RL Slime

It started off like any other day. 6am jog (I know; I'm amazing), two breakfasts, write up lecture notes. Then my new manager called and asked me to come in an hour early to work. Fine, whatever. I want the money. Particularly because I just bought a $14.95 cardigan which has one sleeve significantly shorter than the other. I have no words to describe my dismay. I must return this monstrosity.

Back to my day. Fine, whatever. I want the money (just bringing you up to speed). I went in at 11am. Technically, I didn't sign in until 11.02am. This pains me greatly because I have never been late to work. In fact, I'm nearly always at least 10 minutes early. But I had to wait for my dad to get home to give me a lift there because my mum's car (which I usually use) was in an accident the other day.

In the CBD, while my brother was driving home, a Transperth bus rammed it from behind at a corner. I don't know how it happened (was not present). One of the back tires basically popped and apparently the suspension is all awry. There is also an unsightly dent in the back. Too add to it, when we called our insurance company to lodge a claim, they said Transperth would never admit liability and hence we would have to pay the $1000 excess. Even though it was clearly not our fault. I just have no words. I'm pretty pissed about this because, whilst riding the bus, I constantly see events where the buses are very close to a collision. I understand that buses are big, unwieldy vehicles with less control and take longer to brake but bus drivers also speed a lot and can be reckless. We will see where this road less travelled takes us.

Back to my day.

I got to work, signed in and was just minding my own business. Checking out like a mad dawg. Chatting with my friend. Gossiping about our new manager (apparently, he's a dick but he's nice to me). And then R comes up to the checkout.

Let me situate you.

INT. OFFICEWORKS. DAYTIME:

R: Hey! Did you see my message on your birthday card?

J: No, I haven't opened it yet! Why? What does it say?

R: No, read it later. I won't spoil the surprise. When was your birthday?

I mistakenly think he has wished me happy birthday.

J: Thanks!

There is a moment of awkward silence.

J: I mean... on Thursday.

R: Oh right. Oh, by the way... I have to tell you that I just failed at picking up with totally hot chick who just picked up her photos. There were like hundreds of her in a bikini and shit. Oh, my god. She was so hot. So I said that to get her photos she had go out with me. She laughed and said she had a boyfriend.

J: Oh, my God! Are you serious? Har har har.

R: I know! I have something to show you later (it's my dick in a box).

And then he walked off.

I have a few things to admit. Firstly, when he mentioned his birthday message, this weird and optimistic part of me thought it would read something like, "Hey, I really like you and think it's about time something happened. Here's my number: 0000 000 000. So, call me maybe! R." Instead, I opened my card at lunch (stupidly hopeful) and read this:

It was not what I hoped for but it was still cute. Especially because he was so excited for me to read it. He even asked me later if I'd read it and we laughed about it then I demanded $10. He did not give me $10. But later, he offered to shout me a Muzzbuzz as he was going to get himself one. I declined.

That's another thing about R. He never eats himself but if he ever goes out to get something, he offers to shout everyone. Everyone. Ugh, generosity is sexy. His stupid slouch is sexy. His sexy wannabe-hipster glasses are sexy (he is so far from hipster but he wears hipster glasses). His stupid fucking acne prone skin is sexy (IT'S SEXY BECAUSE IT'S LIKE WE CAN RELATE AND SHIT). THAT FUCKING SMILE. I CREAM MYSELF EVERY TIME.

Later, as we were closing up, R suddenly runs off as he's moving around some pallets. His buddy, K, says to me, "R never just runs off like that. Trust me, he's got something to show you. Seriously, prepare yourself." He said this to me like five times and I kept thinking, "PLEASE BE HIS DICK IN A BOX."

It was not.

There were some real dickish customers today and I didn't finish closing up until 5.20pm. Dear customers, please don't be assholes and come in at 5pm. Just don't do it. Just don't fucking do it. I hope you slip on a banana peel and fall in a pile of cow shit. You know what, mate? I don't get paid past 5pm so just don't do it. I will cut you.

As I was saying, R eventually runs back with this stupid smile on his face. This adorable, amazing, toothy grin. And he's holding an envelope of photos.

