To You

No, stop wondering, I'm addressing this post to you. Yes, you, the person currently reading this particular post of my blog. I've decided to stop complaining about how "difficult" my life is for one night, and we--- we need to talk about our complicated relationship. Yes, this is one of those serious moments where you wipe that smile off your face, and you get an "oh shit" feeling in your gut.

Now, if you are not completely retarded (and I do hope you're not), you should realise that I have a life off the internet. I am a real person, I go to school, I have a bunch of friends and are associated with certain people etc., etc. This blog is essentially a massive spill of the frustrations of my personal life. Note: personal. The obvious question, I guess then, is "WHY ARE YOU SHARING THIS WITH THE INTERNET IF IT'S SO PERSONAL?" Well, because I need a place to vent, and sadly I do not have anyone who can tolerate all of my complaints at once. I have many frustrations, some of them more serious than others, whilst most are just fucking pathetic. I know they are. But that doesn't mean they're going to stop bothering me, and it doesn't mean that I'm going to magically get over it. I hate to hold all my frustrations in- now that I've experienced the relief of sharing my misery, I don't think I'd like to go back to keeping all my frustrations internal.

Due to the sensitive nature of some of my posts- e.g. the ones where I rage hard at my parents (I only hate them on an on-and-off basis), I try to keep my posts completely detached from life off the internet. Don't understand what completely detached means? Here, let me rephrase it for you in retard language: I. Am. Two. Different. People. Online. And. Offline. And. I. Do. Not. Want. My. Two. Identities. To. Be. Associated (oh sorry, is this word too hard?). With. Each. Other. If you still don't understand, that's okay, because you're probably semi-illiterate and you wouldn't understand half the stuff I write anyway.

Vane is my name. It's just not a name which appears on any of my legal documents. However, Vane still refers to me. Understand the concept of a nickname? That's what "Vane" is. However, only a few close friends know my legal name as well as "Vane". Even fewer of those read anything I post on here. I guess this post is really addressed at you guys.

Guys, for fuck's sake, don't share my blog with people in real life. I guess it's my fault for not making it clear enough when I said I "wanted attention". That's why I'm telling you now. I want internet fame, not real world fame. These are two completely and utterly different concepts. What's great about the internet? Anonymity. I went by Vane instead of "Anon" to be vaguely creative. It's okay for me to go into this kind of personal stuff if it's you guys. You're my close friends, anyway. I would've related similar content to you over  an instant messenger or face to face. The reason I don't, as I've mentioned, is because I know my troubles are pathetic and I don't want to annoy you. I know none of you would seriously shut me off in a conversation, if I were to tell you how my parents were annoying me yadayada. Do you want to hear that though? Probably not. Well, at least I'm giving you a choice by posting it on a blog.

NO ONE IS FORCING YOU TO READ MY FUCKING BLOG.

If you think I complain too much--- yeah, I do. And? At least I had the decency to give you an option of not hearing any of this at all.

As for my other readers: probably just some dude/chic surfing the internet, and you just stumbled across this blog. Cool. The story of my life is on here. It's pretty average. Feel free to have an opinion of me. That's fine, because you probably don't know who I am unless you're a major stalker. I'm just another kid who posts angsty stuff. As if you don't see enough of this crap around on the internet. You don't care, and that's why I love you.

Yet, if someone who was not a friend, happened to draw the link between my real life identity and Vane, well I'm in a lot of shit. Don't contemplate showing this blog to my teachers, not even at graduation. I don't fucking care if it's going to be "the last time" I see them. Fucking don't. Some of you tell me that I'm too obsessed with my teachers. I'm not obsessed. I will quite openly and freely admit that I like them. I like them a lot. I like them better than most people. You just think I'm obsessed because they're my teachers. If I talked about another one of my friends to the same extent, you'd think it was normal. And you know what? I think you're more obsessed about them than I am. Or rather, you're obsessed with the fact that you think I'm obsessed about them.

In the end though, they're teachers. True, I like them. Yeah, I treat them more as a friend. Yet there's a professional code of conduct which I respect, and this blog draws the line. Offline, I'm a student. Online, I rant about everyone and everything. Let's keep it that way. I don't want this to get awkward in real life. I have my own relationships to maintain, and I'd appreciate it if they weren't sabotaged by you unconsciously. I like my relationship with them the way it is now, let's not make it more intimate.

Got it? Good.

Vanetology

I'm determined to become filthy rich in the near future, and I reckon I've got the right sort of mind to do it. See, when I was at the UMAT, instead of freaking out and stressing like everyone else was, I was thinking this:
Huh, you can only do this test in pencil. That means it'll be something everybody needs. HEY, I COULD TOTALLY SELL PENCILS AT THE DOOR FOR $2 EACH! Holy fuck, I could be rich! Then I realised that everyone else had brought pencils along--- but I could advertise my pencils as lucky pencils or something. I'll use a combination of temptation and threat: "Use lucky pencils, and it will guide you to the correct answer if you haven't got a clue! For every blind guess you make, you'll guess correctly! Don't disadvantage yourself by using a normal pencil--- buy a lucky pencil for the price of $2!"

It was a shame I only thought about it back then. I wish I had gone through with it.

So then I thought: what makes money these days? The answer struck without me thinking too hard: religion. The church is soooo incredibly rich--- like, you wonder where all that money goes: it's not like priests are allowed to blow it on hookers and cocaine. Not that it matters. Scientology was the inspiration. The founder of Scientology obviously realised that there was money in religion.

Then what's stopping me from starting my own religion? I mean, there's no proof for any religion, so I can make this up, can't I? I believe all religions are made up anyway. Thus, ladies and gentleman, I present you with...

Rubik's Cube and a Fuckload of Awkwardness

I went to a family friend dinner thing roughly 2 weeks ago. The lady who hosted the dinner had two sons who were outgrowing their toys, so she decided to give some to my 4 year old sister. Among those toys was a shitty Rubik's cube which I took off my sister, because I haven't had a Rubik's cube in a million years. So I spend some time on the internet, look up algorithms and learn how to solve the cube.

Now the cube was really, really shit, meaning that it took a mighty amount of effort to turn. I could hear it creak every time I moved a layer. My roommate, seeing my efforts, gave me his Rubik's cube. Though I know shit all about Rubik's cubes and their qualities, I can tell that his was a looooot better than mine, and it looked like one of those ones you use for speedsolving (the name is self-explanatory, right?)

Back in the holidays, I was still preparing for the med entrance exams which I recently failed. I left the Rubik's cubes on the side, and starting filling out a practise paper. Then my parents unleashed my sister on me, because this world fucking hates me. I sat at my desk, trying to concentrate for the timed exam, but my sister made hideous sounds, screaming, laughing, pulling my arm- whatever little kids do to get your attention. I'm not the most patient person in the world. This is what I hate about my parents- they set my schedule for me without telling me. They had obviously decided that I should play with my sister then and do the exams later at night- but I was already half way through.

My sister continued to nag me- she wanted the Rubik's cube. Frustrated because I couldn't solve the problem in front of me and because my sister's presence isn't making it any easier, I threw my cube at her. The shitty one. Then she talked back at me. "WHY CAN'T I HAVE THE OTHER ONE?" I tried telling her that it wasn't mine, and that's why she couldn't have it. Obviously she didn't understand, because she just kept on repeating "but I want it". Finally, I gave in, because I was too pissed to care. I was in a bad mood all holiday, anyway.

Then she ran away with my roommate's Rubik's cube, and I never saw it again. I don't think I would have remembered, except last night, he asked that I return his cube to him. Then I said, "oh, my sister has it."

