I also did a lot of shopping. I think in total, I must have spend something like NZD $1500+ in both countries together. It was a lot of fun. I definitely recommend going to Thailand for a holiday. It is incredibly beautiful.

Post more later.

So me and my friends were talking about periods and I said that I dread mine because when it comes, it’s … for the lack of a better word, extremely excruciating. For me, the day before and the day it starts are the worse. I want to throw up, I can’t eat, I can’t move … and it feels like I’m giving birth to my guts. I’m constantly nauseous and most of the time, I’m literally curled up over myself just to ease the pain.

It wasn’t always like this. But about four years ago, this pain started and as each period comes, it’s like … it’s getting worse. I told my doctor (when I finally took my friend’s advice to go see him, yes my doctor is a guy), I told him that I remember one time it was so bad, I had to sit in a lecture theater for three hours because I knew that if I stood up, I would have thrown up right there and then.

So I repeated all those and extra details that only doctors should know and he said that it sounds quite serious. My heart just about sang hallelujah. I never went to see him about this before because I heard about other women complaining about period cramps and I have no clue what the hell is a period cramp. For me, it’s either no pain (in the early days) or extreme pain like what I go through when my period comes. So that’s why I was curious how can these women who have period cramps can still stand up and walk and go to work. It was … absolutely unfathomable.

So then the doctor ask me what do I take to alleviate the pain, and I told him I took nothing because 1) I don’t know what will alleviate the pain and what makes it worse and 2) I couldn’t swallow anything even if I got some painkillers on hand as I would have thrown it right back up.

So he sent me to the radiologist for an ultrasound as he said it could be Endometriosis. The ultrasound wasn’t the most comfortable experience, to be quite honest. It was a pelvis-abdomen scan and I had to have a full bladder and must not have any food six hours prior to the scan. My scan was at 2PM. I survived on high sugar-content orange juice from 7:30AM to 2PM. And while I was waiting in the reception area, two pregnant women came and went for their ultrasound scan. And both had to tell their radiologist to give them a few more minutes to wait for their partner to arrive.

Maybe it was just me, but I swear they were giving me a funny look. Hard to describe, but I felt like I was being judged. But I couldn’t really tell them to shove it because my mind was on when I can go to the toilet. Honestly, the combination of having to hold your pee in and the radiologist pressing the scanner on your pelvis is one of the hardest must-not-embarass-self-by-peeing-pants situation.

Uhm, yeah. So that was about two weeks ago. I’ve been tossing between panicking that it may be Endometriosis and I will probably have to go for surgery, and moments of calmness where he can prescribe me birth-control pills to control and perhaps minimize the pain. I have to go see him soon again as my temporary Naproxen he prescribed me has only one refill left.

The next period is coming along and I can feel the … I guess slight pain already. I’m bracing myself like usual but sad as it seems, I feel a bit better equipped with the Naproxen going everywhere I go. As I’m typing this, I feel like my ovaries/kidneys are contracting and expanding constantly. About 24 hours ago, there’s been slight pain around my pelvic bone. Yeah, I’m pretty ready to pop those Naproxen pills like candies once the full blast of it hits.

This waiting around for the doctor to interpret the ultrasound results is also killing me slowly. Just fucking call me and tell me what’s happening. Please!

So, I’ve had a couple of days to think and I guess I wasn’t on my best behavior so I’ve asked her if she wanted to have a dinner this Friday. Just the two of us, where I’ll be on my best behavior. The ball’s in her court now.

Half of me wants to prostrate myself before her begging for forgiveness, but the other half of me tells the other side to fuck off because we had the right be angry. I think both side has a point hence, no side wins but we’ll see how this plays out. I’m a bit more calm now, my head is a bit clearer and I just need to stay calm and cool.

I knew I was so close to breaking point, I had to let steam out somewhere and it just happened to be here and as much as I would like to apologize for the bad behavior, I just can’t. Maybe people will view in me in a negative light now, and really, I still need a little more time before the festering stops.

Maybe I just need to completely stop thinking about it.

So on Friday was the friend dinner and the organizer of the dinner decided to invite Flora. When I found out Flora was invited, I knew it was bad news. There is a reason why I considered her close to me up until a few months ago.

After a few years of friendship with Flora, we were talking about life problems and bitching about it like usual when it was her turn to bitch about her boyfriend. So bitch, bitch, bitch and…well, I guess I could sum up our friendship with this sentence from her to me. “Oh, you’d never understand my boyfriend problems because you’ve never had one.”

