(no subject)
Okay, first of all, Ugh. What is with the new version of the post page. Amirite?
Second of all; I'm in Durham. God. It's been a MAD few days! Packing on Monday (24th) reached insane heights, and I wasn't done up till the moment I walked out the door. Literally, my packing this time was the MOST disorganised and delayed I've EVER been, EVER. Turned out okay, though, and I got to the airport on time, checked in (exceeded the weight limit OBVIOUSLY) and it turned out that there were three different flights from Singapore to Dubai via Emirates on that one night, and me and elg (we had decided to fly together) ended up on different flights. Which was okay, in the end, because I ended up sleeping the whole way. When I woke up, everything hurt. I hate sleeping on airplanes.
At Dubai, I met up with elg and cds, who had brought a friend along from Bahrain with her, and we all got on the same flight, but we had different seats, which turned out for the best. I ended up in the four-seat middle island of the plane, with two empty seats beside me and a lovely malaysian girl beyond them, so we negotiated and got a really nice place to sleep. Also, we were on a new plane, so the personal entertainment screens and remotes were AMAZING. Like, whoa. I watched The Avengers (omfg I see why we love Hiddles so fucking much oh my god just marry me) and War Horse (fucking fuck you you fuckers I was watching for Hiddles and BC and you fucking break my heart fifty times fuck you). So essentially, I had a lot of feels.
Reached Durham, the whole of the Northeast was drowning, as it does every now and then. The cab ended up taking a lot more detours and being twice as expensive as it would normally have been, and it almost negated the fact that the three of us had shared one.
In between writing the last paragraph and the one before it, I called my mum, and of course, we had a fight. Today hasn't been the easiest day, for either of us, and she just took it out on me. Today I had to get my visa checked. The night before, I was up till almost three in the morning sorting out my room after the storage people dropped our stuff off. Thankfully my room was livable after all that effort, but I was beat, from the late hours and from the jet lag, and so I overslept this morning. When I woke up, my mum was already working, so I just had enough time to call her and let her know I was alive. After which, I had to up and go get my visa checked. Lots of people dragged their feet about it, so we were later than anticipated. When we finally went and finished it, it had started raining like crazy. We got stuck in the rain. Not pleasant at all, I tell you. Freezing cold and wet, without an umbrella (because I am now used to sg weather). We tried to wait it out in the building but decided to chance it after an hour or so, and tried to run for it. It didn't work.
By the time I got back (naturally the rain had stopped) it was already 4 pm, and 11 pm at home. So I sent a text to my mum (which she didn't receive) and decided to not call incase she was asleep. And I decided to wait up today, so I could call her. And I did. And she was in a bad mood. And I was using skype so it's free to call home, and the reception was utterly shitty, so she couldn't hear anything I was saying at normal volume. And I couldn't speak louder because the walls in my new house are as thin as paper, and everyone can hear everything I'm saying. So we got a little shirty with each other. And I was talking to her about stuff and she was talking to me too, but then she tried to put down the phone saying she was busy and I got downright upset, because what the fuck.
My mum is insanely busy. All the fucking time. Right, I get it. She's working to earn a living, and she's running a household at the same time. Fine. It's not easy, I know. But there's a fucking lot of stuff she does that she really fucking doesn't need to. And I'm halfway across the fucking world, Okay? I thought I was more important than her going to the fucking gym, but apparently not. And she has fucking things to do, all fucking day. And then she's like, oh you're taking liberties too aren't you, forgetting to call me and all that. And I exploded. Because I was stuck in the FUCKING rain, and I'd like to see her try to call someone while running in fucking english rain.
And she exploded and said things about how when you're an adult you have lots of things to handle and juggle and you don't have time for anything. But the honest truth is that my mum does a lot of these things by choice. She spends so much fucking time on her fucking BASTARD students who don't appreciate fuck, and their absolute DICKS of parents, that she's stressed all the time, and I know she'd be bored mindless without her job but I want to talk to my mum at least once a day, okay. As an adult you're supposed to make choices. On one hand you want me to stay up till midnight to talk to you, but on the other hand you want to talk to me for fifteen minutes only because you have to go to the gym? Even if I wake up at seven in the morning to call her, she'll have work in an hour, and she'll want her afternoon siesta before her students come, so she'll only speak to me for ten minutes or so, or she might not even be awake.