This morning, as I was eating breakfast I asked Dad where my sister had put the cube. He answered calmly that my sister had broken it to bits, and he had shoved the pieces all into a plastic bag. I was... astounded. Then he told me to hurry up and finish my breakfast, even though we were running early. Know what I hate about him? When time is scarce, he does nothing to help except complain about why everyone else around him is responsible, and nags everyone to hurry up whilst circling the room like a fly. AND WE WEREN'T EVEN RUNNING FOR TIME THIS MORNING. I somehow kept calm and told him that the cube wasn't mine.

"WELL WHAT DOES SHE KNOW? SHE'S ONLY 4!" That was his defense? Great. Fucking fantastic. I KNOW SHE'S 4. I KNOW IT'S MY FAULT. I'M JUST PISSED AT HOW YOU DON'T GIVE A SHIT THAT SHE JUST DAMAGED SOMEONE ELSE'S PROPERTY. Argh. Then I told him my main concern- I can't believe I had to explain the awkward situation I faced to him. Does he have no empathy? Of course, his responses only enraged me further. Oh, what can I expect from him?
"I'll tell him then"
"Just buy him a new one" (I know that he means I should buy him a new one)
"Well what else can we do?"


Gee, thanks for being so unhelpful. I appreciate it.

Just then, my roommate spoke directly to my parents, asking for his cube back. I felt so incredibly bad, since he had to ask my parents for it.  I can only hear the murmurs of their conversation from outside, since I'm in my room. But I'm now playing ear-deafening music, pretending not to know anything.

Oh God, take me away, now.

Dad and the Router

As you know I've had difficulties using the internet these past few days- and I was on the verge of calling our ISP except I hate talking to people over the phone. Then later Dad asks me- rather- interrogates me on whether I've breached our download limit, thus causing internet speeds to drop. I thought we just got charged extra, didn't know our speeds would drop. Anyway, the answer is no, I haven't downloaded anything massive. With the plan we have the family can use a gig a day and still have heaps to spare at the end of the month. Since Dad only uses internet to read news- yeah, it was highly unlikely that we were capped.

But then he bitches to me about how speeds are slow and blah blah blah (I don't really remember what he said). So I was all like "okay call the ISP then". He then procrastinates on doing so, and I don't think he likes calling people either. Then I thought, hmmm, what would a normal person try first, before calling the ISP? I read the troubleshooting thing on Chrome, and it said something along the lines of RESTART YOUR ROUTER.

That moment when you realise, "huh, I'm actually retarded."

Excited, I rush out of my room--- and I stop half way because I realise the router is at the front of the house, where Dad's inconvenient friend now lives. I ask Dad whether his friend is home and still asleep, and luckily for me he was out. Then I was all like, "HEY DAD DAD DAD WE SHOULD RESTART THE ROUTER. IT'S A PERFECT OPPORTUNITY SINCE YOUR FRIEND ISN'T SLEEPING OR SOMETHING."
And I was sorta expecting a response like "oh yeeeeah we should restart the router!", except I forgot that I was talking to Dad.
"Router? Why would it be the router?"
Then I tell him the router has magical powers which gives us internet access, so when our internet doesn't work properly we should try the router.
"I think we should just contact [our ISP]"
So I spend the next 5 minutes telling him why we should try everything we can try before we contact the ISP. God knows when they'll respond, and if we haven't even tried restarting the router before contacting them, they'll probably rage.

Reluctantly, Dad trudges off to his friend's room to restart the router. I wait 10min for him to come out and tell me that he couldn't find a restart button, so he had to cut the power supply and reconnect it. Well, never mind that, because whoooo my internet is working like it was before. So I tell Dad that everything is okay now, and I sort of expected a "oh you're so great I never thought about restarting the router forgive me for stubbornly wanting to call the ISP before I tried your suggestions".

But of course, it was Dad.

"Huh, isn't that peculiar? Why would restarting the router work?"

[I can't think of a title]

I blink, and I lose another hour of my day. After wasting an entire day doing nothing I'm still thinking, "where has my time gone?" I don't feel like I've lived this day. I find myself in random intervals of time, and then I start wondering why I'm here and what I'm doing. My memory is still intact.

I have so much work to do, and so little desire to do it. The conflict is killing me. It's nothing particularly difficult, and if I think about it, it's nothing long, either. Then I can only attribute my inefficiency to lack of motivation. When it's about 9 or 10pm, my brain starts feeling dull and heavy, like it wants me to rest. This is completely strange, of course, as I have no habit of sleeping before 12. Not that it makes a difference when I sleep, I suppose. I refuse to do work, after all.

I'm in the mood for travelling. I have this urge to hitchhike to where ever with a light backpack on my shoulders, then walk in a direction which pleases me. When I feel tired I'll sit down in a warm place and absorb the sunlight. I'll just pretend that there's no need to worry about food, money or a place to sleep. I'll magically teleport home at nightfall.

School bores me. There isn't a single unit which I really enjoy. I've always liked English, but the book we have to read--- "True History of the Kelly Gang" has no punctuation. It's a pain to read, and I guess I've never found Australian history particularly intriguing.  As for maths... I like Graph Theory more than I like Calculus- it's a shame that I have no talent for understanding Graph Theory. They are both interesting, to a certain extent, but I think I'm getting bored of them.

Then there's Psychology. I love the subject, but I seriously picked the wrong unit. I should've gone with "Personality and Happiness" as opposed to "Infancy to Adulthood". Blergh. And let's forget about chemistry. I liked it because I was good at it, and it never really fascinated me. Now that I'm no longer good at it, I find it boring as hell. I don't think I like science in general. If I had to choose I think I'd prefer religious studies.

...Which is kind of ironic, coming from me- since I make fun of those missionaries who try to strike conversation with me at bus stops. I'll tell that story some other day.

Internet, Fifty Shades

Dying internet makes it difficult to blog. I never realised how much of an inconvenience it was, when images refuse to load. The phone has been ringing outside for at least 30 seconds, I can hear it but I pretend not to, because I'm too lazy to walk out and pick it up. It's probably nothing important. And even if it was, it can wait til tomorrow.

I have a whole night to do maths, but I still haven't started. I want to make a complaint to our ISP right about now. It's like I'm on dial-up again, except now if I try to play Adventure Quest I'll disconnect. Actually if I were on dial-up I would have disconnected when the phone rang.

I also hate the fact how wifi only reaches the front part of our house. Where I am, I have zero wifi access. So annoying. My phone has 3G- it's virtually non-existent anyway- I can never connect to anything anywhere.

I was browsing an online bookstore, looking for things to read--- and I found all these rip-offs of Fifty Shades of Grey. There are like a spawn of books where there's a successful, handsome entrepreneur with sexual fetishes, and they're all direly attracted to the female lead. I sorta want to facepalm. These people obviously didn't learn how to plagiarise properly when they were in high school. Here, have a look at the titles:
Haven of Obedience
Destined to Play
The Ninety Days of Genevieve
Eighty Days Yellow (I lol'd at this one the hardest. Yup, substituting Grey of Yellow)
Intimate Adventures
Dark Secret
Forbidden Desires
The Discipline
...
and then they become less subtle. I assume the authors were all like, "fuck it" by this point:
Taking Her Boss
Under His Hand
Seven Day Loan
For Your Pleasure
Going Down
Night Moves
Cuffing Kate
Taste of Pleasure
The Sexual Life of Catherine
...
Okay I'm tired of typing out titles. But why the fuck is my online bookstore only showing these kind of books? Are these all bestsellers now? Geez.

