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Saturday, 31 August 2013

Of blind dates and a quiet AOB

Had an odd dream last night. Odd in that it was fairly long and convoluted. It started out with being with my parents and my sister in a pool area. My parents had set me up on blind dates with 2 groups of 3-4 men. Most of them I found to be agreeable, easy to talk to and not completely unfortunate looking. I couldn't, however, remember either of their faces or names. The only one that stood out is the one that I couldn't ever be with. He told me he liked to hunt leopard seals for sport and eat them, that they tasted like pork. Don't remember him, only remember his statement and telling myself that was a huge no. (Does it matter if when he told me this we were at sea? As if the pools connected to the sea somehow? And that it was a bit dark and cloudy outside?) Over by the chairs where my parents were was AOB. We'd invited him over for dinner. Mgt and Mrls were there cooking. I thought it was quite a treat to have anything they could cook. Dinner was pasta (the twisted sticks) with mushrooms and other things. When I showed them to AOB he wasn't too excited about it, so we opted to have something else to eat, maybe going out. I'm not how this fits in to the pool story, because he was at the pool, starving, while I was out on my "dates." The old man had offered him a steak from the menu, but something had happened to the waiter who had it and had somehow had an accident. The end result was that AOB went without his food and had skipped a meal to meet me. I told him to come with me and let me buy him a meal to make up for it. He initially refused. I was on my way out with A when we decided to go back and fetch AOB. On the side, I remember talking to AOB about the tango lessons. He asked if he could go, I think. In general, though I couldn't get AOB to talk much. I remember he was quiet even in my dream, much like he is now. 

Friday, 30 August 2013

It was clearer before

Pretty sure I had dreams to write down today but I didn't again. I had this vague notion of how today, or some other morning I'd had this very clear realisation about a pattern in my dreams. I can't remember what it was exactly, I'm afraid. Having said that, I'm venturing a guess because it seems to me now that one of the dreams that fit the pattern was the one where the Phantom and I kissed and there was something or other about cycles involved in the relationship between the dreams. It could all have something to do with the dreams where I try to re-live life as I wish it had happened, with dream-like modifications. I dream about a solution to the warm nights, I dream about getting that one kiss from SmTn and then getting over the whole thing, I dream about the way things would make me happy.

On another note, minus 20 social skills points because I attended the orientation today and not only did I see and not greet the only two people I knew who were there and sat just two seats away from me. Well, I did say hi to one but then not the other (shame on me!) and I didn't dare switch seats when they were talking with some others behind them because I felt wrong taking the other two seats (I didn't know if the people in them would come back... they didn't... I felt left out and like it was wrong to join in their conversation. There's also this weird thing where I think I upset the girl I was helping out somehow, last time we met she seemed upset/annoyed and I wonder if it was something I did). So I ate staring at my plate, randomly looking around and eventually just opting for reading Les Misérables. I'm quite proud to announce I can make sense of 85% of the text and need nothing more than a French dictionary to help me with the rest (5% of which I probably wouldn't know even if I knew more French just because they're quite specific and old-fashioned words). 

Aunt A's spiteful remark of the day came when uncle A asked about the mobile phone he'd like to give me. He asked the other night what phone I had and said he was thinking of changing it for a smartphone (one of the higher end ones), that they were quite cheap now because a new phone is coming out in a bit. I said thank you and offered I'd been looking at others (partly because SmTn had mentioned the one with the impressive camera, partly because they're so much cheaper and those are the ones I could have actually afforded). He told me to look it over and make my mind up. So today he asked and aunt A just had to ask: aren't those expensive? So expensive cousin S couldn't buy one when they first came out a year ago? I explained the circumstances that kept him from buying one and how BCM got hers for a reasonable price. Uncle A pointed out they're much less expensive now and I don't think he would have budged much even if they were expensive. Aunt A's point was loud and clear: "are you spending money on giving her something expensive??" 

Spiteful. I told you.

Quick aside, to end on a less sour note. Victor Hugo is quite a master of imagery. He gave guillotines a personality and it was lovely. Not that his character descriptions are bad (they're great), I'd just never seen such wonderful descriptions of everyday objects. Let me see if I can find the oxymoron I fell in love with... Here! "La sérénité presque violente du moment funèbre." 

*slow clapping*

Thursday, 29 August 2013

There should be a way to keep aunt A away from late night news

For one who thrives in tragedy and feeling sad, especially if it's completely, utterly and absolutely pointless there should be a way to block late night news shows. For aunt A, that is. Fuck, I hate it when she finds tragedies in the news that she wants to discuss because all she wants to say, like it's a very clever thing to say is "it's so sad." No solutions, no information to better understand the problem at hand, just an opinion she thinks is so very intelligent and informed (it was on the news!) "it's so sad...". Worse still is how she wants to make a conversation out of it but any attempt to explain how things could be better and how they're not all that bad and how it's not quite as she saw it on the news yield nothing but "I don't agree. I think it's all very sad." Well, shit. Being sad never solved any fucking problems. Don't want to forgive terrorists we've been at war with for decades? Think the talk of a peace treaty is bullshit because you want them all to be punished? Well, fuck you. That's not how ending a war with a treaty works. You agree to let people back into civilised society and trust them (or most of them) to act civilised because the alternative is a shoot out that will go on costing lives and funds that can't be afforded. Stating the obvious on and on again "they're bad people" doesn't change the fact that you can't stop them from doing bad things by putting them all in jail at the same time or killing them all with military tactics. Don't you think this would have worked out at some point in the last 30 years or so? Must your point of views be so stubbornly archaic? Must you fucking insist bloody everything is a damned tragedy without proposing any kind of action to remedy or alleviate it? Because then I suggest you shut your trap and fucking leave me alone. I was doing fine just now and now I'm all riled up and agonising over the fact that my very first scheduled therapy appointment (the short one where all they do is attempt to get an idea of what I need help with) is on Tuesday. Tuesday. I would have thought they'd have people available at all times for these quick checks and they would have more people available in the first place, but it seems not. What is one to do with tragedy incarnate for four bloody days??

I reckon this deserves a post on its own (haven't been to schedule an appointment yet, in case you're wondering)

I'm hiding out on campus so I don't have to go back just yet. I might stick around for lunch later, just now I ate some of the snacks I'd left in my office (how convenient for present me and how thoughtful of past-me). I didn't even finish breakfast. Before leaving I remembered one of the classrooms for today's classes had changed to a lab and, as all labs require goggles, I thought I'd bring a pair... just in case, even if it was just a class and we had no experiment to do and the experiment likely wouldn't require goggles. I hesitated for a bit before picking a pair but I picked the pair that MrInteresting paid for. Wouldn't be relevant It's probably not relevant at all except for the fact that when I got on the bus I saw him there. I greeted him and moved to one of my usual seats near the back. He actually got up to get his things and sit next to me. We talked a bit and he said he had to study, so I told him I'd better let him study and opted for reading Cyrano de Bergerac (didn't have Les Misérables at that point). Then it gets a bit odd because he didn't actually make it all the way to campus. He waited for the bus with me, and the bus had room for his bicycle, but he didn't get on. He even had to ask which way the university was. If it weren't for a tidbit about the class I'm teaching (which I suppose he could have heard about in conversation with someone else), I would be very certain he just got on the wrong bus and lied his way through the rest of the trip. The alternative is that he'd never made it that far needing to ride his bicycle (unlikely, since it's not his first day). The less plausible but not completely impossible alternative to that is that I've found myself a stalker. A professional one, no less. His mention of how he saw me a couple of months ago walking into a store and walking out but not thinking of saying hi doesn't help matters much. 

