So yes.  My room is currently the most messy it has ever been, to my recollection.  Now, it’ not even just messy, it’s actually disgusting.  I don’t want to go into all the details because it will just gross you out and make you all think I am really disgusting and messy…  So anyway, as you would’ve known, the past few weeks (maybe not the most recent few) have been hectic with assignments.  Now, it’s not even that I pull all-nighters consecutively before the due date, which would probably be more beneficial, but a single all-nighter before the day I hand it in, whether it’s (not ever) on time or days/weeks after.  So yes, I had the phase with the tim tams.  Recently though, I haven’t been doing that.  I think I may be put off on that for at least a few months.
I’d been drinking a lot of tea in an attempt to boost energy and caffeine levels to no avail.  And so, seeing as these past few weeks I’ve just given up, I had just left these mugs of half drunken tea in my room.  Fermenting, as you will.  To be honest I think they’ve been in my room for maybe two weeks.  And my room is strewn with my clothes because every morning I don’t know what to wear.  I’ve worn this top this week already and I don’t want to look like a dirty hoe who wears the same clothes everyday with obviously no time to wash them.
So anyway, they’ve just been sitting there.  And for some reason just now I decided to finally take them downstairs to the kitchen.  But before doing that I had a tiny peak inside…  EWWWWWWWW MOULD!!!!!!!!  EWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  Oh my god it was excruciatingly cringeworthy!  Oh how I cringed!  I saw it and quickly put the lid back on.  As I’m writing this I am cringing, eughhHH!!!!!!  There were like black green circles of mould sitting on the top, and I think the tea had turned into some acidic translucent colour.  Most likely due to the soy milk in it.  Oh so gross.  At first when I looked in I thought it might’ve been the tea bag, but it was peaking out from two ends of the cup, and that was when I realised it was mould and shut it!
I’m not sure, but this might be the most disgusting experience of mould I have ever experienced!  Equalling this other time…
The other time was in probably year eight I think, when I was thirteen.  My mum used to pack me sandwiches for lunch and sometimes I wouldn’t eat them because instead I’d buy something from the canteen.  Usually, one of my friends would be hungry and they’d end up eating my sandwich.  I think on this particular day, I forgot about it and I’d already arrived home from school, the sandwich still in my lunch box.  Of course I couldn’t leave it there, otherwise my mum would’ve gotten me in trouble for not eating and also might’ve made me eat it then and there.  So I snuck it out of my back and stashed it in this massive plastic storage container I had with all these old books and girly files that you’d write in.  And then, I guess I forgot about it.
Sometime later, I don’t really know how long, I opened this container for some reason and holy mother of god, how it stank of death.  Oh man, it smelt so bad, it was sour and strong, like an actual garbage dump.  I opened up the paper bag, and there was the sandwich.  Soooooooo grossssssssssssss.  All mouldy.  Not sure which is more gross, the mould growing on the sandwich or the mould floating on the tea.  Fuck.
Mould is like the one thing that is actively revolting.  It’s not even the type of gross thing that is so gross but you just can’t help looking at it.  It’s the gross thing that is just like eugh, get out of my face and out of my memory.  So bad.
Yeah so I took that downstairs and left it on the counter.  My mum cleaned it.  Lol.  If I was living alone I would’ve just thrown the cups and everything touching it into the garbage bin.  So damn disgusting.  Well, I don’t know what she did with it, maybe she threw it as well.  But I supposed I can’t ever drink from those cups again.  Fml.  Well not really fml, but just so gross.
My room is a mess.  I haven’t started writing the essay that is a substitute.  It was due Friday and now I want to hand it in on Monday before 6pm so I don’t accrue even more than two late marks.  I suck.  And I have work tomorrow…  I’m so bad at work.  I’m just so bad at what I’m supposed to do.  Oh fuck, I am going to fail all my exams.  I can feel it.  I told my mum I want caffeine pills.  She said no…  I must pull an all-nighter on Sunday.  Otherwise I won’t be able to start studying for my exams.  Oh I am going to fail.  
Lol my parents are trying to talk to me right now.  My dad bought me some stuff for my dry skin, oh it’s so dry.  It’s literally like vaseline that he’s bought me.  Lol my dad’s telling my mum that his brother, I think, had a baby and for her to congratulate them or something.  She’s like go away, you’re disturbing everyone.  Because I’m supposed to be studying right now.  I think she’s like, I’m not going to, because they didn’t congratulate her?  I don’t know. Oh right, it’s because they had a baby boy.  And my parents didn’t have a boy.  My mum’s like, I’m the only one who didn’t have a boy, what can I do…  Lol.  I don’t even know.  Kind of depressing really.  Oh well.  Oh well.  Oh well…
Eugh I think they wanted me to be a boy.  Oh well.  Eugh, I think I would’ve made a particularly ugly boy.  I don’t know, it’s much easier for a girl to improve their looks with makeup but for boys, it’s au naturale.  Meh.  I wonder how I would be if were a boy.
Anyway, I should try and get back to my essay which I haven’t done.  I haven’t even read the articles yet.  Fuck.
Cya all,
Just Another Woo Girl

