Never Help Anyone - My Leg Is On Fire

My leg is on fire.

Okay, not literally. Figuratively.

It's my right leg, and it's buzzing right now. It feels like someone has taken my leg muscle, from my hip downwards, and twisted it-- then put it back in my leg. The sensation is almost indescribable.

It doesn't hurt necessarily, but its really unpleasant.

It's nerve damage.

And it sucks, and it's still not 100% healed even three years later.  But it used to be worse. So a tightness in my leg is pretty fine now.

But a word of advice.

When your brother says to you; "hey can you help me wall-mount the dryer?" And you say "yeah sure!" but you're a puny chubby late twenties woman with little or no muscle mass in your lower back, well...

... Say no.

In fact, unless you are a super muscly dude like my brother is, and can bench press at least 40lbs easily, maybe don't go helping him lift a 100 pound dryer to put above your head and on the wall. Especially if you're also really fucking short, 5'5" -- and your favourite past-time is being on the internet and being a complete nerd.

Let me give you a play by play of that day.

My brother: "Okay, I'll hold the side, you hold the bottom and try and find the hooks."

Me: "Sure."

Us: "Ooof"

My lower back muscles: *groggy* HUH?"

Me: "I can't find the wall hooks"  *frowny face*

Him: "Okay, put it down, we'll try again."

Me: "Hey that was fun, lets try another three times!" (Okay I never actually said that. It was more like, 'hey I can't find them still,' until my brother got fed up with me.)

My lower back muscles: "WHAT'S HAPPENING!?" *dies*

It didn't actually hurt then. I don't know, it never felt like a strain, or anything. I never even noticed any kind of pain that day. I never noticed a twinge or any kind of sensation in my back that would indicate any kind of injury as I helped him. In fact, I felt fine.

At first.

Like a rotting corpse waiting to be found, it was about five days later when my body was like, "HEY NOTHING IS WORKING BACK HERE, FYI!"

... my body yells, a lot.

And that's when it started to hurt. Unfortunately, as my previous entry attests, I'm also clumsy, so I'd also banged my tailbone on the same day as the dryer incident, this time from sitting too hard -- yeah I'm an extreme sitter.

I'm so screwed, haha.

So between the dryer and the tailbone--all at once, my body was like; "FUCK THIS SHIT," and kinda left me to my own devices.

It started with aching in my thighs. Dull aching. Suddenly, it snaked its way up to my hips, my lower back. And then, every time I bent over, pain. I couldn't bend. I couldn't sit. I sat like an old person.  I couldn't understand it.

Two weeks, and nothing. I couldn't bend at the waist without pain. Aching, aching, constantly.

And suddenly, I couldn't do my extreme sitting any more. In fact -- I'm sitting cross legged on my tiny netbook writing this right now -- two and a half years ago I wouldn't have been able to bend and sit cross legged at all. To sit cross-legged it would have meant slow, residual build up of stiffness and pain until I would have gotten up, hunched over and quasimodo-like. I wouldn't have been able to sit here even 5 minutes.

So I went to the doctor. It's a strain. Take some ibuprofen.

It didn't stop the pain, at all.

And then, another week goes by. My whole entire abdomen started to swell. Starting from my tailbone. And then the next day, my thighs. Next day my hips, my stomach.

"It could be diabetes," the guy says, looking really disinterested.

"My ankles and feet aren't swollen," I say.

"Oh." He says, and looks. They aren't. I luckily do not have 'cankles' -- I have pretty slim ankles for a fat girl. They are fine.

"Allergic reaction to ibuprofen," he says, still looking disinterested.

"But I always use ibuprofen, it's never happened before. And why would it be localized to the fucking place I had pain, unless it was related?" I look at him skeptically.

He shrugs and gives me a diuretic. Great.

Fucking doctors.

... and then the muscle spasms begin.

I still get this, especially in my right leg, the one with the continued buzzing. But not as bad. Man, it was bad when it first started happening. It was like twitching all along both legs. Like all along, and seconds apart. Constantly. Like a ripple twitching effect. It was as if all my muscles in my legs had given up and had no strength.

So long story short, it took seven months, an ultrasound, two x-rays, about four hundred dollars, and they still didn't know what was up. They theorized nerve damage but that test needs an Electromyogram to be diagnosed and EMGs are not something I could afford to do.

Besides, it was starting to heal. Soon I could kinda bend again, sit down without wincing, go to the toilet without wincing... go to sleep without a weird buzzing sensation.

It actually took a year for the symptoms to slowly go away, and it's been three years now, and heh, I can still feel the muscle spasms in my right leg as I write this.

Nerve damage takes for-fucking-ever to heal.

I'm still not 100%, still can't sit cross legged for long periods, can't bend for long periods. I still get tightness, I only managed to start exercising again back in January. My whole weight loss was basically on hold two years, because I wasn't sure if dancing and weights was making it worse or not.

It doesn't sound like much but at the time it was brutal.

So, the moral of the story is:

Never help your fucking brother with anything, ever, and always be careful when you practice extreme sitting.

So There's This Boy

So there's this boy.

His name is Nick. He's two years younger than me. That makes me happy because it means my sweet cougar powahs are still workin', aw yeah.

I think I have a weird thing where I like clinging to my youth through my boyfriends. It's sad, really. I think I've been with an older guy only once. I think it's because I'm slightly immature in ways and older guys are a bit... well, boring.

Yeah, that's a huge generalization.

