I am so sick of all my housemates. I feel like I'm going to snap and murder them all in their sleep with the dirty cutlery they refuse to wash.
Music: The Thick of It (Malcolm knows my rage)
Showing posts with label rant. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rant. Show all posts
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Over it
I had the most trying day today. My useless housemate has never been outside Wimbledon/Earlsfield and I was so horrified by this that I agreed to take him to Camden. What followed was the most tedious, dull day of my life. It was just a ginormous waste of time and he is such. hard. work. And a complete narrow-minded, contrary twat. UGH.
I am so sick of all my housemates. I feel like I'm going to snap and murder them all in their sleep with the dirty cutlery they refuse to wash.
Music: The Thick of It (Malcolm knows my rage)
I am so sick of all my housemates. I feel like I'm going to snap and murder them all in their sleep with the dirty cutlery they refuse to wash.
Music: The Thick of It (Malcolm knows my rage)
Monday, October 10, 2011
Catch me if you can
Okay. Lots of things have happened and most have been detrimental to my mood, which has been consistently terrible since Wednesday.
Firstly, The Academy Is… has officially called it quits. William announced it yesterday. It’s not entirely unexpected – with them all being all over the place – but it’s still sad. TAI was one of my favourite bands, and they’re one of the few bands that I’ve known since before their official first album. I wasn’t there for the whole 8 year journey, but it had to be 5 years at least. That said, I completely understand where they’re coming from. We’re all practically the same age and if I think of how I have changed, and what I’ve wanted to move on from, through the last 8 years, it only makes sense for them to feel the same. Such is life.
But I will miss TAI terribly all the same. Though I’m sure the boys will pop up in other things from time to time. I’ll always have three albums I adore and, of course, the memories – seeing them play every time they came out here, the meet and greet, the surfboard…oh dear god, the surfboard *headdesk*
On some level it feels like 2011 is holding up a giant neon sign declaring ‘It’s over. You’re grown up.’ And I can’t say I particularly care for it. It feels like everything has ended, the last remnants of life before responsible adulthood have all crumbled away. And honestly? I’m just not ready yet. This adulthood thing…it’s not good. I’ll have to be dragged kicking and screaming into it, and I’ll have to be caught first. Ah well. At least I’ll always have Green Day.
On the topic of responsibility and reality and how much it sucks, we were informed on Thursday that the house we’re in is being sold. You know what that means – it’s moving time. Again. I’m not going to lie to you, internet, I was utterly devastated by this news. I love the house we’re in now, it’s pretty much the kind of house I’ve always wanted. I love the deck and being able to lie in my hammock and just let the world go by. I love that it has a open, sprawling kitchen. I love that everything is on levels. I love that I have a room that’s not a shoebox. I love that it backs onto a reserve so it doesn’t feel like your fenced in and stuck in suburbia. I love that there’s even wildlife popping up these days – at the moment we have ducklings waddling down the street. Ducklings. And I love the area, with shops nearby, great library and the beach 20 minutes away. Just…yeah. I’m very disappointed. If I was three years old, I would chuck a giant tantrum and refuse to leave. And I’d expect my parents to sort it out.
Unfortunately, that sort of attitude doesn’t really work anymore so instead I’m saddled with a feeling of responsibility and general unhappiness. See? There's that adulthood thing again. My parents aren’t taking it too well – especially my dad who takes every reminder that we rent as a personal attack on him. They're not natural renters (which is why they keep building/painting etc at our own expense and inadvertently pushing the property values up, idiots that we are) and it hits dad very hard that he doesn’t have a place of his own. Despite my numerous attempts at convincing him that owning a house in Sydney is actually rather shit cause you’re stuck with a ginormous mortgage that you’ll probably never pay off, he still gets depressed about it. But you know, the simple fact of the matter is that my parents gave up a house and a comfortable lifestyle when they moved here, and I think it makes him feel like a failure that he can’t buy a house here. Frankly I think having an great standard of living is way better than being saddled with a huge debt-in-house-form but you know, whatever. When it comes to packing up all your crap and trying to find a new place for the third time in two years, I can understand why the lack of stability makes him miserable.
Of course, despite knowing me all my life, my parents still fail to realise that I am highly tuned to other peope’s emotions and the fact that I have a habit of suppressing my own in favour of carrying theirs goes completely unnoticed. But when I’m stressed and I snap, I’m the one who ends up in the dog house. Good times.
Anyway. We’ve applied for a new place so hopefully we’ll get that. It would be as straightforward and as painless as these things can be. Which probably means it won’t happen. What? I’m a natural pessimist. It helps me manage disappointment. The area we’re looking at is about twenty five minutes from where we are now…in fact, it’s just down the road from the doctor’s surgery I used to work at. It’s further away from my current job, so that’ll mean even more traffic (thankfully only 52 days to go) and it makes the weekend job I got kind of annoying as well (what used to be my local shopping centre is now a 30min drive away.)
It’s a nice area and I'm trying to be upbeat about it, but it’s definitely not as great as where we are now. Unfortunately the houses in our current area are going for about $800-$1000 a week, which is pretty steep – especially since I won’t be contributing to rent next year. But you know, all things told, it’s probably better to move. Both the 'rents have messed up their knees and the stairs weren’t really helping things. The house we’re hoping to get is freshly painted and carpeted and quite big, so there won’t be a lack of room at least.
Oh whatever. Doesn’t help to ponder these things. It has to be done and that’s it. We’ll deal. It’s more a case of it being unexpected…and being too comfortable were we are. I am going to do a major clean out this time though – I’m not lugging all that junk around again. I’ve reached the point where I’m quite happy to be ruthless. Ebay all the things!
In other news, yes, I finally got a second job. So I’ll be working pretty much all the time from mid November until Christmas eve. At “normal” work, things continue to be entirely batshit insane and one of the ad reps made a complaint about me to management on Thursday because he doesn’t like my attitude. I am cheerfully setting his car on fire with my mind. My parents aren’t speaking to me because I got annoyed at them for keeping me out all day Saturday after I was promised it wouldn’t be a late one and because I made the mistake of telling them I just wanted to be left alone, which they’re now taking to petty extremes. I’m not going to apologise either cause I’m still resentful of the fact that I always have to be everyone’s emotional support and yet the minute I slip up, that’s held up as some sort of trademark behaviour. It’s just like at work – no one ever notices when you’re doing things well, but make one mistake and you never hear the end of it.
It’s especially aggravating because I only went along on Saturday to help them out, a) by driving into the city and b) by keeping mum company as I know she doesn’t like going to these rugby things by herself because dad is useless and usually abandons her within 2 seconds flat (he is like a toddler, you have no idea). And I voiced all my reservations before we left so they were well aware of how I felt. But my dad doesn’t think, ever, so he agrees to things on a whim and so, at 11pm, I’m in Chinatown with a bunch of middle-aged couples. And all of them keep telling what a good daughter I am, how they wish their kids would come out with them and blah blah blah. Do my parents think so? No. Two days later, I'm still a pariah. Charming.
BUT! It’s not all annoyance. I attended a lovely High Tea at the Shangri La hotel yesterday, courtesy of L. It was prefectly decadent and exactly the right kind of escapism. Plus I got to catch up with R and K for a bit, always nice and relaxing. My friends always know when to save my sanity.
Now, back to work I suppose. The way things are going here, I won’t be surprised if I’m working till 7 or 8 every night this week. Sigh.
Music: Daytripper - The Beatles
Firstly, The Academy Is… has officially called it quits. William announced it yesterday. It’s not entirely unexpected – with them all being all over the place – but it’s still sad. TAI was one of my favourite bands, and they’re one of the few bands that I’ve known since before their official first album. I wasn’t there for the whole 8 year journey, but it had to be 5 years at least. That said, I completely understand where they’re coming from. We’re all practically the same age and if I think of how I have changed, and what I’ve wanted to move on from, through the last 8 years, it only makes sense for them to feel the same. Such is life.
But I will miss TAI terribly all the same. Though I’m sure the boys will pop up in other things from time to time. I’ll always have three albums I adore and, of course, the memories – seeing them play every time they came out here, the meet and greet, the surfboard…oh dear god, the surfboard *headdesk*
On some level it feels like 2011 is holding up a giant neon sign declaring ‘It’s over. You’re grown up.’ And I can’t say I particularly care for it. It feels like everything has ended, the last remnants of life before responsible adulthood have all crumbled away. And honestly? I’m just not ready yet. This adulthood thing…it’s not good. I’ll have to be dragged kicking and screaming into it, and I’ll have to be caught first. Ah well. At least I’ll always have Green Day.
On the topic of responsibility and reality and how much it sucks, we were informed on Thursday that the house we’re in is being sold. You know what that means – it’s moving time. Again. I’m not going to lie to you, internet, I was utterly devastated by this news. I love the house we’re in now, it’s pretty much the kind of house I’ve always wanted. I love the deck and being able to lie in my hammock and just let the world go by. I love that it has a open, sprawling kitchen. I love that everything is on levels. I love that I have a room that’s not a shoebox. I love that it backs onto a reserve so it doesn’t feel like your fenced in and stuck in suburbia. I love that there’s even wildlife popping up these days – at the moment we have ducklings waddling down the street. Ducklings. And I love the area, with shops nearby, great library and the beach 20 minutes away. Just…yeah. I’m very disappointed. If I was three years old, I would chuck a giant tantrum and refuse to leave. And I’d expect my parents to sort it out.
Unfortunately, that sort of attitude doesn’t really work anymore so instead I’m saddled with a feeling of responsibility and general unhappiness. See? There's that adulthood thing again. My parents aren’t taking it too well – especially my dad who takes every reminder that we rent as a personal attack on him. They're not natural renters (which is why they keep building/painting etc at our own expense and inadvertently pushing the property values up, idiots that we are) and it hits dad very hard that he doesn’t have a place of his own. Despite my numerous attempts at convincing him that owning a house in Sydney is actually rather shit cause you’re stuck with a ginormous mortgage that you’ll probably never pay off, he still gets depressed about it. But you know, the simple fact of the matter is that my parents gave up a house and a comfortable lifestyle when they moved here, and I think it makes him feel like a failure that he can’t buy a house here. Frankly I think having an great standard of living is way better than being saddled with a huge debt-in-house-form but you know, whatever. When it comes to packing up all your crap and trying to find a new place for the third time in two years, I can understand why the lack of stability makes him miserable.
Of course, despite knowing me all my life, my parents still fail to realise that I am highly tuned to other peope’s emotions and the fact that I have a habit of suppressing my own in favour of carrying theirs goes completely unnoticed. But when I’m stressed and I snap, I’m the one who ends up in the dog house. Good times.
Anyway. We’ve applied for a new place so hopefully we’ll get that. It would be as straightforward and as painless as these things can be. Which probably means it won’t happen. What? I’m a natural pessimist. It helps me manage disappointment. The area we’re looking at is about twenty five minutes from where we are now…in fact, it’s just down the road from the doctor’s surgery I used to work at. It’s further away from my current job, so that’ll mean even more traffic (thankfully only 52 days to go) and it makes the weekend job I got kind of annoying as well (what used to be my local shopping centre is now a 30min drive away.)
It’s a nice area and I'm trying to be upbeat about it, but it’s definitely not as great as where we are now. Unfortunately the houses in our current area are going for about $800-$1000 a week, which is pretty steep – especially since I won’t be contributing to rent next year. But you know, all things told, it’s probably better to move. Both the 'rents have messed up their knees and the stairs weren’t really helping things. The house we’re hoping to get is freshly painted and carpeted and quite big, so there won’t be a lack of room at least.
Oh whatever. Doesn’t help to ponder these things. It has to be done and that’s it. We’ll deal. It’s more a case of it being unexpected…and being too comfortable were we are. I am going to do a major clean out this time though – I’m not lugging all that junk around again. I’ve reached the point where I’m quite happy to be ruthless. Ebay all the things!
In other news, yes, I finally got a second job. So I’ll be working pretty much all the time from mid November until Christmas eve. At “normal” work, things continue to be entirely batshit insane and one of the ad reps made a complaint about me to management on Thursday because he doesn’t like my attitude. I am cheerfully setting his car on fire with my mind. My parents aren’t speaking to me because I got annoyed at them for keeping me out all day Saturday after I was promised it wouldn’t be a late one and because I made the mistake of telling them I just wanted to be left alone, which they’re now taking to petty extremes. I’m not going to apologise either cause I’m still resentful of the fact that I always have to be everyone’s emotional support and yet the minute I slip up, that’s held up as some sort of trademark behaviour. It’s just like at work – no one ever notices when you’re doing things well, but make one mistake and you never hear the end of it.
It’s especially aggravating because I only went along on Saturday to help them out, a) by driving into the city and b) by keeping mum company as I know she doesn’t like going to these rugby things by herself because dad is useless and usually abandons her within 2 seconds flat (he is like a toddler, you have no idea). And I voiced all my reservations before we left so they were well aware of how I felt. But my dad doesn’t think, ever, so he agrees to things on a whim and so, at 11pm, I’m in Chinatown with a bunch of middle-aged couples. And all of them keep telling what a good daughter I am, how they wish their kids would come out with them and blah blah blah. Do my parents think so? No. Two days later, I'm still a pariah. Charming.
BUT! It’s not all annoyance. I attended a lovely High Tea at the Shangri La hotel yesterday, courtesy of L. It was prefectly decadent and exactly the right kind of escapism. Plus I got to catch up with R and K for a bit, always nice and relaxing. My friends always know when to save my sanity.
Now, back to work I suppose. The way things are going here, I won’t be surprised if I’m working till 7 or 8 every night this week. Sigh.
Music: Daytripper - The Beatles
Monday, February 7, 2011
Leave the front light on
I'm not going to lie to you, internet, I feel a little sorry for myself today. Not only is it Monday yet again, the start of another boring week of the same frakking nonsense, but also....actually, I think that's it. I just am not ready for another week yet. Friday was a hellish day and I need some more time off to face this *indicates to office* They are totally killing me here. If this was ye olde times, I'd be allowed the honour of falling on my pen...swords being in short supply, as it were.
Of course, I arrive to work this morning with an inbox still devoid of any client material (two weeks behind deadline now, yay) but never fear, there is talk about giving me more work to do on the website (wouldn't be so bad if it was actually a functional site and not a buggy mess that takes forever to update - to wit, it took me four hours to update it this morning. Yes, I talk like this now, reading tons of classical theory apparently does that) AND, and if this isn't the cherry on top of my cake of woe, they are considering pushing back ad deadlines. This means I will have no time to chase clients between ads being booked and editorial being due. When I voiced my concerns over this, I was asked why I couldn't just do it during sub week. Yes, because that's working out so well for us this issue, isn't it? Two weeks behind. Bah. They just don't get how useless clients are. Anyway, I refuse to do it. I refuse to place myself under such stress for nothing. They will either have to cut my workload, by cutting one of my mags, or I will leave. I am, after all, just one measly human being. I know I do a good job pretending I'm not, but that is still what I am.
So we shall see what comes of it, I suppose. In the meantime, I'll try to keep my head above water with what I've got. Ad reps are destroying me with their late sales, one in particular. Then there's the psycho woman who has a meltdown every five minutes and is like a dog chasing a bicycle. These two reps are responsible for most people leaving the company. I'm engaged in a war of fake niceties and pretend adherence to the rules. It's a war of attrition, that's what it is.
But it's ok. It's ok. A little over three months, I'll have been here a year, that's the first mark to get to. Five more after that, and I'll be on the opposite side of the world of this miserable hellhole (yes, dive right off the melodrama deep-end.) Deep breaths. With a little luck, I may just make it out of here with my soul still intact.
In the meantime, my drives to work are proving very creative at the moment. I came up with another novel idea this morning that I'm burning to write. Wish there was a way of actually getting ideas onto paper by themselves, cause I just don't have time to actually write. I'm focusing on Amped at the moment anyway, if I get distracted by other projects, it all ends in nothing getting done. But! Wrote it down! So maybe some time in the future, I'll get round to it.