Wednesday, 28 August 2013

The last drop (a.k.a. Why I've made up my mind to seek counselling)

Went to university and got back. Nothing unusual about that. I called aunt A when I didn't see her there, wondering if she'd maybe parked elsewhere. She was running late because so many people called her, she said. I knew this to be a blatant lie (it's not like she can't say "Sorry, I'm on my way out, I'll ring you back in a bit." I left it alone because aunt A is a selfish liar and she likes to think she's making herself look great when she lies and pretends he can't ever do wrong. 

Fast forward to a few minutes later when aunt A came to pick me up. I was waiting near the pet store. She honked (very unnecessary, she could have just driven a few more meters forward and turned around, she already knew where to find me). A woman there made a "No." motion with her hand and mouthed the word at her. Aunt A wanted to make a big deal out of it, what could she have possibly been doing wrong and what on Earth was the matter with that woman? I offered honking is not a very nice thing to do as it may upset the animals in the pet store, especially since a lot of them are kept quite close to the entrance. She was adamant this could not be the case and that woman must have thought aunt A was honking at her in which case she had lost her mind because aunt A just wanted to call me. There are doors between the car and the animals at any rate and they couldn't have heard here very well. Not to mention that cars honking obviously don't bother animals at all. I stopped talking after this. 

She asked how my day was and I gave her a short "good." She asked for elaboration, was it a good good day, was it a boring day, was it in any way an unusual (or maybe tragic? she fucking loves tragedy!) day? No, it was just a fucking regular "good" day until she made a part of it. When we got out of the car she said "You're welcome" in that "I'm being a horrible person, can you feel it?! Am I making you upset yet?!?!?!" tone. So I said "Thank you" and made my way to the restroom where it was all I could do to lock myself up and try not to cry, but I ended up crying anyway. I sat on the toilet even though I didn't have to go, I washed my face twice with the not-actually-cool water. I then proceeded to lock myself up in my room and be glad I had a little something to eat because I don't fucking want to leave. 

Remember that ice cream I didn't get? Well, I did get pamphlets, and one of them is for the counselling centre. While they were giving them away hoping to help the possibly misguided/confused LGBT youth and I picked it up because I picked other things up, it had fallen out of my bag earlier and the thought crossed my mind. When I was done having my crisis and I retreated to my room I made up my mind to look it up. It's very unfortunate, really, that they can't let you fill in the form and submit a request for an appointment online, but I reckon they might do it to make sure the people who make appointments actually are committed to the idea of seeking counsel. At any rate, I'll be there tomorrow when I'm done with classes. Here's hoping they're any good at all. And that I don't have to pay. 

Oh, and yesterday night? Aunt A wanted help with her computer because goodness knows what was wrong with it this time but she was certain a horrible virus was in it (that's the only thing ever wrong with computers for her) and it wasn't working as usual (it was very slow and showing some kind of Windows error that prevented the desktop from loading). I offered we could do a quick scan for viruses but it was likely it was just some kind of mismatch between her now ancient operating system and some update or other. The quick scan found nothing. Still seeking tragedy she told me when it was done finding nothing and I ran the full system scan and the disk defragmenter, telling her to leave the computer alone for several hours (possibly the whole night). Around midnight I was already cosy in bed, hugging the frozen water I leave in the freezer every night, surrounded by gel ice packs and having left a bowl full of ice in the room (so it would, if only for a few hours, keep the temperature sort of constant... instead of rising as much... or at least give me the hopes that it would). She knocked on my door and asked if I was asleep yet. I told her I was falling asleep already but it was reason enough for her to open the door and request I look at her computer again. It was done defragmenting and some files had not been moved and she doesn't respect that other people need their sleep and that I'm having miserable enough nights already as it is but HER WORRIES COME FUCKING FIRST. I explained it was fine, to just close the window and leave the antivirus running if it wasn't done yet. I told her to restart the computer after that and see if the problem was fixed. That if it wasn't she might need to reformat the computer and update the operating system. Then I tried to go to sleep (and, of course, it then took me at least 45min longer than it should have). 

Tuesday, 27 August 2013

Social awkwardness: another day in the life

I looked a bit but it doesn't seem I've given him a name yet. OoOB (that's unfortunate) ON is in the office next to mine and will work with me answering students' questions. Pf2 asked us both to be there in today's class to introduce us. I introduced myself to the girl I sat next to, and she introduced herself to me but I can't for the life of me remember her name. *sigh* That's the old man's genes at work, I reckon. 

At any rate... After the introduction was made he and I left to our offices. He's very nice, really. An engineer with the heart of a scientist. He offered to help me if I locked myself out, or lagged behind my peers in the biology/chemistry department. He offered his advice on classes I'm taking and should take in the future. He's just an all around nice guy. So, of course, two things:

1) He sometimes misunderstands me when I speak. I always feel it's my fault for mumblling/mispronouncing/trying to talk faster than I actually can and it leads to minimally awkward situations where I always feel remarkably stupid. Minus ten social skills points.

2) And I exploded excessive honesty on him opening up about how I don't know what I'm doing because I only took this on as an offer that couldn't be refused and... oh, you know. The sort of thing you're not supposed to say. At all. And yet I tell to too many people. And I told it to him, who needed not know (he was fine with me not knowing where I was going because I'm only just beginning but I just had to chime in). Note to self: learn to shut up, would you? Minus fifty social skills points. That's just embarrassing.

Then in the afternoon SmTn was around and we talked for a bit. And then I exploded quarter life crisis and insecurity all over him. Until it was late and he had to go to sleep. Minus thirty social skills points. Here's hoping they don't run out. 


Monday, 26 August 2013

Like a sore thumb

First day of class, work and first day I gather the courage to approach an LGBT table on campus. There was this event I'd read about. They were luring people in with ice cream. I made a mental note of it when I first saw it advertised and made my mind up to go today. Even though I had to walk in the rain and pretty much soak myself to get there. Even though I had to go to class (I left only just on time) and I didn't know if it would rain again. I don't know what I expected, to be honest. There were several tables spread around a ballroom (heh) and you were supposed to walk from one to the other and gather three stamps if you were only there for the ice cream. I was hoping there would be one where they said "Hear, hear! Come one and come all, how would you like to participate in our community?" but found nothing of the sort. Not for a straight girl who stood out like a sore thumb like me. It was all I could do to walk from one desk to another, stand awkwardly, expecting someone to greet me or welcome me, not sure if I wanted to find out about what was being advertised (LGBT in Japan? Christ with LGBT? Friends/Women's studies?/Family of LGBT?*)

I wanted to find a small community of allies (though it seems I got even this bit wrong, the nice young man I asked for directions said I was "gay friendly"). I asked a nice young man who didn't seem too busy how to go about the tables because I felt like a fish out of water... and all he could offer was a beautiful smile. I'm not sure this thing was even meant for people like me to come around. Straights seemed drawn to the Women's studies table... because it's apparently a great thing to have on your résumé for certain majors. They had these awareness tables where they advertised counselling if your partner is abusing you in any way, and they had a well-intended bag of nice messages where you could draw one at random and leave another one behind. I wanted to have something nice to say, and after asking for some help (I had to ask for help to write a nice message for a stranger... ) all I managed was "Remember to smile. You are awesome. Own it." I should bitchslap myself for that one. There was a "can you vote for politicians who agree with us?" desk, too. I may join a three hour training session for what they call a safe zone. It's supposed to mean you're one cool cucumber and anyone from the LGTB community is safe around you because they'll give you so much information in the training, or something like that. While it is a nice way to say "I support you guys!" I'm not 100% sure how it works (or if it works at all). It's just very confusing... 

