Happy Belated Easter, everyone! Yesterday was one of the few days during the year wherein I was happy to celebrate life and all its richness by spending the entire day (Yes, the entire day) eating chocolate. It’s testament to the resilience of my digestive system that I could wake up this afternoon — because waking up in the morning is, like, so, like, last year — without wanting to hurl up a litre of stomach acid and the rest of my stomach along with it. Of course, I’m far too poor to buy my own chocolate, and my friends are likewise. So we all leeched four huge slabs of Cadbury plain milk chocolate off our parents and walked around the neighbourhood eating them past the point of melting. Fun!
Funny, how despite the stark contrast between the uni lifestyle and the routine of high school, there are some striking and irritating similarities. For example: Much like the shittiness of your senior year, university is filled with essays. Much like the shittiness of your old high school (God, that makes me sound old), the coffee at the uni cafeteria is sub-par at best. And, much like the lack of motivation you have in your final year, you find yourself four weeks into the first semester and wishing you’d deferred your degree for a year just so you could stay at home, sleep past noon, and not have to look at your textbook and go “OKAY. So I will read this (large) amount of pages today or I won’t allow myself to eat any hollowed-out Easter eggs the size of my head.” Ten minutes later: “Okay. Page 1 was not at all bad. Who cares if it’s only… *squint*… the Introduction…? Lemme at it. *stuffs face with chocolate*” My my, life is fun, isn’t it?
So. *clears throat* On a slight tangent, allow me to explain the full extent of the uselessness of my degree. If you — a) Do an Arts degree at all; b) Are, like myself, not very interested in the history of Australia (as if anyone would be); or c) Do not care about full-blown explanations that give me an excuse to make this entry seem uber-long, the following summary will suffice: My Arts degree is borderline useless.
But despite the above, the Psychology major is somewhat useful, and I will be at university for at least seven years should I desire to become a fully accredited psychologist and primary school teacher so that I will, later on in life, be able to turn to your knee-high munchkin children and actually have the qualifications to say “If you don’t stop sucking on your thumb in two weeks, someone will yank it out violently of your mouth, you’ll have serious withdrawal symptoms and that boy over there with the red crayon will want to stick it between your teeth to replace your thumb”. And, since the aforementioned situation would probably never ever come about (ever), I can resign myself to the following fact: “Xuan. Your degree is useless. Unless you want to go on to be a lecturer, you should have gone for Journalism.”
With all of that said, I’m still enjoying uni. At least I don’t get lost around my campus. Exams in less than ten weeks? P’shaw. The fact that one of my classes, which I thought I’d enjoy, is turning out to be a complete crock of shit? Pssh. Essay due next week that I haven’t started, plus other assessments that I should be worrying about but am momentarily not giving a second thought to? Who cares.
Now if you all will excuse me, I have another slab of chocolate to attend to.
Posted on March 24th, 2008 | Filed under Food & Beverages, General, Work & Uni |
I had the grievous error of staying up until 3am last night, even though I knew I had a bloody long day in store for myself today. Partly staying up because I was rushing an assessment task, and partly because I had four glasses of tea in the handful or more of hours preceding the beginning of that rushed assessment. Dragged my exhausted little ass to bed at 3:15, got back up and brushed my teeth, lurched to bed (properly, like every sleep-deprived teenager should — think traipsing gait minus the gorilla arms and adding a couple of oddly manly-sounding yawns) and fell asleep at 3:45…ish.
Woke up late this morning at 8:15, rushed to print some crap out for class, then hauled ass to uni. One hour early. Of course, I don’t realise in the process of all this that the clock on my phone is mysteriously one hour fast. So I procrastinate going to my Human Behaviour tutorial (10:00am-11:00am), wander five times around the campus to the point where I can successfully pinpoint good places in which I can secretly snog people, then get a hastily made large mocha at 9:50am and rush to get to my tutorial room on time. Lovely how I don’t take advantage of time when it’s on my side, isn’t it?
11:00am, and my tutorial finishes. I proceed to have hot chips practically drowned in gravy for lunch with a friend, before her lecture at 12 noon. After midday, there’s another half-hour to waste not doing homework last-minute, and instead walking around some more. English, Text & Writing tutorial at 12:30pm-2:00pm, followed by another wasteful hour, then a tutorial for Australia and the World with that shitty, shitty tutor, all the while texting the antithesis of typically-sized Chinese boobs. Finish uni at 4:00pm, hop on the bus to the train station, hop on a train to the city, with half an hour to mill around and get lost on the same road four times before I finally find the building. Why? Because I have a gay youth meeting (w00t!).
Said meeting begins at 6:30pm, ends at 9:30 with a 10-minute chocolate-filled break in between, during which the awkward silence at the beginning of the meeting suddenly breaks, and we all act as though we’ve known each other for ten. bloody. years. Such is the power of random, random friendship (read: Person 1 — “Hi! What do you study?” Person 2 — “Psychology and Primary Education! You?” Person 1 — “Economic and Social Sciences! Hey, let’s be friends!” *hug*). Meeting wraps up at 9:30, and I get the hell out of that un-airconditioned basement with a parched throat and more new friends than you can count on the fingers on a set of two hands.
I make my way to the station with a new friend, then bump into two old friends from a previous gay youth group, and we all decided to catch the train in the opposite direction to where I originally intend to go, and instead we drive along from a different station to my place. We then continue past my place and stop at the McDonalds down the road, order an arse-load of fattening food, then eat in the parking lot and manufacture a selectively LOUD amount of ruckus at 11:00pm when there are houses across the road and you can tell people are trying to sleep.
I get back to my place at 11:30 in the evening. Then I decide, 50 minutes later, to blog, because I really should pay more attention to this ickle thing here, and it’s refreshing to have something to blog about, even though I sound extremely narcissistic. Knowing, even with coffee in my system, how swiftly and easily I get tired and lose energy, I was surprised that I made it through the 13-hour day today and ended up dancing to “Don’t Stop the Music” playing loudly from the television and bass system in the living room at 11:30 at night (I’m now suitably fatigued, and if it weren’t for the brightness of this computer monitor, I’d fall asleep).
Somehow, I think that today was an opportunity to come out of my shell and show myself that I can re-gain that feeling of being purely enthralled and exhilarated - something I only ever seem to feel when I’m on stage at a dance competition. It also shows the value I hold in a large, large, large mocha. Large. Like I said. 3 - 5 hours of sleep at night is GREAT. (No. Seriously.)
So, dear people. When was the last time you truly felt alive, fun-filled, exhilarated, and on top of the world?
Posted on March 12th, 2008 | Filed under Fun, Life, Work & Uni |
