Herd immunity

Blogs are evil, evil things. this is my conclusion because they rear their heads like a many headed hydra... and no matter how often you slice off one head, another one is going to rear up in its place. No, i'm not talking about other people's blogs, but my own. this is a case of "hey, s/he recently updated hers... i feel the need to do the same". i feel like a sad lady. and once again, my blog has turned into a sad lady. i swear, you can actually draw a graph relating to the content of my blogs. they start off well enough... before descending into the depths of melancholy poetry, lamenting my life and the trials i have with thinking logically, while my other half obviously has no problem doing so. and this has happened to each and every single one that i've started.

well. poetry is piss easy to write. and when you get lazy with updating your blog, it's so much easier sprouting some lines as opposed to scratching one?s head for half an hour trying to think of something witty and intelligent to say. and i am a lazy person. i will admit that freely. because let's be honest, i think we all like to cut corners where possible. it makes sense. it'll get us to the same destination as the longer route BUT it saves us time and effort. double win. triple win because i like to secretly whine and poetry is a lovely route to do so because it doesn't sound so whiny. and it's awful fun being melodramatic, as i have been accused of once. but i assure you, each and every word is heartfelt. so if you ever are privileged to have some verses written about you, feel special. you're a work of art... done in the quickest of flashes.

i love facebook. i digress because i suddenly remembered something i could talk about so that i wouldn?t need to spend half an hour thinking of things to say. back to my point. facebook is wonderful because it makes me feel less of a freak. i swear, i was the only one who used to race raindrops down windows when i was a kid (i am also inclined to do so now in times of absolute boredom). or feel the need to always have a blanket on me when i sleep, no matter how hot it is. or i like to eat my big macs by splitting them in half and then eating each half individually because it makes them last longer. the last one is fictitious but i swear, there's probably a similar group on facebook. or, my left boob is bigger than my right one. something random like that. i also find relief that i am not the only one crushing on Sterling Knight or Dr. Robert Chase because this makes me feel that my taste in men is not as weird as i think it is. except this makes my marriage proposal slightly more difficult, what with all the rivals. ah facebook. it makes us feel so warm and safe in the nest that is herd immunity. i like knowing that there are other freaks out there because together, we're not individual freaks... we're just normal.

we'd like to think that we're slightly weird in some different and fantastic way, but there's probably another million odd people who have the same peculiar characteristic. and so like a herd, we move together. when someone posts, we all post. it's okay. it's just human nature.

Moonshine.

The moon hangs on a silver thread
so full and so blue.
I hold your hand in mine
and we're warm, as you do.
The shadows skip across our feet
as we walk in the dark briskly.
You'll suddenly let go for a moment
and I fear that our connection has broke.
But you flick back those strands
that hang over my face like branches
and the moon is bright again.

Detox

But now the detox has kicked in and the high
that's sustained me has disappeared completely
and left me feeling hollow and alone once more.

Curiosity Kills.

I wish I hadn't turned around to see
because then the salt that appeared
wouldn't drip down my cheeks.
Some things are better left unknown
and some things best left buried and unseen.
'cause to stir the undisturbed waters only
wakes the Hydra from its sleep.
Cats have nine lives but I have only one,
and so the only thing that curiosity killed
was me.

My favourite things

I am in love. With my ukulele. I also am in love with my Asians who got me the ukulele. Why i love my ukulele
- i can play taylor swift all i want
- the ukulele is smaller so i can play a gazillion more chords than on the guitar because i can actually reach them now
- eeeehhh. it's a ukulele!

also, i have decided that being sung to is over rated. but pancakes in bed are not.
and this is turning into a really crappy entry. but i am
a) too hyped up over my ukulele (well, this weekend in general)
b) tired
c) blissfully happy, but with a tinge of stress

thus, i conclude that i shall return another day.

Oxymoron

I bent down to smell that fragrant rose,
but forgot the thorns that pierced my skin.
You're the bitter taste in my mouth after
I drink in that rich aroma of fresh coffee,
but sweet when I savour you in my head.
It's such sweet torture when I dwell on you
because you make two things that will never
be in harmony fit perfectly together anyway.

