Raeped

Okay so I'm working in this China, teaching spoken English and studying at university.
I work in a kindergarten on weeknights and weekends for extra cash since it's pretty simple.
Just turn up and read out of this book, about ABCs and cats and dogs and shit for an hr.

Anyway I was in this class of 4 yr olds who are normally pretty well behaved, even if they don't understand what's going on most the time.
But today there was this one little shit who was obviously tired and didn't want to learn any more.
He's running around in circles and avoiding me when I try to catch him.
I finally just yell his name and point to his seat.
He responds by pulling down his pants and exposing his penis then jumping around so it flops up and down.
I cringe away. "OH Jesus, dude what the fuck, you little fucker."
Luckily, they don't repeat everything I say.

So I manage to get hold of him, grab his pants and pull them up while he giggles. I then manhandle him back into his seat and using body language and pointing and simple words, try to make it understood that if he keeps misbehaving I will throw him out of the classroom.

Yeah, this makes him sit still for about 3 minutes.

Then he's back to running around again only this time he's grabbing other kids shit and throwing it around.
I figure I'm going to have to go get the normal teachers since if the kids can't repeat at least one thing from my class, even if its just a letter, then I don't get paid.
But before I can go out the door, this other little boy starts howling.
It seems the little shit had punched him in the face.
So now the bastards sitting down in his seat, looking shit scared and yelling sorry to the crying boy over and over.
"Nuh-uh, you little bastard. You're going outside this time." I say.


He must have figured out what I meant since he then runs and sucker attaches himself to my crotch basically.
Hugging me around the top of my thighs while screaming in chinese. "I LOVE YOU TEACHER I LOVE YOU I STAY HERE"
Since I'm not a pedo, this made me really uncomfortable and I tried to pry him off.
Of course, this suddenly seemed like a great idea to all the other kids who zerg rush me.
FFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUU----
So now I got about 20 four year olds trying to hug my knees while screaming at me with one girl sitting on the floor  crying because she couldn't get close enough to hug and another boy sobbing in his chair because his face hurts.
I'm wondering where the fuck the normal teachers are, can't they hear this goddamn commotion? I'm dying in here.

Prying them off one by one isn't working so I try a different tactic.
"AWWW okay group hug! 1, 2, 3, everybody! AWWWW! okay, okay, enough. Time to sit back down."
All the kids move away back to their seats.... except of course for that one little shit who's grinning at me.
"Okay, seriously buddy. Time to sit down." I grab his arms and manage to get him off for about 10 seconds.
Then he twists loose, screams "NO" (in English of course this time, little fucker) and smashes his face back into my groin while getting a better hold of me..... by grabbing onto my ass tightly.


My face goes like O_O and all I can think of is; "oh god, oh shit, oh god, I am so fucked if one of those teachers walks in here and see's a 4yr old with his face buried in my crotch and his hands full of my ass."
At this point, I'm starting to think getting out as quick as possible is the best solution.
So I hobble a few steps, manage to get the kid twisted around so his face is pressed against my hip and I try to resume the lesson.
All the other kids are giggling at him, so he starts to attention whore.
He starts to kiss my thigh while saying stupid shit in chinese.
"I love teacher, she is my mummy! I love my mummy!"
Well apparently this is just fucken hilarious so all the other kids jump up again and zerg rush to kiss what ever part of me they could grab.
The book goes flying while they grab hold of my arms and kiss them all over with wet sticky mouths.
Shudder. So unclean.
All the while trying to top each other in the funny stakes at the top of their lungs.
"Teacher is my uncle! Teacher is my dog! I love teacher daddy!"
Jesus fucking christ I've got a headache.

I manage to shoo them all back to their seats, roughly grab the little shit-stirrer and slam him down into his and work out I've got maybe 5 minutes max before they start misbehaving again.
So I'm like fuck it.

I grab the book, find the first thing in the lesson I can and scream "CIRCLE!" while drawing one on the board. "CIRCLE, CIRCLE, CIRCLE."

I keep screaming it until they say it after me.

Once I figure some kid will be able to repeat it when tested, I just walk out.
Fuck it man.
I make my escape and after a few minutes start to lol, imagining some old /b/ pedo getting the same treatment and dying of a heartattack of joy.

Fucken kids man, never have them.


