I managed to become sick in time for the first day of Uni. Oh karma, you utter bitch! However, because obviously I did not create this disgusting icky thing which is currently assailing my immune system, I began to search for the culprit who had transmitted this thing to me.
And I found him.
As I was on the bus to O-Week a few days ago, I heard an almighty sneeze. I glanced up, and noticed that the man (he 'aint no gentleman) hadn't moved. This meant he either had ninja-like arms with which to considerately cover his face, or HE DIDN'T. My worst suspicions were confirmed a couple of minutes later, when he sneezed again, and made no movement to cover his mouth.
As a minor germophobe, I felt his airborne germs sailing through the bus to land on me, and I was powerless to stop them.
I regret not leaning over to this inconsiderate cretin, and saying to him 'Excuse me, but that is disgusting, and unhygenic, and I can't believe you would actually be so inconsiderate.' This got me to thinking that perhaps our society needs more vigilantes, the batman of common decency if you will, but more than one - a legion even.
I don't know about you dear reader, but having someone next to me, coughing or sneezing their germs into the very air which I am about to inhale is one of the things in life which is simply terrible, and it is a veritable scourge upon our society. It must be stopped damnit!
Sneezing openly today is a breakdown of courtesy and etiquette, and if we don't say no, tell the world that we don't accept it, it will of course, lead to a breakdown in the order of our very society and ultimately to chaos!
Monday, February 28, 2011
Friday, February 25, 2011
Tolerance in batting for the other side
Something interesting happened to me the other day. Well, to be perfectly honest, it probably wasn't all that interesting to anybody other than me, but I have a blog, so I'm going to share it...ha.
This past week was O-Week at Uni, with clubs to be joined, and all sorts of organisations having picnics and such to put themselves forward for new students to become aware of them. One of these such picnics was the 'Queer Picnic'. Before I go any further (and before you, dear reader, make any hasty judgements on my stance here), I would like to state categorically that I am massively in favour of gay rights. I believe firmly in gay marriage, the right for gay parents to have children (whether it be through adoption or other means), and I think on the whole, there is absolutely nothing wrong with being gay.
I am also apologetically politically right-wing. I went to the Queer Picnic the other day, directly after joining the French Club (to support my subject), and as an impulse-join, the Liberal Club. When I sat down at the Picnic on the grass, I had in my hand, a rather heavy showbag (and some pins!!!), on the side of which, was emblazoned the liberal club's logo. Upon seeing this, a couple of people (who I hadn't even met) made a couple of comments, expressing disdain and disgust for my choice. I chose not to respond, as I was perhaps not in the best place to pick such a fight, but it most certainly got me thinking; for a group that is meant to understand very much, being branded with a stigma, and being hated on for their lifestyle, the response to my choice (and it was hardly like I was standing up there screaming 'LOOK AT WHAT I JUST JOINED EVERYBODY') was one that was surprisingly intolerant.
At this point, I am culling my urges to go on a political rant, citing in depth the fact that the party isn't actually anti-gay per se (and anybody who jumps up and down referencing Tony Abbott, evidently has missed the fact that while he has a set of beliefs, he actually subverts them in favour of advocating the party policy), they simply don't use gay-rights as a platform like other parties do, and various other examples to this end. But I am not, because I don't wish to shove my political beliefs in your face, dearest readers (maybe at another point). The main point which I am trying to make is that for people who are part of a group that is not shown a lot of tolerance across the board, one would think that they in turn would extend tolerance towards me. I was after all, at their picnic, obviously someone who supported them. The oppositions are obviously the Christian Union(s).
Having said this, I am sure there were people at the Queer Picnic, who were actually gay, and supported the liberal party, it is also that, as mother said when I relayed the story to her in frustration, 'it's very fashionable to be left at University'. I laughed.
Anyway, I hope this makes some sort of sense, and I do apologise for any spelling errors – I'm typing on a tiny keyboard as my IT man (aka Dad), has taken away my computer for some TLC and a bit of a system fix up, as I treat my computer shockingly.
