blue christmas...

Of all my not so considerable 19 years, this has got to be the most unChristmas Christmas ever. Doesn't help that I'm not home most of the day to even look at the tree. Doesn't help that I have a 9 to 5 job that's more accurately 8 to 6, barring travel time.

I think I've grown too old. One driving force for the legendary Christmas magic is likely the idea you get presents and other goodies. Now, whatever I want, I can buy. Whatever I can't, I'm not likely to get for Christmas. Ignoring capitalism, the spending time with the loved ones thing, the idea just makes me depressed. Don't know why.

In spirit of the lack of spirit, here's something I came up with this afternoon:

Blue Christmas

5 ml blue curacao
15 ml gin
30 ml vodka
1 green caramelized cherry
1 red caramelized cherry

Fill a shaker with ice. Add curacao, gin and vodka. Shake well. Serve in a martini glass with caramelized cherries.

Have a fun Christmas, everyone.

validate me, please...

Sometimes I wonder if the point of finding that significant other is to validate your own existence. As I see it, living in and of itself is very much a non-issue, at least on the larger scale of things. It only becomes issue because we know, subconciously or otherwise, that we are pretty much left with nothing.

The search for a higher power is to give us a sense of purpose. Strangely enough, some people come to the conclusion that we are here to help other people. If that is so, what are the other people for?

There are people who are divinely optimistic. Then there are others, like me, who are scathingly realistic. Both types are far and few between, because we're mostly surrounded by the types who just want to live as long as they can, do as much as they can, and then die.

Face it, if there is a being of a higher level out there, we're only a jar of 3 hour live-d fruit flies busy trying to reproduce.

Want to be validated? Go get your parket ticket stamped on the way out.

at 10am...

Today is tomorrow where yesterday is concerned.

I wish it was tomorrow.

My grandmother split open a toe. I don't know how it happened, I was napping.

I made brownies. With orange and rum. Wish I had some Cointreau though.

It's not a good idea to blog when your desk is right next to the major walkway in the department.

It's times like these that you wish someone would just sit and talk with you rather than go about your work. Or at least give you something to do. Or not.

I was thinking of bringing my laptop here, except for the fact that it wouldn't be nice. Maybe I'll just bring a portable hard disk here. Hyeh hyeh hyeh. And play Fallout.

I need a faster processor for my laptop. And more RAM. And while you're at it, just get me this.

I need a holiday from this holiday. And maybe more interesting posts. And more importantly, but not as pertinent, the ability to be my quirky self with more than a handful of secret-life-options enabled.

work work...

10.15 am

Day one as an intern at some merchant bank. Delightful. I'm already feeling lost. Sitting here in this cubicle place thing. Only another 7 plus hours before home time. Whee.

10.16 am

Been told a lot of random things I'm already forgetting. Guess that's what happens when you didn't really have a clear idea of what the fuck you're getting yourself into in the first place. Heehee.

10.20 am

It's been awhile, but I don't have anything to do. Hell, I might have to resort to playing with myself *ahem* to stay awake. I do not understand the lack of workplace efficiency. I'm thinking that people tend to be more efficient when they aren't. It's the only way to explain the bloke that's intermittently reading newspapers, napping and playing random games on Yahoo! Just absolutely fah-bulous.

10.50 am

Found a copy of Forbes. Or as Evans would call it, Foh-Base.

11.05 am

They dropped a stack of previous research articles for me to read. Some of it is fascinating shit. Some of it is pointless drivel on stuff. All of it are compilations of news articles coupled with a few simple opinions put into a sleek looking format to make it all look professional-y. Or something.

11.49 am

Fallen asleep twice already. Hyuu. They don't have my passcard yet. So I get to play with this nifty remote control trigger or something. Bwahahah. Heard there's a cafeteria and some San Francisco Coffee downstairs. Hwoo.

11.51 am

Just wondering how in the Nine Hells and Seven Heavens and 5 Earths anyone can stand an office job. It's so incredibly mundane, it's boring even.

12.44 pm

Lunch break! Gotta NOT eat like this anymore. In other notes, I need a new bed. The freshly repaired junk heap is already giving way again.

2.19 pm

Sitting around reading research reports reminiscent of blog entries. This is either so the job for me (and 5 million other people around the world) or a serious lack of research type writing ethics here, or that investors are absolute dimwits when it comes to understanding fanciful writing styles. I take it all their definitions come from Encyclopaedia Dramatica.

3.41 pm

Yay! Internet connection. It's slow as a dingdong bat, and the firewall blocks Messenger, but there are ways around an eville corporate propaganda machine! Also, I have no real assigned tasks so I can fuck about until they give me something to do. Or not. Whee. Only 2 more hours to drop all balls. Except mine. I like my balls where they are.

diets...

Dammit. My bed just collapsed under my weight. That seals the deal. I'm fat.

Time to go on Liberace's watermelon diet. Bleh.

maddening...

People always say that you don't miss something until you don't have it anymore. I found that I live a lot nicer and happier when I'm away from my family.

It's difficult to live when there are people nagging you over pointless things, and pointing out every damned flaw. Like, I'm fat, apparently. More than half the family stated that most clearly at the family barbecue gathering. Also, my hair is kinda fucked and I'm wasting money.

I suppose I could easily take it all in jest, if it were actually FUNNY. You'd think they'd notice that I am far from the kind of person who can take personal appearance as a joke. You'd think also that they'd know better than to poke repeatedly at a person with some sort of history with suicidal depression. You'd think also that I could make it rain purple chocolate soda at will.

I've been accused of being antisocial. It just so happens nobody likes the things I do, and when I try to engage in their activities, I've been pointed out as ignorant and sidelined. I have no heard much, if any, positive statements since coming home. Everything from my dress to my face has been scrutinized and shot down. I have been contemplating just sitting in my room with my blanket woven into a rope tied around my neck hanging from the fan spinning at full speed.

There are fewer great disappointments than to come home and realize that they don't really seem to care if you're around or not. I just can't bloody wait to get back to Melbourne. Or die.

back...

I am. The weather, murder is. Humid, it be. Suffocating, it is.

Bored, I am.