Can't say I was that much more comfortable in class. Even though we're all from the same programme and studying the same thing for about the same reasons... I can't say I felt like I fit in. Not that the class seems too hard. The professor spent the better part of an hour saying "We work with small things because we want to create changes in small things." He pretended there were more nuances but whenever people offered other reasons, he kept coming back to this. Unless I get my hands on a textbook that can shed some light on the nuances, I will have to rest assured that I just didn't learn much today.

Worse still, I had a horrible realisation today. In the mathematicians can't do maths department, we have the fact that I completely over estimated even the sized down for hours salary. I thought I was getting half of what Pf2 promised. It adds up to about a quarter, actually. Fuck. Fuuuuuuuuck. 

*For the record, it was the least awful sounding of them all, but they had these awful badges with "Gay son!" and the like sprawled all over coloured glitter. Do you go about wearing badges that read "Straight wife!"? Didn't think so. 

Of course, today ends with me finding only. just. now that I've worn my underwear the wrong way all day. All bloody day. Brilliant.

Sunday, 25 August 2013

In case three posts today weren't enough

I was talking to mum, aunt MT and the others on Skype when aunt A walked into my room and asked if I wanted something to eat and why I hadn't left my room all day (what does she care? she was out in the afternoon). She left. A while later she walked in requesting that I hang up so she can call them because if she speaks from my room at a chilly 26ºC she would get a sore throat. I pointed out to her that the temperature is not in fact cold with an actual thermometer but she feels cold so it MUST be cold and I do declare the cases where someone got a sore throat from moving wind below tornado speeds at 26ºC in the last 10 years can be counted with my fingers. She sits right where the air conditioning (and much cooler than 26ºC) vent blows in the living room and she doesn't have a problem with that. She's being absolutely fucking ridiculous! Request that I stop talking to my parents like she has something so much more important to talk about with them, and to come up with such a fucking stupid excuse to tell me to do so is just infuriating. Infuriating, I tell you! And cooler temperatures are nowhere to be seen in the next month or so. Fuuuuuuuuuck.

Social awkwardness: a day in the life

So... facebook tells me it's CtW's birthday today. I feel like I should send her a happy birthday, but I'll be damned if I can think of something to say. 

Hello. Just dropping by to wish you a happy birthday. :)

Hello. Just dropped by to wish you a happy birthday. :)

Hello. Happy birthday! :)

Happy birthday!

Hello. Facebook tells me it's your birthday. Happy birthday!

Hello. Just dropping by to wish you a good day and a happy birthday. :)

Hello. How is everything going? I stopped by to wish you a happy birthday.

You get the gist of it.

Appalling trend

I was going over some old posts when I fell upon posts I almost could not remember writing. They're old posts pre-LesMisGuy kiss and in them I was willing to have any kind of contact with him at all, even if it stopped at a one night stand and it meant absolutely nothing. Well, I claimed I was willing, I realise that can't have been a 100% true statement given the way things turned out. What it boils down to, given I remember having similar thoughts about D, is that I was desperate enough to be willing to trade my body for the chance to create an illusion of happiness with them. It's a bit more than that, actually. I tried to convince myself that all I wanted was the closeness and the action, completely ignoring the fact that by the time I want to be intimate with someone I'm already head over heels for them. Up until we kissed, LesMisGuy had no obligation to me. When we kissed nothing changed, but I believed it had even though I'd stated the opposite before. It's fucked up, is what it is. This is why I could never come out of a friends with benefits situation unscathed. 

Want to know what's also fucked up? I should not feel embarrassed to have a reasonably well functioning circulatory system and feeling too hot. I should not feel embarrassed to be using the power of science to try to make my room less warm. And yet that's what aunt A does to me. Fuck this. I need a fucking air conditioner... FFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUU

This is what bad sleeping does to you

I remember two dreams from last night. In one I'd had enough of the heat not letting me sleep and I'd come up with a solution: I'd just go to the first floor of the house, where I knew there was an air conditioning unit right above a sofa-bed. Problem? I was remembering the house where we lived by the beach. Very frustrating, when you feel so hot in your sleep your sleep you tries to find a solution to it. I, of course, woke up feeling too hot and was disappointed at not having an extra air conditioning unit anywhere. *sigh* I need my first paycheck...

There's another dream where, again, I borrowed from reality. I clench my teeth at nigh. So much and so badly I've ground my molars flat and sensitive. I've chipped small holes in them too. Well, I dreamed that I chipped big bits off and walked around looking for a doctor. I was oddly enough in school, except I didn't recognise anyone there. A girl who would have sat near me told me to go to a certain doctor, so I went to him. Can't remember a thing he said, or even talking to him. I do seem to remember the old school1 cafeteria and lunch. I'd been there earlier and I'd picked up my lunch to avoid the queue during lunch time, but I'd misplaced the bag with my lunch. At the same time, I was looking for a cartoon dog (Snoopy, no less) and someone/something else. I'd tried drawing something for them to come to me, but it hadn't worked. When I walked by the first graders' classroom a little boy helped me find them. Then there's also something about riding the bus. There were lots of us and they had to stop in the middle of the road for us to switch buses. Rather than just sending the extra to the other bus, they had us switch buses entirely (which made no sense to me). I remember A being there.

Saturday, 24 August 2013

It appears my unconscious has a better mind than me

Don't remember much about my dream from last night, and it's not only because it's so late to only just now write about it. I didn't remember more when I first woke up, promise. Why do I feel like I owe it to you to tell you something I don't remember...?

The dream. The dream in question is one where I'm in the set for a reality show about models. The fashion photographer (a woman, if it's worth pointing out) really liked my look and she asked me to pose lying down on my side (legs a little bent, head propped up on my hand, looking at the camera through sleepy eyes). I fumbled about with my glasses, fully aware of how foolish I must have looked, wondering even as I was being photographed if this silly photographer didn't realise I had so many imperfections models aren't supposed to have. She was thrilled, though, and was convinced that if she could get a good picture of me then and there, I could easily prove myself as better than all the other models in the show. It would appear she was right, because I then remember telling my chemist acquaintance (why her? I'll never know...) about it through chat and it seemed unbelievable even then. 

So... I'm ugly, except when someone in my dreams tells me I'm actually stunning and then I suddenly think I might look all right after all. Go figure.