I've realised that every time I mention Jared Leto, my post hits go up. So, I'm testing it to see if this one gets hits too. But, not to be entirely cruel and fickle, have this. It cracks me up so much. Matching hair, matching shoes, matching suitcase....hell, even the cars in the background match. What have we learnt? I may be feeling sorry for myself but I'm still very easily amused.
Music: The Cool - The Gaslight Anthem
Of course, I arrive to work this morning with an inbox still devoid of any client material (two weeks behind deadline now, yay) but never fear, there is talk about giving me more work to do on the website (wouldn't be so bad if it was actually a functional site and not a buggy mess that takes forever to update - to wit, it took me four hours to update it this morning. Yes, I talk like this now, reading tons of classical theory apparently does that) AND, and if this isn't the cherry on top of my cake of woe, they are considering pushing back ad deadlines. This means I will have no time to chase clients between ads being booked and editorial being due. When I voiced my concerns over this, I was asked why I couldn't just do it during sub week. Yes, because that's working out so well for us this issue, isn't it? Two weeks behind. Bah. They just don't get how useless clients are. Anyway, I refuse to do it. I refuse to place myself under such stress for nothing. They will either have to cut my workload, by cutting one of my mags, or I will leave. I am, after all, just one measly human being. I know I do a good job pretending I'm not, but that is still what I am.
So we shall see what comes of it, I suppose. In the meantime, I'll try to keep my head above water with what I've got. Ad reps are destroying me with their late sales, one in particular. Then there's the psycho woman who has a meltdown every five minutes and is like a dog chasing a bicycle. These two reps are responsible for most people leaving the company. I'm engaged in a war of fake niceties and pretend adherence to the rules. It's a war of attrition, that's what it is.
But it's ok. It's ok. A little over three months, I'll have been here a year, that's the first mark to get to. Five more after that, and I'll be on the opposite side of the world of this miserable hellhole (yes, dive right off the melodrama deep-end.) Deep breaths. With a little luck, I may just make it out of here with my soul still intact.
In the meantime, my drives to work are proving very creative at the moment. I came up with another novel idea this morning that I'm burning to write. Wish there was a way of actually getting ideas onto paper by themselves, cause I just don't have time to actually write. I'm focusing on Amped at the moment anyway, if I get distracted by other projects, it all ends in nothing getting done. But! Wrote it down! So maybe some time in the future, I'll get round to it.
I've realised that every time I mention Jared Leto, my post hits go up. So, I'm testing it to see if this one gets hits too. But, not to be entirely cruel and fickle, have this. It cracks me up so much. Matching hair, matching shoes, matching suitcase....hell, even the cars in the background match. What have we learnt? I may be feeling sorry for myself but I'm still very easily amused.
Music: The Cool - The Gaslight Anthem
Monday, October 18, 2010
Breathing is boring
I'm having an emo day. That's really the only way to describe it. No particular reason for it, I'm just feeling glum and deflated. Like the lone balloon superglued to the corner of my desk from some celebration years ago (it's kinda gross but I can't get it off).
Maybe it's cause it's Monday, maybe it's uni, maybe it's work and its endless repetitive bullshit, maybe it's tiredness or maybe it's just that I'm still coughing - maybe it's all of the above.
The prospect of class tonight however is definitely not helping matters. I lost interest in the subject alarmingly quickly and I don't think that's endeared me to anyone. I'm supposed to workshop this 1000 word piece tonight and already I've gotten emails from people complaining that they don't understand it. Ok granted, it is an excerpt of a novel and therefore lacks context, but I supplied both a summary of the novel and a blurb on what the chapter's about. This is the chapter I'm up to, I'm not going to submit anything earlier that that because what's the point of workshopping the same thing over and over again?
We were told we could submit more than a 1000 words for people to read and merely mark the bit we wanted to work on so I can understand the argument that I should have submitted the whole chapter. 'Cept I don't have the whole chapter. It's not done yet and I refuse to apologise for that. It would have been done if I hadn't lost the two weekends during the break, but I mean hell - unforeseen circumstances meant I just wasn't mentally up to it. Now I'm just generally in too bad a mood to care about making life easier for my classmates. Sure, it's your workshop and you're the one who suffers in the end, but frankly I doubt this class will rock my narrative world no matter what I give them. Besides, I've already done two workshops this semester, with another coming up on Thursday, so sorry popular fiction, you're last on the list of subjects making a valuable contribution to my education.
And I'm sorry, but it's ridiculous to constantly have to start new stories for classes. I'm doing masters to finish this novel, I'll present the chapters as assignments if I want to. So there.
See this attitude though? It's toxic. I've been so terrible lately, I snap at the slightest thing. Uni particularly. It's really, really getting me down. Not the work - I'm used to tons of work - but the people. I just don't have the patience for them and I don't have the patience to pretend to have the patience, if that makes sense. I'm frustrated by having to constantly loop back over things and by the inane questions and contributions. My mind goes at an alarming pace sometimes, and I don't want to have to stop and explain it to anyone. Maybe if the topics were interesting, or made interesting through some inspired teaching, but no such luck. Frankly, I resent having to cover material I already studied in undergrad just because some people didn't do undergrad. What happened to assumed knowledge? And why do we bother with prerequisite subjects then? I'm just bored with it all.
So yes, not looking forward to class. Not much looking forward to anything other than sleep really. Bah.
Oh hey, if you see my fifteen year old self running around anywhere, tell her she can have her stupid attitude back. Thanks.
Music: Thank you for the venom - My Chemical Romance
Mood: Emo
Maybe it's cause it's Monday, maybe it's uni, maybe it's work and its endless repetitive bullshit, maybe it's tiredness or maybe it's just that I'm still coughing - maybe it's all of the above.
The prospect of class tonight however is definitely not helping matters. I lost interest in the subject alarmingly quickly and I don't think that's endeared me to anyone. I'm supposed to workshop this 1000 word piece tonight and already I've gotten emails from people complaining that they don't understand it. Ok granted, it is an excerpt of a novel and therefore lacks context, but I supplied both a summary of the novel and a blurb on what the chapter's about. This is the chapter I'm up to, I'm not going to submit anything earlier that that because what's the point of workshopping the same thing over and over again?
We were told we could submit more than a 1000 words for people to read and merely mark the bit we wanted to work on so I can understand the argument that I should have submitted the whole chapter. 'Cept I don't have the whole chapter. It's not done yet and I refuse to apologise for that. It would have been done if I hadn't lost the two weekends during the break, but I mean hell - unforeseen circumstances meant I just wasn't mentally up to it. Now I'm just generally in too bad a mood to care about making life easier for my classmates. Sure, it's your workshop and you're the one who suffers in the end, but frankly I doubt this class will rock my narrative world no matter what I give them. Besides, I've already done two workshops this semester, with another coming up on Thursday, so sorry popular fiction, you're last on the list of subjects making a valuable contribution to my education.
And I'm sorry, but it's ridiculous to constantly have to start new stories for classes. I'm doing masters to finish this novel, I'll present the chapters as assignments if I want to. So there.
See this attitude though? It's toxic. I've been so terrible lately, I snap at the slightest thing. Uni particularly. It's really, really getting me down. Not the work - I'm used to tons of work - but the people. I just don't have the patience for them and I don't have the patience to pretend to have the patience, if that makes sense. I'm frustrated by having to constantly loop back over things and by the inane questions and contributions. My mind goes at an alarming pace sometimes, and I don't want to have to stop and explain it to anyone. Maybe if the topics were interesting, or made interesting through some inspired teaching, but no such luck. Frankly, I resent having to cover material I already studied in undergrad just because some people didn't do undergrad. What happened to assumed knowledge? And why do we bother with prerequisite subjects then? I'm just bored with it all.
So yes, not looking forward to class. Not much looking forward to anything other than sleep really. Bah.
Oh hey, if you see my fifteen year old self running around anywhere, tell her she can have her stupid attitude back. Thanks.
Music: Thank you for the venom - My Chemical Romance
Mood: Emo
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Your freedom comes naturally
Just a quick one from my lunchtime reading.
MSNBC are running an article on *sigh* Twilight, more specifically 'Is Twilight altering teen minds?' You can read it here. It begins with the obvious in my opinion -
MSNBC are running an article on *sigh* Twilight, more specifically 'Is Twilight altering teen minds?' You can read it here. It begins with the obvious in my opinion -
"We don't know exactly how literature affects the brain, but we know that it does," said Maria Nikolajeva, a Cambridge University professor of literature. "Some new findings have identified spots in the brain that respond to literature and art."
I think we're all aware that literature and art affects the brain. This is hardly a revolutionary development. I take issue with the following however, not because I like Twilight (which I do), but as a writer. First we have the predictable 'Bella is a bad role model' spiel -
"If you look very, very clearly at what kind of values the 'Twilight' books propagate, these are very conservative values that do not in any way endorse independent thinking or personal development or a woman's position as an independent creature," Nikolajeva said. "That's quite depressing."
And then it's followed up with -
Nikolajeva argued that authors have a moral responsibility to include some positivity and hope in works aimed at teens.
"If young people read books where there is no hope at all, it's really damaging," she said. "We need to be aware of young people's being influenced by what they read or watch, the games they play. It all plays a very important role."
Excuse me, what? Authors have a moral responsibility? I was under the impression authors were allowed to write stories, not merely fables. I don't agree with this at all. I think the only responsibility authors have is to be truthful. That truth might be different depending on the story sure, but it's not an author's job to police society and neither should it be. If kids prefer darker things, maybe it's simply because they recognise that reality as closer to their own, and relate more to it.
It really annoys me that in modern society we're so obsessed with the morals of things and constantly targeting outside influences such as films and video games, when frankly their function is not necessarily to teach. Hey parents, how about teaching your kids about life yourselves for a change, instead of expecting books and TV to do it all for you? Just a suggestion. I'm not denying that these things can exert influence, they can and lots of it, I just don't think it's black and white enough to be able to cast moral responsibilities, or in fact claim the right to do so.
And yes, I know some books do have morals, and of course it can be helpful if your reader can go on a journey along with your protagonist and hopefully learn something, but the idea that it's somehow a responsibility to be positive is ludicrous. Especially when you're a teenager. Who wants positive stuff when they're a teenager? I mean come on, teenagers are emo. During my later adolescence, R and I went through a phase where the only films we watched were of a tone that seemed to consistently require blue lighting. That's what being a teenager is.
Plus, I don't think Twilight is a series that lacks positivity or hope. In fact one of the things I liked about Breaking Dawn was how it ended completely on a positive note. Metaphorically, it was the sun coming out on a cloudy day (note: cloudy day, not thunderstorm, because as we all know sadly nothing happens in that book - and by nothing I mean the epic battle that we were due. Oh so due.) So you know, I don't know if you could necessarily accuse Stephenie Meyer of perpetuating hopelessness.
As I've mentioned before, I don't think Bella is the bad role model she's made out to be. I can only restate my belief that it's a dissonance between the books and the films that have caused this issue in the first place.
While I'm on this topic, I'd like to say I'm quite tired of people knocking Twilight in general. I get it, you know? It's crap, teenage girls are stupid, Meyer can't write, the concept is silly and offends horror sensibilities, and Buffy would have staked Edward ages ago. It's been a few years now, it's done. I just don't have it in me to laugh anymore. Sorry.
Now I shall end on one of my favourite quotes. It probably muddles everything, but that's just the way I roll -
What came first, the music or the misery? People worry about kids playing with guns, or watching violent videos, that some sort of culture of violence will take them over. Nobody worries about kids listening to thousands, literally thousands of songs about heartbreak, rejection, pain, misery and loss. Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?
From High Fidelity, based on the novel of the same name by Nick Hornby. Hornby, incidentally, is my go-to-guy for all things regarding the relationship between books/music/pop culture and personal identity. Now, back to work.
Music: Bliss - Muse
Mood: Busy
Monday, August 23, 2010
The path to the dark side
Seeing as I am probably going to have to work late tonight, I figure I can take some time out to do a blog. And by blog I mean whine. I cannot convey how much I hate my life right now. See, got right to it. No wasting time with niceties. This is going to be a gloom and doom post, if you're not interested in pathetic expressions of situation, I suggest you go elsewhere.
This particular state of oh-god-kill-me set in last night in class as sitting directly behind me was Tweedledum and Tweedledee. I'm not even kidding. Constantly giggling and chatting quietly to each other during the lecture, and making the sort of comments to actual discussion that made me want to turn around and glare at them led me to the realisation that holy crap, I'd become on of those people. I was also so short-tempered that I kind of blew up over The Da Vinci Code which was our set text. I've only read it once, back in Year 11, but I remember being completely incapable of putting it down. Of course in class it started out with the 'let's discuss how terrible it is' vibe and then the ten million dollar remark that it was meant 'for the great unwashed.' Fucking literary snobs. In my opinion, when analysing the success of a book such as The Da Vinci Code, there is no point looking at it from the point of view of 'I am a Masters student, hear my theory roar!' Put yourself in the shoes of your average person who just reads for enjoyment and then analyse why it worked. Sure it's not War & Peace, but what average person wants to read that? This then is precisely the view point I took. Screw it, there is a tendency in educational institutions where people will harp on about something being bad merely because that's what they think should be done - let me tell you something, they all wish they could sell as well as Dan Brown - or JK Rowling, who is another author that gets knocked all the time at uni.
Jealousy's the cousin, the cousin of greed.
Rah. It wasn't that bad though, they seemed to concede the point after discussion. I'm just particularly touchy because I have put up with four years worth of thinking along those lines. Which brings me to my original point, for the first time ever I actually felt over uni. Completely over it in the can't-wait-to-get-out-of-here way. I think it comes off the back of the feeling that none of the subjects I'm taking this semester can really teach me anything new. I've taken so many writing classes that, while popular fiction approaches it from a different angle, it's just beating the same drum really. And Theory & Writing is in essence the same framework as Culture & Poetics and my Honours Writing Workshop.
Now, arguably this is what a Masters program is for, building upon your existing knowledge to augment a wider understanding of different issues. That'd be fine....if I wasn't also working full-time. I don't have the patience to spend three hours a night essentially looking at a familiar landscape with new glasses, I don't have the time to really engage with eighty pages worth of reading every week...and as a result I fear I'm getting nothing new out of the classes. An attitude problem on my part, I admit, but I don't know what I can do about it. I just don't care.
Then there's work - ugh. Loathsome. That is all. I absolutely loathe it. I don't know how I am expected to get through this kind of work load every single month, it's fucking insane. For one magazine I have 25 editorials in one section, 8 in another, a business profile, and 10 in yet another. And because the ad guys sell late and clients are idiots, I am still to receive material for 16 of these - and it's deadline on Friday. Plus three introductions need to be written for the separate sections. Yeah, you think, that's not so bad, what are you complaining about? Keep in mind this is just one magazine, I have two others as well and I am supposed to update the website. It wouldn't even be so bad if it wasn't for the fact that I am also the lackey, so it's not like I can just sit here and bang it all out in five hours. Oh and of course that hinges on clients actually supplying information. My head cannot meet my desk hard enough to express my frustration. It just cannot be done.
So anyway yes, the combined elements of work and uni (even though I know my feelings towards uni are symptomatic of my feelings toward work) has left me with a general deflated outlook on my life as a whole - considering that 90% of my life consists of work and uni, not all together surprising. And I know this is taking a toll on me too because my hair is in an absolutely terrible state - sounds weird, but my hair is always the first thing to go. I just cannot believe that this is my life - that I have done this to myself. Four months ago I had a cushy part-time job, and sure I may not have had paid leave, but I had free time. Honestly, what the hell was I thinking? Actually, I know what I was thinking, the same thing my mum keeps telling me, that'd I'd learn a lot and it would help further along the track....but first I have to get further down the track. Groan.
