overocea: (Default)
I got a new job as a face-to-face counsellor. do you realise what this means?
no more pink asymmetrical hair.

which further means I MUST to learn to drive before I start work (21st April) so that I can have pink asymmetrical hair on my driver's license. but I don't really think it is very likely because... I haven't actually ever driven before except one time when I was 16, oh but I rode around a sugar cane field on a moped once and crashed it into a ditch and broke it.

I am 20something(?) and haven't learnt to drive because I disagree with car culture. you know, I get the bus to work every day, and zoom past (on the busway) the parking lot desert of a highway stretching 30?km out of the city and? EVERY SINGLE CAR HAS ONE PERSON IN IT. if cars were outlawed for personal use public transport would rock and there would be much more room for flowers than bitumen and air than carbon monoxide. but secretly also I am scared to drive, and to be in control of a speeding 1500 kilogram hunk of metal. I typed "how much does a car weigh" into google to be able to write that.

also I am going to Cairns on Monday for a couple weeks.
also I am going to Supanova pop culture expo this weekend. HOW GEEKY.
also here is a painting I did several years ago. I can't believe I am even posting it as I find it so very embarrassingly awful:

overocea: (Default)
Something I wrote in an email a little while ago:
I've noticed very recently that I slightly dislike a reasonably significant proportion of all humanity! Generally people I consider boring, or not genuine.. you know, they're sweetly nice to a person regardless of how they feel about them, which I understand is necessary at times, but... the thought makes me uncomfortable. Nodding and smiling pleasantly when someone is droning on about a subject you're completely disinterested in, or when you've something important to attend to, or when you feel like punching them in the face because you hate the way they mispronounce empathic... wouldn't you rather know if the person you were talking to felt that way?

Working in counselling I've come to place huge importance on genuineness... it's been drilled into my skull: a vital component of a therapeutic relationship, and I seem to have transferred that to everyday life. Well, good! Except that I do seem to offend people more often. Several people have said they admire it, speaking my mind, in the same sentence as saying that it may rub people the wrong way.
A few days after writing it I.. ate some sugarcubes. Oh, we had a sugarcube party, there are photos that other people took:



Sugarcubes tend to magnify one's personality flaws. This is something one notices in others, of course, but usually not oneself. Well, in the days prior to said party I had been dwelling a bit on the improbability of the accuracy of self-knowledge a bit. So I observed the flaws that were magnified in myself, and disliked them.



Personality flaws I must overcome:

Negativity: I make continuous negative, cynical comments. They are most often jokes, my humour is sarcastic, and amusing, sure! but the unfailing negativity of it is unecessary. My nature is a negative one, of course I cannot realistic decide to "overcome" that (if I wanted to, that is), but can definitely refrain from tainting every remark I make with it...

Detachment: On meeting someone new I often exaggerate my indifference, communicate a vague disinterest in the person, remain remote and mysterious. Why? Schizoid airs aside, I think it may be so that if they end up disliking me, they'll never know I care. Of course this is a behaviour that is only going to increase the chances they'll dislike me anyway..! People like to be liked. There are people I like. I should communicate it more.



That's all. Only two flaws? Well, only two that I've picked out.

"It's very rare to find genuine self-knowledge. It's almost as if you need someone else to tell you who you are, or to hold up a mirror for you."

So I could ask someone who knows me quite well my flaws. But... I'm scared they would have some to tell me. I don't really want to hear it.



The party was lovelie, I liked everyone there.. but I don't know how I feel about sugarcubes anymore. Well.. it's bound to not affect a negative person in a positive way, right? It just makes me so awkward, so enormously uncomfortable.

Then again, maybe I just need to eat more.. biscuits with it next time.
overocea: (Default)
you know how your time, today, is so precious to you you don't want to waste it, don't know how to spend it, it's like coins dripping from your hand
rush around your own head; flip and switch, no, nothing is worth it
  thinking, thinking

I've obviously accomplished nothing, today,

beyond work. A group reflection session, in which we had to talk about a call that had gone terribly, or terribly well. How did it make us feel, what would we have done differently, "what about you, Jessicah, what would you have done?" to ensure you weren't really staring completely vacantly at the concentric circled pattern, faintly raised, textured, on the close, closing walls.
"I don't know any of you, your sympathetic lip-stretchings or uncertain eye-narrowings."

