Sad story

I sung this at the arts awards when I was in grade 12. I was embarrassed and terrified. My Grumpy watched this damn video over and over and over again. He would call me just to remind me how much he loved it. My Grumpy really loved me. He was a terrible father. A controlling, conservative, sexist, racist, insensitive retired police officer turned Barrister turned old man.

He told me the day I was born was the day he changed. He filmed the whole fucking time Mum was in labour, he used to film everything. He was terrible at it, so shaky and lots of very, very boring shots of the family drinking in silence by a pool on Christmas day. He used to cook us deep fried everything and made us watch Mamma Mia 100,000 times. One time, him and Nana took me to a secret island and in the trees we found a present that the fairies had left me. They were really great grandparents before they got sick.

Nana was sick for 2 years before she died. Motor Neurone Disease and it started in her tongue. My auntie moved her wedding forward so Nana could make it, it was a fairy tale wedding and Nana was goldilocks. She couldn't speak at all at that point. We hadn't heard her voice for almost 2 years. Now, when we are all together we sometimes call her mobile and listen to her voicemail. That 15 second clip sends butterflies of comfort through my body. She used to throw us "happy unbirthdays" just so we could get presents and play party games. She to me was pure love and security. I was mad at the world for a long, long time for letting her become so sick. She loved Jesus so much and she wrote books and books of love poems to him. She used to write short stories about my cousin Harley and I. We would meet unicorns and play with fairies.

I used to tell Grumpy he was only allowed to tell me he loved me once a day because it was too annoying. I don't think I told either of them I loved them. Grumpy died in August this year, he had Parkinsons Disease. He had been in the nursing home for a couple of years and it was normal for him to go downhill and then be fine again in a week. I had been meaning to visit him for a couple of months, but I'd moved house and got a new job, I was busy. Mum called to say things were very bad. I missed the first train there and we walked in about 5 minutes after he died. I just stood there holding his yellowed hand and laughed as Mum and her sister warned Nana he was on his way.

My auntie said when she opened the internet on his iPad that day, he had 8 safari browers open of just my name in google and I didn't even bother to call.

WOW WHERE HAVE I BEEN

Hi Team,

It's been a while, hasn't it? It's just because I started this blog to make me feel better when I needed to made to feel better and lately I've just been feeling better. I'm working full time (lol wtf how?), I make my bed everyday, I haven't been partying any where near as much as before... I'm not doing any plays, any writing, any films. No exciting flings and no holidays. What's weird is now I finally feel like I have my shit together? Now I am supposedly an adult, a functioning member of society and fuck me dead it's boring. How do I get out? I like my job, it supports me, forces me to eat 3 meals a day, I'm living more than comfortably. How could I possibly quit to become a struggling artist again?

UGHHHH because I love art so much. I love acting and writing. I love having a different schedule every week and complaining about having rehearsals until 10 and work again at 6. I'm not trying to glorify living off the government and halfheartedly going to uni. I haven't really worked out another option. Maybe there's a mid point?

I can't be bothered travelling, or writing, or going out for auditions. Am I depressed? Nah, I feel fine. Like so fucking fine. I'm not anxious at all either. I'm just taking a break, I'm sure life will get crazy again soon.

I went to hospital a couple of months ago. We think a cyst burst in my ovaries. I was hungover and stoned, it was a Saturday morning. We were walking to the markets at the powerhouse and I suddenly felt like I was going to pass out. My friend was inside the night owl getting a drink and I just ran into someones front yard and puked. After I puked I couldn't move at all. I was just lying in this strangers front yard, waiting for my friends to come find me. When they did, they put me in the back of an uber - giggling at how hungover I was. After about five minutes in the uber was when the cramps started. I've never felt so much pain. It was the first day of my period but this was way worse than any period pain. I was passing out in the backseat from the pain and I thought "is this when you call an ambulance?" No one ever tells you when you're meant to call an ambulance. I imagined the uber pulling up to my house and tried to picture myself walking to the front door. It wasn't going to happen. I couldn't move any part of my body, I was just in so much pain. The worst period cramps I've ever had were exploding through my body and I could feel the pain spreading down my thighs and up my back. I finally got the words out "I'm sorry, but I think you're going to have to call an ambulance".

As we waited for the ambulance, I curled up on the side of Brunswick Street. People just kept coming up to me to check I was okay. An older man stroked my arm and told me it was my appendix and the surgery would be over in a couple of hours. I made the decision that if I shat myself, it would be okay. I called my Mum and just cried. The older fello kept telling me to hang up, not to bother her. I screamed back at him to fuck off, I need my mum.

The ambos thought I was in labour.

Until I told them I was high and definiteeeeeely not pregnant. They told me there was nothing they could do for me. I begged them to take me to hospital. I couldn't work out how to articulate to them that I knew my body and I knew this was not okay.