Still a year, over a year of this, of every month going through this exact same thing again and again. I fear if the frustration doesn't kill me, the mediocrity will. I'm hoping that having something to work towards - a proverbial light at the end of the tunnel - will get me through it relatively sane. Just knowing that there is an end. Not quite as soon as I'd maybe like, but it's there. The very longest I have to stay here is 64 weeks aka 447 days - only 320 of which are work days, excluding public holidays and time off (I think, I don't know, my math is pretty dodgy.) And then....the great unknown. I cannot imagine anything better. Speaking of days off, I'm taking two off next week to go to Aussiecon, so hey, I guess it's not all bad.
So that's the blah blah blah woe is me, 'I better do well in this degree regardless of all this or someone will get hurt' nonsense out of the way. Scott Pilgrim review to follow later.
Music: None, forgot to charge my iPod
Mood: Frustrated
This particular state of oh-god-kill-me set in last night in class as sitting directly behind me was Tweedledum and Tweedledee. I'm not even kidding. Constantly giggling and chatting quietly to each other during the lecture, and making the sort of comments to actual discussion that made me want to turn around and glare at them led me to the realisation that holy crap, I'd become on of those people. I was also so short-tempered that I kind of blew up over The Da Vinci Code which was our set text. I've only read it once, back in Year 11, but I remember being completely incapable of putting it down. Of course in class it started out with the 'let's discuss how terrible it is' vibe and then the ten million dollar remark that it was meant 'for the great unwashed.' Fucking literary snobs. In my opinion, when analysing the success of a book such as The Da Vinci Code, there is no point looking at it from the point of view of 'I am a Masters student, hear my theory roar!' Put yourself in the shoes of your average person who just reads for enjoyment and then analyse why it worked. Sure it's not War & Peace, but what average person wants to read that? This then is precisely the view point I took. Screw it, there is a tendency in educational institutions where people will harp on about something being bad merely because that's what they think should be done - let me tell you something, they all wish they could sell as well as Dan Brown - or JK Rowling, who is another author that gets knocked all the time at uni.
Jealousy's the cousin, the cousin of greed.
Rah. It wasn't that bad though, they seemed to concede the point after discussion. I'm just particularly touchy because I have put up with four years worth of thinking along those lines. Which brings me to my original point, for the first time ever I actually felt over uni. Completely over it in the can't-wait-to-get-out-of-here way. I think it comes off the back of the feeling that none of the subjects I'm taking this semester can really teach me anything new. I've taken so many writing classes that, while popular fiction approaches it from a different angle, it's just beating the same drum really. And Theory & Writing is in essence the same framework as Culture & Poetics and my Honours Writing Workshop.
Now, arguably this is what a Masters program is for, building upon your existing knowledge to augment a wider understanding of different issues. That'd be fine....if I wasn't also working full-time. I don't have the patience to spend three hours a night essentially looking at a familiar landscape with new glasses, I don't have the time to really engage with eighty pages worth of reading every week...and as a result I fear I'm getting nothing new out of the classes. An attitude problem on my part, I admit, but I don't know what I can do about it. I just don't care.
Then there's work - ugh. Loathsome. That is all. I absolutely loathe it. I don't know how I am expected to get through this kind of work load every single month, it's fucking insane. For one magazine I have 25 editorials in one section, 8 in another, a business profile, and 10 in yet another. And because the ad guys sell late and clients are idiots, I am still to receive material for 16 of these - and it's deadline on Friday. Plus three introductions need to be written for the separate sections. Yeah, you think, that's not so bad, what are you complaining about? Keep in mind this is just one magazine, I have two others as well and I am supposed to update the website. It wouldn't even be so bad if it wasn't for the fact that I am also the lackey, so it's not like I can just sit here and bang it all out in five hours. Oh and of course that hinges on clients actually supplying information. My head cannot meet my desk hard enough to express my frustration. It just cannot be done.
So anyway yes, the combined elements of work and uni (even though I know my feelings towards uni are symptomatic of my feelings toward work) has left me with a general deflated outlook on my life as a whole - considering that 90% of my life consists of work and uni, not all together surprising. And I know this is taking a toll on me too because my hair is in an absolutely terrible state - sounds weird, but my hair is always the first thing to go. I just cannot believe that this is my life - that I have done this to myself. Four months ago I had a cushy part-time job, and sure I may not have had paid leave, but I had free time. Honestly, what the hell was I thinking? Actually, I know what I was thinking, the same thing my mum keeps telling me, that'd I'd learn a lot and it would help further along the track....but first I have to get further down the track. Groan.
Still a year, over a year of this, of every month going through this exact same thing again and again. I fear if the frustration doesn't kill me, the mediocrity will. I'm hoping that having something to work towards - a proverbial light at the end of the tunnel - will get me through it relatively sane. Just knowing that there is an end. Not quite as soon as I'd maybe like, but it's there. The very longest I have to stay here is 64 weeks aka 447 days - only 320 of which are work days, excluding public holidays and time off (I think, I don't know, my math is pretty dodgy.) And then....the great unknown. I cannot imagine anything better. Speaking of days off, I'm taking two off next week to go to Aussiecon, so hey, I guess it's not all bad.
So that's the blah blah blah woe is me, 'I better do well in this degree regardless of all this or someone will get hurt' nonsense out of the way. Scott Pilgrim review to follow later.
Music: None, forgot to charge my iPod
Mood: Frustrated
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Feminists, there’s one in every class
In my Theory & Writing class there is woman who is an ardent feminist. You know the kind I mean, the sort that finds misogyny in virtually everything. There is usually one to be found in every class and it is a never ending source of pain and frustration for me.
Now, first, understand that I am not anti-feminist or one who conforms to traditional gender roles. I was raised to believe in equality between the sexes, and I was very much taught that I could do whatever I wanted. I’ve never backed off of something because it was a ‘boy’ thing. Growing up, you could just have soon have found me building a tree house with my cousins or playing with my Barbie collection (I don’t think Barbie is anti-feminist either, ask me why! I don’t think there is enough discourse from a subjective point of view, the same way I don’t there is enough focus on discourse that suggests Twilight/Bella is not misogynistic/passive as many critics suggest. As Newton said, to every action there’s an equal and opposite reaction and imo it should be acknowledged.)
But the thing is, I am proud to be a woman. I’m quite happy with it. And I think I’m quite capable of wearing a pair of heels and still being an intelligent human being, going after what I want. Looking at my list of women I think are pretty awesome, you’ll notice most of them manage to be competent, strong women who can also be sexy when they want to be. There seems to be a trend within ardent feminism that you have to forgo your femininity, I suppose because femininity is a social construction, and that you can’t be taken seriously if you continue to conform – ie wearing heels and agonising over your eye shadow choice.
Here’s the thing though, men and women are different. Undeniably so. Nothing will change that. I guess I’m more an equalitarian, I think we can be different, that we should be different in fact, and still be entitled to equal opportunities. Who’s to say I can’t celebrate that difference and don a skirt, and still be taken seriously? I say I can. I also say feminism had its place in forging the path for me to be able to say these things, but that the moment has passed. Frankly, sometimes I think ardent feminists do more harm than good. They continually paint women as victims, and sometimes I just wish they’d let it go.
So if I sit in class as virtually every single thing we read is dubbed to have ‘misogynistic’ undertones and I roll my eyes, please excuse me. I think you see what you want to see, so you can get on your soapbox. Let it go, let’s move on. And let’s not think the only way we can earn respect and equality is by becoming more masculine, isn’t that just conforming to a different type?
Music: Revolution - The Beatles
Mood: Relaxed
Now, first, understand that I am not anti-feminist or one who conforms to traditional gender roles. I was raised to believe in equality between the sexes, and I was very much taught that I could do whatever I wanted. I’ve never backed off of something because it was a ‘boy’ thing. Growing up, you could just have soon have found me building a tree house with my cousins or playing with my Barbie collection (I don’t think Barbie is anti-feminist either, ask me why! I don’t think there is enough discourse from a subjective point of view, the same way I don’t there is enough focus on discourse that suggests Twilight/Bella is not misogynistic/passive as many critics suggest. As Newton said, to every action there’s an equal and opposite reaction and imo it should be acknowledged.)
But the thing is, I am proud to be a woman. I’m quite happy with it. And I think I’m quite capable of wearing a pair of heels and still being an intelligent human being, going after what I want. Looking at my list of women I think are pretty awesome, you’ll notice most of them manage to be competent, strong women who can also be sexy when they want to be. There seems to be a trend within ardent feminism that you have to forgo your femininity, I suppose because femininity is a social construction, and that you can’t be taken seriously if you continue to conform – ie wearing heels and agonising over your eye shadow choice.
Here’s the thing though, men and women are different. Undeniably so. Nothing will change that. I guess I’m more an equalitarian, I think we can be different, that we should be different in fact, and still be entitled to equal opportunities. Who’s to say I can’t celebrate that difference and don a skirt, and still be taken seriously? I say I can. I also say feminism had its place in forging the path for me to be able to say these things, but that the moment has passed. Frankly, sometimes I think ardent feminists do more harm than good. They continually paint women as victims, and sometimes I just wish they’d let it go.
So if I sit in class as virtually every single thing we read is dubbed to have ‘misogynistic’ undertones and I roll my eyes, please excuse me. I think you see what you want to see, so you can get on your soapbox. Let it go, let’s move on. And let’s not think the only way we can earn respect and equality is by becoming more masculine, isn’t that just conforming to a different type?
Music: Revolution - The Beatles
Mood: Relaxed
Friday, July 23, 2010
Today's special: rant of the broken record variety
There’s something that annoys me, something subtle and perhaps it may not seem like a big deal….but it annoys me all the same. It comes from remarks such as "You’re too pretty to be emo", "Geek girls have no style", or as a radio announcer asked Alex Perry the other day "Will we ever see a girl with chunky thighs and a PhD on Top Model?" (paraphrasing, obviously) So what exactly are we implying here, that all PhD students have chunky thighs? That pretty girls can’t be smart and into other things?
People have very clear pictures of how others should look and act, and fit them into the necessary boxes. You wear a lot of black? Into the Goth and emo box you go. You watch Star Trek? Well, then clearly you should go into the geek category. You do well at uni, you wear glasses, you follow celeb gossip, you read comic books, you have a studded belt…whatever, it’ll get you placed firmly in a category. It’s human nature to classify and order, I suppose.
The fact of the matter is, people very rarely fit into such narrow categories. It’s possible to be many things at once, to belong to many groups at the same time without great difficulty. This is hardly revolutionary information and I know I’m covering old ground. I’ve even made peace with society’s incessant need to label absolutely everything. It’s the comments that fire me up. "You’re too pretty to be emo." I mean really. Who says that to someone? Are you really judging an entire collective of people, and then, worst of all, somehow think you’re bestowing a compliment? Come on man, grow up.
I wear a lot of black, I have emo sensibilities, I listen to bands of dubious quality and go to shows, I have an eclectic knowledge of punk history, I’m smart, I write, I like Twilight and Harry Potter, I watch at least an hour of sci-fi a day, I play chess and I’m good at it, I like astronomy, I’m fascinated by comic books, I follow movie news obsessively, I soak up lyrics and quotes like a sponge, I "know the ways of the fangirl", I know the latest trends, I love cars and bikes, I go to rugby games whenever I can, I have more pairs of high heels than I need, I love all things macabre and all things French, I want to earn my PhD and if I lost two kilos, I’d definitely be thin enough to audition for Top Model if I wanted to. And everyone who’s ever made stupid comments to me about where I do and don’t "fit" can go right to hell. I don’t fit anywhere, and that’s exactly the way I like it.
Music: Golden - Fall Out Boy
Mood: Bored
People have very clear pictures of how others should look and act, and fit them into the necessary boxes. You wear a lot of black? Into the Goth and emo box you go. You watch Star Trek? Well, then clearly you should go into the geek category. You do well at uni, you wear glasses, you follow celeb gossip, you read comic books, you have a studded belt…whatever, it’ll get you placed firmly in a category. It’s human nature to classify and order, I suppose.
The fact of the matter is, people very rarely fit into such narrow categories. It’s possible to be many things at once, to belong to many groups at the same time without great difficulty. This is hardly revolutionary information and I know I’m covering old ground. I’ve even made peace with society’s incessant need to label absolutely everything. It’s the comments that fire me up. "You’re too pretty to be emo." I mean really. Who says that to someone? Are you really judging an entire collective of people, and then, worst of all, somehow think you’re bestowing a compliment? Come on man, grow up.
I wear a lot of black, I have emo sensibilities, I listen to bands of dubious quality and go to shows, I have an eclectic knowledge of punk history, I’m smart, I write, I like Twilight and Harry Potter, I watch at least an hour of sci-fi a day, I play chess and I’m good at it, I like astronomy, I’m fascinated by comic books, I follow movie news obsessively, I soak up lyrics and quotes like a sponge, I "know the ways of the fangirl", I know the latest trends, I love cars and bikes, I go to rugby games whenever I can, I have more pairs of high heels than I need, I love all things macabre and all things French, I want to earn my PhD and if I lost two kilos, I’d definitely be thin enough to audition for Top Model if I wanted to. And everyone who’s ever made stupid comments to me about where I do and don’t "fit" can go right to hell. I don’t fit anywhere, and that’s exactly the way I like it.
Music: Golden - Fall Out Boy
Mood: Bored
Thursday, July 8, 2010
I guess we all need help
July, ladies and gentlemen, is my least favourite month of the year. Officially. I think from now on I'll just try to stay home as much as possible and not touch anything. Why, you ask? Well, because life sucks of course! Silly questions deserve silly answers as my mother would say. Psh.
Look, Tuesday was just the most fucked up day for me. Long-time readers of my nonsense blog may recall that July last year was when I realised I'd truly gone 'round the bend and was emotionally crippled. But anywho, been there, done that.
So Tuesday I'm driving to work when I have one of those sneezes - you know the kind I mean. The kind that seem to take forever to build up and you take like two good breaths before you sneeze so hard, you can feel your brain rattling round your skull. And as my head rocks forward, I'm greeted with a bang. I didn't sneeze that hard. (I'd like to make a side note that it is incredibly unfair that I was sneezing in the first place, I've been sniffly every morning for the last few weeks as I would normally be with hayfever - but it's winter. How is that fair??) No, while my brain was trying to cleverly escape through my nose, the car in front of me had stopped and I had bounced neatly off his tow bar. Oh yeah, this was a good start to the day. I might point out that this was morning traffic, not as bad as it normally is cause it's school holidays at the moment, so the cars were actually moving. We were slowly cruising along, only then suddenly we weren't.
To be honest with you, I still have no idea how it happened. It's just so bizarre! I think Lizzie and I may have discussed the dangers of sneezing and driving once, we most probably jinxed it. Aaaaanyway, the dude's car is perfectly fine as his tow bar cleverly protected him, but Martha is all bent out of shape. Not too bad, I think, Just a new bumper and number plate, bit of a bend out, she's good to go. So we exchange details, I try very hard not to make inappropriate comments about his name (one word: Batman) and decide to continue on to work. Now, this happened not even a km from where my dad had his epic bike crash last July and still quite close to home. Here is where we learn a vital lesson - if you're in an accident, pop the bonnet and have a look, even if it just looks like the bumper is a bit cracked.
I got about halfway to work before I realised the car didn't normally smell like burning. A bunch of lights didn't normally start flashing either. And, most importantly, the car generally didn't normally smoke lightly. As Martha abruptly died in the slightly-lighter-than-normal peak hour traffic, I flicked her into neutral and guided her to a painted island at a major intersection. Lesson number two - it pays to remember your brakes don't work in an automatic car when it's off.
