Captain and Echo

It's been a long time between posts.

I feel that I should add that I have now got two rampaging bundles of fluff. My little man's name is Captain and he is a rather small English Spot rabbit. 

He's a sweetheart. He loves orange pieces and banana and is very well trained. I had him for about five months before I took him to the Rabbit Run-away Orphanage to get him a friend. It took two trips since he managed to alienate all the female rabbits the first time round by attempting to mate with them immediately. One large bunny bopped him on the head and stunned him a bit. The second trip was a winner, as he seemed to have learnt his lesson and I returned home with Captain and little Echo.

 
Echo spent the first few months with one ear up. She was very thin to start with, but has fattened up quickly. She is a BIG rabbit. I can hold Cap with one hand but Echo needs two hands and some arm space.

She is easily frightened and still doesn't trust people. She is only happy to be patted when Captain is close by.

Captain spends a lot of time showing off for her. He runs and jumps and gets very put out if she doesn't pay him attention. She tries to pretend she doesn't care, but if Cap is out of sight for too long she gets anxious.

camembert vs brie

First day of the new  year and I've solved something that has haunted me for a decade. Do I like Camembert or Brie better? I know I have a strong preference for one over the other, but I can never remember which one. Official differences between the two? Cattle types, cattle feed and the size of the wheels.

The problem started when I decided I needed a good way to remember which one was better. Rather than writing it down somewhere, I immediately thought "well, brie is Bree, where the Prancing Pony is, and that scene was a bit sinister so that's how I'll remember I don't like Brie."

No. Because I love LOTR. I love it. So every single time I went to buy some fancy cheese I'd think "Bree.  Great book that. I'll get some Brie."  But a small part of me would wonder if I had it right. So I'd end up with two small cheeses instead of one giant spectacular one.

I finally did a quiet taste test for the sole purpose of gorging over NYE finding out the truth. It's Camembert. I like Camembert. I tried to think of something that would allow me to associate the word Camembert with greatness (better than LOTR) but all I could think of was Bert. And Bert and Ernie terrify me. It all started when I had a Sesame Street viewfinder that rotated through some joyful and lovely pictures of my favourite friends.  I was about three.  However, one of the images was a Halloween image with Ernie and a pumpkin.  I was so scared I would try to click through as fast as I could, but I was too small and adorable to think of a better way out and therefore I was forced to look at this freakish scene again and again. Bert is tainted by association.

There is no hope. I think I'll just move to hard cheeses this year.

Hello there!

Well hasn't this been a useless waste of a year (trust me, it has).

I haven't blogged, which was something I used to really enjoy and I haven't made enough of a dint in my thesis to please anyone.

I love doing my yearly report because it gives me a chance to learn and take pleasure from what I have succeeded in doing and look at a few areas where I haven't done so well.

So...

Triumphs:

1. I gave a drama free talk in front of my entire library.
2. Got a pet work project off the ground and funded
3. Stayed away from people who are bad for me (Mr N mainly)
4. I got on top of my finances.

Lousy stuff:

1. I'm selling my house. This is both good and bad.
2. I'm unfit.
3. My job is less than ideal.

Overall, it's been a pretty shit year.

Things for the new year:

1. Take a makeup course. I've been saying this for years, but I really want to learn how to do my makeup properly.
2. Learn how to do face-painting. This is sort of the same as task number 1 but more fun.
3. Learn to play my break-up banjo.
4. Either fix my job situation or find a new one.

This can all be done right? I mean, next year is a big one for me. I turn 30.  I've already decided on my 30th birthday present to myself, and it's super boring. I'm buying shares with my 'play savings'. Whoooo.

Here's to a better year next year.

How to do a basic budget and have an emergency account

I see so many people who screw up their finances. And I do understand why. When I first met Mr G, I had no clue about money or saving or budgeting. He gave me a lot of help, and now I'm all over it. But I suspect that working full-time would have done that to me regardless of his influence. What I don't understand, is how people can manage without having a budget or an emergency bank account.
Emergency accounts are the most important thing to me. They rescue you when you need them, and they prevent you from having to ask others for cash or from having to dodge bills.

