I'm doing too much.
I'm telling lies.
I'm lost for words.
I'm sleeping in class.
I'm eating the wrong food.
I'm too tired to move.
I'm hurt.
I'm serious but you aren't.
I'm making mistakes.
I'm in need of time.
I'm strapped for cash.
I'm not choosing the right priorities.
I'm forgetting things.
I'm stuck.
I'm nobody's girl.
I'm forgoing what I want.
I'm about to fall.
I'm losing you.
I'm losing... me.

Two nights ago, I got a phone call from a number I didn't recognise.

Me: Hello.
Guy: Hi. *asked something which I couldn't hear/comprehend*
Me: Sorry, what did you say?
Guy: How much do you charge for half an hour?
Me: ... Er... What sort of services do you think I provide?
Guy: .... Sexual?
Me: I think you've got the wrong number. =.=

Two hours later...

Me: Hello.
Guy: Hi, how are you?
Me: I'm good, how are you?
Guy: I'm good. How much do you charge for half an hour?
Me: ... You've still got the wrong number.
Guy: Oh.

Trinity was laughing and joking that maybe someone gave out my number for fun. :P I did wonder about his question afterwards though. NOT THAT I WANT TO ANSWER IT, but that he only asked for half an hour. And you can think of the implications yourself. Trust a male friend to tell me later when I related the story that 'that's how they charge'.

Men, indeed.

I was on the train an hour ago when this gay man asked a lady sitting next to me how much she charges. Honestly, what's up with all these questions! She denied that she was a prostitute, but frankly, if you ask me, just wearing a gaping trench coat on the train is really...

Right, never mind. :P

So...

sape nak pegi ke Snow Patrol ngan I? :(

Trinity refuses to skip class for it. Noooooo...

Die lah.

Two nights ago, I really wanted to throw my pocket French-English-French dictionary against the wall. It's already complicated enough trying to write in present tense, but to describe the past... absolutely mind-screwing, I tell you. That's the way it is with French; I get so frustrated trying to be eloquent (or just plain accurate) in this foreign language, but when I'm done, the relief just pounces on me, that I can actually write something and I grin like a Cheshire cat. Even if it results in my tutor going, WTF is this mad woman trying to say?! #$&% But it was 3:45 am when I was done, having returned home from a dinner function (as such missing out on Kitty's birthday party :( *sadness*) and going to tutorials the next day was definitely not on. :P Which explains why I'm in uni now, on this sunny, beautiful Thursday when I normally only have a Mon-Tues-Wed uni week. As much as I love my three-day week, I can't help wondering where the hell the weekends disappear to.

And I did make the full-fat, full-cream cheesecake with dark chocolate swirls, but it was strangely unsatisfying. Not the making process, but the actual cake. Somehow, it doesn't taste the way Mom and I used to make it at home. The cheese just wasn't dense enough. Of course, I didn't make it the way Mom loves it too - heaps of biscuit and practically a cheese topping, haha. But I do love it when the dark chocolate swirls turn into chocolate pieces once you refrigerate it. Out of this world!

I have an interview at the best ice-cream parlour in Brisbane tomorrow. Wish me luck! :)

All you wanna do is have a good cry. But the sad thing is only one tear manages to make its way down to your cheek before you have to say to yourself... you don't have time to cry.

That's how fucked up things can get.

I just wanna stay at home and make a full-cream, full-fat cheesecake with dark chocolate swirls and nurse black coffee fresh from the press.

I think about what I've done now and maybe I feel the slightest tinge of guilt. Not about what I'm doing to him (actually, I've barely devoted a single thought about how it might affect him, lol), but what I'm doing to my friends. Being the middle people couldn't possibly be pleasant! We've all been there before, going from one end to the other, pleading them to see sense. But of course, now that I've done it, I'm sure I'm not the only one who sees how beneficial it is, how it suits every one. My decision is so beautifully final!

And you know, all I can think of is how good it makes me feel to make such a decision out of my own accord, to know that I'm no longer putting myself through this rubbish (all those times I held my tongue and clenched my fists, jeez) because quite simply, I don't want to. Not anymore. I hated it. They hated putting up with it anyway. So now, it's come to a brilliant end. The fat lady has sung (oui, c'est moi!), whee! After all, I have much better, more worthwhile things to get pissed off over.

Somehow, yesterday, before I attempted to fall back asleep again, it gave me great pleasure to think of all the horrid things I never said to him and to picture the biggest downfall ever of this blinded, crazily egoistic self-declared alpha male. Whatever. :P

I wake up to the bright, rainy sky when my phone goes off at 9 am. I swear. It's the first time in a couple of days that I had the opportunity to get my 8 hours of sleep. It's the friend I'm meant to meet at 11 to pass her my old assignment, saying that since it's raining, it's okay if I can't meet her. I fumble for my assignment, type out the references that she wants on my phone and send it off. She replies and I try to go back to sleep again after resetting my alarm.

I wake up 7 minutes before my 11 am alarm to bad news. I think that everytime he calls, it's always something major. The last time he called, he made a proposal 15 minutes later that I've now taken on. It was supposed to be a done deal; but then things started falling apart and now I think that I will face at least another opposition for what was meant to be the easiest thing ever. Just show up, say a few words, and you're it! But as usual, everyone else has got something up their damn sleeves. I want to scream that I don't bloody care and neither will the people I want to help out, but of course, that's not how it works. It's always got to be about politics, and when I say politics, I mean actual fricking politics. I make my decision that was divided equally by loyalty and pride, with perhaps a touch of stupidity, and hang up seven minutes later. I hate that the best laid plan has turned into what could be a future catastrophe.

If it fails, then maybe UC will be kind (and ignorant), and I will salvage the vestiges of myself and forget about the Berkeley dream. I'll just make it a Californian one.

... Right?