Archive for June, 2004

Where is my Mind?

Saturday, June 26th, 2004

It is some relief that I note that I seem to have been able to avoid dropping my belongings in toilets in the last week or so. Unfortunately, I now have a deep-seated mistrust of toilets and their motives; it hasn’t gotten to the point where I lock myself in a bathroom or toilet cubicle, glare at the porcelain throne and say ‘don’t even think about it, pal’, but I fear I’m not all that far away.

Of course, it’s also possible that, in avoiding dropping physical possessions in the lav, I have instead sacrificed my brain to its watery pine-scented depths. I have been a forgetful, tongue-tied airhead of late, which partly accounts for my absense here. My father is very generously suggesting it’s probably a result of my brain responding to all the stress and hard work of the past few weeks. Whatever it is, I have never lived up to my hair colour more (blonde, I mean. I never did end up going cyan. I’m such a puss.).

Last Friday (the 18th) was my last exam, of both the semester and my undergraduate degree (whoo! Now I’m just waiting to find out if I’ve been accepted into Honours). It was for a subject I didn’t particularly like, mostly because it wasn’t very academically rigorous and because, despite the fact that he was very nice, the lecturer who runs it isn’t actually very good at the class teaching side of things. That said, I think I managed to write a couple of fairly decent essays in the 2 hours allotted to the exam, despite the fact that I forgot it was open book, and hence didn’t take anything in with me. Oh yeah, that’s the way to not completely suck at something! Fortunately the sweet girl sitting at the desk next to me was able to lend me her copy of one of the novels, which she’d brought with her despite not having read it and not planning on writing on it (I can’t pretend to understand her logic there but it got me out of a tight spot, so hey). It wasn’t a completely one-sided exchange since I gave her some tissues when she spilled water all over her desk. Thank you, book-lending water-spilling anonymous girl! You saved my arse! Or at least a cheek of it anyway, since I had to write two essays on two different books.

Yesterday I also managed to get my entry for the Glen Eira Literary Awards in on time, despite the fact that I went in to Uni to print it off (I don’t have a printer at home) and didn’t realise until I got there that I hadn’t emailed it to myself or remembered the disc it was on. All this happened an hour before I was due to go to work, and I won’t fill you in on all the details of my running back and forth, except to say that the staff at the Caulfield Library rock my world. I still can’t believe I did that. Normally I can at least nominally pass for well-organised and not completely scatterbrained.

The worst thing that’s happened as far as my brain fucking me over is concerned was the dream I had the other night that a friend of mine who died when I was 15 was still alive, and that we were hanging out together. It was a great dream and I woke up feeling really elated for a moment, until reality set in and I realised what was really going on. That was nasty, and I was pretty upset for the rest of the day.

Other than that, it’s just been stupid shit like forgetting most of my vocabulary and being completely unable to communicate effectively (which has had some hilarious results at work), and general forgetfulness. I hope my brain gets back on track soon, or I will refuse to be held responsible for any actions which may or may not include stabbing it with a cotton tip.

Making a Splash

Wednesday, June 16th, 2004

You don’t want to know how many personal items I’ve dropped in the toilet so far this week. You really don’t.

Super Sized Scariness

Thursday, June 10th, 2004

I’ve not long gotten back from a delightful evening of dinner and Super Size Me with the lovely Bronwyn. I was really impressed with the film; it was hilarious and thought-provoking as well as scary as fuck in terms of the statistics and some of the interviews. I mean, yeah, a lot of the stuff I already knew, much like most people, so it’s not like the information portrayed was a complete shock. That said, there was still enough information I didn’t know, or didn’t know as much as I thought I did, to elicit a few surprised gasps from me at various points thoughtout the film. For one, I am really, really glad I’m not a school child in America buying food from my school’s cafeteria. I thought my school’s caff was crap because you could only buy a salad roll if you ordered it before 9am and my bus didn’t get in until 8:55, but I now see that American schools are taking nutritional crappiness to new lows. I am also glad that, despite being a Uni student squished well under the poverty line along with most of the rest of my kind, I can usually afford to buy fresh and relatively healthy food (that said, I also make a conscious effort to make that a huge financial priority), and I have a fairly good idea of how to get the nutrients my body needs (Step One: Eat the carrot. Step Two: Back away from the Coke and the deep-fried lard). I can’t claim to be the diet and exercise guru (if I was, I wouldn’t be conscientiously trying to lose weight at the moment, because I wouldn’t need to), but the whole “energy in, energy out” equation seems pretty damn simple to me. Obviously it’s not, and there’s a lot of factors obscuring its realisation by many people, or there wouldn’t be so many people with health problems directly related to their weight.

I was relieved that the film relied a lot less on gross-outs than I was worried it might, after the impression I’d gotten from the reviews. Yes, there’s gross moments but there’s also an amount of levity that goes with them: I don’t know how a person comes to the realisation that footage of a gastric bypass operation can be made funny if you set it to classical music, but it can be.

The worst aspect of the film for me was Morgan’s girlfriend, Alex. I have yet to personally meet a vegan who was not completely smug and self-righteous, and she does nothing to squash the stereotype. I actually think veganism has a lot going for it if done properly (I was vegetarian myself for about four years, and did not do it as properly as I could have. Veggo kids, eat your legumes.), and I agree with a lot of the arguments vegans make for their lifestyle. Pity I usually just want to strangle the vegans themselves. I’m sure there’s plenty of nice, non-hysterical vegans who manage to open their mouths without oozing self-righteousness, I just don’t know any personally.
Also, I read an interview with her recently where she said she regretted talking so candidly about the effects of Morgan’s diet on his libido and their sex life. As someone who has been known to talk far too candidly about her own sex life, I feel I can smugly and self-righteously say: well, yeah, honey, you sound like a dick. Not so much in what she was saying, but in the way that she was saying it. If you’re not comfortable talking about sex, don’t. If you’re not able to talk much at all without sounding like you have the combined IQ of Paris Hilton and a housebrick, then please don’t. Fortunately, despite the amount that’s been written about her in reviews and the fact that she seems to be using the documentary to further her own career, she’s actually not present all that much.

In other news, I nearly had a heart attack today when I sat down to write an exam and discovered, with one exception, none of the stuff I’d swotted up on for it was actually on the blasted exam. That was fun.

Reasons I Am Going To Hell – in handy list form!

Wednesday, June 9th, 2004

Okay, so I have a lot of stuff to write about, and not a lot of time to write, being in the midst of exams and all. I am also currently a bloated, belligerent PMS monster and should not be allowed near anybody. Thus, in lieu of a proper update, I give you this handy list. Note that while I’ve numbered it, the numbers don’t really represent an ordered list of reasons. I just thought it looked better that way.

1. Sometimes I pretend to be a neo-Nazi for my own entertainment.
2. I have been known to try to convince people I have a “special” relationship with Jesus. Insert jokes about the Second Coming here.
3. I sing Peaches and Nashville Pussy songs to my eight-month-old niece because I can’t remember any nursery rhymes.
4. I make far more retard jokes and do far more retard impersonations than can really be considered appropriate in any context.
5. I also occasionally pretend to be retarded while making out with Stuart (disturbingly, this does nothing to cool his ardour).
6. I wish syphilis on my enemies, and people who push in front of me in queues.
7. I hate most of the people I serve at work on sight, and assume they’re morons. It’s scary how often I’m proven right.
8. When friends ask me what I think about their partners or the state of their romantic relationships, I am honest.
9. Despite being a left-wing feminist I seem to hate most other lefties and feminists that I know. Guess I just can’t play nice with anybody.
10. Because I can’t think of a tenth reason even though I know there’s many, many more.