And to be honest, Internet, it doesn't feel very good.
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The woman with the fake tan stepped into my office, sat across from my desk and lit a cigarette.
At least, she would, sometime in the next 20 minutes. Smelling the future has advantages, but precision isn’t one of them.
I have been told lately that my journal isn't that likeable. I have also been given the impression that I'm much more likeable than I think I am, which made me curious.
In the interest of satisfying both issues, here are a whole bunch of quizes I did!
Quote:
of course your likable but not many know because u either push them away or u just dont kno how to talk to people and they think u are rude
Take this r u likable?!
Quote:
you are likeable but only by girls dont rate
Quote:
You're very likeable... people should be dying to be around you and you fill people with so much joy :D
1 other people got this result!
This quiz has been taken 1 times.
100% of people had this result.
This one you get good results in if you agree that someone with the name Yri is stupid and possibly a "bimbo".
Quote:
I love you. You are perfect! I want to be just like
you<3
Quote:
People think You smell like Poo. You need to take a
shower and wash your ass.
This person is very bitter about having no social skills and probably being unhealthily overweight.
Quote:
you are so likeable, that everyone like likes you,
and its like really cool, bc then like u have
like a lot of friends!!! and like u are also
most def on the preppy side....oh Godddddddd
pleaz stop.....its making my head
hurting......
Quote:
You are popular, great! the only problem is your
not getting pals for the sort of person you
realy are, you are either being to bossy, a
bit of a bully or you are too vain! just be
your self for a while
Quote:
ey--Everyone Likes You! You have just the right
qualities to attract a lot of friends. Keep
up the good work!
This one is a thinly veiled rant about being cheated on.
Quote:
as if. u bitch, dont lie to me. everyone hates u.
suck my cock
Quote:
EVERYBODY LOVES YOU! you just cant seem to keep
people away from you! you are nice and loyal
to your friends and family! YAY! YOU COULD
PRATICALLY BECOME PRESIDENT!
Are you a likeable kinda person?
I know that I do my best to be non-offensive and respectful to everyone, because sometimes 19 years of Christian indoctrination can have that effect on people. I also now know that the best way to make people on the internet think you're likeable is to say that you like their favourite band when you answer their quizes. I am honestly suprised that this many quizes were on the Internet.
That clears that all up I guess.
Time is relative.
Follow up Lessons:
- Getting drunk is less fun when you don't drink anything
- My father is a strong demonstration of nature over nurture
- Friday is casual day. When you're the only person in a room wearing a shirt and tie and someone comments 'You look smart!' you say 'Well, I don't feel it...'
- If you tuck your hand into your armpit and take a close-up photo of your inner elbow it looks like a bum.
Interesting week...
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You can fit so much more into a day when you aren't hungover and only have one work commitment that day.
It seriously is March.
I paid $11 to have my car washed today by the BP SuperWash. I guess that's a little pricey, but considering it went for about 8 minutes and I loved the hell out of every second of it I think that coming out with a clean car was a bonus!
I believe during my childhood days I was often entertained by televised tales of the lives of mice and other small critters and the adventures to which they belonged. Years later I theorise that this might be the reason that there is a sub-conscious conditioning that being inside anything mechanical is bad. With levers and cogs and hammers moving around everywhere I have been taught that, if I get into this situation, I will be lucky to escape with my tail. So it was with some trepidation that I approached the SuperWash for the first time, primitive instincts urging me to turn back. This was slightly ironic seeing that I was actually already inside a big mechanical object that I was going to be inserting into the even bigger mechanical object.
Whoever designed the SuperWash must have balls of steel. Either that or they drive a van because things get SO CLOSE to the front of your car but never actually nudge it. I just sat there with my music cranked up as the elements (water, air, fucking giant brushes) stormed around my cabin. Exhilarating is a word I could use to describe it. I almost lamented not spending the extra $2 for a deluxe wash because it would probably have lasted even longer.
I want to go back to that SuperWash. I want to get my car dirty. We have unfinished business.
And after being at work at 9am for a whole week I today found it made no difference in how way too hard it is to get up for midday lectures.
The best thing about having no fucking time is that you get everything done so much faster.
After years of being a night shift worker and living the university life, off-peak, I am finally living in a peak world.