Keep calm and carry on.
This past week was O-Week at Uni, with clubs to be joined, and all sorts of organisations having picnics and such to put themselves forward for new students to become aware of them. One of these such picnics was the 'Queer Picnic'. Before I go any further (and before you, dear reader, make any hasty judgements on my stance here), I would like to state categorically that I am massively in favour of gay rights. I believe firmly in gay marriage, the right for gay parents to have children (whether it be through adoption or other means), and I think on the whole, there is absolutely nothing wrong with being gay.
I am also apologetically politically right-wing. I went to the Queer Picnic the other day, directly after joining the French Club (to support my subject), and as an impulse-join, the Liberal Club. When I sat down at the Picnic on the grass, I had in my hand, a rather heavy showbag (and some pins!!!), on the side of which, was emblazoned the liberal club's logo. Upon seeing this, a couple of people (who I hadn't even met) made a couple of comments, expressing disdain and disgust for my choice. I chose not to respond, as I was perhaps not in the best place to pick such a fight, but it most certainly got me thinking; for a group that is meant to understand very much, being branded with a stigma, and being hated on for their lifestyle, the response to my choice (and it was hardly like I was standing up there screaming 'LOOK AT WHAT I JUST JOINED EVERYBODY') was one that was surprisingly intolerant.
At this point, I am culling my urges to go on a political rant, citing in depth the fact that the party isn't actually anti-gay per se (and anybody who jumps up and down referencing Tony Abbott, evidently has missed the fact that while he has a set of beliefs, he actually subverts them in favour of advocating the party policy), they simply don't use gay-rights as a platform like other parties do, and various other examples to this end. But I am not, because I don't wish to shove my political beliefs in your face, dearest readers (maybe at another point). The main point which I am trying to make is that for people who are part of a group that is not shown a lot of tolerance across the board, one would think that they in turn would extend tolerance towards me. I was after all, at their picnic, obviously someone who supported them. The oppositions are obviously the Christian Union(s).
Having said this, I am sure there were people at the Queer Picnic, who were actually gay, and supported the liberal party, it is also that, as mother said when I relayed the story to her in frustration, 'it's very fashionable to be left at University'. I laughed.
Anyway, I hope this makes some sort of sense, and I do apologise for any spelling errors – I'm typing on a tiny keyboard as my IT man (aka Dad), has taken away my computer for some TLC and a bit of a system fix up, as I treat my computer shockingly.
Keep calm and carry on.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Litmus Tests
So apparently I do this thing, where I smile in a particular way at people. The Husband, has named it 'The Alice'. As the much-anticipated O-Week starts this week, I suggested I could just do The Alice, and enchant people that way. He suggested it would be a litmus test. If people aren't enchanted by The Alice, then they can resist my darling smile, and therefore may require more time, and therefore yield a beneficial friendship. Quoth The Husband, 'Resistance indicates failure of one sort. But success of another. More backbone. That's what we like to see'.
It sort of got me thinking, what are my litmus tests for people?
Well, firstly, that they know what a litmus test is.
Secondly, their use of the English language, and whether or not they butcher it. I have learned the hard way that a man who butchers the English language, is one who is not worthy.
Thirdly, someone who does not really bother with small talk. My friend who is doing law at another University, just suggested that she was questioning why she ever wanted to do it, as it required small talk, a social nicety which she was not fond of in any way, shape, or form. I can identify with this. While I can do small talk (ok that's a blatant lie, when I really need to, I can sort of do small talk, but only when really forced to), I prefer big talk. Launching right into the things which actually interest me. Who the hell actually wants to talk about the weather? Seriously.
Sadly I must end this here, as my cat is purring and awkwardly nestled against my arm (and being as inconveniently adorable as possible), making the typing of this excessively difficult.
