I was talking to mother tonight as we went for our walk (to promote lessening of body mass) about friends. Then I came home and thought it was high time I considered the things I have learned from my friends.
Number one: If your friend/s do not take a shine to somebody, there is a good reason for this. Listen. Learn. These people are your friends for a reason. If they don't like somebody, it's inevitably because I've managed to miss something. I like to think that I can pick up the subtle signals that somebody is a raving psychopath, but my own bias tends to often colour my view (well, more like occasionally seeing as I'm obviously perfect most of the time...riiiiight), so that I stop myself from seeing certain unfavourable characteristics in a person (eg, those of a psychopath, although thankfully I haven't actually encountered any of those...yet).
Number 2: When your friend/facebook husband says to you "what subjects are you going to do for uni, I'd like to timetable for you", you bloody well jump at that offer. My fb husband is a wonderful, wonderful person who has the organisational skills of a vulcan (heyo, Stark Trek reference), and is able to navigate the university bureaucracy with a skill that is unmatched by any living human. This is particularly helpful when timetabling and subject selection is an absolute bitch. Didn't I feel pretty impressive when I went to the advice day and heard people all around me bitching about what subjects they wanted to do and the difficulties of timetabling. Although less organisationally satisfying were his words of "I expect this enthusiasm to dissipate somewhere between second semester and second year". They're probably true though.
Number three: Sometimes, your friends know you better than you know yourself. It can range from when you're talking to them at 9.30pm, the night before your final biology exam and you say "I'll just read over my notes once more before I go to bed", to which the response is simply "Princess...". It can be simply a "You know you want to sleep with him, don't deny it", or even one look at you when you say hello to them for them to ask "What's wrong?" and you didn't even realise something was wrong in the first place.
That being said, there are those times when your friends aren't right (see how I euphemistically said 'aren't righht', instead of 'downright wrong'?). There are cases when you do know best goddamnit! And even when you actually know better rather than being stubborn, which is what I am guilty of (there! I admitted it!! happy?).
One thing I do know though, is that my friends will always have my back.
Awwwwww
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
The joys of university bureaucracy (sarcasm alert)
So I'm enrolling. Lucky me.
It was exciting for about two seconds. Then it just got annoying. I have been warned about the horrors of the university, however the glory of it is impossible to grasp until you actually are in the position of having to actually do this yourself.
I actually wonder how this was designed.
I mean, I dislike the way that to actually get the subjects that I want into my timetable to get the majors that I want, I have to ditch subjects that I really really would love to do.
But the big thing that I find impossible to deal with, is that the website is so user-unfriendly that I simply cannot believe this was created easily. I was talking to my elder sister today, who said that the university arts faculty attempts to determine the way in which they can best torment the students, and I think the first encounter we as students get, is the delightful enrollment system.
I may not know a lot about creating an enrollment site, but wouldn't it actually be easier to create a simple enrollment list? The energy used to create something as ridiculously impossible as this would honestly be more than creating something that is simple, practical, and straightforward.
Or, maybe academics find it amusing to create something as difficult as possible.
And I've been warned that the worst is yet to come. Joy of joys.
It was exciting for about two seconds. Then it just got annoying. I have been warned about the horrors of the university, however the glory of it is impossible to grasp until you actually are in the position of having to actually do this yourself.
I actually wonder how this was designed.
I mean, I dislike the way that to actually get the subjects that I want into my timetable to get the majors that I want, I have to ditch subjects that I really really would love to do.
But the big thing that I find impossible to deal with, is that the website is so user-unfriendly that I simply cannot believe this was created easily. I was talking to my elder sister today, who said that the university arts faculty attempts to determine the way in which they can best torment the students, and I think the first encounter we as students get, is the delightful enrollment system.
I may not know a lot about creating an enrollment site, but wouldn't it actually be easier to create a simple enrollment list? The energy used to create something as ridiculously impossible as this would honestly be more than creating something that is simple, practical, and straightforward.
Or, maybe academics find it amusing to create something as difficult as possible.
And I've been warned that the worst is yet to come. Joy of joys.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
I am not motivated enough to come up with a title
I wonder if conversations can change your life?
Not a particularly definitive way to start a blog entry, but I'm feeling reflective today. I was all set to post about my antics in a shoe store where the poor salesman didn't quite grasp that I don't run...ever (although I may have misrepresented myself by being in the store to begin with), then some assorted conversations that I have had over the past few days preyed on my mind to the point where they have formed a coherent idea for a post.
What is within a conversation? I guess on its most superficial level, a conversation is the exchange of words between two or more people, revolving around an idea, or ideas. It is communication.
Is there anything beneath my definition? I honestly don't know. But I know that one conversation I have had in recent days in particular, is sticking in my mind.
