spare oom

Mar. 8th, 2012 08:32 pm
overocea: (Default)
So, Storm moved out of the apartment and I now have a spare room. I've been unable to find anyone I know who wants it, so I posted an ad on Gumtree. So much anxiety, though. The rent's pretty expensive, what if no one wants to pay so much? What if no one can stand sharing an apartment with 150 My Little Ponies? What if everyone on Gumtree becomes a mad killer at the slightest provocation, e.g. upon observing 150 my little ponies all at once?

I've had a bunch of responses, including a whole bunch of callers who hang up as soon as I answer, wtf. Of the genuine replies, one was a 45 year old weightlifting guy (ew), one was two guys (??), one was a lady with a 3 year old daughter (she'd destroy my ponies. it's what kids do), one was a guy who obviously had copied&pasted the same msg to everyone advertising because it just didn't fit my ad, etc. Three responses I was especially hopeful about, so I invited them 'round to inspect and chat. They were all women around my age.

Girl 1. Moved to Australia from Afghanistan about 6 months ago, and is newly in Brisbane. She had dimples. I pretty much adored her on sight. She was very cheerful and slightly awkward (e.g. giggling nervously when I hadn't really said anything funny), which was just endearing. She seemed very eager about the room, however we clearly didn't have much in common. She also mentioned she's hoping to move to the US in three or so months, which isn't a big deal, but neither is it ideal.

Girl 2. Recently broke up with her long term partner. Slight European accent. Really, really liked the room, but was disappointed there was no communal outdoor area. Seemed disturbed by the ponies. Said she was unsure about the room, as she wanted to live somewhere very social. Well, I said, I can be social, and am on weekends, but like space to myself most of the time. She said, "I'd probably be lonely, then." TOO NEEDY.

Girl 3. I can't remember why she's moving... which is probably because I was just immediately so smitten by her (in a completely platonic way). We had lots in common, and she was very easy to chat to, bar one or two brief awkward silences that probably only occurred because we spent so much time hanging out and talking about irrelevant stuff like why cats are weird and Game of Thrones and internet dating when we'd only just met. She loved the apartment (AND the ponies) and the cats and I LOVE HER AND HOPE SHE MOVES IN.

I told her I have one more person looking tomorrow and that I'd message her after that... but I already know I want her as my housemate please.

I hope it all works out!
overocea: (Default)
your body is great at detecting invaders,
but cancer isn't an invader. you grew it.

I was just sitting outside "smoking" my e-cigarette (vanilla mmm, but with no nicotine, just flavouring) and watching my kitty Munchy luxuriously sun himself (I am so jealous that cats can make lolling about on concrete seem comfortable). Suddenly he spied something up the driveway and jumped up, on alert. I looked over and saw my other kitty, Guppy, come racing up the path as though a million soul-eating devils were after her (and maybe there were; I am sure she can perceive things that I cannot). She came to a halt in front of him and they touched noses before she went to jump up through the window to go inside.

As she leapt, Munchy took a swipe at her hindquarters with his forepaw and missed. I was reminded of something I had read that said if you have two cats that sometimes playfight, as they seem compelled to do, you should put a bell on the more aggressive cat so that the more submissive one can hear him coming and be ready. IF ONLY 'TWERE SO SIMPLE. Munchy, the more aggressive cat, is of course going to be the more active and daring; more likely to climb precarious treelimbs and wiggle into tiny nooks and thereby lose his collar and thence the bell. I just can't keep a collar on him.

Today I have off work, hooray. Oh how I shall treasure my short time of three day work weeks! My boss asked me yesterday if he could increase my hours to full time. I would prefer four days, or a nine day fortnight, to full time, I said. He is going to get back to me, but I am almost sure he will want full time from me. This just means I must finish my program for full registration as a psychologist before the increase in work commences. So today, day off, is to be spent finishing writing up my research project report on online counselling. I can surely get this done today. As soon as I finish this entry, then make some breakfast, then put some laundry on.

Last night during supervision I was writing furious notes as my supervisor outlined her treatment plan for Anorexia and Bulimia, as I have had a sudden influx of young women with eating disorders at work. I filled three pages as she spoke for a ceaseless half hour.
"Jess," she eventually said, "your poor hand. Do you type faster than you write?"
"Yes, of course, by a million miles."
"You should sit at the computer then, to take your notes." How reasonable of her!
"Um, no," I howevered, "I find that I writing by hand lodges information more firmly in my brain. I used to take my laptop to lectures at Uni until I realised I didn't retain as much when I typed my notes as when I scrawled them fervently." (I may not have actually said "scrawled them fervently" but whatevs.)
"Wow, how interesting," she said. She seemed intrigued, and we talked briefly about possible explanations and implications.

I felt mildly guilty, as I don't even know if what I'd said was true. It seemed like it would be true, but really I think I was just comfortable sitting on the couch and writing by hand. Seriously I do not know why I sometimes come out with these silly lies. It would have been so much easier to simply say, "Nah, I'm happy here."

I do it with friends, with family, and have for years. An unfortunate throwback to the entire lives I used to compulsively fabricate as an adolescent, mayhap. Usually, with people I know super well, when I catch myself doing it I'll say pretty soon afterwards, "by the way, that wasn't true at all," and we'll laugh etc. So it's not a huge problem, I just would like to know what the fuck is up with it.

