Monday, July 28, 2014

This post may or may not contain sexual references.



*Disclaimer, This post contains graphic sexual references and should not under any circumstances, be read by my dad.

So I have been really crazy here, mostly using up all my creativity elsewhere. Creativity can be a limited resource, I mean, it’s endless don’t get me wrong, it’s just that you can only use so much of it before you have to let it rebuild again.

That and I have been learning academic writing... You know, so I can use it to learn about creative writing. O_O.

 Academic writing I am finding,  is a lot like blog writing, only with no swears and more words like; Principally, therefore, in addition to.. And so on and such shit.

Last week I had two essay’s due and a maths exam. Essays are fine, I do enough writing to laugh in the face of pretty much any word count, but honestly... I am rubbish at maths, like really REALLY rubbish at maths. My brain just doesn’t work that way, I don’t retain it, I loathe it and no.

My math teacher is lovely. She is a kindly woman, whom smiles at me from over the top of her glasses when I actually understand something, she acts genuinely proud when something stays in my head. She doesn’t have to be like that, she is teaching grown ass adults and not kindy kids, but I can’t help but feel like maybe my whole outlook on maths would have been different had I have had a teacher like her when the fundamentals for maths were being laid in my brain.

Heh... being laid.

Anyway, I have found that in order to get a passing mark for maths, I have to REALLY try, and REALLY study hard and have a bit of a cry,  hold back an impulse to kick furniture and get stuck into it for anything to stick in my brain. More than that though, I have had to tell my inner control freak, perfectionist whom fears public failure, to harden the fuck up, that a pass is enough.

Truth is, that I have never been the type of person to be happy with just passing, If I am going to do something, I have to conquer it, know it backwards and get the best marks I know I can. Because I am competitive with myself and I have deep seated, control type issues.

So, so many issues...

A friend of told me recently to give myself a break; I was entering an Arts degree, not in the running for a Nobel Peace Prize.
Fuck him, he was right.

I am pretty confident that I passed the Maths exam, (Touch Adam Levine's wood) I guess we will see. 

So to celebrate all the examining and handing in of various assessments, this weekend I Iet my hair down in the form of a night out with my sister. We packed our overnight bags, some wine, some music and took off for dinner and drinks, before staying the night at our Dad’s house because he lives within walking distance to our chosen night spot and he was out of town. Dinner, drinks and stumbling home to dads to crash on his lounge. 

We actually partied like we did in 1999.

We repaid dad’s kind hospitality, by printing out five pictures of Willem Dafoe and placed them in random places and picture frames around his house. Let’s see how long it takes him to notice.

How long do you think it would it take you to notice this face peering out at from a frame on the bedside table? Hmmmm?



Wait.. If dad reads this post, he will know. I will have to add a sex disclaimer at the top of the post so he wont read it.

*My apologies if you only read this because you expected sexual references... My apologies, and slight judgment, followed by supercilious and wary side eye, you dirty, dirty little fucker.
xx