My girlfriend cut her hair last weekend. A girl I used to date once started crying when I got my hair cut. At first I thought it was because I looked drastically different, but she said it was because a haircut is a desperate sign and she felt she didn't see it coming and therefore must have failed me. It's been a long time since that girl cried because of failure toward me. In fact, with every hour that passes she's letting me down. Bitter? Heh heh...
But my girlfriend's haircut is fantastic. She looks a little less “cutesy” and a little more sexy. I didn't think it was possible for her to be any sexier. I was in the hairdresser's when she got it done, snapping pics (it's been a long while since she cut her hair short, so documenting the change was fun) and enjoying myself. I don't see what's so scary. She seemed stable. And she's always gorgeous.
I met a lot of her Bendigo friends when I last visited; her bike-shop boys, her choir friends, her church friends, her gym friends. I'm so happy she's enjoying her new home. I was always a little apprehensive about whether she'd make the town her own. I needn't have worried. I can't tell if she's a rural girl at heart (she's beginning to suspect she is) or if she's just a dynamic lass with a disposition that means she'll fit in almost anywhere. Except where people want to hurt each other for there own selfish gain. She reported back on a distasteful scenario and it was pleasing, in an odd way, to have her back up my opinions on the tiresome nature of some people.
*shiver*
I probably shouldn't post so much about her, but, well... I'm crazy about her, so there's very little I like better than to chirp about how incredible she is to whoever will listen. Sorry if you find that annoying. It can't be helped.
One thing that is annoying is the Art Style series released for Wiiware. I've wasted countless hours on Cubello and intend to wast countless more on Orbient when I purchase it next week. I don't think I've had so much fun for $7.50 in a while, when it comes to gaming. It's terribly irksome to have such an addictive source of entertainment beside my bed. Of course getting these titles can mean only one thing... My Wii is now connected to the internet! Yay. If anyone is interested in getting my friend code, just gimme a buzz.
The real procrastination sources are the people around me. I had a long chat with a friend last night and I hope she'll listen to my advice. She continuously subjects herself to some pretty unhealthy situations and she feels trapped. She has a lot of people trying to help her, so if she doesn't feel like doing it for herself, then she should at least respect the legions of people who care about her.
Hmmm... I didn't want this post to be quite so heavy...
Never mind.
I just got back from church and finished off a fantastic conversation with a friend I hadn't seen for a long time. We both had a bitch about a mutual friend, then a brain-storm on how to tell them they're... an idiot, I guess. Now I'm faced with a world of lab preparation that I haven't done. I think an early morning session is the only solution. I think I'm tired enough to sleep, so I'll do that. Sweet dreams.
I must post this in the morning, as I've just run out of internet quota. Meh.
If you've got the time, please come say hello,
TheSovietChairman
Monday 30 March 2009
Friday 20 March 2009
Thursday 19 March 2009
Tuesday 17 March 2009
*Ding* Washing's finished...
Good news, everyone! My Mother 3 Handbook is nearly ready to ship! That's more exclamation marks than I've ever used in a post before (probably). Unfortunately it'll be shipping to the family home, so I'll have to make a trip back there sometime soon. It's not that I don't like them, it's just that it takes a while to get there and back and it's in the opposite direction to my wonderful girl. The thought of being further away from her isn't a pleasant one (even though there isn't a difference in practical terms).
Oh, yes... Happy St. Pat's Day! Let's get Irish (i.e. talk about our Irish ancestry and drink Guinness)! And in my case, I'm bringing out the green nail polish.
Wow. Too many exclamation marks. I feel dizzy. Although it could just be the strange, Chinese medicine that my friend just gave me. That's the "benefit" of living in an international college; you get eighteen different remedies from ten different cultures, no matter what ails you.
This time it was something sweet in my drink and a big, saffron-coloured tablet. Ah, well. If they aren't really helping, then the placebo effect has really kicked in. All I'm left with is a bothersome cough. My throat feels a little better (still keeping up the cough drops) and my stomach has moved into line. In general terms, I'm secreting a lot less.
Well, my laundry is done. Time to fold it, I suppose.
Missing you,
TheSovietChairman
Oh, yes... Happy St. Pat's Day! Let's get Irish (i.e. talk about our Irish ancestry and drink Guinness)! And in my case, I'm bringing out the green nail polish.