Also.....was I just molested by a group of 4yr olds? o_O

I am the definition of social retard

Sorry I haven't been around and doing my bit. I've been busy with school. Will start picking up the slack with lots of clicky love.
Here's a quick post about how I hate myself.
Perhaps later tonight or tomorrow I'll put a better, longer, more interesting one.
Right now I just want to let you know I haven't died. ;3

K, so I broke up with my ex about 3 weeks ago now.
Feels bad man.
Anyway finally THE TERRIBLE DEMON HAS STOPPED RAVAGING MY HEART FROM MY CHEST WITH A BLUNT SPOON and I'm ready to get back into the game.

There's a cute guy in my class and we've been making eye contact and smiling at each other for a couple of days. Unfortunately he's from Turkmenistan (maybe? I really can't understand his accent. It's cute though.), I'm from Australia. I don't speak Russian or his native language, he doesn't speak much English and we're both learning beginner Chinese.
Like; "This is my pen! That is her book! My name is...." beginner level.
So communication is pretty much impossible.
I live outside the university, instead of in the dormitories like most of the foreign students.
It's not far enough to be worth catching a bus and just far enough with a medium hill en route to be a pain in the ass to walk home.
The guy's cute passed me a few times on his scooter and waved at me.

Anyway yesterday afternoon, he caught up to me after class and in broken English offered me a lift.
At first I thought he was trying to get me to go home with him for a one afternoon stand.
Then after I agreed I wasn't sure I'd heard him correctly and stood there feeling weird while he unlocked his scooter and just nodded his head to my questions. I silently debated whether or not to just walk off.
Would it seem weirder if I'd heard him incorrectly and I just hung around until he drove off? Or weirder if I'd heard correctly and just randomly started walking away after agreeing.
Blargh.
Luckily I had heard correctly and he started up the scooter and rolled over to where I was standing, offering me a seat.
Small social success! At least until we were on the way.



I couldn't understand his accent and gave him the wrong directions. Twice.
Second time was pretty close to my house and went like this.
"Turn left?"
"Uhh what?"
"Left turn here?"
"Sorry....?"
"Left?"
"Um, yeah, sure."
I quickly realised we were going the wrong way and cursed myself. I should try to listen better.
Anyway when he paused, I just hopped off.
"Sorry, my house is that way. Its not too far, talk to you later."
Walk away rapidly
I think to myself shit, forgot to say thanks. He must think I'm rude as well as weird.
So I turn around and shout awkwardly back "HEY! ummm ....thanks!"
He looks confused and just sorta nods as he's trying to manoeuvre his scooter back around without hitting  any cars or being hit.
I turn back around and practically sprint to my apartment building, feeling a heavy blush beating underneath my skin the entire way.
I don't even know his name.

Goddamnit, why am I so socially awkward?

Sobreviviré Pt2

I had a really strong ending in mind last night but I seem to have forgotten it.....
What was I leading up to? I remembering being really energetic and determined but now I just feel tired.
Picking up from where I left off;

I bounced around a few homes and houses for a while.
Every time it seemed I was starting to get back on track with my life something would happen and I would have to restart over.
I finished school and didn't really have any desire to continue my studies.
Plus my marks were horrible.
All I could think about was getting as far away from everything as I could.
I eventually settled on China as my goal, deciding merely on hope. I had been told you could make money there teaching English and the airfare was fairly cheap.
I picked up part time jobs here and there but didn't seem to be making any progress towards my goal.
As a last resort I moved in with my father down in Sydney. I hadn't seen him in 9 or so years.
This soon proved a mistake.

I had known he did drugs, I just wasn't aware to what extent or how badly they had screwed him up mentally and emotionally.
I had escaped one addict only to end up with another.
He would berate me every morning as I slept on the couch, calling me a cunt and slut and bitch and explaining in extreme detail how I was the fault his life was so bad.
I tried my best to sleep through these, I knew the truth.
I had seen him maybe 5 times in my life before moving in with him, talked on the phone maybe 20 times and my mother had always bitched how he never paid a single cent of child support nor could the govt find him to make him.
Therefore his shitty job, massive debt, tiny apartment couldn't be my fault. Nor had I in any way throughout his life been in a position to sabotage his romantic interests as he claimed. He loved to blame me for his failed relationships, stating all his exes had left him because he had a daughter.
I'm not sure how but he also blamed me for the fact that he never went to get his drivers licence and thus didn't have a car.
I was finally making enough money and moving towards my goal now though so I decided to stick it out.
It wasn't too bad as long as I stayed away from home as much as possible.
I got kicked out a number of times but luckily I had friends who took me for a few days and I never had to miss work.
He also threatened to move out a few times and I'd have to take care of all the bills and rent by myself.
Honestly I didn't care. The first time he'd said he had a new place and was leaving in 2 weeks, I panicked a bit. But after doing the math and the fact that I'd had to pay the rent a few times by myself and was currently buying all the food in the house, I realised his share wasn't too much and I could cover it while continuing to save, albeit at a much slower pace.
Of course he never acted upon any of his threats and I moved smoothly and steadily towards my desired goal.
He also occasionally found distractions in some international travellers who lived in the apartment down the hall.
For a few weeks, he was obsessed with filming this Mexican girl and screaming obscenities at her as she walked past. He was convinced every word in Spanish she spoke was a swear word against him and that she somehow was trying to ruin his life. He was trying to gather evidence to get her evicted. I'm surprised he didn't end up arrested.