I stayed in this spot for the next two hours, despite my valiant attempts to call auseless tow truck. I popped the hood (no billowing smoke, definitely a good sign) and immediately noticed that the bumper had pushed back into the fan, and that's why the car was overheating. I checked the oil and water just to be safe, all levels were fine with no cracks or leaks to be found. Another plus! Then I had to call *sigh* the parental unit. Surprisingly not as pissed as I expected - I think it helps that they haven't actually seen the car and therefore have no image to associate with the damage, making it less "real" if you will. Whatever, it works in my favour.
Long story short, the towing company was absolutely useless. I kept periodically getting out to check on the engine - the old fashion way, by touching it, I've earned a nice, small burn on my hand for my trouble (I iz hardcore mechanic, I iz!) - and complained about Top Gear a whole lot, actually (and why shouldn't I - have you seen what they do those cars? And when they blow up on the side of the road, they just get back in and drive off again later! You have given me false perceptions of my cars' limits, Top Gear, you should be ashamed of yourselves!) By ten thirty, I'd spent over 40 minutes on the phone to various people and decided enough was enough - I consulted my dad over the wisdom of my decision and then coaxed Martha back to life. The insurance agency assessment centre was just ten minutes away and I was muttering encouraging words to the poor cooked thing all the way there. And we made it, huzzah!
Some paperwork and nonsense later, I'm standing there as the assessor evaluates the damage and feeling like crap. I can't even explain how bad I felt, and still feel. Martha's not even a year old, she was in absolutely perfect, perfect condition. You think you can't feel bad for an non-sentient object? Think again. I couldn't have felt worse if I had run over a dog. She doesn't deserve this. Which brings me to another point - perhaps I doom our vehicles by the names I give them? Jack is the car that constantly returns to life without fail, and now Martha is damaged and doomed to go off somewhere on her own by someone who just didn't treat her right. At least we should be safe with the other car, what could possibly fell the Antichrist? [We actually mostly refer to it as the Canyonero these days - but that catches fire! No more!]
With that tremendous fuck up to my name, I finally managed to get to work at 11. I haven't heard anything back from the mechanic yet, but fingers crossed no major engine damage was inflicted by the overheating. I said fingers crossed people! Cross them! Baaaah *headdesk* Sigh.
But if last July taught me anything, it's that things can always get worse (and having permanently reset my threshold for mania) so I'm not dwelling on any of it or getting upset anymore. No, no time for that sort of thing. Now don't mind me while I lock myself in my room for the rest of the month.
[Next year, I'm declaring July Remembrance Month, a religious period of the Church of Gallifrey to make it legal, and taking the time off work. Why tempt fate?]
Music: Mona Lisa - The All American Rejects
Mood: Annoyed
Look, Tuesday was just the most fucked up day for me. Long-time readers of my nonsense blog may recall that July last year was when I realised I'd truly gone 'round the bend and was emotionally crippled. But anywho, been there, done that.
So Tuesday I'm driving to work when I have one of those sneezes - you know the kind I mean. The kind that seem to take forever to build up and you take like two good breaths before you sneeze so hard, you can feel your brain rattling round your skull. And as my head rocks forward, I'm greeted with a bang. I didn't sneeze that hard. (I'd like to make a side note that it is incredibly unfair that I was sneezing in the first place, I've been sniffly every morning for the last few weeks as I would normally be with hayfever - but it's winter. How is that fair??) No, while my brain was trying to cleverly escape through my nose, the car in front of me had stopped and I had bounced neatly off his tow bar. Oh yeah, this was a good start to the day. I might point out that this was morning traffic, not as bad as it normally is cause it's school holidays at the moment, so the cars were actually moving. We were slowly cruising along, only then suddenly we weren't.
To be honest with you, I still have no idea how it happened. It's just so bizarre! I think Lizzie and I may have discussed the dangers of sneezing and driving once, we most probably jinxed it. Aaaaanyway, the dude's car is perfectly fine as his tow bar cleverly protected him, but Martha is all bent out of shape. Not too bad, I think, Just a new bumper and number plate, bit of a bend out, she's good to go. So we exchange details, I try very hard not to make inappropriate comments about his name (one word: Batman) and decide to continue on to work. Now, this happened not even a km from where my dad had his epic bike crash last July and still quite close to home. Here is where we learn a vital lesson - if you're in an accident, pop the bonnet and have a look, even if it just looks like the bumper is a bit cracked.
I got about halfway to work before I realised the car didn't normally smell like burning. A bunch of lights didn't normally start flashing either. And, most importantly, the car generally didn't normally smoke lightly. As Martha abruptly died in the slightly-lighter-than-normal peak hour traffic, I flicked her into neutral and guided her to a painted island at a major intersection. Lesson number two - it pays to remember your brakes don't work in an automatic car when it's off.
I stayed in this spot for the next two hours, despite my valiant attempts to call a
Long story short, the towing company was absolutely useless. I kept periodically getting out to check on the engine - the old fashion way, by touching it, I've earned a nice, small burn on my hand for my trouble (I iz hardcore mechanic, I iz!) - and complained about Top Gear a whole lot, actually (and why shouldn't I - have you seen what they do those cars? And when they blow up on the side of the road, they just get back in and drive off again later! You have given me false perceptions of my cars' limits, Top Gear, you should be ashamed of yourselves!) By ten thirty, I'd spent over 40 minutes on the phone to various people and decided enough was enough - I consulted my dad over the wisdom of my decision and then coaxed Martha back to life. The insurance agency assessment centre was just ten minutes away and I was muttering encouraging words to the poor cooked thing all the way there. And we made it, huzzah!
Some paperwork and nonsense later, I'm standing there as the assessor evaluates the damage and feeling like crap. I can't even explain how bad I felt, and still feel. Martha's not even a year old, she was in absolutely perfect, perfect condition. You think you can't feel bad for an non-sentient object? Think again. I couldn't have felt worse if I had run over a dog. She doesn't deserve this. Which brings me to another point - perhaps I doom our vehicles by the names I give them? Jack is the car that constantly returns to life without fail, and now Martha is damaged and doomed to go off somewhere on her own by someone who just didn't treat her right. At least we should be safe with the other car, what could possibly fell the Antichrist? [We actually mostly refer to it as the Canyonero these days - but that catches fire! No more!]
With that tremendous fuck up to my name, I finally managed to get to work at 11. I haven't heard anything back from the mechanic yet, but fingers crossed no major engine damage was inflicted by the overheating. I said fingers crossed people! Cross them! Baaaah *headdesk* Sigh.
But if last July taught me anything, it's that things can always get worse (and having permanently reset my threshold for mania) so I'm not dwelling on any of it or getting upset anymore. No, no time for that sort of thing. Now don't mind me while I lock myself in my room for the rest of the month.
[Next year, I'm declaring July Remembrance Month, a religious period of the Church of Gallifrey to make it legal, and taking the time off work. Why tempt fate?]
Music: Mona Lisa - The All American Rejects
Mood: Annoyed
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Gin and malicious intent
Let's start with some positives, shall we? Neil Gaiman is going to be in a few events at the Opera House in August, and I have secured tickets, huzzah. For the panel he's doing with Shaun Tan there were only three left, so I was really lucky getting those. Definitely something to look forward to. There's also Florence + The Machine, a Wil Anderson comedy show I'm taking Lizzie to as part of her birthday present (which actually still hasn't arrived, huh) and then Muse, way off in the future. But hey - stuff!
On the other hand, there's work. On this I have one thing to say - gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. Sigh. So much of it. SO MUCH. I am just one measly human being. I've inadvertently become involved in some office politics as well since apparently they want to give me more work to do. Now I've always known I'd have to take on the website, and I don't mind cause I enjoy online work, but I don't actually know how I'm physically meant to fit it into my schedule. It might be possible when I only have the two deadlines, but when there's the three of them, I just don't see how there'd be time. I'm not going to work 12 hour days when I just get paid for 8 of them. Besides, when I go back to uni, I won't even be able to do that. And I'll have French on Saturdays, I need to have some down time too. The deputy editor and I were already in till 6 yesterday making corrections. Everyone tells me to just say no to more work (just say no kids!) but I'm not exactly in the position to do that, I was told I'd have to take on the website when I was first interviewed. Then again, I didn't realise how much work it already was back then, and I certainly didn't know about the stupid reception cover. So I'll see if I could maybe drop something else. Why can't we just get an intern in to do some of the annoying paperwork - unpaid work experience kids! That's what they're there for! Ah well, I will cross that bridge when I get to it. I figure I just have to roll with the punches and do what I can. I keep telling myself not to get too stressed or worked up, it's just for a year, it'll be fine. So that's the mantra - it's just for a year. It'll help to have an end date on things you know, when they start going a bit crazy. I'm fully committed to it for that time, the time it takes me to finish my degree, but beyond that, well, there are other plans in the works. This job will look good on my resume, it has tons of elements and I'm making a good impression, and that is all that matters in the end. Means to an end. I just have to survive - thus the mantra. I keep a little covert countdown on the calendar at work, I really think knowing there's an exit strategy will keep me sane in the end.
Other than that, it's the same old story. I have tons to do but I'm not getting it done. I've been really floored today - have just been sitting on the couch nursing a headache. I'm feeling a bit off but I don't know if it's because I'm getting sick (the guy next to me on the plane was coughing a lot) or whether it's still a jetlag response. I was completely over that on Thursday though. Huh. My neighbours' exceptionally loud dance music isn't helping things. Not to be a grumpy old lady, but SHUT UP. I don't mind a party, but this is practically every weekend! And it's not even good music! It's so loud in my room too cause it's right at the back of the house. I'm not even bothering trying to sleep, watching Numb3rs instead.
Did I ever mention the trip back home from Bangkok? Let me tell you something, downgrading from Business class to Economy is a terrible thing to do to your body. Economy isn't so bad when you start out there, but squashed between two guys for 14 hours where one woke me up for dinner (I refrained from biting his head off, I know he meant well, but it's too hard to fall asleep back there, I don't appreciate being woken up for dodgy food) and the other kept elbowing me in the ribs (I have bruises) and huffing when I shifted in my seat, like I was disturbing him by making full use of my seat, after you've had your own fully reclining space is just awful. Also, there is nowhere to put my legs. Nowhere. I know I sound like a total spoiled brat, but hell. I'd rather fly economy all the way than have to swap like that again.
But I digress. Next up, I must purge, cause you know what? I’m tired of walking on egg-shells. I know I’m a bit of a walking contradiction, I tell people this all the time. When you get to know me, I’m pretty nice at first and I hold my tongue, but usually after you’ve known me a few years I tend to just say exactly what I’m thinking. We might not always agree, I might not always get something, but I am perfectly fine with other people doing and being exactly who and what they want. And I’ll always support my friends, even when I don’t necessarily get it. I open up after a few years cause that’s how long it takes me to get comfortable with other people, and when I am, I assume they’d be comfortable with me too, for me to be completely open and honest. I’ll make fun of you, damn right I will, but you can make fun of me too – don’t take it personally, there’s nothing malicious in it. Scathing sarcasm just comes naturally to me, that’s all. Sometimes I’ll go too far, but sometimes other people will too – we’re all just human at the end of the day and some things are unavoidable. I want to be completely honest, and I ask for the same. I say what I think straight to your face, I want you to do the same. If you cant handle it, if you can’t handle me, then let me go. That’s how life works for me.
Cut straight the random pics/links, cause I have the attention span of a goldfish: -
So Torchwood. There's a whole series of these pinups by Aly Fell featured here at io9. It's totally my thing, glamorous and totally dangerous. I have issues.
Ugh, would it be wrong to set the cars outside my neighbours' house on fire to get them all to leave?
To end this disjointed blog on a completely disjointed note:
"You're just one man."
"So are you, pal."
You kick ass, Don Eppes. In fact, Eppes brothers FTW!
Music: Numb3rs
Mood: Indifferent
On the other hand, there's work. On this I have one thing to say - gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. Sigh. So much of it. SO MUCH. I am just one measly human being. I've inadvertently become involved in some office politics as well since apparently they want to give me more work to do. Now I've always known I'd have to take on the website, and I don't mind cause I enjoy online work, but I don't actually know how I'm physically meant to fit it into my schedule. It might be possible when I only have the two deadlines, but when there's the three of them, I just don't see how there'd be time. I'm not going to work 12 hour days when I just get paid for 8 of them. Besides, when I go back to uni, I won't even be able to do that. And I'll have French on Saturdays, I need to have some down time too. The deputy editor and I were already in till 6 yesterday making corrections. Everyone tells me to just say no to more work (just say no kids!) but I'm not exactly in the position to do that, I was told I'd have to take on the website when I was first interviewed. Then again, I didn't realise how much work it already was back then, and I certainly didn't know about the stupid reception cover. So I'll see if I could maybe drop something else. Why can't we just get an intern in to do some of the annoying paperwork - unpaid work experience kids! That's what they're there for! Ah well, I will cross that bridge when I get to it. I figure I just have to roll with the punches and do what I can. I keep telling myself not to get too stressed or worked up, it's just for a year, it'll be fine. So that's the mantra - it's just for a year. It'll help to have an end date on things you know, when they start going a bit crazy. I'm fully committed to it for that time, the time it takes me to finish my degree, but beyond that, well, there are other plans in the works. This job will look good on my resume, it has tons of elements and I'm making a good impression, and that is all that matters in the end. Means to an end. I just have to survive - thus the mantra. I keep a little covert countdown on the calendar at work, I really think knowing there's an exit strategy will keep me sane in the end.
Other than that, it's the same old story. I have tons to do but I'm not getting it done. I've been really floored today - have just been sitting on the couch nursing a headache. I'm feeling a bit off but I don't know if it's because I'm getting sick (the guy next to me on the plane was coughing a lot) or whether it's still a jetlag response. I was completely over that on Thursday though. Huh. My neighbours' exceptionally loud dance music isn't helping things. Not to be a grumpy old lady, but SHUT UP. I don't mind a party, but this is practically every weekend! And it's not even good music! It's so loud in my room too cause it's right at the back of the house. I'm not even bothering trying to sleep, watching Numb3rs instead.
Did I ever mention the trip back home from Bangkok? Let me tell you something, downgrading from Business class to Economy is a terrible thing to do to your body. Economy isn't so bad when you start out there, but squashed between two guys for 14 hours where one woke me up for dinner (I refrained from biting his head off, I know he meant well, but it's too hard to fall asleep back there, I don't appreciate being woken up for dodgy food) and the other kept elbowing me in the ribs (I have bruises) and huffing when I shifted in my seat, like I was disturbing him by making full use of my seat, after you've had your own fully reclining space is just awful. Also, there is nowhere to put my legs. Nowhere. I know I sound like a total spoiled brat, but hell. I'd rather fly economy all the way than have to swap like that again.
But I digress. Next up, I must purge, cause you know what? I’m tired of walking on egg-shells. I know I’m a bit of a walking contradiction, I tell people this all the time. When you get to know me, I’m pretty nice at first and I hold my tongue, but usually after you’ve known me a few years I tend to just say exactly what I’m thinking. We might not always agree, I might not always get something, but I am perfectly fine with other people doing and being exactly who and what they want. And I’ll always support my friends, even when I don’t necessarily get it. I open up after a few years cause that’s how long it takes me to get comfortable with other people, and when I am, I assume they’d be comfortable with me too, for me to be completely open and honest. I’ll make fun of you, damn right I will, but you can make fun of me too – don’t take it personally, there’s nothing malicious in it. Scathing sarcasm just comes naturally to me, that’s all. Sometimes I’ll go too far, but sometimes other people will too – we’re all just human at the end of the day and some things are unavoidable. I want to be completely honest, and I ask for the same. I say what I think straight to your face, I want you to do the same. If you cant handle it, if you can’t handle me, then let me go. That’s how life works for me.
Cut straight the random pics/links, cause I have the attention span of a goldfish: -
So Torchwood. There's a whole series of these pinups by Aly Fell featured here at io9. It's totally my thing, glamorous and totally dangerous. I have issues.
Ugh, would it be wrong to set the cars outside my neighbours' house on fire to get them all to leave?
