Tick tock

My Visa application was successful, but I'm still thoroughly annoyed at the fact that I wasted the entire day away waiting aimlessly for my Visa document that was expected to reach my door step at "any time between 9am and 6pm". And guess what? It didn't arrive at all. Urgh I hate such irresponsible courier service companies that don't even bother to notify you of a delayed/cancelled delivery. But that aside, at least that's one more huge load swept off my shoulders. The entire application process confused me more than chemistry and physics combined did. (Also, did I tell you the story of the girl who forgot to bring her passport to apply for her Visa? Yup, that's me.) Now all I'm left with is registering for my bank accounts, buying all the necessary shit I'll need, planning my orientation schedule, dealing with temporary goodbyes and mentally preparing myself for a torturous 16h flight, then I'm ready to pack up and leave. About one and a half month to go! 50% stoked, 50% not (don't worry my friends, I'm not that eager to leave you yet).


I know this looks really commercial but hooooly shit I think I'm gonna love it.

Team honey dijon

Making life decisions is like grocery shopping. Fall for honey dijon chips and you'll always go back to honey dijon over and over again. But then one day comes the 2-for-1 deal. What should you do? "Would two packs of honey dijon make me feel sick? How about one pack of honey dijon and another pack of black pepper?" You didn't quite fancy black pepper the other time you tasted it, but you still go for it anyway for the sake of variety.

You see, the thing about people is that they are always craving for variety, because uniformity is always seen as boring. You think that switching between options makes you interesting, even though deep down inside you already know what you want and what suits you best. This isn't about not trying out new things; go ahead and try all the flavours as you wish, but don't go back to something you know you don't like.

So, lesson learnt: Stick to that damn honey dijon. You and I both know you'll never touch that pack of black pepper.

From the bed

That much needed company comes in the form of a .M4A file tonight, singing me to sleep. I'll see you in my dreams. 

Tough luck

Sooooooo... I just received my offer of accommodation last night.

I mean it's great that:

1) Even the smallest rooms in Ashburne Hall are bigger than the average room sizes in any other hall.
2) The shared bathrooms are amazingly huge and there is a laundrette.
3) It has a very English-styled mini library which qualifies for future Instagram posts (hah).

BUUUUT...

1) It is catered and Mondays are meat-free Mondays. Not that I have a problem with veg but no meat?! Also, catered means I don't get to domestify myself.
2) It is a 30-minutes walk away from main campus. I either walk to death or spend on transport.
3) Situated in the legendary social scene, a quiet Friday night will never exist again for me (or at least it can but with a price of being seen as unfriendly).
4) It is all girls at undergraduate level. I did not know that before I picked that as an option, and that sucks because I do need my fair share of male company as well as much as people don't like to admit that they do.
5) Generally everyone who has been allocated to Ashburne doesn't want to be in it because of the all-girls issue...
6) Appeal success rate barely reaches 5%, with the risk of losing your guaranteed spot.
7) Switching to private halls is out of the question because it is overpriced and entirely devoid of social life.



I have the worst luck when it comes to such important factors of my life. WHY???

-

There's a fine line between being old enough to understand and being old enough to have the ability to give a fuck. Settle your own god-damn problems and leave me alone because what the fuck do you expect from a twenty year old who has her own fucking pile of life challenges to deal with.

No, I'm not okay, okay?

As much as I try to hold it in, I'm very not okay. I have two grown-ups bickering like children at home all day and gambling with my faith. I have two sisters of tender age to protect and hold my tears back for when I retreat back to the only place I can hide myself from everything else — under the blanket. I have a grandmother whom my heart aches so much for but for whom I can't do much (do you know what it feels like to be so useless?). I have a very blissful home, but a screwed up family of feuds and animosity. I have so many things I wish I could avert my attention to, like making sure I spend every single last moment here wisely with as many people as I can. I also have less than two months to solve all these puzzle pieces and pull myself together, but the only thing I do not have is enough time. How could I possibly bear to leave then?

So no, I'm not okay. No, I don't want to talk about it, and no, you cannot do anything about it or give me any useful advice. But yes, you can simply let me be and understand that when I say I can't hang, what I really mean is that I have shit to deal with where I am needed. And you can make me feel better by pretending you don't know anything about it and maybe not placing any unnecessary pressure of any form on me by asking me to think. I don't have the strength to think.

Reciprocation

Isn't it selfish, how reciprocation is often treated as an obligation? And the deficiency of it somehow ends up as a fault, as though non-compliance is unethical. It's like buying someone coffee, and then expecting the other party to join you for coffee dates every other week. I'm not saying you shouldn't be grateful for free coffee, but why do I feel like I have "ungrateful, arrogant cunt" stamped on my back when I refuse for more coffee? I mean, I don't know man. Some people like me just don't like coffee... or the person who bought it...