My un-funny dad

Just seriously lol.  I don’t even know, sometimes I find my parents interesting and funny, but only funny when they do silly things, not funny in an intellectually humorous way.  But majority of the time, they’re boring.  I think tonight, it’s safe to say, I can clearly make this conclusion.  I mean, I’ve thought it before when I’d have to sit at their dinner ‘parties’ and listen, nodding, eating, to their mundane conversations.  I guess when I was younger I attributed this to being young, and having different interests or ideas of what interesting topics of conversation were.  Not that I’d even distinguish talking over food as going through topics of conversation when I was little, or even now.  But seriously, so boring, it’s funny.
So one of my family friends from Singapore came to Sydney to study last year, she’s fluent in English and everything and gets the culture, she’s not a fob.  And this year she came to live with us, since our house has so many, well not that many, empty rooms.  And yesterday her parents came to visit to look at apartments to buy, and so they’re staying with us as well.  
Side note, I didn’t want to come out and see them since I don’t wear make up at home, and I thought having two essays to write that are already late was excuse enough.  Turns out, it’s not, and it’s pretty awkward having to sit at dinner with them tonight when it’s like I’ve avoided seeing them in my own house.  I feel so guilty, but then at the same time, after that dinner, glad I didn’t come out of my room.  I mean, they were at dinner for like three hours last night and I can’t imagine what they were talking about.  Actually I can, probably the same as tonight but about buying houses, because tonight was about bank loans.  
So I’m just enjoying the food my mums made, so yummy.  Except now that I’ve finished I feel sick and too full…  And my dad’s talking away, really mundanely, and her two parents are just listening.  So my parents and her parents go way back I think, not really sure to where, maybe my dad and her dad were uni friends…  And he’s telling them, explaining to them, the entire process of how we came to buy this house, and what loans he took.  Comparison: they bought an apartment within one day of coming to Sydney, my parents took around three.  
Whilst he was telling them the boring process, I thought to myself, maybe it’s just what he’s talking about that’s boring, not the entire conversation.  And I thought, how would I say what he’s saying?  “You’ve got to look at two different banks when you take out a loan to get the best offer.  I ended up with blah blah blah blah blah blah blah the end.”  I could say what he was saying much more quickly, and more interestingly.  Instead, my dad is dragging out the entire process trying to see if there’s some sort of reaction from his audience.  He’s putting in heaps of dramatic pauses in between words, I don’t even know.
Then he makes a joke saying in a serious voice, “I did not do anything illegal.  I would never do anything illegal because I don’t want to go to jail.”  Then bursts out laughing.  Literally no one laughed.  I felt kind of bad.  My mum was like, “that’s not funny, stop.”  And then I laughed because it was just so funny that it wasn’t.  But seriously, my dad thinks he’s so funny and laughs at his own jokes and no one else laughs.  It’s tragic.  Not even his age peers laugh.  I guess humour doesn’t age with age, it’s generally the same.  My mum’s like, “why are you laughing?”  I half think she thought I was actually laughing at my dad’s joke…  And then I left.
Ah assignments…
Just Another Woo Girl

Sidelined to my bedroom

Lol.  I wake up at 11 and played around on my phone until I see my mum call me, see, because my phone is on silent.  I thought she was calling from work to say she was working till 3, unluckily not.  She called to say her friends and her are at Paul’s Warehouse and do I want to come and look at shoes.  Not really.  To make matters worse, she’s bringing her friends around afterwards to, I don’t know, drink tea and eat dried fruits.

