Pre-doctor angst

You know when someone asks: “Do you like _____?”. And you don’t, but they’re scrutinising every twitch in your face to figure out whether you’re telling the truth? They’re skeptical and desperate for a slither of gossip. You have to convince them. You need them to believe you because OMG EW NO, but the more insistent you are about The Truth just convinces them otherwise and OH NOOO THIS WAS NOT INTENDED. DON’T TRY TO HOOK ME UP WITH THEM OH MY GOD WHAT ARE YOU DOING NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-

Plus I blush really easily.

Going to the doctor for a medical certificate feels the same way. Every. Single. Time.

No wait. I’ve only had to do that once before. Still, every time I’ve had to visit my doctor over the past year to say that my meds weren’t working felt the same way too, like she was going to growl at me for exaggerating how I felt or not trying hard enough. After the Worst Thing Ever (ie, the missed Juris exam of 2010), I didn’t go to the doctor for a myriad of reasons, but reason #1 was not being believed. No one wants their problems dismissed and I didn’t want to be told that yes, I could have fronted up to that exam if I wasn’t such a whiner. D: I later found that I’d underestimated her (also she is awesome and I love her). My exam transcript has a great big FAIL on it now and my chances of doing Law with Honours is probably ruined because I was a huge wuss.

…Not that I want to do Law with Honours – even an ordinary research essay slays me and I’ve yet to do one – but having the option would have been nice.

And the thing is – I’m honest. I’m overflowing with integrity and my school reports always said I was “conscientious” (so it must be true!). I’m such a goody-good I thought I was going to be Hufflepuff. Somewhat embarrassingly, this is something that I really like about myself; I don’t like to manipulate or fuck around with people and I have no respect for people who do. I am a self-righteous twat.

Now a random doctor’s going to judge how honest he thinks I am. This guy doesn’t know me. He’s a doctor at Student Health. He gets people coming in all the time whinging for a medical certificate and he probably bats them away because uni students have made him cynical. The standard is high. I kept rolling this over in my head before the assignment was due. Can you imagine the sort of crisis I’m going to have if this doctor decides that I’m just this great big faker who couldn’t be bothered doing her assignment? Not just because it’ll ruin my grade, but my self image, maaan. The more I try to convince him of my honesty, the less convinced he’ll be! Doooooooomed!

*sobs*

Coincidence and my own idiocy collided to give me a Christmas present.

I made a gamble hoping to lose… and won instead. I think that means I actually lost. Only I also won. I’m not sure. Is everyone else is as confused as I am? Excellent. As I’ve briefly mentioned in a few earlier posts, I have found a new hobby in ball-jointed dolls (BJDs). Here’s what mine looks like in bad lighting:

Look at her eyes reaching deep into your soul. The little cutie.

Part of the appeal behind BJDs is customising them. While others may have the same sculpt every one makes their own look unique, right down to the freckles and eyebrows. In fact, I ordered my doll to come with a simple default faceup, intending it to be temporary until I could commission someone to paint a fancier one. There’s nothing stopping you from doing the faceup yourself (of course!), but because it apparently takes years before you’re any good most take the same route as me and find someone with skillz. Also eughkk, doing art.

A few months back I discovered Andreja and her wispy delicate style, and decided she’d be perfect. Thing is, she’s also one of the most popular faceup artists; every month there’s a scramble of doll-obsessed freaks over just twenty available slots. One way of winning a slot is by being among the first to comment on a certain blog post. The last time she did one of these, people who had commented within the first minute were too late. Crazy.

Obvs I was going to have to try lots of times, but this was okay with me and I wasn’t planning on getting a new faceup for a few months yet… that is, until I checked my Google Reader at the exact time she updated her blog ushering in a new round of speed-commenting. Oh my.

My brain started yelling at me.

“OMG SLOTS JUST CAME AVAILABLE WHAT AMAZING TIMING GO GO DO IT NOW.”
“But I don’t even want to apply yet.”
“SHUT UP IT’S REALLY HARD TO GET A PLACE LET’S SEE IF WE CAN GET ONE YEEEES.”
“But what if we do get one??”
“…IDK LOL. DO ITTTTTTT!!!! THIS IS SO EXCITING.”

I tried applying. Just to see if I could win the game. The internet lagged and it took four attempts to post a comment … meanwhile, every time the page refreshed other people were successfully posting comments! OHHH NOO I DON’T WANT TO LOSE A GAME THAT I DON’T CARE ABOUT WINNING. That would be tragic. Then BAM!!! My comment: 7th out of the lucky 8 (the other entries would be put in a lottery to win the remaining slots). THIS IS SO AWESOME AND YET NOT WHAT I WANTED AT THE SAME TIME. SO THAT’S BAD. EXCEPT NOT BECAUSE I’M A WINNERRRRR. WAIT ARE YOU SURE THIS REALLY HAPPENED. I keep recounting the comments. Yes. It totally did. My furious typing skills were superior … at an inconvenient time… except not really. And all because I heard myself talking to myself! Oops!

I’ve since wiped her current faceup, as is required before sending it away. I love it even more now that it’s blank, which shows how unsatisified I was with it before. Can’t wait to see what Andreja does with it!