I got to the train station a few minutes early this morning, at 8:15am no less and that was despite sustaining a blood nose in the shower that left me nasally-paranoid all day. Today was the busiest I've ever seen the station car-park, and I ended up parking illegally in lieu of missing my train.
I have to give a shout-out of praise to whoever it was that left the pamphlet under my windscreen wipers today. After returning to my vehicle ten hours after I parked it (I was delayed at work by a late meeting, that's how peak I am) there was a small ball of fear, perhaps green-skittle sized, in my chest as I approached. Although secure in knowing that I was at a station where illegal parking was a norm rather than an exception, I was still wary. Of course as I grew closer to my door I scanned the windscreen for tell-tale signs of parking-mischief left behind by council workers. All seemed clear until I spotted the white slip under the passenger side wiper.
I don't think I'll be renovating my kitchen any time soon, but there's not a word on that pamphlet I didn't read just in case the local was hard up for cash enough to advertise on parking tickets. Fortunately someone who is not quite as peak as I am just has a good marketing strategy.
The peak train-ride was free today. For some reason the validation machines weren't working. If this had happened to me last year during the middle of the day, I would have saved less money.
It's hot then it's raining.
Australia set 433 and can't defend it.
Life is confusing.
SPAWN MORE OVERLORDS!
Happy Birthday Website!
I really like you and we've had some good times together. Sometimes I am really happy that I made you. On weekends like these, however, I am frustrated and almost regret that I taught myself to code in PHP.
Today I was terse instead of amiable. Where did I go wrong? Like seriously, I think things are starting to get to me.
It's actually quite interesting, or at least extremely coincidental, that for 2 years I have made this weekend one dedicated to finalising a new website.
Something tells me they used to be too good.
That is my car when they used to be used as Highway Patrol Cars in the 80's. Things were good then.
Filed Under: Nostalgia -> Lego and stuff that reminds me of Lego everyday.
So So busy catchphrase catchphrase
I've noticed that by about 3:30pm, on the days I work from 9, my teeth start to grind and/or generally feel uncomfortable within my jaw. It seems unavoidable as no amount of pre-work stretching or jaw exercises ease the condition. I think its stress, a topic I've harped on once or twice lately in this publication.
My position on stress is that I don't let things get to me. This is easy enough given that I have a 100% record of getting through everything life's thrown at me so far. I think I'm beyond complacency. But stress, as more and more medical reports claim, is apparently not just a mental condition. Physically spending time trying to meet goals before times has physical effects on the body that you can't mind over matter even though you think you should.
I'm happy, I really am. I may not be able to do anything about the physical affects of stress, but nothing stops me destroying the mental aspects.
On the train I came to the conclusion that being a rapper would be the most stressful job in the world. At least with most other stressful jobs they lead to remuneration which leads to goodies. As a rapper you're required to possess a myriad of worthwhile possessions just to be in the game. Where's the reward?
Later on the trip home, I remember thinking about journaling and how I suppose everyone has thoughts about stuff and I'm just one of the many who stops to writes them down. I then reasoned that it was only the really good things I wrote down, and that the rapper insight was probably one of those good things, but after typing it out I realise that it's not very poignant or anything and that I've pumped out an entry that is pretty worthless... It must be the stress...
I've had a lot to think about in the past few weeks. I like thinking on the internet or in front of others or just out loud if I have to, it makes things easier.
One of the things on my list of features to add to Bradism was hidden entries that only I could see. Why I decided that storing things on the internet is more efficient than in my brain... well... time does tell.
As fun as it is to psychoanalyse yourself everyday - and it is - doing it online forces you to engage in much stricter justification for your actions than your brain does when it knows no one else will ever hear your thoughts. Seeing as I haven't had time to code hidden entries nor write down some of the things I've been thinking lately, this is pretty much a summary of the hidden entries that would have been posted over the last fortnight had I ever had the time to code.
Right now my journal feels like it’s been driven ten kilometres below the speed limit to the shops twice a week and to church on Sundays.
Well it's safe to say, as of the end of this weekend it's the start of a new era. That's right, my website now has an RSS feed. Am I good at developing an application or what?
I started my fifth week of in town work this week. This also hailed the beginning of my fifth week of buying my self lunch instead of waking up early enough to make it - something I did actually do once.