Wow. Too many exclamation marks. I feel dizzy. Although it could just be the strange, Chinese medicine that my friend just gave me. That's the "benefit" of living in an international college; you get eighteen different remedies from ten different cultures, no matter what ails you.
This time it was something sweet in my drink and a big, saffron-coloured tablet. Ah, well. If they aren't really helping, then the placebo effect has really kicked in. All I'm left with is a bothersome cough. My throat feels a little better (still keeping up the cough drops) and my stomach has moved into line. In general terms, I'm secreting a lot less.
Well, my laundry is done. Time to fold it, I suppose.
Missing you,
TheSovietChairman
Sunday 15 March 2009
Procrastination Nation
"I don't even know the location of the bike sheds"
--School Uniforms, The Wombats
All it took was some progress on an assignment to get me comfortable with the idea of taking a break, then some clever lyrics, and now look at me (figuratively). I'm posting about nothing in particular.
Actually, what has taken my fancy at this moment is the clever soundtrack to 2D BOY's, World of Goo, by Kyle Gabler. So many clever musical moments; from the witty Red Carpet Extend-o-matic to the epic finale of World of Goo Ending. Definitely worth a look-see. And it's distributed free. Couldn't really ask for more, 'ey?
Speaking of free soundtracks (or not), one that is worth paying for is the Mother 3+ album. You'll find fantastic renditions of D.C.M.C.'s hits by the Crazy Ken Band and a vocal version of Theme of Love by Taeko Onuki. The Mother 3i album may have more of the main songs and themes, but the + album is worth it for those who really fell for the D.C.M.C. troop. I especially like track 5, Mr. Great's Theme/A Great Person's Theme/Big shot's Theme (too many translations!). It's a hilarious parody of the auspicious theme of the Pig Mask Army/Porky himself.
Tonda Gossa!
Well, I finally designed my own button for the link to the Mother 3 translation page (the black one in the side bar). It's almost identical to the old one, but with the official heading graphic and nicer anti-aliasing on the text. It's also lacking the official motto: "Strange. Funny. Heartrending." It's a fantastically appropriate motto, but it just wouldn't fit.
My sister just called. She's about to help me with my essay.
Much love,
TheSovietChairman
--School Uniforms, The Wombats
All it took was some progress on an assignment to get me comfortable with the idea of taking a break, then some clever lyrics, and now look at me (figuratively). I'm posting about nothing in particular.
Actually, what has taken my fancy at this moment is the clever soundtrack to 2D BOY's, World of Goo, by Kyle Gabler. So many clever musical moments; from the witty Red Carpet Extend-o-matic to the epic finale of World of Goo Ending. Definitely worth a look-see. And it's distributed free. Couldn't really ask for more, 'ey?
Speaking of free soundtracks (or not), one that is worth paying for is the Mother 3+ album. You'll find fantastic renditions of D.C.M.C.'s hits by the Crazy Ken Band and a vocal version of Theme of Love by Taeko Onuki. The Mother 3i album may have more of the main songs and themes, but the + album is worth it for those who really fell for the D.C.M.C. troop. I especially like track 5, Mr. Great's Theme/A Great Person's Theme/Big shot's Theme (too many translations!). It's a hilarious parody of the auspicious theme of the Pig Mask Army/Porky himself.
Tonda Gossa!
Well, I finally designed my own button for the link to the Mother 3 translation page (the black one in the side bar). It's almost identical to the old one, but with the official heading graphic and nicer anti-aliasing on the text. It's also lacking the official motto: "Strange. Funny. Heartrending." It's a fantastically appropriate motto, but it just wouldn't fit.
My sister just called. She's about to help me with my essay.
Much love,
TheSovietChairman
Wednesday 11 March 2009
Morning tute prep and Noises in the park
This is the first time this semester I've felt like I could have done things better (in terms of study). As we're only two weeks in, this isn't a good start. I'm confident however that I'll be back on track by the end of the day. That's good news indeed. Morning tutorial preparation is a shameful act.
Last night I decided I'd visit a friend, despite knowing I had several hours of work to do for class the next day. dinner had been light on at college, so to take my mind of the rumblings I took up my bike and rode across the park to see how his final year project was coming along. When I climbed the staircase and entered his room I found him playing the same RTS I saw him playing when I'd visited the day before. He proceeded to lose the match and I encouraged him to join me in visiting some mutual friends of ours.