1. Open a bank account that doesn't have a card attached.
2.  Automatically have $10 a week taken out of your regular account and put in your new account. If you get paid fortnightly, have $20 a fortnight taken out.
3. DON'T TOUCH THE MONEY

Now you have an emergency account!

And note, it's for emergencies.  It's not for when you realise you really want a new book/DVD/pair of jeans. It's not to buy someone a gift or to go out for dinner when someone asks. None of those things are emergencies.  It's not even for when you get halfway through the week and realise you blew your food money. If that happens, eat leftovers. You probably have some dried pasta. Stick some cheese on it. Buy a loaf of bread and some honey and suffer for a few days. A lack of delicious meals is not an emergency.

But of course, this is assuming that you even have a food budget. You might want a house or you might want a partner (and yes, that is a valid reason for getting your finances in order - being a financial disaster isn't sexy, and it's worse the older you get).

1. Work out how much you earn per week.
2. Deduct how much you pay in rent. If you don't pay rent then pretend that you do, and divert that money into your savings.
3. Deduct food money. $80-100 per week is what I would say is fair.
4. Deduct bill money. I include my water, electricity and my phone. If I had health insurance, it would include this as well.  I don't have an internet connection because... I have chosen to give myself more spending money per week.
5. Give yourself some weekly spending money. I think $100 is fair. This lets you go out and buy stuff you want within reason. If you want something that costs $100, then it forces you to think about how much you want it. Is it worth doing nothing else all week?
6. Now comes the best part.  After you have deducted all of those things, you may have some money left over from your original weekly wage. If so, that's rad, and that goes to your savings accounts . If not, then you need to readjust everything. You may need to reduce your weekly spending money. Eat cheaper foods, and make sure you always eat home cooked meals for breakfast, lunch and dinner rather than getting takeaway.
7. Under no circumstances should you get overly excited and attempt to save heaps by restricting your food and your fun money. Budgeting is just like losing weight. If you restrict yourself too heavily you will eventually snap and spend like crazy - saying to yourself 'I deserve it'. Also, your life will be crap. You'll be eating 2 minute noodles by yourself every night, which isn't exactly ideal.

Now let's get onto the part about savings accounts. Let's assume that you've now got somewhere between $40-400 left over for your savings.

My preference is to break that up even further. If you are just starting to save, I'd put half into an emergency account, a quarter into a holiday account and a quarter into a 'me' account. I know this might not make immediate sense, but budgeting is about making finances easier so that life is nicer.

I love having a holiday account. It means that at some stage, I can take a real stress free holiday without having to worry about how I pay for it. I know a woman who took a $10000 loan to finance a holiday. She hated it, because she thought about money the entire time.  If I want to go to New Zealand rather than country Victoria, then I need to save more and wait longer.

The 'me' account is more indulgent. It's for large, selfish purchases.  I only put $10 a week into mine, so that when Christmas comes around I can buy something for my family, and also buy a treat for myself. Since we are now doing a Kris Kringle thing for my immediate family, it's unlikely that I'd blow the entire $520. So I'd also use it for whatever else I'd like throughout the year that I couldn't afford with my weekly saving.

Once those accounts get to a reasonably healthy amount (say $1000 each), then you can continue kicking a low amount each week into them, and start a new account for something big - if that's what you want.

Now I'm hungry and depressed about how much I hate Christmas so we'll finish here.  Next time I might talk about debt. Because I've become fun like that.

Lately

I like my job. I mean, when I think of a safe happy place, I think of work. It's what happens when you pursue a career you love.

Yesterday Mr G and I painted some of our house. I sanded the skirting boards and door frames, the put the primer on. It took the entire day. It's sad that we're doing up the place to sell rather than to live and raise a family in. I've cried a few times over it. Mr G asked if I'd ever have time for a partner. I said yes, I'd have time for the right partner. He agreed that being friends is for the best. We are both so sad, and miss our relationship but that's just something we have to deal with.

He's a great man. Flaws yes, but he has never hurt me on purpose. That's not something I can say about any other partner. He also tries hard to adapt and improve.