Probably not true. Maybe I just like the idea of them being younger than me. But I told myself I wouldn't date someone my exes age again-- too immature-- and I'm getting to the point where I'm almost past my use-by date, so young guys don't want me anyway.

Anyway.


I like Nick; I really do. And I think he likes me... because when a guy says to you; "you should come over, I'll cook you dinner sometime..."

What he really means is; "hey, I want to bonk you." Right?

Even if that's not true, that's what I'm going with. Yeah, he totally wants me. I'm hot shit.*

Disclaimer: I may not be hot shit at all. I may be fat with a goofy head and mostly deluded. But I'm going to go with being hot shit.

My mother wants me to marry Nick. Actually, my mother wants me to marry anyone decent looking that's halfway nice to me. Doesn't matter if I love them or not. Doesn't matter if they're good to me or not.

Handsome? Check. Well off? Check. Decent job? Check. Will he make gossipy old Italian ladies jealous? Well, double check.

"He's perfect for you D! Go and get married!"

Mothers.

I don't want to get married in general, really. Don't care about it. 

"He's an accountant," she says with an insane gleam in her eye. "Papa was an accountant..."

"Yeah, I know. He was my Dad and everything."

Like that makes a difference to me at all.

Nick picked me up last Friday and he got the full insanity of my mother to contend with. She gushed. She gushed about his car, (a 4WD), she gushed about his job, his height, his muscles...

He must like me somewhat because he even contacted me after that and didn't run away screaming.

The thing is, Nick is great and I like him. It's really early days. Maybe there's something there. I'm not going into it with a closed mind.

But...

I feel perched on the threshold between my old life and new life-- on the one hand, poverty but someone who understood me and accepted me, flaws and all... maybe the closest thing I'll ever have to true love...

... on the other hand, someone that superficially ticks all the boxes, but who I know deep down isn't right for me, who doesn't make me laugh, who I can't make laugh, who doesn't 'get' me, share my interests... who on paper, is fucking fantastic.

But yet he can offer me stability, someone here.

If this were a fucking job interview, I'd totally fucking hire him.

But it's not, it's my life.

And it's kind of scary to be here. Part of me wonders if I should start on this path if I have no intention of following it, really.

I do like him, but could I love him? I don't know. Maybe I should cut my losses and see if I can find someone I can feel the way about. I think it's unfair otherwise, and could open me up to a lot of pain later on.

But maybe I'm just not feeling it because I'm not 100% ready since my breakup. I don't know.

Argh. I think about things too much. It's a horrible habit of mine.

Meanwhile, my mother can plan every facet of our future together. She'll ask me if he's texted me like every day.

"Shame he's blonde," she said once.

"Why?"

"I already have two blonde nephews."

....

Eurovision - The Good, The Bad, The Ugly

Up there is Julia Zemiro and Sam Pang, the hosts for Eurovision in Australia. I personally love them-- and I think they're hilarious. Julia is so cute and funny. Her expressions crack me up. She reminds me of me a little-- if only I could be half as charismatic and talented as her, I'd be very happy.

Can't believe it's already over for another year. I personally think the songs were better this year, compared to last year. I didn't mind that Euphoria won, because it had a little something something. Maybe it was the dancing ninja who gave it the edge, maybe it was dandruff like snow. Who knows.

Did I mention I love Eurovision? I think I did... what with two entries gushing about the subject. I used up all my funny last night, though. So all I'm going to do is make lists.

Dunneh's Top 5 Eurovision Final 2012 Songs

1. Serbia - Željko Joksimović - Nije Ljubav Stvar
 
Serbia was my favourite entry, just because it gave me chills every time. The man is sexy and he has a sexy voice, even though he's not the kind of man I usually go for -- he's kind of magnetic. I'm actually 1/4 Croatian on my mother's side, so the little I could understand of it was touching. Not that it needed to be understood to be touching; part of the appeal to me is that I couldn't understand it. And I'm glad it did well.

2. Iceland - Greta Salóme & Jónsi - Never Forget

Yeah, I freaking love this song. I love the timbre of the guy's voice at the start, the violin, the lyrics, the way they harmonize. I can't believe it ranked so low. It had like these metal undertones I love, and I guess the lyrics just resonated with me. 

3. FYR Macedonia - Kaliopi - Crno I Belo

I loved this song, and it was hard to decide between my top three favourites to be honest. The more I hear this, the more I like it. I love how she flips it into a power-ballad 1/4 of the way through. The only qualm I have with the song is even though Kaliopi rocks, her voice might not be strong enough to carry the song for most people. I like it, because it's husky and sexy, but compared to some of the pipes that represented tonight, hers is an acquired taste.

4. Germany  - Roman Lobb - Standing Still

I usually don't do sad love ballads, but freaking all of my songs on this list are love ballads. Then again, you could argue that 99% of the songs at Eurovision are love ballads, so there's a good chance that regardless of what I pick, there is going to be a love ballad.

Anyway, I liked this, and it's not because Roman Lobb is handsome-- even though he is. It was just a nice song, and he has a lovely voice. He actually doesn't appeal to me because I don't like ear gauges very much... also he needs a shave. Either do the beard or don't. Don't be a hobo, man.

5. Italy - Nina Zilli - L'Amore È Femmina 

I'm loathe to put Germany before Italy because Nina Zilli is boss; she's so cute and friendly, especially when you see her in interviews. But I don't like this style of song, to be honest. Except this is good enough that she made me a fan of both her and the song. You could accuse me of bias, but I am not -- I freaking hated Italy's entry last year, and that ranked second. Shows what I know.

Dunneh's Least Favourite Eurovision Final 2012 Songs

1. Ireland - Jedward - Waterline

Are you phoning it in Ireland? Really? Are you all; 'hey we've won the most times so let's let someone else win for a change!' because that's very gracious of you.

I'm going to piss off a myriad of teenage girls, but... it really doesn't get more annoying than Jedward. I like cute blonde twins as much as the next girl, but they really don't do it for me. It doesn't help they still look fifteen, even though they're twenty now. And there's a difference between bubbly, youthful enthusiasm, and the spastic frenzied machinations of Jedward. They can't dance, they can't sing, they aren't even in synch-- and even their moderate amount of cuteness cannot save them in my eyes. I'm sorry teen girls of the world, I want to like them, I really do... but I just can't.

2. Turkey - Can Bonomo - Love Me Back

You can't just put some traditional instruments in there and expect me to take it seriously, Turkey-- even if the you managed to fool most of Europe with your hipster pirate rendition. I didn't like it namely because the guy was a warbler. He warbled the entire song, and maybe that's just his style, but once I noticed the wavering tone in his singing voice it kind of drove me to distraction for the rest of the song. Nonny nonny... yeah whatever.

3. Albania - Rona Nishliu - Suus

Ah, Albania. I didn't know you had just recently graduated art school."I wanna be edgy and experiment! I wanna push the line between music and art! Nobody understands me! AAAAAaaaaaa!"

I don't doubt Rona can sing-- she has a strong set of pipes. Unfortunately, she appeared to be in pain for most of the song. I'm guessing birthing pain, judging by the umbilical cord that appears to be wrapped around her neck.

4. Greece - Eleftheria Eleftheriou  - Aphrodisiac

Her name translates to "Freedom Freedom" more or less -- which I'm sure proves her parents are the equivalent of Greek rednecks.

I like to dance but I can assure you that when I "dance like a maniac" it really isn't very sexy. And I'm relatively sure that if I was attracted to someone and I busted out my maniacal dance moves, that it wouldn't look anything like what the very beautiful Miss Eleftheriou was doing, and I wouldn't have the same result she would.

In fact, I'm going to take a wild guess and assume they don't know what 'maniac' means over in Greece. Funny, because the etymology is Greek. Someone should have told them that it generally follows words like 'homicidal' and 'raving' and precedes things like 'laugh'

And let's say this was a nod to Flashdance, with the maniac reference-- which I doubt; I think it was a necessity for the rhyme, but lets just say it was a nod to it -- 'She's a maniac on the dance floor / And she's dancing like she's never danced before' isn't really a good thing to say about anyone who is dancing, especially if you want to impress someone on a sexual level. But maybe it's just me.

Anyway the song was cute, and she's gorgeous, but it was so vacuous -- even compared to the other sexed up vacuous songs this year. C'mon Greece, you can do bettter. And so sad to see Greece has so little money that they forgot half her dress though. Darn cutbacks.

5. Cyprus - Ivi Adamou - La La Love

Okay, Ivi was beautiful. She looked like Aphrodite personified; which is fitting because if I remember my mythology correctly Aphrodite is supposed to be of Cyprus-- literally. But I can't remember crap-all most of the time, so don't quote me on that. And I'm too lazy to look it up right now.

I wanted to like Ivi, I really did. But I hated her voice. She has this weird low-tone and nasal twang that really brings the song down. And the song is not that bad, but with her singing it really doesn't hit where it should. Aaaand... I have nothing funny to say here.

Honorable Mentions

1. Russia - Buranovskiye Babushki - Party For Everybody

"Partee for ebbibody.... dans..."

They had a secret weapon in the littlest one; come on. She was so flippin' cute. I wanted to pinch her little cheeks. Proof that if you're young enough, or old enough, you get cute again. So I just gotta wait till I'm seventy and people will find me adorable again. Lucky me!

Anyway it was cute, but it was gimmicky. Song-wise there was almost nothing there. Regardless, I loved them though-- and they almost made me tear up, but I would have preferred more of an amalgam between old and new, not just a 'You thought it was a traditional ballad--haha, fooled you!' moment. But it was still adorable and I'm glad they did well.

2. Lithuania - Donny Montell - Love Is Blind

He got me when he one-handed-flipped with his mike in his hand, then decided to air-guitar the heck out of his crotch. And he had an amazing set of pipes. Too bad I really disliked the song on the whole. But he has a great voice.

3. United Kingdom - Englebert Humperdink - Love Will Set You Free

I like it because it's the Dink; I don't like it because it's the UK. I like it because the Dink is awesome. I don't like it because the lyrics are cheesy. It has a great message and everything, but in my opinion it just doesn't work somehow.

I wanted to like it, because I saw Julia Zemiro interview the Dink, and he's really likeable. Even though he's seventy-six and crusty as shit now. He's still pretty great. I wanted him to do well -- but I don't think this song could have taken anyone the distance. Shame.

4. Denmark - Soluna Samay - Should've Known Better

Maybe it was the hat, (which was a tribute to a deceased friend apparently) but... somehow this failed to connect with the audience. I liked it, but I also didn't like it all that much and I can't put my finger on why. I will say that I barely noticed the hat as I was too busy staring at the female drummer with her spinning sticks and bordering-on-awkward drumming style. She was mesmerizing and somehow I want to be her. 