So now I’m already awake at 11:30am, I’ve made breakfast and ran it up to my room to eat like a hermit.  Well rather this than have to actually put a bra on and a kind morning face and greet them…  Yeah…

Less than 24 hours, well actually I only have the rest of today until I go to sleep to figure out what subjects I want to do in first (and maybe second) semester…  It basically determines the major anyway.  Sigh pie.  Enrolment tomorrow…  Also my dad is a psycho but I can’t be bothered explaining.

Just Another Woo Girl

Disgustingly creepy new toilet seat

My parents have been talking about getting a new toilet seat for a while now, and finally, I suppose my dad cracked and decided he would go out on his lunch break or something and buy a new toilet seat.  (Other scenario, both, my mum and dad decided on getting a toilet).  Anyway, whatever the series of events that led up to this fateful decision has left me, having to go downstairs to go to the toilet now.  No matter the time, not matter the darkness, I cannot, will not, relieve myself in this creepy, disgusting, pregnant toilet.

Maybe it was my mistake, my dad asked me to come out of my hermit shell, otherwise known as bedroom, to look at this new toilet seat he’d gotten.  To my surprise, he had not gotten it to replace the shitty plastic one downstairs, but the actually ceramic one upstairs.  Another thing I might add is that I never use to the downstairs bathroom, it’s quite heritage, or as I will describe it as, old.  I was watching the latest episode of The Big Bang Theory so I gave it a miss, thinking, (foolishly), it’s a toilet seat?  What could possibly be wrong with it?  Toilet seats really only come in ceramic and wooden designs, so that would make risk of cringe-worthiness, almost 0%.

Oh, how, ever, was I wrong.  After finishing the episode, I went out into the light, of the corridor and headed down the hall to see the toilet seat.  I looked at it from the door, my dad had just finished installing it.

“Looks the same,” was my response.

Funnily, my dad pointed out nonchalantly, “No it’s not, the connecting part is metal, that’s different.”

Okay whatever, I go downstairs, go about my business, have dinner, and now comes the time in which I need to use the portal to the sewers.  I ask my dad if I can use it yet, he says yes.  I head upstairs to the bathroom.  I lift up the lid, and to my extreme mortifying horror, there is a fucking baby toilet seat stuck underneath the actual toilet seat…WHAT THE FUCK?!  Okay, my reaction wasn’t that big at first, I thought, oh, the toilet seat is stuck under the lid, then I realised, no, there’s already a toilet seat on the toilet…THEN WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!?!  Oh the horror, oh the extreme mortification, I wanted to cringe and possibly endure a seizure-ous attack on the ground but I didn’t want to have my head anything near this creepy monstrosity.

Just so you better understand what the toilet lid looks like, it’s like the toilet seat lid has been spooned out so that there is space to fit, a mini toilet seat, that I thought must be for babies, because it looks like one of the add-ons.  I would show you a picture, but I’ve only seen the toilet once, and haven’t been there since 6 hours ago and don’t ever plan to, in my life, go in there again, when that creepy ass fuck toilet seat is in there.

I went downstairs to tell my dad, that THIS IS NOT ALRIGHT!  THE TOILET IS NOT ALRIGHT!!!  I will seriously not go to the toilet when the freaky miniature toilet seat is facing the back of me, possibly could fall and touch me, EWWW!!!  I asked him directly, “What is it?!”  He replies, “It’s good.”  I ask him if it’s a fucking baby seat, and various other objections, and he continues to answer with the same thing, “It’s good.”

Well fuck this shit I’m not going to use that toilet ever again.

Anyway, I tell my mum, and at first she’s like, in her mind (I can tell from her face), uh oh, what has he bought.  She obviously didn’t know that he’d bought this devilish thing.  She went upstairs to check it out, and came back down not objecting to its freakishness at all!  Saying, he didn’t know, that we can’t return it, that he’s thrown away all the packaging.

Firstly, he obviously did know, because if that’s not the reason he bought it, he would’ve seen it whilst installing it.  And she’s probably right, he can’t return it, because he fucking wanted to buy that toilet seat.

