Kids trying to figure out old technology (to be fair I didn’t know some of the things). And the fact that they’re French just makes it cuter for some reason.
Pon & Zi
The Official Vuvuzela-song music video (10 points for recognising the location)
And of course, some random guy in Brazil playing it on his keyboard…
I often wonder whether the university offering free therapy is creepy or reassuring. What I can say is that it’s useful. There are times when you want or need to talk to someone and there are no friends who you want to burden with that information. and sometimes the issues are private.
A lot of things happened over the weekend. I had a fun Friday night with the girls, a fun Saturday afternoon playing the drums and learning to read guitar tabs for bass guitar. And then I headed off to two different birthday parties.
So anyway I was standing in Goth-world late on Saturday night, struggling to blink through the weight of my eyeliner, having just discovered that my usual leaping around on the dance floor is nearly impossible while wearing 4-inch heels (logic I know, but I can run in them so I figured I could dance in them…) when I saw a friend of mine giving the barman a lesson.
The friend in question is a bartender, and in general he’s pretty good. He’s the type who remembers your name, gets you ‘the usual’ after about two orders and has listened to me whining about the latest drama in my life often enough. He’s a nice guy.
But seeing him bossing around someone twice his age, with instructions that were actually a load of rubbish just to impress the latest in his adoring legion of female followers really got on my nerves.
And I thought: I don’t want this anymore.
I’m tired of going out all weekend and being exhausted on Mondays. I’m tired of going to places that only open after 10pm. I’m tired of dressing up and being the life and soul of the party when all I really want to do is sit on the couch and watch a movie.
Other stuff happened too. The weekend went steadily downhill and I ended up spending Sunday evening crying on La’s shoulder while she was amazingly patient and more open-minded than me.
I have a lot to think about at the moment, and a lot of pretty big decisions to make. The scary thing is that if it wasn’t my situation I’d have all the answers. I know what I should do, but not what I want to do. And I need to figure out how to get the two to combine and result in what I will do.
Bring on the therapy.
I don’t want to talk about the joys of studying in an institution that seems determined to keep me from graduating by charging exorbitant amounts of money just so that I can register to be tied here for the next year. Not to mention their not paying/underpaying/ not refunding money I spend on work means that I end up teaching for nothing and spending a lot of time doing things that won’t help me to graduate. AAAARGH.
So on a lighter note
I was looking for something in my old emails and found this on an old chat-log:
Oracle: we make such a great team: the Oracle and the Super-enlightened
we should go save the world.
i cover the world in fairy dust and you can give people music taste ;)
just think of the lives we would save- and the cool outfits
you already have the sparkles!
me: I do! we can sparkle-dust the world!
while playing cool music
with hats...
You rock! And when you submit your masters and I have a few hapter drafts sent off we will have a celebratory Glee marathon!
It’s not secret that I find cheesy choreographed dance routines adorable and this is totally my new favourite!
It even overtakes the hustle (I love you headless-hustle-man!)
And that is bearing in mind the hustle scene in Vampires Suck.
And that is all.
I remember on my 21st birthday (not the party, the actual birthday) my grandparents and aunt came for lunch and each of them told the stories of what they’d been doing the day I was born. The reactions, the mundane tasks. My parents had thought I would be a boy (they hadn’t asked the doctor but both suspected for some reason) so when I was a girl my dad ran out and got me a pink dress. My aunt told my brother about me, my mother was relieved that she’d changed her mind about my name (I’m pretty sure I was gripping the sides of the birth canal until she changed her mind) and so on.
So while I was attempting to stumble along the treadmill last night (darned festive season got me again) I thought about what I could tell little A when she gets old enough to ask about the day she came along.
Do I tell her:
