Dear Diary,
I'm officially a Coles check out chick! Can you believe it? After filing an application and then a job interview they finally decided I was worthy of the pittance they pay per hour. Something to celebrate isn't it? My first day was today and boy was it - different. Dragon Lady also known as our boss Jenny Barker was breathing down my neck all day, making sure I didn't make one tiny mistake. She loves the chance to humiliate us - which means yelling at us and making us feel as insignificant as the tiny little packs of cigarettes they have on display at the front of the store. Honestly, she needs anger management classes.
I thought that getting a job at Coles would mean, I don't know, new friends but the only people on my shift today was an old fat hag of a woman with wrinkles so deep they reminded me of the Grand Canyon and enough fat to feed twenty people for Christmas. Honestly, she's about 40 and is everything that I aspire not to be - fat and ugly and working as a check out chick when I'm middle aged. As soon as you see her you want to race back home and do the maths homework you said was too difficult and postponed only earlier. She should do a campaign - stay in school and study hard of end up like me - a smoker, a drinker and a social outcast, someone who little kids hide behind their mothers when they meet.
There's another person - a guy. He's cute in a totally-shy-nerd kind of way. He doesn't talk much but he switches on the charm with his customers. And his smile is gorgeous, mind rattling actually. Like 100 wattage and I sure as hell hope it doesn't blow. Well you know, run out. And he's got deep brown eyes like voids of swirling creamy chocolate and you could just lose yourself in them. He's so - hypnotising. He reminds me of the buskers you find in the street and I just know that he's one of them - someone who would sit for hours in the street with a hat upturned, playing beautiful melodies on his songs, not for the money but for the joy of spreading the sound, spreading his love of music and words combined to everyone but not expecting anything in return.
There's also an aura of sadness which surrounds him - and even when he smiles he can't seem to shake the surrounding sadness which clings to him and doesn't let go no matter how much he tries to pretend he's happy and living life to the fullest. Like he's been through something so terrible that he can't just shake it off. And you feel like going up to him and telling the sadness to just let him go because he's such a gentle looking person. As if he couldn't hurt a flea.
Funny, how I think I know all this but I don't even know his name. Yeah, I haven't even taken the time to read his name-tag. I just sit at my checkout careful not to get caught by Dragon Lady and admire him as he treats the customers like royalty. And watching him is like dipping your hand into a bucket of chocolate and eating it............
Ok, so in a day I've managed to a) get a job B) fall in love with someone who I don't know and c) humiliate myself in my own diary.
I have to say that's a new personal best.
Better be off,
Love always, Simone.

I really like it, the boy sounds so mysterious!

i loove it

mm hot dudeee HAHA

Dear Diary,

Well nothing much to report on my glamorous job. I received my first pay check though - nothing special but still it's better then nothing. It will now take me only 5 thousand years and 50 billion days till I can buy my Mercedes Benz! Haha.

I'm happy to go to work though. Lately mum and dad have been fighting, like non stop. All you can hear is their screaming at each other and the occasional smash of a glass. They don't talk to each other much - coz it always ends up in fighting! Honestly, I don't know if it would be so bad if they did divorce - at least I'd be able to get some sleep at night! But dad's been hitting the booze - he gets really drunk and then just falls asleep, engrossed in his own oblivion. And mum well she's quieter then usual - she doesn't tell me what to do anymore she just lets me do things myself. I don't know if I should be glad about this freedom or scared. I told her today that I was going to this party where there were going to be guys and beer and probably drugs and all she said was, "Ok sweety have fun." HAVE FUN!? That's like my mum's number one thing NEVER to do. I don't think she's enjoyed herself for one minute of her life. And she's always brought me up the same - no boys, no parties, no sleepovers, no movies - I was pretty much a prisoner. I was shocked she even let me get a job - but she said I was growing up and it was about time I started working. Take on some responsibility.

But now this? She's letting me to do anything I want! And that's positively huge!
The party wasn't even real - it was just a test to see what she would say! And I nearly died with shock when she told me her answer!

Anyways, enough on that subject. More about Mystery Boy, as I've now named him! He's so gorgeous - I can't stop staring at him. Luckily our check outs are next to each other. I could sit there all day, leaning on the bench, practically drooling. But I don't think he'd be in to me. He's too much out of reach. It's like he doesn't even know that us girl species exist. Like he's on a different level, that he knows something we don't. And he's rubbing it in but not in a bad way. I don't know how to explain it. He's just......so different. Not like the guys I know who have three goals in life - get wasted, hook up with as many girls as possible and get yourself pounded in football matches all your life. I bet he would treat a girl like a queen, I bet he's one of those guys magazines are always talking about. The sensitive treasure who will do anything for his girl. Oh please, why can't I be his girl???

Oh well, it's 4:45 and I got to be at work at 5:00. So better be off!

Wish me luck with Mystery Boy!

Toodles!

Love Simone

love this!! you need to update more!

