People really go crazy for Halloween here. But I think it's freaky and I like it a lot. I mean in Australia you'll go to a Halloween party and dress up, get drunk off some oddly coloured punch, and proceed to hook up with a blood covered 'sexy' nurse (or for the ladies a guy dressed as Tarzan or a shimmering vampire).The costumes are mostly handmade (because not many stores carry them, although that is increasing). There are no Jack O Lanterns, no one really decorates their houses... But you don't get those annoying children knocking on your doors, I mean can they not buy their own candy. Ok, maybe I'm just bitter because I never got to dress up as Pikachu and get a tonne of free lollies off strangers. Actually, I do think Australia should more fully embrace the festivities, it has to be one of the more fun and interesting holidays. Although, I think my parents would scream "Americanisation", but whatever.
So, it's been a few days since I've updated the world of fellow acne haters anonymous (AHA). My skin is overall clearing, although I had a bad day on Sunday. Three lovely pus-filled white heads greeted me on my right temple (I think it's caused by my hair), so naturally I irrationally responded and bursted those bastards. The red bumps are slowly fading. I'm really hoping this oxy facial cleanser is working and that it's not just the freezing weather that is clearing my skin. My seb derm is much better, I just have to keep on top of the selsun blue and moisturising and not become overly optimistic (which I have a tendency to do) and stop applying it daily.
So brief update on the girl. She really likes me BUT she loves her boyfriend. Which is something I already knew. I guess I have defined the relationship (DTR'd), which is good, because it's something I haven't done in the past, and something that has screwed me over a bit. So, overall I feel more clear on our relationship, which is cool. Even though I want more.
My skin is clearing, the weather is fining, I almost feel like singing ding dong the witch is dead. Almost. But I won't put you through that. That would hurt. You'd stop being my friend. And let's face it, your life would become infinitely less cool because of it.
So, this is awkward, what do I talk about? Since this is essentially a blog about organ irregularities I'm going to talk to you about some of my other organs. My large intestine... nah
I'll talk about something I can't really talk about with anyone else at the moment (mostly because a lot of my close friends live too far away). That's right, some juicy gossip. I think like this girl, She's pretty cute, blondy brown hair, a nice smile and very clear skin. We get along really well, we even kind of dirty dance together when we're drunk. But and here's the but, she has a boyfriend... in another country... a long-term one. Can you say Dayum.
I'll leave you with a song that we danced together to at a halloween party. That was one fun night.
My favourite part is the synchronised 90s Eurotrash dancing. Brilliant!
So I think my dermatitis is improving. It's moved from the painful red stage to the really flaky stage. I'm pretty convinced that I'm so hot right now. Half my face is flaking off and the other half is an oil rig. My beard has dandruff which a coworker tried to pick off me this morning, maybe thinking it was food or something. Dear God! I mean Scarlett Johansson will you marry me?
My forehead is still really oily and I have two big fat pimples on the right hand side. They're gloriously red. Thank Zeus I have an emo -ish fringe (by emo-ish I simply mean black and a fringe, emo was so 2006) to keep it somewhat hidden.
I must keep up the regimen, I must keep up the regimen. My skin will clear, my skin will clear. Doesn't this sound wonderful?! Speak and the universe will make it happen right? I love to hate New Age spiritualists. But then so does everyone. But it doesn't matter, they're so one and centred in the universe that they don't notice anyway.
Love, peace and good vibes out.
So my skin is still painful. I definitely think it's this very cold, very dry air that is causing a dermatitis break out, and my lack of a regimen that caused my mild acne to resurge. So plan of attack:
1. Oxy Emergency facial wash: (twice daily) I read some really good things about oxy washes in the review section so I'll give it a whirl.
2. Selsun Blue: (once daily) This generally keeps my dermatitis at bay, but I wasn't perfectly consistent with it in the last couple of weeks, so I'm going to try.
3. Eucerin:(twice daily) I think I'm in love with this stuff. It soothes and it moisturises. Not too thick and not too thin. Brilliant!
On the positive side I've seen snow falling. This is my first time, a true snow virgin no more, but does it really have to be this painstakingly freezing to produce it. How do people survive here?! What is wrong with them? That is all.
All I can say is fuck! Sore! Red! Flaky! Yuck! So I move to this place called Canada, which is cool, except for their strange obsession with terrible franchise coffee, but anyhoo my skin decides to kill itself. I get it, I moved from somewhere that practically has the opposite climate. Humid, to dry, hot to cold. But does my skin really have to react this way?! What was once clear is now covered in horrible red flaky parts. What was once smooth is now covered in those raised bumps that this website is dedicated to.My face is constantly in this irritated pain, itchy and dry. I'm really hoping that a thorough commitment to my old regime will be effective. Here goes everything!
I'm feeling pretty super fly these days. My skin is fairly clear. Thanks to the good dose of sun and sea that I had when I went home, I just have to keep up the Selsun because I know the seb derm is just lurking below my darker skin tone. But that's nothing to whinge about. I also have gone back to Dan's Treatment. I think I was fooling myself believing that Oxy was somehow better, it irritated my skin too much (mostly because it was 5%) and it didn't seem to clear it as well, it was also that irksome whitish colour and fiendishly thick. I think I just hate the thought of paying what the product is worth for the postage, but considering it's quality and quantity it should end up cheaper than those little pharmaceutical tubes.
I'm also feeling a little happier with my life right now. It's always good to go home and touch base to remind yourself how terrible it would be to still live with your parents (jokes, jokes), and I caught up with one of my old favourite friends who still lives around. I've also had an informal chat with an HR Director in Canada, and will have an interview this Wednesday, providing he still doesn't have SARS the flu. So I guess I can see the light, the clear skinned, perfect complexion reflecting off my soon to be white face - light. Canada will probably be in August, post-graduation and for 6 months. Thank God the government throws money at us poor poor students, it means I can afford things like plane tickets.
This has been my anthem for the past couple of weeks, I don't know why, except that I'm addicted. The video is super creepy, so maybe just read on and ignore it. It reminds me of 2 summers ago, which is when I was surfing and having a lot of fun, but it's not in a bad way, I feel like I'm just kind of letting that stage go. It's going into the category of a fond memory, rather than a jaded and envied one that had confined me.
I've also been living with my other roommate (A-tar) and his gf, because she moved out of her place and our place is their halfway house until Chiang Mai, and Ka pun ka/krup are regulars in their vocabulary. But it has been pleasant, I think it offers a little more balance to the stoner kids and J-Dawg's bad moods. I'll be sad to see them go next week. I'm even sort of hesitant to start back at uni next week. More work, less workouts. My fist pumping and party hardy ways will have to cease until July. Such a thought pains me, but I'm kind of looking forward to catching up with uni friends and getting through my last semester. I'll miss seeing everyone at work though, as I go back to my scanty once a week shift and perpetual poverty. But it will be hope-filled poverty; exuberance for the goat's trail that wanders forward.
Welcome, my underlings, to the den of inequity, the red light district of Sodom, and the razor of underbelly. Now that I've got your attention. I have nothing interesting to share. Only that I have a chat (L'Arche word for interview) with the house coordinator for a place in Canada tomorrow morning. Oh and that I'm leaving to head home directly after. Excitement!
