I'm sitting here in my bathrobe and a bright orange Apivita carrot mask. I found rocket and spinach leaves and organic tomatoes in the fridge. I have Yiruma scores by the piano. I have a threat from William to finish my section of the report by this afternoon.
Today is a day off from absolutely everything (by which I mean of course work and uni). So I've made a plan.
Task one. Complete my sections of the report. Finish part A first, then results and discussion of the experiment.
Task two. Make salad for lunch.
Task three. Make notes on findings and recommendations for tomorrow's tute.
Task four. Use whatever time left to write up PG notes.
Task five. Learn Love Me.
Showing posts with label personal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label personal. Show all posts
5.29.2008
5.15.2008
Bye Base
Lab took a very long time indeed. Granted, I still finished 30 minutes ahead of time, but that 30 minutes could easily have been 90 had I not been obliged to prepare a total of over 20 dilutions, 10 of which served (as I found out only after I produced them) absolutely no purpose.
William had troubles of a much lesser degree. Our experiments were virtually identical, but once we began diluting our known I came across the problem of precipitates. William found it amusing and moved on to UV spectrophotometry while I fetched new flasks to recreate my secondary solutions. When his unknown samples produced absorbances way out of the accuray range, it was my turn to laugh, though that didn't last long as Effie examined mine and decided that I should start the entire experiment from beginning - using water instead of base. This renders not only everything I've done during today's prac, but also the pracs of the past two weeks completely useless.
I was relieved to leave at last. I caught the bus intending to seek out the expensive Pilgrim dress I tried on Wednesday, but decided that I couldn't justify spending that much money. On my way back to Central I found a dress in Sheike for half the price.
I had a slight tiff with my parents tonight. In the afternoon my mum called to very randomly berate me for not watching the Chinese channel coverage on the Sichuan earthquake. This is very, very random and I didn't know whether she was serious or she had spent her day off with a bottle of Bailey's.
When my parents picked me up tonight they asked whether I had just come from work. I said I was at uni. Funnily enough this resulted in an angry lecture on the stupidity of sacrificing education for shitkicker jobs. It was as if they had been rehearsing yelling at me, only my answer to their trigger quesion wasn't the trigger.
I wondered how I always manage to give them a reason to be angry with me. Even when I don't give a reason they're angry with me. I love my mum, but a lot of the time I'm scared of her. Her temper is less stable than technitium-99m. When she's happy with me (e.g. last night) she'd stroke my hair like I was a cat. When she's upset (e.g. this afternoon) she'd say she's ashamed to be my mother. Might I add that I neither gave her anything to be happy about last night nor anything to be upset about this afternoon.
My parents dropped me off at home tonight. I went inside. They slammed the gate and resumed their nightly stroll. I called Jez and cried over it.
Whatever vault-like qualities I initially display when I'm unhappy, after a certain amount of time I open up like a book. Sometimes we skip the whole vault thing altogether. In any case, I talk. I find the gritty bits of life easier to deal when they're discussed. And I've never met a non-talker before I met Jez.
Sometimes I overlook this quality of his. I'd forget that unlike me, Jez resolves problems alone. I didn't notice that he never felt the need to turn to me for anything. I might also be ignorant of the fact that being unwilling to talk doesn't imply being willing to listen.
So when I asked rheutorically who I'm supposed to go to when I have problems, Jez reminded me that it isn't him. I didn't really know what to say. He thinks I'm dependent. That I should be able to deal with things on my own, just like him. What if I didn't have him? He asked. How am I supposed to handle everything then? I never said I couldn't. I never said I'd be overwhelmed if I was alone. Walking in the rain doesn't hurt, but Jez was my umbrella.
Oh hey ... I just noticed Myer sent me a gift card. Win!
William had troubles of a much lesser degree. Our experiments were virtually identical, but once we began diluting our known I came across the problem of precipitates. William found it amusing and moved on to UV spectrophotometry while I fetched new flasks to recreate my secondary solutions. When his unknown samples produced absorbances way out of the accuray range, it was my turn to laugh, though that didn't last long as Effie examined mine and decided that I should start the entire experiment from beginning - using water instead of base. This renders not only everything I've done during today's prac, but also the pracs of the past two weeks completely useless.
I was relieved to leave at last. I caught the bus intending to seek out the expensive Pilgrim dress I tried on Wednesday, but decided that I couldn't justify spending that much money. On my way back to Central I found a dress in Sheike for half the price.
I had a slight tiff with my parents tonight. In the afternoon my mum called to very randomly berate me for not watching the Chinese channel coverage on the Sichuan earthquake. This is very, very random and I didn't know whether she was serious or she had spent her day off with a bottle of Bailey's.
When my parents picked me up tonight they asked whether I had just come from work. I said I was at uni. Funnily enough this resulted in an angry lecture on the stupidity of sacrificing education for shitkicker jobs. It was as if they had been rehearsing yelling at me, only my answer to their trigger quesion wasn't the trigger.
I wondered how I always manage to give them a reason to be angry with me. Even when I don't give a reason they're angry with me. I love my mum, but a lot of the time I'm scared of her. Her temper is less stable than technitium-99m. When she's happy with me (e.g. last night) she'd stroke my hair like I was a cat. When she's upset (e.g. this afternoon) she'd say she's ashamed to be my mother. Might I add that I neither gave her anything to be happy about last night nor anything to be upset about this afternoon.
My parents dropped me off at home tonight. I went inside. They slammed the gate and resumed their nightly stroll. I called Jez and cried over it.
Whatever vault-like qualities I initially display when I'm unhappy, after a certain amount of time I open up like a book. Sometimes we skip the whole vault thing altogether. In any case, I talk. I find the gritty bits of life easier to deal when they're discussed. And I've never met a non-talker before I met Jez.
Sometimes I overlook this quality of his. I'd forget that unlike me, Jez resolves problems alone. I didn't notice that he never felt the need to turn to me for anything. I might also be ignorant of the fact that being unwilling to talk doesn't imply being willing to listen.
