2013 - I want a refund.

It's been a pretty shit year in all honesty.  So I've been playing the absentee card from my blog here, because who knows what kinda crazy I'm liable to spew out when I'm emotional.

Enough of that though, I actually have something I want to talk about.  I thought about it on the train to uni this morning, and I remember thinking "man, I should write this down so I remember to write a blog about it later because this is an awesome anecdote to write a blog about". 

While I did not write it down, by some miracle I did remember what it was, and here I am writing about it.  However, this may have something to do with the extreme procrastination I am undertaking these days.  Only 6 more weeks of my undergraduate career to go... thank god.  I'm so over study.

Anywho, back to said anecdote.  Although it's not really an anecdote.  More of a thought.

At what point does a boyfriend (or girlfriend for that matter) become called a partner?!

Is it when you consider yourself too old to use the juvenile terminology of 'boyfriend' and it conjures up a youthful existence you wish never to return to? 

Is it when you're post-boyfriend stage but pre-fiance stage, where you're not freshly together, routine has set in, you're comfortable with each other, but you're not at the next stage of committment?

Is it when you move in together?  In which case saying "I live with my partner" sounds much more mature and serious than "I live with my boyfriend".

Or is it perhaps because you just don't like the word?

I think it's an interesting conundrum.  I don't know why this thought suddenly plagued me on the train at 10am, and I really have no opinion or clue about this (in spite of the relationship advice I seem to be constantly giving my friends... have they not noticed I've been single for 3 years?!) so comment what you think. 

Because it's a funny one. 

A Little Rant.

Dear people-with-whom-I-commute-on-the-train, 

I don't walk around and pinch the noses or shut the wide-open-gobs of those of you who snore consistently every single train ride, so the fact that occasionally I have allergies (especially when the people around me are wearing litres of perfume) which cause my nose to run (which I do blow, and solve the problem myself) does not mean you are entitled to shove tissues at me. I have my own tissues, I don't want your McDonalds-napkins-that-have-been-in-the-bottom-of-your-bag-for-god-only-knows-how-long. 

I find that so rude. Maybe I should start waking up every single one of you who snores.

Crazyness.

It has been a mental few months.  It would take a long time to explain it all here.  I'm still processing.

Basically, since I last posted...

March - went back to uni, which I was really looking forward to, but it's a lot of work this year and I'm so stressed out now, and I'm only at uni 3 days a week, which are full on days, so I pretty much never get to see my friends, and the friends who I don't see in my actual classes, our timetables clash so we can't see each other outside of class and this makes me very sad.

March 18th was a day that turned my world upside down.  There was a car accident.  My cousin was in the passenger seat.

April 3rd he died.



Now the funeral is over, I'm back home, and things are supposed to go back to 'normal'.  I mean, I wasn't that close to my cousin, but he's still family you know?  And he was 22, the same age as me.  That is bloody scary.  He leaves behind his partner and 3 month old son.  It's tragic.  My heart is breaking for my aunty, and I'm too far away to make any difference.

Meanwhile, I've got a shitload of stuff to catch up on for uni, and to do for upcoming essays.  

I feel like I'm drowning in debt too - my yearly dental check up ended up costing me over $400 because I needed fillings (which I got today... ouchie :( ) and it just feels like all the financial crap is hitting me all at the same time.  

I'm also reeaaaaaaaaaaaaaly tired, can't seem to get enough sleep.  Had a routine blood test on Wednesday, and my dr rang me today, I'm borderline anaemic again (yay -_- ) and so have to be careful not to trip into a flare up and get sick.

So basically, everything seems to suck a bit right now, and I'm too tired to do much about it.

I feel loved.

No page views for ages.

Why do I even have this blog?

Sugar Honey Ice Tea

I am SO bored.

Uni doesn't go back until March 4th.  

I have work once a week.  (Don't get me started, I'm already beating myself up enough for not having managed to nab another job for during the week...).  

I have no money to do anything.  It's so lame.  I live so far away from my friends.  

I have nothing to doooooo.  

I walk an hour a day.  

I do chores.  