My road would have one more bump before I left the country.
Namely waking up one night to my naked father leaning over me, pushing his filthy hand down on my shoulder.
I fought him off and screamed at him that he was a sick, sick bastard. When he realised he wasn't going to get his way he scuttled off to his bedroom and slammed the door.
I locked myself in the bathroom and didn't sleep the rest of the night. I felt disgusted and dirty.
I weighed my options and decided not to move out because I was so close and moving again would most likely wipe out my savings.
I slept on the cold floor of that bathroom for 2 months because it was the only room in the house with a lock.
Sometimes though, my father would get drunk and I'd hear him scrabbling at the lock. Trying to get it undone.
I admit during these times I was a coward and hid under my blanket. Luckily he never did get it open.
Towards the end of my 18th year, I reached the exact amount I needed to get out of the country. I applied for a job, got it and started preparing to leave.
I was ready to go in 3 days.
I probably should've wait 2 more weeks so I had more than the minimum needed.
But at this point I was desperate to get out of the country by any means possible that I didn't care if I starved for a while being getting my first pay.
And so I left and had a kickass time in China.
But that's a much longer story.

Now for the part we've all been waiting for; reflection time and kicking my own ass into gear.

Lately I've been finding myself saying to myself; "Hey, y'know what? Maybe it's okay if you don't get what you want out of life. Maybe its okay to settle for the middle. I mean plenty of other people never get what they want and live relatively happy lives."
No.
Right now, I say no. Nothing less than the best is good enough.
I have fought too hard to just settle for 'okay'
Sure, I could've wallowed in self pity and settled for getting my own place and a shitty job in my own country.
Some people even now talking about killing themselves over less, tell me I should give up. That I should realise how terrible the world is after all I've been through.
No.
I haven't even been through anything.

You want some perspective, go read a "boy called it". His mother beat him, starved him and kept him as a virtual slave down in the basement from a very young age.
For fun she made him eat his own puke and a diaper full of babyshit.
I may have been mentally and emotionally abused, had my own father try to rape me but I have never been made to eat my own puke and babyshit.
There is always, ALWAYS someone worse off than you are now.

I have sat there, shaking and crying, surrounded by 8 big bottles of morphine, a bottle of sleeping pills and some wine to wash it all down with.
I have lifted the morphine to my lips and tried to steel myself to drink it. I know what its like to feel desperate
I refused to give up.
Life has too much to offer and glory is the only option.
We have 50 to 70 years to hammer as big a goddamn mark on history as we can.
You want to end up dirt, with no-one remembering your name or giving a damn about you 10 years after you die? Then go ahead, quit. Be lazy, give up without trying hard, commit suicide.
It's your choice and your waste.


We all have to die, I intend to deserve it.

Sobreviviré

I was thinking about writing about a wedding I recently intended but instead I got talking to some suicidal people today and decided to remind myself what I've overcome.

It means I can never associate my real name with this blog as there's certain sections of my life I would rather die than let others know about. But then, anonymity is what my brothers are all about, amirite? ;]

Perhaps this will also motivate me to achieve more, I've had it easy for too long.

I'll skim over my childhood, it wasn't as shitty as others.

Highlights reel; never knew my father until I was 8. My mother left him when I was 2 due to him coming up to me in a towel and saying "Suck daddy's dick because mummy doesn't wanna."

I often saw my mother trying to commit suicide because she hated her life. My stepfather constantly cheated on her and she'd had a very mentally and emotionally abusive childhood. She could never show affection to me, I can recount on one hands the number of times I have been hugged by her and most of them I hugged her first.

It's the shittiest feeling in the world when you're young to go up and wrap your arms around your mother only to have her ignore you completely or tell you to go away.

It fucked me up a bit emotionally until my teens and I finally acknowledged she was never going to love me.

My mother also tried to kill me and my sisters at least once.