Oh right, I was in the "Shades of Romance" section. So what, Fifty Shades started its own genre now? Wow. Twilight started the teen soppy sweet romance, and Fifty Shades started the BDSM style romance. Great. The world takes yet another plummet into shallow litera--- no, it's not literature, is it? What do you call it? Well, I'm slightly amused. Having read a fuckload of classic literature, I must admit I have a bit of an elitist attitude towards those who read what I consider as junk obsessively.

I mean, reading the first set is fine, because everyone's doing it, and we're all victims to invisible social pressures. But then finding this stuff too interesting to give up and then continuing with the genre... Even I wouldn't go that far. Well, my over-blown ego wouldn't let me go that far. I might, otherwise.

Having said that... I might try to finish reading the entire Fifty Shades trilogy.

I finally noticed

Hey, I passed my 100th post! Well, I was on my 100th post like, two posts ago, but still. And holy shit my blog has 32XX views. Woah. I swear the rate at which my view count has been increasing has not dropped since I made a change somewhere and told it to stop counting views from myself. I'm secretly pleased (because I feel like a celebrity) but then I'm like, "huh, I'm basically spilling details of my private life to the internet. This shit's gonna be up here for like... forever man. Oh gawd."

Let's hope my parents never find this. And my teachers. And everyone else I talked shit about.

Not that there's anything too private about my private life, anyway. If I recall correctly most of my posts concern me bitching about everyone and everything around me, and a majority of those probably concern how I don't get along with my parents. Eh, tough life. At least my parents provide me with a heater in winter (although they decide to economize by never turning it on). Oh the pains of having to turn on the heater yourself, and then getting yelled at for wasting energy when it's "not even that cold". Well sometimes they have a point, it's never that cold inside the house, but I hate wearing more than 3 layers. Even when I wear 3 layers I feel like it's too much. 2 layers is the best, a t-shirt and a light jumper. Though wearing a t-shirt isn't the smartest thing to do when you're freezing your ass off.

I want summer, and I want summer now. Why do I have another chemistry major prac next week? I did so badly in my test already, anyway. Why does my English creative need to be handed in by Monday?


O Romeo life, Romeo life, wherefore art thou Romeo so difficult?

My Internet is Dying

Everything is taking forever to load. I mean, this is probably some divine force telling me to stop fucking wasting time on the computer and start doing maths, but my head is too foggy to process anything. Also, my maths book is in my bag. That's just... too distant.

I can sort of visualize my internet as a patient in bed, talking normally then occasionally spluttering blood all over the floor. I think the imagery came from Bleach, where this guy with white hair coughed blood all over the place. I think his name was Ukitake?

This guy^

Not that it's relevant. But my internet is seriously being a bitch. It's not completely disconnected, but nothing would load properly. So I go on a site and none of the images would load, or the template is just messed up. Then I get this error from blogger saying "An error occurred while trying to save or publish your post. Please try again." What a pain. So if I close this window like a stupid bitch I'm going to lose all my content. Wonderful. No, I don't type up my posts in Word (like I hear other people do) and edit them for ages. That's why my posts are rife with spelling and grammatically grammatical errors.

Oh look, stuff just loaded then. This, is why I say my internet is like a dying patient. It sometimes makes a recovery, but I bet it'll go to shit in a couple of minutes. Maybe I should just open a million tabs while it's still working...

Whew!

Aw I can breathe again. That stupid psych oral is finally gone. I'm glad it was just one of those things where excessive preparation was unnecessary, and I was just able to sorta like... bullshit my way through my presentation. The rubric said 10-15min, but since I was the only presentation in a 1hr lesson I talked on and on and on and... This is what happens when you right shitty speech notes and you don't follow it. I expanded on the points I had but I didn't know where to stop, so when I had run out of things to explain I gave up.

So I was all like, "I DON'T GIVE A FUCK" at this time yesterday. I was so overwhelmed by failing UMAT and how I had to make up a 10-15min presentation (which also required a fuckload of research) in one night.

...Then I got up to do my presentation- and hey, it wasn't that bad. I said I was afraid of embarrassing myself- but I haven't since high school. Like, I wasn't spectacular every presentation I did, but for my worst one (in Economics last year) I wasn't even the worst in the class. My psych class was surprisingly cooperative, they answered all my questions and they seemed genuinely interested.

Then I thought: huh, too bad I failed my major prac and I'm going to fail my end-of-unit test (missed roughly a term of psych class work, because I didn't feel like paying attention). I had expected a C for my psych major prac, because I did it all in one night, did not hand in a draft and oh lord my memories of that were not pleasant. I finished my experiment like... a couple of days before the write-up? And the write-up was started a couple of days before it was due... I wonder how I got the research done for that. Ergh. So anyway if you haven't guessed I got my prac back and it was like BAM 86.5 (which is an A, albeit a low one). How Asian of me (well not really, 86.5 is fail by Asian standards). Still, I've never been so pleased with a mark... which is strange, because 86.5 isn't even that high. It was probably because I had actually expected to fail, instead of saying "I'M GOING TO FAIL THIS SO BAD"  and secretly expecting a 90+.

...Let's just say my psych teacher became a whole lot more attractive, easy-going and humorous in my eyes after that incident. I love how my marks change what I think about my teacher.

If only these pleasant surprises occurred more often in life.

Post UMAT

I'm so tired right now I can't add two and two in my head.

...Okay I lied, two and two is four.

But I am tired. I sat in an exam room for 3 hours, focusing on a paper for ages until I felt as if my neck was going to break. It was a horrible exam. I am uncertain as to whether extra study would have helped, but seeing as how I performed so badly I feel as if I should have studied more. I guess I didn't realise how much I cared about this exam until I actually failed it. Whoops.

Well... I guess it'd be okay if everyone else I knew failed also. It's quite pitiful to resort to such thoughts as consolation. They don't really console me anyway. The sad thing is, I don't even fully understand why I'm upset. I have three reasons:
1. My parents are going to rage when the results are announced, and they are going to bitch to me for the rest of my life about how I could have been a doctor if I had studied instead of playing games.
2. Maybe deep down I really really wanted to make it in and now I'm sad that I blew my one and only chance.
3. I'm just pissed because I know other people have beaten me and I hate getting beaten.

What use is understanding other people, if you cannot even understand yourself?
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It's horribly late, and I feel as if the world is conspiring against me. Why the fuck do I have a psychology oral tomorrow? Why the fuck did I even do psychology this session? God fucking dammit. Orals are the worst. If this were an exam I'd just flunk it, but since it's an oral I don't want to embarrass myself. Goddamn.

I wish tomorrow were already over. I want to sleep already.

Night Before the UMAT

I guess I'll want to compare how I felt after the UMAT and how I felt prior to the UMAT. So uh, documenting my feelings now. To be honest I feel completely... calm. My rational self is freaking out: "YOU'RE SO UNDER-PREPARED YOU JUST FUCKED UP THE REST OF YOUR LIFE KISS IT GOODBYE ASSHOLE." I have no idea why my rational self would call me an asshole, but it totally just did. No, I do not have personality disorder, but I do feel like my self-conscious has soul of its own.

Then there's the rest of me, which currently has control over my body. Here I sit in front of the computer, typing calmly because I'm too tired to have an anxiety attack. It's rare that I ever feel so... serene. I'm writing a few words for my psychology oral here and there- I guess I'll have to pull an all-nighter to finish it off for Thursday. How horribly unpleasant. The one-day extension doesn't do me much good.

I look through my drawers, scrambling everything in it hunting for a pencil. I finally find one, along with a sharpener. As I sharpen the pencil my rational self speaks again, "you might want to bring more than one pencil to an exam that's worth more to your parents than you are." I contemplate this for a little, and I decide to find another pencil. Pulling out an old pencil case covered in dust, I manage to procure another. Along with an eraser, too. Sweet.

