Only 16 posts this September? This is a new low for me except for the time I was on holiday in China for most of last July (?).
My mother has potentially the most boring job. Okay, it's not the most boring job but she likes to talk about it. Fine. But when she won't stop talking about it, I have to restrain myself from telling her, "Mum, have you ever thought about starting a diary?" Because, honestly, I have no feels towards her job. Do I want to talk about how idiot one of her cases is, boring shit about builders and decking and shire approvals? OR do I want to discuss An Idiot Abroad, Tall Men and How Angry I Am That My Brother Is In The US?
That's right. He is in DC now and I'm mad. I told him to buy me snack cakes like 50 times the night he left (Friday night/early Saturday morning, if you recall). Additionally, he had layovers in LA, New York and Dallas.
I FEEL LIKE HE HAS TRAVELLED THE ENTIRE GLOBE IN THE TIME I HAVE LEARNT HOW TO PULL SPAGHETTI OUT OF MY NOSE.
He doesn't appreciate the fact that he is likely walking the same pathways that Selena Gomez did. Or appreciate the fact that basically all of my favourite bloggers live in New York (okay, Boston but close enough). OR THE FACT HE COULD GO SEE CRAIG FERGUSON.
He doesn't even give a shit. He's all, "Ugh, this is shit." It's all part of his moral superiority, you see. He is going to a "conference" where SIFE clubs from across the world present the shit they did and they pick a winner etc. etc. He hates it and thinks it's just people showing off when the whole point of the club is to help poor people and shit. Which is good. I admire it.
BUT THINK ABOUT THE TWINKIES.
J
About Me
- Junaberry
- I'm a student from Australia who used to have a lot of time on her hands but doesn't have that much anymore. Now she has other stuff on her hands.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Last Night
Last night, around 3am, my parents left to drop my brother off at the airport. I stayed home because I was lazy/tired. Inevitably however, I woke up as they were getting ready to go. I dozed off and then woke up again at around 3.45am. Things started to hit the fan.
When I was younger, I used to have the worst nighttime paranoia. Every night was a struggle to go to sleep and I would wake my mum up constantly because I was scared. Exposure to SVU (har har... no, seriously) before I went to bed would make it worse.
With age, I began to be able to ignore sounds in the night. If I concentrate on them, I'll freak out but if I force myself to believe it's nothing (which it always has been) then I can go to sleep.
Last night, however, being home alone, I was freaking. And that's when I heard the most horrible sound of all; I swear I heard someone rattling the security screen on our front door. I swear it to you. Like someone was trying to break in or gauge whether anyone was awake (either so they could kill them or slip in without being noticed).
I got out of bed. My heart felt like it was going to explode. I grabbed my phone, keys, torch (I know...) and turned off the kitchen light so noone could see inside from outside. I peered through the front lounge windows. I could see nothing. I debated turning on the porch light on as this might scare them away.
But then I thought of all the Criminal Minds episodes I had watched. And I thought of Alfred, the butler, saying, "Some men just want to watch the world burn." And then I thought about Jill Meagher. And I became convinced that if I turned the porch light on, whoever was outside would know someone was home and puttering around. They would break in and kill/rape me.
Safe to say that noone was outside. Still, I stood by my front door with my phone, keys and torch for 1.5 hours, listening to every sound, waiting for my parents to get home.
When it hit 5.20am, the sun was beginning to rise ever so slightly. My parents were still not back. I felt it safe, however, to return to bed as I was sure that noone would break into a house at 5.20am when early risers are rising and salt-of-the-earth type blokes are heading off for the coal mines and what have you.
I went to bed. So ended another night of losing my mind. This happens regularly. More when I was little but still, a little too regularly for a girl of nearly 20.
J
When I was younger, I used to have the worst nighttime paranoia. Every night was a struggle to go to sleep and I would wake my mum up constantly because I was scared. Exposure to SVU (har har... no, seriously) before I went to bed would make it worse.
With age, I began to be able to ignore sounds in the night. If I concentrate on them, I'll freak out but if I force myself to believe it's nothing (which it always has been) then I can go to sleep.
Last night, however, being home alone, I was freaking. And that's when I heard the most horrible sound of all; I swear I heard someone rattling the security screen on our front door. I swear it to you. Like someone was trying to break in or gauge whether anyone was awake (either so they could kill them or slip in without being noticed).
I got out of bed. My heart felt like it was going to explode. I grabbed my phone, keys, torch (I know...) and turned off the kitchen light so noone could see inside from outside. I peered through the front lounge windows. I could see nothing. I debated turning on the porch light on as this might scare them away.