Not actively but through neglect and abandonment. She left both my little sisters beside a river one time and drove off because she was fighting with my stepfather.

I've been left alone in a house, told I was a bad girl and didn't deserve food or to go with her on a vacation.

Luckily after crying my eyes out for a minute, I was logical and phoned a friend and told her mother what had happened and they picked me up and looked after me for a while.

To this day I still don't know what I did to be a "bad girl".

I was removed from my mothers care and placed with my nanna and grandfather for a few years.

These were okay. They were both alcoholics and of course this occasionally created problems but nothing too bad.

I think this is when my irrational fear of the dark began. My nanna liked to lock me in a dark room for no reason and not let me have a single source of light..

Eventually my mother won me back and things were okay for a few years. Not great but honestly, a lot of people go through a lot worse. I couldn't complain.

When I was 15 things were starting to go crazy and this is the start of all the trouble started.

My stepfather had left my mother again for another woman and my mother was spinning out of control.

When my grandfather died of cancer, I used this as an excuse to move in with my nanna "temporarily" to get away from the violence and screaming and fights.

Of course this meant I lost the car I had bought when I was 14 that my mother borrowed because I was too young to drive. I also lost all my clothes when she realised I wasn't coming home.

Unfortunately something had snapped in my nanna. She was fine for the first few months but then started to make weird comments, implying she wanted me to take my grandfathers place. Just stuff like wearing his bathrobe and sitting in his chair so she could pretend he was still alive.

She also got really paranoid about losing me. Often checking on me mulitple times in the night while I was sleeping and not letting me out of the house alone.

I remember one night I was getting a drink in the kitchen when she checked on me and started screaming the house down in a panic. She told me never to do that again.

Her drinking really started getting out of control around this time. She refused to admit she was an alcoholic, always had an excuse. But I remember one time she got really defensive and bitch me out for checking the time when she grabbed her first wine of the day. 

I will admit she was right, I had checked the time because it seemed earlier than usual for her to start. It was 2pm and from that day on only got earlier when she started.

She would then drink until she passed out on the couch.

I didn't mind her when she began drinking for the day or when she was getting close to being passed out. When she first started she was merry and when she was almost done, she was silent. It was a period of time between these two that I hated; when she was in the "mean eyes" stage I had to learn to recognise from childhood.

During this time she would belittle me; calling me ugly and stupid and worthless. That I had no friends, that everyone hated me and that I would never amount to anything.

I tried my hardest to ignore her, to just keep quiet. Only a few more years to go until I was 18 and could be free, I would recite to myself. A trick from childhood, counting down the years until I was 18.

She would goad me more and more bitterly as I ignored her, finally beginning to rage and shout at me until I caved. I quickly learnt that fighting back or denying her words would only prolong the torment. Sometimes into the next day while she was sober.

Eventually I just agreed with her when she started on her rants about my uselessness.

She enjoyed that, she liked me degrading myself.

I soon learnt how to agree with the perfect tone of submissive voice and calm demeanour, while secretly and silently screaming my fury and anger, trying to keep my mind apart. If the tone was the slightest bit off, sarcastic or angry sounding then a fight could rage on for 3 days about how evil and ungrateful I was.

I also learnt precisely how long I could ignore her before she started getting angry.

Its funny how your smiling lips can be mouthing one thing serenely while your mind is busy plotting, raging and crying to itself.

Funnier how that thing can be listing all the ways you don't deserve to live.

I suppose I could've done more, I could've tried to talk to her and kept her happy. I could've been a better granddaughter.

I feel a little regret but mostly I accept that I was probably too young to deal with it in the best possible way.

Things eventually came to a head over something stupid.

Like I said, she was getting more paranoid about losing me and didn't like me going outside alone. The one time of day I had to myself was the hour long walk home. I really enjoyed it, walking nice and slow in the sun and just letting my head air out.

I did occasionally contemplate getting on a bus and riding it until my money ran out. I mainly didn't because I wasn't sure how to set up an adult life and because I only had a few months until I graduated anyway. I had been very tempted to drop out a few times anyway and just run. I'm glad now that I didn't.

The final fight began over my nanna picking me up from school. At first it was just once a week and I didn't mind, I even said thank you and acted grateful even though I knew it was that much sooner to home and I wouldn't be allowed out again for the day.

But then she began picking me up two or three times a week and I started to get angry. I tried to politely tell her a few times I liked walking home and she should relax at home or go out with friends and not worry about me but she ignored what I said.

I know it seems irrational but I felt like I was being robbed of my only alone time when I could relax.

