this absolutely sucks. i hate staying home sick.
1- i'd like to think that it's a nice break from my clients and their problems, but it's so not, cos i know that when i go back into work that they'll have made decisions on their own and totally screwed any number of things up. so it just means more work when i get back, that could last weeks if not months to sort out, especially if it's housing.
2- i am losing money staying at home, despite the fact that i get paid sick leave. I get paid... hmm... not sure, around $230 a day before tax. Friday alone: i drove dangerously with an eye patch on to the local shopping centre, bought a coffee $4, bought macdonalds $7.50. then drove to the doctor's, bought iron tablets, eye ointment and eye drops $46. went home, was bored, bought André Rieu tickets in the Netherlands for 75 Euro ($147). so total expenditure for Friday alone was $204.50 which you'd think is ok - i'm breaking even BUT NO! because yesterday and today i have spent all day trying to work out flights from Rome to Maastricht and it's terrible, i'm going to end up spending around $600 to fly Rome to Brussels, take a train to Maastricht, then back to Brussels, then fly to Florence. Not to mention the $70 per night hotel in Maastricht. And the fact that I think i'm going to have to forward my large suitcase from melbourne directly to Florence as i don't think i will be able to take a local train lugging my large suitcase plus my hand luggage plus a handbag and stay on top of not getting robbed. This conjunctivitis is costing me an arm and a leg; it should know that when I am bored I do things like this.
3- I'm struggling to see because of my eyes, yet i've never blogged so much, spent so much time in front of my laptop, read so many travel brochures, studied so many maps in my life. I could have gone for months without doing all this, but the second i know it's difficult for me i suddenly REALLY need to read non stop for 12 hours a day. and i can't even tell if my eyes are hurting from it all cos i'm already in so much pain.
the trouble is - my eyes sort of feel okayish now, and i wouldn't mind going into work tomorrow as i have so many clients to see, but my eyes are blood red, i look like i've escaped from the set of 28 days later. so i might go to the travel agent and back to the doctors... have to stay away from shops and my laptop as much as possible; it only results in more spending.
Showing posts with label hopeless. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hopeless. Show all posts
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Thursday, October 16, 2008
STOP THINKING AND GO TO SLEEP
this post is going to be complete and total utter rubbish. it's 1.56am, exactly 56 minutes past my usual self inflicted bed time. Only time i break this rule on a week night is for boyfriends or very very very very serious dramas (like when i locked my keys in the car with the pizza INSIDE and the RACV man took his sweet arse time)
i'm sleepy but i'm not. i really wish tomorrow was Saturday so i wouldn't have to be stressing right now that i'm going to be a babbling moron at work tomorrow due to sleep deprivation.
i lay in bed at, what? maybe 11.30. uploaded some pics onto facebook while simultaneously reading Bridget Jones the edge of reason (we'll get into that later). So bored and not tired I even reinstated my speeddate account (shit, am writing this post in wrong blog if going to start talking about dating... double shit, sound like Helen Fielding, fuck Bridget Jones). anyway - lunatics, absolute lunatics on that thing, but it's kinda cool that you can do it from FB. what the fuck am i even talking about, i'm so tired but not.
1.37 - i was closing my laptop, turning off my lamp... heard stomach grumble. Stupid part of brain convinced the rest of my body that i wouldn't be able to sleep if i was hungry, despite the fact that i had more than a decent amount of vegetarian nasi goreng with oyster sauce for dinner. got up, and ate the following:
-half a loaf of italian bread
-a can of chilli tuna
-green tomatoes, pickled
-eggplants, pickled
-an entire mini tub of philadelphia
truth be told, after the first 5 mouthfuls i was totally satisfied. but in my stupid BJ (oh jesus christ, i was going to refer to Bridget Jones as that, now there's another meaning for my blow job acronym) mood i ate myself to the point where i'm now sitting in my bed thinking about vomiting onto my futon.
it's all my co-worker's fault. she told me a few days ago that she loves going to sleep on a full stomach, helps her sleep. must have been in the back of my mind when i decided to eat myself to death.
strangely - don't feel guilty about overeating anymore. ever since i started this vegetarian thing that has RUINED MY LIFE i'm hungry 24/7 and havne't put on any weight; if anything, people have been telling me non stop that i'm losing weight. humph. the first sentence of this paragraph sounds like i ever did feel guilty for over eating. pfft - no, but i think under normal meatarian circumstances i would have thought it, at the very least, insane to be eating like a maniac at this ungodly hour.
it's 2.09
i hate not eating meat.
wonder how long exactly it's been. going to work it out. i recall sending an abusive fb message to the person who sent me the vile link right after i'd watched it which was the same second i became vegetarian.
going to fb now...
29th July 2008. fucking prick, why would he send it to me?! agh!
and i think my wrists would be better if i was eating meat. do you have any idea how often one uses their wrists?! (my god this post is horrific)
-to brush their teeth
-to spray their deodorant
-to turn their car wheel. uh, sleepiness must be upon me, i meant to say steering wheel.
