Life and times of an astrophysist who is actually a former journalism student who is really a NERD nerdy retarded weird girl pretending to be an astrophysisist...mispelling INTENDED!
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
So here is another addition to my scramblings of things I have written meant for my blog, but have probably lost its timeliness, a very importanty thing in the world of journalism. Anyways, back to the oral presentation…I wrote it on the most seriously awesome book I have ever read, If on a Winter’s Night a Traveller. So I was comfortable with it and I knew how to answer it.
However, I am petrified of public speaking, I couldn’t speak, I kept fumbling the words while reading it and felt like I was having some sort of out of body experience. I am not afraid of the people in my class as such, but more afraid of what they think of interpretations, that they’d think it was a bunch of bullshit or completely wrong, luckily in my class The Modern Novel there is no right or wrong answer it is interpretation, well to an extent. However, I digress I am rambling on and forgetting why I am really writing about all this.
I finally figured out that I do want to be in the journalism field, not a journalist as such, but a columnist that writes about the oddity stories or someone who writes book and/or movie reviews and of course a novelist. I definitely do not want to be in the broadcasting field because it is kind of like the oral presentation, but times then ten people in the class by a million. They call it mass communication for a reason. I guess I don’t see these people watching me on the television, but I know they are there. If that makes any logical sense.
It came to me at the end of this while discussing it with the lecturer. He mentioned that if I was going to be a teacher, (most students in the class are studying to be one) that I should be using audio visual aids and be comfortable with public speaking. So I told him I wanted to be a writer and the other stuff just came out. I suddenly felt like I had an epiphany and I wanted to tell everyone my idea, specifically my mom and grandma.
This must telling of my sudden realisation of dreams led to starting to like Grandma Sue-Woman after a really good chat. I liked her the same way I did when I was little. I suddenly was able to be honest with her in a non-angering way. I kind of realised I still would not be in Australia if it wasn’t for her or my grandfather. She is controlling, (and she does own me to an extent), but I don’t think she is aware of it, it has become so internalised and natural to her that she just does it and I don’t think she does if completely for the sake of being controlling, she does it because she wants what is best for the people she loves and cares about. So maybe she should be Sue-Lady? She also has a way with words, she is very diplomatic I am never really sure she is agreeing with me or deceiving me into thinking that she is and I am really agreeing with her. I am not sure how to explain. Anyways, I really envy her talent.
The Mrs. Lachlan’s Mum in Superheroes, not the Chris’s Mrs. Lachlan’s Mum (They are very similar, but have different interpretations to an extent) may be based on her just a tiny bit. I see a bit of my grandma in her. Sue-Woman is very cultured and into the whole being a good female kind of person. This is going to sound even weirder but I see a bit of Grandma Jim-Lady in Fergus. I won’t go into this one. It’s like all the characters I created they are either many facets of myself or different pieces of people I know.
I can’t wait for uni to finish so I can start the sequels to Song of the Superheroes. The one I started No Dogs Allowed To Drink Fizzy Lemonade (I combined the titles :P Read previous entries if you have no idea what I am talking about) is more about Mrs. Lachlan’s Mum ironically and so is the sequel The Bamboozle Blues are for Convenience Sake. Oh and I am really excited Wild Will my cult character has more of a role in both and I think I am bringing the whole problem solving thing in, but it’s NOT the same as the A.E.S.M stories or at least I hope it doesn’t end up that way because I remember Chris saying I probably shouldn’t be bringing that element in the Song of the Superheroes because it would turn into a Wild Will story and Sarah Evans may be forgotten. Anyways, I can manage the mental strength I will begin as soon as I hand in the last dastardly assignment on Friday night! Heck Yes!!! I have five left…. So I guess you can imagine by reading this blog I am procrastinating once more, but not to stress I know it will get done. It always does, despite the late nights listening to the child next door scream and the annoyance of people making the click clack noise on the keyboards on the computers at the uni library.
So I guess the point of this is to say that for every instance there is a ripple effect. A scary oral presentation leads to an epiphany, which leads to me feeling good about myself, which then leads to me talking to Grandma Sue-Woman and understanding her a bit better and then finally this blog entry. Perhaps I think about things too much.
P.S. I am done uni on Friday!!!
Saturday, May 17, 2008
- Lyndin (I think that’s his name)
I’ve had 18 different flatmates.>
5 out of 18 were bad apples – 28%
3 out of 18 did a lot of ummmm…screwing – 17%
2 out of 18 were anti social – 11%
3 out of 18 I got along with but never really got to know properly – 17%
5 out of 18 were awesome – 28%
As you can see I’ve thought a lot about flatmates and some random made up words, which I think are too weird to post, but were merely part of an idea for another story.
I’ve become a dastardly procrastinator. For starters I just finished an assignment that was due on Friday. I didn’t begin it till Friday night. Luckily the lecturer said we could submit the assignment over the weekend, as he wasn’t checking until Monday afternoon. Phew!!! However, I digress I ended up finding the assignment rather interesting and easy. I could have done it way sooner and got it out of the way, why did I choose to procrastinate? Oh the shame! This blog entry aids in further procrastination. Rather than go into details about
Let me tell you a story.
Me: (Quietly discussing something related to my superheroes characters about another sequel yes another I may or may on elaborate on it as of yet).
Justine: Are you OK Mel?
Me: (Cringes as improper use of name) Yes
Justine: Who are you talking too?
Me: I day dream about my stories and I tend to get carried away sometimes.
I wonder if maybe my imagination about stories has run off with me, to the point that I rather sit and muse about them continuously. I’ve done it since I was seven. I tend to day dream a lot when I am stressed or upset about something, when I want to escape. It’s also evidently these times when I come up with my best ideas. When I day dream I get really into it to the point that I take on a role of one of the characters or various characters and begin talking to them like they are really there, yet I know they aren’t. I recognise that I am in this imaginary realm, but the longer I get into it the longer I can sense the line between imaginary and the real kind of blurring. Sometimes I pace the floor in my room or I do something that I can do with out properly thinking. My imaginations tend to take on top priority. I am worried sometimes that I am losing touch with reality. I’ve never mentioned this to anyone before. I am plain old addicted to this form of escapism. I feel better, I feel safer and somewhat productive because I am coming up with ideas for my stories.
It makes me wonder if when I reply that I am talking to myself am I merely talking to myself or many versions of me or am I talking to imaginary beings that I have brought into imaginary existence. Let’s face it I am embarrassed that I was caught in the act. Normally I make sure I am on my own, but sometimes I do participate in it when I am around people. According to my Mom I get a really blank stare that looks like I am very deep in thought. My cousin onetime told me my mouth moves sometimes, but I think she was more annoyed by it than freaked out by it. So if any of you have seen me do any of those things I am probably imagineering something.
P.S. Is there something wrong with me?
Thursday, May 08, 2008
Assignments: again with the “owe my entire brain!” Literary theory, novels, I’ll be glad to go back to a period of non-reading.
Homesickness: Enough said!
Flatmates: This requires a bit more explanation.
It all started with a coffee tableon Friday last week and an ended with the disappearance of a kettle cord this previous Thursday, but the explorations and discovery began with the removal of the house sayings on Saturday.
Goodbye house sayings/signs. They were nothing more than a passive aggressive attempt to pay both flatmates out and make it look I was having a go at myself too for good measure. That was more like the no offence clause. You know when your about to insult someone you say “no offence” as a scapegoat so you can get out of trouble. The all intelligent flatmate and the nice underestimated flatmate took no notice of this. Except for the socks, that was an obvious go. The many references to socks worked Sam-Lady (She wasn’t MEAN enough to have the “Woman” on the end of her name) no longer left her socks and clothing lying around. However, she was forced out by meanness by the all intelligent I am so up myself I think I am better than everyone else in the entire world because it revolves around me flatmate a.k.a Elise-Woman (She no longer deserves to be called Elise-Lady). So I decided the sock signs no longer had a purpose.
Then there was the signs referencing Big-W, cheese, K-Mart, being a house ninja. They were jabs too or more like reminders of a certain flatmates one-liners and pay outs towards me. I was throwing them back in her face, but she in her all intelligence never once figured it out. I was trying to show how insensitive she was, how mildly uncaring she is, (well she is a sociopath!). So I decide these signs no longer served their purpose either. I also realised I shouldn’t pay myself out for others benefit.
Poor Sam had to move, I can’t help thinking I had a part to play in this as well. I didn’t want the previously aforementioned sociopathic flatmate Elise to hate me, so I bid into her sphere of influence. I hid Sam’s towel. I put up passive aggressive signs. I dobbed her in with management because of her smelly room and had no intention of telling her about the impending room inspection. I talked badly behind her back because I liked the sense of power I felt in doing so. She was alienated and didn’t feel like she even lived her. How could I be so horrible? This was to someone who wanted to be my friend. I can now honestly say I never hated her.
For some reason I just don’t like not being liked. I am sick of letting myself be swayed and sucked in by these types of people, such as Elise. Why do I allow myself to be manipulated by them? I came in contact with someone similar before I left Australia and now ironically I have before I leave. Even more strange is the fact I lived with both of them. One convinced me I had mental issues and the other convinced me to act on my dark side. I quit my job at Pixi Foto because of acting on the dark side. I dumped someone that I knew liked me for me because I was influenced to act on my shallow side. I even have one of those types of people now that has followed me everywhere my entire life, who I know I will never be free of.
I guess I should now mention that I was caught in the middle of a flatmate war. I was neutral, Switzerland you could say. I played on both sides of the argument. I agreed with what both were upset about. For starters, I agreed with Elise that housework should be done by all equally. Washing up and cleaning up your rubbish is common sense. The bare minimum would have been suffice for me. Although I am sure it would be for Elise. Secondly, I agreed with Sam. No one has the right to make you feel like you are not welcome in your own home or judge you because you don’t go to uni and get HD’s in every subject. I also under I understand being tired when working 12 hours a day. I also agree that if Elise had a problem with Sam she SHOULD have told her so instead of leaving nasty notes on her door.
It was after this I suddenly realised Elise isn’t a very nice person. Come to think of it she leaves her shit around too! The lounge room table has a pile of magazines, her painting stuff is everywhere and she leaves her stupid pictures, maybe to remind everyone how more artistically talented and intelligent she is or something.
I managed to make her hate. Because I see both sides I ended up making things worse. Or as she so eloquently put it “Those who play for both sides of the fence end up impaling themselves. Well done!” She said it with such venom. I could feel my heart sinking to my stomach. And why did she say this too me? She overheard me warning Sam to collect her stuff because Elise wanted to make timber out of her ugly coffee table. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to repeat this to Sam as it may have been confidential, but I wouldn’t put it past Elise do something like that. Come to think of it I said that with in ear shot too, perhaps that was the problem. She stopped talking too me, but I am glad because I no longer can be controlled by her sphere of influence as I am not allowed back in it.
Because of it a new war has broke out between Elise and I. This time there is no Switzerland. The flat has descended into disruptive silence, an oxymoronic conundrum. I say disruptive because it was uncomfortable and angry silence and silence because well it was silent. The only safe haven was my room and it felt like that was were I belonged, while Elise figured she could own the entire flat.
By Tuesday, I had a vendetta. The three days of silence had eroded my common sense. It had driven me insane. I wanted Elise to feel like Sam did, like I was at that very moment. I started to hate her I became obsessed with hating her. I wanted her out of my flat. This anger and hatred were eating at me alive. I realised it was poison and futile attempt as people like her never see it the other way. They are drowned by their arrogance. I just couldn’t let go.
Little did I realise it was merely just karma at work and I was learning how Sam felt. It’s not very nice, Latter apologised to her. She was acting like the flat was hers and I was getting sick of it. So on Wednesday began to act on my passive aggressive nature. I moved the TV remote to random places. It only happened twice that day, once in the draw where we keep the telephone books and the second time in the kitchen drawer. It was an attempt to tell her. I am here too and it’s also my flat. You don’t own the entire television set! I was hoping that perhaps maybe she’d say, “Melissa where is the remote?” or “why did you hide the remote?” But no she found it and the silence continued. I was merely trying to open the lines of communication, but it was a failed miserable attempt. In retrospect I should have talked to her. And said she was being childish, etc.
That evening in my insomnia I realised I should let it go. However I had hid the remote a second time before bed and I figured I’d put it back where it belongs in the morning. However, I should unhide it at that moment because Elise decided to hide the kettle cord the next morning. I should have seen it coming. It’s quite brilliant actually. I was amused by it for some reason. I use the kettle more so than the television. I have a bit of a tea obsession recently. Oh wow she cared to notice. However, I only hid the remote around the house, she hid it in her entire room because she knew I couldn’t get it back. She was one up on my on this little battle.
Then I decided that perhaps I should stop and look at my own childish behaviour. I went to the managers and admitted to hiding the remote saying I was trying to get her attention as she was ignoring me. I surprising didn’t get in trouble although I felt that I should have. Elise on the other hand got a notice of remedy breach, a warning for her bad behaviour, which I so eloquently put on her door. I had the upper hand this time, but I didn’t feel any better for it. She wasn’t evicted, but close too it. She in return left a note on my door that accusing me of not telling the whole truth. I replied with another note that said I did tell the truth about the remote, I realised I was being childish and there is a difference between the two implements involved. She ripped it up and stuck it back to her door. It would have been so much more effective if she stuck it too mine, but who cares.
So as you can see if I wanted to repair the damage, it’s too late now. That is why it ends with the kettle. Why would I want to be friends with someone who brags about picking up random men, actually brings them home, makes me feel bad for being a virgin, who is mean for no reason, but to be mean and has a prejudice towards people who are not at her level of intelligence. I’ve lost respect for so I couldn’t care less if she hates me. Then again it saddens me a bit because we did have some good times together. Perhaps that was the impalement she was telling me about? Anyways what I am getting at is, I am Libran and weigh both sides out, hence the scales, I finally saw Sam as the one with more merit and I sided with her. THE END! I am finished my amazingly long rant. However getting this out has made feel better…I seem to be having this cleansing type process lately, where I am just unloading all of my feelings out into the nothingness of the web. Now that this is out in the open I can no longer dwell. My 5 days of dwelling, which should have been 30 is now entirely over.
P.S. I obess too much.
Thursday, May 01, 2008
I highly suspect someone invisible uttered an unspeakable F name of a certain headache causing variety, because I am not acting like a chicken, laughing uncontrollably, jumping up and down because of a board game, (although I am suddenly really wanting to play Monopoly purely for procrastination type purposes) and unfortunately not taking a nice long nap. Did I mention I want to take a really nice long nap? Perhaps it will cure my headacheyness, which of course is another made up word. Come to think of it is probably this insane amount of literary theory by crazy French men, which is really interesting, but headache causing, stupid assignments, then there is the eye strain from the catastrophic amount of novel reading, financial stress because work is being a poo head and only giving me six hours a week, my humongous gianormous accumulating debt, then other types of stress, think flatmate type wars and the story idea outbreak going through my head at the most inconvenient moment.
So to quote the lovably vain Officer Octogenarian, the character not the person, “Owe my entire beautiful brain!”
Yes there has been story idea outbreak in my entire mind, stupid characters are really insistent about the sequel to Song of the Superheroes for some reason. I’ve decided Sarah Evans is coming back, apparently she doesn’t feel like she has fulfilled her mission against the corporate owning media or more likely the misogynistic Nigel. I’ve just lost the will to write lately. I want to get these ideas onto a computer screen and/or paper, but I think I have become to stressed or depressed to do so. It hurts me to neglect my writing.
I suddenly feel like I am whinging. I keep thinking sometimes that I hate my life and I have wasted a good part of my adult life doing everything in strange mix matched make no sense kind of way. I don’t really think my life has ever made sense to me. Then again I shouldn’t because I’ve accomplished some major goals of mine for starters come to Australia and to go to university. I’ve done two things my family hasn’t. I should be immensely proud, but all I feel is regret for some strange reason. I just feel like my priorities have become all backwards. For starters I continued to go to school after high school had finished, went to a foreign country to study, suddenly rebelled like I secretly wanted too and by that I mean question religion and partying. Now I want to go home just have a random job and work towards my drivers’ license so that I can get a good paying job in journalism so I can work towards being an author.
I can’t help thinking it should have been the later, followed by school, some sort of rebellion I didn’t come into partying till I was in my twenties most of my friends rebelled once they hit 17-19, then college and university in my home country in something I decided. I was kind of prodded into journalism because everyone reckoned I was a good writer. I wanted to be an astronomer, still do sometimes, but now I am in so much debt, that will be likely to not happen. Then I should have come to Australia as a tourist, not a student before and/or after getting a good paying job, but no it’s all jumbled around. It feels random and sporadic, I feel like chaos. May I remind you this entry is not about sympathy, just random garbled feelings I’ve been neglecting I need to get out of my head for some cathartic reason.
I have to constantly remind myself that everything happens for a reason, I wouldn’t have met my amazingly awesome beautiful friends here, written a novel or rebelled. It will be interesting to see how much I have changed once I go home. I shouldn’t regret my decisions, but I still do.
I am going home, but despite the minute amount of mixed emotions still left I am at peace with it and actually quite excited about it. I suddenly realise my fantastically intelligent attempt to stay here, if it didn’t put me in further debt helped me become ready for going home perhaps? To face my issues that I now admit perhaps came to Australia to get away from. Maybe I should go home to figure out how all this chaotic order of events happened and perhaps settle it before it becomes more so. Also my grandparents are getting older, I can’t help feeling they are not going to be around for much longer and I don’t want to be overseas when they are pushing up the daisies. Then there is the friends I’ve forgotten back home, I feel like I’ve neglected them. Mind you going home has nothing to do with guilt.
And the big thing I want to do is find my father. I feel like some will never know what it is like to have a big question such as this constantly hanging around you. The longer I put it off the more it eats at me. I have also just made the connection to why I am dreaming about being eaten by aliens. For starters I have felt alienated by people most of my life and well questions such as who is my father combined with this is slowly metaphorically eating me alive. It’s not a nice feeling.
Does anyone feel the way I do?