Dear Diary,

Home is really weird lately. Mum and dad don't speak to each other at all and the air is thick enough to cut through - honestly, even walking through the rooms are like trying to push yourself through thick air. It's like there is a storm brewing in there - though there probably is. It will only be a matter of time before the lightning strikes, the clouds break down with rain and the thunder grumbles and in short, all hell breaks loose.

Mum doesn't talk to me either. She sits in her room or lies on her bed and reads or just stares out the window, like she has no soul and no reason to live. It's scary seeing her like this. All I want to do is escape from it. I hate coming home and seeing them like zombies. I don't know where their marriage went wrong or what marked their downfall. It just seemed like one minute they were happy and the next they were worse enemies.

And it's not good for enemies to be living in the same house is it!?

It would help if they filled me in on the whole story. But they don't tell me anything, to try and help me fix this or understand it. It's like they don't want me to be part of it - but I already am.

Dad sits on the lounge, smoking and drinking beer. He seems to be in a catatonic state - unable to hear and unable to communicate. He is empty.

I don't like it. I want to scream and shout and shake them and tell them to wake up from their stupid weird sleeping. I hate being at home with them. I have to make their dinners and if I want clothes washed I have to do it myself. It's hard enough with school and work but now these added chores - how am I going to cope?

Well, I couldn't. I rang Aunt Morag and she came around yesterday with a bottle of wine and her wise mind. Aunt Morag is a psychologist and she knows what to do in these situations. She got mum drunk - coz mum's got too much pride and she wouldn't tell Aunt Morag what was wrong otherwise - it sounds wrong to kind of well drug my mum up to get her talking but it will be worth if it sorts this whole thing out. And then Aunt Morag shut the door and I guess the whole story came out. It peed me off that she shut the door on me though - I mean I deserve to know what's wrong more then the whole lot of them do! They all seem to want me out of it, shut out and kept away. Well, they can't just do that. I'm part of this somewhat broken family, not Aunt Morag. She doesn't put up with their silences and lack of parental duties. I do!

Oh well, I've had my little say and now I feel tired. This house is like a vaccuum - it seems to suck the life away from anyone inside, coz I can feel the life of me being sucked out too. These are the times when having Mystery Boy by my side would help.........

Mystery Boy talked to me today. Said, "Hey Simone wanna have lunch with me?" And I accepted his invitation and do you know what happened? He never turned up.

So Mystery Boy isn't so nice either. He's just like everyone else except cuter and more manipulative. He had a hold on me and abused it. Like everyone else does!

Bye Bye.

Love always, Simone

MORE

Dear Diary,

Mystery Boy hasn't been at work for a week. I don't know if he's got some sickness or if he's quit. Maybe the idea of seeing me scared him away! God, that's a comforting thought.

It seems kind of lonely without Mystery Boy here. Strange, since I didn't even speak or laugh with him when he was here so how can I miss a voice I've never heard? But his prescence is just part of the scenery here. He's so good with the customers and everything. It seems like there's this lonely space where he should've been, a small spot where he's left his stain.

Jenny Barker, or Dragon Lady as you know is even more angrier and aggressive than usual. She marches around with her chin up in the air like she's the Queen and if you so much as put a toe out of line she'll chop it off. We have to walk around on eggshells around her. I'm so nervous that I'm making more mistakes then I should. And she takes full advantage of humiliating me.

The gossip of my co-workers has produced a rumour that Jenny Barker's been dumped by her boyfriend who is 50 years old (she's 35) and a complete gold mine. I only thought Hollywood cows did that kind of thing but apparently, old Jenny Barker's a good ole gold digger. Others say that her dad died and didn't leave her anything in his will and left it all to his favourite daughter Sammy Barker. Who could know?

I don't particularly care - I just hope she gets over it quickly before she can add up the amount of mistakes I'm making and come to the unfortunate answer - that I need to be fired, dismissed, sacked as soon as possible so as to avoid further damage to her business.

Nothing much to say about mum and dad. Aunt Morag is still here. She's giving mum some kind of counselling. Mum doesn't leave her room anymore. She keeps it locked at all times. Luckily she's got an ensuite or it could be getting smelly in there. Aunt Morag stays in there too but sometimes she goes out and gets food and wine for them. I'd like to know what work is actually being done in there. I mean, I expected that Aunt Morag with her skills would give mum some kind of miraculous recovery and that by the end of the week mum would be up and about making me breakfasts and vacuuming. But I'm still here, on Saturday morning, cooking my own bacon and eggs and washing my own clothes. And I'm getting tired of being the mother. I'm 16 - this is the time for me to enjoy myself, to be going out to those parties with boys, alcohol and drugs. Time for me to make mistakes and learn from them (hopefully). Not for me to be taking forced lessons in house keeping.

Dad packed his gear today. He just shoved all his stuff in some bags and left. He didn't even seem angry as he shut the door behind him. He just looked defeated and old and worn out. He was grey and miserable looking. Maybe it's the massive consumption of alcohol he's been doing lately that's made him look so bad. But he's unshaven and an aura of sadness clings to him, just like it does to Mystery Boy.