I will leave you with this thought. Probably one of the best things I've seen in a while. And of course, it goes with my undying love for William Shatner. Everything he is in is simply gold. Here it is.
Oh, and one final confession. I actually can't bring myself to hate Justin Bieber. I actually kinda like him. It's a bit like Lady GaGa....kinda grows on you.
It sort of got me thinking, what are my litmus tests for people?
Well, firstly, that they know what a litmus test is.
Secondly, their use of the English language, and whether or not they butcher it. I have learned the hard way that a man who butchers the English language, is one who is not worthy.
Thirdly, someone who does not really bother with small talk. My friend who is doing law at another University, just suggested that she was questioning why she ever wanted to do it, as it required small talk, a social nicety which she was not fond of in any way, shape, or form. I can identify with this. While I can do small talk (ok that's a blatant lie, when I really need to, I can sort of do small talk, but only when really forced to), I prefer big talk. Launching right into the things which actually interest me. Who the hell actually wants to talk about the weather? Seriously.
Sadly I must end this here, as my cat is purring and awkwardly nestled against my arm (and being as inconveniently adorable as possible), making the typing of this excessively difficult.
I will leave you with this thought. Probably one of the best things I've seen in a while. And of course, it goes with my undying love for William Shatner. Everything he is in is simply gold. Here it is.
Oh, and one final confession. I actually can't bring myself to hate Justin Bieber. I actually kinda like him. It's a bit like Lady GaGa....kinda grows on you.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Crunchies and a tidy room
I have felt no motivation to do much in the way of blogposts in recent days. Probably because a friend exclaimed joyfully that I continued blogging and provided entertainment, thereby putting the pressure on to produce something of worth, rather than the usual mindless drivel I generally produce.
Today's piece focuses on something many of my peers will find a near and dear subject to them; the issue of tidying one's room.
The Husband was over yesterday. Before I launch into the topic I just this second came up with, and decided would be excellent material, I will share with you this anecdote, for I feel it is amusing, and you will all find it amusing too goddamnit!
So, a few months back, when I was doing the ol' year 12, The Husband said to me 'if you get above 90, I will buy you $100 worth of crunchies'. There is a back story to why crunchies, to briefly summise, I said to him once 'but they taste better when you buy them for me'. So I got over 90, and he had to pay up. Yesterday, was pay day.
I picked him up at the supermarket, so I could sadistically watch him calculate $100 worth of crunchies, and then have this amount rung up by a bewildered cashier. As I was driving there, I got a text, suggesting that 'I look like a psycho with a crunchie obsession'. Then there was the counting (sadly Coles had specials on, which made the mental arithmetic much easier, much to my dismay). I admit, the shelves were quite bare of crunchies by the time we were done. I also learned a lesson; filling a shopping basked with crunchies, will get people looking at you as if you have a mental problem.
Then there was the cashier. I was not disappointed, as the glances we received from the cashier were ones of deep surprise with a touch of suspicion. I particularly liked the touch of the single pack of mint crisp timtams which we put right at the end. I like to think that this cashier would have recounted this story to her friends, thus putting our saga of crunchie purchasing into the universe.
But. Several crunchies into the day, The Husband ventured into my room, making loud comments about the state of it. It is my observation that there are people who are fanatically neat, those who generally inhabit states of general disarray and therefore can never find anything yet are content within their mess, and finally those who would ideally be neat, yet find that often they are in a state of general untidiness, yet can find anything and everything within this mess (aka the heap system). I am one of the third. The Husband is one of the first.
I genuinely believe if causes him physical pain to see my room in its natural state of mess, with things strewn on the floor and, for that matter, every available surface. I can find anything within my room instantly, however it is not neat, or tidy. I am like my father, whose office is truly something to be amazed at. Books lie in haphazard piles, with no obvious system to the piles, his desk is just awash with papers, some even hiding the keyboard when he isn't using it. I haven't ventured into his draws for quite some time, and frankly, it is a place even I would dare not delve too deep.