I don't think any one tells the truth at any time. Go to work, go out on weekends, invest in term deposits, pay off loans, cut up vegetables, give way to the right, keep yearly dentist appointments, find pleasure in your collection, produce, consume, oblige, fuck.

TIME.
overocea: (please)
I last updated exactly half a year ago. Facebook has made me lazy.. it requires no thought and minimal consideration. arrr.

I've been making lots of clothes with fabric bought from ebay 'cause Brisbane has no fabric that isn't hideously boring, or just hideous.

Come to see Infected Mushroom with us on February 23rd please.

Today is my only day off for the week and I am spending it nakedly simultaneously watching Samurai Jack and playing laptoppy computer games. and typing here random things I think of throughout. and meeting people later for pounds and pounds of coffee. Yes, pounds.
's working too much :<

I don't tell my livejournal private things like I did 7 years ago, when there was no one I knew personally who read it. Maybe that's why I don't use it anymore. I'm an exhibitionist unless it's at people I have to deal with on a week-to-month basis. You know.. when the world rests on your head/in your bed, and you feel like a deeply loved goldfish.

My fish are deeply loved.. the first half of my day off was spent transferring them out of their slightly leaky tank into a brand new one.

Last night, walking home from work, I passed under a railway bridge (the lights were orange, stared eagerly at suspicious shadows), and smelt sparklers. You know? What is that smell, what are sparklers made of? I heard loud bangs, and vividly imagined the bridge crumbling, plundering my noggin.. or perhaps just as I emerged from under it, spinning around in shocked disbelief, heartbeat, calling triple 0, trembling "there could be people, cars, me, under there..." Then racing home for my camera.

Ah, yeah I am loved... more than I love.

Anyone who reads this, post a comment and hit Ctrl+V, and nothing else. Just paste what's in your clipboard:

62% reported having been raped in prostitution.
73% reported having experienced physical assault in prostitution.
72% were currently or formerly homeless.
92% stated that they wanted to escape prostitution immediately.
Farley, M., Baral, I., Kiremire, M., & Sezgin, U. (1998). Prostitution in five countries: Violence and posttraumatic stress disorder. Feminism & Psychology, 8 (4), 405-426.

haha that was unexpected. SEE? IT'S FUN.
overocea: (jizz)
Let me just say it appears that everyone who attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in REAL LIFE omg is an absolute wanker. I mean really, wtf people. wtf.

Also, this. I quite abhor those ads, cuz you know, Australia apparently LOVES violence against men. I guess it serves the rapist fuckers right or something.
overocea: (Default)
I recently caught up on my (heavily filtered) friends page. Unfortunately, many of you rarely report anything worth commenting on. So if you're wondering why my commenting is lacking, it is because you are boring. However I admit that I am a poor LJer in general. YOU SEE, I CAN'T HELP BUT FEEL THAT LJ has ceased to be a journalling tool, and has instead become a tool of communication. The fact is I lack many basic communication skills due to the fact that I hate people, thus my entries

hmm I must have become distracted. damn it, I can't even finish ONE LOUSY PARAGRAPH of an entry.

My point was, or was eventually in a very roundabout way going to become, that I've been considering being more journally in my livejournal, as opposed to my once per month: "Look! Look at my latest attempt to convince myself that I am still an artist! PRAISE ME!"

I used to keep paper journals for actual journally business, but haven't written in my latest for months. I blame that on recently losing faith in my keeping written memories idea after reading not-so-long-ago entries, the basis happenings of which I can still recall; for several times per page I forget that "I mustn't put strangeness where there's nothing. I think that is the danger of keeping a diary: you exaggerate everything, you are on the look-out, and you continually stretch the truth."

But! I SO love reading my past journals. It is an addiction to which I'm sure any self-obsessed person can relate. So should I try, RIGHT NOW?

I am at work, and just came in from smoking a cigarette. Smoking cigarrettes inspires me, especially to write, which is why I smoke them, which is further why I am writing now. This particular cigarrette I stubbed out too vigorously and in doing so accidentally snapped the remaining quarter from the filter. As I picked up the pieces and brought them inside to place in the bin, my vision flared into a burning blindness as I was arbitrarily overcome with a white rage at the thought of those who flick their butts into gutters, gardens, graves. Although my cigarrette butts are pink and could thus only increase the prettiness of anything I cared to flick them into.

Okay that is surely the most inane thing I have ever written. Curse you LiveJournal, curse you.

Here is a list of updates that may interest you, because lists are ALWAYS full of win:
  • I am working on many webdesign projects lately, the most complicated one I am not being paid for. Why I agree to these things I DO NOT KNOW since I supposedly hate people.
  • I am saving uP to go to Japan to teach English for a year.
  • Going to Japan for a year means giving my ratties and my fish up for adoption. This makes me sad every day. However various family members will be taking my cats, hurrah.
  • I like my boyfriend. He is good.Pretty Pop
  • I recently bought Pretty Pop, my first new pony all year. She is my new alltime favourite, even beyond G1s which I usually greatly prefer. Here is a picture, and if computer monitors had smellovision you would be able to tell that she smells like bubblegum.
  • I faint when I have needles of any kind (no heroin for me, thanks). As a result I have been terrified all my life of donating blood and have made excuse after pathetic, unreasonable excuse. I have decided to be great and mighty and overcome this fear by facing it directly etc etc. I have convinced one friend to come, WHO ELSE HERE volunteers to save up to three loves with us? (That should obviously have read "lives" but I think it works better this way.)
  • Finally, here are some bash quotes at which I have been chortling all day.

    <peer`> I cut off gummy bear heads and put them over the LED's on my keybaord
    <peer`> now I have glowing gummy bear heads

    * ab is away - gone, if anyone talks in the next 25 minutes as me it's bm being an asshole -
    <ab> HAHAHA DISREGARD THAT, I SUCK COCKS

    <Tsk> oiuyniyu98h987h89yh87y98yjn987j987y897yhkiuk;''''
    <Tsk> sorry.. there was a spider on my keyboard.
overocea: (please)
coldcomfort Full time work is a craggy bear of lethargy and indifference, slowly gnawing off my hands. My head functions as usual; my eyes point wonderingly at everything and my voice comes vomiting up and lightning bolts of ideas shoot out of my brain and I make endless plans for wonderous things to do and create and complete. The lightning never gets anywhere... my hands are eaten off before the flashes reach the ends of my arms. My eyes are sliding closed and my voice grows pale with "how may I help you"s.

Limbos of working for short but very constant spurts to pay for the exciting adventures in between, though, is more desirable than steady streams of equal parts life and living. Oh, ugh, I obviously wasn't meant for the dreary lives society has decided. I dream of rolling down hillsides composing odes to visible bodies of very fine water droplets as I go; but too much of even that and my brain would eat itself for lack of sustenance from the world...

It's how I see having roots of any kind. Horrid! My life shall be intense, overflowing, practically drunk! and wildly varying; I will have lived everywhere, been everything, had everyone. So there, there there, it's okay, it will all be okay. I'm here [only for now].

Home again

Apr. 20th, 2007 02:45 pm
overocea: (Default)
My last travel post, from home... both thrilled and devastated to be back.

The last two weeks of the journey felt like stolen time; it had to be scoffed down before someone found out we'd appropriated it. Looking back now it's all blurred, and I can't bring myself to write about it. Luckily I've photos.

Trekking in Chiang Mai we visited a mountain village with very interesting accommodation.

Chiang Mai


Ate Tex Mex in Vientiane, Laos, while from our balcony watched a shopkeeper's family have their dinner most comfortably in the street.

Vientiane


Our favourite stop was Vang Vien, also in Laos, a town that seems to exist solely for the pleasure of tourists, who lounge all day in one of 80 cushiony cafes watching Friends on one of the 43569086 widescreen TVs in each cafe.