Of which, I try to bestow motherly guidance

this is possibly the worst bubble tea i have ever, ever had the misfortune to have.
1. no bubbles
2. almost 3/4 of the volume consisted of ice
the only redeeming feature was the fact that it tasted sweet. it was a rather nice taste, i have to admit.

except bad bubble tea is surpassed by the awful sinking feeling in one's stomach when one realises that it is Sunday evening... and there is a full five days ahead of you before the next weekend rolls around. it is depressing indeed.
i also realised than when one finishes a film, there's a bittersweet feeling in your stomach. sweet because the film came to a conclusion (happy, hopefully) and bitter because that's the last that you're going to hear of those characters. unless of course, there's a sequel. but we all know that sequels suck. unless, you're desperate enough to read fanfiction. which admittedly, i have done.

i have decided that Sunday evenings are the worst evenings and Fridays are the best.

this is turning into a bit of a depressing blog post. so perhaps i'll try to lighten up the mood. things are happy making include
- sniffing clothes. people's clothes in particular.
- when the mould has disappeared from the ceiling! courtesy of one awesome flatmate
- when the other two lovely flatmates have baked a black forest cake
- my bed
- watching 10 Things I Hate About You and quoting all the memorable one liners. i would like to say that any man who wants to uh, conquer my heart (damn, that sounds cheesy), should sing to me like Patrick did to Katerina. or buy me an electric guitar. but a ukulele will suffice.
- when you see people using the word 'definitely' spelt correctly
- baby photos

i have just come to the conclusion that i like lists. i would say that i am slightly OCD. but that would be taking my hypochondriacism to the max. also, i used to do things five times. that or seven times. never six times or four times. i also dislike any number that ends in a 'nine' because it makes it seem... incomplete. but i have never ordered my pens. my desk is tidy, but it's not in any special order. noooope. i think i'm just plain fussy and not OCD at all.

i am cold. in fact, i think i've lost weight from burning body fuels to keep warm. you know, i find it bloody ridiculous how some people have electricity bills close to $700. HTFU! our flat uses a mere $200 in the height of winter. it does help i suppose, the fact that we have a relatively small flat. which is piss easy to heat. so, in the light of flat hunters trawling Dunedin for that lovenest that will be their home next year, i will compile a list of things to take note of when flat hunting:
1. heat pump is essential
2. ask them how much their power bill is in winter (actually, this is often not very accurate... the previous tenants told us that they spent $99 in the middle of winter... i'm surprised they all didn't freeze before they graduated)
3. take note of the mould. on the walls? on the ceiling of the bathroom? (btw, on the bathroom ceiling is a given. it's going to be hard to dry unless a fan is installed) but if it's on the walls of the rooms, then you've got a pretty damp flat
4. water pressure and hot water. i love our shower. it spits out hot water like it was just installed yesterday. amazing for those cold winter days.
5. the state of the shower. grotty showers are a no no. also, look for water damage like rotting floorboards
6. the washing machine. we had an antique which eventually broke down. but it took them a week to replace. so try and avoid a flat with a crappy washing machine that is about to break down. i almost ran out of underwear.
7. check the general age of the appliances such as the fridge, microwave, washing machine, stove, etc. our stove is broken. so ask the current tennants if they've had any problems with their appliances.
8. security would be nice. locks, etc etc.
9. sunlight. very, very important. without that sliver of light, the flat will have an arctic feel to it. ask how much sunlight they get. it's free heating essentially.
10. the bigger and pretty looking flats are often the flats which are the hardest to heat and have absolutely NO insulation. you will freeze. so, it depends if you consider the aesthetics important.
11. any odd smells? i.e. overpowering fumes from nearby places?
12. what is the landlord like? best to have a nice one who gets things done promptly.
13. don't have your hopes riding on a gorgeous looking flat. to be honest, most of the ones in dunedin are not perfect. the nicer ones will be nowhere near campus. i gave up my dreams of a window seat... (it was always a dream to have a window seat with a thick stack of books like Pride and Prejudice within an arm's reach... sadly, this is not the case)
14. if the flat is unfurnished, weigh up the costs (i will say that you will end up saving more IF the rent is lower for an unfurnished flat and you are buying your own furniture... do the math)
15. don't settle for an outrageous price. $130 is pushing it. honestly.
16. if you find a flat you like, don't be slow in expressing interest. people will literally race you to the phone and often, the landlord will pick whoever called first. for us, it was a matter of mere minutes. apparently, someone else left a message ten minutes after we left a message for the landlord, expressing our interest. it probably helped that we sprinted to the phone as soon as we finished viewing the flat.

also, i would suggest all people to look at the flats on Dundas. once you visit, you realise that ALL other flats are superior. some of those flats looked like war zones. scary as.
and my diatribe is done.