I was sitting by the river, eating chips (and being eaten by mosquitoes) at night, looking across the city and the city lights (contemplating in some part of my mind how damn beautiful I actually find the city), and talking to somebody whom I consider to be one of the most wonderful people I have ever met. In fact, I sent that person a text after I got home that night telling them that through knowing them (and through my conversations with them) I think I am a better person, because of the way in which she challenges me through our conversations.
The large majority of our conversations turn into debates, where (invariably) I will make a claim, and she will proceed to tear it apart. I said as much to her, and she suggested a system were if I make a claim not properly considered she can simply say 'invalid claim, please try again', but I wouldn't take her up on that unless I were mentally drained beyond the point of coherency, because I enjoy it too much. Anyway, I'll stop going into this one specific case, as she reads my blog, and I don't want to embarrass her, but I think I should simply say when she moves away, words (heh geddit, conversations, words?) simply will never be sufficient to describe how very terribly I will miss her, and our conversations.
To jump to another example, a conversation I had with somebody on Friday night. It was perhaps not as self-challenging as my previous example, however it certainly made me think.
First of all, it nearly destroyed my love of Frasier, a show which practically defined my childhood (screw Playschool). Then, it got me thinking about the female stereotype in relation to sex. More specifically, why there are male roles such as Hank Moody in Californication, and they are accepted as just generally having a hyperactive sex drive, whereas a female in a similar sexually promiscuous role would be assumed to have 'baggage', causing her hypersexuality. Anyway, this particular conversation also got me thinking (and got me interested). I like conversations that get me thinking (and laughing, but they rarely overlap).
And finally, to finish this thought, I find it rather depressing when I have one good conversation with a person, and then I don't again, for whatever reason. That's just teasing me.
Not a particularly definitive way to start a blog entry, but I'm feeling reflective today. I was all set to post about my antics in a shoe store where the poor salesman didn't quite grasp that I don't run...ever (although I may have misrepresented myself by being in the store to begin with), then some assorted conversations that I have had over the past few days preyed on my mind to the point where they have formed a coherent idea for a post.
What is within a conversation? I guess on its most superficial level, a conversation is the exchange of words between two or more people, revolving around an idea, or ideas. It is communication.
Is there anything beneath my definition? I honestly don't know. But I know that one conversation I have had in recent days in particular, is sticking in my mind.
I was sitting by the river, eating chips (and being eaten by mosquitoes) at night, looking across the city and the city lights (contemplating in some part of my mind how damn beautiful I actually find the city), and talking to somebody whom I consider to be one of the most wonderful people I have ever met. In fact, I sent that person a text after I got home that night telling them that through knowing them (and through my conversations with them) I think I am a better person, because of the way in which she challenges me through our conversations.
The large majority of our conversations turn into debates, where (invariably) I will make a claim, and she will proceed to tear it apart. I said as much to her, and she suggested a system were if I make a claim not properly considered she can simply say 'invalid claim, please try again', but I wouldn't take her up on that unless I were mentally drained beyond the point of coherency, because I enjoy it too much. Anyway, I'll stop going into this one specific case, as she reads my blog, and I don't want to embarrass her, but I think I should simply say when she moves away, words (heh geddit, conversations, words?) simply will never be sufficient to describe how very terribly I will miss her, and our conversations.
To jump to another example, a conversation I had with somebody on Friday night. It was perhaps not as self-challenging as my previous example, however it certainly made me think.
First of all, it nearly destroyed my love of Frasier, a show which practically defined my childhood (screw Playschool). Then, it got me thinking about the female stereotype in relation to sex. More specifically, why there are male roles such as Hank Moody in Californication, and they are accepted as just generally having a hyperactive sex drive, whereas a female in a similar sexually promiscuous role would be assumed to have 'baggage', causing her hypersexuality. Anyway, this particular conversation also got me thinking (and got me interested). I like conversations that get me thinking (and laughing, but they rarely overlap).
And finally, to finish this thought, I find it rather depressing when I have one good conversation with a person, and then I don't again, for whatever reason. That's just teasing me.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Those people you love to hate
My least favourite type of people, moreso than the ones who i just outright hate, are those who have that quality that redeems them, just when you are ready to kill them.
I will probably reverse that decision at some point in the future, because I do hate stupid people, with a fire that rages within me. However, the person-who-you-are-ready-to-kill-then-goes-and-does-something-not-hate-inducing, is probably the type of person who frustrates me most.
The reasons are thus:
First of all, you never know if they are going to inspire the killer within you, or be tolerable. I am a pedant, in that I like to be aware of what your outing will be like. As someone who is not a major fan of humanity in general, if I choose to meet up with somebody, it is generally because I enjoy their company. The PWYARTKTGADSNOI, as they shall now be called, does not inspire the desire to meet up for a good time, as one never knows what the time will be like with them.