Anyway, long story medium length, he also bought a new shower head which I was looking forward to enjoying, and apparently got a $64 toilet cover…  I have not seen either.  And don’t plan to.  Though I’m sad I don’t get to use the shower.  Oh yes, he also admitted that the freaky baby toilet seat, is actually a male toilet seat.  WHAT KIND OF SALESPERSON PAWNS OFF A SHITASS WEIRD TOILET SEAT ONTO A GULLIBLE ASIAN MAN?!  A dick of course!  Now I’m stuck with it too.  I seriously think he expected me to not notice it, or not care, or think it was cool, dude, I find double yolked eggs freaky, but this is even freakier!!

But now I also feel awkward and bad, and don’t want to tell him to return it anymore since he obviously liked the benefits of having a male toilet seat (I don’t even know or want to know what that entails…).

Fucking hell.

Just Another Woo Girl

P.s.  The toilet seat looks like it fucking had a baby.  It’s disgusting.

Post-MS and emotionless parents = shit

My parents are the shittest people ever.  So I’m obviously post-menstrual syndrome-ing, and am completely stressed about the HSC and my inability to succeed in an extremely important stage in my adolescent life.  And now, to top it all off, I have some sort of eye infection, with a lump on the inside of my eyelid, which, when I sneeze, hurts my entire eye socket.
Anyway, I told my mum in the car today, and to ask my dad to get me some antibiotic eye-drops.  She’s like, make sure it doesn’t damage your retina.  Okay, that’s reasonable, not that I have any control over this rampant infection, but my sister almost did damage her eye badly when she’d had an eye infection.  Then she goes on to say, you need ointment.  First of all, I don’t like touching any part of my eye that I can’t see, specifically, I am not going to fucking touch, the inside of my eyelid, with my finger, not with a cotton bud, not with anything, that is just fucking wrong and I won’t endure such horrific things.  So no, I just want to have the eye-drops thanks.
Far out my mum keeps coming into my room, I obviously am upset and don’t want to talk to you, so why do you keep trying to come in and annoy me?!  God.
Anyway, she sees that this upsets me.  I obviously do not want anything near my eye.  But noticing this, she still, continues on to tell me, “You probably need to get a needle in your eye to get rid of if.” 
What the fuck?!  Why would you even say that or tell me that?!  I obviously don’t want to know and hear about it!  Maybe, when the time comes that I have to get a fucking operation and maybe get my eyelid cut open, I’ll want to know before I have the surgery, but now, when I fucking am not at that stage, why would you want to continue to upset me more and tell me that?!  I tell her to stop talking and telling me these things!
So she does the exact opposite.  By this time, I’m already tearing and crying from frustration that my own mother enjoys making her daughter upset, just to see if she can get a reaction out of me.  A reason why I think my mum sucks fucking shit.
Anyway, so I suppose she called and told my dad to get me some eye drops, and she tells him about my ‘tantrum’ and how I was being so stupid and silly and crying over silly things.  Well one, she completely pissed me off and made me extremely upset when she said that my being obsessed and loving One Direction was stupid, and they were silly.  What the fuck?!  She knows I love them, why would someone say something like that?  It’s just cruel and selfish.  Shut the fuck up.
Anyway, so my dad in the car home (this is what, seven hours later), he tells me he bought eye drops and ointment.  Okay, good.  I tell him, “I’m only using the eye drops.”
He says, “The ointment is much better and is more powerful than the eye drops.”
Okay whatever, I’m still not using them.  I tell him this.
Then he too, is like, “Fine.  If the eye drops and ointment don’t show any signs of improvement, you will have to see a eye specialist.”
“And you’ll have to have an operation and get the lump cut out.”
Fuck you!  Why are you saying this?!  He obviously knows that I was really upset this morning, so who, someone with a heart, would say the exact same thing, knowing the reaction he would get?!  A dick head, that’s what.  So I cry again.  As you can tell, this is my Post-MS.  And that’s why I conclude that my parents are shit.  And now I boycott dinner.
Oh another thing, I called my mum like ten times and she didn’t pick up once.  She calls me an hour later and I ignore her call.  Fuck you.  My dad’s like, “What the hell Alina!  You should answer it!  She’s asking to see where we are, for dinner!!”
And I tell him it’s because I called her a tonne of times and she didn’t pick up or call me back until she wanted to call.  So fuck that.
Then he’s all like, you need to relax!  Well I fucking am trying to relax but you both are making me stress out a thousand times!!  All your nagging, incessant comments about where I should study, turning off the internet, fuck you!
Parents you suck.
Dog shit,
Just Another Woo Girl

Seeing my dad in a new perspective

As a kid I had always said I don’t want to be a doctor when I grow up.  I can confidently say now, that that was because of sheer stubbornness (which I still possess, not sure whether to say sadly, I suppose because I’ve just accepted it, perhaps embraced it…).