So when I asked rheutorically who I'm supposed to go to when I have problems, Jez reminded me that it isn't him. I didn't really know what to say. He thinks I'm dependent. That I should be able to deal with things on my own, just like him. What if I didn't have him? He asked. How am I supposed to handle everything then? I never said I couldn't. I never said I'd be overwhelmed if I was alone. Walking in the rain doesn't hurt, but Jez was my umbrella.
Oh hey ... I just noticed Myer sent me a gift card. Win!
5.06.2008
If I was made in Japan, I'd be more efficient
I have once been told by two people who at the time were close to me that I'm Chinese-looking. Which means I have a Chinese face. Because two is like, so many people, I accepted this fact without question (though with some amount of disappointment because you'd usually imagine "Chinese face" as something along the lines of this).
Today, the umpteenth million person asked me where I came from. And today the umpteeth million person assumed the kind of surprised expression that I knew preceded the five words I don't know how many times I've heard. "I thought you were Japanese".
Yes. Japanese.
Anyway, I don't know what I look like. I don't really care.
It's funny what people assume from the exterior. Except you have a pretty slim chance of actually being right. Seriously though, we can never tell anymore.
I remember browsing profiles on a study-forum and came across a pretty girl. When I say pretty I mean if you're into that kind of thing. Bleached, waist-length white-blond hair. Heavy make-up. Skinny jeans (keeping in mind that it was '04 and she was way ahead of the trend). Chloé accessories. Frequents the Lifestyle & Fashion threads. So of course I assumed floozy. I assumed wrong. Apparently a friend of mine knew her through a friend of a friend and so on and so forth - at the time she had just graduated from NSG with an UAI of 99.60.
I admire that.
On the opposite end of the scale I've often expected large brains from some ultra nerdy looking people who turned out had lower averages than me.
Admittedly I didn't think Jez was too bright initially. Then I realised I was wrong. Then "certainly possible but not certain for a fact" happened and I figured my first impressions might not have been that far off.
It was lucky that I showed up for work this morning because I had completely forgotten that we had GSK training. In fact, I was the one who booked it for today.
Training was on Zantac, Cartia and Becoderm. Old news!
After lectures Jez and I went to Umi's for sushi and their gob-smackingly delicious green salad. It was gob-smackingly delicious.
Wow, it was like I just pulled sentences out of my arse tonight. This post doesn't make any chronological sense at all.
Today, the umpteenth million person asked me where I came from. And today the umpteeth million person assumed the kind of surprised expression that I knew preceded the five words I don't know how many times I've heard. "I thought you were Japanese".
Yes. Japanese.
Anyway, I don't know what I look like. I don't really care.
It's funny what people assume from the exterior. Except you have a pretty slim chance of actually being right. Seriously though, we can never tell anymore.
I remember browsing profiles on a study-forum and came across a pretty girl. When I say pretty I mean if you're into that kind of thing. Bleached, waist-length white-blond hair. Heavy make-up. Skinny jeans (keeping in mind that it was '04 and she was way ahead of the trend). Chloé accessories. Frequents the Lifestyle & Fashion threads. So of course I assumed floozy. I assumed wrong. Apparently a friend of mine knew her through a friend of a friend and so on and so forth - at the time she had just graduated from NSG with an UAI of 99.60.
I admire that.
On the opposite end of the scale I've often expected large brains from some ultra nerdy looking people who turned out had lower averages than me.
Admittedly I didn't think Jez was too bright initially. Then I realised I was wrong. Then "certainly possible but not certain for a fact" happened and I figured my first impressions might not have been that far off.
It was lucky that I showed up for work this morning because I had completely forgotten that we had GSK training. In fact, I was the one who booked it for today.
Training was on Zantac, Cartia and Becoderm. Old news!
After lectures Jez and I went to Umi's for sushi and their gob-smackingly delicious green salad. It was gob-smackingly delicious.
Wow, it was like I just pulled sentences out of my arse tonight. This post doesn't make any chronological sense at all.
4.24.2008
Nooooooooooodeeeeeeeeeeeee
After dinner and ice-cream with Jez I met up with my mum at Burwood for awfully brief late-night shopping. She wanted to buy me some gym clothes. I told her I'd run in my bra before wasting any more money on workout gear. There was once a time where I spent more time in sports stores than any girl should. I have expensive trackies I never wear, and there's a pair of nearly-new $200 Adidas sneakers either in the closet or inside a locker I haven't accessed since first year.
She gave the frustrating "whatever you want" attitude when I asked her what she would like to shop for. As a result we spent a fair bit of time in General Pants Co. picking out a new pair of jeans. For me. Duh.
I decided on dark Nudie skinnies. They were $215. She thought they were a tad expensive. This is a huge change on her behalf as she once bought me a pair of $40 Wakee's grumbling about how pricey they were. Are all jeans this expensive? She asked. I explained the price-range between say, Cheap Monday and say, True Religion (although I really hate True Religion and wouldn't consider wearing them unless there were handed out for free with mX or something). I tried on the Nudies. I liked them. She liked them. She expected me to buy them, but didn't offer any financial assistance. Faced with parting with my own savings I said I'd think about it. She shrugged and said I should get them if I really like them. I'm still thinking about it.
She played BBA on the train ride home and we had a nice chat. I realised then how long it has been since I really spoke to my mother. We should go shopping every Thursday. There was once a time when the fact that she was showing great interest in the Sass & Bide section in DJ's was the motivator for me to go shopping with her, but that time has passed.
She gave the frustrating "whatever you want" attitude when I asked her what she would like to shop for. As a result we spent a fair bit of time in General Pants Co. picking out a new pair of jeans. For me. Duh.
I decided on dark Nudie skinnies. They were $215. She thought they were a tad expensive. This is a huge change on her behalf as she once bought me a pair of $40 Wakee's grumbling about how pricey they were. Are all jeans this expensive? She asked. I explained the price-range between say, Cheap Monday and say, True Religion (although I really hate True Religion and wouldn't consider wearing them unless there were handed out for free with mX or something). I tried on the Nudies. I liked them. She liked them. She expected me to buy them, but didn't offer any financial assistance. Faced with parting with my own savings I said I'd think about it. She shrugged and said I should get them if I really like them. I'm still thinking about it.
