Wednesday, September 17, 2008

emotastic.

i'm unmotivated. depressed. failing to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

honours is getting me down this week. i spent six weeks dedicated to my last assignment - researching, forming my methodology, begging for meetings with my supervisors and making stuff up in the interim. my first supervisor is ok, he doesn't have much idea of an end point, but painstakingly feeds me minute aliquots of information i would have benefited from weeks prior. my second supervisor? we had a meeting this week. prior to that, i haven't seen or heard from her in six weeks - she's had a full teaching load. to you, i say pish. you are my supervisor and you should damn well act like one. i run the depression monopoly around here. i have an assignment on giardia - for those of you who don't know, its a parasite that likes your insides, and you find it in poo. of marsupials, among numerous other animals. and that's what some lovely researchers have spent their time doing - analysing poo. sounds just like my life. honours is a fun time. and this assignment tops it - i just can't get motivated about poo. told you i was depressed.

to top it off, i'm not happy where i'm living as i can't prove my address to get youth allowance, as my landlord (who is unfortunately an old friend) wants a tax break by not reporting my rent as income. so i can't pay my rent, but he fails to see that as a lose-lose situation. don't make your problems my problems, he says. i'm better friends with his little brother than i have been with him in years. i'm getting a job next week. call centres need to die in a burninating chemical fire.

i could have been living in a huge nerd mansion down the gold coast in wanksville - which, no, wouldn't have made me any less depressed, but there's always something heartening about being depressed whilst swanning by a marble-encrusted pool next to a bullshark-infested canal. and why am i not there? why am i such a depressive, disheartened cynic? because people can't commit.

me, my parents always taught me that if you commit to something, you have to go through with it. which is why i guess i'm still at uni, and living in a house i can't afford. the irony is... ironic. i don't know why it frustrates me so to see this ability so lacking in other people, but it makes me want to shake them. from the people who pulled out of the mansion the day we were to sign the lease so that noone got to play in the theatre room or with the huge pool table, to my supervisor who volunteered to manage an honours student, knowing full well she was already manically busy educating the ignorant. add to that the fact that she can't organise her way out of a wet paper bag - i want to shake her. and not like a polaroid picture. in a bad, bad, incarcerable way. the most exciting thing that's ever happened to her, which she bragged about at a dinner party (to which those other students were not invited - no, really? they're not on your project - they don't expect to be invited to your home, but to specifically uninvite them is just rude) is that our good prime minister k-rudd's daughter has made breakfast in her kitchen. good for her. clap clap for the handicap.

just call me a cynic.

i'm listening to missy higgins - the sound of white. she's got such a fabulous grasp of the human condition - its sad music, but it always puts me at peace. through identification of her lyrics, her music, or an almost pathological dislike of her chin cleft, she calms my storm. her emotion astounds me.

a good friend asked me on the weekend why i had 'sad eyes'. as we were out to dinner, i brushed it off. i need to have a good chat to him. he knows me too well - its scary. as it is, the majority of a block of old gold jamaica rum and raisin chocolate has made its way into my system today - a fact that makes me feel better, and the damage of which is negated by the half hour i spent on the stair master last night.

so here i sit, sad music, sad face, sad bank balance, sadly empty packet of chocolate, and tragically empty document that needs to be filled with a critique on poo. gotta love it.

1 Comments:

Blogger Liam said...

Pfft, that's not sad. What's sad is that I didn't dress as a pirate on TLAP day for the first time in three years and spent the day at home. I didn't even talk like a pirate.

All I did was put a pseudo comment on facebook which cheapened the holiday for me.

My emo could fight your emo any day of the week...and still lose...and cry into its livejournal through tormented poetry that no-one ever reads because the journal is set to private due to my emo's crippling self doubt...

9/28/2008 4:54 AM  

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