So, at the moment, relationships aren't safe places. Home isn't a safe place because mum and dad rock up every few weeks, spend some time yelling and then go away again - leaving me exhausted.

But work is safe. I know what I'm doing there. I can control my output. I can make suggestions. Nobody yells at me (mostly). I have mentors and people to ask for help if I need it. On Friday I wrote a proposal for work that was higher level stuff than I should be doing. It was great to get that experience. I now have three part time staff I manage (not officially, because then I'd have to be paid more) and I have a full timer coming in a few weeks. He's cool too. Nice guy. Seems keen to learn which is brilliant.

As for the thesis, Mr G finally gave me some support. We talked about how I hated him resenting it. It's not fair that he complains about my lack of time when his job gives him take home work and extra activities like camps. It's not going well right now, because I've been crying over the house and I've been missing my best friend who is over in New Zealand on holiday. It's virtually impossible to produce strong work when you are counting the hours until a hug, a chat and a burger.

I compared my friends with Mr G's. explained that my friends try really hard to include people and talk and make everyone comfortable. His work friends are mostly jerks to me. Not overly mean or anything, just not inclusive or kind. He pointed out that his closest friends are really kind, which is true. They are lovely and make a proper effort. His family especially. It's hard going over all this again just because of the stupid house. I can't wait for it to be sold so we can all move on with life.

Lovely things

One of the nicest feelings in the world is when someone strokes your hair or face when you're sick.

Interesting development

For the first time in my entire life, I regret turning down a social function. I said no because I thought I'd feel stressed and nervous even though I would have been well looked after. Now I just feel sad that I didn't even try. I'm in my safe place, but it's not as perfect as it used to be. I think I might try to make more of an effort. I've let myself get lazy lately.

Scrivener and Endnote have fucked me over

Wow. I have had the most unproductive and horribly frustrating day.

I use Scrivener to work on my thesis.  What an epic mistake.  It refuses to talk to Endnote (which in itself is shitty and frustrating) and no matter how many times I follow the thousands of online instructions on making citations work, they just refuse. I have wasted weeks on this and I wish I could get all that time back.

Sure, Scrivener is awesome if you are in the sciences or doing creative writing. But for arts it's shockingly bad.  For history, it's back-breakingly painful.

I don't know what to do. I can go back to using word, or find another writing/citation tool.

I want to beat the crap out of everyone in my way, and most of all I want to beat the crap out of Christmas for fucking up my time.

FUCK EVERYTHING FUCK FUCK FUCK.

I cannot do a thesis part time and work full-time. I am seriously considering using all my leave early next year and just hiding away at my house (I'll have to send Mr G away somewhere) for weeks until I sort this bastard of a thing out.  In fact, that's exactly what I'll do. I can't live like this - I'm going to give myself a nervous breakdown.

Can't sleep, so panic.

It's past 11pm. I can't sleep, and I need to get up early tomorrow.

Today I did loads of uni work, which should have put me at ease. Instead I'm more freaked out than ever because I underestimated the epic pile of stuff that needs doing.

Fuuuuck.

Yes

http://thesiswhisperer.com/2011/10/20/5-ways-to-soothe-an-anxious-phd-student/

That's why I love my dad so much. When I cry about work he just feeds me then leaves me the fuck alone.

People DIE from thesisitis. It's a real thing and it can really kill you. Or cause your partner/friends to kill you. My psych said it's as painful and stressful as giving birth.  I couldn't comment since I am child-free.  Still, I'm in pain and I'm stressed and it's my baby, so I sort of understand.*

I'm back in the game today with 4 major problems solved and a vague idea of when I can send the draft to mum for a good hearty editing.

*No I don't. It's probably nothing like children.

timing

This is tough. I work full-time and I need to fit in 16 hours of thesis work a week.  I have the following options.

Both of these options assume that I get to work at 8am, and therefore wake up at 6:30am. If I want to workout, I need to be up at 5:30am.  This means getting to bed at 9-9:30 EVERY NIGHT. Which I'd be quite happy with. But they also only give me 3-4 hours a week of house stuff, which means cooking, cleaning, laundry and grocery shopping. That doesn't sound feasible. Timetable 1 gives me 10 hours of spare time, two which are non-negotiable. Timetable 2 gives me an entire Sunday off, but a brutal Saturday.