She played BBA on the train ride home and we had a nice chat. I realised then how long it has been since I really spoke to my mother. We should go shopping every Thursday. There was once a time when the fact that she was showing great interest in the Sass & Bide section in DJ's was the motivator for me to go shopping with her, but that time has passed.
4.23.2008
4.12.2008
By the way ...
Cosmo sucks.
But I guess when I've already bought this month's Marie Claire and Cleo I don't have much choice. But seriously, there isn't one article in Cosmo that people actually give a shit about. This month they feature a lengthy piece on Mischa Barton's LA apartment, and an interview with Hilary Duff on her fragrances which I don't think anybody buys.
The only thing that managed to grab my attention for more than a couple of nanoseconds was a story on how often we tell LWLs (little white lies) everyday. If you think about it you'd be amused.
Most of the time I lie to avoid hurting people's feelings, or to save myself from whatever inconveniences the truth might result in.
I lied to my parents about camp. Okay, that was a pretty big lie. Normally I lie about how much I've studied (always with a guilty little squirm and then silently promising that I'll make up for the amount of study I faked, then forget about it five minutes later and log on to Youtube to watch japanese dancing clips), whether or not I had a good day, and whether or not I've been to work. The latter is because they often tell me I should cut down on my shifts. Now that I've actually cut down I suppose I can stop.
I lie to strangers. For example, after asking a gazillion questions about a skincare product and finding out that I wasn't ready to spend nearly half as much as the cost, I'd tell the assistant I'll come back. Of course I never do, but I think they know it too. I lie about the price of my clothes when I get them on super sale. I shouldn't have told you that.
I don't lie much to my friends because usually there isn't anything to hide. Sometimes when my problems are too trivial or extremely private I avoid discussing them, but I don't think this equates to lying.
I'm guilty of the occasional LWL to Jez:
But I guess when I've already bought this month's Marie Claire and Cleo I don't have much choice. But seriously, there isn't one article in Cosmo that people actually give a shit about. This month they feature a lengthy piece on Mischa Barton's LA apartment, and an interview with Hilary Duff on her fragrances which I don't think anybody buys.
The only thing that managed to grab my attention for more than a couple of nanoseconds was a story on how often we tell LWLs (little white lies) everyday. If you think about it you'd be amused.
Most of the time I lie to avoid hurting people's feelings, or to save myself from whatever inconveniences the truth might result in.
I lied to my parents about camp. Okay, that was a pretty big lie. Normally I lie about how much I've studied (always with a guilty little squirm and then silently promising that I'll make up for the amount of study I faked, then forget about it five minutes later and log on to Youtube to watch japanese dancing clips), whether or not I had a good day, and whether or not I've been to work. The latter is because they often tell me I should cut down on my shifts. Now that I've actually cut down I suppose I can stop.
I lie to strangers. For example, after asking a gazillion questions about a skincare product and finding out that I wasn't ready to spend nearly half as much as the cost, I'd tell the assistant I'll come back. Of course I never do, but I think they know it too. I lie about the price of my clothes when I get them on super sale. I shouldn't have told you that.
I don't lie much to my friends because usually there isn't anything to hide. Sometimes when my problems are too trivial or extremely private I avoid discussing them, but I don't think this equates to lying.
I'm guilty of the occasional LWL to Jez:
- "I'm fine with anything for dinner" - say pizza, and I'll say okay, but it was your idea.
- "No no, you can play WoW, I don't mind" - why don't you just marry Zokk?
- "Nothing's wrong" - can't you tell something's wrong?
- "I haven't been doing much" - I've watched "how's the pie" on Youtube about ten times, stalked your ex on Facebook, took webcam photos of myself, ran to the bathroom to check the comparative sizes of my breasts, had a cup of orange juice, plucked stray hairs from my knuckles, tried on some dresses and took a dump.
I suspect he tells me LWLs too. Like "sorry I missed your call" and "I haven't been watching porn."
4.11.2008
51
My dad turns 51 today.
I suppose it's preferable for Jez to be away this weekend than another.
He probably hasn't even left Sydney yet, but in my mind it has already been over a day. It's kind of funny because I'm loving all the time I'm having to myself, and as I've taken one extra day off work I now have the freedom to go anywhere with anyone after uni, I'm doing more miscellaneous things that I normally never get to do ... I'd almost say that I'm happier, except once I come home I feel awfully empty.
I've bought something that fills the gap. No, it's not clothes, and I'd love to go out on a reckless shopping spree today but I've got a $40 cake on order at Red Mango and I'm completely out of pills. You know in the UK they're free.
I suppose it's preferable for Jez to be away this weekend than another.
He probably hasn't even left Sydney yet, but in my mind it has already been over a day. It's kind of funny because I'm loving all the time I'm having to myself, and as I've taken one extra day off work I now have the freedom to go anywhere with anyone after uni, I'm doing more miscellaneous things that I normally never get to do ... I'd almost say that I'm happier, except once I come home I feel awfully empty.
I've bought something that fills the gap. No, it's not clothes, and I'd love to go out on a reckless shopping spree today but I've got a $40 cake on order at Red Mango and I'm completely out of pills. You know in the UK they're free.
4.10.2008
Blogcrazysh
After Jez left I cleaned the study, stuffed my lecture notes and textbooks into the bottom drawer, watched House, read old chat logs, sobbed into a tissue, made a new ringtone, cleaned up unused programs on the computer, blogged three times, four counting this one, and completely neglected our pharmacology lab report.
Please come home soon baby. Or else I'm going to fail.
I've already made plans with Jenny and Bao to med-library it over the weekend.
Anyway, while reading some of Jez's chat logs I discovered the reason for this:
"Sometimes he half-arsedly offers, then steps aside and lets me at it before I even open my mouth to argue." - Hungry, o1.26.o8
On the 28th of April, 2007, I had said to Jez over MSN: "if I had a bf who insisted on paying for everything, I'd still offer. but if he refuses twice, then I'll stop."
We have a smarty pants here.
Please come home soon baby. Or else I'm going to fail.
I've already made plans with Jenny and Bao to med-library it over the weekend.
Anyway, while reading some of Jez's chat logs I discovered the reason for this:
"Sometimes he half-arsedly offers, then steps aside and lets me at it before I even open my mouth to argue." - Hungry, o1.26.o8
On the 28th of April, 2007, I had said to Jez over MSN: "if I had a bf who insisted on paying for everything, I'd still offer. but if he refuses twice, then I'll stop."
We have a smarty pants here.
Day Off
The PK quiz was a bit of a wake-up call. Nevertheless it didn't stop Jenny and me from spending the rest of the day in full-blast holiday mode.
After going to the city for takoyachi and a present for Victor's grandmother, we spent the afternoon attending to gifts for Victor and Jez. It started out as something I wanted to buy for myself, but somehow grew to what I thought was a decent idea for a gift.
(I just realised that while I was typing the above the ends of my hair were soaking in a bowl of soup)
It's been awhile since the two of us shopped, window or actual. While walking around Burwood Jenny suddenly realised how much money goes into our clothing funds. Think now and think high school.
High school: Jeans averaged $30 per pair.
Now: Jeans under $200 are cheap.
High school: $100 funds a shopping spree.
Now: $100 is often insufficient for one item.
High school: Tops shouldn't exceed $50.
Now: Tops shouldn't exceed $100 ... unless they're really pretty.
High school: Shoes range from $20-$50. Sneakers excluded.
Now: Heels range from $100-$200. Boots can go quite high depending on quality. Flats from $50-$100. Emergency shoes when only other option is to go barefoot from $20-$50. Sneakers, what sneakers?
High school: One bag for school, one bag for weekends. Price around $30.
Now: Luckily I'm not a bag extremist and spend on average $250 on good bags.
High school: Most frequented store: Valleygirl.
Now: Witchery.
Speaking of the past, while on the escalators to the third floor we bumped into none other than Eddie and Mrs Eddie. They didn't take notice of us and I was keen on avoiding awkwarding ourselves. I was amused to see that he was donning the Giordano sweater I spent some painstaking thirty minutes picking out from a snobby Shang department store. For a brief second I wondered why he hadn't thrown it out, passed it on to Allen (who was always sneaking clothes out of his wardrobe anyway) or stashed it away, then with a jealous twitch I remembered Jez's "I love vodka" tee.
Would you still wear clothes that your ex bought you? Forget clothes, anything really, anything practical. A pencil case, a wallet, a belt, a watch. Jewellery is probably out of the question for most.
I don't actually have any relics-of-the-past clothing. Possibly because I prefer buying my own clothes. I'm still thinking hard and apart from the few bits and pieces that were discarded long before the relationship was, my mind comes to a blank. I do still own the bracelet that my mother didn't let me throw away, but at the moment I haven't much clue on its whereabouts.
If I did have relics, would I wear them? No. Sometimes I think my memory is too clear for my own good. When I'm wearing my indigo BL jeans I can still almost see the patch where I dropped a slice of home-made pizza, topping side down, on my thighs on the second day after purchase. And that's stuff I bought with my own money, during my own time.
My parents have a strange concept of ex-etiquette. They love Jez. Whenever I do anything inappropriate (like speaking to a boy on the phone), it's "what would Jeremy think?". They tell me how mature he is. How well-behaved. How polite. How considerate. I sometimes want to answer back and ask them how they could know all of this when he spends an average of two hours per month in their presence. They're probably also unaware of the number of rooms in their house in which we've had sex.
One time when my dad found a few photos of Eddie and me on my computer, he told me to delete them. What would Jeremy think? My mum on the other hand wanted to pretend that the relationship never existed. Now that's all well and good ... but this is the same woman who salvaged my ID bracelet. And the same man who - well this gets a little creepy - took back a little wad of drawings I made of Eddie and me after I threw them out ... and kept them in the bottom drawer of his bedside cabinet. I would have never known this if I hadn't been rummaging around pointlessly two mornings ago, waiting for my tanning lotion to dry.
So yeah, I'm a bit confused. Forget or not to forget?
After going to the city for takoyachi and a present for Victor's grandmother, we spent the afternoon attending to gifts for Victor and Jez. It started out as something I wanted to buy for myself, but somehow grew to what I thought was a decent idea for a gift.
(I just realised that while I was typing the above the ends of my hair were soaking in a bowl of soup)
It's been awhile since the two of us shopped, window or actual. While walking around Burwood Jenny suddenly realised how much money goes into our clothing funds. Think now and think high school.
High school: Jeans averaged $30 per pair.
Now: Jeans under $200 are cheap.
High school: $100 funds a shopping spree.
Now: $100 is often insufficient for one item.
High school: Tops shouldn't exceed $50.
Now: Tops shouldn't exceed $100 ... unless they're really pretty.
High school: Shoes range from $20-$50. Sneakers excluded.
Now: Heels range from $100-$200. Boots can go quite high depending on quality. Flats from $50-$100. Emergency shoes when only other option is to go barefoot from $20-$50. Sneakers, what sneakers?
High school: One bag for school, one bag for weekends. Price around $30.
Now: Luckily I'm not a bag extremist and spend on average $250 on good bags.
High school: Most frequented store: Valleygirl.
Now: Witchery.
Speaking of the past, while on the escalators to the third floor we bumped into none other than Eddie and Mrs Eddie. They didn't take notice of us and I was keen on avoiding awkwarding ourselves. I was amused to see that he was donning the Giordano sweater I spent some painstaking thirty minutes picking out from a snobby Shang department store. For a brief second I wondered why he hadn't thrown it out, passed it on to Allen (who was always sneaking clothes out of his wardrobe anyway) or stashed it away, then with a jealous twitch I remembered Jez's "I love vodka" tee.
Would you still wear clothes that your ex bought you? Forget clothes, anything really, anything practical. A pencil case, a wallet, a belt, a watch. Jewellery is probably out of the question for most.
I don't actually have any relics-of-the-past clothing. Possibly because I prefer buying my own clothes. I'm still thinking hard and apart from the few bits and pieces that were discarded long before the relationship was, my mind comes to a blank. I do still own the bracelet that my mother didn't let me throw away, but at the moment I haven't much clue on its whereabouts.
If I did have relics, would I wear them? No. Sometimes I think my memory is too clear for my own good. When I'm wearing my indigo BL jeans I can still almost see the patch where I dropped a slice of home-made pizza, topping side down, on my thighs on the second day after purchase. And that's stuff I bought with my own money, during my own time.
My parents have a strange concept of ex-etiquette. They love Jez. Whenever I do anything inappropriate (like speaking to a boy on the phone), it's "what would Jeremy think?". They tell me how mature he is. How well-behaved. How polite. How considerate. I sometimes want to answer back and ask them how they could know all of this when he spends an average of two hours per month in their presence. They're probably also unaware of the number of rooms in their house in which we've had sex.
One time when my dad found a few photos of Eddie and me on my computer, he told me to delete them. What would Jeremy think? My mum on the other hand wanted to pretend that the relationship never existed. Now that's all well and good ... but this is the same woman who salvaged my ID bracelet. And the same man who - well this gets a little creepy - took back a little wad of drawings I made of Eddie and me after I threw them out ... and kept them in the bottom drawer of his bedside cabinet. I would have never known this if I hadn't been rummaging around pointlessly two mornings ago, waiting for my tanning lotion to dry.
So yeah, I'm a bit confused. Forget or not to forget?
4.09.2008
Vain
I'm a vain creature. I can never have enough photos of myself. After a short hiatus from the camera I've pulled it out once again for opportunities to pose for no more special an occasion than good lighting.
After creating my new folder for team Jez and Annie I perused the older files. Unfortunately I have very few photos dated more than a year old due to computer formatting and certain people requesting certain photos be deleted etc. And oh how I had listened to them.
However, one folder that carries photos from way back during the HSC to the present is My Logitech Pictures - from the webcam!
Oh the phases. And note that I'm always posing. Posing. Posing ...
The school-attire phase. Blue-eyeliner phase 1. Eyeliner-flick phase. Black hair phase. Nicole Ritchie wannabe phase. Oh, here's the awful hair (and tan - although I'm still not quite over self-tanning, but if you were pasty and cursed with the inability to darken by natural means, you'd L'Oreal it, too).
Again, I hate the way my mother was right when she told me that most of the above were so not hot.
After creating my new folder for team Jez and Annie I perused the older files. Unfortunately I have very few photos dated more than a year old due to computer formatting and certain people requesting certain photos be deleted etc. And oh how I had listened to them.
However, one folder that carries photos from way back during the HSC to the present is My Logitech Pictures - from the webcam!
Oh the phases. And note that I'm always posing. Posing. Posing ...
The school-attire phase. Blue-eyeliner phase 1. Eyeliner-flick phase. Black hair phase. Nicole Ritchie wannabe phase. Oh, here's the awful hair (and tan - although I'm still not quite over self-tanning, but if you were pasty and cursed with the inability to darken by natural means, you'd L'Oreal it, too).
Again, I hate the way my mother was right when she told me that most of the above were so not hot.
4.07.2008
For what it's worth
I'll skip the boring bit about where this idea sprouted from, but apparently being grateful for the little things from day to day can have positive effects on your personal wellbeing. This makes sense if you're like me, and:
- Are constantly being told "you don't know how lucky you are"
- Never pause to consider what others have done for you
- Forget somebody as soon as they've given you what you want
- Feel general dissatisfaction although no reasons can be identified
The idea is for you to jot down at the end of each day three to five things that you're thankful for and why. I thought I'd take it on.
- EJ for volunteering to take on editing and referencing solo, so that Mylinh, Jenny and I could write up our lab discussion together
- My dad for picking me up from the station
- The med library's printers for working properly when I printed my notes this morning (they've been acting up for awhile)
- Jez for giving me his black marker I used to write up my SDL answers
I feel very slightly happier. Or do I? It's probably just placebo. Mylinh exclaimed that after taking her "painkiller" during lab today she hardly felt any pain as she dipped her arm into the icy water for the second time, managing to keep it there for a whole minute longer than the first. Then she asked the demonstrator which treatment she received and was told that her tablet was in fact, lactose.
4.06.2008
Bloody Hell
No pun intended, but I found out about 30 minutes ago that I have my periods. And I haven't done anything about it until now, because everyone seems determined to make me bleed through my jeans by flooding in at the same time with two hundred scripts each. I ducked into the toilet to check how bad it was and Eugene wasn't impressed that I disappeared when all hell broke loose. I told him it was an emergency.
I'm sorry if I'm too graphic, but if you're bleeding out of your crotch you wouldn't care, either.
I'm sorry if I'm too graphic, but if you're bleeding out of your crotch you wouldn't care, either.
4.05.2008
Advice!
7 relationship quirks you probably shouldn't pick up from me.
I'm idealistic - having spent too much time watching fairytales when I was a little kid (trying to learn English from them) I often confused real life with them. Anyway, thankfully this has subsided somewhat after I learnt from cringingly awful first-time sex that reality is indeed far from orgasmic.
I like to have a rock - which isn't necessarily a bad thing ... but I like to keep my rocks close to heart ... which isn't necessarily a bad thing, but I tend to either fall for them or manipulate them. To Jez's relief (I presume) I haven't any rocks at the moment. If you were wondering exactly what a rock is it's someone you turn to during difficult times. For me it's a guy I bitch about my boyfriend to when we have fights.
I throw tantrums - I manage to refrain from them now but they often manifest in random bouts of crying. It's bad, but compared to the time back in God-knows-when when I threw my new silver bracelet and the boyfriend's phone down a drain (the poor guy spent about 40 minutes retrieving the bracelet but the phone was nowhere to be found) it's positively ... positive.
I'm clingy - I'm sure whatever's responsible for this is also responsible for my habit of wearing an item of clothing immediately after purchase and barely taking it off for weeks. When I'm in love with someone every nanosecond spent more than five inches away from them is a nanosecond wasted. When I want to see them it's immediately if not sooner. I also tend to physically cling. This can sometimes be annoying.
I'm easily jealous and am a hypocrite - if I hear a girl on the other other side of the phone, I'll be sure to cross my arms and put on my grumpy face. If you do the same to me I'll wonder why you're such a psycho. I grasp onto my boyfriends harder when I notice another girl giving him the eye, but if I don't mind guys ogling me as I walk down the street neither should you. If I hear about you hanging out with female friends I'll Facebook every single one of them to check whether they're more attractive than I am, but it's perfectly normal for me to do the same because well, you know, most of my friends are guys.