In conclusion I think I will attempt to keep a log of when it happens, along with my thoughts around why then, there, with that person... and eventually uncover the deep-seated, firmly lodged personality flaw that is undoubtedly lurking in my bowels motivating this behaviour, and potentially others as well. In my quest for utter perfection as a human being.

Yep.
overocea: (Default)
I'm hanging out with [livejournal.com profile] darkentropy and [livejournal.com profile] cluckfuster on my loungeroom floor with fuzzy blankets & big cushions, warm lighting, atmospheric muse sicks and super sweet white wine. Oh, and lots of chocolate. Guppy is curled up between us, and has a preference for deep touch. I agree with her that deep touch is satisfying, but there is something orgasmic about light touch as well. I go both ways.

We've talked about communal parenting, communal relationshipping. Sharing resources, time, and love :)
We've talked about journalling, and LiveJournal, and read each other's journals, and other people's journal entries about me. haha.
We're wondering if it's sex if there are no mouths, no fingers/hands, no undressing.. but grinding and orgasms. My vote is yes, that counts. I don't think that orgasming alone can be counted as sex though; there needs be another person involved. Storm disagrees.

Soon we'll start some editing.. after we go to the bottleshop for moar wines, which we're about to do right now. It's just really cold out there, although.. I can smoke. k I'll deal.

A three day week doesn't mean I HAVE to drink every other night, you know.

Also, I'm moving out. I looked at a place last night and it was pretty swish, although the room was small. It did have a private balcony though. And the apartment had a huge rooftop area in which I could have some pretty awesome parties. I'm just not sure I could live with two professional late-twenties women who go to the gym twice a week. I'll keep looking.

I'd really rather live by myself, but would have to live too far out of town to afford it. I think I would much prefer to live central and deal with housemates. Perhaps. I guess I'm lucky in that I don't have to rush.. although I kind of want to...

"Okay I'm done. How can I end this journal entry on a high note?"
"Um, Marie is here?"
"Okay say something funny Marie."
"Bitches be crazy."
overocea: (Default)
I wanted to remember this, so have typed it up at work. Having nowhere to keep it, have posted it here. I've no daily anymore, besides my paper journals, of which I've none with me today. I so rarely write long entries in them, though, them being generally small and unweieldy... and typing being so easier to express, to reflect and modify. Perhaps I should restart dazelie, I do so love that I have it to look back on.

This weekend just past I finally managed to get to Byron Bay. I'd wanted to go for weeks, months! but events continually impeded; Shadowrun, hangovers, essential shopping sprees, etc. Mostly it was that I wanted to take my friends, rather than go alone, but they so very often had other plans, damn them!

Jason decided not to come along, having just received a letter from the department of psychology berating him for being such a slack bastard, so wanted to catch up on some work instead. Chelle originally wanted to go motorcycle shopping, being about to be granted a license. I thus threatened to go on my own, in the face of their blatant defiance of my wishes (and would have, reluctantly, for just a day trip), as I'd learned the markets are only on once per month, rather than every weekend... this weekend, and I am going to Cairns next.

Chelle found her cycle during the week, however, so agreed to come. Hurrah! Then I received messages from Rohan, asking for company Saturday night, so I invited him, thinking he probably wouldn't come, yet he did as well. So the three of us went.

The drive took only two hours, when I'd thought it to be three. We arrived at around 3pm and had delicimous sushi (tempura salmon rolls with two sauces, split crumbed prawns filled with rice, tuna and avocado, soft shelled crab) followed by gelati. We checked into our "studio" the next beach down – one bedroom with a queen + single bed, as well as a separate lounge room and kitchenette. After lounging around a bit we decided to go shopping for supplies (liquor and breakfastfoods) before heading back into Byron for dinner.

I love Byron Bay so very. Not so much the intensely touristy aspect of it; more the creative, casual lifestyle, with organic goodness, beach and wilderness. Chelle and I devised plans for moving there once Jason and I are registered – a private practice, miscellaneous (I just can't recall the specifics) IT and computery jobs for Rohan and Jeremy, a host of eclectic pursuits for Chelle, including a stall at the markets where Chelle and I can sell our paintings; gardens, hammocks, surfing, drum circles (we briefly spied a huge one of such energy!), festivals, drug use, etc. I wish so!

Anyway, dinner! Hog's Breath Café, where Chelle and I shared nachos and steak. Rohan raved about the steak for a bit – slow cooked for 18 hours! A conspiracy was theorised as to how they knew how many to have ready for when we arrived. We then headed back to the hotel to get slightly trashed and wander up to the beach. Except the way to the beach was through some pitch black beachside woods – an interesting and hilarious drunken trek. The beach was chaotic: black, roaring, windy and stormy, lightning over the waves, freezing cold. We headed back to shower and pass out on the couch (o wait, that was just me).