Anyway, this morning, my dad shared some of his story with me that he hadn’t before.

I’d always thought my dad was boastful and big-headed, I suppose he still is.  He used to boast about how he became a doctor, at this specific dinner party that I remember.  He spoke about his experiences in third person, which really, probably cemented this idea of him in my mind.  I know that he came from extremely poor backgrounds in China, but I don’t think I appreciated the amount of work he put in to get where he was.  He always emphasised, that he was one in five, or one in three, of third in three-hundred, to gain a highly sought after position, or win a scholarship, or fellowship, and I would think, wow, that’s so great, but not really understand how hard he worked.

So it turns out he didn’t start off his uni life in Medicine, I had never really thought about how he got to Australia, but it’s really hard to.

Anyway, so he told me, that his father was adamant in having his son pursue a career in medicine.  But my dad, really liked technology, was really good, and wanted to study it.  He sat an exam or course at College and when his dad found out, he got really angry.  He started crying when telling me this, because he died last year from a heart attack, I didn’t know what to do.  Don’t judge me.  He decided to study technology anyway, against his fathers wishes I guess.  Somehow he started to talk about science and studying science, so I’m not really sure what he studied, but now I think it must’ve been science.  Anyway, so he moved away from the poor country town to study.

Oh wait, so he sat the exam for college, but he didn’t make it.  So he was devastated.  He had a newfound motivation to study harder, and I suppose he got into science.

Anyway, he moved into the city to go to university.  He was the poorest kid, he wore the same clothes. And he said, the only thing he cared about was his health and his studies.  And this reminded me of how he used to tell me that every morning, he’d get up at around 5am and run laps around the park.  And now I knew why, because he could only care for himself in this aspect, every other aspect was out of his hands without money.

So he worked super hard, having great motivation.  He didn’t speak Mandarin well, so it was hard to learn, so he had to learn a new language as well.  He graduated top of his class.  Something like that.  He goes on to learn English so he can gain opportunities overseas.  One of his friends had gotten the chance to go to America to study and do research, and he’d sent photos back, and he’d changed.  All the students at the uni had good backgrounds, were rich.

I guess I do take things for granted.

So then things happen, he’s chosen to be sponsored to go to Australia for a research grant.  His supervisor is an amazing guy who likes my dad heaps, and even goes on to pay for him to stay and do his Masters and PhD in Adelaide.  I think he died of cancer, I’m not sure, but my dad loves him heaps, there’s a photo of him in the study, it’s black and white, and is always up wherever we move.  Anyway, my dad does his PhD and finishes it, having written eight papers, unlike the usual two.  Proud.

I guess all these things happened, and that’s why I got to be born, and that’s why we live in Australia.  I once asked my dad recently why he didn’t choose to go to Sydney or something when he came to Australia, then we could’ve lived by the beach or something.  And he said, we mightn’t even live in Australia right now, because the supervisor wouldn’t have liked me as much as his own did.  Then I said I can’t imagine living in China, and he said, you wouldn’t even have been born.

Quite a profound thought that was.

I don’t know.  He went onto say, it was because of his motivation that he succeeded.  And made his father proud as well.  He said, he does medicine to help people, not for the money.

People at his clinic said he went through patients the fastest, seeing the most patients each day.  I used to link this thought to money, not that he met them as quickly as possible, but that you’d make quite a bit.  But I realise that it’s because he wants to help as many people as possible each day, and also because he’s good at what he does.

Makes me see my dad in a new light.

Since he did so well in all his studies, he went on to study Medicine at Flinders University, I think, or the University of Adelaide…  Not sure.

Another plus, he said he’s going to get the whole family an iPhone 5 before we go to America for a holiday.  Yay!

Just Another Woo Girl