When we arrived at their house, they were preparing an evening snack and offered us some home-made curry, which we couldn't turn down and made us an Earl Grey each while we waited for the rice to cook. We concluded that spontaneous visits are a good thing. We sat and chatted and watched the first half of My Fair Lady for the benefit of several people in our company who had never seen it. We talked of rotten SPAM and lolly snakes and just after the scene at the races we decided to return home so we could each start the work that was due the next day.
After escorting him back to his house, I sped through the park until I reached the very centre. Something made me stop cold. There was screaming. Periodic screaming. Someone was having fun and it was echoing off the walls of the zoo. The only visible sign of life I could find was a parked Ute. The screaming took a higher pitch, then stopped abruptly. I hoped and prayed that the enjoyment was being shared by all involved. I waited as my mind entered the dark places that male minds often frequent and although I didn't want to pull any heroics or ruin an otherwise magical (for them) encounter, I wasn't going to risk leaving a victim alone. My immediate thoughts were concerned with the reason for the location choice; the middle of an empty park, at midnight. When adrenaline hits, the obvious often escapes: The ability to make noise would prove important regardless of whether the act was consensual.
I waited more than five minutes, without hearing another sound from the direction of the truck. After I relayed my position and status to my beloved, I paused a few more minutes, until the truck turned on its engine and started to pull away. That seemed a positive sign. No one was screaming and it seemed as the truck backed 'round that there were two figures seated in the front. The truck pulled out of the car park and drove straight toward me, along the road. Once the vehicle got close enough that I could see above the glare of the headlights, my eyes sought out the face of the woman. She was laughing. My mind was at ease.
I hope I didn't ruin their night.
*sigh*
Back to the books, I guess.
Have fun, everyone,
TheSovietChairman
Last night I decided I'd visit a friend, despite knowing I had several hours of work to do for class the next day. dinner had been light on at college, so to take my mind of the rumblings I took up my bike and rode across the park to see how his final year project was coming along. When I climbed the staircase and entered his room I found him playing the same RTS I saw him playing when I'd visited the day before. He proceeded to lose the match and I encouraged him to join me in visiting some mutual friends of ours.
When we arrived at their house, they were preparing an evening snack and offered us some home-made curry, which we couldn't turn down and made us an Earl Grey each while we waited for the rice to cook. We concluded that spontaneous visits are a good thing. We sat and chatted and watched the first half of My Fair Lady for the benefit of several people in our company who had never seen it. We talked of rotten SPAM and lolly snakes and just after the scene at the races we decided to return home so we could each start the work that was due the next day.
After escorting him back to his house, I sped through the park until I reached the very centre. Something made me stop cold. There was screaming. Periodic screaming. Someone was having fun and it was echoing off the walls of the zoo. The only visible sign of life I could find was a parked Ute. The screaming took a higher pitch, then stopped abruptly. I hoped and prayed that the enjoyment was being shared by all involved. I waited as my mind entered the dark places that male minds often frequent and although I didn't want to pull any heroics or ruin an otherwise magical (for them) encounter, I wasn't going to risk leaving a victim alone. My immediate thoughts were concerned with the reason for the location choice; the middle of an empty park, at midnight. When adrenaline hits, the obvious often escapes: The ability to make noise would prove important regardless of whether the act was consensual.
I waited more than five minutes, without hearing another sound from the direction of the truck. After I relayed my position and status to my beloved, I paused a few more minutes, until the truck turned on its engine and started to pull away. That seemed a positive sign. No one was screaming and it seemed as the truck backed 'round that there were two figures seated in the front. The truck pulled out of the car park and drove straight toward me, along the road. Once the vehicle got close enough that I could see above the glare of the headlights, my eyes sought out the face of the woman. She was laughing. My mind was at ease.
I hope I didn't ruin their night.
*sigh*
Back to the books, I guess.