To end this disjointed blog on a completely disjointed note:
"You're just one man."
"So are you, pal."
You kick ass, Don Eppes. In fact, Eppes brothers FTW!
Music: Numb3rs
Mood: Indifferent
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Written after a stressed out first day back
I think it was Abbi who wrote that it wasn't worth going on holiday because it was just too much of a mess when you got home - I can't help but agree. Oh my god, the madness I walked into today *headdesk*
I'm mostly pissed off. They said a freelancer was going to cover my work while I wasn't there, and it didn't happen. Instead they just expected the deputy editor to cover everything and she obviously has enough of her own work to do, so nothing has happened with mine. The reps have also gone nuts in the meantime apparently, and I now have 35 advertorials to write for our "travel" section (for context, that's 20 pages, and they're actually supposed to have a limit of 15) The worst thing is that it's NZ, and I'm supposed to call up the stores to make sure I get the info by deadline but I can't cause I'm not allowed to make international phone calls. I mean really, wtf! So now it's just a wing and a prayer really, hoping everything gets in by next Friday. Before then I still have to write the smaller advertorials, do the diary, the stockist list and organise the pagination. AND I STILL HAVENT EVEN LOOKED AT WHAT NEEDS TO BE DONE FOR THE OTHER MAGAZINE.
Aaaaah. Breathe. Sorry, I needed the caps.
Anyway, I guess I'm just going to have to put in a lot of extra hours until I cover this. Fuck. Oh actually, speaking of extra hours. For some odd reason they all thought I was meant to cover another chick's reception today, because she covered for me last week. I was getting really annoyed with all these emails assuming I was doing it - the only reason she covered for me while I was away was because I covered for her the week before when she had a uni conference! Bloody hell. I ended up having to sit there from 5 - 5.30 and I only technically work till 5! Bah.
So yes, we are not amused. Not at all. I'm going to watch a movie now in the hopes it'll soothe my annoyance.
Oh yes, and we have a new female PM, it was all very exciting but alas I'm already losing interest again. I really fail at this politics business.
Music: The Brothers Bloom
Mood: Annoyed
I'm mostly pissed off. They said a freelancer was going to cover my work while I wasn't there, and it didn't happen. Instead they just expected the deputy editor to cover everything and she obviously has enough of her own work to do, so nothing has happened with mine. The reps have also gone nuts in the meantime apparently, and I now have 35 advertorials to write for our "travel" section (for context, that's 20 pages, and they're actually supposed to have a limit of 15) The worst thing is that it's NZ, and I'm supposed to call up the stores to make sure I get the info by deadline but I can't cause I'm not allowed to make international phone calls. I mean really, wtf! So now it's just a wing and a prayer really, hoping everything gets in by next Friday. Before then I still have to write the smaller advertorials, do the diary, the stockist list and organise the pagination. AND I STILL HAVENT EVEN LOOKED AT WHAT NEEDS TO BE DONE FOR THE OTHER MAGAZINE.
Aaaaah. Breathe. Sorry, I needed the caps.
Anyway, I guess I'm just going to have to put in a lot of extra hours until I cover this. Fuck. Oh actually, speaking of extra hours. For some odd reason they all thought I was meant to cover another chick's reception today, because she covered for me last week. I was getting really annoyed with all these emails assuming I was doing it - the only reason she covered for me while I was away was because I covered for her the week before when she had a uni conference! Bloody hell. I ended up having to sit there from 5 - 5.30 and I only technically work till 5! Bah.
So yes, we are not amused. Not at all. I'm going to watch a movie now in the hopes it'll soothe my annoyance.
Oh yes, and we have a new female PM, it was all very exciting but alas I'm already losing interest again. I really fail at this politics business.
Music: The Brothers Bloom
Mood: Annoyed
Thursday, May 20, 2010
It's time to run
Hello from my lunch break! I am eating fruit salad and listening to Muse, cause that's just how awesome I am. The Muse actually has nothing to do with my lunch break, I'm alone in the office (which will happen a lot apparently) and have been told I can turn up the radio as loud as I want cause "no one can hear anything" - terrifying as that is when put into the context of "no one can hear you scream", I've brought trusty Beckettoo along today for mood music. I couldn't find my iPod dock though, so I'm just blaring it through the headphones. It's surprisingly effective.
Aaaaanyway. The new job is going ok. I hate myself every morning when I roll out of bed at 6am though - it is an obscene time of the morning to be awake, alright? Obscene. I wasn't meant to do this. I can pretend I live in Europe however, since it's dark when I leave the house and dark when I return. Soon, the sun will merely be this mythical object I recall from my childhood. Oh the melodrama, see it, touch it, fear it (why won't you fear my wrath?) I think I'm on top of most of the things I'm supposed to do, I just need to be shown how to update the website, link photos, and create e-tickets. What fun. This job is just PR really. I don't know if I particularly like it, but I don't hate it - so I guess I'm ambivalent at the moment. A job, after all, is a job. I think most of them are annoying and loathsome in certain aspects.
For those absolutely hanging on to know if my sanity has survived another drive into the city - the answer is yes (I know it doesn't sound that way, but please remember that I've always been a bit...off). It was much better without the torrents of rain, and a firm decision where I was to park. I wasn't late for class either, always a plus. What a funny class too - funny odd I mean. The tutor seemed to misinterpret the vibe of one of the workshops a bit and things went a bit astray. I hadn't done any of the readings though, so I sat there playing catch-up as per usual. Next week I have to workshop. Abject WOE. I do not like my story at all. I'm attempting to re-write my NaNo novel, I just can't seem to get it right. Ah well, that's what workshopping's for I suppose.
Heard on the radio this morning that some random AFL dude called Jason Akermanis (look, I don't follow AFL, there are too many people on the field, I don't know what's going on) basically said gay players should stay in the closet because it would be better for the code. Quoth said the Raven:
"Football clubs are very different environments. Locker room nudity is an everyday part of our lives and unlike any other work place.
"I believe it would cause discomfort in that environment should someone declare himself gay."
"Young people from the ages 15-24 are the main participants in organised sport in Victoria. Some of them must be gay and I hope they thoroughly enjoy their sporting lives without having to experience any form of prejudice."
"But if they are thinking of telling the world, my advice would be forget it.”
The whole thing is over here.
This struck me as odd. I mean, okay, so he's saying he'd be uncomfortable in the locker rooms or with the physical contact if someone came out, but by his own admission, there must be gay team members. At the moment, he isn't uncomfortable because he doesn't know - but that's just denial. Whatever he fears is essentially already happening, he just doesn't know about it. I am not articulating what I am trying to say very well. Put it this way, if a team member he's known for years comes out now, it shouldn't change anything because they've done the whole locker room thing for years anyway. The discomfort ship has sailed, let it go! Blah. It just seems weird to me.
He is trying to be nice about it, I suppose. Overall though it just seems like a very negative thing to be saying, and not for completely convincing reasons. They're all things that could be changed really, if anyone could be bothered. It seems kind of contradictory to say there is too much of a bias in the sport to come out, and then just perpetuate that bias with that very advice. Besides, it's not about being a "gay rights activist" as he puts it, or making "the environment safer" - it's just about allowing people to live their lives. Why should gay players have to hold back who they are, and have this facade, to live their dreams? It's a ridiculous double standard - as ridiculous as the need to have this public outing anyway. Why should they have to announce their sexuality? Can't we just let people be?
We, as a society, spend far too much time worrying about what other people are doing.
Oh, and I love the comment about women sport not having a stigma - no, that's because when you're a female golfer, cricketer, rugby or soccer player, people tend to just assume you're gay anyway. Perhaps not inside the sport, but certainly from outside. Funny how the situation inverts. In fact, maybe none of this is even about sexuality as such, but rather about gender stereotypes...or is that the same thing?
I best get back to work - I'm so happy I don't have class tonight, I get to be home early - 6.30! Woo! Look what my life has become *headdesk* I still have two essays to write as well.
I think I'll bake pancakes when get home though. Hm yes. Pancakes, blanket, my grumpy dog, and Lie to Me. Good plan.
P.S: My computer mouse is driving me mad. It's one of those old school ones with the trackball underneath that I haven't had to use extensively in a very long time. I've forgotten how annoying it can be. Stop sticking, you stupid thing! Don't make me throw you through this window - I haven't been here long enough to justify property damage!
Music: The Resistance - Muse
Mood: Working
Aaaaanyway. The new job is going ok. I hate myself every morning when I roll out of bed at 6am though - it is an obscene time of the morning to be awake, alright? Obscene. I wasn't meant to do this. I can pretend I live in Europe however, since it's dark when I leave the house and dark when I return. Soon, the sun will merely be this mythical object I recall from my childhood. Oh the melodrama, see it, touch it, fear it (why won't you fear my wrath?) I think I'm on top of most of the things I'm supposed to do, I just need to be shown how to update the website, link photos, and create e-tickets. What fun. This job is just PR really. I don't know if I particularly like it, but I don't hate it - so I guess I'm ambivalent at the moment. A job, after all, is a job. I think most of them are annoying and loathsome in certain aspects.
For those absolutely hanging on to know if my sanity has survived another drive into the city - the answer is yes (I know it doesn't sound that way, but please remember that I've always been a bit...off). It was much better without the torrents of rain, and a firm decision where I was to park. I wasn't late for class either, always a plus. What a funny class too - funny odd I mean. The tutor seemed to misinterpret the vibe of one of the workshops a bit and things went a bit astray. I hadn't done any of the readings though, so I sat there playing catch-up as per usual. Next week I have to workshop. Abject WOE. I do not like my story at all. I'm attempting to re-write my NaNo novel, I just can't seem to get it right. Ah well, that's what workshopping's for I suppose.
Heard on the radio this morning that some random AFL dude called Jason Akermanis (look, I don't follow AFL, there are too many people on the field, I don't know what's going on) basically said gay players should stay in the closet because it would be better for the code. Quoth said the Raven:
"Football clubs are very different environments. Locker room nudity is an everyday part of our lives and unlike any other work place.
"I believe it would cause discomfort in that environment should someone declare himself gay."
"Young people from the ages 15-24 are the main participants in organised sport in Victoria. Some of them must be gay and I hope they thoroughly enjoy their sporting lives without having to experience any form of prejudice."
"But if they are thinking of telling the world, my advice would be forget it.”
The whole thing is over here.
This struck me as odd. I mean, okay, so he's saying he'd be uncomfortable in the locker rooms or with the physical contact if someone came out, but by his own admission, there must be gay team members. At the moment, he isn't uncomfortable because he doesn't know - but that's just denial. Whatever he fears is essentially already happening, he just doesn't know about it. I am not articulating what I am trying to say very well. Put it this way, if a team member he's known for years comes out now, it shouldn't change anything because they've done the whole locker room thing for years anyway. The discomfort ship has sailed, let it go! Blah. It just seems weird to me.
He is trying to be nice about it, I suppose. Overall though it just seems like a very negative thing to be saying, and not for completely convincing reasons. They're all things that could be changed really, if anyone could be bothered. It seems kind of contradictory to say there is too much of a bias in the sport to come out, and then just perpetuate that bias with that very advice. Besides, it's not about being a "gay rights activist" as he puts it, or making "the environment safer" - it's just about allowing people to live their lives. Why should gay players have to hold back who they are, and have this facade, to live their dreams? It's a ridiculous double standard - as ridiculous as the need to have this public outing anyway. Why should they have to announce their sexuality? Can't we just let people be?
We, as a society, spend far too much time worrying about what other people are doing.
Oh, and I love the comment about women sport not having a stigma - no, that's because when you're a female golfer, cricketer, rugby or soccer player, people tend to just assume you're gay anyway. Perhaps not inside the sport, but certainly from outside. Funny how the situation inverts. In fact, maybe none of this is even about sexuality as such, but rather about gender stereotypes...or is that the same thing?
I best get back to work - I'm so happy I don't have class tonight, I get to be home early - 6.30! Woo! Look what my life has become *headdesk* I still have two essays to write as well.
I think I'll bake pancakes when get home though. Hm yes. Pancakes, blanket, my grumpy dog, and Lie to Me. Good plan.
P.S: My computer mouse is driving me mad. It's one of those old school ones with the trackball underneath that I haven't had to use extensively in a very long time. I've forgotten how annoying it can be. Stop sticking, you stupid thing! Don't make me throw you through this window - I haven't been here long enough to justify property damage!
Music: The Resistance - Muse
Mood: Working
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
In which Traffic becomes my Nemesis
First thing, thanks for all the good luck wishes (even though I asked for them). You are all so very sweet!
Secondly, what is up with the latest Christina Aguilera song? Now that I'm driving in peak hours and actually listening to popular radio, I would like to take this moment to say....aaaaaaagh. Why can't they just pick a style and stick to it, instead of constantly "re-inventing" themselves to sound like whatever is popular...which at the moment is Lady Gaga. And I don't think it really work for Christina to be honest. Also to local band Amy Meredith, they were called Panic! At The Disco and they did it four years ago - and better too.
Ahem. Moving on.
I have survived two days as one of the working masses. I can't say it's exactly inspirational. I don't rightly know if I like the job or not, I'm still too busy trying to figure out what is actually happening. I have been quite productive though - I think so anyway - and I have managed to get my account set up and all the files I need transferred, so hopefully this means I will be able to be a functioning team member. I work in an office surveying the warehouse with one other person, the deputy editor (though there are desks for about four others). The entire space is covered in magazines and packaging material. I'm going to be in there alone a lot of the time, as the deputy editor goes out on shoots and such. Which is, frankly, the way I prefer it. The rest of the section I'm in is populated by girls, mostly around my age - I noticed one lone guy today, I could practically see his will to live draining as one of the others kept going on about training and calories. I exaggerate. Everyone is super friendly, always a plus. So yes, on we plod.
I had the horrendous experience of driving in for uni today - thought I'd have a brain aneurysm
before I got there. It was dark with rain absolutely bucketing down so I could barely see, I had no idea where I was going, my GPS was being woefully ineffective in the CBD environment, and when I eventually fought my way through 40 minutes of traffic and got to the parking area I had chosen previously, it was closed. At this point, killing myself really seemed like the least painful option. I deserve a medal for persevering, trudging back through the traffic to a parking garage that would charge me almost double, but which was closer to my class so I only got mostly wet walking to it. I was miserable by the time I got there, let me tell you. It was of course whimsical and philosophical as always, which is great, you know, except that it feels like you're covering the same ground again and again to little effect. Sigh.
At least there was hot chocolate when I got home. That goes a long way to restoring the will to live of this slightly damp, headache inflicted, mildly stressed individual. Now press repeat.
Music: NCIS LA
Mood: Headache
Secondly, what is up with the latest Christina Aguilera song? Now that I'm driving in peak hours and actually listening to popular radio, I would like to take this moment to say....aaaaaaagh. Why can't they just pick a style and stick to it, instead of constantly "re-inventing" themselves to sound like whatever is popular...which at the moment is Lady Gaga. And I don't think it really work for Christina to be honest. Also to local band Amy Meredith, they were called Panic! At The Disco and they did it four years ago - and better too.
Ahem. Moving on.
I have survived two days as one of the working masses. I can't say it's exactly inspirational. I don't rightly know if I like the job or not, I'm still too busy trying to figure out what is actually happening. I have been quite productive though - I think so anyway - and I have managed to get my account set up and all the files I need transferred, so hopefully this means I will be able to be a functioning team member. I work in an office surveying the warehouse with one other person, the deputy editor (though there are desks for about four others). The entire space is covered in magazines and packaging material. I'm going to be in there alone a lot of the time, as the deputy editor goes out on shoots and such. Which is, frankly, the way I prefer it. The rest of the section I'm in is populated by girls, mostly around my age - I noticed one lone guy today, I could practically see his will to live draining as one of the others kept going on about training and calories. I exaggerate. Everyone is super friendly, always a plus. So yes, on we plod.