I woke up to Chelle cooking breakfast – grilled haloumi, pesto toast, avocado and smoked salmon. I skipped the salmon, the rest was sublime (although I'm sure for people who do not detest slimy fish flesh the salmon was also sublime). We headed to the beach for some swimming and roasting. The morning beach was perfect – a light breeze, sand crinkled by last night's rain, water chill and blue, mountains on the horizon, copious hole-crabs and cheery, racing puppydogs greeting us gleefully from all angles. I received a slight tan (thank you sun), but melanoma and a friend's insistence I get my back looked at worried continuously at my mind (thank you sun), though apparently not enough for me to actually get looked at, mind.

After another shower, some cigarettes and morning vodka, we checked out at around 10am (QLD time) and headed to Byron for the markets. We went straight to the gushy fudz section and Rohan wandered off lost as quickly as he could. Chelle and I partook of delicious samosas and satay chicken, then began to aimlessly wander the stalls. I bought scented oil burner chips, a tantric colouring book and some pants for Jason. Chelle bought a pretty dress and a hugely floppy hat – it was so very sunny and abominably hot. We then received a call from lost Rohan and met up with him, and the search for toeboots began – my main reason for wanted to revisit the markets. I couldn't find them, and didn't, which was quite sad, but gives me reason to go back and try again.

So very hot and heatstruck we went back into the town for air-conditioned shakes (vanilla as a flavour is so underrated) for which the waitress undercharged. Rohan kicked up a minor fuss re. morals and insisting on paying the correct amount, to which Chelle and I shrugged; well, how else will they learn not to make such atrocious errors?

I set the agenda for the rest of the day: swimsuit shopping (for me), followed by doof shopping (for me), followed by stopping once again at the markets for a burrito (for me). I felt a tad awfully selfish but, well, no one else had any preferences! Chelle made out fine, liking the shops I chose and also buying a swimsuit, but poor Rohan lagged about in complete disinterest, yet with wonderful patience.

We left as the market stalls were closing up (no burrito for me, afterall) and stopped for a happy meal on the way home instead. ALL in all (is all we are), an immensely successful trip, one I hope to repeat again soon.
overocea: (the spell)
I sometimes think I would like to implant little radio transmitters in everyone I care about, so I know where they are at all times. more! little video cameras in their pupils, so I can see what they see.. at all times. i'd have a wall of television screens, one for each person, and would sit in front of it all day long.

my intentions are lousy with selfishness, self absorption.
I would like to be honest to a hate-inducing fault.

well..
I can count my bitter exes on twenty hands.

"You were born to be a radio song girl, they're all singing about you, it's uncanny. Have you ever really listened?"
"Of course not; I merely hear."
"Nothing I can say matters. Your armour leaves these words broken at your feet."
"Oh, tears! and accelerated heart."
"I don't think about hitting or hurting you, but sex somehow seeps in, and I have thought about raping, or treating you as someone not worth anything more."

so the rain, oh, the rain. i'd had to go into the city last night to visit my visiting mumm, walked as usual to the bus stop with my umbrella.
umbrellas are my favourite things and I would like them to grow from peoples' heads instead of hair, from angels' backs instead of wings.
my umbrella was insufficient. somehow I got soaked from eyelash- to toe-tips so I left footprint puddles on the carpet. I had to borrow my mumm's clothes, tie up her jeans with a ribbon from her hatbox and fall over in her pointy shoes.

then, wandering cold and lonely 3am streets, I feel that everyone in the world must also be wandering cold and lonely 3am streets, so why aren't we doing it together? then I realise they're curled safe in warm and unlonely 3am beds. bastards.
overocea: (Default)
I really, really need to _____. I am horribly frustrated.
HORRIBLY. and miserable. I wish I could be ragingly furious instead. ooo.

well I just got off the phone with Dennis.
I talk to him at least twice, thrice per day. if, for some reason, I don't answer my phone(s), he rings and rings them both until I do, leaving 10-20 messages. and SMSs. and emails. and comments on my livejournal. and messages on my friends' phones asking if they know where I am. and messages on my mumm's phone asking if she's spoken to me recently. etc.
okay he's only done those last few once or twice.

see, i'm his best friend. the only one who understands etc. the only one to whom he's completely opened up and poured etc. the love of his etc.
I broke up with him three+ months ago. sat cross legged, straight faced, empty chested, closed mouthed while he cried his fluttering, splattering heart all over the hardwood floor about his life now having no etc. thinking it'll be over soon. all this pandering. all this gentle petting. all this him.

but, but, but.

I was due to go to Cairns tomorrow, as I do 2-4 times per year. he lives in Cairns, now. he had all kinds of marvellous, best-friendly adventures planned for us, i'm sure. because when I tentatively informed him i'd had to push my flight back to next Monday for various uni-involved reasons, we had a minor repeat of the fluttering, splattering heart incident over the phone. but, see, it wasn't just that i'd be a week late. it was that I was annoyed at him for transferring $120 into my bank account so I could change the flight, again, to four days earlier. it was that, for some apparently insane and selfish reason, I just refused to do it.

"why would I?" I say. "you're not even my partner. you're just a friend. why should I move my flight ahead four measly days for you? there's no reason to. it's unnecessarily absurd. etc."

surely that is a sound argument, i'm thinking. surely it is reasonable.

because, although surely it is enough, it is not all!
the thing is... I do have selfish reasons for not doing it. selfish reasons i'm not telling him about. because what he doesn't know won't hurt him. and because i've promised him I won't <quote>see</unquote> anybody until after my trip to Cairns.