I tried, but I couldn't.

today, i learnt that toast is slippery. see, i had managed for the first time in two weeks to wake up in time to cook a decent breakfast. so, it was with great intrepidation that i decided to cook some scrambled eggs. i managed to cook the damn thing to the right consistency and with a flourish, swept the mixture onto my toast. my memory goes a little fuzzy here because i can't actually remember why i decided to hold my plate at an angle. but i just did. and my beautiful egg fell into the sink. being a thrifty Asian, i decided that sink egg is better than no egg. and picked it out of the sink (which had dirty dishes) and ate it as if nothing had happened.
so. toast is slippery. don't forget that.

i have come to the conclusion that i have no structure to these blogs. and unlike the organised bloggers around me, i don't actually have a plan about what i write.

ooh. i should also mention now that i find it awesomely queer how all the motels along George St always, always display "No vacancy". i mean, it's Dunedin. who the hell finds Dunedin worth their time. sorry, let me re-phrase that. i had no idea that a significant amount of people found Dunedin that fascinating. i'm not bashing Dunedin. it's just that it's kind of a hole. compared to let's say, Christchurch or Wellington. the tourist attractions available:
- Larnach Castle (which is sad once you realise that you can't take photos inside the building)
- the peninsula (albatrosses are just so interesting as is getting sea sick as most land terrestrials are apt to doing)
- the Octagon. which actually doesn't have eight sides. that's such an anticlimax
- the university clocktower, which i do admit, is rather pretty looking. but so are the dozen of clocktowers around the country. i mean, even Milton has a clock (which also tells the temperature. whoa)
- the penguin colony. enough said.
- Otago Museum (there are a gazillion museums around the country better. Auckland, Te Papa...)
i think the fact that the All Blacks visited the Wall Street mall as part of their leisurely excursion while in Dunedin explains the lack of tourist attractions available. this is Wall Street. the mall which has zero stores (near zero) and a "fucking massive pharmacy" (see the Capping Show skit for further reference).

what else is there? i could digress, but i've realised the ability to digress comes from having to do something else, but knowing that by digressing, you can delay doing it. digressing and procrastination are not synonymous. rather, they're proportional. the more procrastination you uh, have to do, the more able you are to digress. and right now, i don't want to procrastinate. therefore, i cannot digress.

the end.

Senses (and Sensibility)

I like to sniff things. In fact, i told my flat mates this morning that i was a very olfactory person. If that makes sense (oh, ha, pun unintended). Case in point: this morning while we were on our merry jaunt to barnett, a sheep truck rocks on by in all its smelly splendor. And honestly, it smells baaaaad. My good friend from Scargill Valley says that it is the most beautiful smell ever. I personally prefer sniffing (clean) boys, my own bed (those two are completely unrelated) and the flat when my flatmate decides to bake. i digress...
Anyway, there is a secret to breathing fresh air when a sheep truck drives past you. And amateurs walking along Great King Street will soon realise that holding your breath as the truck goes on by is not a good idea. At that point instead, one should take a deep breath and proceed to hold it for about five seconds. See, the smell doesn't hit you until the truck has passed you a good ten metres down the road. Aerial sheep dung and uh, essence probably take longer to travel in air. Except, that doesn't make any sense because if it has more mass, it will have more momentum. Hmm...

(i should probably say at this point that i am no way criticising sheep or sheep trucks or farms. They are important to our economy. plus NZ lamb is way better than Australian).

also, i am the annoying person who you will find in a supermarket standing in your way when you're trying to grab a shampoo or bodywash off the shelf, because i am too busy trying to sniff which one will be best... like a wine connoisseur.

Sense and Sensibility is also a book which i have never fully enjoyed. possibly because i read it as a pretentious eight year old and didn't at the point, understand the dynamics between males and females. in fact, Pride and Prejudice is hilarious when it comes to such matters. who knew that Caroline Bingley was such a desperate flirt? i mean, who walks around the room in front of their crush in order to show off their body? i certainly have never done such a thing in my life. Elizabeth Bennet's method was way more interesting. being opinionated is infectious.

today i also learnt that after enduring statistics for an entire year at the cost of calculus, it was a complete waste of time because i can't recall anything from seventh form stats. oh, the shame. so let that be a lesson to all you eager health scis out there. do not take stats because you don't use it until you get into a professional course and by then, it doesn't matter even if you got scholarship. everything is gone (apart from skills on how to use Excel).

in fact, nothing is in my head at the moment. apart from the thought "i am hungry" which is bouncing off the walls in my head. i should really stop the echoes in my brain.