I had the horrendous experience of driving in for uni today - thought I'd have a brain aneurysm
before I got there. It was dark with rain absolutely bucketing down so I could barely see, I had no idea where I was going, my GPS was being woefully ineffective in the CBD environment, and when I eventually fought my way through 40 minutes of traffic and got to the parking area I had chosen previously, it was closed. At this point, killing myself really seemed like the least painful option. I deserve a medal for persevering, trudging back through the traffic to a parking garage that would charge me almost double, but which was closer to my class so I only got mostly wet walking to it. I was miserable by the time I got there, let me tell you. It was of course whimsical and philosophical as always, which is great, you know, except that it feels like you're covering the same ground again and again to little effect. Sigh.
At least there was hot chocolate when I got home. That goes a long way to restoring the will to live of this slightly damp, headache inflicted, mildly stressed individual. Now press repeat.
Music: NCIS LA
Mood: Headache
Thursday, April 8, 2010
It's a minefield out there
Read this on the train home last night -
I actually composed a different blog on the country the other day that I never got round to posting and now it just seems mistimed in the wake of the murder, but essentially I feel my argument remains apt. People in South Africa live in denial, and the international world does not see anything beyond the word 'apartheid'. They'll say 'Oh, it's apartheid's fault that things are like that there', and that is, in my opinion, a big part of the problem. People in power hear it and go "You see, it's apartheid's fault, you fix it!" and people from the old regime (for lack of a better term) go "The hell it is! You wouldn't listen to us, you fix it!" and in the end no one fixes anything.
There is no doubt that 'apartheid' left a huge scar on the country, but there's only so far you can push something before accountability has to be taken - accountability for the now. It's easy to blame everything on the past, but it's not necessarily the right thing to do. The whole supposed reconciliation process was atrociously handled and, well, I don't actually want to get into it. I hate politics. I hate it, because I grew up in this climate. It's such a layered field to dive into. Besides I don't really like getting involved because the minute you voice any sort of opinion you, as a white (ex-pat) South African, are automatically labelled as racist. This makes me so angry, you have no idea. I loathe labels and boxes of any kind, so saying that I am judgemental in any way or form is a huge slap in the face. Plus, there seems to be a general idea in society that racism is some sort of one-way street, something only white people are capable of. This bugs me. Surely any minority can be discriminated against, I think it pays to remember that. There might be a case for saying that without an oppressed colonial dialogue, perhaps white people don't take to it as harshly (or perhaps it should be argued that attributing racism to something as broad as simple skin colour drastically oversimplifies something when you have clan disputes, religious genocide, and um, the Irish.) I think it applies to everyone, and if you are the minority in any situation, chances are you will experience it.
I wouldn't care about any of this - I have no investment in the country itself and if it wasn't for the wildlife and my family, I'd happily never set foot there again. As it stands though, I do have family there. Not only that, I have family in rural areas - and they are quite painfully racist even if they don't think they are - but they're still my family, regardless of how much they irk me. So of course situations such as this causes some concern for them. Mostly I worry about the effect this has on my parents. I like to say that it's not our problem anymore (What does it say on my passport, hmm?) but as long as you have blood there, I guess it's always sort of your problem. On our February trip, I could see how much it was hurting my mother, and that killed me. She loves the stupid country, she has all these idyllic memories and always thought it beautiful and unique, and I can only imagine how hard it must be to see it decline so spectacularly with every trip. But there's nothing I can do. Indeed, there doesn't seem to be anything anyone can do because it doesn't look like they want to do anything. There's only resignation, which in itself is quite sad.
Of course, on the back of all the social issues, there is the upcoming World Cup! Call me pessimistic, but I don't have high hopes. Hm.
Anyway, enough! I hate this topic.
As a side note:
* I resent that statement. 'Die Stem' or 'Call of South Africa' was originally a poem written in 1918 and set to music in 1921, it was widely used alongside 'God Save The King', the official anthem until the late 50s. It thus predates apartheid by twenty seven years and just because it was used as the national anthem during that time is no reason to sort of lump it in there as an 'apartheid' song. I think people don't realise that historically, white people in SA feel just as victimised and taken advantage of as many black people. There is a long history of colonial resistance and anti-British sentiment, and they probably viewed apartheid as just another fight that they had to have in order to maintain the land others sought to usurp (The cream on top of this dysfunctional sundae to me has always been that the old government had mandatory military service and sent young men to fight in the border conflict. Those young men are now middle-aged and find themselves in a country run, for all intents and purposes, by the very enemy they were trained to hate. Friends died in that war, it's not unbelievable to find that they harbour extreme resentment now, and feel betrayed and abandoned by their country - they were brainwashed, they lost the war, and they're resisting from within.) It's unfortunate, even more unfortunate that they originally drew on colonial policy making left over from British rule, and no doubt it could and should have been handled better back then, and in the same breath, it should be handled better now. Can't people stop fussing over what was and instead pay attention to what is actually happening around them? Because to me, as an intermittent and reluctant visitor, it seems very much like everything is going to hell.
Music: Seven minutes in heaven - Fall Out Boy
Mood: Contemplative
I get this hideous feeling that everything is about to implode. I always thought Eugene Terreblanche was a bit of a dick and he probably had this coming, and when I first heard about it, this was exactly what I said. But of course, it is never that simple, and even people I distinctly recall mocking said nutter are now all twitchy about it. The problem, I feel, is that it's one of those catalyst events as it came so soon after the Julius Malema drama and has automatically been placed within that context - so now it's a case of 'They're going to kill us all, this is what happened in Zimbabwe!' as opposed to 'Terreblanche was a bit of a dick and probably had it coming.' (Okay that sounded a bit callous so I feel I should clarify that I simply mean I don't think he was killed simply because he was white, and more because, well, he was a dick. The official reason is that he hadn't paid his workers since December, but I bet he was a tyrannical boss at best and was probably dismissive and/or insulting when they tried to talk to him about it. Not that it justifies murder, but I just mean he wasn't exactly an 'innocent.'Also it absolutely terrifies me that on the back of this incident people will somehow think the man had been right all along and thus join his cause thereby making him some sort of martyr. He really was an idiot, and I have always blamed his entire party for perpetuating a stereotypical image of white South Africans in the same way the KKK did of the South.) Things are so volatile over there, I fear if it keeps up, it could descend into Zimbabwe 2.0 as a direct result of people's inability to stop blaming each other.Racial tensions surged in South Africa, where blacks and whites faced off at a courthouse as two farmworkers were charged with killing a white supremacist leader.
The workers, aged 15 and 28, confessed to killing Eugene Terreblanche over a wage dispute in the town of Ventersdorp.
As the older of the two suspects walked out of the courthouse hundereds of blacks screamed their support. "We are celebrating the death of the man who has abused us so much," one woman in the crowd shouted.
The murder of Terreblanche, once convicted of eating a black farm worker so badly he was left brain damaged, has focused attention on simmering racial tensions less than 10 weeks before South Africa hosts the World Cup.
Earlier yesterday, police rushed to separate nearly 2000 people split into white and black groups after a middle-aged white woman sprayed an energy drink on blacks singing the Zulu chorus of the country's national anthem. Whites earlier had been singing the parts of the national anthem that are Afrikaans and date to the apartheid era.*
I actually composed a different blog on the country the other day that I never got round to posting and now it just seems mistimed in the wake of the murder, but essentially I feel my argument remains apt. People in South Africa live in denial, and the international world does not see anything beyond the word 'apartheid'. They'll say 'Oh, it's apartheid's fault that things are like that there', and that is, in my opinion, a big part of the problem. People in power hear it and go "You see, it's apartheid's fault, you fix it!" and people from the old regime (for lack of a better term) go "The hell it is! You wouldn't listen to us, you fix it!" and in the end no one fixes anything.
There is no doubt that 'apartheid' left a huge scar on the country, but there's only so far you can push something before accountability has to be taken - accountability for the now. It's easy to blame everything on the past, but it's not necessarily the right thing to do. The whole supposed reconciliation process was atrociously handled and, well, I don't actually want to get into it. I hate politics. I hate it, because I grew up in this climate. It's such a layered field to dive into. Besides I don't really like getting involved because the minute you voice any sort of opinion you, as a white (ex-pat) South African, are automatically labelled as racist. This makes me so angry, you have no idea. I loathe labels and boxes of any kind, so saying that I am judgemental in any way or form is a huge slap in the face. Plus, there seems to be a general idea in society that racism is some sort of one-way street, something only white people are capable of. This bugs me. Surely any minority can be discriminated against, I think it pays to remember that. There might be a case for saying that without an oppressed colonial dialogue, perhaps white people don't take to it as harshly (or perhaps it should be argued that attributing racism to something as broad as simple skin colour drastically oversimplifies something when you have clan disputes, religious genocide, and um, the Irish.) I think it applies to everyone, and if you are the minority in any situation, chances are you will experience it.
I wouldn't care about any of this - I have no investment in the country itself and if it wasn't for the wildlife and my family, I'd happily never set foot there again. As it stands though, I do have family there. Not only that, I have family in rural areas - and they are quite painfully racist even if they don't think they are - but they're still my family, regardless of how much they irk me. So of course situations such as this causes some concern for them. Mostly I worry about the effect this has on my parents. I like to say that it's not our problem anymore (What does it say on my passport, hmm?) but as long as you have blood there, I guess it's always sort of your problem. On our February trip, I could see how much it was hurting my mother, and that killed me. She loves the stupid country, she has all these idyllic memories and always thought it beautiful and unique, and I can only imagine how hard it must be to see it decline so spectacularly with every trip. But there's nothing I can do. Indeed, there doesn't seem to be anything anyone can do because it doesn't look like they want to do anything. There's only resignation, which in itself is quite sad.
Of course, on the back of all the social issues, there is the upcoming World Cup! Call me pessimistic, but I don't have high hopes. Hm.
Anyway, enough! I hate this topic.
As a side note:
* I resent that statement. 'Die Stem' or 'Call of South Africa' was originally a poem written in 1918 and set to music in 1921, it was widely used alongside 'God Save The King', the official anthem until the late 50s. It thus predates apartheid by twenty seven years and just because it was used as the national anthem during that time is no reason to sort of lump it in there as an 'apartheid' song. I think people don't realise that historically, white people in SA feel just as victimised and taken advantage of as many black people. There is a long history of colonial resistance and anti-British sentiment, and they probably viewed apartheid as just another fight that they had to have in order to maintain the land others sought to usurp (The cream on top of this dysfunctional sundae to me has always been that the old government had mandatory military service and sent young men to fight in the border conflict. Those young men are now middle-aged and find themselves in a country run, for all intents and purposes, by the very enemy they were trained to hate. Friends died in that war, it's not unbelievable to find that they harbour extreme resentment now, and feel betrayed and abandoned by their country - they were brainwashed, they lost the war, and they're resisting from within.) It's unfortunate, even more unfortunate that they originally drew on colonial policy making left over from British rule, and no doubt it could and should have been handled better back then, and in the same breath, it should be handled better now. Can't people stop fussing over what was and instead pay attention to what is actually happening around them? Because to me, as an intermittent and reluctant visitor, it seems very much like everything is going to hell.
Music: Seven minutes in heaven - Fall Out Boy
Mood: Contemplative
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
You people and your quaint little categories.
I love that my dad somehow thinks it’s unhealthy for a kid to be raised in a same-sex relationship because it “screws them up” when every single day we are surrounded by supposed conventional families who have completely screwed up their kids. It is my belief that every single family is in some way dysfunctional, and every single parent fucks up their kid in some way or another. I sincerely doubt whether you have two mums or two dads is in anyway going to “screw you up” any more than any other family. Right now we’re watching ‘Two and a half men’ and I’m thinking how fucked up they are as a family, and yet here he sits and presumably thinks a gay couple would be a more detrimental influence on their kids than Charlie’s parents evidently were? Uh yeah okay dad.
It makes me angry that I even have to argue this point with him, and with other people, because you know this is the 21st century for crying out loud, and I would have hoped we were beyond such idiocy. See, my problem is I often forget that it is still a problem because I frequent a world where no one so much as bats an eyelid. This means there’s nothing I have come to loathe more than labels and boxes, and it’s fine in my self-contained world but out there in real life, even amongst my friends, things are said that raise my hackles. It’s the subtle labelling, and the barely veiled discomfiture that settles tension in my shoulders and mostly I let it go because what right have I to interfere with the opinions of others when I so vehemently insist everyone is entitled to their own, and besides, it’s not my fight really. That’s just cowardice though because it is, in a way, and moreover I’ve made it my fight by becoming far too used to a discourse that is so blissfully free of societal constraints and expectations, and utterly devoid of judgement, that entering into the “real world” is often jarring and utterly outrageous. Sometimes I just can’t believe the things that go down, the way people seem to think it’s perfectly fine to judge and box and label individuals they have absolutely no knowledge of. I hate it; I absolutely hate it when people do that.
Maybe this peeve is entirely personal because I make a terrible first impression. People hardly ever have an impression that’s even remotely accurate to the person I am. This is mostly because of the AvPD, and general consensus has always been that I am a cold, stuck-up bitch who thinks she’s better than everyone else. This is what comes from sitting in corners reading and never speaking to anyone. The thing is though I am nothing like that – well okay I am a bit of a bitch but only when I’ve been pushed to my limit, and hey, aren’t we all? But if anyone actually made the effort to talk to me, to get to know me, they’d realise I’m not that bad at all...and you could say that I should make the effort and speak to other people but then I’m not the one drawing conclusions, and I am the one with the “issues." It’s not about making friends or any such nonsense though, this is merely about preconceived notions, and it is not my responsibility to go about making sure people have the “right” idea about me. They shouldn’t be drawing conclusions and making judgements without facts, and that is the point.
I feel like here I have to classify that I realise when you’re different, being scrutinised is unavoidable and this isn’t what essentially bothers me. I don’t mind being gawked at like a freak, what I do mind is people telling me how to live my life. By all means gawk, but don’t ever presume you have the right to judge me for it. All of us are different; some of us have the courage to acknowledge that, none of us have the right to force another person into a particular way of life. This can be anything, from someone's preference in music and art, to their sexuality, or religious preferences. Whatever that person is, whatever they like or believe or want, that is entirely their business. I have gotten so blasé about other people’s preferences, something in no small part due to the TW fandom, that I often worry that in my ever increasing frustration at others’ closed minds, I myself am becoming more judgemental. I mean if I’m judging others for judging, am I not just as bad?
Music: Future freaks me out - Motion City Soundtrack
Mood: Annoyed
It makes me angry that I even have to argue this point with him, and with other people, because you know this is the 21st century for crying out loud, and I would have hoped we were beyond such idiocy. See, my problem is I often forget that it is still a problem because I frequent a world where no one so much as bats an eyelid. This means there’s nothing I have come to loathe more than labels and boxes, and it’s fine in my self-contained world but out there in real life, even amongst my friends, things are said that raise my hackles. It’s the subtle labelling, and the barely veiled discomfiture that settles tension in my shoulders and mostly I let it go because what right have I to interfere with the opinions of others when I so vehemently insist everyone is entitled to their own, and besides, it’s not my fight really. That’s just cowardice though because it is, in a way, and moreover I’ve made it my fight by becoming far too used to a discourse that is so blissfully free of societal constraints and expectations, and utterly devoid of judgement, that entering into the “real world” is often jarring and utterly outrageous. Sometimes I just can’t believe the things that go down, the way people seem to think it’s perfectly fine to judge and box and label individuals they have absolutely no knowledge of. I hate it; I absolutely hate it when people do that.