What else, you wonder? Well, my skin is clearing quite nicely, in the way that my mega pimple on my temple is slowly backing off. The seb derm is only just noticeable at the moment and all jawline pimples have faded. So I'm expecting plenty of compliments tomorrow about my skin. But I can't remember how good it looked a couple of months ago; so maybe I won't get that many. I can't be bothered to read back through my blog, but feel free to do so and update me.
I have also been exercising and dieting like a dog with rabies. Yes, it looks crazy and is hellishly ugly, but I feel better than ever. My energy levels are a lot higher, thanks to my healthy dose of protein and carbs. And I'm always sore, but satisfied, and just waiting for my puny muscles to man-up and become mountainous. The P90x program that I've been doing also has Ken Po and Yoga and something ridiculous called plyometrics. I must admit, I've never done Yoga - too much masculine pride - but I've been liking it. It's hard, but rewarding. The plyometrics rapes me. And the Ken Po makes me look like the most unco individual in existence (all arms flailing like that internet sensation the star wars kid), but that's OK because I'm in my lounge room. I'm hoping to have a relatively transformed figure in about another 2 months. If I can stick with this program (I've been doing it for a little over a month so far). So maybe I'll look better than Seth Cohen rake-like soon (more like Ryan).
Ho hum, you say. I also went to Incubus and ran into my .org friend. She was with some other friends and she got the privilege of meeting my favourite roommate and his girlfriend (J-Dawg). We talked briefly and caught buses in different directions.
I start uni in about 2 weeks, and for once I'm not particularly looking forward to it. Normally I'm dying for something to fill my endless summer hours, but this time I'm just content working and living and can't imagine suffering another semester. But I will. The last one, the coup de grace to my dual degree.
It's Valentine's Day and I should feel melodramatically single. But I don't. Honestly I just feel excited for tomorrow. Sure, it would be nice to spend my night with some hot Italian lover, but Danny DeVito was unavailable, and well I don't quite have the money. Because as I read in a GQ magazine in an article about some wonderful dating site where rich men can date young beautiful women, knowing full well that they're only in it for the money, "Money can buy love, like everything else", or so the CEO would have you believe.
Good night, lovers.
"What I have to do, I have to catch everybody if they start to go over the cliff — I mean if they're running and they don't look where they're going I have to come out from somewhere and catch them. That's all I'd do all day. I'd just be the catcher in the rye and all. I know it's crazy, but that's the only thing I'd really like to be. I know it's crazy." The Catcher in the Rye (Salinger)
I feel like blogging tonight.
I'm not sure why. I've had a stressful day. I feel like crap after not sleeping properly for two nights running, and I really should just crash out. But my mind says no. It insists that I tap away on my pristine keyboard (only because it's new) and talk or rather just think. Think, like, why did the church girl that I sort of considered a possibility never text me back? That's one of those things, I mean, even if you don't like a guy for goodness sake just text something back. It's just the civil thing to do. I'm not even sure why I'm considering her. I suppose because she's the opposite to me. Nice, excessively chatty, quirky, not like Kelly Osbourne quirky, more like Zooey Deschanel quirky. She's also obsessed with Japan, and loves acting and has the musical theme to Annie and perhaps even High School Musical on her iPod. I do think she's a little bit unreliable though, in the fun way (that I am not), so I shouldn't write her off completely.
Man, have you ever had hundreds of ants in your bedroom? I seem to have thousands. There's an actual shower drain hole in one corner of my bedroom, and I blame that for the added insects. I'm not exactly sure why I have the Catcher in the Rye quote - it simply suited my mood. I guess that's all I want, that one thing that I'd like to be. That one place where I'd be happy. That moment of realisation, of vision, of pure inspiration. But my life seems more complex than this simplistic metaphor. It's biblically vague; I'm surprised he wasn't annoyed by this, what exactly does a Catcher entail? How do you become one? But I suppose that's it, there is no one way to happiness or fulfilment. Merely a vision. A sort of hazy purpose that underlies and pushes the reality.
I'm sorry, I'm waffling... There's some cool news. I met a real .org person the other day, and it was one of the most surreal experiences I've ever had. And I must say, her rock collection is stunning. Ha ha, it ended in an awkward hug. Which is probably my fault; I'm not the hugging type, so I sort of half accept and half shun them. Truthfully I don't even much like hugging my parents. I have some weird personal space issues. It's true.
I'm really looking forward to Incubus on Friday. I have work from 10 - 2 4- sleepover tomorrow. So the only thing that is getting me through that mammoth shift is the thought of the sweet voice of Brandon, resonating between the heavy bass, kicking drums, and subtle DJing of the rest of the band.
I've been following a fairly strict twice a day regimen at the moment. Including Selsun for the seb derm, and some actual time outside, in the sun. And my skin is slowly clearing after the ginormous outbreak last week. I still have a nice juicy swollen one on my left temple. The rest are just red bumps. My seb derm patches are slowly getting smaller. They're flaking, which generally is a good sign. Speaking of which it is time for some night regimen and shut eye.
These are my confessions...yeah,
Just when I thought I could try everything I could try
My pharmacy I find some oxy and I'm ready to fly
These are my confessions
Dan I've changed BP and I don't know what to do
Guess I've got to give part 2 of my confessions
These are my confessions and I don't know what to do
If I'm gonna tell it then I've got to tell it all
Damn near cried when I made that BP call
I'm so throwed and I don't know what to do
But to give you part 2 of my confessions
That's right, I'm now using Oxy 5 vanishing cream. Mostly because it was on special. And my skin has been insane lately. Like 5 pimples on my forehead alone, a few around my lips, and several nasty ones around my jaw on my left side. There's also that pesky seb derm...Anyway, I'm trying to be very consistent and apply it twice daily. After using the Benzac Facewash. I'm also considering adding a tinted spf moisturiser, but I'm not too sure. Depending on how obvious said 'tinting' is. I think it'd look better than the inflamed, red and flaky mess my face has been lately. It's frustrating to be 23 and still have acne. I don't want to be so self-conscious and hyperaware of my skin all the time. I just want to be like most guys that presumably wash their face with water once a day. What a delight that would be! Sigh, maybe I should go to a doctor and get some sort of more permanent fix. It's just so expensive and I feel superficial even considering it. Damn, social conditioning, that says that men aren't supposed to care about their physical appearance and yet are supposed to resemble a Calvin Klein model, with a Barack Obama smile and Johnny Depp's complexion.
Anyway, what else is happening in my life. So much work. My first day off in two weeks will be this Saturday. Granted, my shifts are short, but it's still annoying having to go to work everyday. I've decided I'm going to head home for about another 5 days before I go back to uni at the end of February. Mostly because I won't see my family until Mid year if I don't go now. Weekend trips aren't really worth it. Unfortunately. I may try to go mid semester, but I have a feeling it's going to be a rather assignment intense and time consuming semester. And going home during the mid semester break made the latter half of my semester really painful last year.
Good news, I'm going to see one of my favourite bands in 10 days. Incubus live will be amazing. And it was my Christmas present. Incubus was probably my second true alternative music love in high school. After the RHCPs. So if I become like a screaming girl and throw my t-shirt at them, just don't act surprised.
It's been a pleasure, truly, now off to Neverland!