Unrelated: racism. Aunt A made a remark today about some black person with beautiful features. I told her beautiful and ugly people came in all colours. She insisted because the underlying idea behind her remark was that black people are somehow inherently ugly and thus it's worthwhile pointing out the ones with Greek/Roman statue features and light coloured eyes. She used this as a chance to show off how much she knows about black people because she lived in an area where they're a majority and someone explained to her that they're not all alike because in different parts of Africa lived different types of black people... the same way in different parts of Europe lived different types of white people. At this point I stopped talking because to call her a racist would have just opened a nasty can of worms. 

Also unrelated, but it's getting on my nerves: why is it that Americans can't tell the difference between being Hispanic and being a certain race? Hispanic is not a race. Hispanic means you belong to a culture of Spanish speaking people. Ignorance thinks Latino always looks a certain way and it's just wrong. Especially because the Spaniards got mixed with the natives and the slaves and virtually all Latinamericans are a heterogeneous mixture of the three, it's downright stupid trying to pin you down anywhere. Also, being Hispanic does not make you Spanish. You are only Spanish if you call Spain your home country and even then you probably only consider yourself Spanish if you're from the Madrid area. Even if you're mostly white (i.e. your ancestors are mostly pirates) you are not actually Spanish. There's no such thing as being Spanish and 100% white, I daresay, because the Spanish were already such an odd mixture of moors (read: Arabs), gypsies (read: Indian people), gauls, celts... In this day and age, not all people marry and have children within their race, so these stupid boxes they try to put you in make ever less sense...

Thursday, 22 August 2013

In a world like this

Is that a reference to the new song by the Backstreet Boys? Absolutely. What can I say, I have a soft spot for boy bands. I thought now would be a time as good as any to put together nice things that made me smile, for the sake of balance. I've been collecting them (gotta catch'em all!) for about 3 months now. 

1) At an amusement park I stopped to ask a lady at a food stand for directions. While I was still there a man walked over to us and asked for clarification on something, stating that his boyfriend had a theory he wanted to test. And the world didn't burn with the fires of Hell itself, nor did it crumble to pieces. The lady at the food stand just answered his question.

2) My sister and I saw a gay couple shopping for groceries with their baby. They were just so fucking excited to have a baby and looked like they'd make great parents. And the world was a beautiful place. 

3) I had no money except for what was left in a gift credit card, which I didn't know the balance of. I had lunch on campus because I had to stay longer than anticipated and made my way to buy lunch. I first tested the card with a chocolate, and it went through. When I tried to pay for lunch there was not enough money left. What should have been a very embarrassing moment with me fumbling for coins trying to make up the difference was made dramatically less tragic because the girl at the cash register made sure I got an incredible discount so I could afford lunch. Bless her.

4) At a hotel's pool with my sister and cousin S's girlfriend we started playing volleyball hit the ball over the net. Next to us a dad and his children were playing volleyball. The balls kept going stray, so we decided to make mixed teams and play. More and more people joined, of all ages. It didn't matter how well anyone played, and we didn't have any rules beyond "help the littlest ones" and "just hit the ball." We switched teams, we didn't keep score. We played for hours. And it was lovely.

Prejudice: pets

I have a prejudice to declare: people who are not nice to pets have dark spots in their souls. I'm sorry, but I just can't think you're a good person if you can't have the decency to be nice to animals. If you can run over someone's pet (it's bad enough with random animals out on the street) without blinking an eye and go about your merry way then fuck you. You don't deserve to live. But even in the smaller cases when it's just a friendly dog doing nothing more than walking over to you excitedly and sniffing you that makes you mad, mad enough to kick the dog, I don't like you. That goes out to you LC4. That goes out to you, aunt A yelling at the dog to be quiet. That goes to you, uncle C and aunt B giving nasty looks to the dog for walking near you. If I do say so myself, she's come a long way since I first got here. She can be inside the house. She will not try to steal food from your hands. She knows better than to jump at people, no matter how excited she is and will listen if she forgets and you just say "No." 

Wednesday, 21 August 2013

For the record, I'm not a very good spy

SmTn was online today. It's now been months since his last e-mail... Nevertheless, he wanted to thank me for his birthday present and we talked a bit. Nothing much unusual about him saying he should go to sleep and only really going to sleep a half hour later, but when I told him to have sweet dreams of birthday cakes he mentioned in a "oh, by the way..." way that he'd had a dream about me. Or that I'd been in a dream of his one of these days. I had half a mind not to ask but I did anyway: what did I do in his dream? He said he didn't remember, that he thought I was probably wearing a dark suit like I was in the last picture of me I sent him (not so, the last picture I sent him had me in a flowery dress). Something about it felt a bit made up... I spy with my third eye a white little lie... But I really shouldn't make anything of it, so I'll end this here. 

Tuesday, 20 August 2013

Of how putting water in the kitty's bowl made me a bad person (a.k.a. Mental illness is a terrible thing)

Uncle C and aunt B were here for lunch. I helped set the table, re-heat the potatoes, and set uncle C and aunt B up with something to drink (sparkling water). Aunt A was busy setting up lunch for uncle A. Mind you, she doesn't usually have anything to drink with lunch. The cat walked by the kitchen, checked her bowls and left. I noticed her and noticed she had no water, so I got up, filled a small glass of water and put it in her bowl. Because I talk to animals, I said "Want water, cat? Here you go." I even stopped after pouring the water in to see if she was around and called her name. Fast forward 10-15min and aunt A walks over to the stove and exclaims "I thought you'd left some water here to boil!" I was a bit confused so I just pointed out I'd put water in the cat's bowl. You wouldn't believe her level of indignation when she said "Of course! You give the cat water, but you never think of asking me if I want a drink!" Excuse me? She misunderstands me, even though I think it's clear enough all I was doing was giving kitty-cat some water, and builds upon her misunderstanding, feeling entitled to hot water I not only didn't offer but had no idea she expected. And she throws a poisonous remark like that. Because I'm the evil one. For noticing kitty had no water at all to drink. It's not my cat, I could do nothing at all for the cat or the dog. I help out a bit with them anyway and that somehow makes me a bad person.

Well, here's news for you: mental illness, stubborn old age and stinginess do not mix well. You shouldn't be allowed to keep pets if you refuse to take them to the vet when they're visibly unwell and continue to bring up excuses to avoid giving them proper treatment. Goes for aunt A and uncle A alike. You didn't study medicine and "past experience" with other dogs over 10 years sago does not qualify you to say you know exactly what's wrong with your pets and still do absolutely nothing about it because all that could be done 10 years ago was give them pain killers and you refuse to get even a prescription for them. Because it's so expensive and vets are clearly out to steal from you and uncle A says it's just a lizard the dog ate that keeps her whimpering continuously. Excuses. Bad excuses at that. You say the last dog was small and that's why you bathed him and took him to the vet regularly. I know you resent this dog but it's no reason to treat her the way you do. You don't even bother with the cat you chose (and then regretted getting). I offer to help in taking her to the vet and the problem then is that uncle A disapproves of vets. I ask if there's maybe a way to just get some non-prescription medicine for her at the pet store but it's out of the question. Vets are out to steal your money and kill your pets! Why is there no room for reason in all this?