Friday night a semi-friend (as friendly as they get, to me) is having a costume housewarming rave, rave, rave.
and the crush of my life (read: crush of my present) will be there.
I have diabolical plans to spirit him to some dark corner and make him my night-long prey. either that or I have plans to gaze and mutely blush, etc.

sigh sigh.
I am evil. just so everyone knows.

now. I have 1,500 words to write by tomorrow.
and $20 worth of junk food to consume while doing so.
excuse me.
overocea: (i'm an unbutterflie girl)
so i'm wondering what the fuck is up with drycleaners lovingly caressing muculent looking stains? it's not like it could possibly be anything anyone would want to touch.

me: *dumps a pile of disgusting clothes on the bench*
little old drycleaner lady: *goes through them till she finds the most disgusting article of the lot* oh, look, stains! what happened here, then? *picks at an encrusted glob of goop*
me: ... hello? THAT'S VOMIT.
little old drycleaner lady: *yanks hand away in horror* oh! okay then. well, what about this? this isn't vomit! *pick pick pick*
me: um, yeah. THAT'S SEMEN.

meanwhile, a mystery someone just ordered me a paid-for surprise pizza, yay! MUAH!

no doubt to enforce a break during mad-essay writing. ahh. well i've just started (thus the livejournaling...). it was due yesterday, but Sarah & Hawkins stopped to visit on their way to the snow, and ended up distracting me for two whole days. and last night i'd the worst hayfever evar. I went miserably to bed at 8:pm, forestalling all my plans of intoxicated wonder :<

SHE FLOATED ON AIR LIKE THE CREST OF A WAVE

oh, essay, yes yes. i'm not sleeping till it's done.

LISTING

Jun. 8th, 2006 02:16 pm
overocea: (follow my fishie)
STEP BY STEP GUIDE TO BETTER LIES
1. prepare for the worst: always have a back up plan.
2. know your facts: do the research inside out.
3. develop your story and beyond: leave no room for question.
4. create a situation in which the possibility of a lie would be absurd.
5. self delusion: it is not a lie. if you can convince yourself you can convince anyone.
6. TRUST NO ONE: never tell. the truth does not exist.

I always felt I should have been born on a Wednesday. Alas, I am Thursday's child. oh yes:

Monday’s child is fair of face,
Tuesday’s child is full of grace,
Wednesday’s child is full of woe,
And Thursday’s child has far to go.
Friday’s child is loving and giving,
And Saturday’s child has to work for a living.
But the child is born on the Sabbath day
Is bonny and lucky and wise and gay.


Felon woke me up at 6am vomiting on my bed. YUCK. but I still love her. I wrote of her when she was a baby, October 2004, her cute quirks:
  • she purrs constantly. I haven't once not heard her purr in the 5 days since I picked her up.
  • she lies on the desk while i'm at the computer and kitten-hisses at the cursor moving around the screen (kitten-hisses are like little facial explosions).
  • when about to use her kitty litter, she pounces it first like she's going to prey-murder it.
  • she can't seem to learn that jumping up through a glass tabletop is not possible.
  • she eats SO MUCH. it's like she feels guilty for all the starving kittens in Abyssinia. and when she eats a lot her stomach swells out really huge like she swallowed a magic 8ball whole and if you shake her she'll vomit enigmatic answers to desperate "does he love me?"s

and meet today's entertainments:
GLOOMY BEAR VS MY LITTLE PONY, EXCLAMATION POINT


PLACE YOUR BETS
overocea: (Default)
still waking up with permanence at 4am or earlier, despite th time AT WHICH I go to bed. but it's gorgeous, earliest morning, when even witches are dead to th world. i've coffee, crunchynut cornflakes, wrapped in a blanket under a heater with ren&stimpy, my house glowing from every eye. I feel lucky. I feel i've promise.

4hours later: I feel an idiot. I vaguely recalled one of my thesis group mentioning we were meeting at 9am rather than 11. so am at uni, on time, except that was LAST WEEK. we DID meet at 9. and this week we are meeting as usual at 11. sigh.

3hours later: what is wrong with me today? I feel so dissatisfied. I feel wrong. I feel lonely. I want desperately to bump into someone I know. I want to gorge. I want to drink. I want to smoke. I want to fuck. I want to run. I don't know what I want.. but it's something. and right now. I want it.

ugh! i'm so frustrated. dissatisfied. wrong.
I could leap out my skin.
I could scream out my lungs.
I feel like I need to be saved.

p.s. waking up in the early hours unable to go back to sleep is a SYMPTOM OF DEPRESSION.

4hours later: I must think of him more than he thinks of me.
perhaps.

I don't know! because, well.. he couldn't guess how often I think of him. so.. I can't.. guess...

on the surface, uh, from an alien point of view, it would seem he thinks of me. more. most of our contact is him-initiated.
but that's true of my contact with anyone!
it's just so often..

but I can't guess how often he thinks of me.
I hope it's heaps.

this isn't healthy.
I seem to have a habit for unhealthy relationships.

but this one!.. confuses me.
I have to stop thinking about it.

livejournal addendum: if you're one of the many! who could be reading this thinking it may be about you: i'll never te-ell.

