Daylight Day 16: Poetry
I said to Pi, “You know how you wanted to experiment on Ed? Go for it.” “Thank you thank you!”
It was great to see his childish joy.
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I’m too old to be emo, but all the elements are there. Including the poetry. For days now I’ve had a particular poem (of mine) in my head – mercifully, I can only remember a few lines. I’m proud to say this has never seen the light of day (and never should).
Brace yourselves. Here it is (insulting comments most welcome):
. . . Alone
In a crowd.
Lonely
Among friends. . .
Daylight Day 15: Story so far
2 Oct
EMO used to stand for ‘emotional’ – the teen subgroup that’s only happy to be sad. Now it’s become a disease eerily similar to vampirism.
*
My name’s Bell. I considered being EMO once, but then I saw a pretty butterfly and got over myself. Got bored and decided to save the world.
*
This is the documentary tale of the brave few fighting to find a cure for EMO (or, failing that, a quick and easy way to kill all those vampires dead).
3 Oct
In Civic, Ed kissed me and sighed. “Oh, Bell. Cloudy days are so deep.”
“Oh no!” I cried. “Ed, tell me you haven’t been bitten by an EMO!”
*
He didn’t laugh once at our preview of “Saw VI”. I yanked him into a rare patch of sun – and he sparkled. My boyfriend had turned EMO!
*
Finally he confessed: “My mum bit me.”
“Your MUM!?”
He sighed, “Sad, I know.”
“Do you want to drink my blood now?”
“Er. . . no,” he lied.
4 Oct
On the news: “The EMO subculture has now become a pandemic. EMO teens can be recognised by their depression, dark clothes, and bad poetry.”
*
I walked in the yard just as Mum set some weeds on fire. “Mum,” I said through the smoke, “Ed’s EMO.”
“That’s nice dear.”
*
My name’s pretty bad, but my brother is Pi. He’s ten and wears a labcoat. I told him, “Ed’s EMO.”
“Hm. Can I do experiments on him?”
“NO!”
5 Oct
“Ed, it’s the holidays. Don’t you feel a LITTLE happy?”
“No,” he said. “Bell, would it be okay if I drank you – just a little?”
“NO!”
*
“Exodermal Melanin Occlusion is spreading fast,” the news said. “Symptoms now include sparkling in sunshine, darkening hair, and whining.”
*
Ed tried to bite me, and I tripped over another EMO as I dodged him. Bruised my knees. Still not EMO, despite my black hair and long fringe.
6 Oct
Still not EMO, despite drenching rain. All the EMOs are thrilled they’re not sparkling today (Ed almost smiled). Bring back the sun!
*
“Cheer up,” said Mum, “I’ve decided to have a wedding.”
“But. . . you’re married.”
“Don’t spoil it. It’s exactly what all those EMOs need.”
7 Oct
I was dying my hair when Ed called. “Want to play EMO baseball with my family?”
“No.”
He cried until I hung up.
My hair turned green. Oops.
8 Oct
Pi asked me for Ed’s old hairbrush, so I humoured him and brought it. He said, “Bell, I think there might be a cure for EMOs!”
*
Still not EMO, although Ed keeps trying to bite me. Awkward!
9 Oct
Mum said, “Don’t you just love weddings?”
“Does Dad even know?”
“Hush,” said Mum.
Our shopgirl wept quietly as she pinned Mum’s dress.
10 Oct
“Do you think a wedding could cure EMOs?” I asked.
Pi snorted and said, “Has Ed bitten you at all?”
“No, we just make out.”
Pi looked ill.
11 Oct
I saw Dad writing a journal and looking mournful. Uh-oh. Still not EMO myself, despite blood-starved boyfriend and lime green hair.
*
“Don’t let ANYONE drink your blood,” said the news. “Authorities recommend hitting EMOs with cricket bats. Stay alert, not alarmed.”
12 Oct
Ed wore an overcoat and hat to school. Our teachers freaked and put him in detention. I think he bit Mr Joh, the science teacher. Awkward!
*
Ed and I wandered the mall and saw heaps of decorations. Ed sighed, “Christmas is so deep. It makes me feel all –”
“Sad?”
“How’d you know?”
13 Oct
Mr Joh burst into tears while telling us about the reproductive cycle of fruit flies. Ed gave him tissues. This EMO pandemic is so wrong.
14 Oct
Maths class was full of sighs and weeping. (Life hasn’t changed much.) I was put on detention for being insensitive about life’s deep pain.