Maybe this peeve is entirely personal because I make a terrible first impression. People hardly ever have an impression that’s even remotely accurate to the person I am. This is mostly because of the AvPD, and general consensus has always been that I am a cold, stuck-up bitch who thinks she’s better than everyone else. This is what comes from sitting in corners reading and never speaking to anyone. The thing is though I am nothing like that – well okay I am a bit of a bitch but only when I’ve been pushed to my limit, and hey, aren’t we all? But if anyone actually made the effort to talk to me, to get to know me, they’d realise I’m not that bad at all...and you could say that I should make the effort and speak to other people but then I’m not the one drawing conclusions, and I am the one with the “issues." It’s not about making friends or any such nonsense though, this is merely about preconceived notions, and it is not my responsibility to go about making sure people have the “right” idea about me. They shouldn’t be drawing conclusions and making judgements without facts, and that is the point.
I feel like here I have to classify that I realise when you’re different, being scrutinised is unavoidable and this isn’t what essentially bothers me. I don’t mind being gawked at like a freak, what I do mind is people telling me how to live my life. By all means gawk, but don’t ever presume you have the right to judge me for it. All of us are different; some of us have the courage to acknowledge that, none of us have the right to force another person into a particular way of life. This can be anything, from someone's preference in music and art, to their sexuality, or religious preferences. Whatever that person is, whatever they like or believe or want, that is entirely their business. I have gotten so blasé about other people’s preferences, something in no small part due to the TW fandom, that I often worry that in my ever increasing frustration at others’ closed minds, I myself am becoming more judgemental. I mean if I’m judging others for judging, am I not just as bad?
Music: Future freaks me out - Motion City Soundtrack
Mood: Annoyed
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
If it didn't matter, you wouldn't have brought it up
Movie ramble time -
Jim Sturgess is apparently starring in a sci-fi film, huzzah.
'Adam is a seemingly ordinary guy in a very extraordinary universe. He lives humbly trying to make ends meet, but his romantic spirit holds on to the memory of a girl he met once upon a time from another world, an inverted affluent world with its own gravity, directed from above but beyond reach... a girl named Eve. Their childhood flirtation becomes an impossible love. But when he catches a glimpse of grown-up Eve on television, nothing will get in the way of getting her back... Not even the law of science.'
Kirsten Dunst is starring opposite and I'm not really a big fan of hers but...Jim Sturgess! Sci-fi! I'll give it a shot.
I also saw a post about 'Invictus'. While it's true that I've been relatively ambivalent towards rugby until 2003, I'm still fairly sure that describing the Springboks as "the country's ailing team" prior to the 1995 world cup is a bit narrow-minded considering that there was no real way to compare the team to anyone else thanks to a wonderful thing called international sanctions. So you know, ailing is pushing it. Plus, "they're a ragtag team with little chance of winning made up largely of the old-school, Afrikaan mentality." Uh, okay? I'm fairly sure they were never the rag-tag underdogs. I mean this makes it sound like Cool Runnings! And were they really "generally despised, championed only by the country's whites"? I was only eight at the time, so I have no idea. I remember picking dad up from Ellis Park one night, and sitting in the living room wishing my extended family weren't all mad, but the general societal climate escapes me. I just never considered the Springboks to be much of a "Cinderella story" team, they've always been considered good. Regardless, I think it's very weird to write a movie about it. Let alone one directed by Clint Eastwood and starring Matt Damon and Morgan Freeman. Serious WTFBBQ.
To be honest, this sounds like the kind of story that makes me want to break something. It operates on general assumptions and preconceived attitudes while having no real idea of the situation. It's actually not so much the stories themselves as the underlying motivations and the debates consequently inspired by them. I am too young to have any real weight in the apartheid legacy, but I grew up during the time everything changed, and I was, and still am, subjected to all the bullshit that goes with being a white afrikaans speaking South African. To which I will go out to the world and say fuck you, okay? I am tired of having to put up with bullshit political things that happened before I was born and yet somehow are left for my generation to deal with. I thus have absolutely no interest in watching or engaging in anything with such overt political connotations and assumptions as I feel like I have spent my entire life being flogged with it. I will not apologize for things that I had no hand in, and I certainly refuse to be guilt-tripped into an expected position. Am I supposed to take my position as a repressed minority now to make up for things that happened in the past? Whatever. It's the same thing here with the stolen generation. Yes, it's terrible that it happened. But I didn't do it, and neither did anyone in my generation. So what, pray tell, do you want from us? The government and society have acknowledged that it was wrong, and have moved to rectify and compensate where they can. I recommend we build a bridge and get over it. And I know what people will say, that I wasn't the injured party so it's easy for me to say that. Well, maybe, but if you keep harbouring a grudge, you never heal do you? I mean, for fuck's sake, am I supposed to start fights with Catholics since my grandfather was Irish and Protestant?
Bah. Politics. I hate you.
As a final point on Invictus, I can guarantee my mum and her family will loathe it with a fiery passion since they are a very strong, influential rugby family. My father will hate it because he will yet again be reminded of the money he lost betting on the All Blacks and he has always harboured an extremely strong dislike for Francois Pienaar for reasons I can no longer remember. So if this movie ever gets a lot of press, I look forward to listening to continuous bitching on the topic.
To conclude the movie ramble, I can't believe they're doing a film on the creators of Facebook. That just sounds dull to me.
Films I am actually interested in seeing:
An Education
Moon
A single man
Nine
Paper Heart
Bright Star
Death in love
Somers Town
The Informant!
Ondine
Music: NCIS LA
Mood: Relaxed
Jim Sturgess is apparently starring in a sci-fi film, huzzah.
'Adam is a seemingly ordinary guy in a very extraordinary universe. He lives humbly trying to make ends meet, but his romantic spirit holds on to the memory of a girl he met once upon a time from another world, an inverted affluent world with its own gravity, directed from above but beyond reach... a girl named Eve. Their childhood flirtation becomes an impossible love. But when he catches a glimpse of grown-up Eve on television, nothing will get in the way of getting her back... Not even the law of science.'
Kirsten Dunst is starring opposite and I'm not really a big fan of hers but...Jim Sturgess! Sci-fi! I'll give it a shot.
I also saw a post about 'Invictus'. While it's true that I've been relatively ambivalent towards rugby until 2003, I'm still fairly sure that describing the Springboks as "the country's ailing team" prior to the 1995 world cup is a bit narrow-minded considering that there was no real way to compare the team to anyone else thanks to a wonderful thing called international sanctions. So you know, ailing is pushing it. Plus, "they're a ragtag team with little chance of winning made up largely of the old-school, Afrikaan mentality." Uh, okay? I'm fairly sure they were never the rag-tag underdogs. I mean this makes it sound like Cool Runnings! And were they really "generally despised, championed only by the country's whites"? I was only eight at the time, so I have no idea. I remember picking dad up from Ellis Park one night, and sitting in the living room wishing my extended family weren't all mad, but the general societal climate escapes me. I just never considered the Springboks to be much of a "Cinderella story" team, they've always been considered good. Regardless, I think it's very weird to write a movie about it. Let alone one directed by Clint Eastwood and starring Matt Damon and Morgan Freeman. Serious WTFBBQ.
To be honest, this sounds like the kind of story that makes me want to break something. It operates on general assumptions and preconceived attitudes while having no real idea of the situation. It's actually not so much the stories themselves as the underlying motivations and the debates consequently inspired by them. I am too young to have any real weight in the apartheid legacy, but I grew up during the time everything changed, and I was, and still am, subjected to all the bullshit that goes with being a white afrikaans speaking South African. To which I will go out to the world and say fuck you, okay? I am tired of having to put up with bullshit political things that happened before I was born and yet somehow are left for my generation to deal with. I thus have absolutely no interest in watching or engaging in anything with such overt political connotations and assumptions as I feel like I have spent my entire life being flogged with it. I will not apologize for things that I had no hand in, and I certainly refuse to be guilt-tripped into an expected position. Am I supposed to take my position as a repressed minority now to make up for things that happened in the past? Whatever. It's the same thing here with the stolen generation. Yes, it's terrible that it happened. But I didn't do it, and neither did anyone in my generation. So what, pray tell, do you want from us? The government and society have acknowledged that it was wrong, and have moved to rectify and compensate where they can. I recommend we build a bridge and get over it. And I know what people will say, that I wasn't the injured party so it's easy for me to say that. Well, maybe, but if you keep harbouring a grudge, you never heal do you? I mean, for fuck's sake, am I supposed to start fights with Catholics since my grandfather was Irish and Protestant?
Bah. Politics. I hate you.
As a final point on Invictus, I can guarantee my mum and her family will loathe it with a fiery passion since they are a very strong, influential rugby family. My father will hate it because he will yet again be reminded of the money he lost betting on the All Blacks and he has always harboured an extremely strong dislike for Francois Pienaar for reasons I can no longer remember. So if this movie ever gets a lot of press, I look forward to listening to continuous bitching on the topic.
To conclude the movie ramble, I can't believe they're doing a film on the creators of Facebook. That just sounds dull to me.
Films I am actually interested in seeing:
An Education
Moon
A single man
Nine
Paper Heart
Bright Star
Death in love
Somers Town
The Informant!
Ondine
Music: NCIS LA
Mood: Relaxed
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
All you can do is just wait by the moon
I write to you from the quagmire of tertiary institutional bureaucracy, and boy, is it a grim, soul-sucking place to be. I have returned from my university's postgraduate information evening where I lodged my application. Let's just pause and reflect on that itself - I had to submit a personal statement, a CV, an outline of my writing experience, and an example of my creative work. Thirty three pages later, I have to fill in four pages worth of application forms and then the guy at the student centre asks where my academic transcript is. Yes, because there isn't enough paper there for you. Anyway, long story short, turns out UTS don't actually offer commonwealth supported places for their communications postgraduate degrees. So I'd have to pay upfront....now I worked it out earlier, it comes down to little over $15,000. I'm not adverse to getting a bank loan for this, but it grates me that I should have to when other institutions are offering fully support places, as well as the option of government loans. Oh UTS, you're hurting my soul.
Thing is, I know I complain about UTS, but I actually really like my university. I like the casual, laid-back teaching style. Especially now that I am no longer an undergrad, it feels a lot more like a mutual exchange, like you are actually participating and there is none of that traditional lecturer/student roles. Then again, what do I know, it might be like that everywhere. The only problem with UTS is its inability to manage information, communicate with each other, or seemingly be organised in any way. Again, I'm sure this is a fault of all big tertiary institutes. I'm comfortable at UTS, I know what to expect and what is in turn expected of me. Also, I prefer the Master degree they're offering to the others, for one it is better paced as it stretches out an extra semester that the others don't cover. None of that changes the fact that I will have to give precedence to any other offer I receive simply because I am a destitute student who doesn't have that kind of cash sitting around. [And that's my travel saving money!]
It's just frustrating because I thought I had everything planned out. Finish Honours, do 1.5 year Master degree, spend latter part of second year overseas, settle into a decent relevant occupation. Now I'm all over the place. I hate being all over the place. See, my intention was to go overseas regardless of whether I was accepted for exchange or not, since that second year has a semester free. Now however, it's only one year, which I estimate finishes at the end of November. I can still go overseas of course, but it would be an awkward time (no one except retail hires of Christmas, and I have absolutely no retail experience). I wouldn't be able to stay as long as I liked since I effectively have half the saving time I originally anticipated. I know I could wait and go the same time I originally wanted to, but that would mean a year of basically doing nothing other than working at the Doctors and I'm sorry but I'm not the kind of person who can spend a year doing nothing. I'd go absolutely mad in a dead-end job, even if it is for saving purposes. Uni breaks up my life. I need it to keep me sane until I find a full-time position. So yes, little complications. Again, the only conclusion I can draw from this experience is simply to never plan anything. It's a lot less headache-inducing.
But I digress, I'm just giving myself unnecessary stress. I have a small forest worth of paperwork to peruse over hot chocolate and then I intend to pass out somewhere warm. It's been quite chilly at night recently.
Tomorrow, the library. Next week, the world! Wait, what?
Music: Here's looking at you kid - The Gaslight Anthem
Mood: Frustrated
Thing is, I know I complain about UTS, but I actually really like my university. I like the casual, laid-back teaching style. Especially now that I am no longer an undergrad, it feels a lot more like a mutual exchange, like you are actually participating and there is none of that traditional lecturer/student roles. Then again, what do I know, it might be like that everywhere. The only problem with UTS is its inability to manage information, communicate with each other, or seemingly be organised in any way. Again, I'm sure this is a fault of all big tertiary institutes. I'm comfortable at UTS, I know what to expect and what is in turn expected of me. Also, I prefer the Master degree they're offering to the others, for one it is better paced as it stretches out an extra semester that the others don't cover. None of that changes the fact that I will have to give precedence to any other offer I receive simply because I am a destitute student who doesn't have that kind of cash sitting around. [And that's my travel saving money!]
It's just frustrating because I thought I had everything planned out. Finish Honours, do 1.5 year Master degree, spend latter part of second year overseas, settle into a decent relevant occupation. Now I'm all over the place. I hate being all over the place. See, my intention was to go overseas regardless of whether I was accepted for exchange or not, since that second year has a semester free. Now however, it's only one year, which I estimate finishes at the end of November. I can still go overseas of course, but it would be an awkward time (no one except retail hires of Christmas, and I have absolutely no retail experience). I wouldn't be able to stay as long as I liked since I effectively have half the saving time I originally anticipated. I know I could wait and go the same time I originally wanted to, but that would mean a year of basically doing nothing other than working at the Doctors and I'm sorry but I'm not the kind of person who can spend a year doing nothing. I'd go absolutely mad in a dead-end job, even if it is for saving purposes. Uni breaks up my life. I need it to keep me sane until I find a full-time position. So yes, little complications. Again, the only conclusion I can draw from this experience is simply to never plan anything. It's a lot less headache-inducing.
But I digress, I'm just giving myself unnecessary stress. I have a small forest worth of paperwork to peruse over hot chocolate and then I intend to pass out somewhere warm. It's been quite chilly at night recently.
Tomorrow, the library. Next week, the world! Wait, what?
Music: Here's looking at you kid - The Gaslight Anthem
Mood: Frustrated
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Rule number 1: Not everything is about you
A blog in which I:
- rant about things seen in the paper
- outline the things I wish to attend
- yet again lament the revoking of my Idol blogging rights
First things first, Caster Semenya. Could they have made more of a mess out of this situation? To be honest I have no idea how the Athletics Federation are going to handle it but I hope they give it due thought and consideration, and that it doesn't just become some sort of running joke. I can appreciate the complication of the situation but at the same time it hardly seems fair that she should be penalized for merely being herself. That identity may not be one that is conventionally laid down by society, but who are they rule on what is normal or what is conventional? If a person identifies in a certain way, that should be a valid expression regardless of supposed norms. The way the article in the Sunday Telegraph started today summed up the whole messed up situation and really set my teeth on edge. It reads: "It was simple enough for [her] rivals at the recent world championships in Berlin. As far as they were concerned, she looked like a man and ran like a man. She was a cheat, and should be barred." But she identifies as female. What would they have her do, compete with the men where she would no doubt feel extremely uncomfortable? Or not run at all, despite the fact that she has a talent and passion for the sport. Should she just fade into the background, someone no one talks about? She has an unfair advantage competing with the women, but she wouldn't exactly fit in with the men either. Her genetic make-up means she doesn't fit the nice boxes society have drawn up in the past and yet, considering that she is not the only one to defy such characterisation, no one ever asks whether modes classification are perhaps the issue here.
Society insists on forcing people to define themselves and place themselves within neat boundaries as ruled down eons ago but whatever person decided to be the voice of reason on the matter of general expectations. Yet we are constantly told that every person is unique. So, the general consensus seems to be it's fine to be unique and different as long as it falls within the parameters of what we're comfortable with. It's archaic. I realise there aren't any easy answers here, I'm not stupid, I just think this whole situation has not been handled very well. I also just wish people weren't so hung up on sticking neat little tags on everything. How bad is this for her, she thinks she's following her dream to compete at an international level and then wins which is no doubt a happy moment for her, only to be dragged into this huge public scene. I noted somewhere that they're blaming the South African Authorities for not picking up on this but clearly these people have no idea what it's like over there. Granted I haven't lived in the country for a while, but I've often found a disturbing ignorance when it comes to certain things. Beyond that, it's been my unfortunate luck to find myself in situations where people can be oppressively misinformed and narrow-minded. I wouldn't want to make a sweeping generalisation about the country, but I am perfectly comfortable in stating its bureaucratic bodies to be ineffectual and incompetent at best. So I have nothing for sympathy for Caster Semenya who has been failed on so many levels and has been forced to go through all this in public. All at 18 years of age. It's madness.