5. Malta - Kurt Calleja - This Is The Night

Did you know Kurt Calleja used to be an airline steward? I know because he got interviewed for Australian TV, and Sam Pang asked him if he remembered the the emergency exit routine-- and Kurt good-naturedly went through it for him. I was an instant fan after that.

He's great. And I really did like his song. It was cute, and pop, and catchy, and the guy was friendly. It had shoe shuffles, knuckle-taps, yellow pants AND a weightlifting glove! So many levels of awesomeness. I would have liked rank higher, but at least it made the final.

===

Phew. See how hard I work for you three loyal readers? Well, not very hard because I was supposed to finish this last night and put it off, but whatever. I finally mustered the energy to do it today. It's better than nothing.

Right?

Eurovision Is My Christmas - Semi 2

If you didn't already know-- Eurovision is my Christmas, really. I explain this in my previous entry. Last night, I watched the first Semi Final, and tonight I watched the second Semi.

Woah Woah Woah.

Looks like all the talent was in Semi 2.

Firstly, the favourite, Sweden. Euphoria was great, but eh. I don't know. It didn't do it for me. But the 'Swedish Ninja' with the spinning kick that comes out in the last ten seconds surely did. I've been spin-kicking around my house all flippin' night. "Euuuphooooorriaaaaaaaaa... forever till the end of tiiiiiiiime...."  KICK.

Hmm. A hyper, somewhat chubby woman doing twirling kicks around her living room on a Saturday night?

C'mon, you know that's totally awesome.

Speaking of kicks and shit, that reminds me. What the what, Lithuania? Standard heart-broken ballad, and then the guy-- who's name is Donny Montell -- just fucking one hand flips and air-guitars the fuck out of his crotch for two seconds, mid-song.

Me: Instant fan.

But If Rambo Amadeus's inspiration for his name was purportedly Rambo...  and Amadeus Mozart (always a great combination) then was Donny Montell's inspiration... what? Donny Osmond and Montell Williams?

We shall never know.

I actually didn't like Lithuania's song all that much though-- but major-props to his one-hand-flipping-air-guitar ability, which made me a little wet in the pants. But I would have preferred Belarus get through, as I liked their song better. "We are the wieners! We are the wieners!" I liked it. I am sad. I mean, yeah, it wasn't like the greatest song ever, but it was good.

And you know what? Turkey didn't do it for me either.

Yeah yeah, it has historical undertones and traditional music. Whatever. But it's the guys voice for me, Cam Bonomo. It's like he didn't know that he was representing Turkey the country, and not Turkey the bird. He's a warbler. Besides, all the props they get from the traditional instruments is nullified by the horrible lyrics.

"Hop onto my ship baby... I'll make you fly."

... it's a fucking ship. Do you know what a ship does?

Hint: It doesn't fly.

Unless 'ship' is euphemism for 'penis' -- in which case -- yeah, no. Still doesn't fly. Sorry.

Unless... well, maybe he's just that damn good.

Besides, one of the whole lines is just him repeating; "nonny nani nani naaaaa," for about ten seconds.

Yeah. Well. What do I know?

What did I like, then? I liked Serbia, I found it touching. I have no jokes there. I liked Macedonia a lot-- I like how she flips the blah love-ballad into a power ballad. Aw yeah. GUITAR.

Speaking of guitar, oh Slovakia-- with your perfect abs your and thow-back to 80s metal hair bands. I want your babies, even though you have prettier hair than me and are wearing more eyeliner than I ever have in my entire life. I can't believe you didn't get through and I wish you had... if for no other reason than to be able to ogle you and your band of hotness again.


... wait, didn't I say something about not treating men like eye candy, or some such?


Huh. Well, I can't help it, I'm getting to the 'must procreate!' age. It's very disconcerting for a woman.

Anyway, their live performance wasn't great, in my opinion, so I'm not that surprised that they didn't get through to the final. Their video clip kills, but whathisface's voice doesn't have the same strength live.

I'm pretty happy Malta got through, though. If just for the opening lines:

"Hey, look at me, and you see... that I'm into you."

Yeah, it's beautiful. *tears*

Also the explosion knuckle-tap at the start and the sideways shuffle at the end brings it home for me.

The song itself, well... it's fine. But that doesn't matter, because... yellow pants!

Um... I think that's it. I'll try to update tomorrow, but like I said yesterday-- Everything is delayed here in Australia, so we'll get it tomorrow night. I mean really delayed-- I mean, I think the result is being tallied as I write but I won't see it for another 20 hours.

Must not ruin result for myself. Must not go online for at least 20 hours.

This is going to be difficult....  me and the internet is kind of like Satsuki and the Beast from CLAMP's X/1999. If I could have the internet piped intravenously I probably would. Not to mention I'd probably write a lot faster if I was hooked up to my computer.

A girl can dream.

I guess this means I might have to... ugh, go outside or something, tomorrow. 

That's going to suck: I'm 99% sure that if I go out in the sun I might die.

Eurovision Is My Christmas - Semi 1

Sometime in 2008, I was flipping channels and I came across well, this.

It was Bosnia and Herzegovina's 2008 Eurovision Song Contest entry. And like a car crash, I couldn't turn away. I think my favourite part is when the guy, Laka, pops up from the laundry basket and sings; "With my favourite prank, I trick flora and faunaaaaaaaa!"

