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Friday, 31 August 2012

Surprise? What the..

I had this dream last night where my parents asked me to go help at my aunt's brother's house. I knocked on the door only to find a small gathering, children doing whatever and adults looking over them. They said they didn't really need me and were a bit perplexed by my suggestion. Still, out of politeness (mostly) he let me in and I settled for looking out a window, entertaining myself while I waited to leave. All of a sudden, people barged in. It was a surprise family reunion to celebrate me. The whole thing was made stranger still by two old women, allegedly relatives on my dad's side of the family, who don't actually exist. It all seemed very familiar. They almost had an old gypsy feel to them. So much for my dreams. I don't know if I'm too lazy to come back to this and write about my day today, so I'll just end this post here.

Wednesday, 29 August 2012

Gruesome kills and Voldemort's second

Had a couple of dreams last night. In one, there was a killer out there slashing people in two wherever he went. Very gruesome. I was there with others who were investigating the murders, wondering who he'd go for next when given a lot of choices. As I ran out of whatever place we were in, away from the murderer that he may not catch me, I saw LesMisGuy from a distance and had a "moment." You know, of the kind where your heart melts a little as if the murderous rampage I was escaping was no big thing. Right.

In another dream, Lord Voldemort had a man who was his second. As Sauron to Morgoth, if you will. This man was counting on becoming very powerful. He and Voldemort were after two very special items. The first of them was found on the southeast of England and the second was to be found in the southwest (Surrey?). The location of both was known by Dumbledore. Most about this dream is now fuzzy, I just remember big dark storms and the idea that Voldemort had such a follower. I would have thought it "obvious" now and am now wondering why there's nothing quite like it in the books.

Tuesday, 28 August 2012

Big hug, big guy

Can you tell? You could tell because of the smile if you could see me writing now. I got an e-mail from SmTn. Sometimes all I want to do is give him a big hug because he's lovely. Today he sent me a link to a very girly song and offered himself as one of the most boring people. I wish I could tell him: "You just sent me a link to a nice girly song. There's no way you're boring." I'm quite sure it wouldn't come out right, though.

I'd write more, but frankly I'm too tired.

The nonsensical very abridged notes:

Aunt A is obsessed with tragedies. Not news but it sort of makes her a Debbie Downer.

Chemistry instructor is a closeted gay man. First day on the job he complimented a girl with "love the hair." Brings up wife and kids in every class. Poor dear.

LC4(?) is gay all right. He just doesn't quite know it yet. I noticed him looking at boys - a boy in particular. A very pretty boy. Oh dear, I do hope aunt A doesn't fuck up with him. Goodness forbid he be placed in a Catholic (or equally conservative) school. He's one very sweet, smart boy.

Monday, 27 August 2012

Pomp and circumstance

I've been quite too tired to write these last couple of days. I'll just make a quick note before I forget to make it at all. On Friday, quite a few fellow mathematicians received their diplomas in what I presume must have been a very big ceremony. Cheers to them. EBF briefly congratulated all people graduating in his facebook wall. Wouldn't mean much to me, because I got my degree about a month ago, right? Well, wouldn't you like to know I woke up Saturday morning with the "Pomp and Circumstance" tune in my head. 

That's when I realised it's LesMisGuy's graduation and stopped to mentally congratulate him. Goes for him, ExamGuy, and SweetGal. Don't know of many others right now. Anyway, cheers to them. 

Friday, 24 August 2012

Not exactly post-worthy

When I woke up this morning I think I still remembered bits of a dream I wanted to commit to memory. It was all gone by breakfast. During breakfast, the thought suddenly jumped at me: "What if LesMisGuy simply didn't know I liked him?". And then I caught myself short with a "There's just no way he didn't know. Don't be quite so silly, me. He had to know. He had more than enough information (how's infough for a portmanteau?). I told him I don't do squirrel logic. I asked him out. I asked him out. Having implied that I don't just ask people out. We kissed. We. kissed." If he can't be bothered to get back at me after that it's not on me because I didn't show I liked him. 

Wednesday, 22 August 2012

I can hear you

Aunt A is at it again. She's "organising the kitchen," which really means she's about to have a fourth serving of the strawberry mousse I made today. Full sugar (fructose). It's her fourth serving added to a generous serving of cookies, and I'm quite sure she's having more of those too. She's already bailed out of the scheduled gym appointment with the trainer. 

Also making me mad? She had friends over for lunch and a card game today. She'd told me about it and I helped. I helped translates into quite a few things. Last night, while she was out at a friend's place, I got started on the preparations. I baked the cookies to have with tea, cracked a coconut open and got started on the strawberry juice. Today I was up before 9. I helped make sure the garage doesn't smell like cat pee. I helped clean the dust in the living room. I washed the dishes from breakfast. She took up mopping the whole living room area. That was after she took a bit too long to drink her coffee. Also after saying she'd go shower and start getting ready. End result? We only just made it to college at around 11:30am, which means we were in a hurry to get back and start cooking before her friends arrived at 1pm. 

She got anxious and pushed me and hurried me because she took too long to get ready. She hurried me as I cooked and multi-tasked switching between making the strawberry mousse, cooking the chicken breasts and making the bechamel sauce. She even had the nerve to say I was overcooking the chicken and it would go dry. Being boiled in stock. Meant to go with sauce. *grunts* Then she was in a hurry to get the dessert out of the fridge too soon "because she sooo wanted to try it." Uh-huh. And could she not just wait for another half hour, rather than make a mess of things? As they ate dessert, I got started on washing the dishes. I wanted nothing to do with how outrageous a serving she got for herself. Only when I was nearly done did she say "Oh, but you could have put those in the dishwashing machine!". Uh-huh. And she didn't think to mention that any earlier because she was too busy stuffing herself up with the mousse, I presume. She didn't stop me even as I continued to wash everything else when her friends were gone. When my cousin came over to try the food, the two of them talked while I washed and aunt A didn't think to say "Thanks a lot, I'll take over from there and help you out." No.

When mum called and aunt A told her about what we'd done, she sort of mentioned how I'd cooked most of lunch. She said nothing about how I did all of the cleaning. She said nothing about how she hurried me because she was too slow getting ready. It really makes me very mad, you know. The whole thing. I'm really very upset and I don't dare tell mum, though she's worried and sent me an e-mail telling me to be patient, because then she'll definitely be worried and that's just one more thing in a very long list.

Fuck, I hate this.


A short one. I suddenly remembered as I dusted a table that I had a dream last night about lots of spiders knitting a web. I don't know what it was for, but it looked very strong, to have been strung by such small spiders. I regularly am not afraid of spiders, even the big ones, but there was something a little eerie about this web...

That is all.

Tuesday, 21 August 2012

Pointless soundtrack

This morning I woke up with the strangest notion that I had to show EBF the song "I'm glad you came" and tell him about how one of the top comments at the time when I saw the YouTube video was one of surprise at no porn having the song in the background.

On other news, I had class again today. A bit more real than yesterday. I might have a word on my instructors later, but for now there's one thing I just had to write about because I can't stop thinking about it him. I know... At this stage I should no longer get distracted thinking about LesMisGuy but there I was, thinking I was paying attention to the class, when I suddenly realised I was thinking of him. Couldn't shake the thought of him, either. I wondered where he is now. I remembered kissing him. I wondered if he remembered and then I wondered some more, asking myself if he regretted the fact that nothing ever happened between us. Pointless as questions go.  

I don't suppose that's a very worthwhile bit of thought there, but something about sitting around in class made me remember him all of a sudden and I thought that was somehow relevant.

On actual news about my life and its comings and goings, life with aunt A is very difficult, to say the least. She's stubborn, she's spoiled, she's worse than a bratty child, and I absolutely hate the fact that she will raise her voice at odd times to make her point, to be more noticeable,  to intimidate me into saying she's absolutely right and not to bother her. Even when I'm actually sensible about what I'm saying. We're enrolled in a gym, you know. And she's fucking supposed to go, because she needs to lose the weight because: health  problems. But she's lazy, and she thinks she's smarter than me, and she comes up with stupid excuses not to go to the gym. When she was lifting a heavy bag I offered going to the gym might help. She retorted that at age it's hopeless and I'm absolutely wrong to even suggest she an work out, leave alone get stronger. What a foolish idea: exercise helps you build muscle. She just can't do anything that can make her better because: old age and arthritis. I mentioned we had time to go to the gym after we finished running a few short errands and she stalled. She bloody stalled during the errands knowing we'd be too late to go to the gym. 

When I insisted even after this, because there was a little time, she said she'd just leave me there and then pick me up later. She picked me up later two and a half hours later. I swear she did it on purpose. Fuck the traffic. Fuck the rain. She figured I don't like going to the gym and making me insist on going there was worthy of me being punished by being left there far longer than I'd use for a work out session at this stage. The boy, though? Him, she spoils rotten and there's nothing I can do because she won't even back me up on decisions like making him try food that doesn't come in a happy meal.

She likes being the "nice" aunt who spoils him and argues that she should spoil him now, while she can, because she can. Even though she complains about him being a fucking pain with how he never lets go of electronic devices and how he never eats properly. Ugh!

And no, I'm not quite done yet. Do you know what I also hate about aunt A? The fact that she thinks I'm too stupid to realise she used "go find______" as a diversion so she could stock  the shopping cart with tons of organic and yet nevertheless unhealthy food for her. Organic potato chips are still potato chips. Organic candy is still candy and will raise her blood sugar. I didn't say anything. She actually gets mad at me for pointing out, even in a joking "you're too exaggerated, aunt," way that she shouldn't eat any of this. I'm nagging her to keep track of her blood sugar levels. I don't think she does it on her own and I'm not sure I can go on remembering because to be too honest, I don't bloody care enough to be nice and remind her of it.

Do you know why? Because there's yet something more I hate in this situation. That she counts on me to be quite like a maid. I offer to do the dishes, organise the kitchen, help with the laundry and take up projects like giving the dog a bath, cooking, cleaning out the fridge and washing out mats... you know, general "helping around the house." With things she doesn't do because she's too lazy to do or too dirty to bother about doing. Like the fridge. Which had gone without cleaning for over a month. There was food in there that had expired 6 years ago. It didn't bother her. I'm the one who offered to do it. While I did it, to be useful, she took to organising some of the kitchen drawers. Sometimes she'll take up washing the dishes, and sometimes? She'll  go into her room and wait until I'm done washing the dishes to come out and help with whatever she can. Sometimes, like today and tomorrow, she'll count on me doing everything she plans on. 

Tomorrow she's arranged to have lunch, a card game and tea with her friends. I helped her plan a menu around baked chicken, a salad, rice, a dessert and some cookies. She suggested a fairly complicated mousse dessert. Fine, I'll do it. I started working on it tonight blitzing the strawberries and sifting the juice. I opened up a coconut. I even baked cookies and hid them so she doesn't eat them before her friends get here. I would have grated the coconut but she doesn't own a decent grater. Can't tell her that, though. Same goes for the potato peeler. It's ages old and very uncomfortable to use, but at my mention of "wow, this is one old potato peeler" she got upset and barked "it still works!". Mostly, I hate her thinking I'm stupid for not noticing that she purposefully uses me. I hate her thinking that she can trick me into not realising she's doing things she shouldn't. I'm tempted to believe she might actually own a very precious, very expensive, item of my mum's and is hiding it from me on purpose. 

Because she likes to have things her way and making up stupid excuses for herself as she goes. She needs nothing more than a little validation and there will be no changing her mind about anything. Ever. Massively annoying. 

On rare occasions, she tries to be nice and make up for the times when she feels she's lashed out unreasonably. She hardly ever notices this, though so it never quite undoes the damage. i do my best to be nice but goodness knows she does not deserve it. The fact that my uncle is very generous and is married to her does not entitle her to abuse me like that. And yes, I'm calling it abuse. She doesn't get a right to take advantage of my willingness to help, nor my good nature and she certainly doesn't get a right to bully me with mind games, intimidating shouting and overall bitchiness.

