heystasa: (Default)
(lol at the first post I've made in ages being about a completely different social media site, but fuck it I can't do it there can I?)

Can it please be accepted that, if I have selected "not available to chat" then I am - and here I'd like to point out the ridiculousness of me needing to say this at all - NOT FUCKING AVAILABLE TO CHAT.

And indeed, if I NEVER, AT ANY TIME, AT ALL, EVER have "available to chat" selected, is it really so much to expect people to draw the conclusion that I, and here's the key point in all of this, NEVER WANT TO FUCKING CHAT.

Wah wah wah i have a lot to say apparently )

And this, it occurs to me, is probably why I'm so bad at maintaining meaningful friendships. "GO AWAY WITH YOUR WANTING MY COMPANY WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU I REFUSE TO MAKE TALKING TO ME EASY" is prob not helpful.
heystasa: (Default)
I have two weeks to do about 17 assessments.

This is on top of my two jobs (one of which is only three days a week and the other of which is incredibly flexible - thank god), helping organise my sister's 18th, feeding my parents' pets while they're in NZ, going to two family parties, and helping my grandma sort out her phone/internet.

If anyone else asks me to do anything for them I will actually die.

I never want to get off this couch again. Maybe I could throw it all in and just live on the couch. Get one of the random neighbourhood kids who are always walking past to bring me food occasionally. It could work.

I so can't wait for this study block to be over. I miss not having anything to do.
heystasa: (sore)

The internet is really good this evening and I really want to watch Tropic Thunder and play Warcraft 3 and fandom is going off because it's the 100th epsiode tomorrow and I want to join in and I'm way behind in my flist because of my b'day party and Easter week at home and all this study (which I am totally over, btw) and I could totally just chill and spend the night writing comments right now BUT I HAVE TO WRITE AN ESSAY.


heystasa: (Default)

I will never understand why the ABC keeps slotting in this Star Stories crap between series of the good shows on Wednesdays. Seriously, it's mindblowingly terrible. And it makes me sad to know that the kid from Muppet Treasure Island has become so... skeevy. Know what, bugger this. I'm gonna run up to the street and get some chewy (it's an addiction, you guys, seriously) before Tara starts. brb. *leaves*

*turns on TV*
Perfect timing!
*blows bubble*

So hi. Got the Abnormal Psych essay in today, ON TIME. It wasn't actually finished, but I've been having so much despair with this thing hanging over my head I was not going to spend another day with the damn thing, so printed it at 4:52 and ran - actually ran, which I'm technically not supposed to do because I could, like, lose the feeling in my legs or something - it to the psych building. When I got there they'd pulled the roller door down already, and I almost freaking SOBBED. Went around the corner to the staff entrance and caught them leaving, because damn it, my phone said it was 4:57 and I fecking ran for this freaking essay. They were very nice, and accepted it. Thank god.

This was going to be a big entry about a lot of random little things, but turned into bitching about Sydney Uni Psych, loving Sydney Uni Art History & Film, comparing the three, and talking about my academic and career plans )

The plan, such as it stands at the moment, is to spread the remaining four units of study I have left on my degree over two semesters next year, while hopefully getting a job vaguely related to film in some way (or getting an unrelated job and volunteering at film festivals), and doing short courses at AFTRS (the Australian Fillm, TV, and Radio School) to build a portfolio and study cinematography/ directing/ art direction there properly the year after I do honours here. Which means three more years in Sydney, which is bad, but there isn't a lot of choice when it comes to learning film making - it's pretty much a capital cities thing, I think. Although I may take a year off after honours, stay in the Central West working some little retail job, or working at one of the ABC's regional offices. A foot in the door is a foot in the door in the Australian film industry, no matter how small the door, or which side of the house it's on.

heystasa: (batman)
oh my GOD i am itchy

argh argh argh

heystasa: (Fran)
So tonight's the concert for damn stupid SUESS (Sydney Uni Ecclectic Singing Society, which my friend started, and roped me into joining, despite the fact that I really am not a choir person, and tend to get ragey).

I know this is horendously late notice, but you are, of course, all invited. Given how terrible a mood SUESS tends to put me in, it'd be nice to see some people that I don't associate with wanting to hit things, so not only are you invited, you'd be very very welcome. Moral support is nice. It's in the big room at Old Darlington School, at 7:30.

Putting aside my weird rage issues for the moment, I'm a bit hesitant about this thing. My back can't really take standing still and trying to reach high notes at the same time, so that makes things hard and painful, and means that my friend the conductor gives me "smile, damn you! and hold your folder properly!" looks, while all I can manage is small grimaces of pain with one hand holding my lower back in a vain attempt at providing some support. And the having to wear certain clothes just puts me in mind of school band, which leads to some very unpleasant memories (our school band teacher was a dreadful bitch, and sucked the joy out of everything she touched. Also, she was bad at the whole, actually teaching kids to play and read music thing). And, because I missed three weeks due to sickness and essays, and because I have no access to sheetmusic, I'm not doing a solo, which leads to inferiority issues, and, ugh. I really don't want to go.