That wasn't even my fave entry from that year. In fact, I wasn't even sure I even liked it. I still don't know if I like it. And yet, I kind of love it and it's great. There's something about the green suit, greasy hair and the flailing about the stage that walks the fine like between genius and stupidity.

But regardless, I was kind of hooked on Eurovision ever since. I love it, I love the glitz, the glam, the tawdry half naked women, the cheap music interspersed with the rare great music, the costumes, the accents. It's 101 countries wrapped in a gaudy little bow.

And it is fucking awesome. Mostly, it's so bad It's good. But I think it's so good it's good.

So yeah, it's Eurovision weekend, which is kind of like my Christmas. And if you're not into Eurovision, well, this entry is going to be shit boring. Sorry.

Eurovision isn't big in the US at all-- so as a consequence none of my online friends shares one iota of my enthusiasm (I'm so ronery...) but it's kind of a big deal here because Australia is 'multi-cultural', and part of the natural identity is that... we borrow the national identity of other cultures.

There are a lot of Greeks, Macedonians, Italians here although... well, Italians didn't give two shits about Eurovision until last year, where they re-entered for the first time in years and years. And they came second.

Well, to be honest, most Italians still don't give a shit about Eurovision on the whole. Especially in Italy. But here in Australia too.

For the record, the entry didn't do it for me. It was too schmlatzy; and if he was going for the Bublé effect, well, I can hear it, but I don't think his voice was strong enough to pull it off. I really didn't think the song would do as well as it did.

But shows what I know.

So I'm kind of like a friendless anomaly when I watch Eurovision. Well I am in general, but in this, too.

But I get all gushy and culture-nerdy and excited.

I'm such a freak.

I get excited easily, I've mentioned this a lot.

But I just love learning about culture, and Eurovision gives me a window to places that I would have otherwise overlooked... and dream to visit.

Shit. I just realized something. Am I a closet romantic?

Fuck it, I totally am. I think I see life through rose-colored glasses.

Well that sucks.

Well, I can't help it. I have this weird sense of whimsy regarding most things, especially culture and art and the world.

I have the perpetual anime shiny-eyed-awe face.

I can't help it! Don't judge me!

... My dream is to go to Eurovision someday; any country really. Preferably one I haven't been to. Baku would have been great, because it looks amazing and wonderful and...

My Mind: "Everything is amazing! I love everything! I want to be everywhere and do everything! I love you! LETS HUG! WHEE!"

Shut up, Brain.

In Australia, everything is delayed, and I get even more delays because I'm in Perth. So they only showed Semi 1 tonight. I prefer to watch it on TV-- not the internet-- because if my brother isn't going out he'll watch with me, and it's just more relaxing that way.

So I kind of need to stay off the internet until they show the final on Sunday, or at least not look at anything so I don't ruin the result for myself. Which my ex inadvertently did one year, when he's all like; "Hey have you heard this song, 'Fairytale'? It won Eurovision this year!" When the final had just ended hours before, and they were about to show it.

Pfft. He was such an asshole, I'm glad we broke up.

I'm not a fan of spoilers.

Semi 1 was great, but I only really had two favourites in Semi 1; Switzerland and Iceland. I could take or leave the other songs, although I have such a soft spot for the Russian Babushkas. I almost cried, they were so friggin' cute.

I didn't like Iceland at first, but it has kind of power-metal undertones, which I'm a sucker for. I lament the fact I wasn't into Eurovision when Lordi won; that would have been great to watch. I am also a huge sucker for stringed instruments, and a closet romantic-- as we found out earlier, so the Iceland entry is win-win for me. It's purty and makes me feel all melancholy.

And well, I only liked Switzerland because the guys are from the Italian part; and they are kind of cute. And I liked his horrible English accent. It wasn't amazing, but it wasn't too bad either.

I swear to Buddha, though, the Moldova entry guy is like Edward Norton and Colin Farrel's love child. I freaking swear.

Anyway, I need to sleep and get off my nerd highs.

They are the only kind of high I know. *sob*

My Diary in Procrascination -- Or How to Write a Job Application

I have to help my brother write a job application. There's nothing wrong with his job in particular, but he's going for a new position in his department with better pay.

I don't particularly want to help him, but I have to.

He's my brother. But also I know I have to help him this because he's asked me to help him about ten times since Saturday. I was supposed to help him on Saturday but my date took up the entire day and so he had to work on it on his own.

"I did a bit the other day," he tells me; "...see if it's any good."

Yeah, the... result wasn't great.

Now it's Tuesday, and his application is due on Friday, and he has done part of it-- kind of-- but I'm the one who has to refine it because pretty much all he's written is useless, and I'm good at writing applications.

Essentially, I have to rewrite almost all of it. Now, I have plenty of time. I write fast, I think fast, I don't doubt in my ability to get this done. I'm not worried. I mean, I cruised by with with all-nighter essays way more than I can even remember in school. I write. It's what I do. But he obviously doesn't think I can do it, because it's all he's been asking me for four days now.


Aaand... I just got a text.

"Hey Dimes, how is the worst application ever, going? I left the USB and printout on my desk."

Really? Like where you told me it was last night? Like where you showed me it was? Like where I saw it again as I went past your room this morning? How strange that the USB didn't get up and fucking decide to take a brisk walk around your desk. Very surprising.

I actually was just about to pick up his application prior to getting his message.  But now that I'm faced with the SMS, I feel incredibly irritated. I resist the urge to scratch my butt and go back to bed. And then to browse Tumblr. Days off are great. When I can you know, have a day off. But I decide, no, even though I have three entire days to do this application, which is plenty of time-- I better do this to placate him, since he's so worried about it.

I fail. I browse Tumblr instead; but dammit there's nothing really new there since last night.

Sigh.

I open LibreOffice, because I'm too cheap to buy Word.

Then I browse YouTube for half an hour.

Aww. That kitten is having a nightmare. It's paws are all cutely twitchy. Awwwww! It got hugged close by the mother kitty. OMFARG. That's the cutest thing I ever sawed! I miss having a cat; but most of all I miss my kitty.

I wanna be a sleepy kitten, too. It looks so nice. I wanna be snugged like that...

....I want to be snugged in general. I want a boy to snug me. A cute boy. I has one, kinda. But I want like a good one. Who laughs at my jokes. Why do I have to be such a loser? Why does he not think I'm funny? Why isn't he funny? Why can't he be what I wa--

Oh yeah, the application.

Sigh.

Wait, my right eye is twitching. What the fuck is wrong with my eye? Maybe it's eye cancer. Maybe I have a an eye pustule on top of my eye cancer, maybe... great, now my left eye feels so scratchy. Must not rub it, I can get pinkeye if I get bacteria in it, right? That is really scratchy. Do I have something in my eye? Did I get an eyelash in it? This eye is always doing that. Maybe it's eye cancer in both eyes. Must not google eye cancer...

... oh God, that sounds awful. Must not Google Image Search eye cancer...

OH MY GOD.

I regret that, I really really regret that.... oh Jesus, those poor people. Shudder. Don't Google that, just a heads up.

....Must not... rub... eye... where are the facking eyedrops. Fuck, my room is messy. Maybe I should clean my room.

Ah, shit. I'm procrastinating again.

.... shit.

This is why I never get anything done.

Okay, lets do this. "Due to my vocational experience in this sector I..."

SNORE.

This is so fucking boring.

Why did I say I'd do this again? Oh wait, I didn't have a choice.

Goddamn it, this selection criteria doesn't even make sense.

WTF is wrong with my fucking right eye!? Fuck it, let me take a look. Is it twitching as much as it feels like it is? I feel like a Bond villain about to explain a death contraption. All I need is a hunch (I'm almost there due to my bad posture,) and to perfect my hand-rubbing technique and evil cackle. Wait, that's not a Bond villain, that's Igor from Young Frankenstein.

Well there's nothing in my eye and I don't notice the twitching in my right eye, so I guess I'm not dying from eye cancer.

Oh hey, a zit on my chin.

My mom rings; she's excited because they're going to re-show her play on local TV because it had good ratings. Well good ratings for a local TV station. Mmhmm. That's great. Mmhmm. Yes I saw it. Mmhmm, I know what happens, I helped you rehearse, remember? I fucking know that play inside out, I almost memorized it. Oh ten thousand people watched it. That's really neat. I'm happy and proud of you. Okay. Look, I gotta finish Jay's job application. I'll talk to you later.

"Because of my extensive experience within..."

.............. PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFT.

One of my friends in the US tells me he's going to Subway. I start browsing the Subway US site for ten minutes. Mm Philly Cheese steak. I wish I could get Philly Cheese Steak in Australia. That was like the most delicious thing ever. Sigh. I really miss the US sometimes.

Aaaargh. Okay. Back to the application.

.... what? That doesn't even make sense. What do they even want? Let me read it again; maybe it'll make more sense if I break it down.

.... no, it still doesn't make sense.

WHY can't they just say what they mean!?

I wanna bash my head against the keyboard. I wanna throw my laptop from my balcony. I wanna... oh hey, there's a bird on my window sill.

Okay, just do this. You can do this. Once you do this you can eat a pudding. You like pudding, right? Of course you do. Everybody fucking loves pudding. Except maybe those freaks that don't like pudding. Wait, why am I negotiating with myself in the third person? And why am I bribing myself with pudding? What am I? Twelve?

Mm... pudding.

.... dammit, why am I eating pudding suddenly. It was supposed to be a reward when I was done. Now I've been here like five hours straight and I have no more pudding.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu...


....

Okay, Fine. This is it. Time to pull my finger out, I guess.

"Most of my vocational experience has centered around deadline orientated positions...."

Centered? Around? Orientated? Jesus, that's a lot of directionally based nothing. Yeah, that needs editing.

I'm verbose, as I repeatedly say-- so I'm actually really good at job applications. Sure most recruiters will say to stay away from flowery language, but this is bullshit. Look at this selection criteria. It makes no fucking sense:

 "The ability to provide a range of services required in the delivery of regulation, inspection and/or compliance activities and ability to apply this to regulatory functions and services in a regulatory environment."

What? What does that even mean? A range of services in a regulatory environment? All I know is they're fucking obsessed with being regular. Like regular on the toilet? Yeah, I got your regulatory functions right here.

The fact is people are impressed by verbosity; especially if it doesn't make any sense and it seems intellectual-- and especially on job applications. The amount of job applications that both ask straightforward questions and want straightforward answers are actually pretty rare. If you find one like this, you can usually tell straight away by the selection criteria. But most of the time, It's all bullshit jargon, and you have to answer in more bullshit jargon.

And I can tell you that I have an extremely high success rate for my job applications on the whole; I could probably help people with their cover letters for a living except for the fact that if I had to do this every day I'd facking kill myself quicker than you could say "regulatory functions."