Vang Vien


But it had gorgeous mountains and rivers. And yes, yes, our favourite travel story: down one of these rivers you can float, having hired an inner tube for around $3. Along the banks of this river teeter makeshift bamboo bars selling beers for less than $1. The bartenders fish you in with lengths of bamboo or rope, then con you into drinking more by offering free shots of rice whisky for every beer you buy. You then float on down to the next bar, chatting to other travellers on the way, paddling drunkenly with your sandals or beer bottles, stopping every now and then to throw yourself off a flying fox or rope swing into the deeper parts of the river.

I didn't risk taking my camera on that particularly wet adventure.

On to the islands, notably Koh Pangan, home to the Full Moon Party. The party itself was unremarkable, however the night before we noticed one of the beach bars had a sign advertising "Happy Shakes."

Koh Phangan


Now that was a very interesting night. Sitting on the beach staring at the horizon, the sky and ocean seemed to fold in on me. We somehow made it back to our bungalow where I lay taking many strange, pointless photos until my memory card was full.



From there to Phuket, which was the most touristy place we'd been yet, but I loved it. Its packed beaches, its tacky knicknacks, its screaming bars, its gaudy ladyboys.

Phuket


and back to Bangkok to furiously shop before heading back home. and get dreadlocks put in, oh what hideously painful fun that was.

back home


Came back home to a reasonably clean house and no dead pets (thanks, housesitters) but Newt, my beautiful fighter, had advanced dropsy. and I've heaps of bills to pay, and a job to find, and oh, no, life is back.
overocea: (Default)
The sky is a gradient, azure blue to powder blue
Where it meets the sea, which is a gradient, deep green to pale green
Where it meets the white of the waves and of the sand.

sun bath

My skin today is not a gradient, it jumps startlingly from creamy pale to angry red.
overocea: (Default)
The women encircle their necks with brass rings as protection against tiger attacks; not so the men, who are apparently stronger than tigers.



A girl's first rings are given at age 5, with another ring being added each year until her thirtieth.



(She is also taught to apply her own makeup at age 5).

Bangkok

Mar. 9th, 2007 06:33 pm
overocea: (Default)
My experience of Bangkok was both awesome and awful. The capital of Thailand is just crazy. We stayed on Khaosan Road, surely the most chaotic corner of the world. All day and all night the street is lined with stalls and crowded with tourists.

Khaosan Rd

Paid 2000 baht each for ringside seats at the Muay Thai boxing stadium. I was shocked to be watching terribly muscley and scary 10 year olds kicking the shit out of each other. I learned they start training at about 6; I felt terrible for them but it was very exciting all the same. As the fighters grew older & bigger I devised a system of picking the winner... whichever fighter was hotter. This system was accurate 4 of 5 fights.

Lying down Buddha

Visited a few of the thousand temples on every corner of the city, the Dusit zoo which had every animal you can think of (including panthers.. I'd never seen real live panthers. They were stunning... and sad). Watched a python swallow a chicken... well mostly, it was taking simply forever.

mmm yum.

The day we were due to fly to Surat Thani (our connection to Ko Pangan and its full moon party) we slept in because I had lost my mobile phone (our alarm clock). On the way to the airport (our taxi driver zipping in and out of traffic jams like the world would explode if we missed our flight) I realised my iPod was missing. Oops, I guess I hadn't actually lost my phone, I guess someone with a key to our room had BURGLED US. And we missed our flight.

A signpost, hooray!

So instead of the full moon party, we visited the tourist police... who laughed at us as they translated my statement. The next day we were consoled by a visit to the floating market, River Kwai bridge and tiger temple... and spent many, many hours on a squeaky, rattly, not air-conditioned mini-bus. It was grand fun. The floating market was just as in the postcards, but with a few hundred more tourists thrown in. We piled into a flatboat paddled by two insanely cheerful Thai ladies who conversed good-naturedly with everyone we (slowly) passed. Many rickety wooden houses backed onto the canals, each with an unsafe looking pier and boat. People washed their dishes and clothes, children swam, coconut shells were thrown out... all in the canal. It was fairly amazing.

Floating Market way

The tiger temple was... interesting. Around 10 or so tigers chained in a canyon with a line of tourists waiting their turn to be photographed risking death, or something. 1000 baht for a photo of a tiger's head in your lap. The money being used to construct a natural habitat, in which the tigers' offspring will be raised wild, so they can be released. Does the end justify the means? I thought it was fair, I suppose, being that these particular tigers had all been rescued from poachers, sickness or injury.