-to put on and unclip their bra
-and a few other things which, even in my over-stuffed-becoming-sleepy state, i know should not be mentioned on a thing as public as my blog
anyway - i can't DANCE! cos the guys are tools and it feels like they're attempting to break my hands off from my arms. i'm sure that's not the intention, but geez that's what it feels like. i even did a dance exercise class at the gym tonight, and i turned around, as per the routine, and the wind on my hands hurt my wrists. clearly, i have to go to the physio if the wind is hurting me.
ok, well i'm going to try to sleep. last comment is that my friends are turning me into Bridget Jones and i know i always say i'm right... but i really think i am, and i really think they are all reading too much into stuff. actually that's totally another post.
goodnight!
i'm sleepy but i'm not. i really wish tomorrow was Saturday so i wouldn't have to be stressing right now that i'm going to be a babbling moron at work tomorrow due to sleep deprivation.
i lay in bed at, what? maybe 11.30. uploaded some pics onto facebook while simultaneously reading Bridget Jones the edge of reason (we'll get into that later). So bored and not tired I even reinstated my speeddate account (shit, am writing this post in wrong blog if going to start talking about dating... double shit, sound like Helen Fielding, fuck Bridget Jones). anyway - lunatics, absolute lunatics on that thing, but it's kinda cool that you can do it from FB. what the fuck am i even talking about, i'm so tired but not.
1.37 - i was closing my laptop, turning off my lamp... heard stomach grumble. Stupid part of brain convinced the rest of my body that i wouldn't be able to sleep if i was hungry, despite the fact that i had more than a decent amount of vegetarian nasi goreng with oyster sauce for dinner. got up, and ate the following:
-half a loaf of italian bread
-a can of chilli tuna
-green tomatoes, pickled
-eggplants, pickled
-an entire mini tub of philadelphia
truth be told, after the first 5 mouthfuls i was totally satisfied. but in my stupid BJ (oh jesus christ, i was going to refer to Bridget Jones as that, now there's another meaning for my blow job acronym) mood i ate myself to the point where i'm now sitting in my bed thinking about vomiting onto my futon.
it's all my co-worker's fault. she told me a few days ago that she loves going to sleep on a full stomach, helps her sleep. must have been in the back of my mind when i decided to eat myself to death.
strangely - don't feel guilty about overeating anymore. ever since i started this vegetarian thing that has RUINED MY LIFE i'm hungry 24/7 and havne't put on any weight; if anything, people have been telling me non stop that i'm losing weight. humph. the first sentence of this paragraph sounds like i ever did feel guilty for over eating. pfft - no, but i think under normal meatarian circumstances i would have thought it, at the very least, insane to be eating like a maniac at this ungodly hour.
it's 2.09
i hate not eating meat.
wonder how long exactly it's been. going to work it out. i recall sending an abusive fb message to the person who sent me the vile link right after i'd watched it which was the same second i became vegetarian.
going to fb now...
29th July 2008. fucking prick, why would he send it to me?! agh!
and i think my wrists would be better if i was eating meat. do you have any idea how often one uses their wrists?! (my god this post is horrific)
-to brush their teeth
-to spray their deodorant
-to turn their car wheel. uh, sleepiness must be upon me, i meant to say steering wheel.
-to put on and unclip their bra
-and a few other things which, even in my over-stuffed-becoming-sleepy state, i know should not be mentioned on a thing as public as my blog
anyway - i can't DANCE! cos the guys are tools and it feels like they're attempting to break my hands off from my arms. i'm sure that's not the intention, but geez that's what it feels like. i even did a dance exercise class at the gym tonight, and i turned around, as per the routine, and the wind on my hands hurt my wrists. clearly, i have to go to the physio if the wind is hurting me.
ok, well i'm going to try to sleep. last comment is that my friends are turning me into Bridget Jones and i know i always say i'm right... but i really think i am, and i really think they are all reading too much into stuff. actually that's totally another post.
goodnight!
Monday, August 25, 2008
microsoft publisher...ugh
once upon a time, before i was a youth worker, i did graphic design. i stopped only because i didn't have the drive any more (and because i couldn't handle pulling three all nighters in a row, getting glandular fever from being so run down and trying to think of concepts for stuff i hated). Basically, though, i didn't give it up because i was a crap designer; i just realised that I wasn't right to be in that field cos of everything else that goes hand in hand with it.
all i do now is tiny stuff on the side; invitations for 21st and other celebrations, advertising for my uncle's business etc. and it's great, cos now i love doing it as opposed to before when i was forced to do it.
so, i work with youth workers. and they have to advertise all the time with fliers, newsletters, posters etc.
and they use publisher.
and don't get me wrong - publisher isn't the issue. when i've been on other people's computer i've used publisher and made simple, yet effective, brochures and stuff. it's not the program; if they were using Adobe or Indesign or Quark the problem would still be there.
it's like they're blind. mish-mash of colours, no thought as to whether or not their colour design is going to end up being printed in black and white, no thought to legibility, fonts. These youthies; they're into Comic Sans and Curlz.
stop and think about that for a moment.
Comic Sans
Curlz.
so then! they see me walking past and they jump out of their chairs and yell 'Bee! Bee! you're into design can you have a look at this for me and tell me what you think' and they drag me over to their computers.
and i feel like i'm going to a funeral.
i look at the screen and i see illegible fonts. i see words that are meant to stand out so they've changed the font size for each letter. i see fucked up kerning cos of the size differences. i see widows everywhere. i see text justified wherever they see fit. i see everything in the centre of the page. i see hyphenations from one line to the next - not one, but several. i see... wait for it... clip art images. Or, worse still, images that they've taken from google image search and they've used without a thought to, well anything, and they've blown it up and it's all pixellated.
what can i say?
and! don't even get me started on the language used, or their mispellings, or grammatical errors.
so i end up saying something vague like 'oh... well, um, i'd probably maybe just fix up where that hyphenated word is... and that one... and that one...' and then i have to totally lie and say 'but other than that it looks fantastic! wow - it's great!' and they kind of frown when i say my one little problem too, as though they can't work out what's wrong with having 4 hyphenated words on one poster that only has 40 words on it.
i don't want to go back to graphics - but i really struggle with this.
all i do now is tiny stuff on the side; invitations for 21st and other celebrations, advertising for my uncle's business etc. and it's great, cos now i love doing it as opposed to before when i was forced to do it.
so, i work with youth workers. and they have to advertise all the time with fliers, newsletters, posters etc.
and they use publisher.
and don't get me wrong - publisher isn't the issue. when i've been on other people's computer i've used publisher and made simple, yet effective, brochures and stuff. it's not the program; if they were using Adobe or Indesign or Quark the problem would still be there.
it's like they're blind. mish-mash of colours, no thought as to whether or not their colour design is going to end up being printed in black and white, no thought to legibility, fonts. These youthies; they're into Comic Sans and Curlz.
stop and think about that for a moment.
Comic Sans
Curlz.
so then! they see me walking past and they jump out of their chairs and yell 'Bee! Bee! you're into design can you have a look at this for me and tell me what you think' and they drag me over to their computers.
and i feel like i'm going to a funeral.
i look at the screen and i see illegible fonts. i see words that are meant to stand out so they've changed the font size for each letter. i see fucked up kerning cos of the size differences. i see widows everywhere. i see text justified wherever they see fit. i see everything in the centre of the page. i see hyphenations from one line to the next - not one, but several. i see... wait for it... clip art images. Or, worse still, images that they've taken from google image search and they've used without a thought to, well anything, and they've blown it up and it's all pixellated.
what can i say?
and! don't even get me started on the language used, or their mispellings, or grammatical errors.
so i end up saying something vague like 'oh... well, um, i'd probably maybe just fix up where that hyphenated word is... and that one... and that one...' and then i have to totally lie and say 'but other than that it looks fantastic! wow - it's great!' and they kind of frown when i say my one little problem too, as though they can't work out what's wrong with having 4 hyphenated words on one poster that only has 40 words on it.
i don't want to go back to graphics - but i really struggle with this.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
unbalanced
if someone asks me something i tell them.
if the conversation is going towards something i have a thought on, i say it.
if someone asks for my opinion, well i'll crap on till the cows come home.
i've always been one for talking/crying/laughing/arguing through problems - never one to sit and stew. and for this reason, i think, people understand me pretty well. but too well perhaps.
everyone knows everything about me, like as in EVERYTHING. and the problem is not that i don't want people knowing everything, i obviously do cos the words are coming out of my mouth... but i can't help but become furious when others don't reciprocate. and i know i'm in the wrong - i'm fully aware that, and i hate that i get angry, but i do. when i found out that one of my friends was getting married and i found out about a week later i was astounded. Not that she hadn't told me - but that she could keep it in.
what am i looking for? friends who will shutup and listen to me 24/7 but somehow i also want them to tell me as much as i tell them - when would this opportunity come up with me talking all the time? i always get off 1 hour telephone calls and realise that i've spoken for 90% of them. that's just plain rude, but i can't stop.
i started writing this blog so i would talk LESS. i don't really tell any of my friends about this blog or the boys one (partly cos i bitch about some of them in it). so i end up writing on here and then seeing them and repeating most of my stories anyway.
ok - my best friend - she's a listener BUT when she has something important to say she'll scream over me 'Bee Bee Bee hang on shhhhh i gotta tell you first...' and that's awesome! i need to be told to shutup.
my workplace - we all fight for the spotlight and i love it. When my sister came into work with me recently she came to the conclusion 'Bee, everyone at your work is like you!' they're almost all extroverted and easily excitable to say the least.
i need people to talk over me. I need my friends to remind me to breathe during a story. i need my friends to put things into perspective for me. and i need friends to tell me to shutup and be forceful about it when they want to talk, because i'm 24 years old and i try really hard and i still talk over everyone.
my sister is exactly the same. there's no hope for her.
all that said and done i am fully capable of keeping secrets. all the stuff i blab about is my gossip, not even gossip about me and other people. so at least i have one filter of sorts.
if the conversation is going towards something i have a thought on, i say it.
if someone asks for my opinion, well i'll crap on till the cows come home.
i've always been one for talking/crying/laughing/arguing through problems - never one to sit and stew. and for this reason, i think, people understand me pretty well. but too well perhaps.
everyone knows everything about me, like as in EVERYTHING. and the problem is not that i don't want people knowing everything, i obviously do cos the words are coming out of my mouth... but i can't help but become furious when others don't reciprocate. and i know i'm in the wrong - i'm fully aware that, and i hate that i get angry, but i do. when i found out that one of my friends was getting married and i found out about a week later i was astounded. Not that she hadn't told me - but that she could keep it in.
what am i looking for? friends who will shutup and listen to me 24/7 but somehow i also want them to tell me as much as i tell them - when would this opportunity come up with me talking all the time? i always get off 1 hour telephone calls and realise that i've spoken for 90% of them. that's just plain rude, but i can't stop.
i started writing this blog so i would talk LESS. i don't really tell any of my friends about this blog or the boys one (partly cos i bitch about some of them in it). so i end up writing on here and then seeing them and repeating most of my stories anyway.
ok - my best friend - she's a listener BUT when she has something important to say she'll scream over me 'Bee Bee Bee hang on shhhhh i gotta tell you first...' and that's awesome! i need to be told to shutup.
my workplace - we all fight for the spotlight and i love it. When my sister came into work with me recently she came to the conclusion 'Bee, everyone at your work is like you!' they're almost all extroverted and easily excitable to say the least.