I just realised how many! of you could have thought. wow. i'm in a lot of unhealthy relationships at the moment! yay! and I love you all. :D

lol I suck.
overocea: (follow my fishie)
for some reason I just can't work at home. i've been meaning to write my counselling paper for a week... but. need to meet a friend at uni tomorrow in hopes of motivating each other to at least start. since it is due in <2days. but i'm not worried because.. I have hold of someone's same paper from last year. hurrah!

I am terrible, yes.

so today! well I woke at 4am and never did get back to sleep, lay in frustrated freezingness despite two doonas, three blankets & two cats.

previously had had a disturbing dream about a friend of mine in which she cleaned my house while dressed in a provocative bunnie costume consisting of a fuzz-tailed g-string. & floppy ears, of course. I don't think I will tell her about it.

was horribly bored by my choice of outfits, so thought I would wear a hat. but in the box labelled "hats" I found only wigs. so? wore a wig:



"you have no idea how many looks you're getting," said James.
"sure I do. I just wish they wouldn't pretend like they weren't."

because every time I looked at someone I found them looking at me,
UNTIL I LOOKED AT THEM and their eyes sped in every other direction.

I was accused of having a foundation for everything of apathy, and an avoidant attachment style (positive self, negative other).
so? my outsight is 20/20.
overocea: (Default)
today was a highly unusual day.

I have always really liked to be on my own. i've decided many times that i'm best on my own, and am thus meant to be so. I only seem to deeply think when alone, and to be creative, and to be myself.

well i'm on my own for the first time in around a year & a half. and i'm not used to it.
i've been craving alone-time for months, and now? i'm bored. i'm lonely.

me! lonely!
why, it's absurd!

in fact after a weekend of moping I only just admitted it today, when, after my 9am class, I found I didn't want to go home. to my lonely home.
so I didn't. instead I spent NINE HOURS
at uni, simply sitting and talking to semi-friends.

and had some very enlightening conversations.

Anjali reports that I stand out because of my blackness, after I told her I wear black so i'll be invisible. I think it was the most honest answer i've ever given to "so why do you always wear black?" yet.

James reports that I am MACHO. I was horrified.
he didn't say that. he said I have many masculine qualities, e.g. a huge protective shield I never let down, etc, that he figures I modelled after a macho male in my early life. this is because I am apparently hiding my devastation at breaking up with Dennis. come to think of it, Dennis also pointed out that my lack of devastation was male-like. hmm.

Liz reports that Anais is a frightful role model. and I realised it's true. but I can't help it! she thrills me so. she makes me think she's me. (she has masculine qualities too!)

a girl whose name I never processed so couldn't remember if I tried (I seem to never be listening when people tell me their names) reports that I am possibly the only person doing honours who hasn't begun writing their introduction. hello? I haven't even begun researching it!

she also asked me to live in Italy with her. I can't wait!

so I am feeling hopeful. tomorrow I think I will go into the city and take many pictures.

easter

Apr. 17th, 2006 12:08 am
overocea: (black & white)
there are a great many things in existence that I passionately appreciate.
the absence of pain is one.
I bet now you're assuming i'm in pain, since people tend to only appreciate the absence of pain when they're in pain.
but i'm not in pain. I just sometimes remember that pain exists and am glad for not experiencing it at present.

people are another. people are astonishing. after four years learning what makes them tock i'm still utterly baffled.
then, for all the reasons I passionately appreciate them, I also feel fiercely cold towards them.
the Australian government, for instance, is severely disappointing me of late. I should have been born in Sweden.
but at least i'm not an American..

well, i'm in Cairns, visiting my family. my hilarious, wonderful family.
and today I decided I would brave the garden shed in order to find my condemned-to-storage childhood memorabilia.
okay, I was after my little ponies. I knew there were some in there somewhere.

the garden shed is a disgustingly dusty, spider- and gecko- crawling sloppily piled mess of rusted, dripping junk that everyone is too scared to remember exists. no one in this household is capable of throwing anything away, no matter how broken or useless.

so Sarah and Hawkins, my ever-snarky sister and her ever-affable boyfriend, came trooping out to help me dig through it. which in hindsight was really rather kind of them.. particularly since after one look through the sinisterly creaking door had me petrified of setting foot within.

so they were hauling boxes out to scatter the backyard and I was picking gingerly through them in search of ponies when a metre-long grey rat came leaping out of the shed t'ward me. I shrieked in somehow both terror and delight. it veered off and disappeared into the garden.

Sarah stuck her head out the shed with a rather peculiar expression when I began hollering at them to run for their bubonic-free lives. of course i'd been the only one to see it, so neither of them believed in it, and went back to their rummaging with terrifying nonchalance.
five minutes later? a metre-long grey rat came leaping out of the shed t'ward me. I shrieked, it veered.

however this time all the dogs (three slobbering giants) took off after it, snarling and yelping their glee. so I was vindicated. the shed has rats. big grey rats with scaly medusa tails.

come to think of it, I think the boxes are still scattered all over the lawn. it's raining.

incidentally, I found my ponies. they were accompanied by some rather odd small white spheres. I naively thought someone had recognised the value of my treasures and they were some form of packing material. then Sarah informed me they were gecko eggs.
that shed is highly yucky.
overocea: (can_t sleep)
things I love: in no particular order
ladybuggs
oilslick nailpolish
public transportation
underwater
sidewalks
circus&carousel ponies
other peoples' dreams
mismatched shoelaces
birds on cafe tables
watches with tiny faces
pineapple juice
the names of colours
making lists

thinking "how can something beautiful you see every day of your life remain as beautiful after a lifetime as the first time you saw it?" makes me feel sad. I shouldn't let such things make me sad. but then, people shouldn't let anything make them sad.

