| Thursday |
| post holiday depression |
i swear this is a real syndrome and if it hasn't been closely studied or analysed, someone ought to make it their PhD study. i can be your single case subject.
i've just had a terrific three-month long holiday, one taken between finishing university and commencing full time work. with the only exception of my holiday in nepal, those three months that have just past would easily have been the best holidays of my life. no worries, care-free, sleep ins, shopping, camping, very little casual work and spending a heap of time with that special somebody.
but now, that's all over.
i get home from an 8am-5pm shift, knackered and ready for bed. my neck hurts and jaw's stiff. the last thing on my mind is to get up the next day at 6am for another working day. i hate routine.
but i should learn to stop complaining. i have complained and rant to much these few days, i'm sure those ears that were listening are either getting tired or simply blocking out my voice. i don't mean to rant, and i will make an effort to control myself. talking about work bores me let alone you.
but at least let me finish this once,:
there are times this week that i feel like curling up in my bed and just sulking. sulking over the fact that holidays are over and that i can't see an end to this new venture in life referred to as adulthood and becoming a full time worker/slave to the government. sulking over the fact that i have hardly any time let alone energy to watch tv after work. sulking over the fact that i can't just pick up my bag and go shopping on impulse.
for a moment, i feel as if this is it. the responsibilities of adulthood will stick with me forever. which is why i feel like i should break out of this dreadful routine. which is why i want to leave the country, work and travel and see the world while i am young and full of energy.
on my way home, something serious could have happened to me. i have to thank god nothing did, otherwise i could've left behind quite a few unresolved issues.
i'm not upset at anything in particular, that's what's bugging me. work isn't treating me too badly, and yes, it could be exhausting at times, it's all manageable. maybe because i'm just getting used to something new and things have changed from the way they used to be, and i'm simply struggling to adapt. usually i adapt to things really quickly, but this time i guess it's a little different 'cause i feel like i have to take it on all alone - the changes, the decisions, the responsibilities. i'm not talking about work specifically, but life in general.
is it weird to be feeling upset as i venture through my next stage in life? |
posted by sciurine @ 9:11 PM   |
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| thank you, santa rudd |
On the 14th October, the Government announced a $10.4 billion Economic Security Strategy to help boost the Australian economy and provide support for households. All Australians under the Youth Allowance scheme was given a lump sum payment of $1000. I am one of those who now carry the burden of stimulating the Australian economy (not that I’m complaining of course).
It is like a dream come true. A handful of cash dumped into my hands, screaming at me to go on a shopping spree, no strings attached. This Christmas is by far the best Christmas so far.
Let me see…
Things I would love to do with the $1000…
1. Spend two nights at a bed & breakfast get away, with a package offer including a private mineral bath, mud face mask and an hour long remedial massage.
2. Dine at The Press Club on New Year’s Eve.
3. Buy an SLR for somebody.
4. Buy a new wardrobe.
5. A skincare set from shiseido.
6. Clothes, clothes, and more clothes.
Things I should buy with the $1000…
1. One pair of Crocs.
2. Two watches.
3. Three tops for going out.
4. Four pairs of pants.
5. Chanel number Five Allure fragrance.
6. Six casual tops for work.
7. Seventy photos to be developed.
And the remainder goes to a nice expensive dinner to be had with a special someone. And a teapot. |
| posted by sciurine @ 10:38 PM |
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| no entiendo |
Since the age of 10, I have stopped purchasing picture books, actually, stopped being given picture books by my parents, rather. Sort of sad, but I guess it’s just one of the many things we grow out of as we age. Big picture books with few scattered words, gradually transformed into ones with more words and fewer illustrations, and eventually being replaced by words printed finely in size 10 font with no pictures.
Now, hitting the benchmark of becoming an adult, I have returned to my old habits of reading a picture book. This was given to me as a gift for Christmas,
Usually picture books are designed in such a way that children can follow the story by purely looking at the illustrations. This one is different. Not only do the pictures tell you nothing about the story itself, but the fact that the whole book is written in Spanish only adds to the frustration - the frustration of not being able to read the slim book in a matter of minutes, and the need to look every single word up in the dictionary.
It is a complete tease to receive this as a gift. But nonetheless, you have succeeded in motivating me to learn and to persevere. Thank you. |
| posted by sciurine @ 9:41 PM |
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| Friday |
| get the ball rolling... |
This new skin brings about a fresh new beginning, a change, reminding us the importance of looking at things from another perspective so that we may learn to understand and accept all that we see for not what they appear to be, but what they truly are.
Excuses relating to a lack of time and importance of sleep have me inadvertently leaving this blog page untouched for months. It would be unwise of me to pick up from where I had left off , as that might take a few months worth of catch up posts, so I’ve decided not to. You’ll just all have to miss out *shame*
Life after graduation is quite a big change. No study, no books, no uni. Some people can’t live with the fact that life can be at a standstill phase temporarily, where it is completely acceptable to be doing nothing. I can. I enjoy the fact that there’s nothing to do, no where to be, no exams to study for, no supervisors watching my back.
The only thing that stops me from remaining in this phase of life is the rapid depletion of saved funds. Previously, I had taken tuition money for granted; living months in a row without needing to even access my savings account to the stage that I had almost forgotten my PIN. Now, my savings account has transformed into a spending account, where a dollar spent is a dollar gone. I sign the dockets as if I’m spending monopoly money. But in the back of my mind, a little devil speaks, “in a couple of months, you will be working full-time.”
Though, I have taken a little initiative today, or more so, couldn’t resist the temptation of double hourly pay, and accepted a catering shift on Boxing Day. I have quite a bit to live up to with this shift, considering that my employee record with this catering company hasn’t been so great. In fact, I am surprised that I am still on the employee list even after rejecting over 20 shifts in the past months. I have this bad feeling that the rostering lady is going to pull me up and tell me off when I arrive up for my shift.Labels: update |
| posted by sciurine @ 11:55 PM |
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| Wednesday |
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"A person who strikes, touches or moves, or otherwise applies force of any kind to, the person of another, either directly or indirectly, without his [sic] consent, or with his [sic] consent if the consent is obtained by fraud, or who by any bodily act or gesture attempts or threatens to apply force of any kind to the person of another without his [sic] consent, under such circumstances that the person making the attempt or threat has actually or apparently a present ability to effect his [sic] purpose, is said to assault that other person, and the act is called an assault." (Howard at 122)
Was it just me who tuned out after the seventh comma in that sentence? Imagine studying law...
In essence, this is what that sentence meant:
Assault is when someone contacts you without you letting them. |
| posted by sciurine @ 8:41 PM |
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| Saturday |
| the last bits |
I write this as I sit at the departure terminal of Sydney airport, tipsy. These are the last hours of this city, and god I am glad. Sydney is indeed a beautiful city albeit too busy and rowdy for my liking. From the dodgy bitumen roads, to the drunken idiots and sleaze-bags roaming the districts and taking night life out of all others who value their lives, and train stations with no rubbish bins…there is nothing I will miss here.
I don’t understand why Melbournians would consider flying all that way into this city for shopping, as one of my friends had done last year. The shops are spread out, your feet needs to cover more distance between shops, clothes are more expensive and essentially, shops are identical to that of Melbourne. Though, with time on our side, shopping has been a haven, managing to stock up on a couple of shoes, tops and a painting or two.
The four weeks have gone by in a flash, mostly taken up by clinical placement, cooking and grocery shopping. We were lucky to have been offered shelter with a mate of a mate’s mate’s place to stay for the month at a relatively low cost. This guy has moved up from Melbourne eight months ago, empty and alone. Admirable that he is a highly ambitious freak with plenty of potential, despite his verbal diarrhoea. He is a knowledgeable guy who wouldn’t shut up, even when clearly we had loads of homework to do. Arrogant is he, but with reason.
Hot pot has been the favourite dish of the month. Seafood, thinly sliced beef, taro fish balls dumped in a preservative-filled chicken broth, enough to feed a family, but cleared by three.
Clinical placement at the navy base has been rewarding beyond words, and is the sole reason why my time here has not gone to waste. It’s not all about treating polite guys in uniform with good build, though quietly, that did add the cherry to the cake. After these two years in clinical hospitals around Melbourne, my faith in good supervisors has dwindled. I didn’t believe that any supervisors can get the correct balance between expectations, independence and guidance. This placement in Sydney has changed my mind. Topped off with a grand exiting present consisting of electrodes, latex gloves, lip balm, bandaids, knee brace and condoms thrown into an innocent looking brown paper bag. Talk about random. Some of the best and most creative presents need not be expensive. In return, we bought them a cactus in a pot. Whatever happened to chocolates and flowers…
Aside from knowledge and skills we stole from the force, we scored two awesome discounted tickets to the grand Billy Elliot musical. First musical I’d been to in twenty-one years, and it has undoubtedly set the bar high for pleasing me in the future musicals. Stemmed from an inspiring movie set in the mid 1900s, it is a story of will-power, individuality, success and courage. Feelings of anger, happiness, grief, tears of joy and laughter, tears of sadness flowed through with the cast and crew showcased the amazingly talented young ballet dancer, Billy. The spiral staircase on which Billy’s bunk bed laid rose through the hole in the ground, sets came to life with aptly selected lighting, meticulously practiced British accent and the truly laughable moment as a cubby young lad accepted his unique sexuality, and danced away in female clothing, amongst gigantic headless dolls; it was worth every dollar I paid. |
| posted by sciurine @ 6:44 PM |
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| Monday |
| Still alive |
They say the best breakfast you can ever have in your lifetime is the one where you realise you could’ve been dead the night before. I was meaning to go see the Pope on World Youth Day, but came surprisingly close to seeing Jesus instead. To have walked through Redfern on a Saturday night, I was apparently unbelievably lucky to even live to tell the tale.
Put simply, Redfern is a small suburb tucked away just outside of the central business district in Sydney, well-known for housing mostly the aboriginal community and some of the most notorious killers/murderers/rapers etc. Several streets in Redfern are out-of-bounds for police patrolling due to recent incidences of violence against the police force, and even Dominos Pizza has a bank teller-like counter with screens. These people will do anything to get pizza.
Anyway, I survived – not only the walk through Redfern, but the freezing cold night under a tarp in the middle of a racecourse.
Clinical elective placement here has been a blast so far, and will no doubt only continue to get better. I had never thought I’d come close to seeing a chopper (aka squirrels) and huge warships in my life, let alone during a physiotherapy placement. Not only that, but learning from a guru in Clinical Pilates and other senior physiotherapists has been an absolute privilege and an eye-opener.
Clients here are mostly fit young men, and women, suffering musculoskeletal injuries and require the best of the best treatment to get them safely back into a physically demanding workplace within the shortest amount of time. Similar to a private practice, except better. Clients do not pay for the service, all equipment such as splints, orthotics are supplied immediately, and radiological procedures are done without questions and at no cost to the client. This is the most optimal care that I have seen provided by any medical or allied health team, superior to that of any public or private hospitals. Being in this environment has obvious benefits as a student. As opposed to being on a private practice placement, I do not need to care about how much the client is paying for their session, I can get them to re-book as many times a week as I wish, and all the necessary rehabilitation equipment and procedures are readily available. This is what I call student haven.
Though, there are down sides to this placement. Firstly, my day starts at 5:30am which means I am completely stuffed by early afternoon, and secondly, I am expected to chew through journal articles like I do bread. Though, most importantly, I have had to leave Melbourne for a whole month, which means, I need to do housework, wash my own clothes, buy grocery, cook and pay rent. And then, of course, there’s the boyfriend I have had to leave behind in Melbourne, whom I miss so dearly.
So far I have had the chance to hike through the blue mountains which was spectacular, and walk through two dodgy areas of Sydney – kings cross, the equivalent of Melbourne’s St.Kilda district, and Redfern, the suburb that is so dangerous even Footscray, Frankston and Springvale cannot match.
Many more sightseeing yet to be done. |
| posted by sciurine @ 9:39 PM |
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| Wednesday |
| dinner nightmare |
It's supposedly always a pleasant surprise when you get presented with something new and different on the dining table at dinner. I had been craving a nice small hot pot for some time now, and finally my wish has been satisfied, but it doesn't feel as satisfying as i had hoped.
Mum and Dad spent some hours shopping and preparing this new Korean flavoured hot pot for tonight. Despite good intentions, time, sweat and effort put into this dinner, it was probably the worst i'd ever recall having. As they say, the road to hell is paved with good intentions.
If you had ever tried Korean hot pots before, you'd appreciate that it is really hot. Chilly hot. Aside from the fact that the slow cooker took forever to boil the broth, which was problem one, within the first couple of mouthfulls, my brothers and i began to cough and splutter. Never blame it on the food is an etiquette in this household. My younger brother, dave, decided to break this unspoken code of conduct, leading onto a series of problems.
Mum began to scold at us all for not appreciating her cooking, (which we do appreciate), and complained that she will never try new stuff ever again, (which is never going to happen anyway). Then silly dad complains the food is too bland, which a few minutes before that, mum was told off by dave for adding too much salt. Mums yells at Dad, Dave yells at dad, mum yells at dave.
Silence. Beautiful silence.
Mum tells younger brother to eat.
He refuses and asks that he has the meat well done.
Mum complains that nobody in the entire household listens to her and angrily suggests that dave doesn't eat the meat at all.
Dave frustratedly gets up and leaves the table.
Older brother gets up after his meal and goes back to bed.
Emotions pour. Mum cries and leaves the table for her room. Dad gets up and stacks the dishes.
I sat silently and nibbled at the food with a sore gum, which was occupied to my wisdom tooth a day ago.
Mum decides to come back out to the kitchen in tears and yells at me (simply because i was available and vulnerable, whilst my other siblings have escaped to their respective rooms).
Mum goes back into her room. Dad finishes off the dishes. Brothers continue to lock themselves up in their rooms. I pack and leave for the gym.
Perfect dinner. |
| posted by sciurine @ 12:12 AM |
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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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