Wow, that is some profound shit. I’m just so damn fucking glad you’ve opened my eyes for me! I mean, really. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I didn’t know I ranked so low in your eyes, I guess…I didn’t even register in your brain that I considered you a close friend whom I really respected and trust! Thank you again. I’m just really grateful for that eye-opener.

After that…I got caught up in university which helped me avoid her. Until last night which was my birthday dinner with friends. See, she warned us that she had “big news”. That had already set off alarm bells in my head cause I know she loves attention and probably couldn’t bear the thought that I, this lowly being that doesn’t even compare to her A+ life, was the center stage for this birthday dinner! If it wasn’t my birthday, I would love to have given her the attention, but since it was my birthday, well, she should go fly kite.

Guess what her big news is? She’s pregnant with twins. Yay. See, I would have been a little bit more enthusiastic if she just not said it at all on my birthday dinner, or well…she could have just said it and left it alone humbly. But well, I don’t think she ever knew the word “humble” existed, let alone what it means. All throughout the dinner was the topic of how she broke it to her boyfriend, how she broke it to her family, how she broke it to her boyfriend’s family, how she’s taking supplements from her doctor, how her ultrasound is, how the ultrasound looks, what she can eat, what she can’t eat, how the morning sickness is, how craving is the supposed natural call from the body to eat what she’s lacking for her babies blah blah blah and it just went on and on and on.

You know, I shouldn’t have been angry about this. I shouldn’t be shocked about this. I should have expected this fucking “surprise”. As they say, fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me. I guess this is a shame-on-me situation. And it really is. I should have expected no less from her.

But you see, there’s a reason why I’ve got a new group of close friends and it’s because they can see the limelight-seeking shit act you’re putting up on my birthday and yeah, they weren’t impressed. I guess this lowly being just can’t be bothered putting up with your shit any longer.

And you know what takes the cake? The fact that she’d use anything, including her pregnancy to make sure she gets all the attention. I mean, all the Facebook congratulations and loves from her other friends weren’t enough, holy fuck. Oh no, she’s got to make sure people at my birthday dinner had to be sufficiently in awe of her. I’ll admit it, I am in awe of her. In awe of her selfishness. And in awe at how dumb I was.

She’s just a receptionist, her boyfriend is a salesperson at a technology store. They were living in a rented flat in the city, but they’re moving back to their parents because well, I guess they don’t have the money to support themselves through this joyous occasion. What an A+ life. She doesn’t think long term about the babies she’s carrying. Those are two lives that are depending on her, and they way she talks about it, it’s just another tool for her to get more attention. That’s what disgusts me. She said she had depression, then she found out she was pregnant blah blah. Bottom line is, she got knocked up, she’s just another accidental teen pregnancy just minus the “teen” in that phrase. The whole joke about it is that the way she phrases it is as if she wanted to have babies, that she was ready.

And I can tell she’s not fucking ready. She’s ready when she stops thinking about herself for one fucking second and put someone else first.

I’ve got another friend who had a beautiful baby girl at 19 and she’s not another accidental teen pregnancy because she wanted a kid since she was 15. She gave up a lot to have that kid. Four years down the track? She’s living with someone steady, the daughter is incredibly beautiful, and even though the mother’s not married, it’s a steady environment and the daughter is not some tool for her. The kid is as is, the kid she wanted for so many years.

Nonetheless, this is a long rant, I need to head out to my uncle’s 50th birthday dinner where I will be allow him to celebrate his birthday. Despite all my anger, I wish Flora all the best with her twins because as cold as it sounds, I do not want any contact with her or her twins ever in my life. And I hope, I’ll never be like Flora.

When asked how they are bringing in some money into their pockets, they said that none of them worked. If you want to, it’s best if they helped out with lab demonstrating to the under-graduates and maybe the tutorials. But that’s it, because otherwise, it’s too time consuming.

At this point in time, I’m not willing to let go of this current job. I’ve been working since I was 16 and this is the first decent place that I’m at. After working for a boss who thinks me working until 7:00pm daily is me being “unenthusiastic” and another boss who thinks that he can bully me, I am NOT going to be a fool and quit this first decent job I’ve even been at.

But I shouldn’t get my panties in a twist at the moment as I’ve still got two years to go and my grades are nowhere near a B+ average, let’s be honest here. Let’s be realistic.

The post-graduate students who came to talk today said that the study can be fun sometimes, and I have no doubt it will be fun as I enjoy my labs (sometimes). But at this point in time, the cons far outweigh the pros and I don’t think it’s worth it for me, personally.

Moving on…had another soccer game today. My team won…yay, we are celebrating. But why am I not in this joyous mood? I feel like a fake for reasons that is just too convoluted in my head to express here. I’m way too tired, way too irritated, way too crassed off…just…can’t be bothered.

