One.
It's figuratively been aeons since I last blogged, but I feel as if I should, both for my own mental health and to satisfy curious observers. I suspect that Facebook presents an enormously skewed image of me, even though I've only had it for half a year now.
Currently I'm in the middle of a hideously exhausting orientation week at my college, Mannix. I'm an introvert at heart so I have been craving time to myself, which explains why I've just skipped an apparently 'unforgettable' lawn bowling activity to vegetate in front of a laptop.
I'm sick of parties and clubbing and the generally ridiculous nighttime behaviour. Clubbing and partying is such a hit-or-miss activity, how frustrating. Whether or not you enjoy yourself depends tremendously on who you go with, but I don't know anyone well at college yet. One day I will understand why I attend these things. It must be the social pressure, or morbid curiosity. I'm both fascinated and horrendously disgusted by the culture. Jeez, what are they putting into the water here? And at the same time, should I be disgusted with myself for going along with this nonsense, even when I don't always enjoy it? Whatever happened to principles and values and, gee, dignity?
I admit, dancing is fun. Maybe that's why I go out like this. It sometimes feels weird to dance without having a drink first though, so hey, I have a drink here or there. I don't need to drink much to feel it, because I'm literally a lightweight, but all the better for me. I should learn from Ashley Choy though, who says that learning to dance while sober is better for your health and your wallet. I've never taken drinking too far, I'm happy to say. I've never had a hangover, nor have I lost consciousness, and I've never thrown up from it. I just act even more like an idiot when I drink.
I lament the lack of sincerity in social interactions at clubs. Whatever happened to getting to know someone slowly? What happened to significance and the concept of beauty? You don't find any of that in clubs. It's just dirty, dirty, dirty. There's no building of trust or the development of meaningful relationships; there's only superficial judgment. I can't stand it, but there aren't any better alternatives in my life at the moment, besides keeping to myself in my room.
Actually, I'd go as far as saying that I much prefer clubs in Singapore to the ones in Australia. There's much less focus on drinking in Singapore.
I can't wait to find friends that I can truly appreciate here in Melbourne. In general, I find that after a transition between schools, I remain vaguely miserable until July. It takes me too long to adapt and discover friends I can connect well with.
Yesterday, I went to see the CBD with the college. Oh, it's marvelous. I'm eager to explore the city, but it'll have to be on the weekends only because I believe it's about an hour away from my college. I think I'll skip the beach trip tomorrow and travel to the city again, since my father will be here in Melbourne for a day for a conference he is attending.
The river that runs through the CBD, the Yarra, is apparently foul. Someone mentioned a 'fun' fact about the Yarra: they pull 150 bodies out of there a year. Cleaners get so traumatised by it that after a week of work, they're allowed three weeks off. Gross. The bodies come from suicides and murders and all sorts of nasty activities. Lovely.
I have dinner in about an hour. The fact that the food is catered is brilliant. For dinner you get two choices of a main meal, and then you can pick a drink (they have cordial, water, but also a really cool coffee/hot chocolate/milo machine), and you can get a salad, and then there's dessert. So far I've been impressed, but I bet the quality shoots downhill after the first week.
Toiletries are so expensive, argh. I've spent about $50 in the last two days just buying shampoo, soap, moisturiser for my cracked skin, and other goods. The stuff was too heavy to carry up from Tassie, so I've bought the supplies here. I'm trying to use my own money instead of charging groceries to my dad, as I've been doing for the last two years.
Things would have been sooooo much easier if I stayed in Tasmania, siiigh... Or if I stayed in Singapore, even better, meh.
In other news, let's get to the cryptic section of this blog post, to talk about who's really on my mind. I've been going through so much material from the past, trying to figure out feelings and thoughts, or maybe just to relive that time period. Some parts are hilarious because predictions came entirely true, as depressing as they were. I messed everything up exactly as I was told I would! I don't mind that though; it was fun.
But other things... I wish they'd turned out differently, positively, but that's how it was. You can think about the past as much as you want, but you can't change it. You can't turn someone into what they don't want to be.
I believe you never really get over anyone, ever. You can push them to the back of your mind, you can distract yourself with someone new, you can move away, and you can convince yourself that you're done with them, but the door never shuts completely. If you ever bump into them again, under the right circumstances, you'll be reminded painfully strongly that they never lost that dangerously magnetic quality. This is true, whether you already know that your endeavours will be futile, or whether you've already discovered that you two inevitably are incompatible. You'll still be drawn. To use a cliche, it's like a moth to a flame. It is. You know that it doesn't end well, but you can't help yourself.
It's like I live in my mind, replaying memories from back then, even though I'm physically here, now. I wish things had been different between us. I really do.
Sigh.
I've just been convinced to go to another party, so here it goes again!
Currently I'm in the middle of a hideously exhausting orientation week at my college, Mannix. I'm an introvert at heart so I have been craving time to myself, which explains why I've just skipped an apparently 'unforgettable' lawn bowling activity to vegetate in front of a laptop.
I'm sick of parties and clubbing and the generally ridiculous nighttime behaviour. Clubbing and partying is such a hit-or-miss activity, how frustrating. Whether or not you enjoy yourself depends tremendously on who you go with, but I don't know anyone well at college yet. One day I will understand why I attend these things. It must be the social pressure, or morbid curiosity. I'm both fascinated and horrendously disgusted by the culture. Jeez, what are they putting into the water here? And at the same time, should I be disgusted with myself for going along with this nonsense, even when I don't always enjoy it? Whatever happened to principles and values and, gee, dignity?
I admit, dancing is fun. Maybe that's why I go out like this. It sometimes feels weird to dance without having a drink first though, so hey, I have a drink here or there. I don't need to drink much to feel it, because I'm literally a lightweight, but all the better for me. I should learn from Ashley Choy though, who says that learning to dance while sober is better for your health and your wallet. I've never taken drinking too far, I'm happy to say. I've never had a hangover, nor have I lost consciousness, and I've never thrown up from it. I just act even more like an idiot when I drink.
I lament the lack of sincerity in social interactions at clubs. Whatever happened to getting to know someone slowly? What happened to significance and the concept of beauty? You don't find any of that in clubs. It's just dirty, dirty, dirty. There's no building of trust or the development of meaningful relationships; there's only superficial judgment. I can't stand it, but there aren't any better alternatives in my life at the moment, besides keeping to myself in my room.
Actually, I'd go as far as saying that I much prefer clubs in Singapore to the ones in Australia. There's much less focus on drinking in Singapore.
I can't wait to find friends that I can truly appreciate here in Melbourne. In general, I find that after a transition between schools, I remain vaguely miserable until July. It takes me too long to adapt and discover friends I can connect well with.
Yesterday, I went to see the CBD with the college. Oh, it's marvelous. I'm eager to explore the city, but it'll have to be on the weekends only because I believe it's about an hour away from my college. I think I'll skip the beach trip tomorrow and travel to the city again, since my father will be here in Melbourne for a day for a conference he is attending.
The river that runs through the CBD, the Yarra, is apparently foul. Someone mentioned a 'fun' fact about the Yarra: they pull 150 bodies out of there a year. Cleaners get so traumatised by it that after a week of work, they're allowed three weeks off. Gross. The bodies come from suicides and murders and all sorts of nasty activities. Lovely.
I have dinner in about an hour. The fact that the food is catered is brilliant. For dinner you get two choices of a main meal, and then you can pick a drink (they have cordial, water, but also a really cool coffee/hot chocolate/milo machine), and you can get a salad, and then there's dessert. So far I've been impressed, but I bet the quality shoots downhill after the first week.
Toiletries are so expensive, argh. I've spent about $50 in the last two days just buying shampoo, soap, moisturiser for my cracked skin, and other goods. The stuff was too heavy to carry up from Tassie, so I've bought the supplies here. I'm trying to use my own money instead of charging groceries to my dad, as I've been doing for the last two years.
Things would have been sooooo much easier if I stayed in Tasmania, siiigh... Or if I stayed in Singapore, even better, meh.
In other news, let's get to the cryptic section of this blog post, to talk about who's really on my mind. I've been going through so much material from the past, trying to figure out feelings and thoughts, or maybe just to relive that time period. Some parts are hilarious because predictions came entirely true, as depressing as they were. I messed everything up exactly as I was told I would! I don't mind that though; it was fun.
But other things... I wish they'd turned out differently, positively, but that's how it was. You can think about the past as much as you want, but you can't change it. You can't turn someone into what they don't want to be.
I believe you never really get over anyone, ever. You can push them to the back of your mind, you can distract yourself with someone new, you can move away, and you can convince yourself that you're done with them, but the door never shuts completely. If you ever bump into them again, under the right circumstances, you'll be reminded painfully strongly that they never lost that dangerously magnetic quality. This is true, whether you already know that your endeavours will be futile, or whether you've already discovered that you two inevitably are incompatible. You'll still be drawn. To use a cliche, it's like a moth to a flame. It is. You know that it doesn't end well, but you can't help yourself.
It's like I live in my mind, replaying memories from back then, even though I'm physically here, now. I wish things had been different between us. I really do.
Sigh.
I've just been convinced to go to another party, so here it goes again!