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Dear Varya,
Please note that the Psychology Department has not received your essay. This essay was due Monday 28 April 2008. You are currently 2 days late. You will incur a late penalty of 5% for every day that you are considered late (please refer to the level 2 and 3 manual for more information).
Please note that each piece of assessment for this subject is a hurdle requirement. Therefore, to pass the subject, you must submit your lab report.
If you have any questions, please feel free to contact me.
Thank you,
A-- S--------
Course Co-ordinator
I know it's telling me that I'm a failure, but somehow it still made me feel special that they sent me a personalised warning. ^//_//^
Var
sent a postcard on 4/30/2008
Yay! OMG. Most exciting news since I moved into the new apartment: we have internet!! Now this is groundbreaking stuff, peoples, cos not since I moved out 3 years ago have I had internet in the actual place where I live. Years I have spent going to the office to download lectures or the university computer labs late at night to do last-minute research for lab reports. No more! Sure it cost me a pretty penny but it is wireless and oh-so-fast (ADSL2+, baby!! >=D).
So hopefully this easy access will encourage me to post to this blog more frequently. Now the only thing left is for something interesting to happen in my life...-_-;;
Var
sent a postcard on 4/23/2008
The boys...
...they make me crazy.
Var
sent a postcard on 4/20/2008
Rest in peace, Cheesecake.
We will always remember you by the nibble marks on our lecture notes, expensive textbooks and electrical wiring.
<3 September 2005 - 5 April 2008
Var
sent a postcard on 4/20/2008
I wonder if they realise how much damage they do to me.
I want you to close your eyes and think about the person which you love and care about the most. Picture this person. This person is probably the first person to whom you would turn if you were ever feeling down or frightened, the one with which you feel safest. If this person were in trouble, in pain, suffering in any way, of course you too would feel concerned, you would care and want to protect and comfort them. No doubt this person is also someone who you speak to and see fairly often.
Now imagine this: this person whom you cherish most suddenly acts as if you don't exist to them. Every time you reach out when you need help, they turn their back. Phone calls, messages, emails, letters all unanswered. When you see them, their eyes breeze over you as they walk away, not even a word of acknowledgement.
They do not hate you. They do not not-care about you. You simply do not exist to them.
I was on a tram and I pressed the button for my stop. The tram stopped but for some reason the only door that opened was the top one. Some other people got off but by the time I reached the door, it had already closed and the tram had moved off. I frantically pressed the button again, looking towards the tram driver in a silent plea, but his eyes were fixed straight ahead, isolated within his little perspex cabin. He didn't see me waiting at the other door, didn't see me waiting at this door, had no idea I was there at all. The tram pulled in at the next stop. I got off.
The tears lasted far longer than they should've.
Var
sent a postcard on 4/02/2008
Is this what growing old is?
I looked back recently on photos of myself from two years ago and I looked so much happier. These days I don't even like having photos taken and if they are, I'm either not in them, not smiling or only smiling because I've been drinking far more than my liver can handle. I guess that's not entirely true; some of them I'm smiling, but somehow it seems less than the ones from before...like, less sincere, less open, less real.
I looked at myself back then and I had this funny thought: "I guess I was pretty young back then." My mind was also chasing "I will never be as happy as I was back then when I was young". Back then I cared less about my looks and there's something very clean about seeing a face without make-up. The only styling I did with my hair was blow it dry after a shower and it had this messy, untamed look which could only speak for the carefree (read: lazy) attitude of a youngster. I dressed more like a tom-boy and had this rule of never wearing skirts; my regular wardrobe included tracksuit pants and large, baggy hoodies, which is reminiscent of how much less gender matters to children - it doesn't matter whether you get mistaken for a boy when you're 8, but walk into a bar with a short hairstyle and people reckon you're a dyke. All my friends in those photos were the same age as me whereas now, all my closest friends are older to considerably older than me - a tribute to my dedicated running of the corporate rat wheel.
It's hard not to relate the person who I've become to events which occurred and people who I met back in the first year I moved out of home. That was when my life completely changed and opened up. I had so many opportunities and ideas for planning the future. Then just as suddenly, the year closed and with it, my world. Closed and regressed till I became a worse person than I was to begin with.
Time heals everything, is what people say. But by "time", they actually mean "forgetting". I have tried and I can't forget. It continues to burn and rot away this huge hole in my soul and one day I think it might just swallow me up.
Now when I was a kid, I was always a huge romantic. This continued on and when I found love, I was still under the impression that it could conquer all. It was this core belief, this religion of mine that allowed me to stay strong and optimistic, but two people really showed me how wrong I was.
Love isn't enough. That is what they taught me. That is what they beat into me until it became my core belief.
But I can't help that tiny bit of rebellion, that bitter part of me that looks around and sees love overcoming all odds.
After being abused for so long by the one she loved, L was left so jaded that no one she dated lasted more than a couple of months. Finally she found one unlikely candidate and despite the fact that she had come to me many times before with tears in her eyes, full of anger or filled with insecurities, the two were able to work it out and now they are living together.
Despite slight language barriers and extreme age difference, D was able to find love in a couple of months of dating. She had to move away, but they maintained contact with, at the very least, a phone call a day. He always understood the reality that if she found someone else up there, they would be over, and the same for him, but the two never wanted to be with anyone else. She finally came back and they spent a few blissful weeks together in which he even introduced her to his parents, who loved her. She has gone back to her home country now, but they have made plans together for her return and he is looking for a bigger place which they can both share.
P loves with her whole heart and it took two assholes to take her for granted before she finally met one who adored her as much as she adored him. Whenever you see them together, her arms strung around his neck, head tilted up to shine that honest, affectionate smile up at him, his own tenderness reflected back in his words as he speaks to and of her, you know that they are strong.
Despite their strict cultural rules, D and R have stuck together for four years. When with friends, they don't often touch, but anyone can see in their eyes that they are a couple.
S went back to her home city for a fortnight and fell head over heels in love in less than a week. Now she is moving back there for good, for him, and ever since making the decision, everything has fallen in place for her. She has been offered a place to live, a high-paying management position and even succeeded in getting a loan for her brand new car. It might seem spontaneous but she has never seemed happier or more sure of anything since I have known her.
I see bits of my past in these friends of mine who have been fortunate enough to find true love and that bitter part of my always rages, "Why? Why wasn't our love that strong???" But it is that bitter part which is pushing me little by little. Seeing them get through it, hearing the problems and seeing them resolved, seeing the open love connecting these people by an invisible bond, slowly I'm starting to believe again.
Maybe, just maybe, love is strong. Maybe it can conquer all.
I went to a Jack Johnson concert recently and so many of the lyrics reached out and touched me. Here's one for you.
No, wait - one for us.
There's no combination of words I can put on the back of a postcard
No song that I can sing but I can try for your heart
Our dreams and they are made out of real things
Like a shoebox of photographs, sepia tone lovin'
Love is the answer at least for most of the questions in my heart
Like, "Why are we here?" and "Where do we go?" and "How come it's so hard?"
Not always easy and sometimes life can be deceiving
I'll tell you one thing it's always better when we're together
It's always better when we're together
I miss the days when you missed me.
Var
sent a postcard on 4/02/2008
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