They say that you need to submit between thirty and fifty applications on average  before you're even granted an interview; depending on your field. I've never really had that problem. Three years ago, when my brother's department folded and they terminated his contract, he desperately needed another job. I wrote him five applications and he was offered five interviews. Some of the positions he was under-qualified for--including the job he eventually went for -- and yet I didn't even have to lie on the applications. Of those, he was offered three positions and he had a job within about a month.

So, I have no problem getting interviews-- somehow my applications stand out. And my brother is pretty charismatic, so he tends to ace the interviews on the whole. It's a 50/50 deal. He bullshits in the interview, I bullshit on paper.

As for me, well, I have had the same kind of success in my applications, but after I get the interview, though, It's all down hill from there. Then they take one look at me and think; 'Hey, wait, is that a female version of Igor from Young Frankenstein?'

Speaking of, my legs really need shaving. Jesus. That's gotta be at least 1cm long now. Oh hey, while I'm doing my legs, I should do other relevant parts too. You know, while I'm excelling in my task of hair removal.

Excelling in my task... oh yeah, the application.

Sigh.

I so gotta pee.

Oh yeah, my weights are out here. I keep forgetting to do that. I really need to do my weight reps this week-- I was supposed to do it yesterday. To be honest, that's another thing I keep putting off doing. This sucks, but it's better than actual exercise. But compared to writing Jay's job application, this idea of exercising suddenly seems appealing. I think I'll do some exercise after this.

Five minutes still counts as exercise, right?

Fine... whatever. I'm working on it. Really. Okay. "My ability to multitask, self-manage, and effectively organize my workload has been crucial in enabling me to successfully fulfill my obligations...."

Yeah that sounds good, I don't even understand what I just wrote.


.... Oh hey, I've finished the application. Sweet. That's not too bad, I think. Has it got the old Dimes magic? I don't know. Time will tell.

You know, I get so much shit done when I don't want to do something. Fucking A.

And hey, that wasn't so hard...

I should help my brother with his job applications more often.

Count Your Blessings My Dear -- and Don't Forget to Windmill High Five

Someone recently told me to count my blessings.

I don't know why this in particular resonated with me. I can't tell you if it was the term itself, or the person telling me, that made me take notice. But I did take notice; and every once and a while I'm reminded of what he told me. And I try to be mindful of it when I feel especially down, or when I wish I was somewhere else, or someone else. I can't really put my finger on why that in particular stood out, but in any case, it was something that I needed to hear at the time. It seems stupid, but I hold onto it, even now.

So when my date told me I looked pretty today, and seemed to mean it-- I tried to hold onto that-- and more importantly-- believe it.

I took a look around, and I said, (to myself) "Oh yeah. You know what? I don't look all that bad. Maybe I am pretty."

That was really, really difficult.

I've never thought I was pretty.

Even now, it's tough for me to take anyone who has ever told me that seriously. I feel that they're just being polite, or telling me what I want to hear -- like my long suffering ex boyfriend who'd tell me I was beautiful till he was blue in the face and I'd shrug it off, continuously. I'd even say things like, "well you have glasses, so maybe out of focus I look pretty." He'd laugh, but... part of me always kind of meant it.

Yeah. I don't take compliments well.

I think women in general have really fucked up self-esteem, especially compared to men. I'm going to take a wild guess and say it's a product of society, but that's hard to say. It's difficult to feel beautiful when you're slightly chubby and society is ramming rail-thin women down your throat, but in the same vein, if you don't fit the mold of curvaceous and big-titted, you don't fit in either. I was looking at women today, and we're all completely different, shape-wise. Nobody is the same. So why is the perception of women a dichotomy? You should either be Twiggy or Marylin and nothing else in between is either allowed-- or is sexy. Men don't help because they tend to classify you as either 'fuckable or not' even though the reality is most of them will screw anything. Anyway, this is a rant for another time, but I think it's tough being a woman and also having healthy self esteem.

It's something I've been working extremely hard at for the past two years, and I've made some progress. But I'm still not where I'd like to be, either physically or mentally. The physical part isn't as big as a barrier as the mental part, truthfully.

Am I pretty? 

I don't look unfortunate or anything. I think I'm 'pretty' -- argh, that's so hard to think, and to say. But I don't think I'll ever be a great beauty. I think I'm kind of goofy looking. My features kinda look a bit odd all together. And people call me pretty occasionally, but of course, I never really believe them.

Heh, that reminds me of something. When I went to Japan for the first time-- in 1999-- I remember Ana-san's mother complimenting my nose at one point. "Kawaii... it's... cute..." she managed, in stilted English. (Her mother couldn't speak Italian like Ana-- she could only manage English.) She basically described how when she was little, she always wanted a nose like that; 'a tall nose' -- and here she was, someone who would have been a really beautiful woman back in the day. Prettier than me, I'm sure. And there was nothing wrong with her nose. I remember thinking, 'Shit, us women are never happy.'

It's funny how my nose-- my somewhat long and wide nose-- was a source of envy for her, when I've never really liked it. Okay, It's fine. I mean, It's kinda cute I guess. It's mine and I wouldn't ever change it-- it feels like it makes my face uniquely mine-- so I'd be to scared to alter it. And It could be worse. A lot worse.

Anyway, yes, the thing at the top was eluding to the fact I had another date today, and now I'm hot and sunburned and tired. Actually I'm not that tired; because I can walk and walk and walk and I don't tend to feel it very much any longer. I'm sure my date's feet hurt more than mine in the end.