i need people to talk over me. I need my friends to remind me to breathe during a story. i need my friends to put things into perspective for me. and i need friends to tell me to shutup and be forceful about it when they want to talk, because i'm 24 years old and i try really hard and i still talk over everyone.
my sister is exactly the same. there's no hope for her.
all that said and done i am fully capable of keeping secrets. all the stuff i blab about is my gossip, not even gossip about me and other people. so at least i have one filter of sorts.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
i need closure!
firstly, refer to my last post if you haven't already.
oh and also read this.
now. when i went on the Personal Development thingy i had an older man in my group, and on the second night i had a feeling that he was interested in me. I had a conversation with him and i brought up our ages. after explicitly saying that i was 24 i asked him how old he was. I would never ever do that normally to someone older, but I really wanted to reiterate to him indirectly that there was a huge age difference. so i found out he was 42.
so on the second last night i saw him coming towards me with his mobile phone, looking quite nervous. dammit, he's going to ask me for my number.
Old Man: So, Bee, i was wondering... uhm... are you going dancing tonight?
Me: ah, no, my knee has been clicking for the past hour and i don't want to push it.
Old Man: oh, ok, because i was wondering, if maybe you wanted to possibly go out now, and just catch up for a drink, like we could go and have a coffee somewhere in the city... (really hopeful, puppy-dog expression on his face)
Me: (enter rambling bullshit cos i'm lying) ah, well, wow, i'd love to, but you see, uh, i just spoke to my little sister in the toilet (firstly i didn't speak to her, secondly, when i lie why do i say doubly stupid things like i was on the phone in the toilet?) and uhm she really wants to see me, cos you know she hasn't seen me all weekend and you know she's little, she's only 14 (blatantly lying again) so i already promised her that i'm going to go home and spend some time with her, cos i haven't seen her you know? (ramble-ramble-ramble)
Old Man: oh, oh, uhm, oh, well ok....
and then i did what i always did. I GOT SUCKED IN TO FEELING SORRY FOR HIM. and before my mouth could tell my brain what it was saying this came out of my mouth:
Me: but, uhm, did you want my number?
whaaaaaaaaaaaat on earth is wrong with me. he looked surprised, and then handed his phone over to me. I realised that he probably hadn't taken his phone out for my number at all. I typed in my number while repeating 'IDIOT' over and over again to myself silently.
i finished typing it in and looked up at him. he still looked really upset and he was looking at me as though he wanted to speak but was stopping himself. he went to speak a few times but nothing came out.
so again... i felt sorry for him, sympathy not empathy, and i said:
Me:well, tomorrow we start at 6, did you want to come past the city a little earlier tomorrw, say 5, and we can catch up for a coffee then?
this time he looked even more crestfallen.
Old Man: no, uhm, i can't, unfortunately 6.00 is the absolute earliest i could come... i'm at work, oh... uhm
as he 'ohed' and 'uhmed' with his worried expression i bit my tongue, as in a literally BIT MY TONGUE. i kept on feeling sorry for him and i was one step away from offering something even more ridiculous, like 'oh, look, would you like me to be the mother of your children?' just because i felt sorry for him.
so that was a perfect example of my movie.
BUT WAIT; THERE'S MORE!
i'm about to head out the door tonight, just running around grabbing shisha and coal to have at my friend's house, and a number called my mobile that wasn't saved in there.
Me:Hello?
Old Man:Hello Bee
Me:Who's this?
Old Man:It's Old Man
Me:(omgomgomg) Old Man! How are you? (fake enthusiasm, want to die on the spot)
Old Man:good good... are you going out dancing tonight?
Me:Me? no, no, tonight i'm just hanging out with my friends, quiet one. (stop rambling)
Old Man:Oh, because i wanted to know if you'd like to come to a greek cafe with me tonight and have a couple of drinks?
Me:ah, well Old Man, my friend is expecting me (mistake number 56 - it sounds like i would go had i not already made plans)
Old Man:Oh, so you wouldn't like to come to have a drink?
Me:(fuck! i struggle with confrontation withOUT people directly asking me) uhm well, no, she's been sick for a couple of weeks and i haven't seen her in a while (total lie and rambling)
Old Man:oh ok, well what are you doing tomorrow between 10 and 1?
Me:I'm going to my accountant (finally i said something that was true, and i was so excited by this that i subconsciously sabotaged it) and we made the appointment months ago and i can't change it (SHUT UP)
Old Man:oh, ok, it's just that i'm doing another personal development program and i thought you'd like to come as my guest
Me:(hell no) wow Old Man, that sounds really great, but i can't because of the tax man, my family would kill my because we have to do our taxes together (why the hell am i telling him this?)
Old Man:so you're not dancing tonight?
Me:Mope, night off.
Old Man:I borrowed a ballroom dancing book from the library. is that what type you do?
Me:(by this point i was hysterical and i freaked) when did you borrow the book? (for some reason i desperately wanted him to say 2 months ago, before he met me, and it was just a coinkidink that he then met someone who danced)
Old Man:uhm, oh... so do you do ballroom?
Me:No. when did you borrow the book?
Old Man:oh, uhm i cant remember.
after that point i think i was so frustrated that i managed to finish the conversation without agreeing to anything, without telling him where i go dancing, without making a coffee date etc. the whole call went for over 20 minutes so it was quite a lot of distress going on on my end.
anyway, i am now saving his number as DO NOT ANSWER OLD MAN.
oh and also read this.
now. when i went on the Personal Development thingy i had an older man in my group, and on the second night i had a feeling that he was interested in me. I had a conversation with him and i brought up our ages. after explicitly saying that i was 24 i asked him how old he was. I would never ever do that normally to someone older, but I really wanted to reiterate to him indirectly that there was a huge age difference. so i found out he was 42.
so on the second last night i saw him coming towards me with his mobile phone, looking quite nervous. dammit, he's going to ask me for my number.
