The twelve twenty six
Monday 25th April, 2011 - 12:28am with 0 comments
It’s cold, and I get lonely.
I still get lonely. And fuck – I told myself I wouldn’t. I told myself, I promised myself somewhere. I try not to get lonely, but I do. And I don’t know why.
Oh, fuck you, Andy.
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The Lost iPhone: Phase 3
Wednesday 23rd March, 2011 - 5:25pm with 3 comments
It seems that people are still mildly convincing me to buy the most expensive phone that ever existed, while my mind is actually bouncing with glee because of the fact that I will most likely be getting the same phone as James.
Which is infinitely better than having the same phone I had before, which is the predecessor of some curvy-shaped, pathetic round-volume-button-bearing glass-and-what-I-think-is-stainless-steel brick. And better than having the curvy-shaped, pathetic round-volume-button-bearing glass-and-what-I-think-is-stainless-steel brick itself.
My dad pointed out that my phone, brand new, almost exactly the same model and type that I did own (only it is not my own, obviously), was available, as advertised in the newspaper by a seller, was “only four hundred dollars”.
Less than half the cost of the phone that I had purchased over a year ago.
“…nah.”
My thoughts go to my classmate Vicky, who owns a Sony Ericsson Xperia X10, and constantly receives the question, “Why don’t you have an iPhone?”
Her passionate hatred for this question inspired her to complete her research project based on this very question and her contemplation as to why Apple was highly regarded as the best shit out there. Having heard James’s complete dissing of Steve Jobs and his nonexistent third hand (let us not think about what that could be used for), the thing is that Apple knows it is undeniably cool, and that’s all it needs, no matter how shit their stuff really is. James has concluded that people will keep buying Apple products simply to be elite, hip, funky and wear a sweater with shorts in the winter and not even make physical sense.
Put two and two together, and I realise that as sick as I am of hearing “Why don’t you have Facebook?”; personally, I could have fun with the same question Vicky has received for the past six months.
Read:
The Lost iPhone: Phase 1 — The Lost iPhone: Phase 2
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Paint your target
Sunday 20th March, 2011 - 9:00pm with 0 comments
I forgot you were so self-centred. Boy, do I hate it.
It makes me feel literally sick when people don’t care about anything unless it concerns themselves. Even in a general sense of politeness, one would show concern for those around them. But it becomes obvious when someone only cares about something when it has something to do with them, even the slightest thing.
I suppose people could at least pretend to care when something is wrong with someone, or something is happening that concerns a lot of people, but they don’t. People will open their eyes and see the real you.
Ah, bloody get over yourself, hunny.
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The Lost iPhone: Phase 2
Sunday 13th March, 2011 - 10:28pm with 1 comment
Don’t bloody dwell on it. I simply cannot keep thinking about it, but there are times when, due to lack of things to do or sheer boredom, the topic comes to mind. Sometimes when I’m listening to my iPod (nano 3rd gen) on the train and watching the window views go by, I suddenly remember that dickhead who nicked my phone.
Sometimes I don’t even need to think about the fact that I’m listening to an iPod; I don’t have to try and turn the volume down with the volume control unsuccessfully and then realise; I don’t have to look at my phone and think, “oh what a stupid piece of shit, it’s not half bad but I want my iPhone back”; I don’t have to go browsing the techy stores and find myself in the Apple section in front of the iPhones. It just comes to me.
I think, “Damn fuck you.”
And then I come to grimly accept it. No, I’m not going through the Kubler-Ross model of grief management – it’s a bloody iPhone, not a baby. Yes, I’ve skipped the stages of bargaining and depression. Or perhaps they simply didn’t last long. I don’t remember bargaining.
“Give my iPhone back and I’ll kick you in the nuts”, maybe.
I’ve been thinking of getting a new phone. I’ve been saying that for quite a while. I’ve only lost my phone a month – it’s no big deal, but I can’t get used to this numberpad to type.
I browsed the shops, had in my mind the common phones – HTC, BlackBerry, Samsung Galaxy, Sony Ericsson Xperia, and of course, the iPhone. I dawdled around the latter three, and realised that the Galaxy S2 would be coming out soon, but ‘soon’ being far too far for my liking and knowing I’d get impatient; I realised that I didn’t want a phone that was like a few of my friends’, so no Xperia, and I decided…
I’m sick of seeing people with iPhones.
It makes me pissed off. Not because I remember mine, but I guess the way it’s like some kind of life-depending commodity. So as much as I like everything – apps, music, iPod, Genius, Last.fm app, Twitter app, Safari, apps, apps, music, phone, phone!, Meebo!, shut the fuck… up.
I’m not spending $1000 on a phone again. And I’m going in the direction that is there. *points* There is a 98% chance it’ll be an LG Chic.
And I’m superior.
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The Lost iPhone: Phase 1
Monday 21st February, 2011 - 11:34am with 1 comment
What I’d imagined is that if ever I lost my phone, I would find myself in total absolute fucking rage. Now I’m just pissed off at myself, which is some form of rage. But I’m definitely not as angry as I’d imagined. I’m coming to see, as a whole, all the things, the chain of events, and all in all seeing how it could have been avoided.
Ah, fuck it. Now I’m trying to deal with having a stupid Sony Ericsson. I miss a lot of things about my iPhone. For instance, this morning, I tried to take a screenshot on my phone. I still keep trying to put a passcode in. I felt rather upset in the wee hours of the morning knowing that I’d really lost my phone.
It didn’t help that I had a dream that I had an iPhone 4. I haven’t heard fantastic things about it and I really just miss all that I had in the iPhone with all the features it had.
Maybe I just want some kind of smartphone, but still, nothing holds the specialty my iPhone did.
It kind of sucks.
No, it does suck. And that’s phase one. Knowing that it flat out sucks. That that may be the only phone I want and will ever want at least in the near future. And a small part of me still hopes I’ll get it back. ~___~
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The equivalent of certain expletives
Tuesday 18th January, 2011 - 6:02pm with 0 comments
I don’t know what constitutes the phrase ‘fuck off’ these days, but for some reason, ‘I’m sorry, I cannot help you’ is supposed to mean ‘fuck off’.
Supposedly, by the same principle, ‘I can’t make it to class today’ is the equivalent of ‘fuck off’.
Instead of running your tongue over your teeth and cussing, you breathe the truth and nothing but the truth… what point is that? Surely when you want someone to piss off, you’d likely tell them so. Even in the politest way, ‘please leave me alone’. That could mean ‘fuck off’ just as much as ‘fuck off’ itself. But let’s put this into perspective. You don’t need to immediately assume that someone is angry at you, I guess.
But given a certain scenario… let’s say, you’re trying to talk to a friend.
Your friend says ‘I’m reading’. Well, you knew that, obviously. So maybe you didn’t try to talk to them in the first place, knowing they’d be disturbed if you were to talk to them while they are reading. And for someone like me, when someone interrupts my reading, I’m less than pleased.
But let us assume the following. You’re sitting on the train next to a friend, your phone rings mid-chat. You end up talking to your cousin who is asking you to buy him a packet of cigarettes on your way home. You will never buy cigarettes (some personal choice, which is irrelevant to this scenario), and eventually, after a heated argument, you hang up and sigh. Your friend is unoccupied, so you start ranting and telling them about this brainless cousin of yours.
All of a sudden your friend says, ‘I’m thinking about dinner’, as if to say… as if to say… woah.
You can either 1) Assume they are angry at you, just cease talking, or 2) Well I don’t know, what the fuck is wrong with this person, HOW THE FUCK CAN I TELL THAT THEY’RE THINKING, MUCH LESS ABOUT DINNER?
FUCK YOUUUUUUUUUUU. HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO FUCKING KNOW —
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No thanks to me?
Thursday 23rd December, 2010 - 11:19pm with 1 comment
I’ve actually gotten nowhere today, but that doesn’t really matter… I’ll just try and finish returning all my comments tonight. Try.
What really pisses me off is when people are suddenly the number one fan, or completely obsessed, with something they only just found out about.
I’m a big fan of Armor For Sleep, and God Loves A Challenge, and Ben Jorgensen of course. I go and tell someone about them, and they obviously know how obsessed I very well am. It’s all well and good for someone to get into their stuff as well, start liking it and all, but when some bitch strides along telling me how fugging awesome GLAC are about a couple hours after I’ve initially told her about them – well obviously, yours truly isn’t going to be too pleased.
OK and you. It pisses the shit out of me when someone starts becoming greatly obsessed with something I told them about, to the point where they completely forget.
“So OMG, did you hear that Ben Jorgensen is coming?”
“No fuckin’ jackall because I told you about it.”
“Huh? What?”
Don’t play it stupid. It just makes you look like a tool when you go around telling people how much you love Kings of Leon, and when I ask you if you’ve heard The Bucket or their other old shit from Aha Shake Heartbreak, you go, “What old stuff?”
It’s fine if you start going crazy pretty quickly, getting obsessed pretty quickly. But hell to the NO are you going to completely ignore the fact that I reminded you of whatever the subject is, or that I even introduced you to them.
So stop favouriting the same videos as me. Stop listening to the same music as me. Stop stalking me and my every move. I’m my own person. Go away.
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The Obsession
Monday 29th November, 2010 - 12:39am with 0 comments
Georgina, get the hell over it. Stop getting sucked into the internet. You’re being sucked into Wikipedia articles. YouTube. Memes. Tumblr. Memes. Did I say memes. Did I say YouTube. Errr, YouTube.
Most of all, Agents of Secret Stuff. Which you can’t even type properly because it’s rattled your brain. Stop watching it over and over! Get to the real stuff, or walk all the way to the other side of the city. Stop. Being. Sucked. Into. The. Internet.
No, really.
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Revolutions per minute
Tuesday 23rd November, 2010 - 6:49pm with 1 comment
- My life doesn’t revolve around you.
- So stop acting like it does.
- And stop telling me what to do with my life – because if you fucking cared the same way, you’d also care for my feelings. Which have something to do with you. You ignore me, it hurts me. And vice versa.
- Don’t call me selfish.
- When you’re just the fucking same thing that I am.
- And another thing: My life does not revolve around you.
- So stop acting like you’re so important.
- Stop demanding and telling me what I should do.
- It’s fine to have feelings.
- It is also fine to REACT on them.
- If it wasn’t, how is it valid to be human?
- One cannot permanently change that which is a REACTION.
* re·act—intransitive verb: to change in response to a stimulus
* re·ac·tion—noun: bodily response to or activity aroused by a stimulus
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This is an email.
Monday 15th November, 2010 - 12:18am with 0 comments
FUCKING REPLY TO IT.
I asked you one fucking question. In an email. And you owe me money for work I did for you. Obviously, before you cut me off saying to put everything on hold that you would get back to me “shortly”. Last time I bloody checked, “shortly” was not over four days. We aren’t living in the 1800s when you had to write letters to people telling them that you’d be coming for a visit.
We’re actually in a time when people can just buzz your mobile and ask for a get-together right on the spot.
This is email. Electronic mail. It’s digital and it’s instant. It’s straight in your fucking inbox. I just need the answer YES or NO to “Can I send my details in a text message?”. Because honestly, who the hell thinks it’s safe and all fine and dandy to send bank account details via email?
You owe me fucking $450. Do you fucking mind? Don’t pretend, I have seen you online. Why the hell won’t you fucking respond?