Aw kitties.

Next stop, Chiang Mai.

from afar

Mar. 1st, 2007 02:15 pm
overocea: (Default)
So so so, I am travelling about South East Asia, in case you didn't know, with the darling & delightful [livejournal.com profile] bird_e, who is currently writing a similar post right beside me.

Started in Kuala Lumpur: shining, stinking city of contradictions. The first thing we did upon arriving at around 5am was eat roti with curry and drink mysterious cucumberish juice in one of the many seedy, partly underground sort-of-cafes.

Jason paying the nice roti man

K.L. has a palpable air of decay, the close mildew'd buildings with rusty, teetering balconies under which trash overflows, and tiny half-tailed cats chase tiny rats. The streets smell of char, sewerage, rotting flesh and whatever the food vendors are cooking on their car-battery powered terribly unhygienic looking stalls. Road rules are non-existent and darting between the zipping motorbikes and taxis fighting for your attention is quite an adventure.

street

We got terribly lost on footpaths, staircases and underpasses that lead to dead-ends. Bought $2 Gucci wallets and $4 Loius Vuitton hats, bartering by passing a calculator back and forth to the vendor. Had banana leaf meals in an Indian restaurant where I was the only person not eating with my fingers.

yummy

Dutifully went up the Petronas Towers, into the air-conditioned mega-shopping-centres, outside which rows of shoeshiners and women selling silk scarves quick-as-anything scoop up their wares and bolt when security guards come sauntering past.

petronas towers petronas towers

Climbed around 340 perilous enough even if they weren't banana-peel-strewn steps to the Batu caves, dodging flying coconuts the monkeys were hurling down to break open & eat them.

most misheivous

batu caves

Thus much exhausting fun is being had. We're in Bangkok at the moment, but that is another story.
overocea: (snif)
I heart 4chan
overocea: (please)
Um, so. Today I went to the beach and my bikini bottom was nearly swept away 45086 times. For some reason my body insists on a size M top and size S bottom. THANKS, BODY.

WOW IT'S LIVEJOURNAL. HI WHAT'S UP.

I went to the Gold Coast Big Day Out and had lots of strange and hilarious pictures taken of me.

Next weekend I am going camping. I've never been camping. I am scared of alien abductions and spiders that live underground and come out to jump on birds and eat them.

In several weeks I am going to Thailand and Malaysia for a holiday. I am trying to save money to buy lots of sweatshop clothing etc. but it doesn't work. My money hates to be saved and I hate to be cruel to it.

Like, I want to buy a tatty second hand wedding dress of yellowed lace and chiffon and embroidered baby's breath to wear to do the grocery shopping and whatnot, twirling the whole time like that whiney oh-so-fresh-faced girl from Legend. yeah. DON'T PRETEND YOU HAVEN'T SEEN IT.

I have an extended family of pets to be looked after while I am gone but can't work up the nerve to ask anybody to do it because I fear it is too huge a job. Oh, my pets. I have three rats and two cats and three aquariums full of fish who I think I love most of all. I can send the cats to people but need someone to housesit the rest, I guess...

I want to grow my hair super long so I can fly with it like Supergirl's cape, but I also want to bleach it over & over so I can dye it colours. I can't do both. What do I do?

Now on the top of the list for my new last name is Peril. Jessica Peril. OH YES.

Also, even though I am about to sign off and go home, add overtlie@hotmail.com to your MSN so I can chat you up while I am bored and brainless at work please kthx I love you byebye ¯\(º o)/¯

honour

Dec. 13th, 2006 08:28 pm
overocea: (Default)
So, so, so.

My thesis was returned recently; oh the excitement. Only it didn't include the final grade, just the markers' comments. All well and good, exceedingly helpful remarks ("The results are presented in a way that makes them reasonably comprehensible," and "The discussion largely does its job." WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?), but I wanna know what I got, dammit!

