OK, so here's the deal: normally right before a test I do everything I can to avoid studying. Often I find myself planning the rest of my degree 'cos at least it's got something to do with school (it makes me feel less guilty I guess). So at 12pm today I have a test, and as normal I'm planning the rest of my degree
Anyway, up to now I thought that with some cunning on my part I'd be able to get out of this place in a year (that's 6 months early). I figured 2 Summer Semesters and BAM! I'm out of here. Every time I'd looked, I've been able to do this.
This time? Notsomuch.
Turns out that the compulsary third year paper I have to do as a geography major has been moved to Second Semester instead of First (when I was planning to do it).
What does this mean?
Well, it means I'm stuck in the hell hole that is Auckland for another six-God-damn months!! It also means that I have to do Summer School AND Second Semester. (I have to do Summer School as if I want to specialise in GIS (and I do) I have to do a course only offered in Summer School).
Fucking stupidity. If I wanted to specialise in physical geography and GIS I'd be fine, no problems, but I'm a human geographer through and through - I understand societies, cities and humans much more then I do waves and rivers and biogeography. If I didn't want to do GIS I'd be fine but the problem is, most of the jobs in geography are GIS based, or at least require understanding of GIS.
So what to do? I could get a Summer job that allows me to do a part-time Summer Semester I guess then do Second Semester as well (I was really hoping to be out of here come Second Semester). I could do Second Semester part-time (but then I have to work in Auckland in an actual job and quite frankly, fuck that). It's not all bad, there are other courses offered in Second Semester I was wanting to do and now I guess I can do them, but I really don't want to do both Summer and Second Semesters I guess.
I guess I'll sort it when I come to it, but I really wish they'd just put 315 into first Semester. Then I'd be happy.
Anyway, guess I should go learn about walking school busses...
Also, I'm currently on my break from a split shift. Due to pure idiocy my boss was going to work ANOTHER 20 hour day (that'd make it 4 this week). I told him I'd do the lates and he could go get some sleep.
Here's the pain in the ass thing: the break in has changed our lives, and not necasarily for the better.
On one hand we've got ourselves a monitored alarm, security doors, insurance and written down the serial number of every major electronic in this house.
On the other we're afraid to sleep with our doors closed, afraid to turn off the bathroom light at night, afraid to leave and afraid to stay.
OK, it's not so much we're afraid as we feel safer with those things.
Yesterday I left the house for 10 minutes to go get a paper (I needed it for an assignment, and it had to be yesterday's paper), I felt free and at the same time worried. Free because I'd made it out of the house. Worried because I'd left Holly in there alone.
Today Holly left for work. I slept through her getting up, having a shower and getting ready, but the moment she closed the door (the new lock requires a bit of a slam) I sat bolt upright in bed. Took me about 5 minutes to work out why Holly wasn't here and what had woken me up.
We had almost as many people though our house yesterday then we have had collectively since we moved in.
I would quite like to go to uni today but I can't leave. Still more people are coming (today it's the glazier to replace two panes of glass the fucker cracked when his monkey foot kicked down our fucking door). Plus until the alarm and the safety doors are installed, we're not keen to leave the place.
I hate that he's changed our life. With three kicks he has changed our life.
I can't express how angry that makes me. That he broke into our house with the intention of taking our stuff that we have worked hard for. That he just wanted to take it, and that his greed has led to our fear. That he has made us feel unsafe in our own home because he wanted a PS2 or a big screen TV? That's the worst thing. That all this was over a few fucking gadgets.
How to say this? Well this morning while sleeping I heard some loud banging - nothing unusual for this house as the pipes can get pretty loud from time to time. Also we back right on to the train tracks so noise doesn't tend to disturb me much.
This time was different however because after the banging I heard my flatmate yelling "What the fuck do you think you're doing?!"
For those who haven't met my flatmate she's lovely. Usually very even tempered and she doesn't swear. Her yelling is really what woke me up. I sat bolt upright in bed and asked "What? ME?!" to which she opened my door and said "no, some bastard's just broken down our door."
So after struggling into my pajamas I ran out to discover this:
He kicked our door down!!
Basically he'd knocked on the door (and woken up Holly who couldn't be bothered answering), then knocked on Holly's window (which made her suspect something), then tried to break down the back door (which somehow we overlooked until about 30 minutes ago), then the front.