This is the final winner. I am now available for Sunday breakfast bookings. Nobody can encroach on any other times because it will ruin me and I might cry.

It's a bit hard knowing that my two great loves take up all my time. I have no people on this timetable.  My psych told me that the thesis is a real commitment, and I have to treat it as such.

True. I should know that. It's a second job really.

I can budget.

I've given up.

I am a shell of my former self.

The only thing I have right now is that I can budget so well I have somehow managed to save a few hundred dollars in my 'emergency' account in a stupidly short space of time.

So I've decided to open a 'frivolous things' account. I NEED this account so that I can place my hope and faith in material goods.

I will buy a jaunty hat, a stuffed crow and a colourful array of headbands.

HA HA HA! I will conquer this nasty 'emergency' feeling by purchasing things.

Coffee addiction

I say I have three cups of coffee a day. But what I mean is I get to three then I stop counting.

Yesterday I didn't have any coffee at all. And I got a raging headache and felt like shit.

Today I also didn't have any coffee, and I got a headache and felt average.

My body is exhausted. My mind is shattered and I am not coping well at all. I have no ability to withstand suggestion. Someone says "let's do this" and I just say "sure" without considering all the factors - travel, time, fatigue.

So I drank coffee to keep going. I was at the point where I couldn't function without it. Mr G and I had to make an emergency stop at a cafe after the funeral.

So I'm stopping with the coffee. I can't gauge how well I feel if I'm dosed up on caffeine all day. It sucks. I'll have even less energy. Work, thesis, food. No friends, no loved ones. I almost cried on a 10 minute walk today. I can't spread my time/energy out anymore.

I give it until the end of November. If I'm not starting to get better by then, I'm taking unpaid leave and moving home. I just can't do this. 

Mr G

Mr G's dad died.

I went home for a night to stay with him. There was no food.  He cried, got mad at me, told me how much he loves me then promised me the universe.
I didn't want the universe. I wanted love and attention.

That's really it. Because when you love someone you listen to them. You try to please them.

I don't want money and I don't want surprise gifts (got a pair of shoes). I wanted talking. Lots of talking. I wanted some understanding - I am so tired my bones hurt. I can't think because I'm in a fog and I just want to sleep and read all day.

At the same time, I want to be there for him. I want to help him and hug him when he cries and take care of him. I love him so much, I can't stand seeing him so shattered.

Memorial service is tomorrow.

Thanks parents

Mum and dad have told me I can live in their flat for a couple of months. I'm moving this weekend - they've put their foot down and told me they'll be expecting me to come round on Saturday with my stuff because we'll be having a family meeting (oh god) about my 'situation' so that we're all on the same page. Mum, dad, my sister and me. In a room. Talking about my love life.

:-/

I think they just want to check that I'm not having a breakdown.* I suspect that my dry, rational and emotionless behaviour has been scaring them.  Plus, they know I feel confused and upset, and I think that they're just not willing for me to just sit around the house wringing my hands.

I love it when they jump into action. They've basically constructed a mini-intervention.  Well done olds.

*I'm about 75% sure that I'm not.

Should have been said years ago

When I first met you I didn't know what to think of you. You were tall and arrogant looking. You kept arguing with me, but you were very flirtatious. I found it confronting. You found it amusing to say terrible things to make me blush, which at the time wasn't really very difficult.

Then you just kept it up. Challenging me. We started to talk on MSN. First casually chatting about our assignments, then it was epic discussions about our lives and love and the future. Then all of a sudden you were beautiful and I loved you. I went to EVERY class because you were there. I tried harder. I learnt more. I didn't realise what a hunger I have to know more, and what an expectation I have for people to be like you, and take the time to explain things to me.

We got a bit drunk right before my presentation because I was so scared. You decided Dutch courage was the only way for me to get through it. You were right, because I forgot all about that tutor I liked and just stormed through it - all the while wondering what kind of fool I was to put my marks in your hands. From memory, I got a HD.