"Holy fucking shit," I say. "You didn't."
"HE DID!" says K.
"Oh, my God. DID YOU MAKE COPIES?" I practically scream. I'm disguising it with laughter and a shocked smile but inside, my heart is becoming a necrotic mess.
"Yes!" he says.
"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU DID THAT!" I say and bury my face in my hand.
"HOW CAN I CALL MYSELF A MAN IF I DON'T?"
"I don't even want to know what you're going to do with those," I said.
"I'm pretty sure that's illegal," says one of the other guys, M.

I walk off at this point. R yells bye to me. I respond then quickly turn my head to hide my tears. As I help print & copy cash up, I wonder to myself what this all means. I wonder why this keeps happening to me. I tend to like guys and I think that hell, there's a chance they like me back. Mostly because I serially choose fairly homely guys to like these days. It's a reflection on my self-esteem, to be honest. I feel (no, I know) I have no chance with a lot of guys. I try to choose guys I think I have a chance with to crush on. They're basically not even crushes anymore. They're sad little hopes.

So, why does this keep happening? I like a guy, I fall hard for him, sometimes my days and weeks revolve around him. He's a nice guy, decent looking, ticks my boxes. Then he doesn't like me. He doesn't even think about me. He doesn't even give me a second glance (or only if I've stepped in dog shit and am tracking it around the ground).

WHY DO I KEEP GETTING FRIENDZONED? Is my scent wrong? Do guys think I'm a lesbian? Am I not pretty enough? Is my heart too broken? I don't understand. And I'm so tired. I'm so tired of existing and pining and getting nothing in return. It's sincerely tiring.

So, that was today. As you can tell, I have many feelings about this day. Mixed feelings. Deep sadness and also have engaged in a lot of true laughter.

Things this day has taught me:

1. Well, at least he's straight.

2. At least he's single.

3. He's still got an adorable smile.

4. He's still generous.

5. He's nice to me.

6. He really likes bikini-clad women.

7. He's not afraid to ask girls out. Even hot ones.

8. This probably means that if he did like me, he would have asked me out by now. It probably also means I'm not his type because I've never worn a bikini in my entire life.

9. FUCK MY LIFE.

I won't be seeing him for the next few weeks as he is not on at the same time as me. It's probably good. I think I need a break from that mess.

J

Friendquesting Fail

End of a fairly shit week.

Friendquesting was a shitfest this week. There were so many times when I just felt so incompetent, out of place, unwanted and useless. I ate 50% of my lunches alone this week. On one day, I purposely ate lunch before my first class so that I could go to the library during lunch, knowing I wouldn't have anyone to hang with.

I'm trying to pump myself for next week but it's hard when you're not in the right mindset.

I have work tomorrow. Seeing my friends there (as well as R) is the only thing I'm looking forward to this weekend. Mostly because they don't know what a total loner I am there. And they're also forced to spend time with me.

In happier news, I'm coming to terms with the fact that I love the idea of study but I hate study itself.  I love having a beautiful, neat set of study notes, a fresh notebook, a gorgeous, smooth pen, an uncluttered desk and an open window in front of me.

That is, I love it all until I actually sit down in front of it and then I'm screwed. I was reading this: http://www.copyblogger.com/schwartz-copywriting-system/ I thought to myself, "That's all well and good... but I can comfortably sit and stare out my window for 20 minutes and not feel inclined to do my work instead." I can pretty much amuse myself for at least 20 minutes so the six rules this person cites do not apply to me.

This being said, the study environment I described above is pretty much the study environment I have right now. I love it and hate it at the same time as it is equally conducive to both study and daydreaming. And yes, I instgrammed the shit out of this picture:

J

Beware

Tomorrow, I turn 20 years old.

I just read on facebook that one of my lecturers from first year passed away last night from a long battle with cancer. I didn't even like this guy. In fact, almost 99% of the people in our year disliked this guy because he gave the most boring lectures on monkeys and was a bit rambley and the rest of it. I still feel such immeasurable sadness that he is gone. He was part of a very important part of my life and I think he was a great person regardless of his monotonic voice and weird fascinations with bonobos.

I remember emailing him about an essay we were doing and he replied within minutes. Even though I called him "Brendon" instead of his name, "Brenton." I remember how we used to call him BK in a slightly derogatory but endeared fashion. I remember how a bunch of us tried to walk out in between a double lecture (he was giving the second one...) and, just as we got to the exit, he walked in through the same door. There was an awkward stare down.