So today is the Australian equivalent of Independence Day; sort-of. We celebrate the date of our country's establishment, or rather the day the Monarchy landed upon the shores of Terra Australis and proclaimed it for the taking and trashing of The King, in alleged replacement of the inconvenient loss of prisoner dumping ground 101 the US colonies. So as usual we celebrated with beer, the Hottest 100 countdown, and BBQed meats. Sadly due to the lack of sun, and an actual flat large place to put the pool we didn't really swim. But all the other ingredients were there. I may have even attempted to drunkenly dance to Brother by Matt Corby (my selected song). Even though I hate dancing in front of people (yes, even inebriated) I faltered my way through it.
Yes, it's a live recording, so skip the awkward prelude.
How to tell if a band is decent. Listen to them live.
And yes, a certain other blogger's favourite blues, The Black Keys, was even in front of my favourite (above). So I admit, they certainly have warmed to me. That's right, I like The Black Keys, even though I may have called them generic. They've grown on me...
I also worked this morning. I went and had lunch in the city with my client. It was nice, but I think I should have organised for him to come to my place for part of our party. Anyway, in the future... I'm not really sure what else I can titillate you with. Oh, my sister attempted to come up to visit us for the annual celebrations and to see our new place and supposedly so that new boyfriend can visit me. But the highway was flooded.
The new boyfriend. Here's a portrait of my sister J if ever there were one. They meet at a party on Christmas Eve? Then she proceeds to spend every waking moment with said boy for the next week while I'm there (besides Christmas, obviously). What kind of guy is this, you ask. Why an electrician, who has several slipped disks in his spine, and therefore has been paid out and cannot work in the industry any longer. So he lives with his parents. Lives off some sort of disability or work cover. And is hoping to study, when my sister feels like moving from our small town with him to somewhere that has a university. Yes, that's right, he's relying on my sister, whom he has known for a whole month to move with him to some place and will hold off university until she can. Maybe I am harshly judging the man. But my sister just jumps into these relationships without thinking - without stopping, I know she has wonderful intentions and is a fairly selfless person. But slipped disks is like a lengthy burden, and if he can't contribute to finances and the relationship very well (because he feels inadequate), I can't see that it is going to be an easy or positive one. Maybe I'm wrong, please let me be wrong. I just don't want to see her broken hearted again. But apparently she's coming up to visit again, perhaps next week. So here's hoping he's a decent guy, and that'll mean a good relationship and happiness for J.
My other sister N, is going back to the private christian school this year. She apparently feels more comfortable with the people there, and feels like they are better quality friends that just don't talk about crap and she thinks the teachers teach better. I'm happy for her, she tried out the public route and decided it wasn't for her. I only envy her of having that option (my parents were far poorer back when I was 15).
Sigh, I kind of miss them all. I want to go home and lose responsibility and be involved in their lives for a while again. I only have a precious few years before my youngest sister will graduate and become an adult and who knows where she'll be heading. Cumulative in the last year I've probably only spent 4 weeks with them. So little time, and so quickly the year went! Gosh, I always feel like I've missed out on half of her life. Damn 8 year age gap. I'll try and head back before the holidays end...
Anywhoo, I won't bore you with anything else. Actually yes I will. Here's a ridiculous Australia Day Lamb Ad. Just so you capture the true spirit of the day.
My favourite part is that they have to autotune his voice even though he sings a part that is a talking monotone. Oh and the final message: eating lamb is a prerequisite for Australianess. It's true. We shoot vegans and feed them to sheep.
Do you want to know the saddest thing about leaving my old suburb. I miss my IGA Lady. We were friends, in fact we were in some sort of de facto mother and son relationship. I told you, I'm completely normal. She would call me her son. I'd tell her about my plans to read and sunbake, she'd guffaw at my idle lifestyle. And tell me about her other children. I'd purchase my goods, never ask for a bag, and only ever use my card. Perhaps the most simple yet satisfying relationship I've ever had with a woman. Gone.
But it's ok. I've befriended the local guy at the Family Friendly Grocery (or whatever it's called). He's empathised with the pains of moving. I think I've found my new favourite cashier. Don't tell IGA lady. She'd be devastated.
Anyway, as you can probably tell by my rambling, our internetwork has been reconnected. Finally! So now I can harass you all with my indubitably interesting blogs...Our new place, is a four bedroom one in a slightly more distant suburb. I haven't learnt. I still live with the same roommates. They're still lazy and irresponsible. So I've been the one organising nearly everything. Thankfully, the roommate who is never around has been really helpful, so we might get some of our bond back; maybe. But guess what?! Only 6 months until I graduate, and hopefully get a job and out of share-housing. In to the illustrious world of studio apartments, or even a 2 bedroom one. But definitely living with less people, and the ones that I live with will actually do something besides watch TV on their computers and get high. Hopefully.
Really, I could complain endlessly about all of the work and a pain in the ass that this has been. But I don't really want to relive it. So let's go onwards. I've had loads of work lately. So once all my drug dealers my bills have been paid I can spend, spend, spend, like I'm from upper middle class America during the 1980s. Or one of those cashed up miners. Which is good, because I have very few acne products at the moment. But the interesting thing is that I've been trying out this new facewash by the name of Benzac AC facewash, in place of my usual gel BP. So far, so good. But it's only been two days. My skin is still relatively crazy at the moment. I have had these massive pimples around my temples, and lots of seb derm, which is calming down thanks to the two days I spent in the sun attempting to bring our old yard up to scratch. I also have quite a few little pimples on my forehead. Probably thanks to the fact that I've been wearing my hair down lately. That's right, my hair is dual functioning. It can either go up into a coiffed/messy look, or down into a surfy fringed look. Kind of like Seth Cohen (the OC). Which, coincidentally, I've spent the last week going through the first four episodes of season one. Ah beautiful, rich, high schoolers from california are the ultimate xanax. Their lives are so much more stressful than mine, I mean they have to live through high school, with millionaire parents, perfect bodies and somehow genius-level SAT scores. Not to mention their perfect complexions.
Anyway, like, whatever, we're in this together. We can get through this. Cue theme.
This blog is dedicated to my "mother" at my local IGA. 2008 - 2012.
So I'm that desperate for attention that I'm blogging from my iPhone. Why, you haphazardly ask? Because THE INTERNET IS DOWN! It will only take 5-8 days for it to be connected at our new place. 5-8 days!! For them to plug a cord in at the DSLAM. That's ridiculous! They clearly don't understand that my life revolves around the Internet. It's like taking crack away from a crack addicted baby (blame south park). I just feel lost and confused. Do you want to know the worst part? To set up our Internet connection, we had to apply online. That's right. When you don't have the Internet you have to use the Internet to gain access to the Internet. Stupidity!
Anyway, my skin is pretty bad now. I have three or four festering patches of seb derm. In all the usual places. So now that I have selsun, I'll start killing it. I also have a few pimples. Thank you stressful moving!
I must say there are some good points to being untethered. I have more time to read and play piano and to work and workout and DEAR GOD I'm going to the library tomorrow! At this point I may even start French knitting bookmarks for next Christmas.