I have unrealistic expectations - mainly when I put a ton of effort into something and you don't. I could secretly plan something huge for something I pretend I don't care about, and if you are incredulous that I'd go to such lengths after telling you that I really don't give a toss what we do for the anniversary/birthday/other random occasions I'd be outraged that you didn't manage to read my mind.
I'm snobby - back when the boyfriend's friends were high-school dropouts with the sole ambition of winning a popping contest I refused to associate with any of them. If I happened to have been dragged to an event and find myself in their presence I actually refused to interact with them at all. Oh and they usually misspelt pretty much everything they typed. But then again so does Mike.
Sometimes I do wonder why I post these things. I'll make sure my next post will be a list of reasons why you shouldn't listen to my self-directed criticisms and continue to love me and buy me stuff unconditionally.
4.02.2008
Troubles
Before I get it on with my slideshow, I mean, get on with my slideshow, I'll make one more post.
I'm still running my fingers through my renewed hair. It feels heavenly.
There's something that has been bothering me. Since I'm always busy darting from place to place and spend my free time (i.e. time I spend on public transport) brain-training on my DS I don't think about anything except what word you get when you unjumble TSREDEIC. It's DISCREET, by the way.
On top of that, I'm terrified of being labelled a whinger. Complaints about pretty much everything from a scratch on my shoe to missing out the most recent episode of Heroes used to fall out of my mouth in a very verbal diarrhoeal kind of way, but lately I've been holding my tongue because not only am I unpleasant to listen to, whinging about something usually doesn't get rid of it.
But anyway, it might be healthy to let it out every so often.
For some reason I get myself into awful situations with work. Not at work, mind you. Work is great. Staff are great. Customers are great, and I don't deal with the ones that aren't. "Awful situations" relates to my hours, which I know is kind of random because one of the best things about my job is being able to turn up and leave as I please. However, this conflicts with my interests of wanting to please everyone. People tell me I should think of myself first but I can't stand disappointing others. Jez often tells me I have no backbone and he's quite right. I try to change that but so far the only progress I've made is to stop E from expressing his sexual interest.
So as a result, I'm working more than I'd like to. I'm tired pretty much all the time, and am never in the mood to study. My days are usually divided into uni and work during which I might have five spare minutes to grab lunch on the way to one or the other. I never have lunch with my friends. Never meet up early to study. Never study, period.
I know I have to draw the line somewhere. Ismat is already planning her holiday around my timetable and I told her that I won't under any circumstances work three saturdays in a row in addition to my shifts during the week. However, I caved in eventually and agreed to help out with two.
All of this makes life seem to drone on pointlessly. Time passes quickly but I don't know where it goes or where it's headed. Probably goes around in circles, because nothing ever changes (apart from when mid-sems come up and I'll be pulling out my eyeballs trying to cram everything I missed out while busy not focusing on uni).
What's worse, my educational decline is starting to affect Jez. Having already made him miss two lectures (one due to an unintentional bus trip to Coogee and the other due to sleeping) and bludge through three pre-planned study days, I'm continuing the trend this week. Tonight I went to his place after dinner and incredibly, after another pointless nap, started crying uncontrollably. I felt guilty and awful. I'm spiralling towards total failure and the only thing worse is if I drag someone else down with me. I thought briefly of leaving him for his own good, and immediately decided against it because despite what I've just said I'd probably rather be failures together than not have him. Mean, I know.
But I don't plan for us to be failures. I plan to grow some balls. And do my slideshow.
I'm still running my fingers through my renewed hair. It feels heavenly.
There's something that has been bothering me. Since I'm always busy darting from place to place and spend my free time (i.e. time I spend on public transport) brain-training on my DS I don't think about anything except what word you get when you unjumble TSREDEIC. It's DISCREET, by the way.
On top of that, I'm terrified of being labelled a whinger. Complaints about pretty much everything from a scratch on my shoe to missing out the most recent episode of Heroes used to fall out of my mouth in a very verbal diarrhoeal kind of way, but lately I've been holding my tongue because not only am I unpleasant to listen to, whinging about something usually doesn't get rid of it.
But anyway, it might be healthy to let it out every so often.
For some reason I get myself into awful situations with work. Not at work, mind you. Work is great. Staff are great. Customers are great, and I don't deal with the ones that aren't. "Awful situations" relates to my hours, which I know is kind of random because one of the best things about my job is being able to turn up and leave as I please. However, this conflicts with my interests of wanting to please everyone. People tell me I should think of myself first but I can't stand disappointing others. Jez often tells me I have no backbone and he's quite right. I try to change that but so far the only progress I've made is to stop E from expressing his sexual interest.
So as a result, I'm working more than I'd like to. I'm tired pretty much all the time, and am never in the mood to study. My days are usually divided into uni and work during which I might have five spare minutes to grab lunch on the way to one or the other. I never have lunch with my friends. Never meet up early to study. Never study, period.
I know I have to draw the line somewhere. Ismat is already planning her holiday around my timetable and I told her that I won't under any circumstances work three saturdays in a row in addition to my shifts during the week. However, I caved in eventually and agreed to help out with two.
All of this makes life seem to drone on pointlessly. Time passes quickly but I don't know where it goes or where it's headed. Probably goes around in circles, because nothing ever changes (apart from when mid-sems come up and I'll be pulling out my eyeballs trying to cram everything I missed out while busy not focusing on uni).
What's worse, my educational decline is starting to affect Jez. Having already made him miss two lectures (one due to an unintentional bus trip to Coogee and the other due to sleeping) and bludge through three pre-planned study days, I'm continuing the trend this week. Tonight I went to his place after dinner and incredibly, after another pointless nap, started crying uncontrollably. I felt guilty and awful. I'm spiralling towards total failure and the only thing worse is if I drag someone else down with me. I thought briefly of leaving him for his own good, and immediately decided against it because despite what I've just said I'd probably rather be failures together than not have him. Mean, I know.
But I don't plan for us to be failures. I plan to grow some balls. And do my slideshow.
3.31.2008
In other news ...
