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Doctor Who Liveblog
May. 16th, 2010 08:02 pmDecided to rewatch last night's DW with the reveal at the end of the episode in mind. Largely coz i'm a geek and I like it when things still work when you rewatch...
( spoilertastic! )
( spoilertastic! )
So I've been lucky enough to win paid time here on dreamwidth. Regrettably my laptop is knackered and currently with eBuyer who will almost certainly refuse to fix it under warranty. I'm conscious however that it has been quite some time since I updated so at least a cursory post is in order.
Life has rather run away with me, only in that screwing you over sort of way. An unending stream of job applications has come to precisely, hang on let me just check...yeah, to precisely nothing. My current job (soul destroying retail, thanks for asking!) somehow manages to get worse. The staff I don't complain about my job with/to (a minority) are incompetent beyond belief. Today's simple instruction, by way of example, was "to log out, just press function then clear" What did she do? Function, 1, enter. She was just about to press 1 again when I, through grated teeth, said "no. Clear. Press. Clear." If you can hear my eye twitching you'll have a good idea of where I am aggravation wise.
The government, the education system promised me that if I worked *really* hard, made sacrifices, gave my all then I would be rewarded. The job markets would be filled with jobs in the milk and honey production industries, my bank account would be more bouyant than the very cheapest dingy that has carried it's unlucky, fatherless child far out to sea from some free bar beach resort. But, instead, what do I have to show for a Bachelors and Masters? A massive student loan which I still don't earn enough to start paying back. A soul destroying - and I really do mean every syllable of that phrase - job. Not too mention the remarkable achievement of making myself completely unemployable by doing the Masters at all. A pretty impressive result, I'm sure you'll agree.
In short? BOLLOCKS. Someone give me a job with at least a gesture towards my field of expertise, a field which I believe to be both important for the development of society and the further liberation of all minority groups. Viva la queer theory!
Or something.
Life has rather run away with me, only in that screwing you over sort of way. An unending stream of job applications has come to precisely, hang on let me just check...yeah, to precisely nothing. My current job (soul destroying retail, thanks for asking!) somehow manages to get worse. The staff I don't complain about my job with/to (a minority) are incompetent beyond belief. Today's simple instruction, by way of example, was "to log out, just press function then clear" What did she do? Function, 1, enter. She was just about to press 1 again when I, through grated teeth, said "no. Clear. Press. Clear." If you can hear my eye twitching you'll have a good idea of where I am aggravation wise.
The government, the education system promised me that if I worked *really* hard, made sacrifices, gave my all then I would be rewarded. The job markets would be filled with jobs in the milk and honey production industries, my bank account would be more bouyant than the very cheapest dingy that has carried it's unlucky, fatherless child far out to sea from some free bar beach resort. But, instead, what do I have to show for a Bachelors and Masters? A massive student loan which I still don't earn enough to start paying back. A soul destroying - and I really do mean every syllable of that phrase - job. Not too mention the remarkable achievement of making myself completely unemployable by doing the Masters at all. A pretty impressive result, I'm sure you'll agree.
In short? BOLLOCKS. Someone give me a job with at least a gesture towards my field of expertise, a field which I believe to be both important for the development of society and the further liberation of all minority groups. Viva la queer theory!
Or something.
(no subject)
Apr. 9th, 2010 09:51 pmSo something weird has happened to me. I've developed a violent and extremely unpleasant intolerance for alcohol. A week ago on Monday I had 4 glasses of wine at the pub. Then I threw up. Then I went home and threw up twice more. The next morning I was still ill, called in sick to work feeling guilty about taking a day off for a hangover for the first time ever. Then I threw up some more. The next day I still felt terrible, agonising stomach cramps and constant feeling of nausea. I concluded it hadn't been a hangover but I just had a virus. On Sunday I was feeling better so had a rum and coke and immediately felt really ill. Concluding I just wasn't as well as I thought I shrugged it off. A pint of beer on Tuesday after lunch made me feel queasy. 2 glasses of wine in a restaurant with dinner last night left me dry heaving and clutching my stomach. Today I've felt sick all day
So I googled 'sudden intolerance to alcohol' and there are pages and pages of people all telling the same story; they were heavy drinkers and after a moderate night's drinking they were violently ill for several days, feeling as though they'd been poisoned and then every time they tried to drink after even a tiny bit of alcohol made them ill.