Then I distract myself with my psychology assignment again- an assignment for which I have to evaluate the merits and flaws of Asian parenting and Western parenting. Of course the terms "Asian" and "Western" are applied loosely here, you can't over-generalize based on the culture, but it's the majority representation. I had fun looking at videos which discuss Asian parents from a rather comical perspective, though I am surprised by the negativity of the internet towards Asian parents. I read a little about the whole "Tiger Mom" thing that's rather controversial- here's the link if you're interested. http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748704111504576059713528698754.html

I know I should relax and whatnot... but I already feel so relaxed... seeing as how my psychology is due on Thursday, not doing any research now seems almost... sinful. A part of me wish I had never taken psychology this session. It's killing me.


Eh, here, watch the video I've already watched 5 times over. It's a good distraction. 

Reflections

Ever had that weird moment, where all of a sudden you find yourself in a different time frame and you think to yourself, "what the fuck am I doing?" Eh, that's how I feel anyway. I was reading Madame Bovary, an English text I was suppose to have finished eons ago. I was beginning to despair today, as I still had roughly half the book to go. I had resolved to read what I can, and I was rewarded by the discovery that at least 1/3 of the book was composed of essays and various comments about the book. Knowing that the end was near, I had eagerly devoured each line with my eyes, skimming over the frivolous descriptions of various people and things. You cannot imagine my relief as I read the last line- I thought the ending was rather sad. Yeah, I suppose that's not a very acceptable comment in academic terms; I cannot imagine telling my teacher "I thought ending was rather sad."

Speaking of teachers, I'm starting to feel a little sorry for my psychology teacher. Despite being fascinated by the subject, I'm not paying much attention in class. I accept any given information blindly, not bothering to work my brain into an analysis or to think critically. I guess it was just... too much effort. I'm going to fail the class, I'm quite aware of that. After my zero input of effort... it can't end too well. I rushed a report the night before it was due, and I've been falling asleep in class after the first week...

And being the fortunate person I am, I seem to have stumbled upon a responsible teacher who legitimately cares for his students. The look of concern and disappointment he shot at me worries me a little, as it betrays the expectations he might have had of me- and I feel guilty, to put it plainly. However, it does not mean I'll start putting in effort now- I have no talent for the subject, despite my liking for it. I just feel rather uncomfortable when I receive sympathy due to being judged as a borderline failure. My over-inflated ego screams at me: "SHOW HIM WHAT YOU CAN DO. SMASH THE FINALS WITH A 90+" but the rest of me is feeling so tired and withdrawn I wish I could abandon school altogether.

I feel like going on a trip or something. I'd like to drive with a bunch of friends down to the beach- any beach, as long as it's not one of those beaches where there are "more dead birds than there are grains of sand", as described by a friend of mine. It'd be nice, sitting in a car for a couple of hours, appreciating the scenery and blasting loud music like the obnoxious teenagers we are.

I wish my life had a fast-forward button. I could use a holiday.

Day before school

Spent the day rather productively, to my surprise. Well, "productively" as my parents would have it. Did some maths, prepared for UMAT. Blergh. I actually... don't mind the questions. It just seems stupid when your career depends on Sudoku-esque questions.

I wish it were all binary Sudoku

Anyway, school starts tomorrow. It hasn't been a holiday- it just feels like a dreadful weekend. Well, only 6 weeks of studying to go, I guess. Then 2 weeks of exams. After that I have another holiday. 6 weeks isn't that bad... I think. I'd like to play games again. Though I guess if I fail this UMAT thing I won't have the courage to play games in the presence of my parents ever again. They will insist that the sole reason I have failed was due to too much gaming. Argh.

Well... I better not fail then.

After all, no use being depressed before I've even failed anything. Two days of pre-failure happiness, here I come.

Old Friend

Totally ignoring my mother's wish for me to keep all interaction with people outside the family to a minimum, I caught up with a friend who I haven't talked to in a long time. We updated each other on our lives, and after I had finished bitching to him about everyone and everything, his turn came.

"Women are so complicated," he started.
"What makes you say that?"
"Because they just have these random mood swings outta nowhere, and people say PMS but PMS does not occur everyday. I just don't understand."
"Maybe you're just retarded," I offered unhelpfully. Typical response from me.
"As if you're any better than I am."
"Sure I am. Do you know the 3 words a girl wants to hear the most?"
"No."
"Take a guess."
"I love you."
"Awww, I love you too."
"-_-"
"The correct answer is: you lost weight."


Then we joked about how people like me are entirely responsible for the growing problem of girls with eating disorders and poor self-image. I suppose that's true- given my perfect beautiful body, I'm sure it's not just the girls who are jealous. What, I'm twisting his words? What else could he possibly mean?

This world would be boring without me.

The rest of our conversation led nowhere, as I refused to cooperate and made bad jokes at every turn. He forgave me.

...I guess even when life is miserable, there's always something (or rather, someone) who can make you smile.

A conversation with my mother

I am almost certain that a prerequisite skill to to becoming a parent is knowing how to make your kid feel like shit, at all times. My mother has decided that she had finally had enough of my horrible attitude towards everyone and everything these holidays, and decided to talk to me. Oh the dread.

“Is it because you dropped IB?” was her first guess (IB's that diploma program which I decided I had no use for ages ago) Now the correct answer to her question is NO. My school life has only gotten better since, but yes, that was when I started finding Dad particularly irritable, because he continued to prod me with comments like, "XXX managed to finish it. How come you can't? Reckon you can still get a 99 now that you've dropped out?" I must have said "yes" to shut him up.

So her second guess was to ask me whether I had a romantic interest. "Hah, I wish." My sarcasm was lost on her. "Oh, so they don't like you back then?"  OMFG. Thank you for misunderstanding me so completely. So I explained to her in simple terms that no, I wasn't concerned with trivialities such as "love". Then she went into that annoying state which most women tend to enter when they stumble upon an unknown fact: she tried very hard to ask me what I was troubled with. Now the real answer was "YOU", but I didn't want to break the peace I so carefully maintained. So I said something dodgy like "I don't want to tell you." Well that couldn't be more true.

Then she's like "okay, fine if you don't tell me I won't ask, but I want you to completely forget about it". From her tone I gathered that she didn't buy the "I am not in love" explanation, and is now probably assuming that I am playing the role of Juliet (ie about to fake my own death and cause some drama) in some sort of teenage love story.  FML.

I wished I could escape, but noooo, she continued to go on and on and on. Something about how I don't interact with the family enough, how I don't tell them anything and how they have to ask me, and I give rude replies. I know I give rude replies. I wouldn't act that way to anyone else. They just contain some magical power of inciting my inner rudeness which is generally controlled. I guess it's even worse because they are my parents, but FFS I really hate being me right now. Yeah yeah having my kind of parents isn't the worst thing in the world, I could be so much worse off--- you know what? I don't agree with that kind of bullshit view.

Saying that I could be worse off doesn't mean anything. That's not how things are. Yes, it could be worse, and I may be in greater agony than I currently am. Does that mean I should be grateful for my current state? NO. Just because I have not yet sunk to a deeper level of unhappiness does not mean I will accept my current misery.

Back to my conversation with my mother. Apparently the whole reason Dad started "helping" me with UMAT was because she asked him to. Since I had such trouble doing it myself, they'd decided, they'd force me to do some every night by having Dad in my room. OH GEE THANKS, I'M SURE THAT WAS USEFUL. One thing I do not appreciate are these forced acts of kindness, giving me concern when I have no desire for any. I wish I hadn't honestly told her, at that point, that they were the greatest distractions ever, because then she ranted about how she never asked me to help with chores anymore and blah blah blah.

...I sound like an ungrateful jerk, don't I?

See I'd be feeling much more guilty if she didn't say that having me around was like keeping a dog or a pig. Yeah there's my worth, like a dog or a pig. Great choice of words. All because I don't "interact with family". Has she ever thought about why I don't interact with family? I like how she had never considered that she could be someone contributing to my agitated state. You know what? I find it difficult to communicate when people bark at me on the dinner table, asking me repetitiously, day after day, which classes I've had at school. And I'd say something if it didn't erupt into an argument afterwards.

Mum's defense against that was: "well everyone can have their own opinion, you'll just have to convince us through your words." ...When she puts it like that, it's as if we had civilized discussions instead of emotional outbursts where I am once again told what a lucky yet horribly ungrateful, unappreciative and disrespectful child I am.

Then Mum took a turn and delved into how I'm not trying hard enough in school, because everyone, absolutely every fucking one of the people she knew had a kid whose university entrance score was 99+. WELL I'M SORRY THAT MINE'S CURRENTLY AT A PITIFUL 98- OH WAIT, I'M NOT SORRY AT ALL. The conversation inevitably leads to how I play too many games and how if I had spent all that time studying I would have finished by now- true, but I'd kill myself before that happened.

"I'm not saying that you have to study every single waking minute you have," ---oh look, she's trying to sound reasonable here. BULLSHIT. That is what she's saying. "But I just don't want you to play games or talk to your friends when you have time off. You can play the flute, watch the TV, read or something."
"Are you essentially saying that you don't want me to have any social interactions?"
"Yes. I want you to stop talking to your friends, completely."

...
...
...
...Okay, that was unexpected. I was being a smartass and I thought--- yeah  I thought wrong. Never mind. Why haven't I ingrained it into my head, that my psychological health and emotional stability is none of their concern? I guess you could say that from the way she asked me what was troubling me, she's showing how she cares for me. Yeah, I understand that. From a logical, rational perspective. But my inner voice is crying at me to go throw myself in front of some on-coming vehicle because FUCK LIFE.

Way to grab the moral high-ground- now she's the caring parent who is concerned with her rebellious teenage kid. Because I obviously don't know any better, right, and since I have nothing I want to be I should have an university entrance score of 99+ because I will suddenly want to enter some magical course which only accepts people with a score of 99+. Apparently not only does she want me to go to med school, I'm supposed to go to a good med school. Being able to pick the course isn't enough, I must pick the uni.

I'm now thinking that maybe she should invest all her efforts into my sister- I'm a lost cause. I'm obviously beyond all hope and there's nothing she can do to curb my rebellious tendencies. It's a shame I turned out to be such a disappointment.

...The above paragraph is sarcasm.

Well, at least now I know how inadequate I appear in my parents eyes. I'm soooo glad we had that conversation. SUCH REVELATIONS. Fucking fantastic.

My life is a black void.

Mountain Climbing Without Hammy

Okay, so one of my friend insists that it wasn't mountain climbing: "mountain climbing is vertical- all you did was walk up a mountain." Fine, bitch, MOUNTAIN WALKING. Whatever. The point is- I MADE IT TO THE TOP. Sure it might not seem like much- people were running up and down that shit. BUT IT WAS ME. I, WHO DESPISE EXERCISE AND NATURE, just climbed a mountain--- which is like exercise and nature combined.

I went with one of my best friends (see left silhouette) and left another one of best friends (Hammy) behind. He sounded like he would have liked to come, but we went without him because it was for the greater good.On the way up we made constant complaints to each other about how our feet were sore and we were out of breath- and it didn't occur to us until we had finished the whole mountain climbing thing that we were complaining about being out of breath whilst we were out of breath. Life is easier if you complain about things. My legs still hurt.

On the way up I suggested that we carry a stick- to break spider webs and stuff. We decided on taking these more "adventurous" routes, which meant that we walked on muddy rocky steep surfaces as opposed to the proper path laid out for us. So anyway, we decided to name the stick.
"Sticky!" we said in synchrony.  Then we commented on our originality. I must have referred to the stick as a "he" during the conversation, because my friend said, "oh, is it a he now?"
"Yeah, why would you name a girl Sticky?" I asked rhetorically.

Then I made some crude joke about boys and sticks. Heh. I proceeded to ask my friend what the stick would be named if it was a girl.
"Sticker... Stickerine." my friend suggested.

...Get it? Stick-er-ine? Oh the wittiness.

It was a day well spent- we had fun climbing a mountain that would have taken us far less effort, if we were fitter. I acted like an Asian tourist and insisted on taking a photo every 10 minutes. The weather was perfect, the temperature was perfect, and the whole experience wasn't even that bad. Except for the part where my legs hurt. That was bad. In fact my legs hurt for the entire duration of the exercise. But that aside, it was fun.

...Not that I'll ever want to climb that thing again.

Here's a typical Asian-tourist picture

PvP

The worst feeling in life? Getting pwnt by noobs in PvP. When you know they're worse than you, but then somehow you end up losing anyway. I don't know wtf is wrong with me, but somehow I just end up choosing the worst PvP character possible in every fucking game. Maybe it's due to my preference for the better-looking characters as opposed to consideration for their actual skill and class. 

WHOO RED HAIR LET'S PICK THIS GUY.

I remember choosing a swordsman back in my earliest MMO. I had read far too many Chinese novels about kung fu to be interested in anything else apart from swordsman. So it really sucked when the swordsman class had the worst PvP set out of all classes- and that healers were in fact the best at PvP, because they could poison the shit out of you and then guard infinitely. Guard was an action which was hax in that game- normal damage in the 10-thousands, and when you use guard you take less than 30dmg. Not to mention how healers can heal themselves. Then the game got a re-balance: the swordsman class had a skill which could OHKO almost anything. The downside? The skill was learnt at lv100. I was like, lv46, and I thought I'd hit my maximum capacity. I'm not a big fan of grinding.

It's ironic now that I say that, because the next MMO I played was full of grinding. This time I played an English version, and I decided to go with the mage class, because when you hit your 4th class change (Archmage) you look pretty fucking hot. Then I started on my long journey- to no where. The mage class was the worst fucking class possible. Now mage usually means massive AoE (area of effect) damage, long range, low HP and defense. This game had all that--- EXCEPT THE DAMAGE WASN'T EVEN THAT HIGH. The stupid fucking monsters can be attracted towards you based on how much damage you've done to them and how far you are away from them--- then they run towards you. Literally, run. Movement speed insane. So if you randomly cast an AoE move, you pull 5 monsters towards you- no, the AoE is not strong enough to kill them, and you don't have enough mana to cast more spells to kill them. Why? Because the skill cool down system is stupid as hell. The monsters take out your HP faster than you can spam potions to heal yourself. Given the horrible game, I don't know how I got to lv96 (3rd class, Archmage at lv131). 

The current MMO I play- great fun- but once again I chose the worst class possible. I went back to the swordsman class- but I saw that it branched out- and I could wield both sword and magic. So I thought to myself: OH COOL and went with that. Little did I know that I just stumbled on the worst PvP class. Again. It's not that you can't PvP with this class- it's just hard. For every other class you can just spam a key or use a cheap-skill. Not for this class. For some reason, the combo chain of this class is long as hell, and it's a pain to execute. What I'm saying is--- I just get pwnt. 

Sure, I could blame it on my own lack of skill--- but fuck that. I'm the best.

Washing Dishes

Washing dishes- pretty common thing to do. Our household washes them every day. I don't know the reason, then, that my parents make such a big fuss out of it. They pass on the chore like it's a time bomb. "IT'S YOUR TURN TO WASH THE DISHES TONIGHT," they'd remind me. Which is fine, of course. I don't mind washing the dishes- in fact, I wouldn't care if I had to wash them every night. The only thing which pisses me off, however, is the way my Mum says it, and the expression she wears whilst saying so.

Now you all probably think I'm making a big fuss out of nothing- does it matter how something is said? Who cares if her expression was disagreeable? Well to be honest with you, expression and tone is one of the main ways I communicate. My friends can call me a faggot and the smile on their face and the tone in which they say it will let me know that they're joking. So when my own mother taunts and sneers at me to do the dishes--- a giant bubble of "WTF" just builds up inside me. Was it really necessary to do that?

So God forgive me if I roll my eyes and she blows up like a nuke.

My roommate, understanding that dishes are just another trivial aspect of life- washes the dishes for me every so often. He did that for me today. Dad stormed into my room afterwards, once again barging through my poor door, and yells at me, "WHY DON'T YOU WANT TO DO THE DISHES." Infuriated, I yell back, "OKAY, I'LL DO THEM NOW."
"WHAT'S THE POINT, YOU SAY THAT WHEN [my roommate] HAS ALREADY WASHED MOST OF THEM."

...Well what's the point in all this yelling then, if he's already done them?

Later, my roommate talks to me about my parents, and he laughs at their reactions. "Did you see her?" he'd crack up, referring to the expression my mother wore. See, I'm not the only one. But whilst I do agree with him that my parents are a little...uh, expressive, at times, it was still horribly embarrassing to have someone point that out. Even if my roommate is a good friend of mine. It got worse as he told me about this time, when he began to wash the dishes, and my Dad physically pulled him away from the sink, went to my room and told me to come out and wash the dishes.

See, the main reason I end up not doing the dishes is because I don't stay at the table for long enough. You can't wash anything if people are still eating, right? As a rule I try to finish my meal as fast as possible, then I try to retreat back into my room. Why? Because it minimizes contact and interaction with my parents. Sure, I'm side-stepping the problem and avoiding them isn't going to solve anything- but I've outgrown my earlier naivete, thinking that talking will make things better. Heh, can you imagine, I once thought that my parents would be reasonable and talk to me. No, Mum just gets overly emotional about everything I say, starting to raise her voice to an unbearable pitch whilst Dad laughs at all my comments dismissively.

....Anyway, I've stuck a sign on my door, saying "knock before you enter." I wonder what the consequences of that will be. Oh, I'm not hoping for it to have any positive effect- if anything it'll probably enrage my parents- they'll say things like THIS IS MY HOUSE I GO WHERE I WANT YOU'RE MY CHILD WHY DO YOU NEED PRIVACY WHAT YOU MIGHT BE CHANGING WELL I WIPED YOUR ASS WHEN YOU WERE A KID AND THERE'S NOTHING I HAVEN'T SEEN. But what am I supposed to do? The sign's worth a try--- it can't get much worse than it is now.

I don't blame the dishes, to be honest. Stuff like this is bound to happen, given the people involved. If it's not dishes it'll be something else. This is just... what things are like.

By the way- did I mention that we have a dish washer?

One that works, in fact. Uses less water than we do through hand-washing the dishes.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGH

There is a point of complete and utter frustration where you just want  to tell the world "leave me, the fuck, alone." I need one day- one fucking day, without work, without parents. As unlikely as it seems, I have done some sort of work for every fucking day since the holiday started. And I hate it. I needed a break after the whole school, assignments and exam thing, but my parents disagree. I have work due first week back, which pretty much means I need to get it done during the holidays. This is why I despise over-the-holiday assignments. It'd be fine if I had an actual holiday- meaning that I had the actual time to do it. But no, I fucking don't, because when I'm not sleeping or too tired to work my parents seize that opportunity to bother me.

Now with his best intentions, Dad barges into my room every night, trying to make me prepare for my med entrance exams. I don't know how many times I've told him to knock, but common courtesy is lost in all parent-child relationships, it seems. So I'm sure it's okay when I yell at him to “KNOCK BEFORE YOU ENTER AND WHEN YOU LEAVE CLOSE THE GODDAMN DOOR.” Now, the door thing aside- he realises that I find my exam preparations a boring process- so he has most delightfully offered to do them with me. While I flip through the practise questions, trying to figure out the solution to an answer, he would shout, "IT'S C IT'S C, THE ANSWER IS C." Then I'd ask him why, and he would say, "because this option is the one that has the least in common compared to all the other answers." I do not think it is possible to accurately describe the utter agony I felt at that particular moment.

I try to explain that just because one option is different to all the others, it does not mean that it is the correct answer. "IT'S A THEN, CHOOSE A." Once again, I ask for an explanation. "WELL IF IT'S NOT C IT HAS TO BE A," he said. Exasperated, I tell him that intuition is not necessarily the most reliable thing in a multiple-choice exam, and that I never said C was not the correct answer. Now Dad has a bit of temper himself, so he asks me to choose an answer- and being the honest person I am, I admit that I don't know.

"BUT WHAT CAN YOU DO IF YOU DON'T KNOW THE RIGHT ANSWER, YOU JUST HAVE TO GUESS AND GO WITH IT." he says condescendingly--- now, whilst that could be an option, you could also work the bloody thing out. So I tell him that. "BUT LOOK AT THE TIME, YOU DON'T HAVE LONG ENOUGH TO DO IT YOU'RE JUST GOING TO HAVE TO GUESS."

Oh for fuck's sake- the reason I practise prior to the exam is so that I can figure out the answer when I'm not under pressure or time constraint. Then I can get better and work on my speed. I don't know why such a simple thing is incomprehensible to Dad. By then I've lost all patience- and I'd award myself a medal if I could, for holding my temper for that long.  My score is a pathetic 8/15- roughly 50% correct. Ouch. Dad, not missing a single opportunity to make me feel like crap, starts to tell me how I'm going to fail my exams, fail to get into med school and fail life overall.

Then we have an extensive argument about why I don't really give a shit about med school anyway (I guess I'm sort of lying here, trying to cover up for my own failure)- and I told myself that even if I did make it I'd be a psychiatrist and not a heart surgeon like he wanted. However I don't want to tread on that front again. He'd just tell me how psychiatrists are all insane.

I'm already insane from these stupid arguments anyway.

At one point I challenged him to the same set of questions I did for exam preparations- if he can get more than 8/15, I'll curb my ill-temper and pay him some respect. That was his one chance at making me less irritated- my tolerance meter increases to near-infinity when someone who is legitimately smarter than me tries to lecture me on something. Too bad he fucked it up and got 4/15. Exactly half of my score. I now feel justified in hating the world every time he tries to "help" me with these questions.

...So last night, we went to a friend's house for dinner. She asked me what I wanted to be. It was tempting to reply with "I don't know," since it is easier to tell the truth. Instead I told her I wanted to be a lawyer, because that appears to be the only other respectable occupation in the Asian community, apart from being a doctor. I want to be a lawyer as much as I want to be a doctor as much as I want to be almost everything else. Is it such a crime to have no real decision? The family friend then talked to Dad about how she expected me to be a doctor like Dad, and how it's like a genetic thing to follow in your father's footsteps etc. I'm a little skeptical about the genetic linkage relating to career choice there. I would have thought that was more of a cultural thing.

Perhaps next time someone asked me what I wanted to be, I'll come up with something creative. I still remember my list of childhood dreams: I had wanted to be an artist, a scientist and an archaeologist. Those dreams are pretty much dead- artists don't make enough, I now find science boring--- and though I am still fascinated by archaeology, I don't think I can stand to be away from civilisation for long.