I might as well as not call, at all. It'd kill both of us, but it might show her. Or it might just piss her off. I don't know. The way she ended the call today; I might not be able to sleep because just thinking about it is making my stomach churn. I'm half tempted to stay awake the whole fucking night and tell her, just to see how she feels. If she cares at all. Sometimes I wonder, even thought logically I know there's no doubt. And it's childish, but if she's allowed to emotionally blackmail me...
And today KB invited SC, who is not doing very well at all (he's about to be expelled) over for dinner. Dinner was fine. KB was lazy and the rest of us ended up cooking even though she said she would. I did shitloads of dishes, LS and elg ended up chopping veggies and cooking and it was all just very irritating. And the thing about our house is that the doors are a little hard to lock and unlock. There's a trick to it, see. I think it's so that people can't just wander in and take stuff if your doors are easy to unlock. While we were having dinner, AK (a neighbour we know, whom we also had for dinner) told us that there had been a series of walk in robberies in student houses. And I used that fact to make a point to KB, who has generally been lazy about locking doors. And then, when she went to see SC out, SHE DIDN'T LOCK THE FUCKING DOOR EVEN THOUGH SHE'D UNLOCKED IT TO LET HIM OUT.
MY ROOM IS CLOSEST TO THE FUCKING FRONT DOOR. IF ANYONE'S GOING TO STEAL ANYTHING, IT'S GOING TO BE FROM MY ROOM. I blew up at her. With an audience. I told her that it was unacceptable. And that she could take fucking liberties with her OWN fucking room and stuff, but NOT mine. And I said that the next time she left the main door unlocked she was perfectly welcome to switch rooms with me. And that because I didn't trust her, I'd be locking my room every time I left it, even if I was just going to the loo, because she couldn't be trusted to have a head on her shoulders unless it was a cock in her mouth. I didn't say that last bit, but I thought it. And I proved it, but taking my room key into the shower, because I take my stuff seriously. My life is not worth living if I have to tell my parents that I'd been robbed blind, or raped, just because a fucking flatmate couldn't be arsed to lock the fucking front door. I know my father would find a way to blame me. I just know he would.
Unpleasant incident, that was.
And when me and elg went to town to pick up groceries and essentials, and we were in Tesco, two teenaged boys started following us around and throwing stuff into our baskets, and at us, and calling us names. Now, me and elg OBVIOUSLY aren't white. Like, anyone can tell we're not white. So it was probably racism. And they probably picked on us because we looked like easy targets; two smallish girls alone, with lots of luggage to carry around. And the first time they threw something into my basket, I got pissed. I threatened to throw it back at them, and kind of walked towards them and made solid eye contact until they walked away. I thought that was the end of it.
But they doubled around an asile and came back, and threw a tin can at us, and I flinched. I mean. It was badly aimed, and it wasn't going to actually hit us, but it could have. And at that point, I was scared. Tesco was fairly crowded, but not every asile had people in it, and we were alone. And I took elg and we walked away. And I hoped that was the end of it, but they came back. They kept going around asiles and coming back at us, and calling us names and laughing. They were obviously egging each other on, and they were definitely younger than us. But they were bigger than both of us, and they could easily have taken us. And I didn't know how to respond except to keep meeting their gaze. To tell them I wasn't scared, even though I was terrified.
And it happened so many times that I got pissed off (and scared to the point that I was shaking) and just went to the staff to complain about them. I was half scared it would become a thing about us versus them, and that the staff would believe the locals over the foreigners, but they took me seriously, straight away, and they got security to escort them out. But they told me and elg to be careful when leaving the shop.
Suffice to say, we were shaking the whole way home, and constantly looking over our shoulders.
It gave me some insight into the mind of a victim, because even though I knew it wasn't our fault, the only thought that was going through my mind was; why us, and what did we do wrong. I blamed myself. Just like that time I blamed myself when some creep in a car propositioned me and tried to molest me on the streets. I was sixteen. I looked sixteen. I didn't even make eye contact when the guy drove by in a car. He doubled back, stopped, got out of the car and started talking to me and gesturing towards the car, and the only thing I could think of was that it would have not happened, if I hadn't been wearing a skirt. The skirt reached below me knees.
Basically, the past few days has not been fun, or easy. It's had it's moments, but the bad moments far outweigh the good ones. The only good moment I can think of right now is the bit when I finally unpacked my room and had it livable and cleaned up. Oh, and I learned how to play poker. Beyond that, nothing has been working for me.
I hope it perks up. If nothing else, I hope my senior agrees to sell me her textbooks at half price.