I collect cornered animals
feel like everything I say is an insult. well I move my mouth and words come out.
oh yeah, i'll be keeping this child in my womb forever.

alright!
I live in a city that if not for 100billion tourists avalanching through the airport every five minutes would not exist. as a consequence, every second store I pass in the street offers an abundance of glaringly corny postcards featuring the usual banal tourist attractions X 42958623586. rainforests/mountains/perfect white sandy beaches/great barrier reefs (reeves?)/naked sand-covered butts/cute fluffy little creatures that everyone not Australian thinks quite quirky and impossible and that maybe they don't exist at all but are a national joke like dropbears or those rabbits with antlers.

so anyway. stick your address in the darling little boxxx below and i'll send you a hideously tacky postcard, 'cause I like to do funny things like that with people I barely know and people I intensely know and people I don't know and people I know. you don't have to put your name if you don't want, and i'll make one up for you.

name:
address:

hey wait

Jun. 22nd, 2003 11:03 pm
overocea: (Default)
she was drunk & burst into tears, "I don't want to go back to my life!"
"oh wow, that's so sad," said my mother.

DID I EVER MENTION I COLLECT BUTTERFLY STICKERS????????????????????????
& THAT I HATE MORE THAN ONE QUESTION MARK?????????????????



invalid. I used to love the word, it would conjure a wan (also a loved word), white-faced, frail & breakable girl with dark, dark eyes and dark hair, lying against the hugest, softest pillow in the hugest, grandest bed, surrounded by solemn loved ones. the pillow & bedclothes are white, turning her skin deathly grey, hair spread out like a dishevelled darkness spilling into her head, & the air made heavy & almost visible by all the flowers.
overocea: (Default)
i'd look at the calendar & see "psych exam" written on it & think: it's okay, got a whole week to study yet.
then, a day before the exam, I thought: it's okay, got all of tomorrow morning to study.
so I woke up at 8am this morning & started studying, absorbed a horrendously huge amount of information in four hours, & now the exam is over.
I feel like I should be more relieved. & do you know what else? I have a 5 day weekend. 5 days, baby.
although I do have 3 papers due within the next 2or3 weeks, & haven't started any of them, but it's okay, 'cause I have 2or3 weeks to start yet.



people-said things today, minus the haircut related ones:

library boy: hey, do you know where the psychology journals are?
me: no.
library boy: oh. I saw you over there and so thought you must be after them.
me: no. I was after Other journals.
library boy: oh.

library lady: excuse me, but can you stop doing that? the flash is probably disturbing people.
me: can I take your picture?
library lady: no. no more pictures, okay?
me: okay.
(I was bored. obviously.)

refectory girl, to counter boy: can I get a sausage roll?
counter boy, to refectory girl: yeah, but next time get it yourself. they're self serve.
refectory girl, to me, next in line: oh, does that open up at the front?
me: yes.
refectory girl, embarrassed: you can tell I come here often, huh?
me: polite chuckles.

denise, in psychology tutorial: how many points did you put?
me: 5.
denise: really? wow. I think only, like, two people put 5.
me: yeah. I figured everyone else would get greedy.
denise: laughs.
(regarding a social dilemma ballot. if 4 or less people put 15 points and everyone else puts 5 points, everyone gets their chosen points. if more than 4 people put 15 points, no one gets any points. no one got any points.)

computer lab girl: hi, is anyone using this? (the computer next to the one I was on.)
me: no, I don't think so.

bus stop boy: looking forward to the weekend?
me: it starts now, so I don't have to.
bus stop boy: oh, yeah, if you're waiting for the bus I guess that's true.
me: I just had an exam..
bus stop boy interrupts me: uh, yeah. I think I was there.
me: oh. you take psychology?
bus stop boy: yes, and, um, i'm in your tutorial. I even know your name.
me: oh. sorry. I never remember anyone.
*brief silence*
bus stop boy: are you waiting for the city bus?
me: no. but it went already.
bus stop boy: oh, shit!
me: laughs.