I think it sucks that people who have so much to give go before their time.

I've been exceptionally teary over the last few weeks. In fact, over the last few years. I never used to cry unless I was seriously upset. Now, everything gets me. I sit around and bawl my fucking eyes out over Criminal Minds. In the FCP tute a couple of days ago, there was a real life scenario about these sisters, both with cystic fibrosis. They were real people from some years ago. In the last slide, we found out that the younger sister died during her last-resort lung transplant when she was 18. I had been nominated to read aloud that slide and there was an awkward crack in my voice as I read it.

It just all fucking sucks.

I feel like I'm still coming to terms that a lot of us die before we get to old, old age. Sometimes, I feel like I'm still coming to terms that we die at all. I remember when I was in year three or four, I found myself near hysteria when I realized my parents would die some day. My mum said I shouldn't think about it, that they still had at least 30 years left. I think that made it worse. Suddenly, all I could think was, "30 YEARS ISN'T FUCKING ENOUGH."

It almost feels unfair that people we love so much have to be parted from us one day.

Sometimes, I wonder what the point of living is if we all just die anyway. Why do we bother with life when it's always filled with so much pain and loss?

I used to wonder this when I was in the middle of one of my bouts of misery/depression. And then a month later, I'd be all right again and having the time of my life. Maybe that's an exaggeration. I rarely have the time of my life but there are times when I'm so happy and filled with love. And then it becomes worth it again because there's nothing quite like having a good laugh or being with the people you love or enjoying a nice meal (I really had to add that in there...).

This blog post turned out to be a fair bit more depressing that I intended. What I was trying to say was that I'm grateful for every one of you who brings happiness to my life. 20 years isn't enough to fully appreciate what I've been given; a chance to know wonderful people and spend time with them. Even if I die tomorrow, I will have met so many great people and enjoyed a wonderful childhood with a loving family.

75, 80, 90, 100 years aren't enough but we make do with what we have. Everyday is still a treasure.

J

The Shits

Spending this morning trying to come up with mind tricks to remember the 500 bacteria we've been taught over the last two weeks (as well as listening to Little Mix repeatedly). So far I've come up with "shigella gives you the shits" and "botulinum, botany, botox."

I will do great things.

I've also been considering buying a velcro bumpit and spiral screw clips to achieve the perfect bun. I've been trying the sock bun again now that my hair is longer and have come to the conclusion that sock buns simply do not mesh well (in the voice of Viola Hastings) with Asian hair. Asian hair is the greatest bane of my existence (biggest exaggeration in the world... Ah, pun). Sock buns result in tangles and a fucking sock on my head.

Then I saw this tutorial of an Asian girl using a velcro bumpit and spiral screw clips to achieve the perfect bun and became inspired. Will you judge me if I start sporting velcro on my head? Surely that's better than having a sock in there.

I went for another jog this morning and can now comfortably jog five minutes. SHIT, I MIGHT AS WELL SIGN UP FOR A MARATHON RIGHT NOW.

J

What's Up, Hombre?

Nothing happened. I don't know why but sometimes, I sincerely think it will. It never does. I just want it to happen ONCE in my life (reality meeting my expectations).

I got into work. My first interaction was going over to ask him a question. He said something jokey to greet me but I didn't hear it (I think it might've been, "What's up, hombre?" or something to that effect). He was standing with his best friend at work, K (honestly, they are attached at the hip).I thought it was a good sign that when I was approaching, he kind of took charge  in addressing me instead of letting K do it. He just smiled this huge, gorgeous smile at me. He went to get the right ink cartridge I was after and then, as I was leaving, he asked, "So, how's POS (point of sale) going?"

It just tipped me over the edge because, in my head, that meant he cared or some shit. I know it's stupid because he doesn't feel the same way about me. I know this because I have this same relationship with a lot of guys (friendly, jokey) and saying something friendly and jokey like that doesn't mean shit. It just means you're being friendly and jokey. But when you're in my frame of mind, when you're looking forward to these interactions and your pulse is racing and you just want to lick his face, you interpret everything in this fucked up way. It's fucked up because you know deep down that it doesn't mean what you want it to mean and, in the end, you're just increasing your expectations.