Old Man: So, Bee, i was wondering... uhm... are you going dancing tonight?
Me: ah, no, my knee has been clicking for the past hour and i don't want to push it.
Old Man: oh, ok, because i was wondering, if maybe you wanted to possibly go out now, and just catch up for a drink, like we could go and have a coffee somewhere in the city... (really hopeful, puppy-dog expression on his face)
Me: (enter rambling bullshit cos i'm lying) ah, well, wow, i'd love to, but you see, uh, i just spoke to my little sister in the toilet (firstly i didn't speak to her, secondly, when i lie why do i say doubly stupid things like i was on the phone in the toilet?) and uhm she really wants to see me, cos you know she hasn't seen me all weekend and you know she's little, she's only 14 (blatantly lying again) so i already promised her that i'm going to go home and spend some time with her, cos i haven't seen her you know? (ramble-ramble-ramble)
Old Man: oh, oh, uhm, oh, well ok....
and then i did what i always did. I GOT SUCKED IN TO FEELING SORRY FOR HIM. and before my mouth could tell my brain what it was saying this came out of my mouth:
Me: but, uhm, did you want my number?
whaaaaaaaaaaaat on earth is wrong with me. he looked surprised, and then handed his phone over to me. I realised that he probably hadn't taken his phone out for my number at all. I typed in my number while repeating 'IDIOT' over and over again to myself silently.
i finished typing it in and looked up at him. he still looked really upset and he was looking at me as though he wanted to speak but was stopping himself. he went to speak a few times but nothing came out.
so again... i felt sorry for him, sympathy not empathy, and i said:
Me:well, tomorrow we start at 6, did you want to come past the city a little earlier tomorrw, say 5, and we can catch up for a coffee then?
this time he looked even more crestfallen.
Old Man: no, uhm, i can't, unfortunately 6.00 is the absolute earliest i could come... i'm at work, oh... uhm
as he 'ohed' and 'uhmed' with his worried expression i bit my tongue, as in a literally BIT MY TONGUE. i kept on feeling sorry for him and i was one step away from offering something even more ridiculous, like 'oh, look, would you like me to be the mother of your children?' just because i felt sorry for him.
so that was a perfect example of my movie.
BUT WAIT; THERE'S MORE!
i'm about to head out the door tonight, just running around grabbing shisha and coal to have at my friend's house, and a number called my mobile that wasn't saved in there.
Me:Hello?
Old Man:Hello Bee
Me:Who's this?
Old Man:It's Old Man
Me:(omgomgomg) Old Man! How are you? (fake enthusiasm, want to die on the spot)
Old Man:good good... are you going out dancing tonight?
Me:Me? no, no, tonight i'm just hanging out with my friends, quiet one. (stop rambling)
Old Man:Oh, because i wanted to know if you'd like to come to a greek cafe with me tonight and have a couple of drinks?
Me:ah, well Old Man, my friend is expecting me (mistake number 56 - it sounds like i would go had i not already made plans)
Old Man:Oh, so you wouldn't like to come to have a drink?
Me:(fuck! i struggle with confrontation withOUT people directly asking me) uhm well, no, she's been sick for a couple of weeks and i haven't seen her in a while (total lie and rambling)
Old Man:oh ok, well what are you doing tomorrow between 10 and 1?
Me:I'm going to my accountant (finally i said something that was true, and i was so excited by this that i subconsciously sabotaged it) and we made the appointment months ago and i can't change it (SHUT UP)
Old Man:oh, ok, it's just that i'm doing another personal development program and i thought you'd like to come as my guest
Me:(hell no) wow Old Man, that sounds really great, but i can't because of the tax man, my family would kill my because we have to do our taxes together (why the hell am i telling him this?)
Old Man:so you're not dancing tonight?
Me:Mope, night off.
Old Man:I borrowed a ballroom dancing book from the library. is that what type you do?
Me:(by this point i was hysterical and i freaked) when did you borrow the book? (for some reason i desperately wanted him to say 2 months ago, before he met me, and it was just a coinkidink that he then met someone who danced)
Old Man:uhm, oh... so do you do ballroom?
Me:No. when did you borrow the book?
Old Man:oh, uhm i cant remember.
after that point i think i was so frustrated that i managed to finish the conversation without agreeing to anything, without telling him where i go dancing, without making a coffee date etc. the whole call went for over 20 minutes so it was quite a lot of distress going on on my end.
anyway, i am now saving his number as DO NOT ANSWER OLD MAN.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
i am a star... Happy-Go-Lucky
so the movie starts...
5 seconds of watching the main character and everyone has a smile on their lips...
10 seconds in and everyone is having a chuckle...
15 seconds and we all openly laugh...
20 second... I stop laughing, everyone else laughs harder...
25 seconds... I begin to frown slightly, the guy behind me slaps his knee with laughter, and my friend S. is sinking into her seat.
30 seconds... I turn to S. and whisper fiercely 'S.! this girl is like me! that's me!'