I was in hospital for hours. They made me pee in a cup and they took my blood. I spoke to only male doctors who pushed my stomach a few times and asked me if I was "bleeding down there." When I told them it was like the worst period pain you could ever imagine, times ten, of course they had no idea what I was feeling. They sent me home and told me it was probably because of my wild night.

So I stopped going out. I'm scared to drink. I get the pains everyday, just a little bit. I'm sure I'll be fine, the doctor said so.

My life has changed since June. I don't know where I am mentally, I'm happy. I'm getting to where I want to be. I'm learning what scares me. Maybe my next step is learning why those things scare me. I'm not going to drink anymore. I've deleted Facebook. I'm not hanging out with anyone I don't feel comfortable around. Friendship should be effortless. I'm going to eat real food. I'm going to go to the Physio and not stop going until my tendon is healed. Then I am going to exercise. I need a clear mind and a healthy body. I'm not going to be 20 forever and I need to get shit done. But who am I if not messy and forgetful and reliant on alcohol? I had a bad acid trip once. I had an epiphany. I realised the world does not revolve around me. I am not nothing, I am something but everyone is something. I have to stop trying to get everybody to like me. I can't meet every single human and be their friend. Sometimes there are cool people you don't get to be friends with. Such is life. Such is Gemma.

my super lame super artsy artistic statement for my one woman show

As a teenager, I was obsessed with the idea of doing things the ‘right’ way, so much so that at 13 years old I found myself googling "How to be a perfect teenager", “How to dress warm and still look good”, “How to get a boyfriend”; I needed order and control and perfection. This I now realise was a naïve attempt to understand myself and what I was doing ‘wrong’ in my life, but lately I’m learning that there is no ‘right’ way - at all. Every human on earth experiences anxiety, self-doubt and loneliness and whether we’re living right or wrong we’ll never know, every one of us is just trying to survive and find ultimate happiness on our messy planet.

I’m inspired by our differences as humans, and thoroughly enjoy working out what makes someone tick, what makes them behave the way they do, feel the way they do. I am hugely curious as to what brings certain people together and why I have an invisible magic string connecting me to people I have met for 5 minutes.

Our ultimate entertainment is reality and our constant drive in life is to understand; simply we appreciate stories of others that make mistakes, experience loss, and love because it's inevitable that we all face these emotions, this compassion and empathy connects us and ultimately helps us further understand ourselves.

Each of us have a personal movie filming in our brains, every day the reel rolls and we have a chance to change the story, characters and setting but the final production will only ever have 1 viewer; you. What if you could let someone into your brain movie? Show them exactly how you are wired? Really truly who you are? GirlGenius explores our personal secrets, fears, habits and idiosyncrasies through the character of Benny, in which whom is based off myself, Gemma.

I began writing when I was living in Chicago, I was alone a lot of the time and was learning a lot about myself and the world at a rapid pace. Writing allowed me to catch up with my brain and my emotions. I quite organically began writing about myself and it occurred to me that I was writing my own autobiography at seventeen. It’s been years since then and I am finally ready and able to mold my years of prose writing, theatre education and life experience into an energetic, passionate and honest production.

I don't think I'd understood grief until now. I still don't understand grief. Loss. I want to talk about it. It makes people uncomfortable, it makes me feel better. I knew him, we talked, I didn't dream that. He wanted me to tell him why people didn't like him. He was one of the good ones. Honest, good heart, genuine. I'm so sad. I'm so confused, am I allowed to feel sad? I hadn't seen him for years. I didn't reply to his messages. I thought it didn't matter. I wish we could hang out. But it's done. He's gone. I'm too late. What scares me more is that in my life I am definitely going to feel this way again. I'm going to have to say goodbye to everyone I love. I love so many people.

Today I found out a friend of mine took his own life. We were friends particularly in grade 10, I was a loner and so was he. Kids in grade 10 are awful. We hardly spoke but we knew. I almost went to a Greens party at the start of the year, I didn't end up going but I saw he did and wished I had gone. He messaged me a few weeks ago and I didn't reply. I always assumed we would run into each other in the future. I enjoyed his politics. Now I think of my other friends of the past that I haven't spoken to in years. I hope you are well. I hope you are happy. I'm thinking of you all today and tell your friends you love them.

I drove home from the funeral and turned the music up really loud. It felt good. I felt so alive.

I have hay-fever
I have bad red wine
I have water boiling
I have had too many chips
I have weed
I have a sore ankle
I have 3 assignments I should be doing
I have a cat that isn't mine
I have a fear of commitment
I have a fear of letting people down
I have a fear of letting myself down
I have a fear of being disliked
I have a fear of being hurt
I have a fear of being hurt
I have regrets
I have no regrets
I have so many regrets.

feeling better

Had a solid 3 week meltdown and I can finally see clearly again
I'm okay and I am happy.
Things are busy and hard but they are worth it.
Plus I still have time to have a beer in bed and listen to my friends' music.
It feels so good to be in the present moment again.