Once in the front door, he got about a step in before Holly ran out screaming, then he took off.
Cops were here within 5 minutes, then fingerprint people, then the landlord, then builders and security experts.
We've had phone calls from family, friends and called an alarm company. The security on this place is going to be beefed up something shocking by the end of the week and until then Holly and I will be extremely reluctant to leave it. (Infact both of us are reluctant to leave each other at the moment).
It got us thinking, it's got us moving. We refuse to give in to this asshole. We're not moving, we're going to beef up security and move on. Fuck him. What kind of a wanker invades the home of two women in search of some electronics and DVDs? Obviously if he were going to be violent we'd have known about it by now, and I think Holly gave him such a fright he won't be coming back (we hadn't answered the door at all and yet we were home, there is no guarantee that we answer the door when we're home). Really this is the best thing that could happen, but there's something about a home invasion that shocks to your core.
He was here, he invaded our privacy, our home. He came with the intent of taking our things that we worked hard to have. He wanted to take them from us without earning it. He wanted to do it the easy way.
Quite frankly every blog and site I check has been checked today... including many hours wasted on YouTube so I guess I realy should do something a little more productive. In an ideal world I'd work on my geography lab, but this is not an ideal world and I cannot be fucked.
Actually that's a good place to start. Uni. It seems to be a giant push at the moment. I'm just not interested in it at all and I'd rather waste hours surfing YouTube, which actually discusts myself. In 20 years time (infact possibly less then that) I'm going to regret so badly doing it, but I just cannot get the motivation to get off my ass and go learn. It's perhaps aided by the fact I don't seem to be actually learning anything when I do go. I'm highly unimpressed with this semester's courses, but I know for a fact I started the semester feeling like this and that I'm not the only one behaving this way.
So there's uni which is just a giant pile of assignments to me (seriously, like 4 a week), then there's work. Here's the thing: work's finally becoming bearable. I go in, I know what I'm doing. I know where the problems are, I know what to expect. But some of my workmates are so freaking lazy. I feel like I go in and I'm the only one attempting to make the place run. I'm the only person cleaning, the only person vacuuming, the only person changing the ads and trailers. I don't like these jobs, no projectionist in their right mind likes these jobs, but they need to be done, and I am the only one doing them (or at least that's how it feels).
The funny thing is I texted my old boss, the one who pretty much got me to the level I am today and had a little whine and a moan. She told me to put my head down, get on with it and keep my most murderous thoughts to myself and I'd get the recognition. I figured yeah: recognition in the way of more work. Turns out she was right. I found out that our rosters had been altered and my previous day shifts had been swaped for swings. I'm told the complex manager wants one of two people doing those swings (it's the opening of Pirates of the Caribbean this week so it's a big one): my projection manager and me. Aparently someone has indeed noticed my hard work, and that makes me all warm and fuzzy :)
I'm going to my Grandmother's (surprise) 80th birthday in a couple of weeks and I'm really looking forward to it. I'm pretty sure I'm going to be the only representitive from my particular branch of the family there but heaps of my cousins and family I like is going to be there so it'll be really fantastic to catch up with them all. As a cherry on top the whole thing's opened up a bunch of lines of communication that have been shut for a while so I'm getting in touch with cousins and aunts and things and that's really great.
I'm really looking forward to the season finales of Lost and Heroes this week. ABC announced a while back that lost is ending in 2010 - 3 more seasons, 16 eps each, running back to back from January. This is AWESOME news for Lost fans. Season 3 has given us more answers then the last two but it's still question after question. It'll be awesome when it all comes together. I don't much like talking about what may or may not be happenning but I'm sure it'll be good. I'm losing interest in Grey's Anatomy tho. I'll still buy season 3 on DVD when it comes out at Amazon and I'm reserving judgement until I've watched it but 'Jumping the Shark' comes to mind when I think of it.
I've been spending some time on nzdating.com over the holidays and it amazes me the behaviour of men.
I mean, why do they send me pictures of their penis?
I liken it to meeting someone in a bar. Noone walks up to a girl in a bar, flops out their piece and says "hey babe, you want to suck on this? Come out to Manukau and we'll get in on in the back of my car" and yet the online equivelent of this (sending a pic and a message) seems to be entirely appropriate.
I'm not that difficult to get into bed, I'm really not. The hardest bit is getting me to actually meet a guy. Once I'm meeting him all he has to do is carry a conversation and flirt. It might take a few dates, but it'll happen.
