Well my phone got cut off, for real this time. But I paid the bill today so in a few days it should be operational.
I totally failed my chemistry exam on Thursday. This semester's been a shambles. I now have to make sure I pass the QM exam I've got on Wednesday which I wasn't even going to go to. Because if I don't, there's a good chance I'll be kicked out.
So no fun for me until after Wednesday.
But guess what happens then.
I move out to Brunswick! My new home will be Albion St, and my new family will be Talkshow Boy, Carol, Bianca, Metal and a whole bunch of cats. Yara just called me before and said he's moving out tonight, so I can start moving my stuff in whenever I want, but I figure it's best to leave all that until after my exam or I'll lose focus. It's wierd, I haven't really been able to get as excited as I should be about what is one of the biggest and most excellent changes in my life because of all this uni crap I've got to worry about. But come Wednesday I'm going to go nuts. You should all join me.
So all in all, mixed emotions. I can't wait to move out, but I've got to keep a lid on it until I can get uni out of the way. It's frustrating.
And just to top it off, I'm home alone this weekend. Home alone for my last weekend ever in this house. And I can't even enjoy it! Irony, you cruel bitch!
I hope you all are well, and I will see you shortly.
If you've tried to contact me and found it difficult, there is a reason. My phone has been cut off because I haven't paid my bills. Oh me, oh my.
If you've got anything important to say to me, you have three options;
a) post it here
b) email me at email@example.com
c) ring me at home on 9370 4287 but then you probably have to deal with my parents
I'm going to be away all weekend watching Brian try not to plummet to his death, so I won't get any contact until Monday I guess. But if it's really urgent ring Brian, Hotdog or Sam and you should be able to get onto me.
Wow, I'm really making a habit of this. It's all good though, as I was going to quit in a couple of weeks. I've already got a new job in a call centre that seems much better than FUCKING COLLECTIONS. Ugh, what a horrible place that was. The only upside was my fellow workers who were a great bunch of peeps. But I'm going to have better ones in my new job, including the Nevinator, whose going to be working with me again at this new place.
When Emma from 'Select Teleresources' let me know, she said "I don't think you're suited to a corporate role", breaking it to me gently like that was some kind of insult. OMG, really? But how am I ever going to work for 30 years climbing the corporate ladder? MY LIFE IS OVER!
So I've got a week off until training for my new job starts next week. I wonder how much pot I can smoke in that time?
I finally finished that essay? What essay? The one that was due two and a half weeks ago. Ah yes, that essay.
That no-doz was a bad idea. I didn't really need it and it's keeping me from what I really need, which is sleep.
At least I got that essay done. Which essay? We've been over this.
Double spacing makes it look like I've written more.
Should I try to sleep? I don't think the iPod's helping.
I've figured out how to forge medical certificates. It makes dodging work much easier.
Whenever I type in what music I'm listening to I always forget whether I usually type the band first or the song first. I have to go check and old post to find out. Usually by the time I've checked the song's finished and I have to type in the next song that plays. I wouldn't care if I wasn't so pedantic.
God I'm so glad I finished that essay. What essay? Shut up.
Good moods, like bad moods, can come out of nowhere. I've come to the conclusion that my feelings are totally random and I don't understand myself in the least. Anyway, on with the post. My exam results were good, much better than I expected. 69% for biology and 79% for psychology. They are the two best exam results I've ever gotten. Even my mum was pleased for once. Paintball was genius. The place we stayed at was absolutely awesome, a brilliant little cottage out the back of some guy's house. The only problem was that you couldn't smoke inside, meaning we had to go outside every time we wanted a joint or a cigarette. Speaking of joints, my joint-rolling skills have jumped up a notch ever since I started copying the two paper style I saw Adrian using. I can now roll joints that I'm really happy to smoke, which is strange because I usually much prefer bongs or pipes. Anyway, back to paintball. I kept getting shot in the face, which was kind of funny. Every time I'd walk out with paint all over my mask and have to get it all cleaned off. I also got shot on the ass three times in the last game, which was painful as hell. Hehe, I almost wrote 'paintful'. Once we got back we proceeded to show off our war wounds and then drunk and smoked the night away. It ended with a patented Nev Green-Out Session which I now have a greater appreciation for than I once did. The next day after a tiring trip home (in which Hotdog and Nev got kicked out of KFC for wearing pyjamas) I finally went to the doctor to fix this stupid cough. I got a new type of inhaler and some antibiotics. She also said if it's not cleared up in a week I'll need a chest x-ray, but it's already much better. I had my final day off work today. I spent the day lazing around at home putting some things into perspective, which was sorely needed. Boy some things get confusing, but the trick is to fix the things you can and let go of the things you can't. I let go of a lot today. Bourkey out.
Hi everybody. How are we all? Good? That's good. I'm not bad. Thanks for asking. I've been kind of busy recently. Work's been good. Tiring, but good. It's strange working in a workplace with so many other people, but luckily nobody (since that nutjob Irene got booted) really bothers me. Quite the opposite actually, I get along well with most people there, and a few especially well. One thing that's annoying me is that no matter how much I earn per week I always manage to run out of money a few days before my pay day. I must learn to save. I had a great (albeit strange) weekend. Talkshow Boy and Spitfire Parade were awesome on Friday, resulting in an awesome night all around. Saturday was even better. I love how all it takes for a good time is a bunch of great people and some drinking. Simple as that. The endless truth or dare probably had something to do with it too. I think the prize for best dare has to go to Hotdog for that sexy sexy dance. Last night was fun but painful. We watched the soccer at some place in Melbourne Central. Anyone else who watched it will know what I mean by painful. Totally robbed. I'll leave it at that. On an unrelated note, I've come to realise my mind is my worst enemy and I have pledged to ignore that fucker until he decides to treat me better.