The two really good players on our team had to be substituted today because they had other arrangements. Hence, I think we loss. But on the other hand, maybe the other team either cheated their way into our Grade 5 category…or they are the best team in the Grade 5 category. It was a mixed team category and so each team had to have at least two girls on field.

So the opposition had two girls and the other three guys were quite good. They were fast, co-ordinated and communicating. But they were also incredibly aggressive. This is a social category, NOT competitive. So please, put the aggression aside. Have fun, please be gentle on my foot.

I’ll be first in line to admit that I’m either THE worst girl on our team, or one of the worst. I feel like I am. I can get the ball from the opposition, but once it’s within my feet, I’m lost. I kick it to my nearest teammate. And sometimes, that is costly.

One of the guys actually said that I have to calm down. Once I get the ball, I have to calm down and think. Think. Where am I going to kick the ball. And it’s like, I am trying to think. But with the opposition cramping my style of thinking, I can’t think! I didn’t say this to him, of course. But I did take on-board their advice that once I get the ball, DON’T just kick it away. Stop the ball, and kick it in the direction you want.

But another person said that I am not the worst player because I get right in the thick of it. I’m “in their face”, word-for-word what she said. And I admit that I am slightly “in their face”. Because if no one is in the thick of it, who’s going to get it? My logic is, they see an opposition coming, hopefully they’ll lose their cool and…just kick it away. It’s better the ball be flying somewhere, than just being dribbled between an opposition’s feet. Then my teammate has a chance to get the ball.

Today’s opposition had a female teammate (as expected), who was a real fuck-face giver (unexpected). Read above regarding social category. One time I had the ball and was trying to fend her off, or maybe I was trying to get the ball of her, she kicked my foot incredibly hard. This was pains-and-needles feeling. It was painful. Not five minutes later, it happened again! It hurts. Really. I think one time, I accidentally ran into her or something, I said ‘sorry’ and she gave me a fuck-face worth an Academy Award nomination. I guess she might be pissed because the ball went away from her. Too bad.

Another time, I didn’t hear the referee whistle to stop and I accidentally kicked the ball away from her and she gave the dirty look again. Bitch, you bring that face to me, I’ll give it a nice reshaping it needs. Asshole.

All sore-loser-feelings and bitch-please aside, this was and hopefully continues to be a fun activity.

Yesterday night…”Oh yeah, hehe, you’re paying for yum char. Oh goody!” Yes, I’m paying.

Today, before we left the house…”Oh, that’s right, you’re paying. Don’t forget your card!” Yup, I’ve got my card.

At the restaurant, just after we sat down. “Remember who’s paying, OK?” Yes, I know. I’m paying.

The first round of food comes and I wanted a prawn dish which was slightly on the expensive side, but we declined because she said that there’s a cheaper version coming. OK. “Remember, who’s paying OK?” Yes, I’m paying. Second round of food comes and mother is settled as she got some food.

Third round came and I was going to get two dishes of the prawns. She said only one dish and when the waiter left…yep, you guessed it. “Remember who’s paying OK? You’re paying.”

This went on for another few minutes until it was either tell her that I KNOW I’m paying, or walk out. The latter, I thought was incredibly…rude considering it’s meant to be her birthday lunch with the family. So the former, it is. “Mum, look, I know I’m paying so please stop saying that. I know I’m paying.”

Then she throws a big tantrum saying that she was just reminding me, helping me to be “frugal” and since I don’t want her to say anything (where the hell did I told her to shut up for the whole meal?), she’s not going to say anything. I can order whatever the hell I want, instead of letting her decide.

Great. It’s now suddenly my fault. Excellent. Then I told her that that was not what I meant. I’m just saying please stop repeating/reminding me that I’m paying. I know I’m paying. I’m not mute. I’m not jobless. It’s your birthday, it’s meant to be a family meal, I’ve budgeted $100 for the four of us, let’s just eat and let ME worry about how much it’s going to total up to.

She’s still throwing tantrum, I’m still trying to explain, and my dad is kicking my ankle (which is incredibly sore from soccer) and I just gave up. I told her, you do what you want, I told my dad to stop kicking my ankle because it’s sore, and I didn’t eat after that. Lost my appetite. So I rested my head on the window sill, and fell asleep.

When I woke up, dad already took the bill and paid for it.

I would feel bad about the whole thing, but I don’t. Why? Because my brother was also trying, in his own way, to tell my mother to stop telling me “who’s paying” and “you’re paying”. It’s not just me. I told my brother that to save myself this kind of trouble, I’ll just buy her a nice box of chocolate and be done with it, instead of having a repeat performance like today.