Not least amused that somehow I end up regretting almost every single occasion on which I didn't listen to my parents, I decided that the pros of taking a Mandarin course outweighs salvaging whatever little dignity I have left from refusing to swallow a half-decade long grudge against Chinese school.
At the moment I'm looking at Mandarin Level 4 for $315 over ten weeks. I'm not entirely sure whether Jez was serious when he expressed interest in joining me, but if he is, the good news is that being currently enrolled in a USyd course isn't a prerequisite.
Description of Level 4 is as follows:
"Level 4: This level assumes you have completed approximately 95 hours of prior study with us or done the equivalent study elsewhere. While this is not a fluency class by any means it assumes you have good basic conversational skills. Students should be able to use present, past and future tenses and make coherent simple conversation about basic topics. You should be able to express feelings, opinions and be able to get around reasonably confidently in the country of language origin - still making mistakes and asking people to repeat themselves occasionally. The teaching method is still structured around grammar and on expanding your vocabulary."
I think it's safe to say that us background speakers are okay with the above.
Awaiting comment from the boy, who is probably busy smashing up a few windows in frustration of having a bad PVP week.
At the moment I'm looking at Mandarin Level 4 for $315 over ten weeks. I'm not entirely sure whether Jez was serious when he expressed interest in joining me, but if he is, the good news is that being currently enrolled in a USyd course isn't a prerequisite.
Description of Level 4 is as follows:
"Level 4: This level assumes you have completed approximately 95 hours of prior study with us or done the equivalent study elsewhere. While this is not a fluency class by any means it assumes you have good basic conversational skills. Students should be able to use present, past and future tenses and make coherent simple conversation about basic topics. You should be able to express feelings, opinions and be able to get around reasonably confidently in the country of language origin - still making mistakes and asking people to repeat themselves occasionally. The teaching method is still structured around grammar and on expanding your vocabulary."
I think it's safe to say that us background speakers are okay with the above.
Awaiting comment from the boy, who is probably busy smashing up a few windows in frustration of having a bad PVP week.
Drink triple, see double, act single
My conscious is telling me that I should probably stay away from Jez.
Saturday as planned: short sleep-in, then seeing as we have the entire day free, study.
Saturday as it happened: sleep-in till 11 am, study (on his behalf) for about an hour. Sex. Study (on his behalf) for about 30 minutes. Sex. Sleep. Leave for dinner at my house.
Sunday as planned: I come over after work and study.
Sunday as it happened: I come over. Sex. Sleep. Dinner.
Monday as planned: I meet Jez at UNSW after work for lecture, where he'll be listening intently and I'll be writing notes on Parkinson's Disease.
Monday as it happened: I skip work, come over planning to study. Sex. Sleep. Eat. Home.
I suspect that if completely free from obligations, our lives would simplify into three activities. Try and guess what they are.
Saturday as planned: short sleep-in, then seeing as we have the entire day free, study.
Saturday as it happened: sleep-in till 11 am, study (on his behalf) for about an hour. Sex. Study (on his behalf) for about 30 minutes. Sex. Sleep. Leave for dinner at my house.
Sunday as planned: I come over after work and study.
Sunday as it happened: I come over. Sex. Sleep. Dinner.
Monday as planned: I meet Jez at UNSW after work for lecture, where he'll be listening intently and I'll be writing notes on Parkinson's Disease.
Monday as it happened: I skip work, come over planning to study. Sex. Sleep. Eat. Home.
I suspect that if completely free from obligations, our lives would simplify into three activities. Try and guess what they are.
3.30.2008
Wintery
So, Summer's over. I find myself spending increasing amounts of time shivering.
Changing seasons always makes me nostalgic. When Winter begins I reminisce about every Winter for as long as I can remember, from the fleecy school pants I wore in year 3 to the sanctuary that was Jez's electric blanket in the room that froze in Winter and baked in Summer.
In Winter during first year ar uni, I kept wearing this pink-and-brown jumper I found at the markets for $5 with straight-leg jeans from China, and wore my hair short and increasingly orange.
Urgh.
Changing seasons always makes me nostalgic. When Winter begins I reminisce about every Winter for as long as I can remember, from the fleecy school pants I wore in year 3 to the sanctuary that was Jez's electric blanket in the room that froze in Winter and baked in Summer.
In Winter during first year ar uni, I kept wearing this pink-and-brown jumper I found at the markets for $5 with straight-leg jeans from China, and wore my hair short and increasingly orange.
Urgh.
3.29.2008
Bleeding Love
I'm way behind the times - I've just discovered Leona Lewis. Frig sent me one of her songs awhile ago and I thought it was quite good, except I was like "who the hell is she?" and now I realise she's the girl who sings Bleeding Love.
We went home early last night but Craig's incessant calling dragged our tired arses back out to the city. I wish Jez's friends would, for just one occasion, drink somewhere other than Maloney's. I suppose value overrides ambience, because the latter Maloney's has none.
There are also several Maloney's-related memories I'd rather not retain:
We went home early last night but Craig's incessant calling dragged our tired arses back out to the city. I wish Jez's friends would, for just one occasion, drink somewhere other than Maloney's. I suppose value overrides ambience, because the latter Maloney's has none.
There are also several Maloney's-related memories I'd rather not retain:
- Dropping my then-new phone into the toilet
- Getting kicked out for being too loud
- Standing at the bar behind a couple of guys who got into a fight, one of them painfully stomping on my foot. My Tony Biancos retain evidence of damage
- Losing spectacularly in pool, although this doesn't bother me as much as the above, and I can't recall the identities of my opponents or partner
Maloney's also has a dero crowd. We spotted a few glitzy-dress-clad boulders last night, one of them asking Lillu to join their table. How could he say no?
Oh, and a couple of younger Fortians that didn't look a day over 13; a random man with a dirty long ratty who I think tried to get us to go to Space but I could be wrong because he was rather incoherent; a girl whose short dress exposed her vagina to the world; an eerily familiar-looking dude who I suspect I may have met at a club; a guy who was expelled from Fort Street for sexually assaulting a Japanese exchange student; my ex who tried to fuck me on the first date; and a bunch of older dero Fortians.
DID I MENTION THERE WERE BOULDERS?