I'd once said that my biggest dream was to be the owner of a massive brothel. Though not very respectable in society's eyes... it sounds far more attractive than any of the options I currently have.

Complete and Utter Sloth

I'm pretty sure sloth is one of the Seven Deadly Sins- and I guess I'm glad I'm not Christian, otherwise I'd be crying over how I've got my one-way ticket to hell. I slept late again last night, doing I don't even know what. My alarm woke me inconsiderately at 8am, and I almost slumped straight back down til it was 10am, when my mother decided to wake me. The amount of will-power it took for me to leave my dreams was incredible. My bed offered me warmth and comfort- the darkness of my blankets attempted to lure me back to a deep slumber. Then was the rest of my room, a frozen abyss with light which pierced my eyes.

And all you can think of is OH GOD WHY

So I compromised and sat in my bed, half-awake, and read my English text which I was supposed to have finished two weeks ago. I like the novel, except when there is a deadline to finish the text it diminishes the pleasure of reading considerably. When I got bored (which was not too long after I had picked up the novel), I started rolling around in bed, unable to settle yet unable to climb out. So I reached for my phone and started playing Temple Run. Maybe not the wisest choice.

After dying for the nth time, I gave up and left bed. I wrapped a coat around me and rolled onto my beanbag, which is less than 20cm away from my bed. I started to do some work, but work is generally ineffective when you decide you rather roll around on your beanbag than concentrate. Maybe it's a sign of stress or something, but I have been distracted all morning- and it is now afternoon. Even as I write I gaze out the window, watching the washing sway with the wind, and wondering whether I should go out for a jog. Yes, a jog- the idea seems rather inviting.

...Alternatively, I could roll back on to bed and play on my phone. Die more times in Temple Run.

I'm far too distracted to write.

Circus

A circus arrived in the "city" I live in recently. I had no idea why they'd come to a place like this- people were scarce, there was no activity- dullness drifted in the air. Or perhaps this was the circus' idea of a perfect market- entertainment was scarce, too- maybe they had hoped to profit by being the sole attraction.

I felt little inclination to visit the circus- I think I would have liked to, a few years ago. It would feel a little pathetic, grasping for the ideal childhood when I had legally left my own behind less than a month ago. Despite my slight unwillingness, my mother had decided that both my sister and I should go and see the show. I listened in exasperation as she continued to complain about the ticket price, and explained to her that I was no longer amused by the idea of a circus. She obviously mistook my sincere confessions for a use of reverse psychology- and purchased two tickets as soon as she could. She lamented how she had misplaced one of the discount offers, else she would have saved another two dollars.

Though I appreciate her efforts of financial management, and how she wishes to indulge her children... I must say that there is something awkward about wanting to spoil your children and yet lacking the monetary capacity to do so. Reminds me of the time the family went out to dinner for my 18th- how Dad complained about the price of the food as we were paying the bill. I guess that was far worse.

I had a pleasant time at the circus, I suppose. I saw nothing extraordinary- and my sister seemed as uninterested as I was. It would be too disrespectful to say that the show was boring, it was just.. unexciting. The circus was a rather basic one- it had all the performances you'd expect, but nothing high-grade. Juggling, ropes, animals- the usual. Except the juggler stuffed up almost every single juggling trick he performed- and the most he juggled was 5 balls. Not that it's something I can accomplish myself, but by circus standards, I thought it was rather poor. The animals were cute enough- I think they were mules. They had 3 mules, and I think they were supposed to jump over these hurdles- and the 3rd mule always ran around the hurdle while the other two jumped over. This is probably due to poor training, but I found it rather comedic. They had dogs, too- the dogs stood and rolled over etc- but they were rather unattractive dogs.

No jumping tigers though

The highlight of the show for me was this performance of acrobatics, where a girl hoisted herself into the air using a dangling net, and demonstrated various tricks. Not that the tricks were particularly memorable- but the girl was hot. She was like a cross between Megan Fox and Olivia Wilde- except dressed in tights (where her back was revealed and there was a gash near her chest) and doing splits in midair, using a net. The inappropriateness of my thoughts struck me as I realised I was surrounded by a crowd of small children- but I soon consoled myself, because I'm sure some of the parents would share my opinion. We are human, after all.

Kinda like that^, except with a net

And now I'm starting to think that I wouldn't mind going to see more circuses, if every circus had an acrobat as good looking as her.

More complaints about the weather

I had planned mountain-climbing expedition a couple of days ago, following some very daring advice from someone whose words I perhaps follow a little too literally. The event was to take place yesterday- however, it rained like a bitch. Already being the world's greatest un-enthusiast when it comes to mountain climbing (nature + exercise = worst combo), I simply could not fathom trudging my way up and down the muddy slopes of a mountain, hearing the squelching of water in my shoes and having speckles of yellowy muddy water splash onto my clothes. This is the point where most people will call me a sissy- but at least I'm not drenched in mud.

...Though I must say there is something rather attractive in the image of muddy adventurers. Maybe if I wanted to demonstrate the extent of my masculinity I'll go roll around with the pigs and see whether I look like a combat veteran afterwards.

So then I got up this morning (late morning, but it was still morning- so I'm technically improving), and BAM, perfect mountain-climbing weather. The Sun was out, a few puffy white clouds drifted in the clear blue sky, and there was even a cool breeze. IT FELT LIKE SUMMER. Too bad it was already late morning. If the trip had been planned for today... oh stupid weather, why do you thwart my plans. Then again... I suppose the tracks would still be muddy, since there was a thunderstorm last night.

We'll see if it gets any better on Monday. If it rains again, I'll just take it as divine intervention.

The essence of a holiday

You know you're stressed when you wish for a holiday whilst on holiday. It's as if the beginning of these holidays were the beginning of a different sort of dread. My workload is ongoing- I see no end. My parents are still nagging me to go to med school, insisting that since I don't know what I really want to be, I might as well be a doctor. Last night, Dad finally considered the possibility that I might fail my med school entrance exams. He then recommended a double degree in law and accounting.

...This expression suits me^

Is it strange to take interest into account, when it comes to deciding a career path? There must be some sort of repercussion, going into a job you like only marginally better than being homeless. It's strange to think of my future so bleakly, when I could technically be anything I want. I have so many opportunities, so many skills... I'm good at whatever I do- a talent that is enough to make me the subject of envy of many others. Perhaps it is because I could achieve almost anything... that I am indecisive. 

Maybe if I had a bit of time to myself, I'll sort it all out. I know that's wishful thinking. Mum and Dad haven't left me alone since the holiday started. I remember how I used to long for weekends- now I hate weekends. "Holidays" are worse than school days. At least at school there are people who make me happy- being trapped at home with my parents is just pure suffering. 

Going out seems to be the obvious solution, but after my parents' reaction to me having a little fun around the time of my own birthday... I have no wish of going anywhere. 

Hmm... If I could be anywhere in the world right now... I'd like to be somewhere in the northern hemisphere, near a beach. I could sip a glass of cool fruit juice while resting beneath a palm tree, reading a novel I've never had the time to read. That would be a holiday. 

Healthy Lifestyle

They say that the key to maintaining a healthy lifestyle is to eat well, sleep well and exercise. I despise exercise- probably due to my awkward body control and the fact that I've lost every single sports game I've ever played in. Coaches like to say that there is no such thing as a one-man-team; you cannot expect to win a match due to the efforts of a single person- but you sure as hell can lose a match due to one. I've proven that true time and time again, when I was forced to join a team in physical education class. It's like my team was down 2 players- I was so bad I might as well have been playing for the other team. Now that I've escaped the awkwardness of my high school years, I sure as hell don't want any reminders of those.

