I believe in yesterday…

Yesterday…all my troubles seemed so far away. Eh hem, sorry, I just couldn’t help myself. Anyways, yesterday was my first day back to uni after one week off for study week, or more appropriately, for some, ‘beach’ week or ‘bludge’ week, or for me ‘stress out of your brain how much you can’t bring yourself to finish your assignments, but get over it and do them eventually’ week. It was a big day, starting with passing an accident where some person drove into the ‘Welcome to Lismore’ sign on the roundabout, and ending with me having some sort of emotional breakdown for no apparent reason (humph, women! what are you gonna do? Blame hormones, that’s most likely…)

So, I’m back in class, listening to some post modernist, post structuralist, post colonial…stuff. When, bam! An unexpected emotion hits me – amusement. A brief moment when my intellectual, insightful lecturer describes a chair as ‘being in a material world’ and I immediately think of him as Adam Sandler in The Wedding Singer saying ‘ – and I am a material girl…or boy’, and how much I love that movie, and probably how much I’d rather be watching it at that very moment. Nevertheless, I am somewhat intrigued by the tutorial’s subject matter, and as usual, want to contribute my brilliant thoughts to the matter. Yet, my opinion, in this instance, is like a gastric brooding frog, not in the way that it gives birth to a bunch of tiny, baby opinions from its own mouth, but in the way that it is scarce and endangered. Oh, sure, my opinion is kicking around in my brain alright, self professing its awesomeness, but it just can’t transpose into verbal form, unless of course I had perfected my telepathic skills, unknowingly.

Well, that was the first disappointment of the day. Secondly, was the possibility of a freebie gym membership being cruelly snatched away. Nobody, I ah say nobody denies me what I think I’m entitled to. (And the importance of that sounding like Foghorn Leghorn, I don’t really know. When I make a point, for some reason, I speak like a cartoon character, a British gentleman or Pee Wee Herman…because they obviously hold more weight than myself…) I thought that apparently anyone playing a social sport was entitled to one month free gym membership at the uni gym, but it turned out that it only went to the team captain. I figured that pretty much sucked, as, if I had to sit on my bum for eight hours straight in class,  I should be afforded the opportunity to stave off blobbery and a soft mid-section. Because, don’t you know people, that there is an obesity epidemic in this country? And equally as important, an epidemic of poor uni students, whose boxing bags are so old they brake and nearly crush their dog? (exaggeration, we all know my dog is fine) But really, in other words, this is just me not wanting to pay for gym membership because I’m stingy. I did end up paying $10 casual rate to use the gym that afternoon, and I didn’t care if I nearly died of exhaustion, I got my money’s worth…

So…obviously this day was just too much excitement for little ol’ me, as at the end of the night I wound up getting all emo like I had just watched ‘A Walk to Remember’ or something (don’t deny it, that movie is horribly sad). Okay, so nobody wants to hear about someone bawling their eyes out for no reason, but seriously, what is it? A stress reliever? Maybe for me, but not for my mum trying to get to the bottom of some deep seeded personal insecurity I may have. Woman, your constant mood swings make no sense! (cue perfect segue) And neither does this blog…

So, tune in next time for another nonsensical dramatisation of my otherwise ordinary life. Bonsoir.

Tagged , , , ,

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: