Chronicles of a Delusional Mind

Fish is IN

delusionalhitchhiker — Sun, 05 Apr 2009 07:44:04 +0000

u shouldnt be talking ot me at work – im going to tell ur boss

werent u supposed to come here like 3 years sgo to do art at UTS?

Me:

no eventually dropped the idea because europe fascinates me more now

also i like being a corporate junkie

Z:

u do? what u do now then? dont tell me u stopped drawing

Z:

did u plan ur wedding?

Me:

not entirely no

Z:

how was it – u honeymoon?

Me:

i told them what i wanted and my mom/cousins took care of the rest

i planned the honeymoon and it was fantabulous

Z:

where

Me:

malaysia

this island called langkawi

Z:

i know it well

Me:

haha

yeah

gonna buy a boat and go live their

early retirement plan

Z:

well…ur in luck – i just happen to be a boat seller

Me:

haha

come see me in 20 years

Z:

ur retiring wen ur 46?

Me:

^o)

im 23 now, which would make me 43 in 20 years

wanted to retire by 40

Z:

ur only 23? im old

Me:

maybe hang around here, go see europe in three years and then go settle in langkawi and eat fish for the rest of my life

lol yes u are

Z:

and who will catch said fish?

Me:

i shall get me a jack sparrow

Z:

ill be ur fisherman if u cook the fish

Me:

okay

i cook great chicken never tried cooking fish

perhaps the same recipes will work on fish?

Z:

i have complete faith in you – i catch chickens but never tried catching fish

Me:

good then

we make drastic change from poultry to seafood then

Z:

deal

wot will ur husband think of all this

Me:

he would prolly sleep in and wake up to smoke once a while

if my fish cooking is enticing enough he might wake up to eat it

Z:

haha

ur quite the planner – i can see how ud be good at wot u do

Free Fallin’

delusionalhitchhiker — Thu, 06 Nov 2008 10:58:21 +0000

I woke up this morning to the news of Michael Crichton’s death.

Quite unable to express how I feel.

People I like need to stop dying. Like right about now. Stop.

Syd Barrett, Pink Floyd. 1946-2006.

Rick Wright, Pink Floyd. 1943-2008.

Heath Ledger. 1979-2008.

Michael Crichton. 1942-2008.

“Gonna free fall out into nothin’
Gonna leave this world for a while

And I’m free, free fallin’
Yeah I’m free, free fallin’ “

I wash my hands off this wierdness.

delusionalhitchhiker — Wed, 26 Mar 2008 22:03:25 +0000

Wow…this is quite unexpected of me…writing a blog…

So let’s start off with why I’m here, writing away my hunger and misery at 3:30 in the morning. I’m an “aspiring” artist. I say aspiring because…well…I have given up hopes of becoming the next Salvatore Dali or Luis Royo…but a handful of people still believe in me. Why have I given up hope you ask? Simply because…I set out to do something and ended up going down another direction entirely. (Emphasis on going DOWN)Anyhoo, let’s not get into details right away.

I don’t know if anybody is EVER going to read this.I suffer from OCD and ADD. Just a warning and explanation for my randomness and impatience. I have the attention span of a flea. I haven’t been told that, I know that for a fact. I’ve set out to paint so many pictures, ended up with half-done, nonsense scribbles instead. And oh my god, you need to have a face to face conversation with me to understand the concept of randomness.

People around me think I’m mental. That’s street talk for mentally disturbed, ill, retarded, etc. Street talk where I’m from. And no I’m not telling you where I’m from.So I was facing what you can call an artist’s block. I have so many paintings yet to be finished…I just can’t get around to finishing them. Recently a cousin asked me for a glass painting. I bought a considerably large piece of glass. I didn’t know what to do with it. I went out today, with a weird bunch of friends I have. Two of them are usually high on the green stuff, one tends to be as random as me, the other acts all mature. Oh another one just shows up for food. So we were in the car, faced a cockroach incident. There was a big one crawling up my clothes. I flicked it off and the one that shows up for food happens to be shit scared of cockroaches. Also, his car. He’s ready to shit in his pants. And then the one that acts mature points out the creeping thing crawling up the steering wheel. The rodent scurries towards me and I hit it hard with my purse. Oh yeah, I’m a girl. Or so I’m told. The thing with that is, I’m apparently not like other girls my age or something like that. Right back to the cockroach. So it’s lying on its back, but about to flip over. I grab a bunch of tissue papers and try to get hold of it but it scurries away and scurries towards the bottom of my seat.

Now the guy who shows up for food pulls over…either we get rid of the roach or he shits. I open the door and the roach is crawling around the bottom of the door. I kick it hard. It falls on the street. The matured guy is outside the car about to start wondering what’s up and I scream at him to get back in. Commanded, more like it. Food guy pleased. He said something about “new found respect” for me.

Anyhow, I’m at home watching Once upon a time in Mexico. Now Johnny Depp is a fine man. He’s so fine its ridiculous. You gotta be fine, be fine. Don’t be THAT fine. Some people just take it too far. Back to the point….I have a glass of coke in my hand. I stare at the glass while Antonio Banderas is blasting people away with his guitar or something…(I wasn’t interested, Johnny Depp wasn’t in the scene) and it hits me…I knew what to paint on the glass…

So I’m in my room, painting away. I zoned out. The phone rang, IM buzzed and nudged, parent called for dinner, and I missed all that. I finished the glass painting like 2 hours ago. And then I realized I had zoned out… so I was talking to my random friend about it…and at some point I went like…wow I should write a blog. He said yeah, call it the hitchhiker’s delusional mind. We debated, and here I stand. Well sit actually, I have a damaged knee from a football injury 10 years ago. Its not permanent, it just acts up sometimes. Now is one of those times.

So morale of the story? I’m Random. And I’ve decided to write about it. Also, I dream of making grilled cheese sandwiches in the middle of the night and wake up hungry. And I text my friends about it. They text back, “make me one”.