With me so far?
Not only this, but the PWYARTKTGADSNOI is never fully categorised. As someone who loves to categorise, this is really frustrating. I can't decide if i like this person, or not.
I hate to cut this carefully thought out blogpost short, but I'm re-watching 'Easy A', and it's highly distracting.
Make up your own conclusions about people who you don't know if you like or dislike, and if they have a redeemable feature, or if it's just your own conscience trying to stop you from hating too many people.
I will probably reverse that decision at some point in the future, because I do hate stupid people, with a fire that rages within me. However, the person-who-you-are-ready-to-kill-then-goes-and-does-something-not-hate-inducing, is probably the type of person who frustrates me most.
The reasons are thus:
First of all, you never know if they are going to inspire the killer within you, or be tolerable. I am a pedant, in that I like to be aware of what your outing will be like. As someone who is not a major fan of humanity in general, if I choose to meet up with somebody, it is generally because I enjoy their company. The PWYARTKTGADSNOI, as they shall now be called, does not inspire the desire to meet up for a good time, as one never knows what the time will be like with them.
With me so far?
Not only this, but the PWYARTKTGADSNOI is never fully categorised. As someone who loves to categorise, this is really frustrating. I can't decide if i like this person, or not.
I hate to cut this carefully thought out blogpost short, but I'm re-watching 'Easy A', and it's highly distracting.
Make up your own conclusions about people who you don't know if you like or dislike, and if they have a redeemable feature, or if it's just your own conscience trying to stop you from hating too many people.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Things I highly recommend you never say to a woman (amongst other things)
A long title I know, but I just finished watching a continental film, so my mind is a bit everywhere.
So, the other night, somebody said to me, 'Michael thinks your boobs are too big'. This person has a certain knack for saying things like this, which (I'm not altogether sure, but I think he believes them to be 'great' opening lines) tend to offend. Deeply. And this particular gem got me thinking. What are the things one simply should not say to a woman? This is one of them. In fact, it goes at the top of my list.
Unless she brings it up, leave her chest alone. I personally never believed a woman could have boobs big enough to be acceptable - indeed I thought that for the majority of men, the only truly satisfactory level of boob is just around the level of walking breasts, or breasts on legs (thereby satisfying both the 'leg man' and the 'chest man'). However, with this stunning revelation, I am forced to consider that perhaps I am wrong, now you can be too chesty? Brings to mind 'this porridge is too hot...and this porridge is too cold'.
The second thing which I find particularly offensive (although this is perhaps because I hear it every single time I'm with a particular group of guys who are talking about the 'best pickup lines' is: 'does this rag smell like chloroform to you?' Just no. It's not funny, nor is it likely to make her take pity on you. Sorry.
Actually, now that I think about it, both of these lines originate from the same source. Perhaps we must consider that he is just an excellent example of what not to do. A case, even, to be studied.
Assuming he reads this, he might even be pleased to note that he is in my blog, as he has repeatedly demanded that I incorporate him into my 'next post'. So he has made it. For those of you who don't know who this is, be glad, for those of you that have an idea, you're probably right, and I hope you have enjoyed this. For those of you who are lost, I do apologise.
On to one more matter, and a comment, no, I lie, two, you lucky things, which I hope you appreciate.
There are some people who make me get up in the morning. There are some people for whom I would walk over burning hot coals for. One of these such people puts up with me on a far too regular basis, bearing with me to watch stupid, terrible movies with me, at my insistence. You can imagine that comments would accompany this.
When I told him that I had just (totally legally) downloaded Resident Evil 4: Afterlife, the response was 'oh happy day'.
When I told him that I thought we should watch Burlesque (in cinemas January 13 in case any of you were interested), and told him to look up the trailer, I received this remark a few moments later: 'Cher AND Christina Aguilera? Fabulous. I just cannot wait. Who ever thought we'd be this lucky.'
These are things which, if you have a close female friend, I recommend you do say, as they make her laugh. And I know when I find somebody who makes me laugh, I consider them a blessing.
That being said watching Le Placard, a french (duh) comedy the likes of which only the french can do, also makes me laugh. So...you're all replaceable.
Just kidding
So, the other night, somebody said to me, 'Michael thinks your boobs are too big'. This person has a certain knack for saying things like this, which (I'm not altogether sure, but I think he believes them to be 'great' opening lines) tend to offend. Deeply. And this particular gem got me thinking. What are the things one simply should not say to a woman? This is one of them. In fact, it goes at the top of my list.
Unless she brings it up, leave her chest alone. I personally never believed a woman could have boobs big enough to be acceptable - indeed I thought that for the majority of men, the only truly satisfactory level of boob is just around the level of walking breasts, or breasts on legs (thereby satisfying both the 'leg man' and the 'chest man'). However, with this stunning revelation, I am forced to consider that perhaps I am wrong, now you can be too chesty? Brings to mind 'this porridge is too hot...and this porridge is too cold'.