It's like I'm playing a game called; How Low Can Your Standards Go.
Second of all; I'm in Durham. God. It's been a MAD few days! Packing on Monday (24th) reached insane heights, and I wasn't done up till the moment I walked out the door. Literally, my packing this time was the MOST disorganised and delayed I've EVER been, EVER. Turned out okay, though, and I got to the airport on time, checked in (exceeded the weight limit OBVIOUSLY) and it turned out that there were three different flights from Singapore to Dubai via Emirates on that one night, and me and elg (we had decided to fly together) ended up on different flights. Which was okay, in the end, because I ended up sleeping the whole way. When I woke up, everything hurt. I hate sleeping on airplanes.
At Dubai, I met up with elg and cds, who had brought a friend along from Bahrain with her, and we all got on the same flight, but we had different seats, which turned out for the best. I ended up in the four-seat middle island of the plane, with two empty seats beside me and a lovely malaysian girl beyond them, so we negotiated and got a really nice place to sleep. Also, we were on a new plane, so the personal entertainment screens and remotes were AMAZING. Like, whoa. I watched The Avengers (omfg I see why we love Hiddles so fucking much oh my god just marry me) and War Horse (fucking fuck you you fuckers I was watching for Hiddles and BC and you fucking break my heart fifty times fuck you). So essentially, I had a lot of feels.
Reached Durham, the whole of the Northeast was drowning, as it does every now and then. The cab ended up taking a lot more detours and being twice as expensive as it would normally have been, and it almost negated the fact that the three of us had shared one.
In between writing the last paragraph and the one before it, I called my mum, and of course, we had a fight. Today hasn't been the easiest day, for either of us, and she just took it out on me. Today I had to get my visa checked. The night before, I was up till almost three in the morning sorting out my room after the storage people dropped our stuff off. Thankfully my room was livable after all that effort, but I was beat, from the late hours and from the jet lag, and so I overslept this morning. When I woke up, my mum was already working, so I just had enough time to call her and let her know I was alive. After which, I had to up and go get my visa checked. Lots of people dragged their feet about it, so we were later than anticipated. When we finally went and finished it, it had started raining like crazy. We got stuck in the rain. Not pleasant at all, I tell you. Freezing cold and wet, without an umbrella (because I am now used to sg weather). We tried to wait it out in the building but decided to chance it after an hour or so, and tried to run for it. It didn't work.
By the time I got back (naturally the rain had stopped) it was already 4 pm, and 11 pm at home. So I sent a text to my mum (which she didn't receive) and decided to not call incase she was asleep. And I decided to wait up today, so I could call her. And I did. And she was in a bad mood. And I was using skype so it's free to call home, and the reception was utterly shitty, so she couldn't hear anything I was saying at normal volume. And I couldn't speak louder because the walls in my new house are as thin as paper, and everyone can hear everything I'm saying. So we got a little shirty with each other. And I was talking to her about stuff and she was talking to me too, but then she tried to put down the phone saying she was busy and I got downright upset, because what the fuck.
My mum is insanely busy. All the fucking time. Right, I get it. She's working to earn a living, and she's running a household at the same time. Fine. It's not easy, I know. But there's a fucking lot of stuff she does that she really fucking doesn't need to. And I'm halfway across the fucking world, Okay? I thought I was more important than her going to the fucking gym, but apparently not. And she has fucking things to do, all fucking day. And then she's like, oh you're taking liberties too aren't you, forgetting to call me and all that. And I exploded. Because I was stuck in the FUCKING rain, and I'd like to see her try to call someone while running in fucking english rain.
And she exploded and said things about how when you're an adult you have lots of things to handle and juggle and you don't have time for anything. But the honest truth is that my mum does a lot of these things by choice. She spends so much fucking time on her fucking BASTARD students who don't appreciate fuck, and their absolute DICKS of parents, that she's stressed all the time, and I know she'd be bored mindless without her job but I want to talk to my mum at least once a day, okay. As an adult you're supposed to make choices. On one hand you want me to stay up till midnight to talk to you, but on the other hand you want to talk to me for fifteen minutes only because you have to go to the gym? Even if I wake up at seven in the morning to call her, she'll have work in an hour, and she'll want her afternoon siesta before her students come, so she'll only speak to me for ten minutes or so, or she might not even be awake.