Because: mental illness. Just this morning aunt A was up before dawn saying she was so incredibly sick she absolutely had to go to the emergency room and needed immediate medical attention. Uncle A told her to go by herself, while it was still dark, even though aunt A can't see very well in the dark. You have to admit it's not very smart from either part. The worst part of this is that I'm positive she's not that sick and she made herself a lot sicker on purpose trying to cough her lungs out until her larynx was inflamed and then compounding the pain and pretending every time she swallowed saliva and it went the wrong way she was just getting so much worse from her illness. *sigh* But I can't say a thing because then I'll just be the insensitive one who couldn't care less if she drops dead and I must absolutely want her to die. Can't tell her to eat healthy, can't tell her to exercise properly, can't tell her not to be lazy, can't tell her to be reasonable and less alarmed by her unreasonable explanations to the simplest situations, can't tell her the information provided on the internet in the one website she looked at is not necessarily a universal truth, can't tell her that the thing she saw happen once in this one late night programme is enough reason to worry about worst case scenarios every. single. time. What can I do when I'm already walking on eggshells all the time and even that fails? What can I do when I try to keep quiet but on occasion say the wrong thing? What can I do when I say something completely inconspicuous and it's still source of wrongdoing?

Write it down in the blog, apparently. It's all I can fucking do.

Monday, 19 August 2013


It's been a week since I last heard from AOB. Facebook kindly lets me know he hasn't even read my bad joke. The message I want to send now is very serious, possibly too serious: "You didn't do something stupid, did you?"

Friday, 16 August 2013

Things I hate about myself

I do realise this isn't exactly prescription medication for someone with self-esteem and insecurity issues. But I'd been meaning to get a few of these down in the blog at some point or another for a while now, just listed under the "fun facts" label. For no good reason, I suppose.

1) I'm insecure. As fuck. (but it's kind of hard to fuck if you're that insecure... no, wait, you can fuck, it's just likely to keep you from enjoying it...) As a very unfulfilling shag. (Not sure I did a very good job there, with the analogy...)

2) I can't forgive myself for making mistakes: 
 - I can't forgive myself for losing things, 
 - I can't forgive myself for botching exam questions I actually knew the answers to or were too easy,
 - I look back at old posts, find glaring spelling/grammar mistakes I know for a fact no one has seen and I feel ashamed of myself,
 - I will take a mistake to its ultimate consequences, both to pretend I can get away with no one knowing it was a mistake and as self-inflicted punishment (e.g. If I get off at the wrong bus stop and the one I wanted is far away I'll bloody walk there.)
 - I am debating with myself about the use of commas in this list (see item above),
 - I can't forgive myself for having stretch marks, cellulite and acne scars which could have been avoided altogether with proper beauty regimes,
 - I can't forgive myself for doing anything embarrassing (ever),
 and.. have you noticed that just about anything can make me feel embarrassed?

3) I have a tendency to blame everything on myself, whether it's my fault or not.

4) In conversation I will far too often start sentences and not end them, e.g. "Is it because of ____ or...?" I am very aware of it and I sometimes try to finish the sentence but I almost never do and I reproach myself for it.

5) My nose doesn't grow straight out (to the imaginary line smack in the middle of my eyes) but to the left. I was blissfully unaware of this fact until I first looked at myself through my laptop's camera. I hate asymmetry.

6) I'm horrible to have proper conversations with. I say stupid things, I don't listen/forget what was just said, my mind goes blank, I bring up inappropriate subjects, I make bad associations and try too hard to be funny. And I start sentences without finishing them. I hate that. Hate. it.

7) I'm an obsessive overthinker of everything related to interpersonal relationships. You've probably picked up on that if you've read my previous posts.

8) I develop the stupidest superstitions and assign meaning to things I know have none. I remember (worse yet, I cherish) dates/events/words/random bits of trash and try to hold them accountable for making my life move forward in a pleasant direction.

 9) I take pride in being fairly smart but don't know or understand so very many things I should/am expected to.

10) I impulsively try to fix cock ups by acting first (often worsening the situation), and asking questions later.

11) I'm proud to the point where it's stupid.

12) I procrastinate so much and, though I make a point of keeping my word to others, fail to fulfil even the simplest promises I make myself (e.g. "I'll floss my teeth every day," "I'll use this moisturising lotion on my body every day," "I'll exercise regularly," "I won't eat the candy.")

I suppose at this point (or whenever I really am done writing this list, I've put of writing these lines at least three times and then hesitated, wondering whether or not 12 was a nice enough number to end this list with) I should try to balance things out a bit. Very cliché, I know. I've been known to host pity parties and I'll admit this is one of them, but I wouldn't be very happy with myself if I didn't at least attempt to write things I like about myself. Even if I know they won't be nearly as many as the things I hate about myself.

1) I'm quite proud of my liberal mindset. I'm proud about my stance in major issues like gay marriage, abortion, euthanasia, gun control, the legalisation of drugs and the like. I'm especially proud of being able to distinguish between what's allowed for everyone and what I will do with what's allowed (e.g. I believe in making abortion legal, I don't think I could forgive myself for getting one.) This includes my relative open mindedness when it comes to sex.

2) I like my green eyes, even if I wish they were somehow greener/a brighter shade of green. Even if I too often wonder if they're not actually hazel and then try to convince myself that they're really green, just so I can get away with having a rare eye colour.

3) I'm usually quite good at reading people.

4) I like being brutally honest when it's not also brutally inappropriate.

5) I'm proud of the fact that I believe in science and in reason and will, on principle alone, try to tame my emotions through the power of thinking.

6) I like the overall silhouette of my body. Yes, I'd like to lose weight and have thinner thighs and more toned muscles and not have wobbly bits, cellulite, stretch marks, spider veins or scars of any kind... but I look pretty decent in clothes. 

7) If I make promises to others, I will 9 times out of 10 keep my word. This includes being punctual. I reward myself for punctuality.

8) I'm quite useful and resourceful. I can cook, I can clean, I could do some building/home improvement (even if it gave me blisters), I can do my own make-up and nails, I can sow and knit a bit, I am/used to be half good at arts and crafts.

9) I'm a fast learner when it comes to learning languages.

I think I've surprised myself. Didn't think I'd make it past 6. Well, there you go. The more you know.

Thursday, 15 August 2013

Not sure what to make of it.

It's fairly late to write it down but I might as well before I forget altogether. I had a dream the night before last (well, that morning, actually... didn't sleep too well). It involved this chemistry student. He somehow knew LesMisGuy and he told me that both of them (once?) had crushes on me. I vaguely have this notion that he was somehow jealous of LesMisGuy... 

Wednesday, 14 August 2013

Cut out the shit, aunt A! You have NO right!