Waaaaaaaaah, I'm calling my Mum to whinge.

ETA: Okay, bitching on the phone to your Mum and sister does wonders for being pissed off. I'm in a good mood now, so yay!

And I look fecking hot in black, yo. And slacks? Actually make my bum look good. hells yeah.


May. 6th, 2009 05:16 pm
heystasa: (Fran)

Oh my god, you guys. I am so sick of talking to Telstra. I just hate them so much, you guys, seriously. So much.

All I want is my internet connection back on. I just had to talk to six different people, all of them bastards, and I was rude to the recording guy, and I like the recording guy, and I still have to wait til Monday.

I hate Telstra so, so much.

heystasa: (batman)
There was a dead rat on the verandah the other morning. A very large, very dead rat. Right there, under Lucy's window.

And I was the only one home.

Dad wasn't there to remove it, so I marched inside, and rang Mum (who was in Orange) to tell her.

"THERE'S A DEAD RAT ON THE VERANDAH!!!" I said. "A dead rat, on the verandah. And Dad's not he-ere!!!" I hoped to convey through tone alone that I was absolutely not going to be the one to remove it.

Mum seemed rather perpexed that I would ring her just to tell her that there was a dead rodent on our front verandah. I think she should really know by now that I have absolutely no qualms about sharing my misery with huge amounts of drama where ever possible.

 I told the pets that if any of them went near the damned thing I would have to speak very sternly to them and never pat them ever again. Dad said it was nice of the cats to want to share their rat with us.

And, because one rat's never enough...

It's been raining recently, which means it's time to start sowing, which means Dad breaking out the machinery.

An auger is a long, tall machine used to move grain from one place to another - in this case, from a silo to the scarifyier. The bottom of the auger is placed in the grain, and when turned on, a curved, rotating metal blade moves the grain up the long, thick pipe, so that it can pour out the other end and into the machinery to be carted or sown.

When Dad turned the auger on yesterday, nineteen rats were killed.

A mother rat, and her two litters.

I did not see the deceased myself, but Dad took some guests over to see them hours after the event, and so I am given to believe there is a pile of dead rodents somewhere near the shed (and, therefore, near my house), that I would prefer not to think about.

This is why we need another python.

Also, ow.

Feb. 13th, 2009 09:18 pm
heystasa: (Ryo)

I'm typing this from my Grandma's place, and I've kind of got the shits.

My back is really bad at the moment. Hopefully writing it all out will help me cope a little. )
I just... I hate my back so much. Mostly I just want it to be better. I want to be normal and healthy. But I can't. And I'm the one that has to deal with that. It'd be nice if people considered that, once in a while.

heystasa: (Default)
There is a smokey haze here. Last time that happened was during the Canberra bushfires a few years ago, and I remember being amazed then at how big the fires must have been for the smoke to travel 350kms. We're around seven hundred Ks from where the fires are now, and the smoke is so thick you can't even see the back paddock properly and the sky is completely white. I can't even imagine how bad it must be this time.

It's strange, hearing about a disaster happening far off and then waking to see the evidence all around you. Normally, this area seems completely immune to the rest of the world.

Mum and I went flat hunting over the weekend. Mostly in Glebe as there was nothing really suitable in Newtown, unfortunately.

We had a really nice time together, we always do on our Sydney trips. Saw a movie, went out to tea both nights, made elaborate plans trying to figure out how we could be at three flat inspections at once. Rushed about and flagged taxis and bitched about one of the agents. Wandered about Glebe on Friday night trying to find all the flats we were planning to see properly the next day, ended up at Blackwattle Bay looking over the water at eleven o'clock at night - people were out walking their dogs and babies even then. I was thwarted twice in my pursuit for a nice cold apple juice after flat hunting, and Mum was driven to sarcasm while trying to deal with the annoying agent. We hobbled around together with sore feet the next day when a mix up over movies (we sat in the cinema for half an hour, thinking our movie was late because of a blackout that had interrupted the ending of the film before it, before we realised we had been sold the wrong tickets and our movie had started twenty minutes ago) meant we had to wander around King Street. It was a nice trip.

On the flat search, I've been offered one fairly nice but very small place already, which is the backup in case we miss out on the absolutely amazing two story, two or three bedroom, old fashioned, well-lit, near the Point, catacomb-y and enormous flat above a shop that I really really want. The waiting to hear is going to kill me.

Speaking of killing me, worst air-sickness ever on Friday. Oh god, never going near a plane without medication during a heatwave again. Why oh why can't I be one of those lucky bastards who gets to spew when they feel crook? The world is a much better place after a good vomit.

For the way back we bought some medicated travel sickness stuff, which I've not had for a very long time, preferring instead to take ginger pills (despite the taste of ginger making me want to spew just as much and the sickness) so I could stay awake.