But then I thought of all the Criminal Minds episodes I had watched. And I thought of Alfred, the butler, saying, "Some men just want to watch the world burn." And then I thought about Jill Meagher. And I became convinced that if I turned the porch light on, whoever was outside would know someone was home and puttering around. They would break in and kill/rape me.
Safe to say that noone was outside. Still, I stood by my front door with my phone, keys and torch for 1.5 hours, listening to every sound, waiting for my parents to get home.
When it hit 5.20am, the sun was beginning to rise ever so slightly. My parents were still not back. I felt it safe, however, to return to bed as I was sure that noone would break into a house at 5.20am when early risers are rising and salt-of-the-earth type blokes are heading off for the coal mines and what have you.
I went to bed. So ended another night of losing my mind. This happens regularly. More when I was little but still, a little too regularly for a girl of nearly 20.
J
Thursday, September 27, 2012
An Idiot Abroad - A Review in The Guardian
I just keep watching this, staring at Steve. I used to think he was godforsakingly ugly. I don't know if I have matured or if he's generally just gotten a lot more attractive. I keep seeing this happening; homely looking guys blossoming into gorgeous men. I don't even mean kids; I mean 20+ year olds. Then BOOM, one day. Gorgeous. Gives me hope, it does.
Maybe it's just amazing what a nice haircut, some facial hair and better clothes can do for an average looking guy. I swear, plaid is the best print in the whole blardy world.
J
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
An Open Letter to Someone
Dear Someone,
I miss you and I don't even know you. For all I know, 10 years after I marry you I will find out you're a serial killer/rapist like that Stephen King novel/Claremont rapist (was it Claremont? Or was it Claremont train station? Or do I just associate Claremont with all shit things in Perth?).
I'm just thinking out loud here but consider this: I'm, for the most part, a prickly pear. People have difficulty seeing past the persona I project (slightly gloomy, unfriendly and severe). Maybe you have or maybe you were paid to marry me (like 10 Things I Hate About You... if that's the case, I'll take Heath). Regardless, thanks because, as Tina Fey would say, now I have someone to help me if I'm choking on the microwave meal I'm eating on a Typical Tuesday Night listening to the Kind of Music you don't like (inevitably, we end up in a fight about how annoying I am with my annoying music and then you kick me out of our cockroach-infested apartment and I resort to prostituting myself to support my cocaine habit/unborn child. By the way, it's yours. The cocaine, that is. The unborn child belongs to this guy named, Steve. Yeah, Steve. I met him on the comedy circuit. God, I could just climb him for hours. Literally. And I still wouldn't hit the summit... Depending on what you consider the "summit" if you know what I mean. Wink wink wink wink).
So, I went off on a tangent there, Someone. Forgive me.
The point is, I was just thinking just then how nice it would be to have Someone. On the other hand, I like to think that boredom is an insult to myself. So wanting a relationship (Someone) is an insult to myself. I can be romantic with myself (heh, masturbation joke. But no) and I consider it an insult to myself to even crave for a second having a romantic partner (to be fair, I'm in a strange stage in my luteal phase).
To be frank, Someone, the only thing I'll ever use you for is your spermage. The plan is to have as many kids as I have dogs. And God knows I love dogs. It's kind of just a back-up plan in case the zombie apocalypse hits so my dogs will have a temporary food source (joke in bad taste/unfunny/gross. I still enjoy it. But kidding, my kids will be like my children. Sorry, did I say kids? I meant dogs. No, kids. I hope no authorities ever read this post).
To conclude this post of GREAT AND TERRIBLE VULNERABILITY (I feel like Libba Bray is a very apt name for an author. It's like Library... but not): Dear Someone, come soon. Because for the last three days I've been eating leftovers and it would be really nice to have an excuse to cook for Someone else.
Love you (maybe not. Could be an abusive relationship... but I consider that an insult to myself),
J
I miss you and I don't even know you. For all I know, 10 years after I marry you I will find out you're a serial killer/rapist like that Stephen King novel/Claremont rapist (was it Claremont? Or was it Claremont train station? Or do I just associate Claremont with all shit things in Perth?).
I'm just thinking out loud here but consider this: I'm, for the most part, a prickly pear. People have difficulty seeing past the persona I project (slightly gloomy, unfriendly and severe). Maybe you have or maybe you were paid to marry me (like 10 Things I Hate About You... if that's the case, I'll take Heath). Regardless, thanks because, as Tina Fey would say, now I have someone to help me if I'm choking on the microwave meal I'm eating on a Typical Tuesday Night listening to the Kind of Music you don't like (inevitably, we end up in a fight about how annoying I am with my annoying music and then you kick me out of our cockroach-infested apartment and I resort to prostituting myself to support my cocaine habit/unborn child. By the way, it's yours. The cocaine, that is. The unborn child belongs to this guy named, Steve. Yeah, Steve. I met him on the comedy circuit. God, I could just climb him for hours. Literally. And I still wouldn't hit the summit... Depending on what you consider the "summit" if you know what I mean. Wink wink wink wink).
So, I went off on a tangent there, Someone. Forgive me.
The point is, I was just thinking just then how nice it would be to have Someone. On the other hand, I like to think that boredom is an insult to myself. So wanting a relationship (Someone) is an insult to myself. I can be romantic with myself (heh, masturbation joke. But no) and I consider it an insult to myself to even crave for a second having a romantic partner (to be fair, I'm in a strange stage in my luteal phase).
To be frank, Someone, the only thing I'll ever use you for is your spermage. The plan is to have as many kids as I have dogs. And God knows I love dogs. It's kind of just a back-up plan in case the zombie apocalypse hits so my dogs will have a temporary food source (joke in bad taste/unfunny/gross. I still enjoy it. But kidding, my kids will be like my children. Sorry, did I say kids? I meant dogs. No, kids. I hope no authorities ever read this post).
To conclude this post of GREAT AND TERRIBLE VULNERABILITY (I feel like Libba Bray is a very apt name for an author. It's like Library... but not): Dear Someone, come soon. Because for the last three days I've been eating leftovers and it would be really nice to have an excuse to cook for Someone else.
Love you (maybe not. Could be an abusive relationship... but I consider that an insult to myself),
J
A Downy Run
I haven't been committing properly to this blog as of late for a number of reasons, primarily laziness but also for a lack of interesting occurrences in my life. Regardless:
1. This blog post is dedicated to Caitlyn because I promised her one like two weeks ago and never delivered. You're welcome.
2. I have become even more obsessed with Steve Merchant. As well as Karl and Ricky but more so Steve than anyone else. I want to climb him.
3. I have changed my mind re: Canada and have decided I am destined to live in the UK/England one day. I think I will fit in there, don't you? Plus... Steve Merchant, The Kooks, home of Jane Austen, Cary Elwes, Shakespeare, English countryside, bicycles, pubs not filled with bogans. Really, the list of reasons for my migration there is endless. Endless!
That's pretty much all for now. I've just been studying. Went shopping in the city with mother yesterday. Little was bought. I've been eating a lot.
J
1. This blog post is dedicated to Caitlyn because I promised her one like two weeks ago and never delivered. You're welcome.
2. I have become even more obsessed with Steve Merchant. As well as Karl and Ricky but more so Steve than anyone else. I want to climb him.
3. I have changed my mind re: Canada and have decided I am destined to live in the UK/England one day. I think I will fit in there, don't you? Plus... Steve Merchant, The Kooks, home of Jane Austen, Cary Elwes, Shakespeare, English countryside, bicycles, pubs not filled with bogans. Really, the list of reasons for my migration there is endless. Endless!
That's pretty much all for now. I've just been studying. Went shopping in the city with mother yesterday. Little was bought. I've been eating a lot.
J
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
The Feels
This is fucking perfect:
http://ryanseacrest.com/2012/09/24/listen-to-taylor-swifts-new-single-begin-again-audio/
This should have been your first single from Red, Taylor.
I'm getting "Cold As You" and "Teardrops on my Guitar" vibes from this but it's also very new and more sophisticated and mature than her older stuff. It's pretty much an amalgamation of perfection. I love the blugrassy twang. I love that it's country (ish).
I loved "Mean" but at the same time... It was almost comical-country. There was too much of that country whine whereas "Begin Again" sounds less like a caricature of country and more like Taylor-country.
J
http://ryanseacrest.com/2012/09/24/listen-to-taylor-swifts-new-single-begin-again-audio/
This should have been your first single from Red, Taylor.
I'm getting "Cold As You" and "Teardrops on my Guitar" vibes from this but it's also very new and more sophisticated and mature than her older stuff. It's pretty much an amalgamation of perfection. I love the blugrassy twang. I love that it's country (ish).
I loved "Mean" but at the same time... It was almost comical-country. There was too much of that country whine whereas "Begin Again" sounds less like a caricature of country and more like Taylor-country.
J
Sunday, September 23, 2012
And Now, For My Most Unsightly Crush Yet
Steve Merchant.
I was going to write "ugly" but I didn't think that was just. Steve's not "ugly," per se. He's just a little odd looking. Even still, he has a cute, bizarre thing about him that's attractive. Maybe it's just in comparison to Ricky Gervais and Karl Pilkington that he looks half decent:
With the scruff and the nerdy-hipster glasses and the decent clothes. I adore him on Extras because of how purely idiot he is in it but oh dear Lord is he unattractive in it:
Oh Steve. A tall, leggy blond. Just the way I like them.
J
I was going to write "ugly" but I didn't think that was just. Steve's not "ugly," per se. He's just a little odd looking. Even still, he has a cute, bizarre thing about him that's attractive. Maybe it's just in comparison to Ricky Gervais and Karl Pilkington that he looks half decent:
With the scruff and the nerdy-hipster glasses and the decent clothes. I adore him on Extras because of how purely idiot he is in it but oh dear Lord is he unattractive in it:
Oh Steve. A tall, leggy blond. Just the way I like them.
J
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Thinking Again; Then Lecture
Thinking first, lecture second. Because I don't think during lectures. I just transcribe what the lecturer is saying onto my Word doc.
I have been listening to Little Dragon again. Little Mishelle gave me some songs a few months ago. My appreciation of them has slowly built up over the last month or so. My favourite is "Scribbled Paper." It's sultry.
I have been thinking about adventures. Again. My favourite picture book when I was a kid (or series of books, I should say) was the Brambley Hedge books by Jill Barklem. I think they instilled my ardour for adventure in me.
I have been reading The Tenant of Wildfell Hall. I have been thinking about what sort of maudlin life the Bronte sisters lived. All of their books are dreary and depressing yet fabulous. They probably had stinky hair.
I have been stealing bites out of my brother's Connoiseur cookies and cream ice-cream (take that, Little Mishelle). He knows. He leaves for Washington Saturday after next (or is it next Saturday?). I told him to buy me some Hostess snack cakes. He told me he couldn't be bothered because then he'd have to go through customs. I was upset and wouldn't lend him $20 for petrol. I think that showed him.
I have been writing notes for NS200 and wondering if it's even worth it.
Yesterday, I said hi to someone and they looked at me like I was a freak. My social anxiety has come back to plague me. Now I never want to say hi to anyone ever again.
J
I have been listening to Little Dragon again. Little Mishelle gave me some songs a few months ago. My appreciation of them has slowly built up over the last month or so. My favourite is "Scribbled Paper." It's sultry.
I have been thinking about adventures. Again. My favourite picture book when I was a kid (or series of books, I should say) was the Brambley Hedge books by Jill Barklem. I think they instilled my ardour for adventure in me.
I have been reading The Tenant of Wildfell Hall. I have been thinking about what sort of maudlin life the Bronte sisters lived. All of their books are dreary and depressing yet fabulous. They probably had stinky hair.
I have been stealing bites out of my brother's Connoiseur cookies and cream ice-cream (take that, Little Mishelle). He knows. He leaves for Washington Saturday after next (or is it next Saturday?). I told him to buy me some Hostess snack cakes. He told me he couldn't be bothered because then he'd have to go through customs. I was upset and wouldn't lend him $20 for petrol. I think that showed him.
I have been writing notes for NS200 and wondering if it's even worth it.
Yesterday, I said hi to someone and they looked at me like I was a freak. My social anxiety has come back to plague me. Now I never want to say hi to anyone ever again.
J
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Thoughts on Boys and Nights
I recently realized the main reason I tend to refrain from becoming friends with boys or being friendly with boys is because I'm scared they'll think I like them. Case in point: Indian guy in my FCP tute who I met on the first day of uni (ever) but have never really become friends with. We're friendly and all but I refrain from being friends with him. Why? In case he thinks, "Good God, what can I do to shake this girl? She's half in love with me."
This is even more applicable with boys I actually am attracted to. I will go OUT of my way to avoid them and not make eye-contact and only give half-smiles when they say something funny.
So, I pulled my first all-nighter last night. And by all-nighter, I mean I finished my assignment at midnight then went to bed. That's still pretty extreme for me. I've never stayed up past 10pm to do work. I feel sort of accomplished now, like I'm a real uni student. It is punctuated by the shame of the fact this assignment is due on Monday... but I wanted to get it done with.
I have to go study now. Judge away.
J
This is even more applicable with boys I actually am attracted to. I will go OUT of my way to avoid them and not make eye-contact and only give half-smiles when they say something funny.
So, I pulled my first all-nighter last night. And by all-nighter, I mean I finished my assignment at midnight then went to bed. That's still pretty extreme for me. I've never stayed up past 10pm to do work. I feel sort of accomplished now, like I'm a real uni student. It is punctuated by the shame of the fact this assignment is due on Monday... but I wanted to get it done with.
I have to go study now. Judge away.
J
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