I think that one of the best nights of my life was when it was 2am or some similar stupid hour, and we were working on our theses. I still have a copy of your track changes somewhere. Out of all the things in our messed up friendship that I deleted, there were two things I kept. The marked up copy and the first time you said 'I love you'.

You gave me books and music to listen to. Right now I have The Unbearable Lightness of Being next to me, because I love it. And it's strange because I don't know if I would have loved it the same way if I had found it on my own. You know that feeling when you love a book so much you feel like it is reading you? I've decided to reread some of your books in the hope that I'll either recognise that feeling or discover that the books can be put aside because the initial love I felt was confused and artificial.

The music I kept.

I think Carry Me Ohio is still one of my favourite songs. You kept telling me to listen to it. I used to wonder if that was your way of telling me you didn't love me enough to stay. To be honest, I was ok with that, because you made me fundamentally dissatisfied with my life, and that meant I went off into the world and had adventures.

The past year or two we haven't really talked. I've missed you. And now you're doing the best thing in the world! I love getting post. I mean, I go mad for it. First time I got a letter from Mr C I almost died from happiness. And now I get something from you too.

I've really missed talking to you.

Brunswick, shit men, sexual assault, good men

I want to talk about something really upsetting. Everyone in Melbourne knows about the recent murder that happened.

It upsets me that some people are now talking about what women should and shouldn't do. As if murder and rape can be prevented by a woman if she does something differently. What these assholes don't realise is that most women spend their entire lives adjusting their behaviour to keep themselves safe.

It enrages me. I don't think I know any women who haven't been in some way physically assaulted or sexually harassed.

It's how it is and it is shit. If you're a guy and you go out with your guy friends, do you stare at pretty women? Do you shout things at them? Call out to them because you're just having a laugh?

Or do you just stare then make a few comments about them?  Even if that's all, you're still part of the problem. We do have eyes you know. We can tell when you're staring, and when you turn to your buddies and you all laugh, we know you've probably said something offensive, lewd or cruel about us. Since you don't know us, you're probably talking about our bodies, our face and how we look.

At night, women walk under street lights. We walk in the middle of the road so we can tell if someone approaches. We keep our hands free. A policeman once told me to make sure I never have my headphones in at night, because rapists look for that so they can have an element of surprise. That scared the shit out of me.

I used to be terrified of groups of men. Mainly because I didn't know many good ones. I knew men that would stand behind their buddies, uncomfortable about the leering, the catcalls and the outright sexual harassment, but they would never have the guts to say or doing anything against it.

Anyway, I left my horrid hometown, and moved into the real world. And I found that wonderful men are out there in greater numbers than the jerks. The feral and frightening men are vocal and loud and screaming for our attention. The good men are pulling their mates into line and making sure that they set good examples.

The murder has terrified my father. He keeps texting me and calling me to see if I'm alright. Fair enough, I'm the irresponsible baby of the family and my parents still think I'm five. But to be completely honest, I'm not scared. I'm distressed for the woman in question and her family and friends. I'm horrified that this can happen to someone (and that last year I used to walk those streets on my own after dark). I'm fucking angry about the victim blaming bullshit that always crops up. But I love Melbourne. This is my city and I love it. It has scum. It has drug addicts. It has rapists. It also has the nice (but scary looking) guy that sat with me and chatted at some godforsaken train station late at night so that I'd feel safe (pity I thought he was going to attack me). It has the guy who is so nervous he can barely talk to any women, but who stood up for me. It has the guys I know who can't pull their mates into line because their mates are all GOOD MEN.

I'm not scared of men. I'm scared of psychos.

This should have been on the list

I'm shaking like a leaf.

My very first academic paper has been published.

You can't possibly be shy

This is too beautiful. I don't know why you never post yourself singing. I'd have liked that.It's been an age and I've never heard you sing.

Secret list

I have a secret list. Full of secret goals that can’t go on the main list because they’re either too weird or unconventional or people might try to talk me out of it.

Mr N knows a few of them, and now an opportunity to cross one off has come up. Around my birthday no less!  So I emailed him for some encouragement and got back one line basically saying “I dare you.”

I dare me too. Game on.

I'm really enjoying living:-D