Also; since it was just a few months before I finished school my nanna had begun talking of her plan to move back to England after I graduated and how she intended for me to come with her to take care of her. I had no choice in the matter as far as she was concerned and I was beginning to panic. I wondered if I could ever get free, it sounded like she wanted me to be her semi slave until she died.

I had confessed all this to a good friend who lived in another town. His advice had been to have a good cry and everything would seem better and I would be able to deal with things better. He reasoned since I rarely cry and value control then I probably had pent up emotion.

Unfortunately I took his advice and cried as silently as I could one night while in bed.

The next day I didn't feel any better, just sore eyes and disjointed feeling throughout the day. It was hard to concentrate and my emotions skipped wildly about.

I think this is why when my Nanna picked me up and I tried to tell her I could walk, my tone came out all wrong. She immediately leaped upon this and started asking why I was so evil and ungrateful.

I started crying and couldn't stop. She noticed and demanded to know why I was crying. I couldn't tell her and she became furious. She threatened me and said I would end up like my mother. 

A grave insult from her.

I tried to ignore her but she kept going on and on and following me around when we arrived home.

Eventually in my room I snapped.

And snapped spectacularly.

Although I am short and dark, I am descended from Saxon Berserkers. I have seen my mother lift a car partially off the ground in a fit of temper and my grandfather was always a fearsome sight when in a rage. I would go and hide for hours under bed or in a closet when he snapped.

I was full of energy that was hard to control and shaking. I kept pacing back and forth around my tiny room and demanding to be let outside, to go down to the shops for an hour by myself.

My Nanna refused and tried to talk me out of it. She had switched to pleading and trying to reason with me. Offering me whatever I wanted to just stay in the house.

All I remember is shaking my head and repeating "let me out" over and over.

On one pace past my wardrobe I lashed out with what I felt was a small kick. The heavy thing which was bigger than me, crashed onto its side.

I think that's when fear set in and she realised she had pushed me too far to control this time.

She screamed at me to pick it up before grabbing my keys and going and locking the front door.

I righted the wardrobe easily and paced a bit.

Then I could hear her dialing someone and listened in from behind my door.

She was phoning the police and requesting an ambulance, saying I had a history of mental problems like my mother and had unprovoked attacked her violently.

I remembered how one she had managed to get my mother committed to a psych ward for a month.

I thought "fuck that" and grabbed my ipod, wallet and phone. Acting on instinct I walked calmly out of my room and past hers where she was on the phone.

I went to the front door, not really thinking. A quick jerk to make sure it was truly locked and a glance around to see the keys weren't nearby.

I could hear her asking the police to wait for a moment.

A flash of insight said she probably hadn't thought to lock the back doors all day. I walked as fast as I could to them and found to my relief I was right.

Unfortunately we had a tall fence around the yard and the gate was always locked. Panicking I tried something that probably shouldn't have worked.

The place where the fence met the house wall had a small window sill maybe a metre away from the fence. I ran there and hopped up on the sill. I then jumped diagonally as hard I could at the fence and managed to scramble over with a few cuts and bruises.

I was free, but not for long I figured.

I knew she would try to come after me in the car. Unfortunately there were only two ways to get to town and both of them ended up on the main road eventually.

One way took longer to get there but had the advantage of walking through bush and not being able to be followed easily in a car and the other ended up on the main road almost immediately but I could make better time.

I took the short way and hoped I could get into town before she came after me.

I made it of course. Cried the whole way, freaking out and trying to get hold of someone, anyone with my mobile.

Eventually I got hold of my stepfather and he and his new girlfriend took me in for a while.

And this is where I end part one.

I really wanted to make this just one post and end it strongly with a reminder that I've worked so hard and coped with so much, so why let a little laziness defeat me but.... its 2am and I'm tired.

I'll finish and pump myself up tomorrow.

Powerful Beyond Measure

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OSYtQy9EqTA

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine as children do. It's not just in some of us; it is in everyone. And as we let our own lights shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.."

----Coach Carter(2005)

I have decided what I want my blog to be about: challenging myself.

It's been my dream to be an author for years. I swore I would be published by the time I was 18.
I swore time and time again that I would exercise, learn to dance, take musical lessons and improve myself.
I'm now 20, soon 21 and I've barely even tried.
No more excuses.
Too long have I wallowed in laziness, self pity and indecision. From this day forward I will endeavour to spend every day, every hour and every minute doing my best in whatever I choose to do.

I will set goals and I will use this blog to taunt, motivate, humiliate, inspire and encourage myself until I achieve them.

I invite you to come along for the journey.