I cook.  

I watch bad daytime television (no! I do not love watching Emmerdale...much)

I am ITCHING to get back to classes.  To travel an hour in to uni everyday, to sit for another hour listening to someone talk about something interesting, while I sit there frantically typing trying to get the stuff they say onto my laptop so at the end I have amazing notes to study from and stress over for exams.  

I never will look forward to the assignments, the essays, etc. because they always stress me out and I leave them til the last minute.  I hope I learned my lesson and this year will be different.  

I miss seeing my friends at uni in class, between classes, bumping in to them at the library or the food shops, or the bar on campus.  

I miss feeling like belonging to a group of students who are so diverse, but with similar goals of learning more, bettering their future job opportunities, and contributing to the world around us.

BRING ON 4th MARCH!

Life is all about balance, right?

The balance between work and play.

The balance between good food and bad.

The balance between exercise and rest.

The balance between relaxation and productivity.

There is one balance I'm finding it hard to get my head around.  

You see,  there are several types of people and approaches when it comes to the ever-popular topic of body weight/fitness/weight loss.  I'm going to make a list, because I really like lists.

1. The people who go "embrace your curves, you don't need to change, as long as you're happy, that is all that matters, beauty is beauty regardless of size, eat what you want, who cares what anyone else thinks".  This makes me feel like why bother?
2. The people who go "health and fitness is a lifestyle, you feel so amazing eating the right things, you'll be so much happier, you'll have so much more energy from working out, it's so worth it, it might be hard but keep going, healthy weight is important, get your summer body all year round".  This makes me think well that would be nice to be healthy, and look amazing like everyone else.
3. The people who go "obsess over every calorie, get rid of carbs, carbs are evil, thigh gaps are important, hipbones and collar bones are the things you want, who cares about strength, just be skinny so you can fit into smaller clothes, run until you can't feel anything anymore, people who aren't skinny are disgusting slobs".  This makes me feel stupid and inadequate for being anything other than skinny.

So where do I fit?  Well I guess you can't be a mix of all 3.  You can't say "embrace your curves, beauty at every size", but then do everything in your power to reduce them.  It's hypocritical.  It's like by choosing one, you're telling everyone else they're inferior.  

I am overweight, obese if you believe in BMIs, and I don't like how I look.  People say "embrace your curves, you're beautiful as you are" to people who look just like me, and yet here I am yearning to look like Miranda Kerr (no shit, have you seen her body?!), or Katy Perry (she's not a stick, she's perf!), or Kaley Cuoco (who coincidentally is the exact same height as me... can you imagine me looking as hot as her... whoah.)

I guess what I'm trying to say is that finding the equilibrium between being happy with what I have, and striving for something better (in the sense of healthier, fitter, smaller) ostracizes some, and includes me in other groups.  I do believe that everyone is beautiful no matter what size they are, but I feel like a dick for saying "I believe that, but I'm trying to lose weight and get fitter myself".  I'm talking the talk but not walking the walk.  I don't know where I belong.  I don't even know what the point of this blog was, except to try and put my thoughts in order.  Hmm.

Memories

This is just a short post.

I made a memory jar.

I've seen them before, written about, and what you do, is you take a jar and throughout the year, anytime something good or amazing happens, you write it down, fold it up and put it in the jar.

Then, at the end of the year, you empty the jar and read and remember the amazing things that that year brought you.

I've always loved this idea, but never done it.

Recently, I took to randomly stealing glass jars out of the recycling bins at my house, promising my mother that my odd hoarding behaviour was in fact purposeful.  When she asked what for, I couldn't say.  But, the four jars I stole have all found new, useful homes.  

One now houses all my bobby pins.  Another now houses my collection of old coins.  One now holds my hot glue gun sticks (because my cat threw up on the bag that used to hold them -_-).  And the final one, I'm sure you can guess.

Did I mention I decorated all of these jars with glitter glue?  Just because I can.  Indulging my inner child, some would say.  

So now my memories live in a pink glitter glued jar.  I can't wait to see what else 2013 brings, if it's this good already! xx