To be honest my profile says I'm bored and I'll chat "even if it's about your penis" but that is a JOKE. If guys actually want to talk about it, I always ask what they call it and then steer the conversation to something else, it's not an invitation to send me lurid pics. I understand the confusion but it happens to girls who don't have that on their profile.
So today's Good Friday. Today is the day that Jesus died nailed to a cross to pay for our sins. Horay for Jesus.
I woke up this morning and thought "I want to relax infront of the TV and watch Boy Meets World" (I've been slowly working my way thru the episodes, I'm onto season 3). So I went to turn on my TV.
The remote didn't work so I thought "Holly's turned it off again" and went to press the button, but the button was already pressed. A quick check said yes, it is plugged in... the projectionist in me plugged it into other sockets to see if it was the sockets...
My TV died on Easter Friday.
So according to the story, Jesus was resurrected 3 days later (Easter Sunday).
So we're wonderring... will my TV ressurrect on Sunday??
My flatmate and I have decided to update our respecive journals with something a little substantial because we are both slack (we are slack because we're working our asses off opening a new cinema).
So the new cinema - well, we have the world's biggest screen (yay us), we have bean-bag chairs in one cinema (it's called the half pipe if you want to go to it), we have the lay-z-boys in LaPremiere and we have lots of leg room. Our tickets are no more then SkyCity or Rialto so if you're in Auckland come check us out at Sylvia Park.
OK, so that's the pimping done. In all honesty I'm working like a dog when I'm there. I don't feel comfortable pointing out all the issues online but they are there. The technical issues will be addressed in the coming weeks, but staffing issues (there is a serious lack of projectionists for one thing) are going to be harder to fix.
But we're busy. I got home last night (after a 12 hour day with no breaks) and went to the toilet. While I was there I realised I hadn't actually been to the toilet all day - every time I tried to go I got stopped.
How insane is that - so busy I forgo a basic human function.
Don't even ask about eating. We're surviving on a mix of sugar and caffine pretty much.
The new flat is nice, our landlord's a bit funny but the flat's cool. Our neighbours moved out today. Holly (my flatmate) and I think our new neighbours should be two oiled, tanned and toned men who will become our slaves and change DVDs for us, and make us dinner and massage our feet.
Hey, we work 12-16 hour days - we can dream!!
What else has gone on in my life since moving from the hostel? Um... oh. I got laid.
Heh... been dying to use that as a title for over a week now. Quite possibly the world's funniest quote... but anyway...
I'm beginning to think that perhaps I don't take enough risks... that perhaps there's alot more to life then what I do with it. That there are people out there to meet, people to fuck, things to do.
That perhaps the existence I've been carving for myself over the years - hiding in my own shell, celebate (the exact time period for that one will not be announced to the world...) and hiding away from everything - well, maybe that's not the way I should live.
The way I'm living now is a damn sight better then the way I was living in mid-2003 where I literally didn't leave my room for fear of gaining the Wrath of The Evil Flatmate. At least life isn't like that anymore.
I'm also not depressed - I'm quite healthy and happy. A little dissatisfied with my weight, but I'd like to think I'm making some positive moves about that - I'm discovering more about myself - I've just got to work up the courage to get the help I need for all that.
I'm not addicted to drugs of any kind, I'm smoke-free, THC-free and (contrary to what those on the 207 field trip might think) I'm not a big drinker.
I get good grades, hold down a job... I'm incredibly lucky in that I'll be moving soon which means a better place and a better job (so excited about the new job).
But I still feel as if I'm missing love, affection. I think part of me feels like I don't deserve it, like I'm too fat, too ugly, too damaged. That it's going to take a special person to understand me - and perhaps all that's true - but I've been getting offers lately - lots of offers. Up until now I've turned down each and every one of them but I'm beginning to wonder if I really should?
Then I get to the point where I almost say yes, the crucial moment, and I freeze. I realise if I have sex with this person that person will abandon me and I'll have to stay and pick up the pieces all over again. That to have sex with that person means tears, and heartbreak and depression and time that I just don't want to spend mending my broken heart again.
Now I realise exactly how badly I was hurt all those years ago. I might not feel anything toward the person now, but I got very badly hurt, and even worse, very badly scarred - and I'm still paying for that one night
Sometimes people like to prove to the world just what kind of idiots they really are. Today I've had a fantastic example of idiocy.
