cant. I just also threw up again, which totally sucks and i'm so sick of it. I hate this situation so much, so so so so much. I'm feeling so much that its hard to know what to write. I just got an email from andrew and it made me bawl and dad comes in and i had to make up some reason for it. It was so lame. Andrew cant tell Katie because she'll not forgive him, so it has to be all secret. I dont know why it bothers me so much. I feel stupid that it worries me. Surely its not my buisness right? I dont know. I dont know anything at the moment, i'm so scattered. I hate this experience, far more than i ever imagined i would. Anyway, i cant keep writing about this just in case dad walks in again. I'm so terrified that they'll find out. I'm scared about anyone finding out and resenting me for not telling them. I'm scared about the whole proceedure and how i'm going to feel afterwards (mentally more than anything). AHHHHHHHHH this SUCKS! I'm never having sex again. I am going to become a nun...or a lesbian. Either way.

My head is spinning, i cant find the right words to say all i want to at the moment, so instead i will use other peoples. This is a poem i stumbled across and think is fucking awesome. Probably my favourite piece of writing at the moment....

angie hart made me want to move to melbourne
and fall in love and drink coffee
and sit in cafes and drink beer
and wear long dark coats
and have a genuine use for the many beanies
i've collected over the years
and love love love love love love love:
(you get the picture)
with furry-hatted girls
with matt-lipstick lips or
no lipstick at all and that's even better.

and we would walk or maybe run
(or maybe skip) through frost-lens parks
and someone would capture the whole thing
on a super eight camera
and there'd be a dog involved
with a tennis ball in it's mouth
and at some stage we would play on swings
and there'd be a bag of hot chips in there somewhere
and maybe an ice-cream but that might be too cold
cos it would have always been cold and
i would have gone to AFL matches
and i would have seen bands and taken up smoking.

and i would have felt that this was really home and
i'd think of my real home and be glad that i had both
but be happy that I'd made the move
and started again and everything would unfurl and
i'd wash my clothes in laundromats and
speak to men and women with lines like my father's in their faces.

and always present would be the earth-colour-wearing girls and
their musically inclined friends
and there would have been guitars in there
and there would have been VB involved
and maybe i would have moved onto Melbourne Bitter
and never drank anything else.

and i would have gotten older and
i would have become a regular at a collingwood pool
and i would emphatically know the tram system
and that right turn traffic rule
and i would have scoured every pub and
i would have scouted every vegetarian restaurant
and i'd have become an activist in some area
and i would have become a prominent spoken word artist
and opened for paul kelly and done
a benefit gig with archie roach and mick thomas and chris wilson
and maybe, just maybe,
somewhere along the line,
angie hart may have been involved.

somewhere i might just have accidentally bumped into her
and she'd give me a version of a knowing nod
and i'd give her one back and maybe
i'd suggest a coffee.

and brunswick street would be all over me and
i'd be all over it like the cheapest suit
i could buy in an op-shop
and angie would say "hey man, i like your suit"

and i'd say thanks and there'd be a pause in the conversation
and i'd almost (but thankfully not)
ask her the rhetorical question:
"do you know what made me move to melbourne?"

and she wouldn't answer
and i wouldn't either
because how can you tell someone that you did something like that
and you hadn't even met before?

but i didn't actually move there and
i've heard she's married an american bloke now anyway.
good luck to her (and him)

every idea passes
every thought has an end.

but angie hart made me want to move to melbourne.

Ok, huge huge week. Just in quick summation:

Monday: Slept in, didn't get to bed until 8.30 that morning. wandered around exceedingly dazed

Tuesday: Went to phillip island with christian, hanna, nick, breece and jasey. Had a big night, drank way too much, fell off the pier, talked to andrew, took hanna to the penguins, played hide and seek in the iga.

Wednesday: Played mini golf (got hit three times by the little kids), drove to kitty miller bay, drove back to melbourne, went to training, went to ians and jammed with him and tim.

Thursday: Saw my beautiful zoe during the day cos she'd finished her exams, we also saw tom and jez at marios (huge suprise), the night i went to some girls 21st at Embassy with Alana, and then we left to rescue Tanya (the english chick) from 'Next Blue', wandered round crown and played air hockey and then drove home. On the way home we found wal stumbling along burke rd, having walked the whole way from greville st. He was so drunk he didn't even know who i was. He then walked home and left the funniest message of all time on my phone that said "press 1 for options. option 1 - where the fuck is wal?" and so on, he'd got lost from my place to his - which is less than a block. haha. couldn't sleep that night, i think i was too hyped. It'd been a fun night though.

Friday: Slept a fair bit again, still feeling really sick. Recorded some songs with Thom and visited dad in hospital. That night i went to tim and ahmy's and we all went to the town hall in nth melbourne. Officially the worst "band" in the history of the world was playing. It was almost painful. Even though i wasn't going to drink i managed to keep finding my glass full and i dont remember the rest of the night. I woke up in tim's bed to my absolute horror, but he promises nothing happened and that i was just complaining that the couch was uncomfortable at the top of my lungs - i figured that sounded like me.

Saturday: Got home at 8, crept into bed. Dad came home from hospital. i went to the city to buy a present for sar with christian and we ended up in some stupid argument again. came home, went to the spit roast thing (yay how boring), threw up some more (oh yes, i'm so well) then went to rossy's 21st. Pretty unexciting party i have to say, but it was ok.

Sunday: Woke up, threw up, played hockey, threw up, came home, threw up and then absolutely crashed.

Today: Woke up, threw up, decided to go to the doctors, my doctor thinks i'm pregnant but i refuse to take a test cos i dont believe him. haha not likely! i think he was just fucking with me. Anyways, now my grandparents are here and i should go say hi.

Thats all for now...