I’m sick and tired of trying to do something nice, and having tables turned on me. You want to do this, fine. But don’t do it to me. I’m sick and tired of always looking like the bad guy. At the end of the day, people in the restaurant thinks I’m the bitch. Great. Thank you very much, mum, love you too. ♥

I’m not too sure whether I want to laugh it off or bury my head in the ground and never ever surface until it goes away. Whatever it is.

I can’t believe I did this…

Thanks to PSC, Pshero, Gnrbishop, DJSoundWav and InvisibleSnow for the making of the above. And of course, Tom Felton and Snitch Seeker for the incredibly lovely images of Felton. Forgive the shoddy skills at work. I haven’t made anything decent in Photoshop in oh, a good seven years. Took me two hours. The notes on the paper are my actual notes for university on I think, fertilization and cell regulation.

I was in a car with a couple of friends and we started talking about Harry Potter and they know I have this ridiculous crush-thing on Draco Malfoy/Tom Felton. I said when I see him, he makes me go hnnng. That’s pretty much all I can think of when I see him. And one of my friend said I should use that hnnng emotion, and channel it to soccer. Then maybe I can kick farther, and play better.

I think it’s because I’m currently on my holiday, not much to do except work and so my brain thinks it can toy with me. Just wait until university starts back up in a weeks time. Hah! By then, I’ll see a picture of Felton and I’ll be all “Yeah, he’s not too bad. No hnnng though.” Take that, brain! Just you wait!

Just one more sneak peek. He he he.

On a…another note, I’ve been accepted to the Quilting Bee. To be honest, I’m quite surprised as my pixelling skills are next to zero. But I’m hoping to…improve it over the…time that I’ll be there. I’m looking forward to it, to be honest.

This whole entry took me close to three hours. It’s now 2:45 in the morning. I have soccer practice in about eight hours time. I need to sleep. Batgirl, out.

Moving on, I just remembered a Livejournal Harry-Potter role-play community that I use to just kinda…lurk about. The main community is called Hogwarts is Home and to get in to this fun, you had to apply at the “sorting” community. Now, this is where it gets interesting. The last time I checked the sorting community back in probably 2008/2009, there were A LOT of applicants who got “squibbed/muggled”. And if I remember correctly from back in the days, applicants who got the dreaded “squibbed/muggled” were not accepted into the community and not allowed to re-apply either at all, or for at least one year. Pretty harsh…

I admit, some applicants were deserving of being “squibbed/muggled”, but I thought some, if not most were not. My personal take on the whole lot of extra “squibbed/muggled” votes being casted in was to keep the community slightly more elite. That’s the feel I got!

But now in 2011, constant reminders on trying to avoid “squibbed/muggled” votes. In 2008/2009, your chances of getting in was about 50% I’d say, now it’s up to about 75% – 80%. I would try my luck at applying but just filling out the application is…a slight chore.

Filling out the application requires me to think and analyze every little bit of ‘me’ at the moment, and to be honest, I don’t feel like doing that. This kind of thing is online, it’s fun, it’s…not real. The ‘me’ is real, it’s offline, it’s private and I don’t feel particularly up to sharing myself and allowing people to critique or…categorize me.

I don’t even feel comfortable posting what my childhood dreams were in a virtual application like that. I’d tell the world what my childhood dreams were when I’m good and ready. Not because I have to say it in some application.

That’s when I take things literally. I guess I could…imagine some information, most information…fine. ALL information.

A couple of friends wanted to go out tonight (Saturday) and go “clubbing”. I declined.

It’s mid-late Autumn, with temperatures frequently dipping down to around 5° C at night. There’s no way in hell I’m prancing around town in a dress so short, one can see the color of my panties without needing to bend over, with a thin 10 denier pantyhose and probably a thin cardigan.¹ That outfit does NOT protect me from 5° C.

Hell, it doesn’t even protect me from sleazy men! Maybe if it was around summer, I might accept the offer, but at this time??? Does the word “cold” even register in your dictionary?

And I’ll be honest with myself here, I hate going out clubbing. I’ve got to suffer the cold to go out. I’ve got to pay through my nose for bartenders who try to pass off some other cocktail for a Long Island Iced Tea and on top of that! It’s not as if I’ll meet new people because all the girls just want to band together! In any case, by 1AM or…2 AM (I’ll be optimistic), everyone is just about plastered, or IS plastered and can be found in the nearest alleyway, puking their guts out. Not a pretty sight, ladies.

I’m 21, and…I think I’ve done my clubbing. I’ve done my partying. I just want a decent guy to settle down with.

¹ = I have much more tack than that, but you get the picture, right?