So we went to the Royal Australian Air Force Airshow today-- which was my idea. I love planes; (I already mentioned this but I love vehicles of all kinds... except maybe trucks. I don't really ... get trucks.) And I love boats, and trains. But I think I like planes the most.

.... In fact, when we go to the airport to pick someone up, or to drop someone off-- I make whoever is with me watch the landings and takeoffs on the observation deck for a while. I get excited, like I'm ten. I'm a grown woman, though. I'm old enough to know better. ...

I'm such a spazz.

But I just love watching planes take off and maneuver and fly. I guess I'm easily pleased in life... I don't know. I tend to take most things in with a sense of wonderment and whimsy. Everything can be fun to me, everything is fascinating, everything is exciting. I'm not sure what it is about flying and planes. Something about this contraption that is entirely man-made but can take off by harnessing physics and yet looks like it's defying logic is endlessly fascinating to me.

.... sheet. I tend to digress a lot.

Anyway, the Airshow was pretty sweet. Even though all they kept playing was "Fly Away" by Lenny Kravitz over the loudspeakers. I'm sure I heard it at least twice. What the fuck? You don't fucking sit there watching Super Hornet Fighter Jets to fucking Lenny Kravitz. I don't care how good the first 14 seconds of guitar is. Once he compares flying to dragon flies, (Incidentally I actually saw a dragon fly humping another in mid flight today) it's all over. Besides, everyone knows you fucking need Kenny Loggins and "Danger Zone" blaring. Did these people never watch Top Gun? Seriously?

Half of the people there today were only there because of Top Gun-- me included. Actually that movie was a little before my time...  I was too young when it came out, so I've actually never seen it-- but even I know you can't have an Airshow without "Danger Zone" or at least AC/DCs "Back in Black" on endless loop.

... so yeah, that was me shouting, "THEY SHOULD PLAY DANGER ZONE" over and over. I'm sorry. I wasn't even drunk.

Much.

I kind of had a moment today, I think it was when the Hornets did a bomb burst formation over us, where I was like: "Holy Fuck. That's it. I'll never be as cool as someone who can fly a fighter jet. My life is meaningless." Haha. I think Nick kind of felt it too, because he kind of puffed out his chest all manly-like when servicemen walked by us.

And he had good reason too. I hate to get all swoon-y girl on him, but hell-- maybe I inhaled too much jet fuel or got too much sun or something--  half the servicemen were seriously incredibly good looking today. There was no lack of male eye candy for me, even though I tried not to notice, out of respect. But I'm ovulating, dammit. I wanna hump anything that moves. It was very difficult to not blank out, you know-- thanks to all the testosterone in the air.

Of course I don't think they were looking at me all that much; there were a lot of women with impossibly thin legs and impossibly big tits strutting around today. Nick was nice enough to not stare, much. He really is a sweet guy.

Although it's kind of funny how a kind word from someone else goes a lot further than a compliment from someone who knows you or is expected to like you. 

.... unless of course that person has a kind word and a gun.

.... wait, what?

When Nick complimented me today, it felt good. And I'm trying to hold on to that. I'm trying to you know, count my blessings, and not wish I had legs to my armpits and impossibly big tits-- I don't want them. I don't want implants or anything-- I don't really want to be anyone other than me, deep down, despite my problems with confidence and self-esteem. I like me. I like my body. It's kinda cute. And I'm cute, in a weirdly odd, funny, fun, and slightly deranged way. What? Deranged? Well I'm told it's endearing.

Fuck you. It IS endearing. And if you don't agree, I'll hunt you down and make you agree-- so help me...

cough.

Oh, I mean, nothing. Sorry. *eyetwitch*

We walked by some recruitment booths today, and I kinda had this split-second where I was like, 'Yeah that's a good idea! I never realized I had a dream to be a pilot until today! Maybe I SHOULD join the Air Force!"

.... yeah. Like if I joined I'd suddenly have the opportunity to fly a jet. I can't even hold onto my chunks in a Japanese train, and yet apparently I'm both smart enough to undergo years of specialized training and I'm going to be fine in 6-G  loops and  not pass out. Right. 

Though when the jets were flying and doing hesitation rolls, and barrel rolls -- my internal fangirl was squeeing madly imagining the people inside. There were four guys inside! Real people! And of course everyone inside must be impossibly handsome and amazing and ready to sweep me off my feet when they landed.

... I know. So fucking cliche. I know. I'm sorry. My inner feminist wants to slap the me that was deliciously corrupted by a steady diet of Disney romances. It's sickening. But I can't help it!

... it's like Astronaut Mike Dexter. So amazing. And... so not real.

... I'm not even pro-military so much. This is generalizing but I kind of view service men like pro athletes -- very alpha male. Drinking and sexing. Okay I have nothing substantive to confirm that at all but it's the impression I get from those kind of guys and those kind of places. I kinda like sweet guys. I like good guys. I don't do bad boys. But something about military aircraft is insanely cool, and there's something about service men (the power factor? the 'man in uniform' cliche? who knows) which is also cool.

Maybe I can't be an F-16 fighter pilot... but hopefully I can at least date one. Such a sad thing to think. "I"m not cool but my boyfriend is!" .... that's lame. Haha. But still, it would be fucking cool.

But if I ever do date a fighter pilot, I'm totally making him greet me with windmill high fives every fucking day. Just like Top Gun.

Oh yeah.