I'm sorry I'm so shit

sick of myself 

don't talk to me for one month

shouldn't live with you, can't live without you 

you're bad for me but I want more more more

so exciting 

get out of my life, don't leave me

come back I love you

stop talking to me let me move on

it's been a year too long 

you are everywhere

I'm trying to cut you out, like sugar. Simply no more. Not simple. No more. It's 2:00am, you invade my dreams out of no where. I wish I hated you. 

this is consent

grapes

beating myself bc i'm not following others' expectations or even my own expectations of what i SHOULD be doing when in reality nothing really matters and i can do whatever i want

i've been eating pretty much, a bowl of pasta, one coffee, a bag of chips and a bottle of wine a day bc that's all my social anxiety of talking to strangers allows

i can't hear this shitty jimmy fallon and ashley benson interview over the sound of my chips crunching

restaurant with a disco ball part 2

UPDATE:
I have eaten a significant amount of pasta and I can't stop watching this bad powerpoint of the night at AM to PM. It's open 24 hours, can you imagine?

I thought I should force myself to meet people and hang out with people. but i came alone, to work out what's going on in my head. That's the trip I wanted. I wanted to write.
I wish i could make up stories. but everything i write is so true. i can't make stuff up. it feels so generic, like lying. I want to go shopping but idk where to go and my foot hurts so bad. Should I order another merlot? i wanna kiss someone but I can't be fucked talking to anyone. What am I doing with my life? I have to stop asking that question. let it happen, gem.
It's funny, when you travel alone you are pretty much void of others influence. People that know you. It's a really good way to get to know yourself and know how you feel about things. I would even say you are the most yourself when you travel alone.

restaurant with a disco ball part 1

the city is cold
I can feel the wind whipping away at my skin
my ankle burns
i stare
i haven't blinked for a long time
Why is there electro music everywhere in Berlin? This is a fancy restaurant.
but there's a disco ball and
ELECTRO MUSIC
there's a candle on the table and I am drinkingi red wine.
What is this place?
Tourism. Must be what the people want.
I'm the only one here, this is so weird. I'm the worst tourist.
I accidentally saw the wall, the berlin wall.
I don't care about the rest, the museums, the tours. I can read that online. I just like being in another place, with total freedom, and getting drunk at midday everyday whilst piling spaghetti into my mouth.
There's a giant LCD screen on the wall that says "PARTY TIME!!!"
I'm the only one here.
The restaurant/bar/club???? is called Am to PM.
Like the song. Is that a song? It should be. Or maybe it shouldn't be. I'm sure this place goes off in the summer. This restaurant/bar/club???, berlin, europe.
I like the winter, it's more honest.
The LCD screen is now showing footage of a male stripper humping the chair that, oh, the chair that I'm on right now. This place does go off in the summer?

alone and happy as fuck

I'm not going to think about it.
Think about what?
Him...it...NOT thinking about it.
Him with her?
I'm not thinking about it.

A German man is sharing my table. Please don't talk to me. I don't mean to be rude but I came here to be alone. To think thoughts you can't think around others. I begin to think a thought and I edit myself. You are alone, Gemma. Alone in this continent, alone in this country, alone in this city, alone in this Starbucks - except for the man sitting at your table - alone in your mind. You are free. Free to think whatever you please. I need to get out of my head. Stay in my head but think about things other than in my own head.

This is my second time in two days at this Starbucks. Writing. I write so much. Hundreds of thousands of words. Would anyone read it? How can I turn my words into a story? Into content others will enjoy? I write for myself but I want to learn how to write for others. About others.

I'm writing a story/play/script about 4 girls that live together. Their names are Essie, Blake, Amy and Mia. I will write a monologue for each of them perhaps.

There are so many spare seats at this cafe. Why is he sitting with me? I'm not approachable. I wonder if he wants to talk to me? Why do so many middle aged men want to talk to me? Why do so little 20 year old men want to talk to me? Why is everyone in relationships? We are so young? Maybe they are happier than me? I'm pretty happy though. Maybe I'm jealous? Maybe I'm still subconsciously in love with my ex boyfriend and therefore cannot find comfort in others. Maybe that's the case. That is the case. I'm a little lonely perhaps. No, I don't think I am. I've never been a cliché before now. I am. I hate it. but the fact that I hate it is what makes me a cliché. A hipster. Dammit. I'm happy though. I'm so content. I'm in love with my friends. I'm safe. I have nothing to complain about. Except Australia Day. Australia Day makes me sick. Change the flag, fuckers.

Starbucks Cliché in Berlin

Beautiful people.

Curly hair boy with big fur coat. 

Long haired blonde. girl.

Long haired blonde. girl.

Long haired blonde. boy.

Boy with strange half pony tail. 

I am anxious they know I'm writing about them.

Beautiful people. 

I'm nervous. 

Look at me. 

I can be whoever I want to be.

I know no one in this city. I'm such a cliché. 

Writing in a Starbucks. I'm not even a writer. Well, I guess to be a writer you must write. I write. 

They are leaving. 

They didn't look at me.