But, I mentioned to The Husband, that I should enlist him to clean my room one day (in jest I might add), to which he responded that he would quite like to. So we did a little clean. I am sitting on my bed, staring at one of the areas we cleaned, and it is indeed neat, and tidy, and beautifully ordered.A far better job than I could ever have hoped to achieve on my own. Guess who's coming around next weekend?
I don't really think there is any great conclusion to be drawn from this post. Other than, if you are not a person who is tidy by nature, have a friend who is, so they can help you tidy. And buy you lots of crunchies.
At least this year as I struggle through first year Uni, I will have a tidy room, and I'll at least be able to survive off crunchies for a good six months.
Today's piece focuses on something many of my peers will find a near and dear subject to them; the issue of tidying one's room.
The Husband was over yesterday. Before I launch into the topic I just this second came up with, and decided would be excellent material, I will share with you this anecdote, for I feel it is amusing, and you will all find it amusing too goddamnit!
So, a few months back, when I was doing the ol' year 12, The Husband said to me 'if you get above 90, I will buy you $100 worth of crunchies'. There is a back story to why crunchies, to briefly summise, I said to him once 'but they taste better when you buy them for me'. So I got over 90, and he had to pay up. Yesterday, was pay day.
I picked him up at the supermarket, so I could sadistically watch him calculate $100 worth of crunchies, and then have this amount rung up by a bewildered cashier. As I was driving there, I got a text, suggesting that 'I look like a psycho with a crunchie obsession'. Then there was the counting (sadly Coles had specials on, which made the mental arithmetic much easier, much to my dismay). I admit, the shelves were quite bare of crunchies by the time we were done. I also learned a lesson; filling a shopping basked with crunchies, will get people looking at you as if you have a mental problem.
Then there was the cashier. I was not disappointed, as the glances we received from the cashier were ones of deep surprise with a touch of suspicion. I particularly liked the touch of the single pack of mint crisp timtams which we put right at the end. I like to think that this cashier would have recounted this story to her friends, thus putting our saga of crunchie purchasing into the universe.
But. Several crunchies into the day, The Husband ventured into my room, making loud comments about the state of it. It is my observation that there are people who are fanatically neat, those who generally inhabit states of general disarray and therefore can never find anything yet are content within their mess, and finally those who would ideally be neat, yet find that often they are in a state of general untidiness, yet can find anything and everything within this mess (aka the heap system). I am one of the third. The Husband is one of the first.
I genuinely believe if causes him physical pain to see my room in its natural state of mess, with things strewn on the floor and, for that matter, every available surface. I can find anything within my room instantly, however it is not neat, or tidy. I am like my father, whose office is truly something to be amazed at. Books lie in haphazard piles, with no obvious system to the piles, his desk is just awash with papers, some even hiding the keyboard when he isn't using it. I haven't ventured into his draws for quite some time, and frankly, it is a place even I would dare not delve too deep.
But, I mentioned to The Husband, that I should enlist him to clean my room one day (in jest I might add), to which he responded that he would quite like to. So we did a little clean. I am sitting on my bed, staring at one of the areas we cleaned, and it is indeed neat, and tidy, and beautifully ordered.A far better job than I could ever have hoped to achieve on my own. Guess who's coming around next weekend?
I don't really think there is any great conclusion to be drawn from this post. Other than, if you are not a person who is tidy by nature, have a friend who is, so they can help you tidy. And buy you lots of crunchies.
At least this year as I struggle through first year Uni, I will have a tidy room, and I'll at least be able to survive off crunchies for a good six months.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Being an adult sucks
I was really excited to leave school, to be in the big wide world and seen by all as an adult.
I was having a conversation with a friend who is still in school. This friend confessed to me that he did not want to leave school, because everything was provided for, there was no undue expectations. I disagreed with that, because I cherish my independence and freedom. However there is something getting in the way of me enjoying life as an adult. Everybody else messing things up.