There was also a guy who bore an uncanny resemblance to Joe Nguyen, but that's just for interest.
On our way home a mentally-unstable elderly serenaded us on the bus.
Jez kept saying I'm good to him for putting up with nights like these, but I had fun out of being amused. And I suppose Jez's friends are pretty awesome. My friends are just as awesome if not better, but Jez thinks he's above us.
Anyway, to their amusement I spent the whole night chewing glasses of ice. I asked Jez to fetch me some lemons too but he refused. I asked Philip too, but I don't think he understood me, because he just waved his arms around and started singing Ne-yo.
Jez came over tonight to cook for my parents. We picked shepherd's pie and I picked berry custard, which had a fancy name but I forget. Unfortunately the shepherd's pie recipe assumed that we had lamb leftovers and gravy from the previous day's roast. Obviously lamb roast could not have been a product of sitting in a seedy bar gawking at fat chicks, so throwing together dill, thyme, bay leaf, salt and olive oil, I bumrushed the faux-leftover lamb. It was spectacular. The pie, however, tasted too much of barbeque sauce (which superseeded Worchestershire, since my hubby is a picky prat). My parents liked it though.
After pouring the first attempt of custard down the toilet, we gave it another shot. The mixture burnt much too easily that even on low heat and constant mixing, we couldn't avoid a layer of scorched sugar on the bottom, which unfortunately after further beating was folded into the otherwise smooth custard. Jez didn't have dessert but I tried a few spoonfuls. It wasn't as good as I expected.
Lessons to be learnt:
- Burnt milk is extremely clingy on all surfaces
- When you have a punnet of raspberries, just eat them
- Stairs are fun
3.19.2008
Excitedness
Okay, this is a little embarrassing but the reason I haven't been wearing my indigo Bettina Lianos for the past half a year is because I have repeatedly failed to button them up over my ever-increasing hips.
Tonight I thought I'd give it another shot. On my last attempt a fortnight ago, I strained my arms trying to make the hems meet. This time, however, I buttoned them up with moderate ease. They've always been skin-tight, but now that I've got them on they feel a shade tighter. At least I'm progressing.
You probably can't tell, but I'm really happy. I've been crying on the inside contemplating selling them on ebay with the description "pre-loved, cannot accomodate my explosive hip growth, $50 or highest bid".
Surprisingly I never grew out of my black canvas Bettinas. They're one size up from the indigo and I absolutely hate them. Why I didn't pick the vintage skinnies I'll never know.
Tonight I thought I'd give it another shot. On my last attempt a fortnight ago, I strained my arms trying to make the hems meet. This time, however, I buttoned them up with moderate ease. They've always been skin-tight, but now that I've got them on they feel a shade tighter. At least I'm progressing.
You probably can't tell, but I'm really happy. I've been crying on the inside contemplating selling them on ebay with the description "pre-loved, cannot accomodate my explosive hip growth, $50 or highest bid".
Surprisingly I never grew out of my black canvas Bettinas. They're one size up from the indigo and I absolutely hate them. Why I didn't pick the vintage skinnies I'll never know.
3.09.2008
Scared
Despite making desperate bids to be left home alone during my parents' trip to China last year, I confess that I'm scared shitless of finding myself in a deserted house at night.
After dinner, Jez drove me home to find that my parents hadn't returned from my mum's new office in Kogarah. Our house is rather big. Its front side features four large windows - two on the first floor and two on the second. When the interior lights aren't lit, they stare eerily at you, daring you to imagine what horrors you might encounter within.
Eventually Jez took the hint that I wanted him to escort me in. He walked behind me like a bodyguard as I flicked every light. Then left.
And I'm alone. I thought of showering but quickly disposed of the thought as I still have icky feelings related possibly to the clichéd horror movie scenes where some naked girl with wet hair gets attacked while scrubbing her armpits.
Anyway, the point is, there are a number of rather stupid fears I still retain. Said showers, for one. Here are some more:
● Hesitate to look into the bathroom mirror after bending over to rinse my face in fear of seeing bloody Mary standing behind me
● Routinely shut curtains before sleeping in case I wake up, glance at the window and see a face staring back
● Retract all limbs from the edges of the mattress while sleeping to prevent being dragged under the bed by the inhabitants below
● Keep the closet firmly closed during the night as it being open mildly suggests passage into and out of the room
● Train myself to look away from dark objects on midnight toilet trips (e.g. computer monitor, rooms with open doors, etc) as the hollow darkness scares me witless
● Avoid the first-floor hallway when there are no lights, because there are too many doors from too many directions to keep my eyes on them
It's illogical fear, I'm aware of it. Being scared of the dark is being scared of nothingness, of the unknown. But I suppose this is why people are so frightened of death. Well, I am.
After dinner, Jez drove me home to find that my parents hadn't returned from my mum's new office in Kogarah. Our house is rather big. Its front side features four large windows - two on the first floor and two on the second. When the interior lights aren't lit, they stare eerily at you, daring you to imagine what horrors you might encounter within.
Eventually Jez took the hint that I wanted him to escort me in. He walked behind me like a bodyguard as I flicked every light. Then left.
And I'm alone. I thought of showering but quickly disposed of the thought as I still have icky feelings related possibly to the clichéd horror movie scenes where some naked girl with wet hair gets attacked while scrubbing her armpits.
Anyway, the point is, there are a number of rather stupid fears I still retain. Said showers, for one. Here are some more:
● Hesitate to look into the bathroom mirror after bending over to rinse my face in fear of seeing bloody Mary standing behind me
● Routinely shut curtains before sleeping in case I wake up, glance at the window and see a face staring back
● Retract all limbs from the edges of the mattress while sleeping to prevent being dragged under the bed by the inhabitants below
● Keep the closet firmly closed during the night as it being open mildly suggests passage into and out of the room
● Train myself to look away from dark objects on midnight toilet trips (e.g. computer monitor, rooms with open doors, etc) as the hollow darkness scares me witless
● Avoid the first-floor hallway when there are no lights, because there are too many doors from too many directions to keep my eyes on them
It's illogical fear, I'm aware of it. Being scared of the dark is being scared of nothingness, of the unknown. But I suppose this is why people are so frightened of death. Well, I am.
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