Later, I went for my break and he and K were in the staff room. We talked about the election for a bit. He said to me, "Who'd you vote for? I bet it was the Australian Sex Party." I said, "Actually, I voted for the Australian Christian party." I don't even know if what I said was mildly witty or decent conversation because I couldn't deal with the fact that he'd just said "sex" in my vicinity and directed to me.

In my head, all I heard was, "SEX SEX SEX SEX." And I was saying to him, "YES, I WANT TO HAVE SEX SEX SEX SEX WITH YOU."

In my head.

We didn't really talk for the rest of the day. My heart hurts now because I just feel downtrodden. In the words of Taylor Swift, "I had so many dreams about you and me."

J

Complaining About Old People Complaining

Oh, my God. Old people complain about fucking everything.

There was an elderly couple standing behind me in the line to vote and they just complained for 20 minutes, non-stop. They complained about the number of pamphlets they'd received in the mail from the candidates, how many trees had been killed to print the flyers, the number of people who were handing out flyers at the polling place, the use of tax payers' money to fund the campaigns, how much the people working the polling place were getting paid. BLOODY EVERYTHING.

I BET IT WAS FUCKING MARGARET RYAN.

Margaret, just go home and keep writing idiot letters to the newspaper or play with your numerous cats or continue eating children behind your house. Honestly, no one even wants your stupid vote.

J

Skater Hater

I just spent 30 minutes talking fashion with a boy. Over facebook. I think you know who it is.

I hate petite Asian chicks because they are everything I am not (except for the Asian part). It does not help that half of my friends are petite Asian chicks with tiny, slender everything. I'm just hulking around like a big, giant hulk.

Sometimes I look at my mum and think to myself, "Why do I look like this? My mother is a petite Asian chick. IT IS MY RIGHT TO BE A PETITE ASIAN CHICK AS WELL." Instead, I'm one of those genetic mutants with broad shoulders and calves.

Okay, so many I'm just trying to avoid the fact that I eat too much. I think I may have even been a petite Asian chick at some point in my life (some time between birth and year seven). It's just that sometimes I hate my body so freaking much. I know all girls hate their body at some point. In fact, probably all of you are unhappy with your body right now. It's probably just that in our internal thoughts, we think we are justified in thinking we are fat and/or ugly (for some of unfortunate ones, it is "and").

Whilst writing this, I am secretly hating all of you that think you are justified in thinking you are fat and/or ugly.

I haven't fit into a size medium in a while. I still wear medium for looser tops but all fitted tops are now a definite large. I tried on a medium fitted peplum today (yes, my one true love) and I was sincerely busting out of it. There was some bulging flesh and it was just altogether horrendous.

The reason I have so much peplum is because my mother one told me it was flattering on me. There's not a lot of things that are flattering on me because my proportions are just ridiculous (big shoulders, reasonable bust, no hips/waist) so I have sunk my claws into this trend and am currently buying out the peplum market.

Sometimes I get conflicting advice. Little Mishelle once told me I looked nice in a skater dress (I remember because it made me so happy. Thanks, Little Mishelle). I have since accumulated roughly three casual skater dresses and two formal/going-out skater dresses. After purchasing my most recent, mother said to me, "You know, you look nice in the peplum with a tight fitted bottom but the dresses that go in at your waist..."

I nearly died.

Please, no pity comments.

J

Downtown

Shit that happened today:

1. Got to the city early today so I went shopping at Target (quickly becoming one of my favourite stores. Potentially, it will overtake K-mart which will be both a loss and a gain). Whenever I go to Target, I only ever seriously peruse the sales rack and the shoe section. I will occasionally look at the full-priced items but they are still out of my spending-league (unless I really, really love something. Like, with a sexual passion). Today, I bought a cute pair of DISCOUNTED black heels for $12.63. The reason I bought them is because they have a strap around the ankle which is ideal for me because, as I have mentioned before, I always walk straight out of my heels. This is not conducive to being sexy and suave (which kind of is the purpose of heels, no?).