So, as of this Saturday I will be without a residence in which to write my precious blogs, stare at my bumpy skin, or whinge about my filthy roommates. It's sad, you know, the end of the 'Broke's chapter. I may have shed a tear or two, as I cleared out the kitchen's layers of old junk. There was a busking license for a now semi-famous musician. Party poppers, unpopped, never to reach their full potential. Ice cream cones, whose owner has now fled the country, left stale and deteriorating. Fanta that has lost it's jazz, and returned to a more mellow yellow...I can't wait to get out of this shit hole.
So, my parents are up helping with the big move. Surprise, surprise all the houses we applied to fell through. Four young males, do you want to trust us with your family's castle? I think not. So we will be putting all of our stuff in storage. And living on the streets. I've decided my street name is now Omelette, said with a deep harsh growl. Hinting that I come from a once well-off background where cheesy, eggy goodness were a staple of my diet, but have turned to the streets where I make omelettes out of people's faces, in reprimand for their side-long glances...So I'll most likely be staying in my friend's townhouse. At least till I can get somewhere sorted, I may even go home and do the surfing sorting from a distance, at the beach, with free rent and food.
Hmmm, so that's the brief update of my life. Really I wish I could update and tell you that I've been in Europe for the past 2 weeks and met a beautiful wealthy heiress whom loves me for me. Not because I'm fat like Cindy Crawford. And that I spend my days sailing about the Mediterranean (in winter). But we all know that those are my plans for next week.
My skin, looks understandably red and slightly mountainous. I've been trying to keep up with my regimen, but due to a lack of cheap BP and no address to ship it to at the moment it's been difficult. Hopefully, once I'm old and dull, I'll look back at these exciting times of my youth and say wow, who cares what my skin was like or where I lived. Life was fun. I was youthful, the outer suburbs were my oyster, things were simpler back then, we still had analogue TV, you could leave your house open and no one would steal anything. A man could drop off a strange little old asian lady to her house (yes, this may have happened today), and beer was only 8 dollars a pint...Nah, I'm not the sentimental type.
This is the current version. I'll probably go over this and add some more white. My favourite side is still the right, I had imagined it would end-up a little more abstract than this (like the last version) but I got a smaller paint brush and tickled it a little too much.
With white and varnished...
Working for a Charity
"One should never do anything that one cannot talk about after dinner" - Oscar Wilde
They make you look like a good person. Working for one is much like owning a puppy. You go walking with the puppy, and people will smile, back out of the way, and offer random affection to the puppy and its protegee. If you happen to be male, women will throw themselves at you. It also works as a sort of social bragging card. Where do you work? *innocently self-righteous tone* Oh, I help individuals reach independence in their day-to-day lives. That's right, I'm a better person than you. Where do you work? *mumble mumble* Woolworths (supermarche). Thirdly, people give excessively to what they see as the less fortunate. Do you want to know where half that food goes? Well, to employees, because unbelievably 4 people cannot eat 20 Christmas puddings, or forty packets of chips, or fifty mars bars. Nor do we want them to (disabled people are nearly all overweight for this "let's give them chocolate" reason). But I cannot complain. It also means that I get to take home a box of food filled with Christmas items and junk food. To my great excitement (I am secretly a five-year-old), the highlights of my box were a bottle of green cordial (kool-aid, squash?) and a 1/2 kg bag of Cheezels. That's 10000 kjs (2500 cals)! I didn't even know that these existed until today!
They are incredibly disorganised. My pay has just gone into my account (2 days late!) because the one admin employee couldn't install MYOB, and had to manually transfer our pay; One-by-one, to our accounts. Had they been professional and maybe gotten someone qualified to do such a basic thing, it would've been fine. But no, that kind of expense is never seen as justifiable. So they cut corners and lose efficiency. I also arrived at work today and did nothing for an hour and a half because the house coordinator wasn't answering her phone. There are shifts where I turn-up, and other people rostered on, so I go home again.
You also have to put up with a lot of bossiness and crazy behaviour. Because society has this "people with a disability are weak" mentality, these people with disabilities get treated like kings for most of their lives. So they become middle aged people, who when you want to deny them buying themselves a 4th course for their lunch, will chuck a tantrum. No, it's not like a child. It's 150 kg 6'2 man screaming at you because he can't have an icecream cone from McDonalds. Or dare you make them actually clean (which they are perfectly capable of doing), they'll start throwing things at you and telling you that it's your job. They see all assistants as servants, when you are there to 'walk alongside them' i.e. empower them to live more independently. When really, most people just act like drones, and do as they say, reinforcing their lazy and often antisocial behaviour. After all, over political correctness is paramount.
Sadly, abuse is quite common. And well, it's smoothed over. It's ok for people with disabilities to hit other people. As an abused individual the question you're most likely first asked is "what did you do to trigger it?". However, the question they should be asking themselves is "since when is verbal or physical abuse ok?" and "we need to instigate a behavioural management strategy (consequences!) to fix these issues." Stupidly, they don't think consequences or punishments are appropriate (because they're not children). So we end up with amoral megalomaniacs who are never wrong. Big, scary man-children.
Rainbows and Lollipops
Feeling queasy yet? Well I have a solution for you. Like me, drink some red wine (maybe an entire bottle), have some chicken mignon and relax a little. Often these stressful days are followed up with quite pleasant subsequent behaviour. Apologies and laughter over a cup of tea. Life goes on.
I've registered my car! (I probably would have driven down unregistered anyway [it's Christmas!]) My skin is looking ok. The pimples on my left temple are fading. You know how you get in some particularly bad natural lighting and it shows all your flaws? That happened to me today, there's many little lumps that I'm not a fan of. I'm considering writing them a letter. It would tell of my great distress and the closeness of the snap-happy festivities, and the audacity of their appearance. Followed by a polite yet firm missive to back off. I think it would be rather convincing. Don't you?
I still have to finish off my Christmas shopping. Which is a very small list - save wrapping paper and ostentatious jewellery - it simply includes something for my Nan. However, the local mall is insanity right now. I'm better off giving her a found object. Actually I'm considering doing something like that Youtube sensation, the one where the kids receive the terrible presents (my personal favourite was the old banana; that the girl proceeded to eat), only I'd do it with adults. They may never speak to me again, but still, it'd make for an interesting psych report.
Do you know how you get to that point where you're super excited because your skin appears to be finally clear? Well that was me - last week. Right now I have about 6 pimples, 4 on my left temple, 1 above my left eyebrow, and 1 below my left cheek. There is something definitely weird about the left side of my body. It's actually bigger than the right side. As in more muscular, and my left ribs stick out more than my right. Singlets sit slightly off centre. I swear I'm not paranoid. And I don't workout one side more than the other. I AM ASYMMETRICAL!!! *panic attack*...Anyway, I think I've broken out because I've been using less BP. Not purposefully. I'm just running out, and work has not paid me today (I live pay-cheque to pay-cheque!!). So my order will have to wait till tomorrow, and I'll have to buy some super expensive replacement brand in between. Speaking of in between, I just finished watching the Inbetweeners, I never thought I'd say this, but too much of the male appendage in one movie?! But funny, (language warning!) if you like words like gash and pussay you'll feel right at home.