Here's a lyrics quiz, because I can't think of anything else to write.
In the 1950’s Harlow was given the challenge of raising infant monkey’s and ensuring that their survival rate would be greater than that raised by cage raised mothers. In delivering diets rich in vitamins, iron extracts, penicillin, chloromycetin, 5% glucose, etc, Harlow decided to study the development of affectional responses of neonatal and infant monkeys to an artificial, inanimate mother, and so he built a surrogate mother which he “hoped and believed” would be a good surrogate mother. The surrogate was made from a block of wood, covered with sponge rubber, and sheathed in tan cotton terry cloth. A light bulb behind her radiated heat. The result was a “mother” that was soft and warm. Harlow constructed a second mother surrogate, a surrogate in which he deliberately built less than the maximal capability for contact comfort. This “mother” was made of wire-mesh, a substance that Harlow suggested was entirely adequate to provide postural support and nursing capability, and it was warmed by radiant heat. Harlow suggested that the second surrogate’s body differed in no essential way from that of the cloth mother surrogate other than in the quality of the contact comfort which she can supply. Harlow even arranged it so that the wire “mother” could feed the infant while the cloth mother could not. He found that the infants spend the vast proportion of their time on the cloth mother and only went to the wire mother for milk. Harlow noted that ‘These data make it obvious that contact comfort is a variable of overwhelming importance in the development of affectional response [meaning contact comfort], whereas lactation is a variable of negligible importance”.
In other words, affection beat nutrition. Love beat food.
Things I've learned today: Minimal communication with the outside world makes me go silly. Statistics is fuck easy for a maths nerd. Checking livejournal every five minutes is not healthy. Nerds cannot play soccer, especially against prison inmates. You know you drink too much coke when you have an 'old coke' and a 'new coke'. Talking Heads are awesome. Men can get breast cancer too. Being home alone isn't as fun when you have to study. Formula sheets are my best friend. The fish and chip shop lady is really generous (six tartare sauce at no extra charge). I am quite skilled in the art of procrastination. When the leader of the Wise Guys offers to cut you into his drug operation 60/40 when his share should be much higher considering you only sell prescription drugs you swiped from the hospital ward and he sells heroin and pot he probably wants something in return like a promise that you will kill the leader of the blacks for him which will probably start a war between you and the blacks thereby eliminating both you and the blacks in one fell swoop and handing him total control of both the kitchen and the drug trade if not all of Emerald City.
My parents have gone away for the long weekend, leaving me and the house to get better aquainted. I should be studying but instead I've taken to running all over the house climbing on things and jumping off them while listening to Maximo Park, who are fast becoming one of my favourite bands. It's very tiring, but a lot of fun. If I stop for too long I get to thinking about things I'd rather not think about for once. I went and saw Colour Me Kubrick with Kerr tonight, which is a very good movie. John Malkovich was brilliant as always. It's not good that I don't see Kerr as much as I should, and I've resolved to change that. But then again there's a lot of people in that situation. Sam, are you OK? Did you survive? Would you like me to make you some soup? I've got some packets of chicken noodle soup in the cupboard, I'm sure I could figure out how to work them. Oh, everyone should add Max to their friends list, so you can be up to date about her Vietnam adventures. Her username is petertoldmeto.
Crushes are wierd, irrational contsructs. I've currently got one on a girl in my biology pracs (which are now finished, awww) that actually made me want to go to uni. I know, wierd, huh? I missed the last couple of weeks of pracs, first because I was sick, then because of work. So I thought that was the end of it. But who should stroll into my biology exam today and sit right next to me? No, not Peter Costello, not even Princess Mary Donaldson, but the crushee. Great, how the hell could I do my exam under those conditions? Halfway through that exam, which was horrifically painfully hard and destroyed my spirit beyond repair (quick, somebody call Oprah!) I dropped my pencil and it landed right under her chair. It was an accident, I swear. She picks it up and gives it back and gives me this great big smile to go with it. So I'm sitting there in an exam that I'm almost certain I'm failing, meaning I will get kicked out of uni and have to beg on the streets, and I've got the biggest fucken grin on my face just because some girl smiled at me. BRAIN, I HATE YOU. PLEASE WORK NORMALLY FROM NOW ON, OR I SHALL GET ANGRY. By the way, I recovered somewhat in the latter half of the exam, and I now think I'll pass. So no street begging. I hope.
Everyone's out having fun and I'm here studying. Poo. I probably should have gone to those last few weeks of lectures, it would have made things a lot easier. Oh well, live and learn. Actually, I've done this before and I didn't learn that time. Or the time before. This time next semester I'll be sitting there saying "oh crap, I should have gone to those lectures, oh well, that's a lesson learned" and it will be as much bullshit then as it is now. The good news is I think I'll pass. I won't do as well as I wanted to at the start of the semester, but at least I won't get kicked out. At least I think I won't. Well, I hope I won't. Maximo Park are great. My speakers don't do this song any justice. I'll do graffiti if you sing to me in French...