S. turns to me, still laughing, then sees the expression on my face and begins to laugh harder... 'Oh my god Bee, you're right, it's you!'
hilarious... not.
the experience of sitting down watching a fictional character do things that you, a real human being, would do, and getting it right with every second that passes was insane. I was distressed as i knew that there would be things in the movie i hated about myself, but at the same time it was interesting... like 'what would I do?' and tell the character in my head what to do before she did it. and getting it right.
it wasn't the obvious stuff, mind you, like the art or the kids or the being single, although that stuff was all on the ball too.
it was the getting sucked in. i am a sucker. i am an intelligent person... i was always a strait A student, i got my degree without dedicating more than 20 hours over the years for study, i have never had to read anything twice... for goodness' sake my IQ is enough to get into bloody mensa. and yet the rational part of me can never manage to override the emotional.
i am the person who starts random conversations with the bookstore owner.
i am the person who, if they don't engage with me, i try even harder, to the point of being even more of a dickhead.
i am the person who, if someone steals something of mine i think 'well, they must have stolen it for a reason, they obviously needed it much more than i did.'
i am most certainly the person who begins conversations with random homeless people, even when they have clearly had a stroke in Broca's area and the conversation goes nowhere.
and i am the person, who, even after i get completely screwed over, i try to fix the person who did the wrong thing by me because i feel sorry for them.
but what made me upset about this movie was the ending. the whole movie i kept on saying her answers to myself before she said them, and then at the very end she was confronted with a terrible situation, the kind i am always dealing with. when someone asks you something and you should say no but you feel sorry for them and say yes.
well, i whispered in my head to her 'yes!'.
and she thought and thought and thought about her answer... and said, 'umm, no.'
and that was the end of the film. and it was closure for her because she has managed to work out when to say no and be firm. and now i'm freaking out because i've realised that i clearly still don't know how on earth to say no. i can't even tell the fictional Bee to say no.
i have to work out a way to be able to say no and feel no guilt.
5 seconds of watching the main character and everyone has a smile on their lips...
10 seconds in and everyone is having a chuckle...
15 seconds and we all openly laugh...
20 second... I stop laughing, everyone else laughs harder...
25 seconds... I begin to frown slightly, the guy behind me slaps his knee with laughter, and my friend S. is sinking into her seat.
30 seconds... I turn to S. and whisper fiercely 'S.! this girl is like me! that's me!'
S. turns to me, still laughing, then sees the expression on my face and begins to laugh harder... 'Oh my god Bee, you're right, it's you!'
hilarious... not.
the experience of sitting down watching a fictional character do things that you, a real human being, would do, and getting it right with every second that passes was insane. I was distressed as i knew that there would be things in the movie i hated about myself, but at the same time it was interesting... like 'what would I do?' and tell the character in my head what to do before she did it. and getting it right.
it wasn't the obvious stuff, mind you, like the art or the kids or the being single, although that stuff was all on the ball too.
it was the getting sucked in. i am a sucker. i am an intelligent person... i was always a strait A student, i got my degree without dedicating more than 20 hours over the years for study, i have never had to read anything twice... for goodness' sake my IQ is enough to get into bloody mensa. and yet the rational part of me can never manage to override the emotional.
i am the person who starts random conversations with the bookstore owner.
i am the person who, if they don't engage with me, i try even harder, to the point of being even more of a dickhead.
i am the person who, if someone steals something of mine i think 'well, they must have stolen it for a reason, they obviously needed it much more than i did.'
i am most certainly the person who begins conversations with random homeless people, even when they have clearly had a stroke in Broca's area and the conversation goes nowhere.
and i am the person, who, even after i get completely screwed over, i try to fix the person who did the wrong thing by me because i feel sorry for them.
but what made me upset about this movie was the ending. the whole movie i kept on saying her answers to myself before she said them, and then at the very end she was confronted with a terrible situation, the kind i am always dealing with. when someone asks you something and you should say no but you feel sorry for them and say yes.
well, i whispered in my head to her 'yes!'.
and she thought and thought and thought about her answer... and said, 'umm, no.'
and that was the end of the film. and it was closure for her because she has managed to work out when to say no and be firm. and now i'm freaking out because i've realised that i clearly still don't know how on earth to say no. i can't even tell the fictional Bee to say no.
i have to work out a way to be able to say no and feel no guilt.
Friday, December 14, 2007
you can't be friends with the opposite sex
i feel sick to my stomach. i feel like i've done something wrong, very wrong, and i've done absolutely NOTHING.
in a nutshell, i have been associating with someone of the opposite sex. and associating isn't a metaphor for something else, i have literally just been talking and not just that, it's been strictly work related.
oh what a mess i've made.
this guy, let's call him 4, knows a lot about the job i'm going into. I will sort of be working with him when i begin, but not in the same building. since he knows everything, i thought it would make sense for me to ask him about the job and the ins and outs. (no pun intended)
4 is great... but 4 reminds me of someone else, not an ex boyfriend, not my brother (eww), but instead he reminds me of myself. I look at him and think he would get along fantastically with my friends and he makes me cry with laughter. i've said a gazillion times before to 4 and people we work with; '4 is a female version of me'
now i think he likes me. well, not so much think, i'm quite certain. he just invited me, which is what has sparked this post, to his best friend's birthday. it just made me think of when A and i had been together for a while and he announced to me that he had decided that he was ready to 'present' me to his friends at his christmas parties and birthdays. hehe, i still can't think of him saying that without giggling, i love when people whose second language is english speak so properly.
i could be reading waaaaay too much into it. but i don't think i am, i think i'm correct.
in a nutshell, i have been associating with someone of the opposite sex. and associating isn't a metaphor for something else, i have literally just been talking and not just that, it's been strictly work related.