It upsets me. Thank goodness mum's a saint and I'm sort of turning into her but I don't think I'll be able to keep up for long.

Oh, a quick side note. I can't quite stop myself. I keep trying to start conversations with EBF. All pointless, I must say, but I can't keep myself from trying nonetheless.

Sunday, 19 August 2012

Virtual high five

Seven hours away, as fast as the Earth spins, a massive high five to SmTn for linking The Beatles' "I'll follow the Sun" in his latest e-mail.

[couple of days after the fact edit:]
I was slow to post this. I realised this quite a bit earlier (read: that night when I googled the lyrics). Yes, the lyrics. Turns out the song is not so much about being happy and following the Sun, as I might have thought, and rather about an ultimatum made to end a relationship. Not so cheery anymore, is it?And that's about it, really. I just wanted to say that yes, I understand that my high five makes absolutely no sense when you take the lyrics into consideration because pretty much any explanation is a terrible one. Ranging from "I don't want to be your friend any more" to "I might be thinking of dumping my girlfriend" none of it sounds good. Anyway, I just wanted to say that the virtual high five was for the (I thought) cheery, catchy song I thought was so sweet. Maybe, that's exactly the only reason he sent it and he never looked up the lyrics either. Not that I've looked up the lyrics of every song I've sent his way... (though I don't suppose hope I've sent anything inappropriate)

Friday, 17 August 2012

Arguments with aunt A How do you solve a problem like aunt A

As I've mentioned before, aunt A is stubborn. Very stubborn, at that. And she likes to get into arguments with everyone and anyone about everything and anything. The smallest remark on my part will stir up an argument in her and I don't think she's been reasonable even once. The first one that comes to mind is this morning's argument. For some reason, the neighbourhood has a magazine. Which is kind of funny on its own, but it's not what I remarked. I was perusing through it during breakfast, wondering what kind of news and articles went into such a magazine and thought out loud that it was funny they made a story out of a tree that fell during a storm and how it was alive and well now. Are they fucking serious? That's newsworthy? A fallen tree? And celebrating it being alive rather than replanting it or cutting it off so that people don't have to drive around it...? Well, I thought it was a funny sort of thing to write about and I pointed it out.

Aunt A mentioned how they value trees' lives around here and how you can't cut them without asking for permission. I pointed out they probably don't put such restrictions to save the environment, and that people don't recycle all that much around here. Big mistake. She went on and on about how they really do recycle everywhere around here (they don't: I've noticed... more often than not, aunt A is too lazy to take anything to the recycle bins). I did not make the mistake of telling her this as she went on and on about how everyone recycles around here. That's when I opted for just being quiet. She backs up silly arguments with increasingly stupid ones until she's making a racket about proving something that's blatantly wrong just to prove a general statement that would prove her right in dismissing my remarks.

What annoys me the most is that she actually gets angry at me for even suggesting that the fallen tree story is kind of silly. She got mad at me for suggesting that sometimes newspapers and magazines don't prioritise their news properly, burying important news under the buzz of frivolous ones. She'll try and make a case for the frivolous ones because human lives are precious, because people in other countries need to know, because reasons. When I argued other news are more important to the general population because they have a direct impact in their lives, she called me an idealist and said I just hadn't lived long enough. I didn't point out nothing matters to her because she's in a comfortable position where uncle A can afford anything she could need and she never has to battle policies in a life-threatening way.


It's going to be a very long two or three years.

[5pm edit]
Alternate title: How do you solve a problem like aunt A?

You know, aunt A has many health issues, diabetes being only one of the biggest ones. She has bad arteries and had to have a procedure done to unblock an artery less than two months ago. Why am I bringing this up, you ask? Because for all the advise she gives me on what's healthy and what's not, she does a terrible job staying healthy. On this particular occasion, it's lunch that did it. You see, a few days ago I baked a low butter, low fructose apple crumble. I was planning on it being a tiny bit sweeter but it turned out all right, to be honest. I was glad aunt A kept having slices of it because I figured at least she got a healthier alternative to the ice creams she has nearly everyday "because they don't have sugar." (Oh, but they have plenty of other things that are no good for her health, I just don't bring it up.) I was surprised to see her pour honey all over her slice of pie today. Which she had after lunch today. At around 3 or 4 in the afternoon because she was at the doctor's. A new doctor because the old one asked her to fill in a ten day chart with her blood sugar levels and she was too lazy to do it. 

I might talk about how she treats her doctors like they she's their client and not their patient, but I'll go on about lunch for a while longer. I worried that she hadn't had lunch and would have very low blood sugar (not that she'd go with low blood sugar, she carries very sweet chocolates "for that purpose"). I offered to make her lunch and we settled on rice with a side of steamed vegetables. The steamed vegetables, of course, took some time and she was starving, so she had the rice and some roasted chickpeas (about the only healthy thing in her lunch) I made a couple of days ago. I can already hear you say "Wait, when did you become such a health nut? Surely, rice should be part of a healthy lunch" and I'd have to answer: No. Not when you pair it with over almost two spoonfuls of mayonnaise. I know the cajun remoulade is really tasty, but half a cup of rice (or any serving of food) doesn't really need so much of it.

When the vegetables were done, she said she was full, but still served herself a slice of the apple crumble, which is when I noticed the honey thing. I turned my back against her and said nothing, but she ought to know better. And to think she won't want a trainer at the gym because they'll actually make her *gasp* work. She's good at shopping, I'll grant her that. But she treats everyone like she's nothing but a customer and that's hardly a good way to go about things. While, yes, she's paying for the trainer's job at the gym, she's not getting her money's worth unless she lets the trainer tell her what to do and how to do it. She's not getting anywhere if she can't pair up the exercise with a decent diet, and the fact that I try to eat healthy every day, striving to eat salads, fruits and vegetables every day as well as cook healthy alternatives does nothing to help her. She needs to lose the weight because her heart won't be able to keep up, nor will her arteries, or her pancreas. She should know this. But she'll go from one opinion to the next, waiting for someone to agree with her and then she'll cling to that even in the face of reasonable people telling her otherwise. 