What is this world coming to? Everyone's sad and falling apart! How can I remain sane in this world of misery! I'm finding it difficult I can tell you that. What I need to do is get the hell out of here, while I still can.

Sorry, diary, but I'm getting frustrated. No one seems to be able to help me out of this mess. That's what parents were for. But now they're the problem!

Bye diary. Hope you're cheerful with all this writing in you!

Love always, Sad Simone (like my new nickname!?)

more!

Dear Diary,

Mystery Boy turned up at work today. Amazing. Miracles do happen. Except he wasn't wearing the usual attire for work - and he didn't have on his name tag - so what was going on? I really didn't know and it was difficult to find out since I had a long queue of people (Coles doesn't think it worthwhile in investing in opening more then two check outs at a time) and Jenny Barker breathing down my neck, so I couldn't really spare a few minutes to investigate or an odd eye every now and then. But I have to admit he looked hot in his dusted jeans and crisp white t-shirt and spiked up brown hair. I was dismayed to find he disappeared into one of the aisles, blocked from view by swarms of people, trolleys and items. No matter how far I leaned my head out of the checkout booth (this course of action received a few odd looks at me and a growl from Dragon Lady) I couldn't see him. So instead, defeated I turned my attention back to the very big duty of adding up money amounts of items.

I kept my head down and I was shocked out of my mind when Mystery Boy came to be next in line. He had a couple cartons of milk and juice and a loaf of bread. "Hey Simone. How are you?" I'm happy to say that a) since he recognised me (thought that could be to do with the name tag I was proudly wearing) b ) asked me how I was and c) smiled at me that my brain did not lose the functions of speaking, keeping all spit and drool firmly intact in my mouth or from letting me laugh hysterically for no obvious reason.

"Hey.....?" I flushed red when I couldn't return the favour of his name. "I'm James," he replied, extending a tanned brown hand. I was melting inside as he took his masculine huge hand in my pale one. "Oh. Well I'm doing fine. What about you?" Wow I put together a whole three sentences. Or was it two sentences and one word? Doesn't matter, Simone it's been said already!

"Oh I'm pretty good. I've been performing lately - which is why I haven't been at work lately," explained James, sweeping his hand through his hair. It was taking me a very long time to pass about five items through the checker. Due to the fact my hands were shaking and my legs had turned to the equivalent of jelly.

"Performing?"

"Yeah. I'm part of a band. World Misfitz is our name," replied James, with a grin.

"Oh wow. Where've you been performing?"

"Oh here and in other towns nearby. You should come hear us some time. We play kind of depressive/rock music. Hope you're into that kind of thing," James said.

"Oh ok. Well it sounds interesting. Maybe I could pop around to a performance some time. Where do you play next?"

"At the Grape Vine cafe. This Saturday,"

I checked off the last item and put it in a plastic bag.

"$10.25 thanks," I said. He fiddled around in his wallet for some money and handed me a crisp ten dollar note and a 50 cent coin. I handed him the change and just like that, after a small smile, he was gone.

Yet that small encounter made my day!

So diary, you have to remember this date: Saturday 4th April Grape Vine Cafe. Haha. As if I will ever forget. It's etched into my brain with permanent texta.

Anyways, best be off. Aunt Morag is taking me and my mum out to dinner at some French place. Hope it's good. I'm not going to eat snails though - gross!

Bye. Bye.

Love always, Super-happy Simone (improvement from last nickname hey?)

moreee

Dear Diary,

Well the French restaurant thing was a total waste of time. Apart from mum spending the majority of her time picking at her food (which I have to admit was delicious) and hardly eating any of it, nothing much else happened. Morag spent a lot of her time drinking the pretty wine they provided and it wasn't long before Morag was quite drunk. Which made the whole thing that more enjoyable. Yeah right. Aunt Morag even managed to get one of the French waiter's phone number. That was her achievement for the night, though I thought the goal was to get mum back to normal.

We ended up trooping home, mum driving, rather slowly, whilst Aunt Morag chatted animatedly about her various adventures in the city which involved many details I never wanted to know a 43 year old woman might have in her biography. I was only too happy to get home, even though home was a dark gloomy place itself.

My life is going around in circles. Think of it as a toilet drain. I'm going around and around and then soon I'll be flushed right away.

I haven't seen dad. Mum won't talk to me about him when I ask her. It's making me more angry then anything else. He's my father! I'd like to know when he's going to be back, IF he's going to be back and WHY he isn't. It's like mum expects me to carry on normal and pretend that all of a sudden MY DAD IS NOT AROUND. Seriously. It's out of control. Though half the time I don't know what my mum expects. She looks dazed, far away, lost in a different time. I don't even seem to register. I don't even know if she remembers she has a daughter.

Everything is out of order. Nothing is normal. I need normal. Everyone does. I feel lost, confused and out of touch.

I work tomorrow. Again. I don't mind. Getting out of the house is good. Coles is my sanctuary, my safe place.

Home is strange, foreign and an unknown scary territory I dare not to venture in.