I think the above constitutes everything i've said aloud to-day.
heavenly creatures is a darling movie.
overocea: (posturing)


my sociology tutor is a funny man (a general, whatever that is. how awful it must be to be called "general." hi there, general! wassup?) going bald much too young. I am apparently the only student in my class whom he knows by name, thus he is constantly calling on me to give my opinion on whatever current social issue we're supposed to be discussing at the time.

the last one was the workforce. would society function without a labour division?
"yes," every one collectively answered on cue. "sure it would. why not?" of course, because even mentioning the fact that the labour division exists is so not PC.
"Jessica?" he said, "I know I seem to be picking on you, but you always seem to have an opinion."
ONLY 'CAUSE YOU ALWAYS ASK ME. I CAN'T EXACTLY SAY NOTHING BECAUSE YOU'LL REMEMBER ME NO MATTER WHAT I SAY & IF I SAY NOTHING YOU'LL REMEMBER THAT & FAIL ME. "it's a stupid question," I said.
he barked a mixture of a laugh and an incredulous "huh?!"
I recalled the time the topic was education, and he asked why females consistently do better in primary and secondary schooling than males & I answered "because girls are smarter." he uttered the same discordant then (YES, I KNOW IT'S AN ADJECTIVE), before insisting I elaborate, at which I think I shrugged & looked away, disgusted with myself and him.
so this time I obliged: "you couldn't have no labour division. one sort of person is good at and likes one type of job, another type of person likes another. upper class people are groomed for certain jobs, lower class people with less education take what they can get. it wouldn't work any other way. even if you tried to eradicate it, it would naturally creep on back because it's just the way we are. thus, the question is stupid."

I actually said that. do you think I would say anything even remotely like that outside of a sociology tutorial? I can't bear the terms class or division. I don't believe in them & it's because of them I don't believe in or WANT society at all.
nothing depresses me as much as sociology. I have an essay due in a few weeks & the topic is "does race determine intelligence?" OH. MY. GOD. oh my god.

and it is expressly preferred that we do NOT bring up the war. I can just imagine. I don't care what is going on because it does not affect me. saddam hussein is an evil man. war is necessary. weapons of mass destruction. THAT IS ALL CHANNEL 10 HAS TOLD ME SO THAT IS ALL THERE IS.

so i'm still disgusted with myself. and miserable. and lonely. i'm sure they're all related.
can't believe I admitted any of them
overocea: (follow my fishie)


I had two lectures in a row in the same theatre yesterday, so after the first one ended and everyone swarmed towards the two tiny doors at the front I sat and waited for the next one to begin. There is a ten-minute gap between classes. The girl behind me did the same. Ten minutes later a handful of people had drifted in one by one and were waiting. Five minutes into what was supposed to have been a sociology lecture the girl behind me tapped me on the shoulder and whispered "This is SY1001, isn't it?" I had tilted my head back to look at her upside down but still managed to nod. After another five minutes I took out my timetable to check, because lecturers are never late, but the lecture was there. The right theatre, the right time. I sat and stared at the timetable for another five minutes until I noticed that this particular lecture was only scheduled for week 19, when the rest were scheduled for weeks 8-21. I turned around and shouted (which, for me, involves talking above a mumble) "does anyone have a timetable?" No one did. So I told them there was no lecture and walked out, feeling REALLY STUPID, but that's okay because everyone else there was stupid too, and at least I thought to PRINT OUT A TIMETABLE.



The other week/month Lila was vomiting all over the place. As soon as she ate she'd puke a billion times, and instead of jumping all over me and attempting to rip my face off every time I went outside she'd just lie there for an hour & then docilely amble over & put her head on my foot. So I took her to the vet. The vet probed her in 50 different ways & said he couldn't feel any obstructions & had she had all her shots? Has she eaten anything strange? "She eats everything strange," I said, she eats EVERYTHING. I PICK TICKS OFF HER AND THROW THEM AWAY AND SHE FUCKING EATS THEM. And then I remembered that two days before, she'd picked up a huge chunk of plastic wrap while I was walking her and swallowed it whole. So he was all "well take her home & don't feed her & if she's still sick tomorrow we'll have to gut her which is heapsnexpensive." And then I forgot my PIN while paying by EFTPOS, but anyway she got better. The next day she ate a whole dead decomposing stinky WORMY BIRD, FEATHERS, FEET, BEAK & ALL.

Then, another day, I was on the esplanade and I thought I saw some strange girl walking her, which is totally weird because she's a freaky looking mongrel. So I finally realised it was some other dog who just looked like Lila, & I jumped up & ran over & said "what kinda dog is that?" and she smiled patronisingly and said "it's a husky cross rottweiler," like she got asked all the time, because I GET ASKED ALL THE TIME when walking Lila 'cause she looks like a husky & then like a doberman & then like an alsation. Anyway, I said "omfg! I have the same dog!" and she was like "oooo!" and I said "did you get him from Cairns Central?" and she said "No, we got him from the owners 'cause we knew them but they did take the rest to Cairns Central." and I was all "Wow! I have your dog's sister!" So we compared their personalities, and WHY DID I HAVE TO GET THE MANIAC FREAKAZOID ONE? Hers was all quiet and nice. But he looked more like a rottweiler than Lila does, which is uglier, 'cause her face is all pointy and nice.

Chloe is my other dog & she's a big fat border collie & is lovelie & perfect except she likes to attack little kids who pat her, & she once ripped open my neighbour's leg as he dived into the pool, which wasn't her fault 'cause she's a SHEEPDOG & it's INSTINCT for her to chase diving things.