I might as well as not call, at all. It'd kill both of us, but it might show her. Or it might just piss her off. I don't know. The way she ended the call today; I might not be able to sleep because just thinking about it is making my stomach churn. I'm half tempted to stay awake the whole fucking night and tell her, just to see how she feels. If she cares at all. Sometimes I wonder, even thought logically I know there's no doubt. And it's childish, but if she's allowed to emotionally blackmail me...
And today KB invited SC, who is not doing very well at all (he's about to be expelled) over for dinner. Dinner was fine. KB was lazy and the rest of us ended up cooking even though she said she would. I did shitloads of dishes, LS and elg ended up chopping veggies and cooking and it was all just very irritating. And the thing about our house is that the doors are a little hard to lock and unlock. There's a trick to it, see. I think it's so that people can't just wander in and take stuff if your doors are easy to unlock. While we were having dinner, AK (a neighbour we know, whom we also had for dinner) told us that there had been a series of walk in robberies in student houses. And I used that fact to make a point to KB, who has generally been lazy about locking doors. And then, when she went to see SC out, SHE DIDN'T LOCK THE FUCKING DOOR EVEN THOUGH SHE'D UNLOCKED IT TO LET HIM OUT.
MY ROOM IS CLOSEST TO THE FUCKING FRONT DOOR. IF ANYONE'S GOING TO STEAL ANYTHING, IT'S GOING TO BE FROM MY ROOM. I blew up at her. With an audience. I told her that it was unacceptable. And that she could take fucking liberties with her OWN fucking room and stuff, but NOT mine. And I said that the next time she left the main door unlocked she was perfectly welcome to switch rooms with me. And that because I didn't trust her, I'd be locking my room every time I left it, even if I was just going to the loo, because she couldn't be trusted to have a head on her shoulders unless it was a cock in her mouth. I didn't say that last bit, but I thought it. And I proved it, but taking my room key into the shower, because I take my stuff seriously. My life is not worth living if I have to tell my parents that I'd been robbed blind, or raped, just because a fucking flatmate couldn't be arsed to lock the fucking front door. I know my father would find a way to blame me. I just know he would.
Unpleasant incident, that was.
And when me and elg went to town to pick up groceries and essentials, and we were in Tesco, two teenaged boys started following us around and throwing stuff into our baskets, and at us, and calling us names. Now, me and elg OBVIOUSLY aren't white. Like, anyone can tell we're not white. So it was probably racism. And they probably picked on us because we looked like easy targets; two smallish girls alone, with lots of luggage to carry around. And the first time they threw something into my basket, I got pissed. I threatened to throw it back at them, and kind of walked towards them and made solid eye contact until they walked away. I thought that was the end of it.
But they doubled around an asile and came back, and threw a tin can at us, and I flinched. I mean. It was badly aimed, and it wasn't going to actually hit us, but it could have. And at that point, I was scared. Tesco was fairly crowded, but not every asile had people in it, and we were alone. And I took elg and we walked away. And I hoped that was the end of it, but they came back. They kept going around asiles and coming back at us, and calling us names and laughing. They were obviously egging each other on, and they were definitely younger than us. But they were bigger than both of us, and they could easily have taken us. And I didn't know how to respond except to keep meeting their gaze. To tell them I wasn't scared, even though I was terrified.
And it happened so many times that I got pissed off (and scared to the point that I was shaking) and just went to the staff to complain about them. I was half scared it would become a thing about us versus them, and that the staff would believe the locals over the foreigners, but they took me seriously, straight away, and they got security to escort them out. But they told me and elg to be careful when leaving the shop.
Suffice to say, we were shaking the whole way home, and constantly looking over our shoulders.
It gave me some insight into the mind of a victim, because even though I knew it wasn't our fault, the only thought that was going through my mind was; why us, and what did we do wrong. I blamed myself. Just like that time I blamed myself when some creep in a car propositioned me and tried to molest me on the streets. I was sixteen. I looked sixteen. I didn't even make eye contact when the guy drove by in a car. He doubled back, stopped, got out of the car and started talking to me and gesturing towards the car, and the only thing I could think of was that it would have not happened, if I hadn't been wearing a skirt. The skirt reached below me knees.
Basically, the past few days has not been fun, or easy. It's had it's moments, but the bad moments far outweigh the good ones. The only good moment I can think of right now is the bit when I finally unpacked my room and had it livable and cleaned up. Oh, and I learned how to play poker. Beyond that, nothing has been working for me.
I hope it perks up. If nothing else, I hope my senior agrees to sell me her textbooks at half price.
It's like I'm playing a game called; How Low Can Your Standards Go.