for thoughts and other useless things
just because you like… doesn’t mean you must have.
just because you touch… doesn’t mean you must feel.
just because you make… doesn’t mean you create.
just because you dream… doesn’t mean it’s fake.
just because you look… doesn’t mean you see.
just because you realise… doesn’t mean you understand.
just because you leave… doesn’t mean you’re gone.
Continue reading ‘just because .’
back from my holiday!
found something curious as i was checking my stats the other day. click to enlarge.
i’m not a compassionate, loving person. i don’t pretend to be. i don’t like a lot of things. i don’t like a lot of people. i’ve never, throughout my life, seen the best in people. in fact, a lot of the time i sift out bad parts of people who are probably very good. it’s not that i’m a mean spirited person; i was just born to be a critic.
flaws. they’re everywhere. i just can’t ignore them. in myself they’re ever noticable and prevalent. i know they’re there, i try to fix them, if i can’t then too bad. but in other people, errors jump out at me and cannot be overlooked until redeemed. a language fault, a malapropism, a slip in grammar, an error in judgement or just something stupid overall. big red sign glaring overhead.
i am pleasantly surprised (nor maybe not so much pleasantly as just surprised) that my wireless internet connection is much better here, on the gold coast, than at my home in sydney.
yes folks, you heard right. i am blogging from the gold coast with pristene internet connection. and right now i’m staring at a wine rack full of sealed mount franklin bottles; a scene which obviously belongs in someone’s garage.
i figured that it was about time i took myself on a holiday. although i miss my yearly trip to shanghai, (and all the shopping involved), it feels good to have tried something new. my asserted independence is strikingly bold, and this has been increasingly emphasised by my bus ride to the airport.
upon observing a rather attractive female cleaner in the toilets of world square shopping centre today, a very curious question became embedded in my mind.
i would think that even without fantastic english skills, a nice face, long curly hair and a decent rack can probably get a poor girl around five hundred per night, no toilet cleaning or sex involved.
which leads me to my question; would you rather be a stripper or a toilet cleaner?
now consider this hypothetical situation; you have no wealthy background, immigrated rather recently, probably need to pay bills or even school fees to gain an education, and have no real skills or ways of getting hired.
it is so very difficult to move when one has so many possessions. too many clothes, too many hair accessories, too much trash, not enough shoes. when they’re being packed into a box, piece by piece, awaiting the arrival into my next life, i must consider if i want to bring them at all.
consequently, i find myself leaving a lot behind, sometimes to others and sometimes to landfill. when i evacuated my parents’ residence, i gave up my collection of hats and a great number of soft toys. i also overlooked the importance of some of the items i gave up, such as my (very expensive) suitcase and my sleeping bag. but time, rather than need and want, i think, will heal these voids.
these korean butter waffles are driving me insane. on impluse i bought a box on the way home, and i’ve been home for about 20 minutes devouring more than half the box.
the taste it leaves on my tongue just makes me want to keep eating it. it’s horrible.
i think arnotts or something should pay a couple of million dollars for the recepie and unleash it upon the western world, and then we’ll all be fatter than we were before.
i noticed recently that christmas, in fact, isn’t very far away. it is now the end of october. this year’s hsc will soon be done, uni exams will be finished and everybody’s life is just about to become one long holiday.
she gets on and walks over to the seat, careful not to sit on the brown stuff whoever sat there before had left. the way she holds herself makes it obvious that she thinks she’s top shit. she looks at the brown mess (it looks sticky), disgusted, and shifts a little further over. because of this, she ends up right opposite me, and i can’t help but stare for just a second. i look down at my n95 and press a few buttons like there’s something interesting going on.
a jumpy sound catches my attention, but i look down. with my peripheral vision i can see her take out her own phone. it’s pink. she glides her fingers across the touch screen and texts a reply to the message and rolls her eyes. she puts the pink phone back in her bag, but before the message tone sounds again, she removes it, checking, seemingly paranoid.