I understand that she has limitations, but she does not stick to them as she should. If she's doing less exercise because it hurts, then she shouldn't eat things she knows will make her bigger because it will fucking hurt more. It's rather simple logic, really. She just doesn't follow it and it's not because she's that much of a moron. She is, however, that much of a stubborn old cow.

For those of you in the back who are scandalised that I just called my aunt, who's feeding me and looking out for me in a whole new city and country, kindly leave the blog. I don't hesitate to call my only living grandmother a cockroach and I'm sure you wouldn't like it either. Understand that while I'll stand by family, I don't feel compelled to show them respect they don't deserve. If they're intolerant, stubborn, unreasonable or downright stupid I won't hesitate to say so and complain about it because I expect better from them. 

Wednesday, 15 August 2012

Gossip and paranoia

Do you know what's always trouble? Gossip. And what makes it worse? My aunt A telling it. She has opinions, and she hates to be wrong, so she wants to me agree to everything she says and all I can do is nod and try to agree with her while remaining unenthusiastic about everything, lest she makes a habit out of trying to make me mad at people I don't know over gossip. Goodness, it really turned awkward. 

It's no secret in my family that uncle A cheated on aunt A. I gather it might possibly be going on even now and I know it's a big breach to her privacy to go ahead and post it on the web just like that but I don't suppose anyone's reading so... Anyway. I know these things because they've been mentioned before by family members. Today, she heavily hinted at it when she told the story of a friend of hers who got divorced. At her (considerable) age. And she told me how all the women in their group of friends were upset with her and had a thing against her from before the divorce, and how unsympathetic they were. And I know she's digging into a sore spot when she tells this and I know she wants to talk and have someone listen but there's a very big inconvenient in this scene I'm telling you about. The door was wide open, and though uncle A was in the kitchen listening to the news or whatever, I'm quite sure he could hear.

As soon as I got out of there (I'll become a master of diversion to drive aunt A away from uncomfortable conversations if not a master in biomedical engineering), I decided to get the dog inside the house. She's nice to have around and is company as good as any. She's always grateful, always happy and always smiling, though there's a hint of sadness from what must have been abuse when she was younger and she's a bit of a scaredy cat. Anyway, I needed release and I suppose I missed being able to be with animals and talk to them. I wanted to talk to her, so I did. I wanted to say "he could have heard us, not that he'd care because he doesn't exactly regret it" and I did. I whispered it in French (because French, is what). And then I became increasingly paranoid about it, wondering if he'd heard me given that I was much closer to him than we were from the room. 

If he heard us from the room and then me, then I definitely fucked up. If he heard us from the room and didn't hear me, then it's fucked up. If he heard me but not us from the room then it's still. fucked. up. Not getting better, is it?

For now, I have classes to look forward to. Those will begin on Monday. 


I really hope I do well. I really hope I can keep up. For now, my plans include watching Khan Academy videos about biology and chemistry, trying not to fall asleep, and... well... I don't know, to be honest. I just left N1 a message. I haven't heard from anyone other than A all this time. Not from EBF, not from AOB, not from CtThumbe, not from SmTn (though I suppose he's the only one who's gotten a sort of full account of what's going on) and that's all there is (as far as friends go). I can't believe I actually logged on to facebook chat hoping someone would talk to me. All I did was leave N1 a message and come type here rather than look up the classes I have to take before the site goes down for maintenance. 

Like aunt A, I suppose I needed to vent. Unlike her, who has me, I have only the blog to rely on. It's a good thing, I suppose, because I won't pick fights with the blog like she will with me sometimes. She actually argued that pistachios are a good substitute for meat as meals for children. Now, I know: pistachios have a lot of protein. I looked it up: there are other higher-protein alternatives to meat and I think most meats still have a higher proportion of protein per child-size serving. What that amounts to is that while she argues that feeding a child pistachios is as good as giving him dinner (because he won't have dinner once he's full of pistachios), the amount of pistachios that will make him full doesn't contain as much protein as the amount of meat that will make him full. Given some doctor recommended her this substitute, there's no talking her out of it and I didn't push the subject. She did, after a while, concede that she wouldn't interfere with what said child's mum wanted for him and calmed down a bit from almost yelling at me for pointing out that pistachios aren't quite a substitute for meat.

To think I didn't mention the massive amounts of sodium that go into pistachios and how having them more than once a week might be sort of a bad idea for a child... No, dears. Self-control. Mum really is a saint. 

[of course, an edit. Midnight.]
Still online on facebook. N1 gave me a long run-down of how things are going with the last guy she was with (apparently there's something still between them) and then sort of disappeared. Granted, I was away for a bit and let her talk and talk uninterrupted, possibly telling her I wasn't so interested but by the time I answered, some ten minutes later, she stopped writing altogether. Some time after that I caved. I noticed EBF was online and started a conversation. I asked how things were going, he asked the same and I gave him a somewhat lengthy answer (it seems I always end up doing that, spurting out whatever I couldn't keep to myself any longer, however brief I try to be). He said to give him a second and I'm quite sure it's been over half an hour. At first, I figured he knew I'd want to talk-talk and was trying to make time. I've rather given up on that idea, though. But I'm still fucking online. Just in case, I tell myself. I'm delusional, I remind myself.

Oh, look! In the time it took me to switch off into the small computer I can carry onto bed with me, he's gone. Right.

[Morning after edit]
You'd think technology over here would at least match the one we had back home in university. The site to register classes is down. Again. So, I'm online and try facebook, goodness knows what for. After a while of being online (trying to get the site to load), EBF logs on to facebook and leaves me a message saying he's sorry for disappearing last night he promises we'll catch up later, that he has a quiz to take. I just answered "never mind, ace that quiz" and left it at that. You see, I realise (read: I'm given to understand) things aren't going all that well for him. I can only guess this is the sort of thing one might want to talk about. Except we don't talk. And we certainly won't talk about his troubles. And now it looks like I'm the one hogging the attention. And... well, it's just a big. FAT. FUCK! Innit? As petty as it sounds, I sort of don't want to talk to him any more. I know I meant to say "don't worry" but I said "never mind" and, now, I mean it. Never. fucking. mind. I've got the bloody blog for a reason, don't I?

