Friday, November 9, 2007

I have a dream

School has been done away with for me....... well for another year anyway. And as I sit here typing with my merry little two fingers I am contemplating....... about what the bloody hell to do now.
You see, a few weeks ago, I was just about bursting with anticipation for what was in store for me when this damned school year was cast to oblivion.
That, imminent fate has now transpired..... as time was the only obstacle there. for those plans? The ones bout buying some big beautiful Hilux, blazing all the way up to Queensland- sleeping out in my swag with just my dog for protection, before reaching my destination to begin a HUGE, EXCITING, ADVENTUROUS lifestyle as a farm worker.

*Dead Silence*

Yes, that does sound like a monstrously ridiculous McLeod's-Daughters-wishful-thinking-theory. But, piss off..those thoughts got me through the last 6 or 7 years of crappy monotonous life.
I've been on farms and stations before, they're no picnic; but I've got enough hope in my heart, skip to my step and enough pent up frustration from the same-old-same-old bullshit to put the realistic dead-weight nonsense back in the toilet and HAVE A DREAM!!!!!!!!!!!
I'm always one to follow my dreams.....9 times out of 10, yes, they do fail and take large chunks of my self-esteem each time, but I still get points for trying. It's un-Australian to not give everything a crack, "even if it's just pissing into the wind" as Jack from "My Brother Jack" said.
Unless the thing your having a crack at is the 40 year old bald bloke in the pub with no teeth and a voice that sounds like a cat running over a chainsaw. You can be let off for just not trying..... just because you can doesn't always necessarily mean that you should (And no I shouldn't be taking this advice myself as far as the McCleod's-Daughters-wishful-thinking-theory goes).
Because, yes...I DO KNOW that following the McCleod's-Daughters-wishful-thinking-theory will lead you to trouble. Like, for instance, I KNOW not all men out on properties have features as finely chiselled as Michelangelo's David, the majority are just misogynist pigs who have spent too long in the best paddock with beer guts the size of their ego's. I wish I had a dollar every time I've been blasted with abuse from those pretentious pricks who gaze at each other in quite the Brokeback-Mountain-way (ignore that).
I could go on and on and on.....I could write a book......I've seriously considered it, mmmm never know, just might one day.
The point is I know the dangers and risks I take to do this crazy shit that often leads to a dead end, but I just don't think that there could possibly be a worse feeling than regret. I am terrified of one day looking back and thinking What if? Or just plain Fucking hell!

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