Have fun, everyone,
TheSovietChairman
Monday 9 March 2009
Beautiful
First she gave me her scent, then put my mind at ease about my own. Her peanut butter cookies are still making me smile. We went shopping for gym pants, and I faced the tedious task of examining each one in detail. Heh heh. Or at least, drooling over each one in detail. It's a tough life. We then enjoyed yum cha with some of her med friends. Saturday evening we went to a festival by the river and took in the bright colours, the smell of over-priced food and the fireworks display. Saturday night we strolled back, iced-tea in hand, though the city and an obnoxious pervert hassled her, but ran away before anything could be done. We woke up late Sunday morning and went for a bike ride into town to organise tickets for the movie in the evening. I then donned my best kit and rocked up to the wedding of some friends. I read 1 Corinthians 12:31-13:13; the usual, but still beautiful. Afterwards we napped until I had to be at the reception (Peking Duck - delicious) and she took my sister out to dinner at one of the usual college student haunts - a Thai place nearby. After the reception we all met up, along with some other friends for the movie. It had violence, it had nudity and it was... thought-provoking. Certainly entertaining, but made the stomach churn in places. The reel cut out 45 seconds before the end of the movie. We got free tickets after we complained.
This morning we were weighed down by the immediacy of her departure. My heart cracked a little. When she smiles, I laugh, when she frowns, I sob.
It was a beautiful weekend. She's too beautiful for me, but I thank God that she hasn't figured that out. I pray she never does.
This morning we were weighed down by the immediacy of her departure. My heart cracked a little. When she smiles, I laugh, when she frowns, I sob.
It was a beautiful weekend. She's too beautiful for me, but I thank God that she hasn't figured that out. I pray she never does.
Wednesday 4 March 2009
My new home
I don't think I've felt as immediately happy with a place as I have with my new residence at college this year. Unlike the other buildings that make up this place, my new building actually feels like a house, rather than student accommodation.
Here's a view of my window, my balcony and my tree.
Enjoy.
Here's a view of my window, my balcony and my tree.
Enjoy.
Monday 2 March 2009
VSS I: Compensation
The look on his face tore all the way through her. She thought to herself that her soul (if it did exist) was being crippled daily, just by being in his presence.
She left home with a shudder each morning and returned unsure if she'd have the strength to face what was left of him; the part which had muddied the convenience and social standing to which she was accustomed. He had always been drastically different from her in a way that seemed charming at first, but just became awkward after a while. She had once told herself that she was in love with him. It was all too easy to assume that this was only because there just wasn't anyone else. She wasn't a girl who had crushes. She fell in love with concepts, but rarely did a man catch her attention. A gallery or a coffee shop or a boutique or a philosophical question or a look shared between a bus driver and a school boy could hold her heart for a day, but it was impractical to share a heart with something so complex as another human being. And she had to be practical.
Perhaps that was where it started. She longed to return to her former state; a state in which her own plans could flourish and she would always receive the accolades. Why should anyone share in her vision? She'd never needed that and it seemed to her that it was only by accident that he was there at all. She just needed to reverse what had happened. She just had to figure out exactly what that was.
She'd reached out to him. At least a little. His vulnerability had brought out her own. It seemed obvious that the opposite of that first catalyst would be to fling him back into his ocean of insecurity (everyone has a pond or a pool of it in the back yard, or at their parents' house, but his ocean spilled into other people's lives as he bobbed to stay afloat). She'd come at a time when he had nearly given up trying to keep his head above water.
She did just that. It scared her for a moment, watching his face contort and his body fold in two. She'd had to replace the rug in the lounge room because of the blood stains. Everything hadn't exactly gone to plan. He still lingered. He wasn't holding her back socially anymore, but it was uncomfortable to be in her own home for too long. He left trails where he walked, as blood lead from the bedroom, the bathroom and the lounge to the kitchen and finishing back at the bedroom. Although the trail never ventured near the front door.
She lost sleep thinking of him patrolling the corridors. She wasn't scared. It just wasn't a pleasant thought. He never even knocked on her door. At first he tried to make eye contact, but it had been months since he'd last tried. She once caught him looking through her photo albums.
At work she couldn't keep still. When coworkers asked her questions, she ushered them out of the office with the first answer she could find. The company of other people made her nervous. She didn't want to give away what was weighing on her mind.