THINGS I REMEMBER FROM BEING SEVEN:
- Getting the newly-painted-pink second-hand bike for my birthday and dad taking me to the football oval to learn to ride it.
- Having the kiddie train carriage behind me jacknife & land on my head & then being rushed to hospital while yelling "no I don't wanna go I wanna ride the train again!"
- Staying out in the playground with my friends after the end-of-lunch bell until our teacher came looking for us and lined us up the front of the classroom and told us to bend over so he could wack us on the butt with his big black-board ruler BUT HE ONLY PRETENDED TO WACK US.
- Mumm giving me my first Enid Blyton book which was "The Enchanted Wood" and since then I'VE READ EVERY SINGLE ONE.
- The evil babysitter who gave us dry toast and water as a snack and let her daughter beat us up and then yelled at us for complaining about it.
- My dad coming home drunk from a policeman's party at which he won a meat platter in a raffle and he left the meat platter out on the porch all night long and when mumm & my sister & I came home from visiting my nanna we found the meat platter there all rotten with flies.
- Going fishing on the ocean with my friend Michelle with the curly white hair & her big brother, & I caught a shark, & the brother said "it's only a baby, throw it back," and I said no! I caught it it's mine! and the rest of the day every time the boat rocked I thought it was the mother shark coming to attack us & save her baby.
- I used to stuff the sandwiches my mumm made me for lunch under my bed, & I came home one day & there was a huge grey rat lying dead at the front door, & dad said "I found that under your bed eating those mouldy sandwiches" & ever since then I've had a fear of rats under my bed so I would never put my feet down in case the rats bit them.

My parents got divorced when I was nine, and I was happy.

GRAMMAR MISTAKES THAT REALLY PISS ME OFF:
- When people say "might of" rather than "might have."
- When people use "whom" just to use it because hardly anyone knows how to use it and they want to seem like they know how to use it. HERE'S A TRICK SO YOU KNOW WHEN TO USE IT, IT'S EASY: Use "who" when it goes with "he," and "whom" when it goes with "him." For example: He is speaking and Who is speaking go together, and To whom am I speaking and To him am I speaking/I am speaking to him go together. GET IT? IT'S NOT THAT HARD IS IT?
- Semi-colons. You can't just eradicate them because you don't know how to use them, and you can't just use them in place of commas for the sake of using them.
- Sarah and I. "AND ME" IS NOT ALWAYS INCORRECT. You wouldn't say "That pie is for I" (well, [livejournal.com profile] ghostlight would), so don't say "That pie is for Sarah and I."
- The use of "his or her" over and over and OVER and over. While not a mistake, it's still FUCKING ANNOYING. You can use "their" as an asexual pronoun, despite it being plural, IT'S WIDELY ACCEPTED AND NOW CONSIDERED GRAMMATICALLY CORRECT. EVEN JANE AUSTIN DID IT. There are entire WEBSITES dedicated to it.
- whose and who's. whose is possessive, who's is the same as it's. IT'S A CONTRACTION. WHO'S IS NOT POSSESSIVE.

I'm hungry. Time to go get fish & chips.
overocea: (Default)
The other week (at least two weeks ago), I was walking to the bus stop. I walk to the bus stop often. I shut the front door, checked that it was locked, cut across the garden to cross the road, and nearly stepped on this:

it's a dead cat

Trust me, it was a lot huger, heavier, bloodier and smellier than it looked. Actually it wasn't smellie yet, but my mind thought it must've been, cause it was dead, so perceived the smell anyway, despite there being none.

I went inside and got some garbage bags. I couldn't just leave it on my lawn. It was somebody's great white pet. So after taking its picture, I struggled for half an hour to get it into a garbage bag without touching it. It was covered in bugs. People drove past every 5 seconds and made a point of scowling at me. I didn't kill it, I don't even have a CAR, I'm missing my bus so I can remove its ROTTING PRESENCE FROM YOUR SIGHT, so FUCK OFF.

I went and woke up my neighbour so he could drive the dead cat & me to the tip. He got all mad & told me to throw it in the garbage can. I said, "I can't sleep at night knowing there's a dead Buddha in my garbage can!"

So, we got to the tip, & waited for ten minutes for someone to come to the window at the drive-in spot. She acted all sympathetic when he told her we had a dead cat, & then told us we had to drive to the tip on the OTHER side of town so they could bury it. My brain screamed, "It's not even my fucking dead cat!" but my mouth smiled & thanked her, the traitorous thing.

Feeling quite guilty at this point, I said to my neighbour "Let's go to YAPS (something beginning with Y Animal Protection Society) instead and see if they'll take it, 'cause YAPS must have dead cats every day." Well, it being 7am or something, fucking YAPS was closed, of course. For my 50th bright idea of the day, I said, "park in that there carpark, cowboy, & pop the trunk." or something along those lines, minus the cowboy part, & I probably said "open the boot" rather than "pop the trunk," but anyway.

I was dragging the dead cat bag out of the boot/trunk, when a big fat lady pulled up out the front and started wandering around, staring at me. Then I noticed we were in the STAFF car park. I rather hurriedly shut the trunk/boot and hauled the dead cat bag over to a nearby dumpster. At this point the big fat lady started marching purposefully over, so I dropped it in and ran back to the car.

That's all.

Just so you know: my cat's name is Buddha. I never say "fuck," I just think it a lot. and when I speak to my neighbour, I stutter & drool 5 times a second, because I never say Anything.

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