My younger older sister is currently visiting. Well not visiting me of course, but all of her friends. Which really works well for me because I actually can't afford to keep her. But she is staying tonight. When I thought I would have food to feed her. Turns out we'll be gorging on left overs (mmm, honey soy chicken for the third night). She has the opposite personality to me. Think extremely talkative, like loud, obnoxious even, and she likes to remove her clothes at any given drunken occasion (which is awkward when we attend the same parties). She told us at 19 that her life goal was to start pumping out children as soon as possible. However, if the child was disabled she'd simply adopt it out. She currently resides in the small coastal town with my parents (thank goshness), so I don't really have to deal with her. But I've lived with her for 21 years. Surprise surprise, she wants to move back up to Brisbane next year sometime.
I don't know if I can handle it. So much drama. She's good in some ways, like she's clean and very assertive, which does take some responsibility off me, but then I also have to put up with being bossed around, and general loudness/midweek parties/random crying because she's arguing with some friend over this and that. She likes to make friends with drug dealers and start an actual like pot den at our house where everyone can come over, chill and paint. My life always becomes more exciting, but at what cost? WHAT COST! I'm pretty sure her life goal is still something along the lines of hooking a rich husband and becoming someone off Desperate House Wives (her favourite show). Which she has generally tried to do in the past (a string of Engineers). I mean she's pretty enough and her personality is strong enough but come on. Or the other thing that she wants to do is own a clothes store. She buys a dress or two a week. And is still probably indebted to the banks for the 100 dresses she buys a year. It's ridiculous!
Ok, sibling rant over. You'll be pleased to know that my youngest sister is perfectly pleasant. She's just silly. She's quieter, but gets so excited for Christmas that she often spends Christmas Eve vomiting (well at least she did up till age 12). She also calls pillows "pellows", and could never stay at other peoples' places because she got so nervous that she'd have to come home.
Speaking of her, my painting is coming along nicely. I have added several layers of paint to it. I can't believe I thought I'd be able to do 4 paintings for Christmas. I'm now thinking just 2. I'm such a perfectionist that I'll go over a painting about 10 times. Then I'll wake up and decide I hate it and completely paint over it again.
What else has happened? I went to a GAMSAT study group yesterday, and everyone knew everything about all the topics. I hardly spoke, I was so overwhelmed. I couldn't even define an equilibrium. But it has motivated me to study before the next meet.
I've also worked some more. I even did a sleepover last night. I love getting paid to sleep. I think it is my life calling.
I'm also addicted to this song:
UPDATE (11:30PM): Then there's the nicer moments in life. Where you lose ten dollars that your sister gave you to rent a movie, and your banking system collapses, but she doesn't care and just laughs it off. Where she cooks Chicken Parmigiana (one of my favourites!) for your dinner and you watch a decent movie together and endlessly complain about the parentals together. Maybe living with her wouldn't be that bad...At least on a full stomach (the way to a man's heart, blah blah blah). Night y'all.
EDIT (12:15AM): I was just laying in bed and realised that I Americanised pay cheque (check!!) which is one of my most hated Americanisations (no offense to Americans) because it actually becomes confused with the word check, like I checked the mail. So why did they change it?! Why!
I spent some of the day painting, and nearly completed my littlest sister's Christmas present. It's kind of a Van Gogh, Kandinsky and Picasso mish-mash (read postmodern pastiche) of somewhere in Venice at night. I may have to change the bottom right hand corner as it's looking a little brown and murky. It's the first time I've properly used oils, I'm usually too impatient, but I kind of cheated and used acrylics for the background.
This year, my Christmas presents will decidedly all be artworks. Because I have car registration, and moving house at the same time. One of my friends actually suggested it, so I've been running with it. Although coming up with ideas for five different artworks may be hard...
On a related note, I read through Pygmalion by Bernard Shaw the other day. Brilliant book, I loved its poke at class hierarchies and social conditioning. Apparently it's the book that My Fair Lady is based upon. I also borrowed a whole lot of art books (for inspiration) and a new Stephen King novel today. So I'm excited to do some reading this coming week.
Have you not had your hit of Hasidic Reggae today? I think you should indulge. I'm obsessed:
Bad news. My skin has broken out a bit. It seems I have to constantly keep up the Selsun for this seb derm on my face. It's really stubborn. And a few pimples are raising up on my temples. I must stay vigilant.
Quirky news. I did a workout with my roommate J-Dawg the other day. His girlfriend came to watch, as it was just in our back shed. So we were working out, building up a sweat and the entire time she's staring at J-Dawg with this flirty smirk on her face. Then, once he's grunted and sweated out a particularly difficult set, they go and hug each other. Just to prove that she can handle getting sweaty. They'd actually kiss between sets. That is the last time I'm working out with them. I feel uncomfortable just talking about it. Urgh. He also bragged to me about doing squats, lifting her, in his bedroom. Some kinky shit there.
Good news! I've picked up some more shifts for the next few weeks. So I'll be out and about and paid. I also applied for another job in the same field. I'm not sure that they had any current work available, but my friends have worked with this organisation in the past and they seem to have a fair amount of casual work available. I'm hoping I'll get something by January.
Oh yeah, and it's my Nan's 85th birthday today. I called her a little earlier. She's so funny. She told me that I shouldn't call her because she only has bad news: my sister may be coming to stay next week. I told her not to expect a call for another year. She laughed and said gladly.
I once felt small...then I realised I was following a casually dressed basketball team.
So today I went jogging. I'm pretty sure I resemble an orangutan when I run. All legs and long arms. In fact, I think I'll just call my jogging: lanking or alternatively 'rangutannin' (that has quite a nice ring to it). So I went 'rangutannin' with my super fit surfing friends, and nearly died. I was short of breath within about 500m. Granted it was all up-hill. But these days, whenever I do strenuous exercise, I get really nauseous and short of breath and feel like my heart is firmly lodged in my superior oesaphagus. I should probably get that checked out (high blood pressure?) but she'll be right mate! Anyway, they probably ran twice the distance that I did. I should be a fat man; then I could make thousands of self-deprecating jokes about changing light globes while crushing "weak-ass" chairs. I could shop at Big and Tall. That has always been a life-long dream of mine. I could even legitimately purchase a pair of suspenders, I'm thinking something with piano keys. I would feel at home at Sizzlers and actually eat an indecent amount of food. Sit on a plane and claim the seat is too small, then get upgraded to first class. But who knows, I could have this to look forward to in middle age. My dad is quite well girthed.
Today, I ate popcorn. Popcorn has now become my favourite snack. For about $4 I can make at least 10 rounds of buttery, salty goodness. Such value for money. Such deliciousness. My inner jew is jumping with glee. I just don't know why I haven't had home-made popcorn in such a long time. I'm feeling ripped off, deprived of a deeper purpose to my life. My life mission statement needs to be adjusted: to eat more home-made popcorn than anyone else (and do other stuff too). I'm notorious for eating popcorn for dinner, with a side of M&Ms, as I like both junk food groups to be covered in the one meal! It's all about efficiency really.
Speaking of efficiency, I actually did some more cleaning today. The kitchen and living area have been swept, the pile of "high" dishes done. What an accomplishment. I feel like I'm turning into a better person with all these chores. I even had several Mary Poppin's moments, "And every task you undertake becomes a piece of cake" - it was all mostly in the hope that cake would appear - sadly no such luck. I feel lied to. I also dabbled at some piano, and spent an amazing amount of time on this website. Watched a little more Shameless. Read through real estate websites and thoroughly succeeded in avoiding all forms of study.