She took her time getting her things together at the end of the day as she looked out the office windows at the trees that stood nearly doubled over from the wind. She thought of when his body had done the same. It just couldn't continue. She needed a long-term solution. She walked through the park, past the gates of the Botanical Gardens. A cyclist in a grey uniform cut her off on the track and she jumped to the side. Her eyes followed his back pack as he skidded around the corner. He jumped the side of the path to take a short cut through a grove of trees. Screams came from the foliage. She shivered, then pulled the collar of her jacket up and hunched against the wind. It didn't cover her ears, but at least her neck wasn't so cold. she rounded the other side of the trees and saw his bike, one wheel missing. She looked down at the path and noticed she'd scraped her shoes on the gravel track. "Shit," she swore and quickened her pace.
Her mind raced. Was she strong enough to force him out of her home? Was it time to get the police involved? Or should she just file a law suit against him? The image of him pacing never left her. Surely this warranted some kind of compensation. So many areas of her life had changed for the worse because of him. How could he be so selfish?
It was all ok, though. When she walked through the front door she found him sitting down. He was seated at the kitchen table, face down on a newspaper with one arm resting on the table and the other limp by his side. Apparently he'd starved to death.
She left home with a shudder each morning and returned unsure if she'd have the strength to face what was left of him; the part which had muddied the convenience and social standing to which she was accustomed. He had always been drastically different from her in a way that seemed charming at first, but just became awkward after a while. She had once told herself that she was in love with him. It was all too easy to assume that this was only because there just wasn't anyone else. She wasn't a girl who had crushes. She fell in love with concepts, but rarely did a man catch her attention. A gallery or a coffee shop or a boutique or a philosophical question or a look shared between a bus driver and a school boy could hold her heart for a day, but it was impractical to share a heart with something so complex as another human being. And she had to be practical.
Perhaps that was where it started. She longed to return to her former state; a state in which her own plans could flourish and she would always receive the accolades. Why should anyone share in her vision? She'd never needed that and it seemed to her that it was only by accident that he was there at all. She just needed to reverse what had happened. She just had to figure out exactly what that was.
She'd reached out to him. At least a little. His vulnerability had brought out her own. It seemed obvious that the opposite of that first catalyst would be to fling him back into his ocean of insecurity (everyone has a pond or a pool of it in the back yard, or at their parents' house, but his ocean spilled into other people's lives as he bobbed to stay afloat). She'd come at a time when he had nearly given up trying to keep his head above water.
She did just that. It scared her for a moment, watching his face contort and his body fold in two. She'd had to replace the rug in the lounge room because of the blood stains. Everything hadn't exactly gone to plan. He still lingered. He wasn't holding her back socially anymore, but it was uncomfortable to be in her own home for too long. He left trails where he walked, as blood lead from the bedroom, the bathroom and the lounge to the kitchen and finishing back at the bedroom. Although the trail never ventured near the front door.
She lost sleep thinking of him patrolling the corridors. She wasn't scared. It just wasn't a pleasant thought. He never even knocked on her door. At first he tried to make eye contact, but it had been months since he'd last tried. She once caught him looking through her photo albums.
At work she couldn't keep still. When coworkers asked her questions, she ushered them out of the office with the first answer she could find. The company of other people made her nervous. She didn't want to give away what was weighing on her mind.
She took her time getting her things together at the end of the day as she looked out the office windows at the trees that stood nearly doubled over from the wind. She thought of when his body had done the same. It just couldn't continue. She needed a long-term solution. She walked through the park, past the gates of the Botanical Gardens. A cyclist in a grey uniform cut her off on the track and she jumped to the side. Her eyes followed his back pack as he skidded around the corner. He jumped the side of the path to take a short cut through a grove of trees. Screams came from the foliage. She shivered, then pulled the collar of her jacket up and hunched against the wind. It didn't cover her ears, but at least her neck wasn't so cold. she rounded the other side of the trees and saw his bike, one wheel missing. She looked down at the path and noticed she'd scraped her shoes on the gravel track. "Shit," she swore and quickened her pace.
Her mind raced. Was she strong enough to force him out of her home? Was it time to get the police involved? Or should she just file a law suit against him? The image of him pacing never left her. Surely this warranted some kind of compensation. So many areas of her life had changed for the worse because of him. How could he be so selfish?
It was all ok, though. When she walked through the front door she found him sitting down. He was seated at the kitchen table, face down on a newspaper with one arm resting on the table and the other limp by his side. Apparently he'd starved to death.
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