Having a designated blog-writing time is definitely proving effective. This week has not been particularly eventful. Saturday night was spent trying not to neck myself at Crown. That casino is like a scary wonderland, where the most revolting specimens of an affluent and hedonistic capitalist society come out to play. It's all glitter and booze and tacky heels as people attempt to satisfy that never-ending desire for more and more money. It ends up not even being a means to an end, but people accrue money for the sake of money. And in some of the most debauched and immoral ways. In closing, Crown bored me.

On Monday, utterly fed up with Topshop's bullshit (3 weeks ago I placed an order for some clothes which included a dress with a cat face on the front but I have not received them), I bought a cat dress to satisfy my need for one. I am wearing it today, and it is making me feel happy automatically. It's flowy and pretty, with a section cut out of the back, so it's discreetly sexy as well. And it has cats all over it. And these cats go 'meow meow meow meow meow meow meow' all day long. At least I like to imagine that they do. I would like to post a picture of me in this delightful dress, but that means I would need to post a picture of the playsuit i mentioned here. And while I may have posted pictures of myself in the past, I'm not so narcissistic today. But I am sure I will soon enough. Here is a picture of the dress, anyway.

Here I am once again, sitting in the Architecture library at the same time, waiting for my Art History tutorial to start. Two new things have occurred since last week, however. Big M have introduced their egg flip flavour, and I am currently tasting this limited edition tastiness. The other not-quite-as-important news is that it has just been confirmed within the last hour that the Labor government are to continue to govern this vast land with a female Prime Minister who has been elected voluntarily by the people, and, well, chosen by the independents as well. This is what I have been waiting for. Being the crazy lesbian feminist nazi that I am (was), having women break through Australia's stupid glass ceiling is a big relief. With a female Prime Minister, the only higher power than her is the female Governor General, whose actions are dictated by the female Queen (but we all want a Republic anyway so this is not that relevant to the current left-wing female euphoria that we are all experiencing, are we not?).

All this feminine power could not have come sooner, as I am slowly but surely sinking into the imprisoning dome that is domesticity. Turns out there was a dormant domestic nature within me. I am becoming excited by the prospect of home decor and kitchen appliances. Tonight I shall be cooking dinner which I have been looking forward to for two days. I am becoming satisfied with the idea of teaching little children: that traditional occupation that has always been accepted as one that women are inherently good at. I guess the fact that I don't have a single nurturing bone in my body (womb) is comforting, as I do not have that inherent instinct for motherhood. Well, yet, anyway. Now let's all get abortions to celebrate this important day in Australian political (and women's) history. FUCK YOU TONY A.

It happened, my blog disappeared into the void; the not updated blogsphere. But I have a break at uni for the next 30 minutes and am back! At least temporarily. I am sitting in the architecture library, happy with my purchase of a playsuit. I have not had the pleasure of owning a playsuit before so this is a big moment in my life. It is the eve of Spring and I am ready for the sun to come out so I can frolic in the fields of Springtime daisies and violets and pick strawberries and do all manner of delightful things. All of this is possible now that I have a playsuit of my very own. I also cannot afford said playsuit, but that does not matter.

In other news, I have become completely disenchanted by my university degree. But I'm going to get one, I would rather endure one more painful year than to have waisted the last painful two. And then my current plan is to become a teacher. These life plans of mine change almost weekly. But this one looks like it could work, and I can spend my time figuring out what sort of teacher I want to be. I don't mean what subjects I would teach, just what sort of teacher I will be. Will I be quiet and cute and no kid will piss me off or make me angry? No they don't exist, they get walked all over. Maybe I will be the 'cool' type, like my Year 9 science teacher, who everybody respected because she was young and with it. No, I couldn't stand that woman. Maybe I will be the totally disenchanted fuck-the-education-system-I-would-much-rather-be-home-drunk type like several teachers I have had. Most likely this will be my calling, as my sarcastic and bleak view of the world always ends up dominating, no matter how much I try to stop it.

At what point does suicide become a viable option?

My greatest fear has become a reality. I have misplaced my iPhone. I left it in the back of a cab while drunk. I was waiting for something like this to happen, to ruin my perfect life. Which is what has happened. I deserved this. But the night was awesome!

Procrastination is...

Yes I am meant to be preparing for a tutorial presentation on Chekhovian Drama and yes I am writing a blog about doing so instead.

The floor is currently covered in every single Year 12 SAC and practise essay I have ever done except the one that I am looking for. If Melbourne University think I am going to have new thoughts on Chekhov's Three Sisters, they've got another thing coming. I did not spend countless hours of my life in Year 12 thinking about Chekhov for nothing! And now it appears I did, for I cannot find this friggen' essay.

I have also lined up my highlighters just in case I need them. They are in rainbow order for easy access. A cup of coffee sits next to them, and next to that is a dictionary and a thesaurus I just grabbed, just in case I come across a word I don't know the meaning of... in my own thoughts. I am also listening to Fleetwood Mac. Puts me in the mood to think.

Today I caught the train to Monash to see if my books had been sold. I caught the Pakenham train to Caulfield, and my goodness, it was packed. I almost had a panic attack because some random's ass was touching my thigh (he was a short random), and my boob was touching his back. It was a disgustingly intimate train trip. To make matters worse, the filthy kids from Melbourne High might be intelligent enough to get into this elite school, but obviously don't possess basic common sense. When it is forcast for 30 degrees in Melbourne, you put deoderant on, especially if you are to board a packed train.

After a horrid trip, I made it to Monash Clayton, which was still as feral as I remembered it. Stupid Monash won't let me connect to the wireless network either anymore. I felt so rejected. But, I did make it onto the packed 5:15 shuttle home. I think a few people may have missed out on seats... muahahha. The quality of this super-convenient bus has dropped, which makes me feel mildly better about changing because I do miss that bus. Metaphorically. Not literally.

Oh that our eyes will be open.

I have made a decision, for I think (note: think) I have figured out what I want, thanks to some outside help from a folded up piece of paper and several text messages to an Amy Annabelle Wood. Just in case you were wondering.
And another thing!
Do you think that if I don't exist on the internet, I won't totally exist?

Double ewe tea eff.

If you take the questions that were raised in the last post, and amplify the confusion by 100, you would begin to have some idea of the bewilderment I am currently experiencing. No longer am I grateful that I can make this choice. I wave a white flag and surrender to any higher source to decide for me. In fact, I have consulted the oracle. It tells me, "perhaps... :)." How appropriately vague.