| Wednesday |
| Just how much can a sketch mean... |
Just like horoscopes, no matter how much i reckon it's a load of poo, i still pick up the paper each day and read it. Then a minute later, i forget what it said about my luck that day. Some people reckon that horoscopes are for those who are indecisive, lonely, and those you seek comfort. I don't doubt that, but i think i read it more for a bit of self-amusement and for giggles sake.
Adding to my growing list of strategies to avoid doing homework, i decided to take the challenge, gneake.
Resolution isn't great, but i figure i'll just post it up anywho.
Based on your drawing and the 10 answers you gave this is a summary of your personality:
You are sensitive and indecisive at times. You are a freedom lover and a strong person. You are shy and reserved. If you've drawn a cross on each of windows, you always want to live alone. You are very tidy person. There's nothing wrong with that because you're pretty popular among friends. Your life is always full of changes.
When it comes to love, you shut yourself off. It's difficult to win your heart because you have decided to keep your feelings deep inside. You see the world as it is, not as you believe it should be.
You added a flower into your drawing. The flower signifies that you long for love. We also see that you are sensuous, sexual, and privately passionate. You don't think much about yourself. |
posted by sciurine @ 10:51 PM   |
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| rainbows |
I have a dilemma. Maybe even a trilemma, or quadrilemma.
I've worked at City Baths Clinic for almost 2 years now, as a physio receptionist; the pay is good, in fact i just got a pay rise, and to describe the job as easy is an exaggeration. I like the workmates there and we all get along too well. There is potentially a future for me there in terms of employment as a physiotherapist and i will have a lot of connections provided i continue until i graduate. I took the job in the first place to gain an insight into a private practice, but two years into the job, i have learnt all that they have to offer me there.
I started working at a Sports trainer club a month ago. I get paid shit-all but i have and will continue to gain knowledge and experience related to my future profession. However, it is a seasonal job and thus, at the end of the season, i will be unemployed.
I am trying to save for global elective. I am trying to satisfy all my hobbies which most, like coffee and food and swing/blues dance classes, require a substantial amount of cash to fully enjoy. I pay my parents for food and rent on a monthly basis. I pay the water bills quarterly. I have phone bills and petrol to pay for. I receive some allowances from the government.
The dilemma?
With tangled up thoughts running through my mind after sports training last night, i walked into Mum's room wanting to discuss with her my options: whether or not i should quit my well-paid, easy receptionist job, and take on sports training experience whose pay merely covers for petrol and travel expenses. It seems my dilemma is simply basedon a financial view, but i figure this is justified as i am planning to travel overseas at the end of the year. I hardly fitted a few sentences into the conversation with mum before she butted in and told me to stick with city baths. She was fully against me trying to change jobs when it appears that everything seem so stable right now. I tried to explain to her that i have nothing left to learn at city baths, but in vain.
Mum has never been a good listener and i hate it. Despite my attempts to discuss issues with her, she never tends to put in that effort to listen before coming to her conclusion on the topic and from there onwards, will be stubborn in listening to other perspectives. I hate it. Though i was in a relatively good mood, and culture expects us to always respect our parents no matter what, i stopped the conversation short and walked out with a small, subtle, tired sigh. I didn't mean to give attitude to mum, and i don't think i did, but poor listeners really do frustrate me these times where i'm trying to seek logical and rational advice and comfort.
I figure mum spoke to dad about it afterwards, 'cause just before, dad came into my room and offered a massage. Normally i need to ask for one, but tonight, he offered. Although i am to blame for not informing or letting my parents keep up to date with my current life, i was initially very frustrated at how clueless dad was and angry at how little he understood of me. I am to blame, i know. I never tend to let them into my life these days, sometimes it's because i find that they just don't understand what i tell them, but most of the times, i like to think that i am protecting them from worrying too much over my rather hectic and misplaced life, and i refuse to shed a tear when they're around. I prefer to cry to a friend, or if necesary, in bed at night. That's not to say i don't love them. I do and i love my family from the deepest of my heart, and i guess, tonight seemed to prove that our love is mutual; not that i ever doubted it.
After letting out all the frustration, i quietened down and explained my situation to dad. Dad listened. And he understood. He asked questions to clarify and took the time and patience to understand. Complete opposite to mum.
He put my teary face against his chest; something i have never done in my life, and he offered me solution. He offered to support me and give me a weekly allowance so that i may continue enjoying my dancing and coffee, so that i won't feel financially restricted. He told me to do what i like; to quit city baths if i felt that they have nothing else to offer me and move onto sports training. He emphasised to me that money should not be a deciding factor. I know he loves me and he will do anything for me, but that also frustrated me. Dad doesn't make a living easily or anything, and i don't want him to feel obliged to support his twenty year old daughter. I refused to accept his offer and i cried at even imagining me needing to resort to living off him at this age. Yes, i cried. It's been years since i've shed a tear in front of dad. I've managed to hold it back all these years, but tonight, i let it out. I've bottled enough tears up and i guess, it's time for it to come out.
Me: "dad, don't you understand, i don't want to take money off you. I have not needed money from home since year 9 and now you're telling me to suddenly revert back to high school days. I'll feel restricted in what i do. I just don't want that. You don't understand."
Dad: "i'm your dad, if i don't help you through these times, who will? it's my responsibility to you. I will just give you money every week and you can do whatever you want with it. We'll keep that a secret between you and me. I won't ask you anything. You just have to let me know if you don't have enough. Okay?"
I am hating the thought of taking money from home. I don't know whether it's just pride (which i would highly doubt) or stubbornness. Or maybe i just don't feel right in doing so. Or maybe the tears are simply a result of me being overwhelmed with appreciation for my dad.
I'm just stubborn.
I gave dad a hug, and a very rare kiss on the cheek as he left my room. The decision's made, at least dad thinks so, and it is now up to me to type that resignation letter and hand it in. But when should i do it? And should i? |
| posted by sciurine @ 8:37 PM |
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| Sunday |
| woodling on... |
Although subconsciously, i was aware of the daylight saving procedure that was to take place today, i decided to give it a miss - not that i really had that choice. Dreading the early Sunday morning wake yet again, i rushed off to tutoring without breakfast, only to arrive, park and suddenly realise i was an hour early.
Annoyed at my forgetfulness, yet satisfied with gaining the extra hour, i finished tutoring early and returned home, feeling the tremendous relief of that extra sixty minutes i have just gained. And then i was hit with the dilemma of what to do with that extra hour. Most colleagues would suggest to use it productively to study, but that didn't quite cross my mind. This hour was worth more than stupid study. So, i took out my sparkling new Woodles Penguin Waffle maker. With limited milk and butter in the fridge, i managed to whack this up:
With more time to waste, i decided to snug in a blogging session and a jog around the park. Satisfied, i am. |
| posted by sciurine @ 8:10 PM |
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| a territory beyond those who are stupid |
Once is accident. Twice is stupidity. Thrice?
I have lost count of the number of times i got myself repeatedly into situations where i'm drawn into never-ending negative thoughts and procrastination, which i know are detrimental to both my physical and mental health. Each time when the same thing is about to happen, i stop and tell myself not to think, not to act; but it's as if this overwhelmingly powerful mysterious force makes me end up thinking and doing. Yes, not once, not twice - i think i'm beyond pure stupidity, perhaps i've reached "the point of no return" and now, i'm simply awaiting failure. Failure of myself, of studies, of people around me. I know if i don't get myself out of this, it will sadly eventuate. Maybe it's time for me to be more rational.
But what does it mean to be rational, i ask. To me, nothing from my heart is rational. If i act purely from what my heart guides me to do, to say and to feel, i will be wrong and stupid. So for me to be slightly more rational, i need to disregard my inner desires and feelings, and follow the logical guidance of my brain. But when i reach that stage of isolation between myself and my other self, i am no longer human.
This is normally my mood - a rhythmical up/down fluctuation through the course of the day with smooth transitions between moods and a relatively small amplitude.
This has been my mood for the past few days:
Please excuse my mathematical nerdiness, but i seem not to be able to find something that will describe my behaviour as clearly and concisely as sine graphs. Perhaps the sudden increase in oscillations these days have something to do with my hormonal state but i prefer not to see it that way. With more and more thoughts, the graph drops with a negative gradient until i eventually manage to get myself to sleep, with which my mood gradually escalate, preceding a dramatic drop in mood as i wake up to my alarm clock.
I should get myself out of this messed up little world of mine. I'm silly to get into such mess, stupid in continuing in this mess, and stubborn in not letting myself get out of it. I'm sick of my current self, and i reckon the best way to resolution, and probably the fastest way, is to ignore and pretend - both of which is so much easier than to forget.
On further thoughts, i attribute my recently depressed mood to the lack of sunlight. Medical literature like to call this type of clinical depression the fancy name of: seasonal affective disorder. Apparently another symptom of this kind of depression is the constant craving for sugary foods: i have been nibbling on fruit tingles since starting this post. Uh oh. |
| posted by sciurine @ 12:16 PM |
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| demanding people |
I hate serving demanding people. I hated them back when i was working at Maccas, when i was working in a grocery shop and at Big W. Those who demand too much are to be shot down harshly.
I got a call early this morning notifying me that i apparently suck at my job. Not put as harshly as that, but the underlying message of the call was not-so-subtle. It is one thing to demand something you pay for, but it is a completely different story when you demand from a volunteer. I make sure i call you everyday at least once to ensure that everything is running smoothly. Since your arrival, we have not seen one another for one day. I can't possibly comprehend how much you miss my presence.
Taking the responsibility on board, i am more than happy to spend hours on end assiting you if you need me. I have spent 3 hours literally chasing after my team around the city, rectifying their mistakes. I am fine in doing so despite enduring stomach pains, physical exhaustion, and arriving late to a 21st birthday party, because at least i felt the appreciation for my efforts. I can travel to your hotel purely for your convenience to explain to you the competition manual, organise your transport and training, and ensure that you are comfortable with the competition procedures. That is my job and i am happy to complete my role to the best of my ability. I have taken a day off uni and a day of paid work, but i don't complain.
But let me tell you this. I am not here to be your slave and purchase phone cards and offer you coffee. I am thrilled to be part of such a magnificent event, but you have to understand that a uni student has a life. If you want me to come in for a few hours just to hang around and watch you train, i'd rather be sleeping. I offer to look after all your paper work and offer to discuss any issues of concern, yet each time you rudely and bluntly wave me off, assuring me that everything is under control. I am fine with your bluntness; perhaps that is just part of your culture or simply a manifestation of stress. I understand. But if you are going to reject me each time i offer to help out, then don't fucking turn around can ask my supervisor to ask me to come in and stand beside you and act busy whilst feeling completely and utterly useless by wasting precious time that can be spent on something more worthwhile. |
| posted by sciurine @ 11:20 PM |
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| memories and thoughts |
Thoughts and memories each one of us carry with us and build upon through life shape the way we are. Nobody will ever have the same thought or memory, even if you had been through an experience together, recollections will always be unique. Scientists believe that without memory, we die. But i believe, for some of us, without memories, our lives would in fact, be better. I know it sounds so-god-damn bleak, but if i get a choice, i would selectively erase a lot of crap from my long term storage, even if i had to give-up a good memory with every bad memory i choose to delete. That may mean that i have so many good memories i can afford to live just as well without some; but it may also mean i am desperate in ridding the bad ones. Maybe the next major science breakthrough can be the invention of selective brainwashing.
Memories can bring you joy and happiness, but similarly, it can eat you up inside, making you feel small and insignificant. For every great moment you spend with someone, you seem to be able to link it to a bad memory. Just like waves in the ocean, seemingly never-ending memories continue to flood in, one after one. When you think of one thing, another thing comes to mind, then another, and soon, you realise you're tossing and turning in bed in the early hours of the morning struggling to switch off the mind and allow your tiresome body replenishing time with precious sleep. That describes the situation i am in now. And i hate every moment of it.
I can type more of my thoughts up, but i wonder how much of myself i am willing to reveal online. Perhaps some other time when my neck's not hurting and when i'm slightly more awake. Thanks for listening. |
| posted by sciurine @ 2:20 AM |
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| Saturday |
| It only gets worse |
Being falsely misled into believing that the role of Team Liaison Assistant only entails providing assistance to my international teams whilst empowering them to take responsibility of their own competition, I was not ready to spend a great deal of time in this position.
Taking a day off uni to attend a team leader meeting at the Melbourne Town Hall was already itself a massive effort. I haven’t been a very active person as of late, and if I had a choice between sitting on my bum in a daunting lecture or walking around the city, I would choose to sit – unless of course, if walking was integrated with shopping. Arriving at the hotel to pick up the Chinese synchro team, I realised I made a big blooper. Without utilising my specs which I should’ve, I glanced tentatively around the lightly lit hotel lobby overflowing with international athletes and assistances, wondering where my Chinese team was. It is rather unlikely that anyone would have difficulty identifying an Asian team, but I struggled. Not because I couldn’t see a bunch of girls with black hair, small eyes, dressed in red and yellow uniform, but because I didn’t recognised their international code name. CHI, which I have assumed the Chinese Team to be coded under all along, stood for Chile. How stupid I felt. I felt even more stupid after spending hours organising and compiling transport and training schedules for the wrong team.
Anyhow, not to be caught up with my silliness, I introduced myself to the CHN team (otherwise also known as PRC), and to my dismay, none of them spoke English. Nonetheless, with such an extensive history of studying at Chinese school, I managed to pull off with enormous effort an awkwardly strung together load of Chinese words. With a sigh of relief, they understood.
Finally arriving at the MTH, I acted host and guided and seated my team before venturing off once again, frantically search for my Macau and Korean teams who were no where to be seen five minutes before the commencement of the meeting. Shit.
Fingers crossed that they were somewhere in the room, there was still hope. A person with a strong European accent rose from his chair and announced a role call. Oh shit. For a moment, I thought I could get away without being identified as a bad team liaison assistant, but I was simply fooling myself. All the teams announced, including my Macau team, reported being present once their names were called, but silence proceeded Korea. I sunk into my chair.
That wasn’t the worst of it yet.
Yesterday was the last training day for all synchro teams before competition and I was yet to make contact with the Korean Team despite numerous attempts with leaving messages and voice mails at the hotel. After finishing my organisation of the other two teams, I made my way to the beautifully dull Sports Information Desk and asked if Korea had come by to collect paperwork. The French lady behind the desk jolted up with a smile, grabbed a pile of untouched paperwork from Korea’s pigeon hole and plopped it on the desk in front of me.
“They are the only team who have not come by at all,” said the lady with a strong accent, smiling, “I don’t know what’s going on.”
“Neither do I,” I replied disappointingly.
“Well, I hope they’ve handed in their routine summary forms today,” she said.
“Umm…routine summary forms?”
“Yeah, deadline’s 4pm today, that’s umm…in an hours time.”
“Oh no, crap. Excuse my French. Thanks for that.”
I dashed off into the city with only a vague idea of where the hotel is located. I really wouldn’t be surprised if I were to lose my way in the midst of the frantic rush. Russell street, Russell street, my mind was rattling away, where the hell is Russell street. I’ve been there billions of times. Shit, where is it??
I tram came to a halt at a familiar intersection. I looked around at road signs. Ohh, Russell Street . I hopped off with enormous relief and walked what seemed like miles up a hill until I reach Saville Hotel. I glanced at my watch 3:20pm. Awesome job! Okay, now where’s the team?
Huffing and puffing, I approached the old receptionist from FINA and asked to speak with the Korean Team Manager immediately. She understood my urgency, but was of no help. “Well, they left for the Crown Promenade about 10 minutes ago.”
Flustered I was and frustrated at this chasing game, I was in no mood for slow old people. I asked the lady when the next bus is due depart here to Crown. In the slowest slow-mo ever, she flicked through the manual as if she was analysing each page and struggled to read the twenty-four hour clock system. She eventually blurted out, “oh, you’re in for a wait dear, the next one won’t be till an hour later.”
Exhausted from watching the little old lady churn through those almighty pages of the transport timetable, I reminded myself not to ask another question or else I’ll be held back for another 10 minutes. I dialled Crown Promenade’s number and on the receiving on was another old lady volunteer. OMG. I have absolutely nothing against old people, but when you need to meet a deadline, they just seem to purposefully get in your way of everything. I tried to ask as little questions as possible, as that would demand too much of the old lady, so I simply and nicely asked her to keep the Korean Team there until I arrive.
Off onto another tram and another hike across a few streets and a bridge, my clock read 3:40pm, and the Crown Promenade was still beyond my sight – and that had nothing to do with whether or not I had my specs on. I could’ve burst out into tears of frustration and anger at my team’s disorganisation, which I do not take any of the blame for. But after some calming self talk, I let out a long sigh, shook my head and continued on my mission.
To cut a long story short, i eventually made it to my Korean team only to realise they didn't speak english, and our conversations comprised of slow, single english words, compounded with exaggerated gesturing. Not surprisingly, they didn't know about the routine summary forms, so i spent another two hours trying to sort it through with them, missing the deadline - but i cleverly contacted my supervisor and ensured that they were able to compete.
After what was already a very long day, i was starving and run-down, ready for some scrumptious free volunteer dinner. I was in anger and shock horror to find myself walking away from the counter with one single cold chicken wrap in my hand. They assumed that all volunteers wear sizes L, XL, and XXL, yet get by the day with a single wrap. |
| posted by sciurine @ 12:32 PM |
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| Thursday |
| there's a first time for everything |
I have laughed at people getting kicked out of lecture all too often, and what goes around comes around, karma, or whatever you wish to call it, certainly came back and slapped me in the face.
Today, i came into uni for one lecture before needing to head off and meet my FINA team. I wouldn't usually make this kind of effort, but i thought it was half justifiable and necessary this time 'cause we have an assignment next week. But silly enough, after having a few words with the lecturer in front of the class, i decided to hold my stupid head up and walk out, but surprisingly or not so, it was a rather exhilirating experience. In hindsight, i think i would've gotten more thrill out of it if i did it with more attitude instead of taking my time to consider whether or not i should walk out.
For classmates who didn't realise i had to leave in 10 minutes anyhow would've thought i was a complete idiot, but for me, it was pure fun.
I shouldn't laugh at "the guy in the red top" ever again... |
| posted by sciurine @ 12:06 PM |
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| Tuesday |
| Fédération Internationale de Natation |
I rocked up late to all three FINA world championship training sessions.
I had to make last minute rescheduling of two training sessions.
I am a young, naive university student.
You would think that FINA supervisors would recognise the last point essentially translates into: inexperienced, unreliable, and with very limited availability, that they would have placed more responsibility on other more mature, middle-aged, determined adult volunteers. But, no; they picked me. Me out of the 16 other highly capable Team Liaison Assistants volunteers. A few days ago, i received an email:
Dear Leanne,
Yesterday I was informed that one of our Team Liaison Assistant has had to withdraw because she got a job (she has been looking for something in her field for 2 years). You came across to me as being a very organised and friendly person, so I thought you would be the best candidate to assume the responsibility of the team that is now Team Liaison Assistant-less.....namely, Korea. I have went ahead and assigned Korea to you. I hope you don't mind. I know you are up to the challenge. (What makes her think i'm up for the challenge is still a mystery)
Korea is arriving on 15 March at 11.30 and is staying at Saville on Russell. One of the challenges is making sure Korea, with such a late arrival, gets to the Team Leader Meeting. I don't know how it will happen, but don't stress over it.
As i read this email, i smiled blankly at the flashing monitor on the sunday afternoon, allowing myself the time to register what that meant. I already have two teams to look after, i don't need a third. Whilst i am very humbled by the fact that i apparantly appear to be very organised and friendly, i highly doubt the genuinity of such compliment from a stranger who had only seen me twice, both times which i turned up late to the meeting with mini-skirt, thongs and messed-up hair. For FINA supervisors, they tend not to hold back with their fake compliments if it means the job gets done.
Re-reading the last sentence, "i don't know what will happen, but don't stress over it." What the heck is that supposed to mean? Am i really supposed to not stress over it and let it slide pass, stuffing up and sabotaging the Korean synchro team?
Oh well. More time off uni for volunteering; what more can i ask for when i'm already falling behind with school work...
Anywho, after witnessing too much unimpressive lack of organisation already from FINA, i realise that nothing will be done until i get off my bum. I have spent a good hour or so yesterday and today calling up hotels and confirming team meetings and protocols.
Sometimes i wonder why i always take so damn much on my plate...
I really should give myself a break. I need a holiday. |
| posted by sciurine @ 11:29 PM |
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| Thursday |
| the mall never fails to excite me |
Today was supposed to be my study day. Key word: was. But unfortunately i tend always to be highly excitable and easily persuaded, and my study took place in the myer instead - how tiring study can be!
I am a strong believer in retail therapy, however, as with all other remedies, there are certain criteria that must be met before it becomes of therapeutic use.
1) Be accompanied by a good friend.
2) Have a relatively heavy wallet, or
3) A loaded credit card
4) Time
Meeting two of the four criteria listed above is the minimum threshold upon where you get therapeutic benefits. Tonight is night shopping night in the city, so finishing uni at 3:30pm gave me plenty of shopping time, however, unfortunate as this may sound, time is no luxury when you are in a course like physiotherapy. So criteria 4 - out.
Needless to say criteria 2 and 3 are simply for rich people unlike myself.
So, i failed to reach threshold. In fact, even the tinniest excitement of being in the mall was harshly dampened when i tried on so many dresses, only to find that the one i like had to be the most expensive one. Prices ranged from AU$35 to AU$160. I liked the $160 one. It's no good having expensive taste these days when you have such a limited budget.
I always envy those who win $2000 cash for a shopping spree on radio broadcasts. Just sit back and imagine. *sighs* if only. |
| posted by sciurine @ 8:09 PM |
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| Just thought you boys would be interested to know... |
According to British MATE research on 10,000 people:
Women form deep and lasting friendships while men make fickle friends over a beer. Friendships between women is much deeper and more moral: it's about the relationship itself rather than what they can get out of it. They tend to keep friends through thick and thin across geography and social mobility. Men on the other hand, are more fickle and "calculating" with their relationships and seem more interested in "what's in it for me." |
| posted by sciurine @ 7:57 PM |
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| Saturday |
| me in a thinking mode |
It seems that the ability we are so fond of calling talent, or even genius, arises not from innate gifts, but from an interplay of natural ability, quality instruction and a whole mountain of hard work. It happens because some critical things line up so that good intelligence transforms into achieving extraordinary mastery. Geniuses don't necessarily have an exceptionally high IQ or ability, but they almost always have an incredible investment of effort. Thus, geniuses are made, not born.
Knowledge is highly regarded in today's society. Knowledge, along with experience, are critical components in the determination of your success, status and perhaps even satisfication of work and life in general. As one of my friends would say:
"With knowledge comes power; With power comes corruption." |
| posted by sciurine @ 7:00 PM |
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| strange habits |
Recently i have become more attuned to my strange little habits, some of which i find rather interesting:
1. I love looking into the mirror when i eat, particularly when using chopsticks or spoons, 'cause it makes me look left-handed.
2. I find enormous satisfaction when i manage to get a seat on the train that's on the window side, so that i may snuggle in and enjoy a short nap.
3. I crack my toes before sleeping and i crack my back prior to getting out of bed.
4. I twiddle my two little toes when i eat something nice; especially when lying down.
5. My pupils dilate and i stare into space when i'm thinking very hard or when procrastinating.
More to add to the list as i learn more about myself... |
| posted by sciurine @ 6:47 PM |
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| ABOUT |
Thoughts, ...flowing slowly and gracefully, ...awakening the senses, ...keeping you up in the night, I sometimes wonder why people write. To express? To reflect? To be heard? I write, to free myself from a world of thoughts.
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