I do so love to digress

These thoughts randomly occurred to me today:

1. Ever since Sophie Elliot's murder, people have been kicking up a fuss about relationships between lecturers and students. The question is, why? Yes, Clayton Weatherston is one narcissistic psycho, but he had followed university guidelines set by notifying the department so that he wouldn't mark her papers. It begs the question: what are we trying to say? That

a) lecturers are incapable of having a relationship with students without it ending badly
OR
b) lecturers are incapable of having relationships full stop?

Option a) does not make any sense. In fact it's a trick question. By picking a), you are picking b). By saying that lecturers are incapable of having a relationship with students without it ending badly, you are saying that lecturers are not capable of being in a relationship, be it with anyone, at all. What makes a relationship between a lecturer and a student so special? It shouldn't be. A person is a person, regardless of their status. Thus, the relationship shouldn't be different compared to one between two students or two lecturers. One must also remember that this isn't the first time that one person has murdered their partner. But you don't see people kicking up a furore about relationships in general. You take the plunge, you take a chance. And unfortunately, Weatherston turned out to be a psychotic jerk who deserves to serve his entire sentence in jail.
Also, it begs the question. Are there more Clayton Weatherstons working in the university?

2. Why on earth is there such an intense rivalry between med and dent students? Honestly. i went to the Med Revue (it was not worth my $10... perhaps due to the fact that i'm not one) and dent students scored the most hits. In hindsight, i should've kept a tally. as much as i'd like to sit on my high horse and say that as a pharmacist, i am above such power plays, i do admit that i have on the occasion, mocked med lab science students. it's a lovely pecking order. the question is, who the hell decided the order? and it's fucking annoying. especially when one is around health scis. because they automatically ask "oh, was pharmacy your first choice?" when one tells them that one is a pharmacist. i would like to say that it will be the pharmacist that saves the doctor's arse when he or she accidentally prescribes alprostadil to a sickle cell anaemic.

3. i was sad that i didn't get the bigger room in the flat last year. i am now grateful because i'm closer to the heat pump. enough said.

4. why why why does my lecturer require me to memorise what each cytochrome P450 family metabolises?

5. i dislike grammatical errors. i don't know what annoys me more
a) people using 'your' instead of 'you're' and vice versa
OR
b) people spelling 'definitely' wrong. the variations include 'definately', 'defiantly', amongst others.
Except, i can't really complain because it would make me a massive hypocrite if i make a grammatical error. even if i did it by accident. also, i don't have the biggest faith in my grasp of the english language. i'd like to say at this point that it is my second language to exonerate myself from any future errors i will make.

6. i don't know why, but words are disappearing from my mind. at least three times a day, i will struggle to find a word that i know the meaning of, know the starting letter and have probably used before, but not remember the rest of the letters. either it's from the lack of essays i have been writing or i'm getting more dumb or, as i would prefer, it is a result of the general anaesthesia. my mother claims that if i get another hernia and require surgery, i will be even more retarded than i already am. lovely woman, isn't she. she also says that if i keep on blowing my nose that hard, i will get another hernia and thus, my intelligence is at stake. i think she just wants me to keep quiet in the mornings and does so by holding my brains over my head. metaphorically speaking, of course.

i really should go study something. like those cytochrome P45o families.

An opinion

Really, i should give up writing these blogs. This is my second one to date and i never cease to embarrass myself. The first one was immature sounding... and this one just whines. Or cries. The reason why we write blogs... and why we always keep changing them or starting new ones could be

1) out of pure boredom.
2) a blog feels good to one's narcissistic nature. It always feels good to know that other people are going to read your drivel, which leads to
3) a sense of self importance and also
4) a way to advertise characteristics of oneself... which leads back to 2) and also explains why i keep on starting new blogs because i really don't want people reading the crappier crap and then realise that i'm not as intelligent/Asian/mature/any other adjective you see fit as they thought

and i realise that i have nothing else constructive to say. apart from the fact that some claim that blogs allow the true nature of a person to show through because they're completely anonymous. this is bullshit.
really, who is going to be who they really are whilst writing a blog? of course you're going to play up some part of you to appeal to your readers. like right now, i'm sticking with the opinionated Asian tone because i want you to think of me that way. i could digress and talk about my love of House and how i want to shoe shop tomorrow, but i really don't want you to think that i'm just another clothes obsessed shopaholic with no skills except how to swipe my card properly on those irritating eftpos machines.
(i will digress here and mention that i always swipe my card with the strip facing the wrong way. is there a secret to knowing which way?)

i secretly envy how some people can sound
a) amusing
b) intelligent
in their blogs at the same time. alas, this is not for me. so, laugh a little. if not with me, than at me will also suffice.