The second thing which I find particularly offensive (although this is perhaps because I hear it every single time I'm with a particular group of guys who are talking about the 'best pickup lines' is: 'does this rag smell like chloroform to you?' Just no. It's not funny, nor is it likely to make her take pity on you. Sorry.
Actually, now that I think about it, both of these lines originate from the same source. Perhaps we must consider that he is just an excellent example of what not to do. A case, even, to be studied.
Assuming he reads this, he might even be pleased to note that he is in my blog, as he has repeatedly demanded that I incorporate him into my 'next post'. So he has made it. For those of you who don't know who this is, be glad, for those of you that have an idea, you're probably right, and I hope you have enjoyed this. For those of you who are lost, I do apologise.
On to one more matter, and a comment, no, I lie, two, you lucky things, which I hope you appreciate.
There are some people who make me get up in the morning. There are some people for whom I would walk over burning hot coals for. One of these such people puts up with me on a far too regular basis, bearing with me to watch stupid, terrible movies with me, at my insistence. You can imagine that comments would accompany this.
When I told him that I had just (totally legally) downloaded Resident Evil 4: Afterlife, the response was 'oh happy day'.
When I told him that I thought we should watch Burlesque (in cinemas January 13 in case any of you were interested), and told him to look up the trailer, I received this remark a few moments later: 'Cher AND Christina Aguilera? Fabulous. I just cannot wait. Who ever thought we'd be this lucky.'
These are things which, if you have a close female friend, I recommend you do say, as they make her laugh. And I know when I find somebody who makes me laugh, I consider them a blessing.
That being said watching Le Placard, a french (duh) comedy the likes of which only the french can do, also makes me laugh. So...you're all replaceable.
Just kidding
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Blogspot is better than Tumbr
Yes, there, I've said it. Take that, tumblr people.
But I assume you'll want me to justify this radical claim. Here are some of my reasons:
First of all, the name, 'tumblr'. I mean seriously, try to say it. There are a couple of problems I have with that, without the vowel at the send, it becomes 'tumBLAGH', and that just sounds like someone's throwing up.
Second of all...(well to be honest, if you need to read past the iffy name I'm not sure what I can do to convince you), being on Tumblr makes you kinda like a whore, because you flash your newest post onto facebook with the little 'integrated into facebook' thingy that posts the first line or so of the newest post onto the facebook wallfeed, and makes you want to read it, even if you weren't intending to!!! (and if you clicked upon this article through a link i posted on facebook, it wasn't integrated into facebook, so hush)
Tumbler, sorry....Tumblr, in face, I think I may refer to it simply as Tumblagh for the rest of this article, is like those annoying hipsters who are trying sooo hard to be 'indie'. And so much of it is just re-blogged. I am not a fan of re-blogged things, although there is something rather fitting about it. The hipster is basically a recycled idea, often unoriginal in music taste or fashion sense (I read a great post about this), and this continues on to re-blogging other ideas or posts. I find it frustrating.
Anyway, I keep being distracted by Pinkie and the Brain clearly intellectual material that surpasses everything. I leave with my thoughts on Tumblagh.
Also, for those of you who read it, what does Hyperbole and a Half use? Blogspot. Yeah....
But I assume you'll want me to justify this radical claim. Here are some of my reasons:
First of all, the name, 'tumblr'. I mean seriously, try to say it. There are a couple of problems I have with that, without the vowel at the send, it becomes 'tumBLAGH', and that just sounds like someone's throwing up.
Second of all...(well to be honest, if you need to read past the iffy name I'm not sure what I can do to convince you), being on Tumblr makes you kinda like a whore, because you flash your newest post onto facebook with the little 'integrated into facebook' thingy that posts the first line or so of the newest post onto the facebook wallfeed, and makes you want to read it, even if you weren't intending to!!! (and if you clicked upon this article through a link i posted on facebook, it wasn't integrated into facebook, so hush)
Tumbler, sorry....Tumblr, in face, I think I may refer to it simply as Tumblagh for the rest of this article, is like those annoying hipsters who are trying sooo hard to be 'indie'. And so much of it is just re-blogged. I am not a fan of re-blogged things, although there is something rather fitting about it. The hipster is basically a recycled idea, often unoriginal in music taste or fashion sense (I read a great post about this), and this continues on to re-blogging other ideas or posts. I find it frustrating.
Anyway, I keep being distracted by Pinkie and the Brain clearly intellectual material that surpasses everything. I leave with my thoughts on Tumblagh.
Also, for those of you who read it, what does Hyperbole and a Half use? Blogspot. Yeah....
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)