Dude. I had forgotten what it was like to be that stoned.

I have like a dozen things I want finish writing and post.

Was meant to ring Uni today. Bugger. Must do that tomorrow.

Which reminds me - rant time:

I effing hate the arts desk sometimes )

This post has a bit of a whiny, possibly self-centred tone because my back really hurts today.  :( 

And one of my wisdom teeth is really hurting.

And my knee hurts where it got all cut up after my motorbike gave up on me half way up the dam bank, rolled all the way back down, and then fell over on me.

Sympathy is encouraged and will be hoarded away gratefully so that I can look at it lovingly as I wallow in self pity.

Dexter's back on tonight! And GNW! And Media watch! And there's a Stephen Fry thing about his bipolar disorder! And the second series of Underbelly, which I never really cared about before but this one is set in the seventies and involves Matthew Newton! Matthew Newton! And it's South Park night!

And they're all on at the exact same time!

Welcome back, ratings season?
heystasa: (Default)
STELLA:  It's hooooot.

LUCY:  Stop whinging.

STELLA:  I don't whinge.

LUCY:  What do you do then?

STELLA:  I make legitimate criticisms about the inadequacies of the world.

heystasa: (Ryo)

I think I'm dying.

Not like really or anything, but you get the point. Headache. Have been sick all week, but still had to go to Uni (which I want to end so I can go home and sulk) and write two psych reports. Was horrible. Had it all under control and then sick and blergh and my brain wouldn't work and now my reports are both crap and I might lose ten whole marks from the first one because I only got it to the psych counter at two minutes past five which I could accept if the stupid fire alarm hadn't gone off in the library while I was trying to finish the damn thing and then I had to move to the Art History library which has no printer so I had to go back to the main library in the end anyway which I did and submitted it online before five so it should count as being in before five dammit. Will have to go to the psych desk tomorrow and ask about it all. Will talk to the course coordinator if I need to. Am sick, can get doctor's certificate, want leeway.

Also want home. With Mum and Dad and sister and cats. And dogs, because they love me blindly and sit on my feet, unlike the cats, who are just cute and make funny little meeping noises when they want something. Lonely. Tired. Sister visiting on Friday. Want her here now.

Have discovered that the televisual form of chocolate is Gilmore Girls.

Was in good mood after submitting today's assessment. Got steak for tea at a cafe, was very nice. Then saw Burn After Reading, which was great. Brad Pitt is an adorably ridiculous moron, and the CIA guys at the end are one of the best things on film ever. Have to learn that actor's name. Can't just call him Schillenger forever. Then walked home - is a pretty night but walking was probably where I went wrong. Meant I was tired when got here. Was feeling better, but am obviously not fully recovered. Saw email telling me first report received on Monday instead of Friday and appear to have had an emotional breakdown. Not just out of nowhere, have been stressed with few ups for too long.

Aaand have now just gotten off the phone after a nice sulk session with my Mum and feel much better. We talked about the holiday we're going to go on to Vanuatu or Daydream Island or New Caledonia. I am hoping for New Caledonia, it's beautiful and different and we have history there. Talking about New Caledonia lead to talking about our French/NC ancestry, which lead to us googling our French name. Which I am going to continue to do now while Gilmore Girls plays in the background.

Still have to go to the psych desk and do horrid negotiations tomorrow, but feel better anyway. Also! We'll know the gender of my brother's twins tomorrow! So I get to buy baby gifts!

It's amazing what a good cry at your mother can do to improve your disposition. I really didn't think I was capable of exclaimation points today.

I really need a break.
heystasa: (Default)
My experience watching The Phantom of the Opera (on DVD) for the first ime ever:

Upon hearing the opening music and almost every song after that:

I feeeeeeeeeel you Jooooo-annnnnnnaaa, do they think that walls can hiiiiide yooou, even now I'm at your wiiindow.

> at Roul's entry:

*gasp* it's Joe. Oh curse you Angels in America for having a deep and long lasting affect on me.

> 30 minutes in:

for the love of God will you MAKE A POINT!

> 33 minutes:

...he's WALTER! solved it.

> 37 mins:


> 45 mins: 

*checks back of DVD to see how long it goes for*
*starts a jigsaw puzzle*

> 50 minutes:

Oh god they're singing again. TALK SO WE CAN ACTUALLY GET SOMEWHERE.

>when they're all freaking over the letters:

You dumb peeps needs some Granny.

> When Christine's all like "I can't escape him":

How's about you leave the opera, twit.
..."Leave?! Leave the opera?!!!" ehehehee. Ah, I forgot that part.

> Like, an hour or so in:

*gets fed up and puts Space Jam on*  
ehehehehhee, NBA players  HIT THEMSELVES IN HEAD WITH BASKETBALLS!!! ehehehehehhee. 

My tastes are so high brow and cultured. Fear them.

August 2012

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