After emailing the honours course convenor in a politely outraged manner, I received this:
I'm afraid we are no longer allowed to give out thesis marks! But I can tell you that both your markers gave you a mark in the First class range, so you got a clear First for your thesis. Examiners who see a thesis as First class do seem reluctant to give high marks, though, so the marks are generally in the low 80's. With your coursework marks, this means that you got a *very* high IIA honours degree overall. Congratulations.
I am unreasonably disappointed. An overall Second Class A is good. I can't imagine I would have ever expected to get a First... but I got one for my thesis! Oh oh oh, it's unbelievable, and it makes me think I should have one overall. Particularly since she had to specify that it was very high; how close I was, by how little I missed out.

Ah. The absurd things that flatten me. Like cherry lollipops not tasting even remotely of cherries. Damn you, world.

In any case, I graduate on Friday.
overocea: (Default)
i'm moving in a week, hurrah! to a house in th gabba with a fireplace! fireplace yay!

meanwhile i'm having to let people wander through my current very private personal home to inspect it. not only that, there are pictures of it on th internets.

hey. STOP LOOKING AT MY STUFF. omg everyone can see my dirty dishes and what kind of deoderant I use. :(

also: I have myspace! ohnoes, but I have no friends. does anyone who uses livejournal go all overkill &use myspace too? I do because I sit bored at computers all night at work. if anyone else does tell me so I can add you and pretend I am popular. NOW.
overocea: (Default)
Things to do once I've finished my degree, TUESDAY!
  • Buy that $240 skirt I SIMPLY MUST HAVE IT despite its $240ness.
  • Breed my prettie crowntail fighters so they have lots of prettie crowntail fighter babies.
  • Go to Ikea to buy a cabinet to build a superduper penthouse for my rattie Bean.
    • Find Bean a rattie friend!
      • I'm watching him try to haul a whole slice of bread into his cage. OMG THE CUTENESS
  • FIND SOMEWHERE TO LIVE that isn't $300 a week for just little old me. and my million pets. I would like to stay in or near Coorparoo, or a not-frightfully-expensive inner West somewhere. Or anywhere near public transport, I guess.
  • Visit Cairns for Sarah-bear's birthday.
  • Learn to drive! Maybe.
  • Make a new webdesign site.
  • Dye my hair some outgrageously funn colour.
  • Go to Lab4 & Critical Mass & Earthcore & Cat Empire! yay!
  • Get stoned and have zombie boardgame & movie night with [livejournal.com profile] bird_e and as many people we can con into coming. yay X 8sideways!

anyway. back to my last ever assignment:

This disorder has been found to be relatively resistant to treatment, which is thought to be due to the ego syntonic nature of its characteristics. The traits which are targeted for change are so pervasive and unconscious that the patient usually does not see them as a problem, and instead will place the blame on external sources. As a result of this, patients rarely present voluntarily for treatment, instead usually being treated involuntarily, having been referred by an employer, family member or, most often, the courts. They therefore generally lack motivation to change as well as insight into the need to change. Further, psychotherapy is based on a therapeutic alliance with the therapist, in which an empathic and trusting interpersonal connection is critical. Such a relationship is difficult to establish with a patient who is dishonest, lacking in empathy and exhibits only shallow affect and intimacy. Thus few psychotherapies have been found to be effective in treating the disorder.

GUESS WHICH DISORDER, THE WINNAR GETS A PREYEZE.

overocea: (all the sights)
If I can fervently drink his tears, wrote Jean Genet, why not the so limpid drop on the end of his nose? To this we can reply: first that nasal secretions are not so limpid as tears. They are more like treacle than water. When a thick rheum oozes from the eye it is no more apt for poetry than nasal rheum. But admittedly clear, fast-running tears are the stuff of romantic poetry: they do not defile. This is partly because tears are naturally pre-empted by the symbolism of washing. Tears are like rivers of moving water. They purify, cleanse, bathe the eyes, so how can they pollute?
-- Mary Douglas, Purity and danger: An analysis of the concepts of pollution and taboo, p. 125.

in other news, i've one week to write 75% of my dissertation.
YAY.
overocea: (black & white)
look upon it in awe. AWE:

cutt

February 2017

S M T W T F S
   1234
567891011
1213 1415161718
19202122232425
262728    

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jul. 28th, 2017 11:01 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios