Just a heads up:
- I've declared a strike on town until uni starts. If I'm not working or at the gym, I won't be there (though there are obvious exceptions, birthdays and suchlike). If you want to see me in town, I can be found at Danny Doolan's on a Sunday night from about 10pm onwards :)
- I'm not avoiding everybody. I'm not being a snob. I'm just exhausted, and work is going through a busy patch.
- My grandmother (the last one left, the crazy one who cooks at 2am) had a fall and developed an arrythmia as a result of the shock. Apparently. I reckon she's just old, doctor guys. ANYWAY, Mum flew to SA this morning and I may follow at short notice.
Okay, stay well :)
Just a heads up:
21st was good. It had its issues but you were all there, so no need to go over that again. Thank you so much for all my lovely pressies! Glenn, my mum thinks the teacups are gorgeous.
Mostly I justed wanted to say thank you, and point out that I'm still alive, and getting my life sorted. I have these goal-type things that are just freaking me out, man.
AND in the most exciting news of the day, PostSecret has actually helped me with something. I use to (sometimes still do) bang my head on the pillow before I went to sleep, and I know a couple of other people that do it. Check it out, it's called "Rhythmic Movement Disorder". In less fantastic news, it's associated with autism. Which would make me lol, if I believed in that verb. Combine this with my tactile defensiveness and I'm just the next Rain Man, aren't I?
Be well :)
However, I am competitive. Some of you may remember me from such mishaps as Buzz - The Music Quiz and Singstar 80s. I think 3rd is a very admirable position to take for first time competition, but it'll be first next time.
Firstly, I work at a University, a general place of knowledge, and therefore an excellent source of general knowledge. In the ASC alone we have experts in the field of philosophy, media, history (Ancient, modern and NZ), politics, linguistics, stamp collection (...?), literature and random celebrity knowledge. It shouldn't be too hard to convince these scholarly minds to give up two hours of their week for such a noble cause.
Secondly, three of the ladies who work at the ASC have big tatas, while a fourth has amazing hair. This should count towards precious bonus points.
Thirdly, I'm not above drugging the other teams.
Oh yes, you shall be mine, precious bar tab...
If you were a purple satin purse, where would you be?
Yes, my 21st plans are powering ahead. Dress has been picked up. Hair is being cut and coloured tomorrow. Nails are being done next Wednesday. My shoes have been broken in. All that's left is the goddamn purple purse. And the music. And the food. At this rate, you guys may just have to starve.
Mostly, things are good. I'm definitely working too much, so I'm currently in talks to get two Sundays off every month. It may happen, it may not. In complete defiance of this optimism, however, I will soon be covering for the manager at the central city Schmascoes. This is exciting, as it gives me POWER. Slightly less exciting, though, would be any added responsibility from the role. However, one of our senior staff members is leaving us, and a good performance review means I'm thinking of putting my name in the hat for 3IC. I already have the role, as I open and close 4 days a week, but wouldn't mind the title.
I've finally cracked the job at the uni too. I'm being utterly immature, helpless and goofy, and it seems to be working very well. Less headaches, less feeling like a munt, general sense of well-being. I might just be able to stick it out.
Well, all this work drivel has been fun, hasn't it? We should do this more often. Really. Tell me about your job. Or, in some cases, your temporary lack thereof.
Yep. I'm just waiting for a CD to finish burning.
I've been working in customer service for too long as well. A friend just rang to invite me to go away for the weekend, and instead of asking "How are you?" when she said who it was, I said, "How can I help you today?"
That, my dears, is what we like to call a facepalm.
Oh, and, um, I invited my mum and her friends to my 21st. Oh noes :( But they'll only be there from 9.30-ish til the end of speeches. So please behave for like, 45 minutes, and don't hit on my mother.
Invites shall be winging their way towards you shortly. Winging, I say!
my 21st dress is miu miu
I DIDN'T REALISE HOW BIG A DEAL THIS ACTUALLY IS. PRAISE GOOGLE!
*runs off to Myspace to alert all and sundry*
So you know that thing on Explorer where you type a letter in a search bar and all the previous things you've typed in pops up, like searches and URLS and stuff? Well, I found my father's name at the top of a list. So I went to Google, and entered it.
I'm awesome at pretending like he doesn't exist. I think he hovers at work sometimes, but if you keep your back to the door for long enough he'll either move on or you'll realise he was never there. When I see old men in the city, I look twice. I wonder if I would recognise him. If he's lost weight, shaved his beard, if he's wearing a hat or if he's finally gotten truly old.
I Googled him and I shouldn't have. His name is everywhere, as if he were someone important. You read stories about men who appear out of nowhere, get married, have babies, and then go back to another nowhere, to the family they left behind there. They build new lives on top of secret, stale ones, and nobody knows who they really were - the man who left, the man who stayed, the man who went running back. My father's secret life isn't filled with unknown brothers and sisters and marriages and histories. It's just more of the lies he used to tell, but so much more complete.
da Vinci, the lazy wanker, developed a technique where he painted the dark background around his figures before he painted the figures themselves. He believed it gave the painting more depth - both physically, and, as a result of that, emotionally. You know, atmosphere (or, as the Italians would probably say, atmosphere-i). He has one or two famous unfinished works that make use of the technique, where all you see is this dark background that perfectly silhouettes a group of incomplete figures, blank spots of the canvas that suggest a presence nonetheless. That's what my father's lies were like. Now, on the other end of it, it's like I'm looking at the finished masterpiece.
I was told today that our manager at the Arts Students' Centre wants to do promo posters for all the student advisors. Um, no. I don't want my face up around uni, for a variety of reasons. Mostly because I'm super paranoid. Indigo just laughed and said that it wasn't a big deal, that everyone had them. I think he underestimated just how much I can dig in my heels on something.
Except for the part where he get me a rose. I am such a sucker for flowers. I almost didn't end it.