As an adult, it means I have to pay for my own stuff. this isn't so much a problem because I have a job which, while it doesn't pay particularly well, gives me enough money. Budgeting, I find preversely, nearly masochistically enjoyable as I find a feeling of satisfaction, but the required interaction with the rest of the world to handle this money is quite impossible.
Today I tried to start up an account online in which to create a fund for my car's service, registration and insurance, of which I must pay a significant amount, now that I am an adult (and licensed, and in possession of a car...). There was a technical error, and I very basically wound up twice in the space of an hour on the phone to the delightful technical support people who were unable to resolve my problem. I found myself in a terrible mood, having recided countless of times, my name, date of birth, postal code, and the answer to my security question. And it got me nowhere. As I type, my account still does not work.
Going to University is an exciting new beginning, but when I was bitching to my friend that my application for a diploma of languages wasn't processed until well, today, when all other subject registrations were two weeks ago, he replied that as an adult, I'm meant to find all this sort of information out by myself. While I actually argue that the system of my university is actually archaic and in desperate need of an update, as there is technology available to make the administration more user-friendly (and I'll be brutal, better at spoonfeeding me the information I need), the basic fact is too bad, even if I am right. I'm but a measly student, and they are the all-powerful administration, and they lord all the power over me. I can all but hear the manic cackles of glee from them as they observe my pain and rage.
I'll stop this soon, as I have to (maturely) go and ask my mother if I should actually order pizza, as she said that she'd talk to me about it an hour ago, and I am sure to be yelled at if I was meant to order pizza (because I'm an adult now, and adults do these things!).
Responsibility, the fact that now if I do something illegal, I will get thrown into big person jail, paying for everything, dealing with USELESS bureaucracy. It's all part of being an adult.
Do you want to know the worst part though?
I always think to myself 'this is what it must mean to be an adult', when I look at the world, and realise that it really does suck, there's no universal justice system that means good things will happen to good people, and the bad guy will always lose, that people hurt other people, and that your internet connection will always be just that little bit too slow. It's cruel really, all of those hollywood movies, showing the happy ending.
The depressing French movies have the right idea.
Don't be overwhelmed by my optimism.
I was having a conversation with a friend who is still in school. This friend confessed to me that he did not want to leave school, because everything was provided for, there was no undue expectations. I disagreed with that, because I cherish my independence and freedom. However there is something getting in the way of me enjoying life as an adult. Everybody else messing things up.
As an adult, it means I have to pay for my own stuff. this isn't so much a problem because I have a job which, while it doesn't pay particularly well, gives me enough money. Budgeting, I find preversely, nearly masochistically enjoyable as I find a feeling of satisfaction, but the required interaction with the rest of the world to handle this money is quite impossible.
Today I tried to start up an account online in which to create a fund for my car's service, registration and insurance, of which I must pay a significant amount, now that I am an adult (and licensed, and in possession of a car...). There was a technical error, and I very basically wound up twice in the space of an hour on the phone to the delightful technical support people who were unable to resolve my problem. I found myself in a terrible mood, having recided countless of times, my name, date of birth, postal code, and the answer to my security question. And it got me nowhere. As I type, my account still does not work.
Going to University is an exciting new beginning, but when I was bitching to my friend that my application for a diploma of languages wasn't processed until well, today, when all other subject registrations were two weeks ago, he replied that as an adult, I'm meant to find all this sort of information out by myself. While I actually argue that the system of my university is actually archaic and in desperate need of an update, as there is technology available to make the administration more user-friendly (and I'll be brutal, better at spoonfeeding me the information I need), the basic fact is too bad, even if I am right. I'm but a measly student, and they are the all-powerful administration, and they lord all the power over me. I can all but hear the manic cackles of glee from them as they observe my pain and rage.
