Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Sometimes life really does throw funny things at you. You may be stressed out about work (being too Scandinavian) or school (being too far behind) or men (which are non-existent) or even friends, but it seems to me that every single day has its own way of making you laugh or just smile at the irony in life. I had a brilliant day today. In my Writing, Rhetoric and Persuasion class we had to debate. OH. THE. HORROR. Just the mere thought of having to argument for why R-rated games should be banned in Australia and also having to make it consistent and eloquent, with only like 20 minutes to prepare. Painful. Although I guess I should be happy my group didn’t get assigned the negative group that argued against naming and shaming sexual offenders. But although I was absolutely dreading this ordeal, once we got up there it was all about the fun; the art of rhetoric, but the fun in it too. The highlight was definitely classmate Allan’s passionate speech about Australia and its values in rehabilitation, not punishment. At the end of my tutorial I finally approached a British chap I’ve been meaning to speak to for weeks; he’s one of those quirky characters who says the most inappropriate things but still manages to charm the class into laughing. And I had the most relaxed and fun afternoon I’ve had in a long time. Sometimes the rental renewal lease and the five managers and the school work and the disappointments can get you down. But it’s almost as if life knows exactly when you’ve had enough and need just a little cheer-up. Thanks, circumstance.
Friday, August 5, 2011
There comes a time, I suppose, when you realize that you can’t control or change or monitor anyone but yourself. I reckon it’s the most nerve-wrecking, gut-wrenching, horrifyingly anxious point in life. It’s also peaceful, once you accept it for fact and move on. The unrequited love of Gigi and Iris is at least in the former case a result of impatience. I am myself a class victim of this characteristic, because once I even sense a hint of affection (this strangely enough only applies to romantic affection) it all needs to move at a hundred miles an hour or more (preferably more). Not to say that I need to go somewhere fast, but it suddenly escalates from comfortable, casual and chilled to horribly intense, impatient and inconsistent. I AM Katy Perry’s hot and cold, because all of a sudden feelings are involved in the game, and that’s when the batting and the hitting and the running becomes real important. If you miss or slow down you might end up getting hurt. And God forbid that someone else should take charge over the steering wheel; if you give up the stick, you are no longer in control of direction, speed or safety. You are trusting, and opening up to something that could potentially hurt, and so it’s seems better to keep both hands firmly on the steering wheel and your body tucked behind the safety belt. The flipside to this coin is that if you never let go, you never get surprised. In other words, the love or affection or passion can never be requited, cause you are in charge of every little detail. And still, while being impatient, you expect a surprise. But unless whoever your like of the week or month or year is capable of taming a lion to start speeding next to the car or igniting fireworks while stuck on the ride, crafting a surprise is absolutely impossible. I know I’ve wrecked quite the number of potential somethings by forcing them to stay put while I take the wheel. It becomes such a forceful passion that eventually they are bound to slowly open the door, unlock the safety belt and hope for the best as they jump out of my crazy world that speeds on at an unmeasurable pace. To all past and future victims of my rollercoaster, I apologize.