[What do you know? Yet another edit. Same day, actually at night.]
I'm online in facebook, mostly catching up with N1 and EBF was online for a while. It was only then when I realised another acceptable answer would have been "it's ok, go ace your quiz" but I didn't say it either. I suspect I wouldn't have meant it either. It's actually not ok, which is why he apologised. But there was a time when he didn't have to apologise for such things, even when they happened and an apology was "due," because we got along. Now, while my "never mind" was probably very rude, and more than a little petty, It's all I could actually say and actually mean. I didn't say what I meant, but I meant what I said. How's that for an Alice in Wonderland conundrum?   

I just couldn't leave it alone, could I? I checked in Wiktionary and my usage of "never mind" is correct and not at all rude. Except for the fact that in my mind I said it with a sarcastic tone I'm sure he would have noticed. Then it's rude again. And melodramatic. But really, this whole thing right now proves that I really have a thing for torture. This  is all so I can tell myself it's my fault he doesn't try talking to me.

Tuesday, 14 August 2012

Serves me right, I suppose

That's what I get for thinking of LesMisGuy, nearly a year after the fact. I had a dream last night where I re-lived our last interactions with a few variations. Namely, the last thing he said was: "talk to you soon" or something along those lines and I know that because of when and how he said it, he meant it to say "I really like you." I was all the more upset when things turned the way they did because in my dream I actually had evidence. To me, a clear contract was implied by the fact that he'd said he wanted to talk to me again soon and it was broken when things went south like they did in real life.

That will be all for today.

Monday, 13 August 2012

Concerns about waste

If people around here are one thing, that one thing is lazy. as. fuck. Not that fucking is a lazy exercise, but you get my drift.

Portion sizes are ridiculous, for just about everything. It goes without saying that they waste so much of everything. Including food.

So, that sort of explains a dream I had last night where my parents were hosting very large reunions for me. Very large as in at least a hundred guests. One of them was a do-over of the farewell family reunion we had earlier. The other one I don't know the occasion for. All I know is that there were two of them, because mum sent in food a bit too early. I remember the food in question distinctly being some kind of berry/cherry cheesecake of the kind you put in the fridge (as opposed to the kind you bake, for those of you non-cooks out there). The thing is, mum sent out the desserts too soon, when people weren't hungry enough yet and I worried that they would leave it all on the plates waiting for the waiters to pick up the nearly-full plates. I  couldn't stand the thought of such waste. I don't know if we could afford it in the dream (you'd think if we could afford such a big reunion how much food was wasted would be a minor problem, and then again we could be throwing the house out the window to host it in the first place). All I know is I worried. And that it had already happened before which is why I knew I had reason to tell mum the same thing would happen again.

So much for dreams.

I'll make a small side note to point out that last night I briefly remembered kissing LesMisGuy and I still had a full chain reaction starting with warm, fuzzy feelings and ending with an unbelievable urge to sink and disappear from sight and existence. I suppose I'll always wonder about the relationship that never was.

Saturday, 11 August 2012

Of French and non-French kisses

You'd  think that title up there preceded an incredibly long and elaborate post, wouldn't you? Almost sounds serious, doesn't it? Well, it's not. As you're about to find out, this will be a rather short post.

First off, my dream from last night. I had several dreams last night, but there's only one I wanted to commit to memory. It's been a while since I last had a dream like it, too. I had a dream where I was with SmTn. I had a dream where SmTn and I were kissing. Not on the lips, though. To misuse a popular expression, "everything but." We kissed each other's necks and jawlines, getting carried away and holding back just short of actually kissing on the lips (like everything else was OK). The correct word to describe it is enticing.

Now, as for the French aspect of this whole thing... It's not so nice to talk in Spanish around here, even if it's more comfortable. It's frowned upon, if only a little. And yet I refuse to turn into a stereotype, I refuse to turn local even if I'm sometimes mistaken to be. I retreat in French: I think to myself in French, I get French songs stuck in my head. Today's song is Édith Piaf's "Mon Dieu."

Thursday, 9 August 2012

Don't ever let me become a stereotype. Please?

So, reporting again from the land of stereotypes. It's like a fucking film over here. People seem so very plain around here. That includes uncle and aunt A, mind you.

Uncle A is old-fashioned. 1800s old-fashioned. He wouldn't wash a cup he had coffee in or pick up the phone when he's next to it and everyone's busy in a million years. He's a fanatic, though he would never admit to it, and he's a dangerous fanatic because he's actually smarter than the average fanatic. He will actually try to argue his way out of the unreasonable things he believes in. I'm told he doesn't believe dogs should ever be bathed. He's anal about room temperatures. He's anal about food. He's a fucking pain in the ass for just about everything that overlaps his beliefs and the way he's so unyielding, even when facing reason, can be rather annoying. There's one more thing I find annoying: the way he's the reasonable one when compared to aunt A. He pretty much made her the way she is. It's on him.

Do I need to explain? I don't think it's necessary. As for my aunt A... if there's one thing to understand about aunt A it's that she likes tragedies. She may not admit to it and will even complain "everything's such a tragedy" but she actually indulges in them. Blood sugar too low? It's a damned tragedy, she needs some of the stowaway candy she keeps in her purse. Blood sugar too high? She needs a dose of insulin, except she always takes too much and needs more candy. Politics? It's a damned tragedy and she's given up on every politician who has ever lived. Trivial news stories about the health of important-ish people? Damned tragedies more important than stories about things that could change the welfare of thousands because "human lives and stuff." Perspective? Lost. Chemicals in food? Damned tragedies because everything will give you cancer and if only I were her age maybe I'd understand. To aunt A, the citric acid in vitamin C is poison next to the citric acid in lemons. Same bloody thing, huge bloody difference to her. Salt? The one from mines, she says, is purer than sodium chloride. I know she doesn't know chemistry but she should be smart enough to understand that no matter how you get to the end product, a chemical is just a chemical and on its own, given it can also be found in nature, it's hard for it to be harmful.