With the Summer of Subway drawing to a close as the last of my 80 sub-club cards were handed over, I've had to come to terms with the choice and price of buying lunch from somewhere else. Although it could never match it, I found a café nearby to my office building that came close. A solid range of tasty meals that weren’t hard on the wallet, combined with a quiet table to sit at and a newspaper to read kept me coming back. Coming back… regularly…
I remarked to somebody, on one of those train rides home from work at peak hour where you inevitably sit with someone you know from somewhere, that I was practically becoming a regular at this café. I was excited about it, initially: friendly staff saying hello to me; guesses as to what my order would be; larger portion sizes although that may have been placebo. I envisioned a good future. Perhaps a paper always saved for me, a few extra chips and even, in my wildest dreams, the trust of a tab.
But things were moving too fast. Everyone kept asking how I was when I walked in and I felt predictable, vulnerable. I was creeped out. I started to distance myself, instead seeking more expensive lunches from further away. I tried to go back today and was greeted by their friendly smiles behind which hid a slight defensiveness about my absence. The extra slice of cheese on my burger with the lot revealed how much they liked me and appreciated my patronage.
I scraped the last of my food onto the fork and ate it. Moments later my plate was being collected by the waitress and I was waved a goodbye and wished a happy day. It was at that moment I knew I would never eat there again.
My lunch break stretched slightly over time today due to me having to walk further to find a new place to eat. Trying to cut down my eating time, I skipped reading the newspaper and instead wandered into the Myer Centre food court to try and find something quick. I settled on Spuds, mainly because it was in the corner of the food court away from this stall I'd looked at on before and then the woman asked if I wanted anything and I said "I'm just looking" and then I left.
At spuds, I picked the baked potato I wanted and my potato artist began serving up the toppings I wanted. She was a big one, drooled with all kinds of fatty layers. She also wasn't called a potato artist, I made that up. But she was very ugly and equally over-friendly. When she asked me if I wanted butter I said no and she looked at me with such an overjoyed expression that the only possible explanation was that she wasn't financially remunerated but was instead just fed whatever butter was left over at the end of the day.
My potato was very dry and had obviously been baked straight out of the ground. The chicken was also quite grimy and oily. All in all I didn't enjoy the meal and I was left quite spiteful towards the restaurant and thus wrote this harsh review of it. Following that I quickly went to JB HiFi to purchase Scrubs S3 and Arrested Development S2 on DVD to make myself happy with material goods.
This whole week each lunch time had held so much promise. I could go anywhere, eat anything. Each day was like an empty plate waiting to be ladled upon.
I made plans with Mum to meet her for lunch as she is currently working across the street. A few hours from lunch, however, she called and advised me of a meeting she'd forgotten and I was told she couldn't make it. It was OK though, I could go anywhere; I could eat anything.
1:30 came around and I reflexively locked my workstation and grabbed my glasses. I was in the elevator by the time I realised that I still didn't know where to go. All I knew is that I wanted something cheap, tasty as well as a quiet spot to read the paper and I knew where I could get it very easily.
As I approached the café my heart started beating faster. What was I doing? Why was their breakfast menu still out? Could I break the vow I made? Was I really coming back here for the cause of another journal entry.
I walked in and joined the line. There were no smiling faces from behind the counter. The mid-50's woman who works the grill and asks 'how are you' brushed past me to clear some plates and possibly dropped her shoulder. It had been too many days.
Oh God. They know about the journal. They've read it and they're going to kill me. I knew it was a bad idea to try and increase Google ad clicks by markering 'Bradism.com' on my money.
I ordered and went to buy a paper while it was prepared - the café was out. I sat to wait and my sandwich did not come quickly. When it did arrive, I was asked if I'd like cutlery. Suddenly the adrenaline left. I wasn't predictable. I wasn't a regular. I was normal. Lunch was still nice and after I got my bill I still had cash left for a Coke Zero. No one said "seeya next time" as they collected my plate and I sighed contentedly to myself as I scooped my change back in my wallet. One clink of a coin stopped time.
Four dollars change...
I looked up at the menu, the world slowly going out of focus and spinning behind me. '$6.90'.
I opened my mouth but no words came out. The man behind the counter winked at me.
'To pay for the paper', he smiled.
Wordlessly, I put my sunglasses on my head, walked out the door. It was at that moment I knew I would never eat there again.