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.
Daylight Day 9: 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.
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And a quick please-don’t-flame-me reiteration: EMOs are not emos. EMOs are vampires (with a hint of zombie). Yes I am mocking emos, but keep in mind this is fictional territory. If you don’t like it – sorry. If you honestly think it’s harmful, please let me know and I will consider your argument/s.
Daylight Day 7: Pi
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!
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Okay, I confess: Pi is my favourite character.
His real name is Peter, but he took the name Pi after discovering (age five) what it meant. Pi the number is roughly 3.1415986535 (I think it repeats – but only after several thousand decimal places). The symbol looks like a wobbly table (I bet there’s a way to type it, but not one that I know). It’s very handy for heaps of circle-related things in maths (for example 2 x pi x the radius will get you the circumfrence of a circle).
Pi himself is short for his age, short-sighted, and has sticky-uppy hair due to the fact that he rarely remembers to brush it. He’s not based on anything from “Twilight”. If he’s based on anything, it’s the mad scientists from the “Girl Genius” comic book series. They’re the type of people that wake up one morning to find a giant chainsaw-wielding robot beside the bed – and have to figure out what they made it for (and how to survive until breakfast).
Except for the superpower-type intellect, Pi is the character I most relate to.
Blood
PG for mention of adult content.
I (more or less) achieved something today I’ve been trying to do for around thirteen years. It wasn’t major book publication. It was donating blood.
I always seem to have a cold or some other minor illness, or a recent tattoo, or a bad medication. Plus it’s simply an unfamiliar task (yesterday, I mopped two and a half rooms for the first time. It took all day, and I only managed it by using no soap or bucket – just cold water from the tap. Even in my own house, an unfamiliar task spins my world into disarray. Either that, or cleaning is just a health risk).
My husband and I went to donate blood some months ago, and there was some reason I couldn’t do it (a cold, I think). He did, and I at least got to know what the waiting room etc looks like (making the place slightly more familiar).
It really creeped me out even then. I think it’s that doctors (if they’re any good) do a convincing job of seeming to care. Most of the time I feel I’m able to hide my craziness behind the simplest of facades – but not with doctors. Weird but true. Also there’s SO much occupational health and safety stuff that I feel certain something horrible is about to happen (OH&S always has this effect on me – it was arguably the number one reason I decided to quit regular classroom teaching).
I tried to set up an appointment for last Monday (public holiday), so my partner and I could go together. Not surprisingly, it was closed. But I made an appointment for just me, today. Even at the time I realised it was dumb.
I’m a little anaemic, plus anxiety makes me sluggish and unco – as if I’m drunk, sometimes. And there was no knowing if I’d have a weird first-donation reaction like fainting or something. (I’ve had dozens of shots, but have become less and less able to deal with the slightest bit of pain or blood. I’m turning into a friggin’ GIRL!)
Aaaannyway. . .
The preceding night and morning I ate a LOT and drank (water) even more – as per the web site instructions.
I got hopelessly lost on the way (already having a panic attack – crying, and unable to remember even the simplest directions for more than half a second), but luckily stumbled across the right street, and even parked in the right place. That was the first hurdle. The second was getting a parking permit from reception, putting it in my car, and going back in.
This is the kind of thing I find really difficult – not sure why. On the way out I dropped the ticket at the door, struggling to not cry, to carry my bag, and to push the door open. As I picked it up, I stumbled into the door and a nurse (or someone – I averted my face) asked if I was all right. I wasn’t able to answer.
Put permit in car. Closed and locked car. Went back in. Picked up folder with form in it. Filled out form (no I have never had man to man sex). Another hurdle down.
Waited, reading a book I’d prepared earlier and eating lollies I’d also prepped.
Had my “interview” where they follow up on the form (“Are you SURE you’ve never had man to man sex? And how recently have you not had man to man sex?” – okay, I admit they didn’t follow up on that bit) and also prick a finger very slightly to test your iron levels (which for me they did twice because the first reading was incorrect). Didn’t cry. Mentioned anxiety without crying. All good. Managed to take off my jacket without braining myself or the nurse, or flailing enough to damage expensive medical equipment (clothes freak me out, too. Especially heavy outer clothing).
The nurse could tell I’d drunk a lot because my blood was flowing beautifully. Yay for gushing torrents of blood.
She gave me a first-timer sticker for my shirt, so people “know to keep an eye on you”.
Went into the big room with the comfy chairs and the ominous arm-rests. It reeked of efficiency, competence, and sanitation. I actually liked the fact that the chairs look like dentist’s chairs – dentists are usually borderline psychotic (in my opinion) and don’t really care if you’re in pain. I like that.
Sat down fine, and was more or less okay as they put a strap on my upper arm and poked at my veins while I squeezed a foam ball.
Blood is life-force. Every writer knows that. I’d tried not to think of the symbology of what I was doing – having my life-force sucked away in the goriest possible way not involving CGI monsters. Naturally, I failed.
Oh, and of course I had to try to keep still. (I’ve heard that’s the toughest aspect of Chinese water torture.)
The instant the needle went in my arm, I cried – quickly attracting a small crowd. I was very lucky – I was still able to speak (“it’s just anxiety, no it doesn’t hurt, nothing’s physically wrong”) and I was mercifully snot-free (since there was no way I could blow my nose).
Someone fetched me a drink of water (with a straw) which actually was extremely helpful – symbolically, the intake of water balanced the outtake of blood, so I felt that I wasn’t losing anything.
Unfortunately, it turns out I was wrong about my anxiety being only crippling and humiliating to me. It turns out it slows blood flow, too. The staff got some blood, but it was so sluggish they thought their machine was either broken or about to be broken, and they gave up.
So. . . fail. But success too, because they have enough of my life-force to tell me my blood group “for next time” – which is something I’ve always wanted to know.
I cried plenty more in the recovery room (weeping into my free strawberry milkshake and chewing morosely on my jellybeans of shame), and SMSed my husband to please leave work and take me home – which he did.
For obvous reasons, I’m never going back.
Daylight Day 6: Twilight Review
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.
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Since this refers to a specific incident in the “Twilight” book, here’s my review (apologies to those who’ve seen it in the other blog). It’s worth noting that I wrote this long before coming up with the idea for “Daylight”. . . but you can see exactly where the vampire/emo inspiration began.
STEPHANIE MEYER
Twilight (I only read the first one)
Excellent writing style, good characterisation of the hero (for sympathy – it irks many readers that she has no flaws whatsoever). Almost no plot (other than romance) for hundreds of pages, which annoyed me (there’s about 100 pages of action at the end). The whole basis of the romance seemed to be physical (rather than anything to do with the personality/lack thereof of either party), which also annoyed me.
MUCH angst. Much talking about angst. Probably would have been better at half the length.
Rating: PG (sexual symbolism) to M/MA later in the series (on-screen sex). Mild violence.
Recommended for: emos. (ooh, the claws come out!)
Approximate quote: “Ooh, you’re ever so pretty. It’s so hot that you want to eat me! I’d rather DIE than be single, wouldn’t you? Oh that’s right, you are dead. . . Let’s have babies!”
Daylight Day 5: Wedding Advice
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.”
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Wedding advice:
Step 1: Elope.
Step 2: Apologise for eloping.
Felicity Banks 