I skipped my regimen last night. No breakouts. I'll have to remember tonight. Otherwise Dan may appear in my dreams and show me the sins of my past, and how this has effected my skin (in some sort of Dickens cum Wilde hybrid super dream) but mostly he'd sound like the Wizard of Oz, and tell me that I only need to apply BP again and I'd be able to go home.
I'll leave you with a local band by the name of The Jungle Giants. My sister (the one that is a year younger than me) dated the vocalist. But mostly I just really love the video clip (I love toast shaped people!):
So admittedly, I've spent the day pretty much glued to the screen of my iMac. Well, I have no money. I'm currently waiting on the background of a painting I'm doing for my sister to dry (for Christmas). So I've just been watching the US version of Shameless. And well, I love it. Between mouthfuls of Original Chips, and one bout of actually getting out of the house and going to the gym, I've watched three episodes. Considering it's a US version of a UK show I was a little hesitant. You see, I watched the show a couple of times (probably it's first season) when I was about 15. I'd sneak down stairs and watch it on low volume on our 30cm3 second TV. I think I just wanted to watch it because it had an MA rating (for people 15 years and older), and the worst my parents would ever let me watch was definitely M (I think you can watch this one with parental guidance if you're under 15, it's just recommended for over 15 year olds). That's about as rebellious as I got. But it was a good show to be rebellious to: sex, drugs, nudity; all a fifteen year old could want. Well the US version doesn't disappoint. It's all entirely dysfunctional and full of loose morals. Vicarious living at its best.
Honestly, this weekend doesn't excite me. I have work tomorrow, which I now have to wake up extra early for (I guess I shouldn't complain, I rarely get up before 9 these days) and then I'm reluctantly going to my ex's - boyfriend's- birthday pool party thing. Well you know how I'm still in the same friendship group, and it's quite tightly nit. I played tennis with the young chap a week and a half ago. Beat him, of course... I mean I don't mind the guy, but my ex is always trying to promote friendship between him and my best friend, and my other roommates. It was even suggested that he should move in with us. How does that not strike her as infinitely stupid and weird? I'm civil towards him, but that's about as far as I will go. I can't imagine living in a house where she's around all the time with him, it just seems supremely awkward. Not only that, but she actually put up the event on facebook and set the location as our place. Then, when after a few weeks of no one responding, she was like "oh well seeing as I haven't heard back from the guys, we'll have it at our place". What a bitch. I mean you don't just assume you can have a party at someone else's house, especially without actually formally asking them. I'm a nice person, but don't take advantage of that and don't expect me to bend over backwards for you. So I'm going to make an appearance at this pool party, I may even drink a little (if I can score free alcohol), and hopefully have a decent time. Without having to worry about cleaning up afterwards.
There's the promised update. I know I'm kind of cheating (with the non-harsh lighting). But believe you me (I've always felt semi-special saying that, it just seems so wrong) my face is close to 100% clear. I have small red marks fading on my chin and light raised bumps on my left temple and some tiny lumps between my eyes. But I'm actually pretty happy with it. And I know I have a tendency to be critical of any minor flaws. For instance, my forehead has a pretty rough texture (kind of like oily sandpaper). But we won't worry about that, will we. The seb derm has also nicely faded.
So, uh, this is awkward. What will I do with my life now? Blog on an acne website with clear skin, although I think I will keep blogging for a couple of weeks just to make sure I'm keeping up my regimen... Maybe I should blog on a body building website and I'll end-up with an awesome body. Or a professional pianists' forum and end-up with amazing piano playing skillz. Maybe a millionaires' forum...
Want to be successful in life? Well, it's all about marshmallows. There were these trendy psychologists at Stanford in the 1970s who were looking at this lofty notion of delayed gratification (e.g. mmm, I really want to eat that delicious piece of chocolate cake, but I'll wait till after I go to the gym/do dishes/study/clean/work, etc). Well, psychologists love food, and they also enjoy being just a little cruel, so they sat 4-year olds in a room and told them that they can either eat one marshmallow now, or wait for the researcher to return to the room and eat two. Most kids either ate it immediately or stared at it for 30 seconds, then devoured it. Some even lasted for several minutes. However, only one third of the kids lasted a full fifteen minutes before the experimenters returned. So what?
Those kids who lasted the fifteen minutes were less likely to be obese, have behavioural problems, be addicted to drugs, or be with-child during high school. They scored about 200 points higher on the SATs than the those kids that just devoured the marshmallows straight away. In their 30s, they were less likely to have health issues, they were more likely to have a healthy BMI, less likely to be jailed, and more likely to be rich. The impatient little ones, they were addicted, poor and single parents. So the question is, would you wait?
I'd like to think that I would. But I can't help but to think that I wouldn't at the same time. I can't help but to eat some ginormous amount of potato chips, I always intend to jog daily, but I never do. I should be studying right now, but no. So I may have gobbled that marshmallow down.
Yesterday, I spent the day happy. I got some decent results at uni, I got a nice phat pay-check. I also emailed our realtor and they extended our vacate date by 2 weeks (it's now on a much nicer 14/01). I spent half the day cleaning, went to the gym with my favourite roomie (let's call him J-Dawg), and had lamb cutlets for dinner. I also bought a mini desk fan, a new vacuum cleaner, got a haircut and an excel physics textbook. I think it was a productive day, considering I got up at 11.
My skin is looking rather nice right now. The seb derm has all but disappeared, and I haven't developed any new pimples. The old ones are oh-so-slowly withdrawing their troops. So I've decided I will photo update tomorrow or Saturday.
Ok, I'm going to write a goal list so I actually do something relevant to study today:
Read and do the exercises for the first chapter of physics
Read through Bonds and do exercises for chemistry
Read Catch-22 and Pygmalion (my excuse is that you're supposed to be well read so that you can write killer essays and be awesome at comprehension and verbal reasoning)
Do a third of a practice MCAT verbal reasoning exam (they're like 85 minutes long!!)
I also want to play some piano, and mop the house. Lol, that's a lot of goals, I'll do half of them.
Have a good day ya'll.
I'm not really a sporty type of person. I like playing sports, but I get frustrated because I'm not the best at them. And I always have to be the best at everything. Which is why one of my favourite sports is tennis, because I'm better than most of my friends, so I actually enjoy it. I'll have a go at most other sports, but I don't particularly play much else on a regular basis. Today, at work, we had Hydro Olympics. Which was actually quite fun. I got to push, pull, and prod my client around the pool, and we came second in a race (because I started running up the pool and dragging my client with me) which I don't think they counted. But we came second, that's all that matters. Our team also won the rob-the-nest type game. So a day well spent. Except the fact that I didn't: (a) bring enough money for the day, and (b) we forgot sunscreen and a spare pair of underwear. I may get a mild bashing next time I work, for such amateurish mistakes, but considering it was only my second day shift with said client in about a year, I think I'll be forgiven. Oh, I also got a free cupcake off my roommate's girlfriend (who is a full-time assistant at my work) and scored a couple of chilies from their garden and a copy of Catch 22. Not to mention the free lunch and drinks at Hydro Olympics. All-in-all it was a day full of bonuses. How can I possibly complain?
Sadly, I also got a bit of free sunburn. I'm afraid this may be so severe that it will peel. So I shall soon be a flakey, cancerous, brown demi-god (I'm thinking much like an old Golden Buddha, whose tarnished skin is chipping away). Which reminds me of The Mummified Monk of Koh Samui. The story goes that this monk was an inspiration to the whole of the island. He was a buddhist teacher who prior to becoming a monk, was a local family and business man. In 1973, at the age of 79, he sensed that his death was imminent, so he called upon his students to carry out his last wishes. They were, that if his body was not decomposing, that they leave him displayed in a temple, as inspiration for others to follow Buddhism and be saved from suffering. He then spent a week in meditation seeking enlightenment, without food and water. He died in his meditation position, and he has not decomposed (well he has a little) but considering it's been about 40 years, and he just sits in a glass box, it's quite amazing. I thought that their must be some other explanation to it, like that he was simply in an air-tight, temperature controlled container (but no, it's just a glass display case), or that they had used some sort of preserving chemicals (formaldehyde?). But it doesn't seem like that would have occurred either. So I'm still stumped by the mystery of this monk. I want to be immortalised!
So apparently the douche-bag roommate will be living with us for another six months. I was disappointed when I found this out. But his attitude seems to be getting better, as his pot-smoking girlfriend has left for Argentina, and he's found a new job. Which is good because I think he really hated his old job. So maybe he'll generally be a nicer person and contribute to housework more now that he's smoking less pot. But this also means we now have to find a house, which is what I didn't want. Because they're large and require more cleaning and involve maintenance of lawns and gardens and everything. Sigh.
Well, that's it.
So I'm trying to figure out what to write. There are several thoughts that are semi-coherent enough to share. I'm not really sure if other bloggers are liking my daily updates, or more like shut-up I want to write a blog and not have to comment on your annoying ramblings. I've thought about writing about my Sunday, the one where I went to an advent meeting then to a Christmas party at my favourite Brothers' place. It could be done. Let's just see where the universe directs us, shall we...
I had a dream (of the non-revolutionary kind), in the not-so early hours of this morning, that one of my friends in real life also read acne.org and stumbled across my blog, and drama ensued. I'm not exactly sure about the specifics of said drama, but it definitely ensued. The one problem with this dream was that this friend has perfect skin (I could eat off his face). Although, I could imagine him creating an account just to hit on women. You see, he's quite an interesting character.
He's planning on saving to jet-set off to Japan, where he will spend the rest of his life cavorting with Japanese women (okay, maybe he wants to settle down with one). But that is seriously one of his main reasons for going to Japan. He also loves anime, hardcore music (he's a drummer), film and Japanese videogames (think RPGs like Final Fantasy or Kingdom of Hearts). He is also one of the most frustrating people I've ever known. I like hanging out with him but the way he deals with money and planning is hopeless. I mean I've been in a band with him, and I think he just wanted to make it, so he wouldn't have to figure out what he was doing with his life. He dabbles in film, he has never actually had a job in it, but he's done some sort of certificate in it, and he volunteers a lot of time to local projects. Which, I understand, is a difficult industry to break in to. He works as a bouncer at local clubs (I think), he also does some disability support work. I have seen this guy waste year after year, just doing the bare minimum to get by, claiming that he needs the extra time to work on film projects, and then spending all of his meagre earnings on new series of anime, videogames, and clothes (do you really need that pair of crocodile-skin pointy leather shoes?) while he eats noodles, and constantly sells and buys a new (secondhand) car because he'll need the money to head over to New Zealand or to invest in a new computer. In fact he once bought a cheap BMW. Surprise, surprise, it broke down in the space of 2 weeks, and would cost several bazillion dollars to fix. Have you ever met someone who just frustrates you because their life lacks purpose or logical decisions?
I must admit, drifters, or floaters or whatever other euphemism there is, annoy me a lot. I always want to briefly take-over their lives and instigate a five-year plan. I just don't understand how you can live without being concerned about your future prospects. I understand if you're more creative, then it's difficult to "make-it", but I don't understand why you wouldn't have several back-up plans, in case your plan to be the next Rowling, or Mick Jagger, or Spielberg doesn't quite come to fruition. Can you imagine how good a dictator I would be? Everyone would have to have a career, and "Stability," said the Controller, "stability. No civilization without social stability. No social stability without individual stability." everyone would be on drugs, to balance out the undesirable parts of their personality. - Brave New World.
That reminds me of one of my other favourite books: "The Beach", yes, the movie is ok, but the book is much better. I found a copy of this book in a secondhand book store on Koh Samui (a Thai island) it was the whole of 300 Baht for three books (that's about three dollars per book). And I think reading this book, whilst actually on the island, and visiting the locations that the movie and the book were set on, was one of the most satisfying literary experiences I've had. There's nothing quite like going to Koh Phi Phi Leh and finding it swarmed with tourists, and whispers of folk law about how the Thai Government was outraged that the film crew had set-up toilets, etc, on the island, destroying some of its natural beauty. Which is why they now charged a good 20 baht for access to the island (to keep it clean, of course). Then being offered a puff of a spliff (which my roommates gladly took up, despite Thailands' near psychotic drug laws) by our enthusiastic boatsman. Even so, you can still imagine living there, in paradise, no worldly distractions, everyone being a floater (on second thoughts, maybe I would go insane). Aptly we stayed at a resort known as Utopia on Koh Phi Phi, this was probably my favourite respite on our trip, even though I was probably the most hungover I'd ever been after the notorious Full Moon Party, it was a beautiful place to feel nauseous.
Sadly, I didn't have a camera for the trip, so I have to rely on the dodgy shots of my fellow travellers. Otherwise I'd have a lovely photo of Maya Bay.
Alright, I think I have reminisced enough for today/waffled on about nothing. My skin is looking a little clearer still, the seb derm is especially withdrawing, which I'm really happy about. Plus I upped the amount of BP, like I said I would, and felt a particularly satisfying
burning sensation after applying the AHA last night. I also popped a couple of those little skanky pimples around my lips.
Time to go study org chem and physics! (or kill myself)
So as you can see, this is just a quick photo update.
For acne: my problem areas are around my lips, chin, and my temples.
For seb derm: it's around my nose and eyebrows.
Improvements include my forehead, and between my eyes/eyebrows. These areas are fairly clear compared to what they used to be.
Overall, I think the regimen is slowly working, and I think I need to bump up the amount of BP I use and be careful to outline my lips (even though it's terrible if you get it on your lips!). I have also been slacking with the Selsun Gold treatment, thinking that the lack of stress and extra sun would vanquish the seb derm patches. However, I've decided that I will consistently do it for the next week.
Would anyone recommend doing the regimen during the day? I used to do it, but hated the time in the morning it takes and the being slimey/peely and extra sensitive to the sun. But I may do it again if it offers significant improvement over just the regimen at night.
P.S. I also get some pimples on my back, but I don't really mind those/can't really be bothered to use the amount of product and put in the effort it would require to get rid of them.