She doesn't mind aspartame, though. Or whatever crap goes into the candy she eats. Or the dozens of pills she and uncle A pop down every day. Those are natural, she says, and natural things doe't ever interact in a negative way with anything, nor can you ever have too  much of them. Bollocks. Have too much of anything and it'll kill you, no matter if it's natural or not. Goes for nuts of Brazil and tomatoes, if I remember correctly, and I'm sure it goes for plenty other things.

Goodness forbid I ever turn that way. I've actually had big salads every day since I got here. I can adapt to change. I will adapt to change. 

To be too honest, I don't actually miss my family. It feels odd when aunt A says we should call because I can't think of anything to tell them and I don't really want to talk to them. I'll admit seeing the old man tear up at the airport made me almost tear up too, and all I could think of saying to him (though I didn't, for obvious reasons) was "Make me proud, old man. Do right by mum and my sister." Right now I don't even miss EBF, A, AOB or SmTn. I'd like to write SmTn an e-mail and mock everything I can from here. I've even thought of a title: "I've found a fountain of youth." I haven't gotten around to it yet.

I'm busy trying to make sense out of the registration process for the two bit college I'm supposed to attend. I'm supposed to wait for an e-mail from a lady who said she'd meet me so we could make arrangements regarding the subjects I can skip, but she hasn't got back to  me yet. And I'm quite sure I'm fucked if I don't manage to get seats by tomorrow. I tried doing it myself just now, if only to score seats while I can get them and guess what? The site crashed.

Tuesday, 7 August 2012

It begins...

Oh dear...

I made it to my aunt A's place. In one piece. My mind's starting to suffer for it, though.

You see, aunt A is nothing if not stubborn, blockheaded and determined to be always right. She was still sorry I couldn't travel in business class today so, even though my  uncle asked and got a negative for openings, she asked the man taking our bags if there wasn't maybe a chance to upgrade my ticket. The man said no and elaborated, explaining that the plane we were supposed to travel in had been changed for a smaller model, so we definitely wouldn't be likely to score seats. Aunt A insisted, so the man gave her a last resort checking the VIP room about 45min before the flight took off. We had lunch and after lunch my parents wanted met to get my shoes polished, which was a decent enough proposal and offer. I said yes, but then all of a sudden aunt A got all angsty saying that if we didn't make it to the VIP room exactly at the time indicated we definitely wouldn't be able to upgrade my ticket. Mark, it was already a long shot, but she thought it was a sure thing and things just had to go her. way. We arrived at the gate maybe 10min later than we'd planned to. We didn't go straight to the VIP room because, when I pointed out that the VIP room should be across from the gate we were to board from, she just heard the bit about the gate. Once inside, she asked around for the upgrade option in the VIP room and was informed that it was pointless to go to the VIP room then because it was mostly a place to relax before the flight and it was almost time to board the plane. The young lady explaining all this also mentioned the change in planes, to further reinforce the fact that we weren't going to get the tickets. Leave it to aunt A to decide it was all my parents fault for taking the time to want me to wear decent-looking shoes. She explained it this way to everyone who would hear. First time around I said nothing, but when I was trying to report back to my parents I couldn't let her just imply it was their fault when it obviously wasn't

It's a very annoying attitude in her (and in anyone, really) and I can already foresee how much trouble it can bring. Another instance of her being willing only to admit as fact whatever backs up her hypotheses (however convoluted) was the immigration paperwork. She told me to declare NO food whatsoever, even though the form clearly asked for food in general and not just the obviously illegal (read: fresh) kind. She said that once (many years ago, before grandma died) she had declared she had food in her suitcases and had been taken in by a TSA agent who had torn the suitcase apart only to yell at her (I'm sure this is a gross exaggeration) for making him/her check a bag that didn't actually contain anything illegal. She understood that incident to mean that ever after it would be all right to bring food along and simply not declare it to avoid the hassle of having your bags looked through. While practical, anyone would agree this is wrong. More than wrong, I daresay this is also illegal. 

The one that really takes the cake is her paranoia, though. You know the first airport we got to was a very big one with not nearly enough janitors. Fine, I'll chalk that up to bad administration. The area where we were to wait for the next flight were heavily littered. Nothing more than that. She got all paranoid saying that a certain bag with leftover styrofoam boxes had been on a seat for too long and that it most certainly must be a bomb. Her american civic duties kicked in and she wouldn't hear any of my reasons why she was taking it a bit too far or why it wouldn't make any kind of sense to put a bomb there. Goodness, if only the janitor had come by any sooner she wouldn't have been the wiser if the bag had gone into a bin. Why make such a racket about it?

I get that she hasn't had it easy and has been in more than one unpleasant situation of the jarring kind. I don't appreciate a paranoia that over-rides reason and refuses to go away in the face of evidence. I think a good deal of what she worries about has to do with being a terrible judge of character. Want proof? She likes my newly wedded cousin's husband. 'Nuff said... But seriously, she failed to see the creepy in people and I really think one could have caught on to at least some of it before she had to get in the awful situations. 

To illustrate my point, I offer the fact that CtThumbe went to the airport to say goodbye, AOB called and sounded genuinely sad saying his goodbye and EBF sent a text message to wish me a good trip. You can include A's visit if you like. Oh, and add the fact that SmTn is lovely. And today, after seeing faaar too many stereotypes walking around, I find him all the more fascinating for being the way he is. Here's to an additional special entry in the nicest people I know tag, just because they're all so nice.

Can't find the song. Today's soundtrack was mostly the first song in the Édith Piaf cd my parents own. The upeat one that starts with bells and a piano.

 had to look it up. "La vie, l'amour."

Monday, 6 August 2012


Even before starting to write it occurs to me that it's cheesy to write about welcomes when I'm actually supposed to be saying goodbye, but the truth is I'm not in a goodbye kind of mood and the welcome inspiring the title isn't the kind you'd think.