Firstly some background info: I'm a LOTR collector, and back in '04 I picked up some bags at the world premiere that I have been slowly selling when I am poor. I'm down to my last couple and I'd like a good price for them. I've recently put one up on TradeMe where it's been getting a large number of hits and while it hasn't hit reserve yet, these things never do until the last few hours anyway.
So I have this listing, it's doing ok, and then today I get this comment come through my inbox:
"have you checked out the $200 fading ticket stubb above this auction? i hope you all get your prices, i just want your newer bag as i have used MY bag until it is all tacky-looking! lol! :) these sorts of things are not rare at all but the LOTR craze is over. i have put up one-of-a-kind original art for as little as $1 reserve & not got even a nibble! so i wish you well, you guys, i really do!"
This almost killed me. No collector actually uses their bag. None! We have these bags as keepsakes, and they're either protected behind fadeproof glass or tucked away in some dry but dark corner with the rest of our valuable collections. To say his bag is all 'tacky-looking' makes me want to do nothing but hit him with a large and heavy stick!
So I wrote a sweet little reply that went like this:
"lol, well I'm not selling a used ticket stub, I'm selling a genuine collector's item, which many people would keep in pristine condition rather then abusing. You're right, the LOTR craze is over, my 'buy now' price is significantly higher then my reserve price and I don't honestly expect the buy now price to be reached, although it would be nice if it did. These bags, in good condition, rarely come on the market - less then 3000 were made and a significant proportion of them were thrown away. If a genuine collector (and yes, they still exist) wants this item, they will pay the quite reasonable reserve price for it."
Kinda nice seeing as this person seems to be a bit of a nut job and really I just wanted to remove their bid and tell them to go fuck themselves.
Then this evening I log on to find the following two comments:
"touche' about not taking care of one's collector's items...but i have so many!...and all is doomed to fade into the west! :) the bags were designed to be useful after all, & it's tempting to skite around town when you have one"
you must be gettingRrepeat views & people must covet this for its usefulness & commerciality after all! i write "rare" on many of my auctions for things that truly are, ie One of a Kind paintings & prints but they only get the odd hit, i can only assume because it's just "useless" art executed by an "unknown" artist! the original of one belongs to sean astin. he loved it & told me it was going into his LOTR museum. but no one i've told believes me & so far have had little interest in it!"
Here is what I would write if only I hadn't come to the conclusion that this person has some sort of a mental disorder.
Yes, I'm touchy about people who don't take care of their collectors items: if they are not taken care of, they cease to be collectors items. Good for you for having so many, I have quite a few myself - that's the point of being a collector - to amass a collection (or 'collect'). Some may be tempted to skite around town, but most people are secure enough in themselves that they don't have to walk around name dropping. "Rare" means just that - that it 'rarely' comes about, ie only once and a while. "One of a kind" means there is only one. I know perfectly well there is more then one of these bags around - I own more then one. Yes, your art is really quite crap. Fan art hardly ever gets bought because collectors see no point in owning it - if it were an original John Howe or Alan Lee painting then it would be worth thousands, but yours unfortunately is not. No-one belives your story because every man and his dog in this country has a LoTR story - I have numerous LoTR stories. To quote a very famous movie: "You are not special, you are the all singing, all dancing shit of the world"
OK, your holiday is almost over and the weather's a bit crap (at least if you live in New Zealand. If you don't not you're probably at work so have you really got anything better to do?) so I thought I'd post a question to the users of LiveJournal (well, my very small friends list and the people they point to this post... *hint hint*)
I've recently discovered that I am the world's worst flirt. This most likely accounts for the rather long dry-patch I have had and also for the fact that I rarely get anybody I actually want (as opposed to the ones I don't want who I have to turn away which just makes me feel worse given the unreasonably long dry-patch...)
Anyway, because I'm useless at subtlities (otherwise I'd have no problem with the flirting) here it is straight up:
How do you flirt?
What are your 'moves'?
What's the thing guaranteed to get you in the sack?
Because I'm sick of not knowing, because dammit I am a sexy woman who likes sex, who is just a wee bit picky and who has no idea how to tell the ones she does like that she likes them.
So I ask for your help, the help of the Livejournal community at large - help a girl get laid.
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