Cleaning lady is here. Aunt A is feeling very self-righteous telling her what temperature to set her air conditioning at during the night (she prefers a cooler temperature... just like fucking everyone except aunt A) and aunt A is all "Oh, but you're wasting energy! It must be costing you so much! This low temperature is actually bad for the air conditioning system!" What does she fucking know?! Why does she preach such bollocks and pretends that feeling comfortable at cooler temperatures (especially to sleep!) is somehow wrong because it's not what she prefers? There is such a thing as scientist who study thermal comfort and she'd be surprised to find she's in a minority. She'd be surprised to find that her preferences are not the rule for what is good for everyone else. If she were so concerned about wasting money I can think of so many ways she's wasting it (buying clothes and make-up she doesn't need, anyone?) that would well pay for the slightly lower temperatures in the house. It just puts me in a fit, this! She's a real life internet troll except for the part where internet trolls are mostly aware of how they're sparking fury by making their statements and do so on purpose (not necessarily believing them). Aunt A is all about causing conflict where only she sees it and belittling those who think and feel differently from her. What is her business telling the cleaning lady what to do with her money as far as thermal comfort is concerned? If she likes to sleep at a cooler temperature, then let her! I'm sure she weighed the comfort's worth more than whatever money she might be saving (not all that much, actually). 

Just... fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck! It angers me so!

I want to buy my own portable air conditioner and it will be the ultimate act of rebellion because aunt A will not shut her trap about it. She'll call me wasteful and tell me I'll be wasting all her energies and spiking all her energy bills that she doesn't even pay and all for comfort she doesn't believe in! Bureaucracy!!! Why are you making my first paycheck so late?? Paycheck... where are you?!

Oh, and, by the way... the thing that started this conversation is the fact that aunt A is sick. I daresay this is part psychological and 100% her fault. She makes herself sick, especially when uncle A is away. She's blaming it on having been in too cool temperatures in meetings she willingly attended and didn't think to bring a scarf to. That's not how the cold works, or else no one could ever speak in cold climates. The cold on its own can't make people sick. That's a myth. The cold can lower your defences, but it's a bad immune system and exposure to a virus that will make you sick. Not the temperature. So she really can't fucking argue that a cool house is making her sick. That is just NOT TRUE. Want to know what contributes to exposure to a virus? Bad hygiene, like hers. She closes her hand into a fist and coughs on it. Does she feel very elegant? Because she's certainly not very polite in doing so, it spreads the virus even more. She should cough into her elbow, like it's recommended, or at least carry tissue papers to cough into and then THROW IN THE BIN. She carries around dirty tissue papers in her purse. She doesn't wash her hands so very often (no matter how she pretends this isn't so). She doesn't have much control over her bad immune system but she doesn't help it either and refuses tried and proved home remedies because she doesn't like them and doesn't feel like trying, so she continues to be sick (which I believe is actually her purpose, whether she realises it or not). 

AAAAAaaaaAAAaaaAAaAaGgGHGhGHHGGHGGGgHhhggghhhhHHHHHhHH!!! It's a bad day to live in the house of crazy.

Monday, 12 August 2013


I want to take up French lessons again...

Still procrastinating... And finding myself somewhat obsessed with French culture (read: Les Misérables, book and musical, French music, LesMisGuy... yes, LesMisGuy). 

I haven't studied one. bit. And here I am, still thinking of LesMisGuy, fascinated with Éponine, wanting to read Les Misérables and stopping every time I'm about to start thinking I should read those bloody papers instead but doing neither because... have I mentioned I've been thinking of LesMisGuy? I can't stand myself, can't blame you if you think this obsession makes me insufferable. Thought of the day, in case you were wondering is this: "would he have asked me what I make of cheaters if he didn't think of maybe being my boyfriend?" The conclusion is the same as always, I'm incorrigible and why would he have wanted to be with me anyway? But... what if at some point he did? Well, in the back of my head it means I made an even worse impression that I had thought up to this moment. Welcome to my pity party! Restroom's in the back, last door on your left.

Soundtrack of the day (and possibly yesterday too): "On My Own" as sung by Samantha Barks.

Side note: I'm a little worried about AOB.

Sunday, 11 August 2013

For fuck's sake! It's SCIENCE!

I'm in the living room attempting to watch films when aunt A walks in. She's furious because they kept her at too-cold-for-her-comfort temperatures at places she willingly walked into. None of my bloody business. Rather than understand most other people prefer cooler temperatures, she of course mocks them and ridicules their tastes like we're the ones with a problem. Today she's playing sick. Since it's too damned hot, I had turned the fan on because fuck if I'll get into an argument if I try lowering the temperature when I'm by my fucking self. She's sure to think I'm WASTING THE ALL THE ENERGIES!!! and SPENDING ALL HER MONIES!!! She walks in and says it's freezing fucking cold in the living room. It's fucking not. The air is moving, for a change, but it's no fucking colder than the thermostat allows. That's how fans fucking work. They move air. They have no inherent ability to lower the temperature of the air. The whole reason they cool is because air around you gets to move instead of warming up with your body heat and sticking around making you uncomfortable. I tried to explain this but aunt A thinks that since she feels cold then they obviously cool the air, why-would-I-argue-otherwise? I tell her my room reaches temperatures of 27ºC even when I'm running both fans and the living room temperature reads whatever else. I explain that the thermostat doesn't read the temperature in my room, only the living room, and that when the sun hits the room, with it being pretty small and having a low ceiling (compared to the living room, where hot air can rise and stay put), it's not only perfectly possible but it happens on a regular fucking basis. It's the stuff that wakes me up and keeps me from having a full night's sleep, but what would she fucking know?

Where's my first paycheck? Where? Can I start working already, please? Can I buy my own portable air conditioner so I can sleep in peace? Can I not have to argue science with the resident crazy person? Please?!

Saturday, 10 August 2013

The postcard that wasn't

I meant to write something clever, witty, thoughtful or at the very least interesting. I don't even remember what I wrote, but it took me far too long and I think all I managed to come up with was something along the lines of 

Hello, and greetings to you from the place of my trip. Today was great. I couldn't ask for more, except, perhaps, the weather (and maybe having you for company, too? so inappropriate). Sweaty hugs from me too because I can't think of anything else to say. (Sorry I didn't mail this from the place I bought the postcard from. I know it defeats the purpose if I send the postcard a month late from the wrong place. Postcards and procrastination don't mix very well.) 


I'm terrible at this. Terrible.

This is my upbringing speaking up

So... I'm talking to SmTn who's telling me (for the second time) about his cooking adventures when he has oh-so-few groceries available to him and I can't stop thinking: "Fine, then he was too lazy to stop at a grocery store and he hasn't helped clean the kitchen for at least a year so he didn't notice the expired bottle of cooking oil but... how come his girlfriend din't either??"

Where I come from this is all a woman's job, a mum's job and I'm proud of him for being a citizen of the twenty first century. But it's a relationship... aren't they supposed to share these chores if they live together? Wouldn't she worry that there are no groceries, or that there's an expired bottle of cooking oil? What does she eat, anyway? Maybe if they were in their twenties... but they're not! Isn't it all very bizarre??

Still in the land of the bizarre, though... how is he too lazy to buy groceries? He's all grown up! Or isn't he? This is just so... weird. I highly doubt he's so tight in money he can't buy groceries (he can afford to toy with electronics and go to concerts). Can any one person really be that lazy? Which begs the question... can two such people be so very lazy? Do you suppose they eat take out that often? Even so... It's just so strange to hear of a house without groceries... 