They resemble these:

But the heel is like an inch higher and the backing part doesn't go as high. I have been searching high and low for a pair of black heels that will stay on my feet and have been wanting specifically for a pair of sexy Mary-Janes. All Mary-Janes I have seen so far have been fug as hell. Do not name your daughter Mary-Jane.

2. Consolidated friendship with Chloe, a girl in my FCP tute. I bumped into her at the meddent library and we studied together for a while (as in, within each others' proximity) before walking together to the lecture. It was great.

3. Had a lengthy chat with Chris (someone I haven't spoken to properly in a sincerely long time). It was a great conversation, mostly because he dropped one F-bomb and two S-bombs. I WAS MIGHTY IMPRESSED. For those who are unaware, Chris is of the religious nature and quite conservative in some regards. I don't mean conservative in his views (he may be, I don't know) but conservative in what he says. I have never heard him say crap, let alone shit or fuck.

It was fucking awesome. Of course, I called him out on it (in a joking manner) and we are both better off for it.

J

Nonsense

You know how I was being all introspective and self-damning and shit a couple of days ago regarding my fucked up attitude towards boy-men?

I take it all back. I'm working this Saturday and R's going to be on at the same time. I haven't seen him in two weeks or something completely ridiculous like that and I'm unhealthily looking forward to it. It's basically the only thing keeping me going these days. I just have fantasies of us being on lunch break at the same time when all of a sudden...

INT. OFFICEWORKS LUNCH ROOM. DAYTIME:

J: Oh, hi.

R: Hi. How are you? Haven't seen you in a while.

J: True, true. I went back to uni so it's been pretty hectic. How've you been?

R: Oh, good. Just chillin'.

I go to my locker to retrieve some asinine item. I hear footsteps behind me. It is R.

R: I've been meaning to ask...

J: YES?

R: I was just thinking...

J: YES?

R: What would you say if I asked you out?

His eyes are unsure and his posture slightly timid. This is not pathetic but rather attractive and endearing. I have also shamelessly stolen an integral plot point from Big Michelle and Kavin's ongoing love affair; the ask out. 

J: I would probably say yes.

R: Cool.

That's when things start borrowing events from (500) Days of Bummer (starring Zoe Deschanel). It's that scene when they're both photocopying stuff and they just start making out.

THAT'S WHAT HAPPENS NEXT (in this epic love story spanning many years and aisles of stationery).

The end.

J

Six Fifths

I had so many Friendquest 2013 wins today. Even though I come out of them feeling great about myself, I'm always exhausted. I think this just reinforces the fact that I'm truly an introvert. Being with people is pretty much always work for me.

This morning, I walked into my FCP tute to two people. I said, "Hi!" all disgustingly happy then sat down next to one of the popular girls in my year whom I've never talked to before. She was so nice and we talked comfortably until class began. At one point, she asked if I was a GEMP because she hadn't seen me before (this is both saddening and makes me happy because I have a fear people are judging me. It's better to not be noticed than to be judged, in my book). I said no and our conversation continued. Before I knew it, I had accepted a lift from her to med campus for the lecture that was straight after our tute.

Speaking of this lift, it turned out she was also giving a lift to a few of her friends. All part of that disgusting (but invariably nice and charming) popular clique. There were six people that needed to get into the car and only five seats. This was when it was suddenly decided that one of the guys would get in the boot (bear in my mind, this was a sincerely small car) and so he did. This was how we drove six people in a five-seater. It was amazing.

As I sat in that backseat, I observed the inner workings of this popular clique and realized they are not so different from the rest of us. As we waited at a traffic light, one of the guys (if you must know, it was Reece. My arch nemesis) said to his girlfriend (the driver and girl in my tute), "I always feel self-conscious when I walk in front of cars at the traffic lights. Like they're judging me. What if they think I walk funny?"

This warmed me to him; a guy I've pretty much had an irrational hatred for since my first day of uni.

At the end of the day, I went to my first Writers' meeting with one of my med acquaintances. They were an interesting, eccentric bunch. I tend to judge a book by its cover and thought maybe some of them were a little too eccentric for me and I wouldn't feel comfortable around them. But I think I'll give it a chance. The friend I went with said I should let her know when I was going to one so she could come with me. Later, she initiated an exchange of phone numbers whilst we rode the bus to the busport.

It was exquisite.

J