So admittedly I've been feeling a little emo today. Even though I had a fun day. We stopped at a petrol station on the way to the beach, and I went to the Mens' and glimpsed my face in the mirror, and died a little on the inside. It was all red and irritated, as I'd just shaved in the morning, and the fluoro lights showed every gruesome bump and scaly lump. So it made me feel really self-conscious for the whole day. Fluorescent lighting, especially of the sort that is poorly positioned in bathrooms, should be outlawed! I think I'm also just feeling totally overwhelmed with all the study I am supposed to do for graduate entry to medicine. Having to arduously work through Organic Chemistry and Physics text books, in my holidays, seems absolutely outrageous. How am I supposed to be working through these dry textbooks when I cold be frolicking, or picnicking, or falling off surfboards, or reading something interesting, or doing ANYTHING ELSE!
Did I ever mention that it infinitely annoys me that I cannot wrap text around images! Instead I decided that you shall have to view them all at once, photomontage style. Or you could just pretend that they're neatly spaced down the page with text accompanying them. I was going to take a photo of my face, then didn't because I'm sunburnt as well as pimpley and scaly (and I think I would die of shame).
So, the goods. We arrived fairly early to the beach and plonked our stuff down on the sand. Eagerly strapping our leg ropes to our ankles, we dashed into the surf. I stood there, and froze for about 5 minutes, as I usually do. The water temperature was refreshing, but not the sort I can just dive into immediately. So my other two surfer friends were already out the middle (there was no back). So I paddled out, and got heckled by every wave coming my way. They were dumping shories (waves that break too early and on the shore); devastated. When you haven't surfed for a while, the type of wave that you want is one that can carry you some decent distance. You have to have the time to struggle to get up, and the power to push you without too much paddling, and the knowledge that you'll softly beach yourself. Instead it was the type where you get pushed down and tumbled because you weren't up and controlling the board well enough, quickly enough. So I found it really frustrating, hopefully it will be better next time. Granted my other surf mates said it was ok, but they're a lot better than me (damn, faulty coordination genes) and have been surfing for longer and a lot more regularly. But still, my pride is a little sore.
We also played frisbee. Specifically ultimate frisbee. Which I quite enjoy, even though I'm completely uncoordinated at throwing and catching things (I imagine I look much like a seal trying to catch some sort of slippery fish, and rarely succeeding). Sadly we lost. I walked up and down the beach, had a thick-shake (oddly, I'm still not feeling sick, maybe I'm less lactose intolerant than what I thought) and I read a little. Considering that I woke up in a sort of anti-social mood, it was quite enjoyable just hanging and talking with my beach bum friends.
I also went to church tonight and briefly farewelled a cool guy, who is my connect (kind of bible study) group leader, who's going back to New Zealand to complete his Ph D over summer.
Anyway, I hope I'm feeling a little better tomorrow, and that this sunburn fades quickly (it's so hot!!). Thanks for stopping by and listening to me whinge.
"I was just walking down ze street one day and a man come up to me and he zaid "Do you want to be a szupermodel?" And ze next day I am in New York and on ze cover of VOGUE." Superstar!
So I was considering not doing a photo montage in supermodel documentary style, but then I was like NAH! They want to see gratuitous close-ups of my face (who wouldn't?), and they have every right to demand that from me.
But yeah, as you can see, in my non-model shots, my skin has improved nicely (or so I'll tell you), I only have a few fading red marks on my left temple, with a pimple in my eyebrow. There are some small pimples below my lips and around my chin area. As well as fading patches of seb derm on the left side just lateral to my nose and around my chin. This is after about 2 weeks of the DKR and a few months with the Selsun and Zinc.
In non-acne related news, my weekend was great. I went to ze beach on Friday, with people from church. We had the most delicious cake, it was passionate fruit cake. I should have really taken a photo, considering how food obsessed you lot are, plus it was the best passionate fruit cake I've ever had. Goodness gracious, I want some more now!!!
But first I need to rant about the coast. It is stunning, absolutely, but as soon as you go there your self-esteem drops about one or two notches. Every beautiful person just runs, in some sort of giant loop I'm convinced, along the boardwalks. Then they all strip semi-naked and lay on the beach after they're done running. It is really quite overwhelming. But thankfully a lot of them seem to blessed with little brains. See the culture is all about how low your ute (an endemic pick-up truck) is, whether it is a metallic shade of green or purple, whether the street vibrates with the resounding of your bass enhanced Ministry of Sound album and how large your UNIT sticker on the back is. Oh and you must live at the gym, because appearing on Jersey Shore, is basically your goal in life. If you're female, the hair is fake, impossibly long, and lightened to some gross "platinum" blonde, but why stop at the hair? The breasts are almost certainly enhanced, the tan derived from a carotene containing bottle, and their personalities seem somehow mimicked from The Hills and 90210.
Alright, let's move along. Umm, Saturday was entirely dull, but it didn't really matter because Friday was good enough. Except that I watched The Help, did I ever mention that I love Emma Stone (funny and hot!), it's true, she's up there. Plus the movie was actually on an interesting subject, 'coloured' servants in the south, so I really enjoyed it, the acting was top-notch. And then I just had to revisit Easy A, I think she just completely cracks me up in this movie, she has the best personality, now I wonder if she's like this in real life. Please let it be so.
On Sunday, I went to work, and had a good chat to my geeky friend, who brought his girlfriend along with him, at church. I then said my last goodbyes to my nun-boss. Spent the afternoon at the gym (well a whole hour of it). By the way, I've finally renewed my membership, so now I have no excuse not to do fitness related things. In fact, I'm even playing tennis this afternoon. So superfitness here I come!
Oh and let's extend this blog to Monday (my weekend never really finishes), I went to work for the first time back at another house. So we went out to some ridiculous suburb deep in the northside, and picked up his new wheelchair. It was cool seeing this client again, he's a little more easy going and fun than my other one, so that makes work a bit more pleasurable. Hopefully I'll get some more shifts with him.
Ok, I'll quit rambling now. The End. I mean it is finished. Fin. Game Over.
I forgot to mention, the house hunt is still going. And I really need to clean my room. Done.
I think I have to leave you with the end credits theme to every movie during the 00s, just to show you how done I am.
So in light of a Resery's recent blog, I too have my own embarrassing story to tell, no copyright infringement intended. So today my car was spluttering around on empty (his name is Butch*) so naturally I went to the local fuel station, to fill him up. I filled the tank till it read about 20 dollars worth. Which is about all I need for the week. I went in to pay, and the cashier told me that would be 29.95. I looked at her with indignation and said no, it was only 20.05. And she was like "no, it's 29.95", and then I gave her a puzzled expression, and she asked which car it was. And then I replied with the one on the left (when my car was actually on the right) in which case she looked down at her petrol computerer and was like, oh you got 20.05 Litres, you were looking at the wrong one and I was like oh, and then mumbled something really strange about not being awake (when it was midday), I then went to pay, and asked for cash-out and was about to swipe when she told me I can't do that because I was getting cash. I had to manually insert it. So I had to wait for her to cancel that last transaction and start a new one. I then walked out of the petrol station, past the growing line of disgruntled customers waiting to pay for their petrol, with my head down and shoulders slumped and cheeks reddening. Ha ha, I don't think I've been that embarrassed in such a long time!!
Now can you please tell me the most embarrassing story you have? I need some consolation. My hair has lightened a good two shades already.
*My car's name is Butch because I have the same car as my nan and my other grand parents. I needed to somehow make my car more manly, and less elderly. I really think it works, that and the dents separates my car from my grand parents'.
That's all there is; there isn't anymore.