As for sleeping well- heh, I do sleep well- every Friday and Saturday. I go on a weekly cycle, where I sleep for 8 hours on Sunday and Monday night, then 7, 6, or 5 for the next couple of days - hit Friday and Saturday- then I sleep for a good 11-12. Now, that's a normal week. On those really, really nasty weeks when I have assessment I get something like 3-4 hours on a good night, and 0-2 hours on a bad one. Despite knowing that my irregular sleeping habit is detrimental to my health (not from science reports, but from my personal experiences), I continue to do so because I've decided that it is what I choose to sacrifice in the grades, sleep and social life dilemma.  

As for eating- I decide to go on a diet roughly once every day, always after dinner, when I feel like I can go without eating for a week. Then it gets to midnight, and I think to myself, "man I'm really hungry," so I go out, grab some food and forget completely about my diet plans until after dinner the next day, when I'm bloated again. Then I remark to myself once again about how much I eat and how fat I'm going to become, and make diet resolution ver. 5.0.6. It never lasts. I keep on telling myself that it will, that I'll change the next day- but it just doesn't happen. 

Well, another 5 months and I'll be out of college. Another 5 months and then I will be reborn. Maybe we can give this "healthy lifestyle" thing a try then.

Sharing Phones

Despite having a nice expensive smartphone, I do not have access to it at all times. My Dad pays for the plan which has infinite calls and infinite texts- and I have to share my mobile phone with him as a consequence. It's rather annoying, when you get accustomed to having a phone, but then you must live without it for a whole day. Dad goes to Sydney roughly once a week- I lose access to my phone once a week, for a whole day. It's a dreadful feeling--- it's like... doing the 40 hour famine once a week (40 hour famine is a charity event where you go without something (food, technology, speech etc.) for 40 hours and get people to sponsor you).

However, that is not the worst part.

Seeing as how the phone is mine for the majority of the time, I install a bunch of things on there that my father would probably frown upon. Most of the time, I don't bother deleting them, because Dad wouldn't know how to find them, since he doesn't know how to use my phone properly. The main problem is the texts. Sometimes people send me private texts, and when he has the phone, he WILL read any new messages he receives. I have no idea whether he goes through my older texts- but seeing as how he hasn't raged at me about that yet, I assume he hasn't.

See, Dad isn't badass enough to pull out a shotgun and hunt down whoever sent that message- no- instead he'll just rage at me because goddammit everything is my fault- even inflation and global warming.

I have no way of warning people when my Dad will be in possession of my phone. He takes it away with him when he has to go to Sydney, but sometimes he takes it with him when he has to go other places. I can't exactly tell him to get his own phone, either- he is paying the full fees for this one. Technically I'm getting the better end of the deal.

My friends don't really send me the most appropriate texts ever. Sometimes I'm scared of telling people that my Dad has my phone. Given the level of maturity most of friend possess, I would not be surprised if they sent a million images of penises to my phone whilst Dad had it. Ergh, I can only imagine the awkwardness. Then Dad and I would have that stupid conversation once again about how I hang around bad people and make the worst friends. Oh lord.

...Maybe I should consider buying another smartphone. With my own money. I'll just relinquish what I have right now to Dad...

Post-Eighteen Stress Disorder

I don't really understand the significance of turning 18. "More responsibilities, legal rights, voting- all that stuff. But best of all - going clubbing and drinking til you get smashed." I guess it's what most people look forward to. Not me. I've tried alcohol before the age of 18- mostly at dinner parties. I've had my share of beer and wine- and I don't know the names, because all I can taste is the scent of alcohol- and I see no point in differentiation. If I had to choose, I would prefer wine- but the after-taste reminds me of the scent of methylated spirits in hospitals. I have no intention of going clubbing- they say you can "get wild" at a club- but I don't understand how loud music, alcohol and dancing could possibly make a good time. I hate loud music- it damages my hearing. I don't even dance- and I think most people look stupid when they do.

I don't feel any different compared to when I was 17. It's a wonder, how the passing of days suddenly make you an adult. The responsibilities are rather unwelcoming- I now pay for my own bus fares, buy my own lunch and wash my own clothes. The frustrating thing is when my parents decide I'm old enough to do all the house work, but not old enough to take care of my own studies. As a result they constantly remind me of the work I have. Why can't they see--- if I had no motivation, if I had no concern for my own future and no self-regulation, I would be out pumping my body with illicit substances and escaping this world. I would not be stressed about being merely one standard deviation above the average in my chemistry exam. I... could be happier.

They say parents will always see their child as a child- but I beg to differ. It seems that I become an adult when it is convenient for them, but I am always too young and inexperienced otherwise. As a result I am always in a state of rage and confusion, suffering the responsibility of being 18 and enjoying none of the privileges. My workload from school is still crushing- but I'm considering finding a job because of my increased spending. If I only had to worry about pocket money, it would be fine- but with the extra fees I may not may not make it to the end of the year. I suppose I could cut down on spending my money on useless items- but of course I'd rather not.

I am already dreading the expenses of university. Rent, bills- everything. Now my parents are forcing me to study for my medical entrance exams. Won-der-ful. I wonder what will happen if I don't make it- they will be disappointed (not that I give a fuck about their disappointment anymore)- but more likely angry. In fact, they probably won't let it go for the rest of my life. I can imagine, at every dinner afterwards: "You could have made hundreds of thousands per year. You could've been a doctor. You'd be respected where ever you go, instead of being what you are now."

...Oh lord, what I would give to escape that conversation. ...Maybe I should just not visit. Call as infrequently as possible. Give it a good 3 or 4 years before I come home. Let it cool off for a while.

...And after saying all that, I'm going to study for my medical entrance exams anyway.

Politics

Now I'm taking pains to fill in the paper work to vote at the next election. I'd rather not vote if I could. I'm quite certain my attitude would disgust a substantial amount of people- whilst other countries are struggling for a democratic government, I decide I'd rather not vote. Classic first world problem. Well, paperwork is always a pain, and I'd hate to have to drive out to where ever just to place a vote into the ballot box. Thought they say every vote counts- it all matters- I am quite sure mine will be meaningless due to my utter ignorance of politics. I can name the prime minister and the opposition leader- and very few others. 

However, those are not the names which appear on the ballot paper- and I have little knowledge or concern for the local representatives. Now that I think about it- I will most likely rank my vote in terms of attractiveness, if pictures are shown. If not, it will be in order of a visually and phonetically pleasing name.

Oh, I can imagine the fury the above statements will attract- but they are perfectly honest. In my opinion, I am much better than those who pretend they know about politics and economics and talk about such things all day without ever having read or thought about it. Regurgitating information from the media about how the carbon tax fucked us all and how the government is screwing us over isn't considered political knowledge, right? I bet half the people who go on and on about the carbon tax doesn't even understand how "tax" works. It is even likely that my attitude corresponds to that of the majority- who cares, when you're living in the centre of the first world? We are so complacent, after all.

Then there are the politicians- would  they rank national welfare above self-interest? Everyone thinks they could- but if there is anything I learnt from my study of morality, it's that saying what you would do and actually doing it are two completely different things. I tell myself that I would try to save a complete stranger in event of danger, but if such circumstances were to occur, I would secure my own safety, then those who I care about. Placing a stranger's life in front of my own is something of a fantasy to me.

...I digress. The point is, I am thinking too hard about the flaws of a democratic system. Not that I have no appreciation for equality... I do like how the way this country is run- and I suppose this is the best way to go about it. So being the good legal adult I am, I'm going to finish filling my paper work and cast my vote at the next election.

...As an after thought: if the entire world consisted of people like myself- I guess the political leader of every country would be a K-Pop star or an Asian drama actor. Wouldn't that be wonderful?