And everyone who asks their doctor about it gets the same response: "no idea what has caused the sudden intolerance but stop drinking". The common factor seems to be everyone was a heavy drinker, I wonder if it's a form of liver damage?
The thing that worries me most is how I'll manage to socialise if I can't drink, it's been my crutch for years. That, and cold beer on the beach on a hot day. Or glass of red in front of a movie at home. Or champagne on Christmas morning.
So I googled 'sudden intolerance to alcohol' and there are pages and pages of people all telling the same story; they were heavy drinkers and after a moderate night's drinking they were violently ill for several days, feeling as though they'd been poisoned and then every time they tried to drink after even a tiny bit of alcohol made them ill.
And everyone who asks their doctor about it gets the same response: "no idea what has caused the sudden intolerance but stop drinking". The common factor seems to be everyone was a heavy drinker, I wonder if it's a form of liver damage?
The thing that worries me most is how I'll manage to socialise if I can't drink, it's been my crutch for years. That, and cold beer on the beach on a hot day. Or glass of red in front of a movie at home. Or champagne on Christmas morning.
Looking at those pictures of you.
Feb. 18th, 2010 10:40 pmConversation with my housemate led me to scramble under my bed and pull out my travel box. Therein I found the picture of me hugging a koala. And I found the photo of you and your koala.
I opened my travel diary. Let the pages flick through my fingers. Let them stop flicking quite at random. Do you know where it stopped? On the day we collected your resized ring from the jewellers. Monday 7th May 2007. We went to the Chinese Gardens, right in the centre of sydney. There was a Russian waitress. Like every Russian we met whilst travelling she was rude and angry. We went for an engagement dinner. It was at Cafe Otto, just down the road from our YHA hostel. We tipped 11% and were their best customers all night.
Has she bought you a ring yet? Are you planning a date? Do you still think of me? Still miss me. You must feel something, you still read your friends page, but there's only me and Chris on it.
Are you hoping I'm happy or still miserable? I'm still in love with you, I don't know what that makes me. Stupid, probably. Honest too, I said I'd never stop loving you. It's been 1 year and almost 3 months.
Valentines Day was hard. I thought of you. Of how happy you were when I showed you into our rose petal strewn bedroom. Did she do something better? Did you feel your heart swell?
Tell me you still care about me. Even a little bit. Send me a text or an email, pretend you accidently sent it to the wrong number/address. I won't reply. It'll be like it never happened. Much like Monday the 7th of May 2007.
I opened my travel diary. Let the pages flick through my fingers. Let them stop flicking quite at random. Do you know where it stopped? On the day we collected your resized ring from the jewellers. Monday 7th May 2007. We went to the Chinese Gardens, right in the centre of sydney. There was a Russian waitress. Like every Russian we met whilst travelling she was rude and angry. We went for an engagement dinner. It was at Cafe Otto, just down the road from our YHA hostel. We tipped 11% and were their best customers all night.
Has she bought you a ring yet? Are you planning a date? Do you still think of me? Still miss me. You must feel something, you still read your friends page, but there's only me and Chris on it.
Are you hoping I'm happy or still miserable? I'm still in love with you, I don't know what that makes me. Stupid, probably. Honest too, I said I'd never stop loving you. It's been 1 year and almost 3 months.
Valentines Day was hard. I thought of you. Of how happy you were when I showed you into our rose petal strewn bedroom. Did she do something better? Did you feel your heart swell?
Tell me you still care about me. Even a little bit. Send me a text or an email, pretend you accidently sent it to the wrong number/address. I won't reply. It'll be like it never happened. Much like Monday the 7th of May 2007.