We were out on a roadtrip to have lunch today and had a meal with everyone left to celebrate mum's birthday. I'm pretty much all done. I just have to remember to pack pads, print out the medical insurance papers and download the pictures I took today. I think that's it, I might regret it sooner than later. It seems to me that at least the essentials are covered. Lingerie? Check. Clothes and shoes to wear tomorrow? Check. Books? Check. Diploma? Check. Food? Double-check. Lovely dresses? Check. Locks?... Well, aunt A says they're superfluous and I don't know if my paranoia warrants getting the expensive ones. That leaves a few minor last minute purchases for tomorrow. 

A asked if she could come by to say goodbye. I said it was ok and told her I'd let her know when I got back from lunch. She arrived sometime after my uncles left. She stayed until 11:30pm, when everyone had already gone to bed and I was very tired. I think it's fair to say she overstayed her welcome. It's unfair (but true) to say she wasn't very welcome here at all to begin with. Not on my side, anyway. Not for her to come vent about yesterday night's drama. To make matters worse, I actually missed a call from AOB (which I wish I'd been able to take). I left him a message and I'll be checking facebook tomorrow morning. CtThumbe sent a message asking if it would be ok to come meet me at the airport to say goodbye. It's actually a very sweet gesture. Haven't heard from EBF.

To summarise: A came over and overstayed her welcome, and I told her to come even though she wasn't very welcome at all; I missed a welcome call from AOB and a message from CtThumbe; screw all other goodbyes.

How do I feel, now? The answer now is the same I gave SmTn: numb. I don't feel anxious. What's keeping me up at night writing this is the need to write, which doesn't feel directly related to leaving. Rather, I felt a little petty and wanted to get the A thing out of my system. I don't even feel emotional at all about the goodbyes. I don't think I'm fully aware of the situation just yet. I'll be on a plane to a different country in about 12 hours and I have nothing but packed suitcases to show for it. I've actually debated on whether or not to leave some of the money my parents gave me behind. I might leave it with a note to my mother, telling her to use it for something necessary. I have to make sure to delete all traces and evidence of an old envelope with letters and pieces of paper now devoid of meaning. Through some hesitation making sure nothing precious was left, I deleted all messages on my phone when I was done copying the numbers. 

I almost wrote LesMisGuy's number down. I almost didn't delete the messages. I even considered going over them one last time before they were gone for good. I didn't. I realised it was worthless to keep his number knowing it will be useless. I didn't go over any of the messages knowing it would have been torture. I deleted them all because I wouldn't want mum snooping. It all brings me back to something I told AOB: in the spurt of the moment, after briefly going over what happened with LesMisGuy, when he asked why I never called, texted or otherwise tried to contact him after he said "maybe some other time" I said "I was too embarrassed... I know it sounds terrible to put it that way, but I felt humiliated." True that. Whenever I think about the whole thing I sink lower in my seat, I cover myself up in bed, I shrug my shoulders and retreat to foetal position. AOB was right: I need not feel that way, and yet I do. The facts remain that I grew very attached to a young man I believed was wonderful, I pursued the fantasy of a relationship with him, I put myself out there for him and when all was said and kissed done, he wanted nothing to do with me. What kind of self-respect can a gal have when everything she has to offer gets that kind of response?

Saturday, 4 August 2012

Happy birthday, ma

It's my mum's birthday today, if the title didn't clue you in. The old man suggested we (him, my sister and me) all chip in a little money to buy her a present, except he half-assed it and decided we should just give her the money in an envelope. I know she would have just spent it on meaningless necessary things like parking fees, gas and paperwork and I firmly believe gifts should be indulgent. So we went out to buy her a present. She insisted on going to a cheap place rather than a shopping centre, so we did. She got things she needed but were fairly indulgent: two pants, a pair of shoes, and socks. I insisted on a couple more socks and some of those make-up removing wipes she likes so much. I told her not to worry about the money. We ended up spending almost double what the old man was expecting to spend and I covered the extra, not mentioning a word to him. I also haven't mentioned the fact that I paid for some of the groceries necessary to make mum her favourite meal (my recipe of Vietnamese spring rolls). 

It was my aunt A's idea that we go out for lunch at a restaurant today so we (read: mum) wouldn't have to worry about getting the house ready to entertain guests, or cook, or anything. The old man had other plans of inviting relatives over tomorrow for tea. It would be bearable, but he has more plans for tomorrow, including going out to play tennis with my sister until noon and driving out of the city for lunch. That means that while the two of them go away to play, aunt A, mum and I will have to make do getting ourselves and the house ready before we leave to meet them as they come out to go have lunch. That will have us rushing back to hurriedly put a meal together. Not fun, you could guess. And there's no reasoning with him, either. It was a stupid as fuck idea to book two hours of tennis courts every Sunday, and it's stupider yet to try and squeeze other plans on Sundays being aware of it. From a man who studies and works with project management, you'd think you could expect better. But he thinks we can get the house ready in a half hour and won't take so long to get ready, not to mention he doesn't seem too aware of the existence of his hag of a mother and how much of a bother it will be to set things up for her while we're gone.

Mum told him nothing about how I'm now penniless because I spent pretty much all I had in her gift. While I honestly thought it wouldn't add up to what it did, I don't regret any of it. It's not like I've got anything else to do with my money right now. I'm actually thinking of slipping mum some of the money I have left so she can pay for her credit card debt telling the old man nothing. It won't buy anything. She won't be able to use the card again. But she'll stop being harassed by the vultures over at the that debt collecting department.

As for the unspoken question: how come I have nothing else to spend the money on? Wasn't I supposed to meet AOB, EBF, CtThumbe and A before I leave? Wouldn't Friday and Saturday night make for great occasions for just such an occasion? Well, I don't fancy seeing A. It seems neither her nor her parents can make it tomorrow and if she comes over for a bit I can suffer it but I'm not looking forward to it. I tried to reach EBF and CtThumbe last night. CtThumbe had a big test to get ready for. EBF was going out partying with friends. I know it's the "nice"
 thing to do, but I was frankly a little insulted when he said "you and AOB are welcome to join us." It actually took me quite a while to think of a way to answer "hell, no" and I had to settle for something along the lines of "I know AOB can't make it and I can't really make it on my own." As for today... well, I'm now pretty much penniless, so I didn't try to contact anyone But EBF hasn't been online, A only just managed to say she might come tomorrow, AOB must be busy and I haven't asked CtThumbe how she did on her test. I sort of don't want to see anyone today. Or tomorrow, for that matter.

You'd think I could be more anxious about leaving. You'd think I'd be sorry if I don't get to say my farewells to the above mentioned before I leave, or if I don't make things right with the old man. You'd think I could care a little bit more and the truth is I don't. I'm quite numb about leaving, just waiting to see how much better or worse it can possibly turn out to be. I more often than not feel like I don't really have to say goodbye to anyone, because I don't need to (AOB, CtThumbe) and because I don't want to (everyone else). I won't make anything right with the old man because he doesn't deserve it. I've made up my mind to work and save so I can help out with the necessary expenses behind his back. I've made up my mind not to use any money he can send my way, rather preferring to have my mum chip away at debts with it.

Back on track, though, I actually mean it: Happy birthday, ma. Just give me enough time, I'll figure out a way to make life easier for you.

Friday, 3 August 2012

Big party and a cup of coffee

Two things I remember from my dreams last night. In one dream there was a big party being hosted by someone rich. I think it was a wedding. I remember going through Barbie dolls dressed up for such an occasion, trying to pick clothes to wear to the party and N1 telling me a maxi dress with a jacket just wouldn't do. CtW and NtP were at the party, but were bored and leaving early because the security was a bit ridiculous and had forbidden the use of cellphones arguing they could take pictures and alter them. 

In another dream, SmTn was here. We bought a cup of coffee and drank it as we walked around. Though we didn't talk all that much it was very comfortable, being with him. When we were done with the coffee we sat down on the floor and I took my chances putting my head on his shoulder. A lot of girls then came out of nowhere and ambushed him, asking if he was single and how hard it would be to get it on with him. For the record, he still had a girlfriend. I laughed quietly at the their insistence.

Thursday, 2 August 2012

Can't get away from her fast enough

For the love of...

You know, there's a competitive aspect to interactions between women I find particularly annoying. It was apparently there all throughout high school and I was the happier for never being aware of it, but with A sometimes it's just unavoidable. I painted her nails on Tuesday. I thought she only needed one coat but she insisted on two and got bubbles all over her polish. I suggested she buy a base coat, as she never uses any. I've mentioned things I've heard passed on by my aunt A about how I have a number of things waiting for me, gifts from my uncle and cousin, including a phone. Makes no sense to string those sentences together, does it? It will in a bit.

She started a conversation to let me know she painted her nails again because she bought a (surely over-priced) base coat and bragged about how perfectly she painted them. I said I'd coincidentally painted my nails today and remarked I was only missing a few final touches cleaning the edges. She pointed out her perfect nails were so perfect she had nothing to clean up. She then mentioned she'll be getting a new phone (matching the one I'm told is waiting for me). Part of me resents the fact that for her everything is a contest. I've never bragged about my phone. If anything, I'm a little proud of it being fairly old and could still be using the broken one I had before it, a year ago, no problem. She makes a point to show me she has the nicest things, and I think she's always been this way (going back to when we were very little). On the rare occasion when I got something nice she didn't have, she'd find a way to ruin it for me. Sometimes I wonder why I'm such a pushover, and whether or not I owe her anything any more to justify putting up with this shitty mentality. 

Another part of me wonders what the fuck she's going to do when she has to work for a living and doesn't make an awful lot of money. The last couple of years, things haven't been going too well for her family but she spends money she can't really afford, and she's always been quite used to luxury they should have been going without to make ends meet. I can only assume her parents have a much smarter way to handle money than mine do. Either way, she'll eventually run out of people to give her fancy things to show off about and I don't suppose she'll be able to afford them on any salary she can be expected to have in the future. One can only guess she'll be making very stupid financial decisions then, but won't have much to fall back on.

Either way, she's toxic. It really jumps out at you when you consider other people I know can be so much nicer than her.

Sometimes I think he was so right...

Received an e-mail from SmTn. Haven't read it yet. The first thing to be seen is a link to John Denver's interpretation of "Leaving on a Jet Plane" which means SmTn thought of the same song as me for my departure, except I thought I'd put it down in Monday's soundtrack somewhere and he got ahead of me.

I've just finished reading... the last YouTube link was to Queen's performance of "Under Pressure." 

*slow clap*

[day after edit]
We talked. I wanted to give him a hug because he's so lovely. I ended the conversation with a virtual hug and he sent one back, asking if I could feel the warmth (and I wanted to hug him again). I, hands down, won the cards game tonight. Lucky indeed.

Like it ain't no thang

I finally got my diploma on Tuesday. You'd think it would be post-worthy and I would have stopped some time after I got back to write about it, but I didn't. I arranged to meet A, who had asked we meet so she could pay back the money she borrowed when we were out drinking. I made sure to tell CtThumbe and we made plans to meet for lunch. I walked through the tedious bureaucracy with A and met CtThumbe for lunch, as planned, staying a while longer to take pictures and wait for confirmation on whether or not any more paperwork was needed. While we were there, we met several people. Some of them I didn't bother saying hello to, like MusicGuy and ExamGuy. The others included JJ, NtP, and CtW. These encounters went exactly as you'd expect they'd go. What surprised me was A's remark of how "popular" I was, for having said hello to four people. And you know, I realise that back in the day it would have seemed odd to me too, but what startles me the most is the fact that A finds it odd. Big thanks to mum are in order, aren't they? Turns out I'm much nicer and sociable than I make myself out to be, and A is ... challenged.

Seriously, though, I'm a mathematician. That's HUGE. I'm quite proud of myself. Hooray for me, then.

Food art

I had a dream last night where we went to a restaurant (a Czech restaurant, or other eastern European restaurant). They had little trays, the kind where they bring cutlery, made out of lobster shells and they had sculptures made out of French fries following a basic sketch of horseshoe crabs and some other prehistoric-looking animal. I was checking my phone for messages and the waitress said it was rude, asking if I'd like her to take my phone for me, so I gave it to her. We left soon after that and I realised only too late that I was a phone short and had possibly lost my ticket to attend a play (Czech) we were all planning to go to.