I'll stop this soon, as I have to (maturely) go and ask my mother if I should actually order pizza, as she said that she'd talk to me about it an hour ago, and I am sure to be yelled at if I was meant to order pizza (because I'm an adult now, and adults do these things!).
Responsibility, the fact that now if I do something illegal, I will get thrown into big person jail, paying for everything, dealing with USELESS bureaucracy. It's all part of being an adult.
Do you want to know the worst part though?
I always think to myself 'this is what it must mean to be an adult', when I look at the world, and realise that it really does suck, there's no universal justice system that means good things will happen to good people, and the bad guy will always lose, that people hurt other people, and that your internet connection will always be just that little bit too slow. It's cruel really, all of those hollywood movies, showing the happy ending.
The depressing French movies have the right idea.
Don't be overwhelmed by my optimism.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
The rantings of an obviously single person
I was going to write a post about how being all grown up (kind of) is a hideously scary and frustrating event, particularly because bank accounts don't allow me to highlight different sums in different colours so I know which money is designated to which spend (I'm a visual person in case you didn't pick up), but I was interrupted by the arrival of my least favourite, yes, even ahead of the much-detested Christmas, 'holiday'.
Valentine's Day.
I realise that by writing this, I am acknowledging its existence and thus validating it in some way, going much along the same logic of my dear friend one night when I asked her if she was going to someone's birthday party, and she responded emphatically, 'NO! because then I'd have to get him a present, which acknowledges his existence, which then validates him as a human being'.
I suppose it's painfully obvious to all that no, I do not have SO (Significant Other), or even an IO (Insignificant Other). I have instead, my mum and godmother coming over tonight, where we shall binge on chocolates (yay!) throw truisms around (eg 'men are all dirty old men if they go after a younger partner, but women are cougars. hell yeah'), and watch boston legal (double yay!!). But before tonight approaches, I would like to share my personal thoughts on this matter with you all, dear readers.
The main objection which I raise to this god-forsaken holiday is clearly that prevelant within it is the colour pink. And I hate pink.
My secondary objection is that there is some supposition that on Valentine's Day, you must be extra-specially nice to your loved one, shower them with gifts and candy and sweet nothings...you get the idea. This is all fine, I am definitely not averse to being showered with gifts and candy - it's kinda like what happens on my birthday (although I hate them too). What I really dislike, is that it sort of sends that message that this is the one day of the year that you are meant to be attentive to your SO/IO, and the rest of the days of the year, you can just sort of ignore them because you have fulfilled the Valentine's Day obligation.
Screw Valentine's Day (god I was censoring myself on that first day), if I'm with somebody, it's because they make me feel special every day of the goddamn year. They tell me that my eyes friggin sparkle with the beauty of a thousand moons. They laboriously translate epic love poems into Klingon and recite them to me so that I can laugh at the stupidity of it.
It looks like at the core I actually am a romantic. How sickeningly disappointing.
Moving past this hideous revelation about my character, I guess the point I am ultimately trying to make, is that if one were to actually give Valentine's Day the (of course) metaphorical finger, and then all the couples of the world could appreciate each other on every other bloody day of the year, I think that would actually make the divorce rates of the world a little lower, at the very least.
That, and us single, misanthropic, near-nihilists, don't have to have the fact of our oneness reinforced at every. single. turn.
This being said, quick shout-out to The Husband, whom I forced to mail me a card. I am eagerly awaiting the arrival of my lovely postie in the hope that it comes today.
Valentine's Day.
I realise that by writing this, I am acknowledging its existence and thus validating it in some way, going much along the same logic of my dear friend one night when I asked her if she was going to someone's birthday party, and she responded emphatically, 'NO! because then I'd have to get him a present, which acknowledges his existence, which then validates him as a human being'.
I suppose it's painfully obvious to all that no, I do not have SO (Significant Other), or even an IO (Insignificant Other). I have instead, my mum and godmother coming over tonight, where we shall binge on chocolates (yay!) throw truisms around (eg 'men are all dirty old men if they go after a younger partner, but women are cougars. hell yeah'), and watch boston legal (double yay!!). But before tonight approaches, I would like to share my personal thoughts on this matter with you all, dear readers.