oh what a mess i've made.
this guy, let's call him 4, knows a lot about the job i'm going into. I will sort of be working with him when i begin, but not in the same building. since he knows everything, i thought it would make sense for me to ask him about the job and the ins and outs. (no pun intended)
4 is great... but 4 reminds me of someone else, not an ex boyfriend, not my brother (eww), but instead he reminds me of myself. I look at him and think he would get along fantastically with my friends and he makes me cry with laughter. i've said a gazillion times before to 4 and people we work with; '4 is a female version of me'
now i think he likes me. well, not so much think, i'm quite certain. he just invited me, which is what has sparked this post, to his best friend's birthday. it just made me think of when A and i had been together for a while and he announced to me that he had decided that he was ready to 'present' me to his friends at his christmas parties and birthdays. hehe, i still can't think of him saying that without giggling, i love when people whose second language is english speak so properly.
i could be reading waaaaay too much into it. but i don't think i am, i think i'm correct.
Friday, November 9, 2007
linguistics is the root of my problem...
i was breath tested on the way to dancing last night even though it was early, probably Melbourne Cup related. i wound down my window and there were two police officers chatting away and slowly coming up to me.
now i'm not sure if i found this difficult to deal with because i have my degree in english and linguistics, but hmmm....
the police officer was talking to his friend in a monotonous voice 'yeah-i-know-what-you're-saying-and-please-take-one-continous-breath-until-i-say-agree-with-you-stop-completely-about-it-joe-when-the-breathaliser-beeps-twice-it-will-indicate-to-me-that-you-are-right-to-go.'
well firstly when he said stop i thought he was talking to the other cop so i kept blowing and turning red cos i was running out of breath then he just sort of pulled it out of my mouth. and had no idea that he even told me that i was right to go.
i was so tempted to say 'listen to my pauses... pay attention to my intonation... TAKE IT ON BOARD!'
now i'm not sure if i found this difficult to deal with because i have my degree in english and linguistics, but hmmm....
the police officer was talking to his friend in a monotonous voice 'yeah-i-know-what-you're-saying-and-please-take-one-continous-breath-until-i-say-agree-with-you-stop-completely-about-it-joe-when-the-breathaliser-beeps-twice-it-will-indicate-to-me-that-you-are-right-to-go.'
well firstly when he said stop i thought he was talking to the other cop so i kept blowing and turning red cos i was running out of breath then he just sort of pulled it out of my mouth. and had no idea that he even told me that i was right to go.
i was so tempted to say 'listen to my pauses... pay attention to my intonation... TAKE IT ON BOARD!'
Monday, September 3, 2007
arranged marriages... again
i have been watching my parent's reaction to A. and me breaking up. they've changed their game plan every week. so far this is what has unfurled:
week 1- absolute complete and total silence. they didn't ask me to clean my room, wash dishes, do a few loads in the laundry, nothing at all. it wasn't even like i couldn't have done those things, they were literally running around in circles doing everything before i got a chance to.
week 2- pretty much the same as week 1 but i just began to ignore them and did the normal cleaning i do at home. i don't really get how not making me clean was going to make me feel better, anyway.
week 3- dad booked me in for a whole day of weeding the garden. i'm serious. after around 4 hours of weeding he came up and informed me that 'weeding is very therapuetic you know.' aha, so now they're making their own therapies for me. it didn't matter though, i spent the whole time thinking about how much A. would have loved to be weeding the garden, in some old clothes and getting all dirty in the sunshine with our duck walking around.
week 3 1/2- mum and dad come home to find me drinking a beer with dinner. ONE BEER. i haven't had any sort of alcohol in i don't even know how long, cos i'm always dancing or working with kids. mum and dad began to question me about the boys i was going to the snow with, along with the comment 'you always drink when you're down.' insane. i drink around 8 standard drink per annum. spent the weekend away thinking how much A. would have loved snowboarding, not drinking and sleeping with guys who until very recently i thought were gay.
week 4- my family... lunch time... eating happily... suddenly dad explains that he's found me a husband, he's known him for a long time, and it's ok because he knows the family too and they're ok. mum turns to him and exclaims 'don't say that to Bee... (i'm thinking whew, he's only joking)... because now she's going to get stressed out when he comes to dinner.' what the hell... instant visions of my big fat greek wedding and disgusting men coming to the house. left the table before i could hear any more, so i'm not really certain if it's true or they were just joking. well, actually i left the table right after yelling that i will never marry an italian man because all italians are sleaze buckets and cheat on their wives. my parents think this is ridiculous because they have never cheated on one another. they're like the only ones.
anyway... bit scared as to what week 5 will bring... i'm trying to go out dancing as much as possible so therefore i won't be able to make the dinners with cheating italian men.
week 1- absolute complete and total silence. they didn't ask me to clean my room, wash dishes, do a few loads in the laundry, nothing at all. it wasn't even like i couldn't have done those things, they were literally running around in circles doing everything before i got a chance to.
week 2- pretty much the same as week 1 but i just began to ignore them and did the normal cleaning i do at home. i don't really get how not making me clean was going to make me feel better, anyway.
week 3- dad booked me in for a whole day of weeding the garden. i'm serious. after around 4 hours of weeding he came up and informed me that 'weeding is very therapuetic you know.' aha, so now they're making their own therapies for me. it didn't matter though, i spent the whole time thinking about how much A. would have loved to be weeding the garden, in some old clothes and getting all dirty in the sunshine with our duck walking around.
