As the fast-approaching end of my career of "professional student" approaches quite rapidly (some may even say that it is approaching "fast", but that's so bourgeois that I'd pretty much slit my own throat if I were to catch myself uttering such a word), I can't help but feel a growing nostalgia and slight tinge of sorrow for my soon-to-be-departed, (somewhat and arguably) luxurious lifestyle of pretending to be doing something while sitting at a computer for six years straight. It's been a spotted past; the first 18 months were spent on a wasted diploma, though I'm quite glad that I got the opportunity to learn more than it offered since it was a pile of hairy horse-testicles, and there were those 6 months spent doing the one subject which was completed in 2 weeks, and I was fat for a long time... ah, the memories (why did I bring this up god I hate this).
Now I just coughed up bile but only half-way up my throat and it is burning me! I guess the reasoning behind this is tied in with the goal of this entry, which is to give a specific account of what could be considered a sterotypical day which is simultaneously so mind-alteringly boring and "crap ya dacks" exciting that whenever anyone hears about it their shirt suddenly transforms into an oversized white one with "ROCK ON!!!" splashed across the chest in giant, bold red lettering (if the person is not currently wearing a shirt then whatever garment they are currently wearing will either mutate into this new shirt momentarily, or if they are naked then one will appear out of thin air around their torso and hopefully whatever horrible bits are flopping all over the place), and then a double-necked guitar will appear in their hands (same deal applies to the guitar as to the aforementioned shirts) with a solo from an unnamed power metal-era Pantera song being magically played by the ghost of a hair metal faggot who died after eating a cocaine and glitter sandwich; the eating of the sandwich was rumoured to have been the outcome of a lost bet, but sources later confirmed that he ate it voluntarily because he figured it might be "as close to tasting heaven" as he'd ever get (I guess he discovered the truth around 3 minutes later).
Strangely enough I woke up at 10:30, but this was only to take off the clothes that I had fallen asleep in to give to mum so that she could wash them. Yes, my mother still does my laundry. I'd fallen asleep at around 1 o'clock watching The Up Late Game Show with Simon Deering (a.k.a. Hotdogs) and Chrissy. Sadly I cannot say that falling asleep fully-clothed was not due to being made amazingly tired by masturbation, and I would not mention this if not for the fact that it's completely normal and healthy and seriously you should be all masturbating right now. That point also warranted mention since, well, I do it a lot and I just can't help it and nor would I want to! After being awoken from my paralytic slumber I managed to sit around in my underwear for an unknown (even by me) period of time, but did manage to be showered, shaved and clothed before Days Of Our Lives began. During the unknown period of time I checked whatever websites needed checking, listened to a bunch of crappy songs, trolled people, and successfully avoided study like I have been doing for the past week/month/semester - my first final exam is on the 7th, and the next one after that is on the 13th, so basically I really need to start studying but fuck that dumb nerd shit.
At this point I'm ready tooo ruuuummbblllllee, so I somehow managed to order 6 CDs from eBay totalling around $150. How the fuck...? It was basically to firmly plant myself back into CD purchasing mode rather than vinyl purchasing mode, and also to try and guilt myself into studying. The desired effect was achieved briefly, but it was soon replaced by hunger. Well, surely the guilt of eating a gargantuan mass of Kentucky Fried Chicken would help me to study?! With this in mind, I drove to KFC, ordered the KFC, paid for and received my KFC, drove home fast listening to Reign In Blood with the KFC, came inside with the KFC, ate the KFC, and then felt horrendously sick from the KFC. I was set to eat a healthy sandwich for the day, but mum GAVE me money, without my asking, to go and get lunch and I was too groggy to refuse. This is basically a representation of the personal mindgames I play with myself to motivate and create drive in myself, and to a lesser extent of the signs/omens that I understand to be completely coincidental yet crucial to my existence; if I "do x / see x / encounter x / have x / complete x" I will then "do y / see y / encounter y / have y / complete y". It's a minor form of goal-based living which is only utilised in situations where indecision or confusion is encountered and basically it kicks ass.
Before, during, and after all of this hullabaloo, I periodically check the front door for my order from Southern Lord (Altar 2CD, Altar shirt) to no avail. I check the SL forum to see if any other Australians have received their order, and to my dismay another Brisbanite had in fact received his order. My 12-track copy of Vein arrived on Monday, so I'm not too hung up about it not arriving since it kicks major ass, but STILLLLLLLLLL, GIVE ME MY DAMNED PACKAAAGGGGEEE AAAAAARGHJJJJ I ORDERED IT RIGHT AWAAAAYYYYY FFFUUUUCCCCKK. Since no "fun" mail had arrived, I decided to go and collect the "normal" mail from the mailbox (the only sun I get on some days). 2 envelopes addressed to me? Very peculiar. When walking back up the 2 of the 3 stairs that exist on the path for no reason other than making it level with gravity's pull instead of a slope like the lawn, I completely forgot about the gigantic, thick web that somehow stretched from a tree to a bush and got in my way. Of course I hate spiders and their ominous webs that taunt you with their "hey, gonna fuckin' get ya!" vibe, so when I'm covered in what appears to be web mixed with gigantic spider testicles I completely - yet silently - flip out and throw one of my two envelopes into the garden underneath more fucking spider webs. What was in the envelope? A promotional deal from Slurpee, in which you can have a Large Slurpee upgraded to an Extra-Large Slurpee for no extra cost (when I applied for it online for free I mentioned that I drank around 20 Slurpees per week, which is a blatant and hilarious lie). Why couldn't I have dropped the other one? I don't need some useless ATM card! WHAT WILL I DO WITHOUT THESE FREE SLURPEE UPGRADES? WHY MUST I CONSTANTLY GET METAPHORICALLY FUCKED IN THE ASS BY NATURE AND IN PARTICULAR SPIDERS? WHY DOES THE GUY ACROSS THE ROAD IGNORE EVERYONE AND LOOK REALLY CREEPY?
Basically this led me to this afternoon. I had a cup of tea with 4 heaped teaspoons of sugar and a small amount of milk - to make it more of a brown colour rather than black or white - and decided to do useless shit on the Internet rather than study (this journal entry being an example). More music was listened to, and I talked to more people on MSN Messenger. I guess what isn't stereotypical about today is the fact that I'm going to tell/ask my parents about a 2 week trip to LOS ANGELES (~THE CITY OF ANGELS~) starting between Christmas and New Year, and that I am a closet homosexual. Judging by how much I love the butts of girls, you can decide which of those two is a lie.
Tonight, I'll eat scrambled eggs and toast and waste more time that I should be using for studying. Also I will poop for the third time today.
I don't know what the future holds, but quite frankly it will have to be awesome since I am indeed awesome. Like dad has said twice (the second time rather awkwardly, since he'd already told me...), this is a new chapter in my life. I'm actually very happy about the person that I am, and even though there are some imperfect qualities that I would like to work on, I wouldn't change who I am or how I got here for anything. Maybe I would if it got me a Ferrari, but who knows.
This started out kind of cool but ended reeeeealllllly horrible and gay so I'm just going to stop typing now.
THE END (OR DID HE?)