The main objection which I raise to this god-forsaken holiday is clearly that prevelant within it is the colour pink. And I hate pink.
My secondary objection is that there is some supposition that on Valentine's Day, you must be extra-specially nice to your loved one, shower them with gifts and candy and sweet nothings...you get the idea. This is all fine, I am definitely not averse to being showered with gifts and candy - it's kinda like what happens on my birthday (although I hate them too). What I really dislike, is that it sort of sends that message that this is the one day of the year that you are meant to be attentive to your SO/IO, and the rest of the days of the year, you can just sort of ignore them because you have fulfilled the Valentine's Day obligation.
Screw Valentine's Day (god I was censoring myself on that first day), if I'm with somebody, it's because they make me feel special every day of the goddamn year. They tell me that my eyes friggin sparkle with the beauty of a thousand moons. They laboriously translate epic love poems into Klingon and recite them to me so that I can laugh at the stupidity of it.
It looks like at the core I actually am a romantic. How sickeningly disappointing.
Moving past this hideous revelation about my character, I guess the point I am ultimately trying to make, is that if one were to actually give Valentine's Day the (of course) metaphorical finger, and then all the couples of the world could appreciate each other on every other bloody day of the year, I think that would actually make the divorce rates of the world a little lower, at the very least.
That, and us single, misanthropic, near-nihilists, don't have to have the fact of our oneness reinforced at every. single. turn.
This being said, quick shout-out to The Husband, whom I forced to mail me a card. I am eagerly awaiting the arrival of my lovely postie in the hope that it comes today.
Monday, February 7, 2011
There's a void in my life, which needs filling (that's what she said)
I don't know, I feel like I'm missing something lately.
I've started work in a cafe. It primarily involves interacting with people, something which I have come to realise I am extremely good at, which is ironic, as interacting with people is something I almost cannot abide. I changed career preferences because of it.
Today a whole group of mothers came in with their small children. It was like nails on a blackboard to me. The children set up camp in the middle of the walkway between tables, and interacting with high pitched noises that I assume were the normal register for highly excited younglings. The women themselves sort of ignored me every time I brought a plate of food or took a plate away. It was something that I found disturbing, as my personal philosophy has always been 'be nice to the waiter, it could be you'.
That being said, I did enjoy having the (apparently) millionaire come in. I denied him toast. It was a good moment (I actually gave him toast in the end, but the story has less impact if I tell it that way).
Humanity in general, I find fascinating, but draining. Perhaps work in this cafe is a preclude to anthropology.
But I digress ever so slightly. I'm 18, have my license, have finished school, have a job (not a high paying one, in fact I'd probably be better off sitting at home in my undies in front of a moniter playing the stock market like the fiendish businesswoman that we all know I secretly am, AND I wouldn't have to put on pants), and yet I feel that I'm simply marking time. I feel like there's something important I have to do, and it's simply slipping away from me because I can't see it. I wish I knew what it was. The blind man who is 93 years old who comes into the cafe every day has it down pat. He was born blind, and even managed to work in the army. There's something pretty spectacular about that.
If my life were a movie, I'd have an veritable army of supporting characters to dissect my life with. That being said I do have The Husband who is a damn good therapist. AND he's apparently going to buy me $100 worth of crunchies for getting over a certain number in my end of year results. What more could I ask for?
Several things. An Audi, a Ferrari, a Jag (oh how I love Jags), Jeremy Clarkson, my own jet...you get the materialistic picture.
I will end today on a quote. 'I asked God for a bike, but I know he doesn't work that way. So I stole a bike and asked for forgiveness instead.' It is strangely philosophical, no?
I've started work in a cafe. It primarily involves interacting with people, something which I have come to realise I am extremely good at, which is ironic, as interacting with people is something I almost cannot abide. I changed career preferences because of it.