*
The principal ran detention. He looked thirsty. I shrank in my seat. “Tomorrow,” he told me, “come to my office. Bring your school spirit.”
15 Oct
I brought my school spirit and a cricket bat. The principal grabbed my arm but I whacked him and dived under his desk until the bell rang.
*
Still not EMO, despite listening to principal discuss philosophy for the entire lunch hour. Thank you, cricket bat, thank you.
16 Oct
Ed took me to a graveyard for a date. It was crowded. He licked me on the neck, and I kneed him in the groin. “Don’t you love me?” he wept.
*
Still not EMO, despite kneeing EMO boyfriend in the groin. Actually, that was pretty fun.
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And the weekly disclaimer: I’m making fun of the extreme end of emo stereotypical culture – not emo people (who have enough of a sense of humour to laugh at themselves, I suspect).
There’s a little emo in all of us. Me especially (I promise at least one blog will include my own – published and paid! – emo poetry. . . you have been warned!)
Mental Moments
Yesterday I went to our mechanic to arrange a time for my partner’s car to FINALLY get fixed (it’s been a saga going on for months – every time we take it in for one thing, they find another thing wrong). It’s a service station where I often get petrol, so people know me and both our cars very well – they’ll actually ask how one car or another is running when I buy petrol.
The main mechanic was serving someone when I arrived, so another one wrote down the appointment for me. “And what type of car is it?” he said.
And I froze. Just couldn’t remember. Was it a Mazda – or was that mine? What on earth was MY car (other than off-white. . .)?
“It’s a mazda wagon,” I said at last. “At least, I THINK it’s a mazda. Definitely a wagon. . . definitely. . .”
I wandered off with, as always, images of praire settler wagons in my head. Does anyone else think it’s wrong to call a car a wagon?
Anyway. . .
That wasn’t as bad as when I foolishly went shopping with my husband in an unfamiliar shopping centre. We only had a few things to buy – bread, milk, fruit, maybe a can of tuna or something. So we walked along the aisles together, looking at the signs so we knew where to go. I spotted a whole aisle for alcohol (unusual, since alcohol normally gets its own little section in a corner somewhere) and said, “Mmmm. . . . booooooze.”
My partner didn’t say anything, but what can one say to that? So I just kept walking, chatting away happily. He still didn’t reply, so I stopped and turned around to ask him a question.
Naturally, my husband had wandered off long ago and was nowhere to be seen. Instead, I faced a security guard wearing that, “Yes, I AM watching you” face.
At which point I stopped talking and went to find my straying husband.
Me? Crazy? My friend Bobby the Invisible Bear says I’m just fine.
Daylight Day 14: Shaun of the Dead
I brought my school spirit and a cricket bat. The principal grabbed my arm but I whacked him and dived under his desk until the bell rang.
Still not EMO, despite listening to principal discuss philosophy for the entire lunch hour. Thank you, cricket bat, thank you.
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This is the point in the story that I realised my vampires were more than slightly zombie-like (this, and the infamous “kill them all” line). Consciously or otherwise, “Shaun of the Dead” will always be in my mind.
Lurking.
What Writers Should Expect
Yesterday I received word back from one of the publishers I’ve been waiting on (no not the main one; not yet – they’ve now had the full manuscript five and a half months).
I’m well aware that any publisher who I don’t have a personal connection to is going to send me a form rejection, no matter how close they come to accepting my book. This rejection was unusual because they replied by email (presumably because I’d gently nudged them about their lateness and my self-promotion via email).
It was also unusual because they didn’t bother actually sending it in the body of the email. The body of the email was completely blank. The rejection letter was an attachment – called “Rejection letter – kids”. It made me laugh out loud to be so streamlined. The letter itself was eerily familiar.
Here is what it said (with their picture and name and details at top and bottom):
Dear Ms. Bloomfield,
RE: [name of my book]
Thank you for sending your proposal to [publisher name] for our consideration.
Our editors have now considered the material and unfortunately we don’t feel that it is suitable for our publishing program. It is with regret that we decline your offer of publication.
We wish you every success in placing this manuscript with another publisher.
Yours sincerely
For the Children’s Submissions Editor
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And that’s that. I have one last chance to get a publication contract this year, and I sometimes just wish they’d hurry up and reject the darn thing.
Two more good chances for early next year, though. . .
My honest advice to anyone who’s been writing less than five years full-time remains a single word: Don’t.
If that just makes you go straight to your computer and write, then you might have the necessary mentality to keep going until you get somewhere. But probably not.
Daylight Day 13: School
Maths class was full of sighs and weeping. (Life hasn’t changed much.) I was put on detention for being insensitive about life’s deep pain.
The principal ran detention. He looked thirsty. I shrank in my seat. “Tomorrow,” he told me, “come to my office. Bring your school spirit.”
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This blog entry is rated PG for violence.
I once dreamed I was Buffy (who doesn’t, really?) and I was lured to my old primary school where the principal* was the leader of a gang of vampires. It was an ambush! ARG!!
On another occasion, I dreamt of a battle on the school oval, and distinctly saw the principal using the severed head of a long-haired student as a flail (that’s a weapon where a heavy object hangs from a rope or chain, so it gets extra velocity when swung at an enemy). Later on in the same dream, I was attempting to assist several wounded 6th-graders and was utterly at a loss due to their dozens of deep gashes, crushed limbs, etc. Then I noticed one of the girls had a bullet hole. “Oh thank goodness,” I thought. “I can cover THAT with a bandaid.”
The moral of this story is that school is scary BEFORE the EMO vampires take over.
*not actually the principal, but it makes the story better – and less track-down-who-it-really-was-able.
Daylight Day 12: Buffy VS Edward
Mr Joh burst into tears while telling us about the reproductive cycle of fruit flies. Ed gave him tissues. This EMO pandemic is so wrong.
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All I can say is that I stumbled across this by accident, and – you’re welcome. Go thou to this site, and watch the video of Buffy VS Edward.
Daylight Day 11: School
Ed wore an overcoat and hat to school. Our teachers freaked and put him in detention. I think he bit Mr Joh, the science teacher. Awkward!
Ed and I wandered the mall and saw heaps of decorations. Ed sighed, “Christmas is so deep. It makes me feel all –”
“Sad?”
“How’d you know?”
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It’s a sad fact that today, students all over Canberra are going back to school. You have my deepest sympathy.
How to tell if your science teacher has turned EMO:
1. He/She sparkles in sunshine.
2. He/She suddenly decides to teach poetry instead of physics this week.
3. He/She has what the Buffyverse calls “neck rupture”.
4. He/She weeps quietly during the lesson.
5. He/She attempts to bite you and drink your blood.
Remember kids, stay alert, not alarmed – and keep your cricket bat within arm’s reach.
Daylight Day 10: Canberra
I saw Dad writing a journal and looking mournful. Uh-oh. Still not EMO myself, despite blood-starved boyfriend and lime green hair.
“Don’t let ANYONE drink your blood,” said the news. “Authorities recommend hitting EMOs with cricket bats. Stay alert, not alarmed.”
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“Daylight” is set in Canberra (Australia’s capital), since that’s where I live.
Canberra has a population of 300,000 (yes, I know) and is conveniently located three hours from Sydney. We’re infamous for cold Winters (including biting winds from the snowy mountains nearby), and get snow about once a decade. On the other hand, one of the great things about Canberra is that we have very few murders here.
Hurrah!
Daylight Day 10: Weddings
“Do you think a wedding could cure EMOs?” I asked.
Pi snorted and said, “Has Ed bitten you at all?”
“No, we just make out.”
Pi looked ill.
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More wedding advice:
Your first priority is your relationship, and your second priority is your family. Your third is keeping your friendships (even picking your bridal party is a minefield).
1. Your relationship
I recommend scheduling at least one no-wedding-talk day a week, and dating your fiance that day. I also recommend NOT getting into debt. Does the ultimate photo really mean more than having a little less stress in the difficult early days of your marriage? My number-one piece of financial advice is that, unless you have at least $20,000 to spend, DON’T have a reception at all. Just have an afternoon tea at the church. People generally understand if you make sure to be clear about what’s happening well in advance (and DO NOT try on a dress if it is too expensive for you). And if you fiance and your mum both insist on something, your fiance gets to choose.
2. For family, my number one piece of advice is having a long engagement, with about five possible dates which you check with both your inner circle (parents, best friends), AND THEIRS, before sending out invitations. Number two is that, if they’ve given you money, they have a right to make certain demands (as long as the demands don’t exceed what you’ve been given).
Planning a wedding is the most stressful thing I’ve ever done, and it will probably be the most stressful thing you ever do. The industry is designed to manipulate your sensitive emotions to get alarming amounts of money out of you. Having a small, simple wedding shows that your relationship is more important than your ego.
Felicity Banks 