This post is dedicated to Kate, who wanted to know what this tweet was about…. and probably wasn’t expecting it to be about a stupid doll face. Hah!

TL;DR: I get to send a disembodied head in the mail tomorrow.

If I were a boy

This is something which I have oddly enough pondered for years, and with no real answer. What would you do? That is, after leaping out of bed and exclaiming, “WOAHHH THERE’S A LOT MORE THERE, AND A LOT LESS THERE THAN I REMEMBER“? I finally have this planned out, or at least, I know the first thing I’d do.

Buy novelty cuff-links:

(So what if I’ve been on Etsy and eating cake when I should be studying Jurisprudence? You would too if you’d been studying H.L.A. Hart all day. Stop looking at me like that!)

I’d pull so many chicks with these. As all should know, girls pay great attention to miniscule details, and are sure to think it charming to have lego on your sleeves.

But I wouldn’t stop there. One of my lecturers has the most excellent taste in ties. As much as I love learning about defamation (easily more than Jurisprudence, at least*), I adore his ties even more. Each one is like an LSD explosion. If I was a guy, I’d wear psychedelic ties. I wouldn’t settle for any ordinary navy.

I’d also wear sweater vests, just because I know how much chicks also dig this. There is somebody, with whom (for once), I’m only slightly infatuated. He is insightful, intellectual, and makes the most wonderfully witty observations. He is at least forty. The day he wore a sweater vest I totez jizzed in my pants. If that is even possible. Let’s not try imagining it. Regardless, I definitely remember the sweater vest more than the actual lecture I was at.

For the record, I wouldn’t dare wear one with short sleeves. It makes me think of pot-bellied 50 year old men with shiny bald heads.

I’d also never visit 4chan again. Now, I’m cool being a girl who visits 4chan. While universally accepted that girls who read through 4chan’s misogyny threads are unattractive beasts, I accepted this fact long ago. But the male equivalent of myself is this monstrous basement-dwelling neckbeard, which I find even more appalling. So, no 4chan.

Even without it, I still probably wouldn’t be that attractive, since there’s something repulsive about perpetually nervous guys. I am not thinking a sex change would cure me of any social retardism. Damn.

Nonetheless! All this really makes me wish I had a boy to dress up. He’d be so stylish, and I’d be all “D’AWWW”. He would say silly things like, “NO I DON’T WANT TO WEAR THESE STUPID CUFF-LINKS”, to which I’d reply, “HUSHHH YOU LOOK SO DASHING” and pat his hair. I get very excited when I accompany someone to Hallensteins, though sadly my hopes are always crushed when I discover he has a strict sense of style. Obviously, this explains why I have to wait until I ~magically~ turn into a boy. Uh.

The Valentine’s day special

I am so stuck for ideas that I have to exploit this holiday as much as any other tacky enterprise, whoot.

“Why are you single?”

This was sprung on me not too long ago; how do you answer that? At the time I think I stammered something and clawed around for a change of topic. Later I thought about it:

• I’m not often interested in people.
• People are not often interested in me. Lecturers are so unobtainable.

Simple enough, though I oddly had to think hard for it. The main reason’s harder to put into words but I’ll do it anyway: I don’t even care about this sort of thing. The surrounding drama and gossip’s entertaining (people are so interesting!), but I don’t have any motivation or desire for anything more. And secretly – though not anymore – the whole idea’s terrifying lolz.

Relationships end. Unless they don’t, which I think is cool and I secretly cheer on those couples. Getting into a relationship knowing it’s doomed is a waste of time, but you’re a fool if you start off thinking it’ll only end happily. I’m bewildered people risk it anyway, over and over again, just to see what happens, just in case. In the least bitter, cynical way ever, I kinnnnda really don’t see the point.

…or maybe I’m too picky

Because, idk bro. I made this list like I was going shopping for a computer.

• They must like cats.
• They must be good at writing. You must be good at texting decent replies. You must know where to put an apostrophe. You must write without cliches.
• They cannot study Law. They’ll be more interesting and less of a threat (lolz).
• They cannot have previously dated any of my friends. In high school all my friends dated the same guy, several times over. Me, I’m classy.
• Have a good memory!
• They must be unintentionally funny, thus allowing me to laugh to myself at what a loser they are.
• I’ve never really liked blonds, exception being Legolas. I’m blushing now. Fun fact: my first site was a Legolas fansite, which I started in 2002 (I also collected all the Lord of the Rings action figures, so yes, I have always been this cool).
• They have to be pretty chill knowing I’m not and will never be religious, and especially not for them.
• I can’t stand people who are against gay marriage, etc. Why aren’t you creatures extinct yet.
• They can’t have wonky teeth. It’s distracting.

Pretty much, I just think of an 1337 flatmate. Similar morals. Interesting.

Unlike other cynical singles, I don’t mind this holiday (really!). Sometimes the chocolates and flowers ask me to consider changing my mind, but it’s probably because I like pink a little too much! Occasionally I use use Valentine’s Day as an excuse to buy stuff for friends, and I love that it’s another day for people to realise they have a few reasons to be positive. I hope people think of it like that, anyway. Little paper hearts all ’round~