Today a whole group of mothers came in with their small children. It was like nails on a blackboard to me. The children set up camp in the middle of the walkway between tables, and interacting with high pitched noises that I assume were the normal register for highly excited younglings. The women themselves sort of ignored me every time I brought a plate of food or took a plate away. It was something that I found disturbing, as my personal philosophy has always been 'be nice to the waiter, it could be you'.
That being said, I did enjoy having the (apparently) millionaire come in. I denied him toast. It was a good moment (I actually gave him toast in the end, but the story has less impact if I tell it that way).
Humanity in general, I find fascinating, but draining. Perhaps work in this cafe is a preclude to anthropology.
But I digress ever so slightly. I'm 18, have my license, have finished school, have a job (not a high paying one, in fact I'd probably be better off sitting at home in my undies in front of a moniter playing the stock market like the fiendish businesswoman that we all know I secretly am, AND I wouldn't have to put on pants), and yet I feel that I'm simply marking time. I feel like there's something important I have to do, and it's simply slipping away from me because I can't see it. I wish I knew what it was. The blind man who is 93 years old who comes into the cafe every day has it down pat. He was born blind, and even managed to work in the army. There's something pretty spectacular about that.
If my life were a movie, I'd have an veritable army of supporting characters to dissect my life with. That being said I do have The Husband who is a damn good therapist. AND he's apparently going to buy me $100 worth of crunchies for getting over a certain number in my end of year results. What more could I ask for?
Several things. An Audi, a Ferrari, a Jag (oh how I love Jags), Jeremy Clarkson, my own jet...you get the materialistic picture.
I will end today on a quote. 'I asked God for a bike, but I know he doesn't work that way. So I stole a bike and asked for forgiveness instead.' It is strangely philosophical, no?
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
The internet has ruined everything
'All I need is a sheet of paper and something to write with, and then I can turn the whole world upside down.' - Nietzsche.
I need to read Nietzsche, as I love so many of his philosophies (screw Jung and Freud and their insights into people).
This is an outdated quote and requires updating. What is this old-fashioned pen-and-paper nonsense? In today's society whatever profound things written by the movers and shakers of the world are only going to affect (not effect) society if they are typed on a computer with an internet connection, and then posted on the internet! This is where tonight's title springs from, as indeed, the internet as ruined many a wonderful thing such as a Nietzsche quote by making it obsolete. Even if in principle it still stands (which it doesn't, really), the practicalities make it pointless. And it's so idealistic...
So perhaps instead of 'All I need is a sheet of paper and something to write with, and then I can turn the whole world upside down', perhaps it should be:
'All I need is a working computer with access to the internet, and then I can turn the whole blogosphere upside down'.
It doesn't quite have the same ring to it. The internet has ruined it!!
To think I nearly wrote tonight about the women who don't appear to wear pants in the original Star Trek.
Be good and study hard kiddies!
I need to read Nietzsche, as I love so many of his philosophies (screw Jung and Freud and their insights into people).
This is an outdated quote and requires updating. What is this old-fashioned pen-and-paper nonsense? In today's society whatever profound things written by the movers and shakers of the world are only going to affect (not effect) society if they are typed on a computer with an internet connection, and then posted on the internet! This is where tonight's title springs from, as indeed, the internet as ruined many a wonderful thing such as a Nietzsche quote by making it obsolete. Even if in principle it still stands (which it doesn't, really), the practicalities make it pointless. And it's so idealistic...
So perhaps instead of 'All I need is a sheet of paper and something to write with, and then I can turn the whole world upside down', perhaps it should be:
'All I need is a working computer with access to the internet, and then I can turn the whole blogosphere upside down'.
It doesn't quite have the same ring to it. The internet has ruined it!!
To think I nearly wrote tonight about the women who don't appear to wear pants in the original Star Trek.
Be good and study hard kiddies!
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