Thursday, 8 August 2013

I suck at postcards

Well, this is doubly embarrassing... I meant to add a new font to Blogger (a handwritten font) and failed spectacularly, possibly ruining the original template I had in the process of fumbling about with HTML code. Fuck.

The whole reason I wanted to write a post (and, goodness, it's late!) is that I have absolutely no idea what to write in SmTn's postcard. Sending a postcard from my trip this late in the game, and from anywhere but the place the postcard is from really defeats the purpose of sending it in the first place. Even more so if I can't think of anything to write and have to do so after the fact, trying different combinations on a blog post before settling for something to write down by hand. All I've written (and I hope I didn't fuck that bit up) is SmTn's address. With my luck, even though I used his postcard as a template, it's likely enough I ended up using the wrong side of the postcard for the address, it's likely enough I used up space meant for the stamp or some form of protocol mark or other (it appears to me he wrote around these). 

As it stands, I have written nothing on the postcard, very little of worth in my notebook (I can't really write for SmTn what I already did for AOB, how shameless!), I can't decide on whether or not to send a hug with my greetings (how appropriate or not is it?), I can't make up my mind on how much to write or even where to write it. It's to remain that way, though, because I have to wake up kind of early tomorrow and I'm already late because I can't keep putting off mailing SmTn's postcard like I'm putting off doing everything else. 

Wednesday, 7 August 2013

New levels of procrastination

I'm a woman of my word, except for the times when I promise myself (or others) I'll do some kind of work where procrastination can get in the way. Each and every single time I'll give in and procrastinate. That's just what it is.

So, even though I should be researching and reading and preparing questions so I'll know what the fuck I'm doing when I start working with Pf2 (because it's now clear he has absolutely no idea what it is I'm supposed to be doing beyond "make sense of his numbers"), I find myself finding other things to amuse myself with. Besides the obvious daydreaming, dreaming-and-forgetting-to-write-down-the-dreams (all I remember now from last night's dreams was a small-ish dinosaur, perhaps a velociraptor, wanting to eat me... my sister and I were supposed to take it for a walk but it insisted on nibbling and biting me, so I threw a hen at it, we ran and "trapped" it as best we could before running to get help), there's music. Namely, Les Misérables. Still. I took the time to watch the 2012 film this afternoon and I'm contemplating watching it again or watching Cyrano de Bergerac before going to sleep. I ended up deciding I just might take up reading the book. In French, no less. It will take forever (or it should, at any rate) and yet I'd rather do that than study or do anything productive. I actually forced myself to open the publications I'm supposed to study and start reading and highlighting them... only to come to the blog and write about how little I'm getting done. Through insanely long sentences, at that. Sorry about those first two in this paragraph, but I found myself about to throw in a period when I realised I wasn't quite done with the clause and by the time I was done... well, the sentence was just too long and I can't be bothered to go back and shorten them.

I'm in a talkative mood. The kind it's awful to have when you have no one to talk to. I won't attempt to talk to EBF, I learned my lesson. I've no interest in talking to A, and AOB is off the radar, as far as I can tell. So is CtThumbe. I haven't heard from N1 since... goodness, it's been months. Even talking to CtW, finding out how she's doing with her ever-so-pretty subject for a thesis would be fun. Not quite in the mood for that, though. I sort of wish I could talk to SmTn but I'm almost too embarrassed to, after the whole technological faux pas and no longer being able to tell when he's online and available to talk and when he's just "online." Not to mention... it's now starting to seem like forever since his last e-mail. It could just be this crippling self-esteem of mine, but it feels a bit like he doesn't really want to talk to me and only comes out to talk to me a few days after I've written him a shy "Hi, I'm alive... here's what I've been up to... " e-mail like I'm somehow guilting him into it. Don't I just want to live under a rock and make friends with the shadows there? I'd at least get used to the silence or somehow learn to communicate with it. It wouldn't matter then if I went mad. What would the shadows care?

Tuesday, 6 August 2013

And here I am, caring because I'm pretending to care

Well, fuck it. 

You all probably know I'm prone to bouts of talking to EBF. This time it started with AOB having left a message to thank me. I answered but he wasn't around. The not-so-obviously (il)logical thing to do was recycle a message I'd left AOB (just a link to a YouTube video) and send it to EBF. My message met a "what?" and a "by the way, I broke up with N2 about a month ago."

The "right" thing to do then was to worry, or at least pretend to care enough to worry (even though by now I frankly do not give a flying fuck). So I ask how he's doing and find he shares nothing in common with the person I called my best friend except for his name. He still won't tell me how he's doing, unless that's it in the message he just sent in after... oh, I don't know... maybe a half hour of one-liners? 

Fuck this. Just fuck it. Whatever took over me, urging and begging me to talk to him? What for? Don't I ever learn?

Oh, and, by the way, I was on this amazing trip, mere centimetres and decades away from genius. And, by the way, you didn't really consider coming here. And, by the way, you've lost your mind. And, by the way, I think I'm clinically depressed. And, by the way, have you noticed we're not really friends anymore? And, by the way, could you help me figure out what the fuck is wrong with me that I can't quite get the hint?

He's ok? Fine. I don't think I have anything more to say. 

Fuck it.

Film reviews

How one thing leads to another: I get an e-mail from Quora and I click on the least interesting article possible only because a celebrity appeared to have written on it and it seemed odd enough I thought I'd check if it was really them. Next thing you know I'm watching Wilde because I just had to and if that's not reason enough, because: Stephen Fry. It's a rather beautiful film, and I find it to be sadly current with its theme of homophobia. I'm saddened to find out through the film that this brilliant and wonderful man had such an end. I'm not so much sad that he made all of these foolish decisions just because of character-Bosie (I know not if real-life Bosie had such a hold over him), everyone (even if they're smart) is allowed foolishness in the name of love. Oh, how the good die young... I already loved him before, but I love Stephen Fry even more. It seems I'd only seen him in secondary roles up until now and he really had a chance to act this time. Plus, I just adore his voice. There are few things more wonderful than Oscar Wilde's lines read by Stephen Fry. 

I believe another film review is pending for Girl Most Likely. Admittedly, I watched it just for Darren Criss and walked in knowing it had very poor reviews (we would have almost ended up watching Despicable Me 2 again that day). Maybe it's because I thought it would be dreadful that I didn't find it to be half as bad as the reviews stated. True, it starts out a little cliché, turns quirky-cliché and then a tiny bit ridiculous, but pleasantly so (for me, at any rate). It's about true happiness and about self-fulfilment, about not making quick judgement and seeing things for what they truly are. All through whimsy.

For the last few days I've had songs from Les Misérables stuck in my head. Pretty much all of them. Part of it may be to blame on having watched the 25th anniversary special. I came out of it glad that the 2012 film is so good, hating Russel Crowe's performance a little more, loving Samantha Barks and Ramin Karimloo a little more. It's a shame they had this horrible set up where all actors sang straight at the audience and into a microphone on a stand, because even the most intense dialogues are lost that way. Even if the actors were singers rather than actors (except, perhaps, for Samantha Barks, Alfie Boe, and Ramin Karimloo) it's really a pity to ruin the drama of it all by faulty planning. At least the main characters should have had some of those attached microphones, wouldn't you agree?

Monday, 5 August 2013

Damn it, Microsoft!

Admittedly, this makes me far more angry than it has any good reason to, but it makes me furious! So... mum called on Skype, uncle C and aunt B were here with LC4 and while I'm stuck talking to aunt B hearing aunt B it turns out SmTn had tried to start a conversation in the tab I'd left open. He said he had someplace interesting to go and he had to go to sleep after a while because I didn't get back to him. Several problems that bring me endless frustration:

1) Why doesn't the chat have some form of signal so I can know that I'm being talked to? The tab could blink, there could be some kind of sound, there could be a message of some kind... anything!

2) Why doesn't the chat save the conversations? It used to, apparently, but I went to save the conversation and look up whatever SmTn was going to do so we could talk about it later and I accidentally closed the tab, which forever deleted the whole bloody conversation because outlook won't save them and fucking Chrome won't warn you when you're about to close multiple tabs.

3) Why doesn't Chrome warn you when you're closing multiple tabs? Every other bloody explorer allows it! What could possibly be so hard about building the feature into Chrome, knowing it brings so many so much frustration, if it can be made into an extension (by Google, no less)? Just... UGH!

I would have checked to see if maybe the messages saved somewhere in Skype but... mother of all things, Microsoft!

4) Even though my Microsoft and Skype accounts are merged, if my computer opts to log in from Skype it won't show the bloody Microsoft contacts! What could be so hard? If the accounts are fucking merged then fucking merge them! If I've merged my Microsoft account to my Skype account, why can't Skype show me my Microsoft contacts when I log in through Skype, why?!

Sorry. I needed to vent. Still unreasonably furious with Microsoft. Loyal user, cavewoman that I am, but damn it, it's far from practical.

Sunday, 4 August 2013

Écoutez, les Gascons, c'est toute la Gascogne!

It's mum's birthday today (well sort of... if she was born on midnight it's somewhere between yesterday and today but they celebrated it today). We were on Skype when they sang her a happy birthday. I tried to sing along, felt ridiculous and quickly enough teared up and couldn't go on singing. They were so damned joyous over there. I'll be there in December. I'll be there in December... If all goes well, I should be able to see aunt MT in September (just next month! Imagine that!) and it just might be enough to help me last through what's left of the year... 

Friday, 2 August 2013


Last night I had a dream where my sister and I travelled together. I remember us flying over a volcano in the middle of the sea which, for some reason or other, caused this large, rainbow-shaped cloud over it to turn the most amazingly bright colours. I think I asked her if she'd seen it, and whether she'd taken pictures of it. I later remember trying to find it online from its name (something asian-sounding). I remember us carrying suitcases full of groceries and there being ants in one of our bags. I also seem to remember an old house with lots of rooms (not unlike a hotel, I suppose) where my parents' friend's wife was cooking and we helped her. Mostly, I remember worrying: "do I have my documents with me?", "will they stop us in customs?", "I don't want to get in trouble."

Unrelated, it was bothering me. So much so I wasted at least two hours last night before falling asleep looking for it. So much so I woke up thinking of a new place to look for it. Remember how in my last exchange with EBF there was something I almost showed him and then didn't? Well, why would you? I only mentioned it ever so quickly and never said what it was. Until a while ago, I'd completely forgotten what it was myself but a few days ago I decided I wanted to say a variation of it to AOB but just couldn't find it. I ended up writing something else for him but couldn't leave it alone. You can decide if it's worth the trouble or not:

"Whenever you see half of something,"

Thursday, 1 August 2013

Why do they have to take a good thing and make it bad? WHy?!?

So... through apparently-not-enough trouble, I have tickets to visit my family during the Christmas holidays. I'd said nothing because that's what we'd agreed on. Since aunt A started talking about how I had to start looking into tickets to go there, I spoke with mum and then told her it had been arranged. Oh, but we arranged it wrong! I tell her I'll sort it out, I have months to do so and it shouldn't be that hard. She brought out the big guns, having uncle A tell me we did it wrong and my solutions are bad solutions and why don't we all just do everything their fucking way? Independence is not a bad thing! Let us do the things we can afford the way we can afford them! I am going home and I don't care how I get there! I can take a train, I can take a bus, I don't care if I have to camp in the damned airport, I'll figure something out!

What are this?

Last night I had a dream where I met SmTn. We were going to the cinema, and we walked in the rain and I met his girlfriend. The girlfriend was less than nice to me. She was outright rude, actually. SmTn apologised. It seems I'd gone to pick him up at his place, which is where I met her, we went out, and then walked back. Except when we were walking back it started to drizzle. SmTn was having a "moment:" he was seriously considering breaking up with her.  I asked if he'd like to stay out for a bit before going back in, just to cool off. I wondered if I should leave him alone but it didn't feel right (not that being there, in the middle of his thoughts felt any better). I just sat quietly next to him in a small park/green area in the apartment complex. He said he'd been considering it for a while. I think he was drunk because I remember telling him "Don't do it now. Do it later if you still feel the same way when you're sober." He said he had to because he kept thinking of someone else *hint, hint*.

In another dream there had been a maths colloquium where we'd each been sent out to find professors. I don't know if we were supposed to, but I'd brought cookies and a sandwich and something else (all sweet, apparently) for whoever I got. Just because, I guess? The professor I ended up with was not around, so I stuck with whoever was in his office. Turned out to be Bore, except he looked like my childhood paediatrician. He wasn't too keen on the stuff I'd brought for him. He thought I was there for some other reason. I remember being awkward. 

In another dream, I visited a small town in the country. I'd gotten to know it quite well and to sort of know my way around. I was there with someone else and we'd take the bus down a road that went right through the town. 

Otherwise, restless night. Partly my fault because I was too lazy to bring any of my cooling off contraptions. Mostly the fault of the damned heat. 

Side note/note to self: aunt B is not a very good influence. Even though she could school aunt A in class, gossip is not beneath her. Though I spoke nothing but truths and thought aunt A was out of earshot, aunt B asked why aunt A didn't seem to lose weight and I answered. (She has no discipline. It doesn't matter if she has a trainer and goes to the gym, she doesn't do what she's told. She does what she likes. It doesn't matter if she once, goodness knows how long ago, went to a doctor who gave her a special diet. She doesn't follow it! She eats what she likes, arguing that she only eats unhealthy foods once in a lifetime every weekend. She argues she only eats carbs because she'd otherwise get very low blood sugar and pretends all she eats at night is fruit and cheese, but when she helps herself to rice or potatoes she'll fill half the bloody plate. No sense of portion control. When she thinks no one is looking she'll help herself to powdered milk which is both sweetened and whole. She goes through big cans of the stuff. When she thinks no one will notice, or under the excuse of low blood sugar, she'll eat whatever candy she fancies. Under the excuse that they're sugar free, she'll eat other candy... like it being sugar free somehow made it also carb free and fat free. I didn't quite say all this, but I suppose I should have kept my mouth shut. As nice as it is to be able to vent and speak truths, it is beneath me to gossip like that and I at least feel bad for it.