week 3 1/2- mum and dad come home to find me drinking a beer with dinner. ONE BEER. i haven't had any sort of alcohol in i don't even know how long, cos i'm always dancing or working with kids. mum and dad began to question me about the boys i was going to the snow with, along with the comment 'you always drink when you're down.' insane. i drink around 8 standard drink per annum. spent the weekend away thinking how much A. would have loved snowboarding, not drinking and sleeping with guys who until very recently i thought were gay.
week 4- my family... lunch time... eating happily... suddenly dad explains that he's found me a husband, he's known him for a long time, and it's ok because he knows the family too and they're ok. mum turns to him and exclaims 'don't say that to Bee... (i'm thinking whew, he's only joking)... because now she's going to get stressed out when he comes to dinner.' what the hell... instant visions of my big fat greek wedding and disgusting men coming to the house. left the table before i could hear any more, so i'm not really certain if it's true or they were just joking. well, actually i left the table right after yelling that i will never marry an italian man because all italians are sleaze buckets and cheat on their wives. my parents think this is ridiculous because they have never cheated on one another. they're like the only ones.
anyway... bit scared as to what week 5 will bring... i'm trying to go out dancing as much as possible so therefore i won't be able to make the dinners with cheating italian men.
the pic above is the kind of northern italian guy our parents are expecting us to marry. the pic below shows what we are picturing...
Thursday, August 2, 2007
losing nearly an hour of my life
this guy from my work, B., had been bugging me for a week or so to attend one of these seminars. he was vague about it, but i didn't even bother asking him questions about it because up until last night i had always thought that he and i were very alike... very obviously not the case, or he's been brainwashed, one of the two.
so i agree to stay after work last night, along with my other sucker of a co-worker, S. just before we went into this 'meeting' one of our workers said 'uh, guys, you know what it is yeah? you're going into one of those join-and-make-money-or-die thingys'
shit.
pyramid whatever it's called. you know, those networking business ventures whereby you join and then if you manage to force another 50million people to also join you then make around thirty cents? man, did i get sucked in or what.
so S. and i went in to see this tiny geeky looking man in a crumpled suit, and he was already sweating profusely. he began his spiel, basically calling us losers because we make 'active income' (we go to work for our money) as opposed to making 'passive money' (sitting at home doing nothing while the money just floats on in)
sweaty man: so, S. B. Tell me. what do you both, personally, need in life to be successful?
i immediately thought 'happiness' but then thought 'nah, corny answer, let S. answer first'.
S.: happiness
B.: yeah me too, just happiness
WRONG ANSWER TO GIVE THE SWEATY MONEY HUNGRY MAN! his temple started visibly throbbing.
sweaty man: (he sounded like he was choking when he spoke) well, of course, and in order to acheive HAPPINESS you need MONEY!!! from a PASSIVE INCOME!!!
S. and I were looking at eachother like 'uh, wdf, no you don't...'
S. and i tried to explain that we liked working and we both actually dislike staying at home. sweaty man's eyes boggled at this, his face turning purple from complete and total non-comprehension.
sweaty man: so, what do you think, will you join in this fantastic entrepenuer voyage to money making bliss?
all i wanted to do was book this guy in for intense sessions with the counsellors at work.
needless to say we didn't join.
so i agree to stay after work last night, along with my other sucker of a co-worker, S. just before we went into this 'meeting' one of our workers said 'uh, guys, you know what it is yeah? you're going into one of those join-and-make-money-or-die thingys'
shit.
pyramid whatever it's called. you know, those networking business ventures whereby you join and then if you manage to force another 50million people to also join you then make around thirty cents? man, did i get sucked in or what.
so S. and i went in to see this tiny geeky looking man in a crumpled suit, and he was already sweating profusely. he began his spiel, basically calling us losers because we make 'active income' (we go to work for our money) as opposed to making 'passive money' (sitting at home doing nothing while the money just floats on in)
sweaty man: so, S. B. Tell me. what do you both, personally, need in life to be successful?
i immediately thought 'happiness' but then thought 'nah, corny answer, let S. answer first'.
S.: happiness
B.: yeah me too, just happiness
WRONG ANSWER TO GIVE THE SWEATY MONEY HUNGRY MAN! his temple started visibly throbbing.
sweaty man: (he sounded like he was choking when he spoke) well, of course, and in order to acheive HAPPINESS you need MONEY!!! from a PASSIVE INCOME!!!
S. and I were looking at eachother like 'uh, wdf, no you don't...'
S. and i tried to explain that we liked working and we both actually dislike staying at home. sweaty man's eyes boggled at this, his face turning purple from complete and total non-comprehension.
sweaty man: so, what do you think, will you join in this fantastic entrepenuer voyage to money making bliss?
all i wanted to do was book this guy in for intense sessions with the counsellors at work.
needless to say we didn't join.
Friday, July 20, 2007
valley of the dolls
jacqueline susann wrote 'valley of the dolls' in 1966, and in it she mentioned a then-current 'sleep cure'. i have no idea if it was a real medical practice back then in the 60's. it was told that it was predominantly used for mental trauma patients who had suffered some loss or grief. the example she gave was of a mother who suddenly and unexpectantly lost her teenage daughter. the pain is unimaginable so she has the sleep cure, which is a medically induced sleep for a few weeks. when she awakens the pain is there but nowhere near as bad as it would have been at the beginning, and she sleeps through the most difficult part.i really wish i could do that right now. telling yourself 'you'll eventaully get over this' and actually believing it when you feel so hopeless is impossible. A. is the only reason i'm doing this, because i think our break up will benefit him, but it certainly will not me.
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