Next up, things I wish to attend. Well, A streetcar named desire at the Sydney Theatre Company mostly. Aaaand I just realised its booked out. Dammit! It's gotten such stellar reviews too. Cate Blanchett FTW. Avenue Q has extended its Sydney run so if anyone wants to go to that, it's cheap on Tuesdays. I want to go to so many gigs I didn't even know was happening. This is what happens when I don't have the internet for a while, I fall completely behind. It's painful since I have no means to feed the desperate gig demon. Tickets for The Used go on sale tomorrow, I just hope there are still some available when I get home for my lunch break. Fingers crossed. Then there's Paolo Nutini, The Offspring, Them Crooked Vultures among many others...and that's not even mentioning Soundwave. Sheesh.
Last point, Australian Idol. I honestly cannot tell you why I feel compelled to watch this show. It is...bland at best, and yet, there I sit. Two or three (it was the year The Black Parade was released) Idols ago, they set up an interactive website for viewers to get involved in. They had an anonymous blogger, supposedly a famed individual within the festival industry, on this site who did the most hilarious, sarcastic write-ups of each performance show. I loved his posts and joined up so I could read/respond. Of course I was unable to resist the lure of another place I could ramble extensively and I started blogging there, making my own observations about the show and offering idiotic advice. I was pretty much consistently the highest rating blogger on that site and exchanged messages with previously mentioned anonymous blogger and the editor of the website. The latter was mostly because of my relentless scathing commentary on the functionality of the website. I didn't actually care all that much about Idol but I had so much fun blogging about it and angering people that I couldn't wait to do it again the next year. As I scrambled onto the site in '07 I realised that they had removed the blogging function from the site. Now secretly, I've always been convinced that this was because of me (if my ego is obstructing your view of the screen just jab it with a pen.) Every year and every performance show since I sit there and moan to my mother that they "took my blog away!"
So yeah, I think I keep watching this show out of habit and nostalgia. I am greatly concerned by the amount of people who keep coming back year after year and are now actually being put through where they were originally rejected. Could it be that the country is running out of talent? I'm fairly convinced the show is on its last legs. We've already gotten rid of Big Brother (thank god) so what's another reality show. Can I just say that you know your bands gone beyond mainstream if it makes it to Idol. Tonight we had Paramore and Fall Out Boy. I have a soft spot for the kid we call Thorpy since my mother decided he looks like Ian Thorpe, he reminds me of every theatre geek kid I've always wanted to be friends with and the first time I saw him perform he nailed 'We are the champions' with jaw dropping magnificence. If you can do Freddie justice, I generally find it quite hard not to appreciate your skills. On the requisite bitchy note...does Ricki Lee not have a stylist?
If you made it this far, well done. Pardon my vastly different subject matters and my lack of smooth transition between them.
Music: There is life outside your apartment - Avenue Q Broadway Cast
Mood: Exhausted
- rant about things seen in the paper
- outline the things I wish to attend
- yet again lament the revoking of my Idol blogging rights
First things first, Caster Semenya. Could they have made more of a mess out of this situation? To be honest I have no idea how the Athletics Federation are going to handle it but I hope they give it due thought and consideration, and that it doesn't just become some sort of running joke. I can appreciate the complication of the situation but at the same time it hardly seems fair that she should be penalized for merely being herself. That identity may not be one that is conventionally laid down by society, but who are they rule on what is normal or what is conventional? If a person identifies in a certain way, that should be a valid expression regardless of supposed norms. The way the article in the Sunday Telegraph started today summed up the whole messed up situation and really set my teeth on edge. It reads: "It was simple enough for [her] rivals at the recent world championships in Berlin. As far as they were concerned, she looked like a man and ran like a man. She was a cheat, and should be barred." But she identifies as female. What would they have her do, compete with the men where she would no doubt feel extremely uncomfortable? Or not run at all, despite the fact that she has a talent and passion for the sport. Should she just fade into the background, someone no one talks about? She has an unfair advantage competing with the women, but she wouldn't exactly fit in with the men either. Her genetic make-up means she doesn't fit the nice boxes society have drawn up in the past and yet, considering that she is not the only one to defy such characterisation, no one ever asks whether modes classification are perhaps the issue here.
Society insists on forcing people to define themselves and place themselves within neat boundaries as ruled down eons ago but whatever person decided to be the voice of reason on the matter of general expectations. Yet we are constantly told that every person is unique. So, the general consensus seems to be it's fine to be unique and different as long as it falls within the parameters of what we're comfortable with. It's archaic. I realise there aren't any easy answers here, I'm not stupid, I just think this whole situation has not been handled very well. I also just wish people weren't so hung up on sticking neat little tags on everything. How bad is this for her, she thinks she's following her dream to compete at an international level and then wins which is no doubt a happy moment for her, only to be dragged into this huge public scene. I noted somewhere that they're blaming the South African Authorities for not picking up on this but clearly these people have no idea what it's like over there. Granted I haven't lived in the country for a while, but I've often found a disturbing ignorance when it comes to certain things. Beyond that, it's been my unfortunate luck to find myself in situations where people can be oppressively misinformed and narrow-minded. I wouldn't want to make a sweeping generalisation about the country, but I am perfectly comfortable in stating its bureaucratic bodies to be ineffectual and incompetent at best. So I have nothing for sympathy for Caster Semenya who has been failed on so many levels and has been forced to go through all this in public. All at 18 years of age. It's madness.
Next up, things I wish to attend. Well, A streetcar named desire at the Sydney Theatre Company mostly. Aaaand I just realised its booked out. Dammit! It's gotten such stellar reviews too. Cate Blanchett FTW. Avenue Q has extended its Sydney run so if anyone wants to go to that, it's cheap on Tuesdays. I want to go to so many gigs I didn't even know was happening. This is what happens when I don't have the internet for a while, I fall completely behind. It's painful since I have no means to feed the desperate gig demon. Tickets for The Used go on sale tomorrow, I just hope there are still some available when I get home for my lunch break. Fingers crossed. Then there's Paolo Nutini, The Offspring, Them Crooked Vultures among many others...and that's not even mentioning Soundwave. Sheesh.
Last point, Australian Idol. I honestly cannot tell you why I feel compelled to watch this show. It is...bland at best, and yet, there I sit. Two or three (it was the year The Black Parade was released) Idols ago, they set up an interactive website for viewers to get involved in. They had an anonymous blogger, supposedly a famed individual within the festival industry, on this site who did the most hilarious, sarcastic write-ups of each performance show. I loved his posts and joined up so I could read/respond. Of course I was unable to resist the lure of another place I could ramble extensively and I started blogging there, making my own observations about the show and offering idiotic advice. I was pretty much consistently the highest rating blogger on that site and exchanged messages with previously mentioned anonymous blogger and the editor of the website. The latter was mostly because of my relentless scathing commentary on the functionality of the website. I didn't actually care all that much about Idol but I had so much fun blogging about it and angering people that I couldn't wait to do it again the next year. As I scrambled onto the site in '07 I realised that they had removed the blogging function from the site. Now secretly, I've always been convinced that this was because of me (if my ego is obstructing your view of the screen just jab it with a pen.) Every year and every performance show since I sit there and moan to my mother that they "took my blog away!"
So yeah, I think I keep watching this show out of habit and nostalgia. I am greatly concerned by the amount of people who keep coming back year after year and are now actually being put through where they were originally rejected. Could it be that the country is running out of talent? I'm fairly convinced the show is on its last legs. We've already gotten rid of Big Brother (thank god) so what's another reality show. Can I just say that you know your bands gone beyond mainstream if it makes it to Idol. Tonight we had Paramore and Fall Out Boy. I have a soft spot for the kid we call Thorpy since my mother decided he looks like Ian Thorpe, he reminds me of every theatre geek kid I've always wanted to be friends with and the first time I saw him perform he nailed 'We are the champions' with jaw dropping magnificence. If you can do Freddie justice, I generally find it quite hard not to appreciate your skills. On the requisite bitchy note...does Ricki Lee not have a stylist?
If you made it this far, well done. Pardon my vastly different subject matters and my lack of smooth transition between them.
Music: There is life outside your apartment - Avenue Q Broadway Cast
Mood: Exhausted
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Head explosion imminent
Blogspot deleted one of my posts, it would appear they take affront to my playlists. Still...don't do that! How am I supposed to know what I said in that post, I will never get it back you know! I hate that. There's a reason I blog and it's not to entertain whimsical delusions of grandeur or narcissism. It's to catalogue. Grrr. By the looks of things it was the post about Lizzie's farewell, the party at World Bar, and such. It was probably the Brand New song that did it. This is why I should do write in Word first, instead of doing it directly. Bah.
Music: The Simpsons
Mood: Sick
I have a splitting headache that makes me want to roll over and die if it means it'll stop. I'm just blogging this and then retreating to a dark corner to do aforementioned rolling over and dying.
I saw District 9 today, it was every bit as bizarre as I though it would be. For those who don't know, it's about an extraterrestrial race forced to live in slum-like conditions after their ship coasts to a halt above Johannesburg. The film starts out as a documentary about the "relocation" of this slum before descending into chaos as unwitting beaurocrat Wikus Van De Merwe gets handed way more than he can handle. When I first saw the previews I was dreading another apartheid film (I think all South Africans can say they are well and truly not interested in watching those kinds of things, it's painful and draining and I, for one, have had more than enough) so the appearance by the aliens completely threw me for a loop. The film did not disappoint. It is utterly bizarre, and equal parts hilarious as I understand the Afrikaans going on in the background. One moment made me think of Abbi - her favourite swear word puts in an appearance! Made me giggle. I admit that there may be a bit of nostalgia involved as well, even if just because of that shot of the Vodacom tower at the end, which I still think of as the Coca-Cola tower and that I've spent many nights staring at since there's a perfect view of it and the surrounding area from my grandparents' backyard. Oh, and the typical South African approach to things. It's actually a very believable, very real film despite the gross aliens. Yes, that's the technical term.
Wikus' approach to his problem near the end of the film greatly reminded me of my own strategy when playing tactical computer games - namely run and shoot and just pray you're going in the right direction and doing the right thing (I can't even tell you how many times I reached the next level in a game without having any idea what I was doing). There are of course socio-political aspects at play in the film, but it's so subtle that it doesn't dominate your experience. It's easy to draw parallels but I appreciate not being hit over the head with a message that has essentially been done to death. It makes a refreshing change. I was a bit grossed out by certain things, but this is still an "alien movie" and so it's probably to be expected. I thought the production was excellent too. The film has overall gotten rave reviews and in the US I believe it actually opened at the top of the box office, many have even noted it may be the sleeper hit of the summer.
But I just have to say...there is no Kempton Park University. I couldn't let that go. My brain just stuttered and tripped over itself.
Music: The Simpsons
Mood: Sick
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Lend to my ear a clear and a deafening sound
I return to the land of blogging after another major argument with my father. Over nothing, as per usual. I'm so tired of him just bossing me around and not listening to what I'm saying. He's just always so sure his viewpoint is the right, and only, one there is. I am tired; I am stressed; I have worked two days of back to back double shifts; I have yet to make progress on my piece so 4,000 words to be written; I have prior engagements that cannot be put off; I don't know whether I should be packing or unpacking and I just want my some consistent normality; and it seems thousands of razorblades have taken up residence in my throat. I'm not exactly in the best frame of mind to just let things go. Petulance, your name is Jen.
I'm verging on the stage where everything descends into a borderline blind panic. I haven't had that since I had to do three-unit math exams. Can't say I've missed it. But what can you do, trudge along.
Meant to mention this earlier but got sidetracked. I was trying to decide whether I should take Martha or Jack to Penrith last Friday and mum insisted I take Martha because, and I quote, "Jack is reckless, Jack gets people killed!" There was a moment where I just looked at her and we both promptly dissolved into giggles. I love that this has managed to translate into my relationship with my parents, my mother in particular. She's really taken to it. It makes a nice change.
On the moving front, will someone please shoot me and put me out of my misery? Don't know if we are moving anymore since apparantly the bank/owner have reached an "agreement". Ahuh yeah, and how long will this last? I don't actually want to move, but I don't want to go through this every three months either. If he can't keep up with his mortgage this will just keep repeating. Our lease is only for a year, of which there is nine months left, I dont' exactly want to be living out of boxes for that time. Goddamnit. The poor estate agent is having a nervous breakdown, she has her obligations to this owner and to the one of the Forks house we were supposed to be moving to. I'm just so over it. I'll live in a tent in the backyard if it means people will just leave me alone.
I really need to focus on my Honours, I only have like 76 days left or something. I don't want to deal with all this crap!
General state of study environment before:
What has become of everything after:
This is not conducive to a happy working relationship. The fact that Jasper's quality is consideriably crappier than my camera is further proof of the deterioration of this state of affairs.
Sigh.
Oh, while I was packing I found some soap bubbles...
Oreo, believe it or not, was scared of them. She's a great guard dog *rolls eyes*
Random observation, I am so underwhelmed by the new Kisschasy single, Generation Why. It just...I don't know, it lacks energy I suppose. That spark that made me love them so much that I never missed a show. I'm also not really all that impressed with the new Cobra Starship album.
Anyway. I need to get some flu meds in me, followed by a good night's sleep. Tomorrow I have a free screening of District 9 to attend.
Music: Ramalama - Roisin Murphy
Mood: Sick
I'm verging on the stage where everything descends into a borderline blind panic. I haven't had that since I had to do three-unit math exams. Can't say I've missed it. But what can you do, trudge along.
Meant to mention this earlier but got sidetracked. I was trying to decide whether I should take Martha or Jack to Penrith last Friday and mum insisted I take Martha because, and I quote, "Jack is reckless, Jack gets people killed!" There was a moment where I just looked at her and we both promptly dissolved into giggles. I love that this has managed to translate into my relationship with my parents, my mother in particular. She's really taken to it. It makes a nice change.
On the moving front, will someone please shoot me and put me out of my misery? Don't know if we are moving anymore since apparantly the bank/owner have reached an "agreement". Ahuh yeah, and how long will this last? I don't actually want to move, but I don't want to go through this every three months either. If he can't keep up with his mortgage this will just keep repeating. Our lease is only for a year, of which there is nine months left, I dont' exactly want to be living out of boxes for that time. Goddamnit. The poor estate agent is having a nervous breakdown, she has her obligations to this owner and to the one of the Forks house we were supposed to be moving to. I'm just so over it. I'll live in a tent in the backyard if it means people will just leave me alone.
I really need to focus on my Honours, I only have like 76 days left or something. I don't want to deal with all this crap!
General state of study environment before:
What has become of everything after:
This is not conducive to a happy working relationship. The fact that Jasper's quality is consideriably crappier than my camera is further proof of the deterioration of this state of affairs.
Sigh.
Oh, while I was packing I found some soap bubbles...
Oreo, believe it or not, was scared of them. She's a great guard dog *rolls eyes*
Random observation, I am so underwhelmed by the new Kisschasy single, Generation Why. It just...I don't know, it lacks energy I suppose. That spark that made me love them so much that I never missed a show. I'm also not really all that impressed with the new Cobra Starship album.
Anyway. I need to get some flu meds in me, followed by a good night's sleep. Tomorrow I have a free screening of District 9 to attend.
Music: Ramalama - Roisin Murphy
Mood: Sick
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