A new plaything

Still learning the trade.

Jinn

You're an escape

I love it when its a thunderstorm, and you know that gloom to come.

I'm an overnight success story. I'm a size 36 to size 32. Remember how I confessed about wanting skinnies? I bought two pairs and lost more weight since.

I'm a dysfunctional body. Working against the natural process.

I'm on a deserved break, culminating from nights of thinking and working. But yet I'm adamant that my real break lies away from where I sit now. I feel heavy to motion. Hesitant still to make moves.

I'm hoping for rain, so I have a plausible reason to stay in.

I'm disgusted of the jail food I make to stay alive. But I know I'm hungry.

I'm glad to have found people I could share a common interest with at my institution. But doubtful still that anything substantial could me made out from it.

I'm missing home. But silently searching for signs that home misses me.

I'm in a position where cancer sticks are what keeps my blood flowing. But aware enough to know its what buries me.

I'm one to enjoy spontaneity. But when the opportunity becomes scarce, I wish things were planned out beforehand.

I'm enjoying the progression of things. But sceptical about the prospect.

I'm satisfied with wind in my face. But longing for it to blow me away.

I'm assuming its a placebo effect. But its too realistic to dispel that notion.

I love it when its marred by imperfections. But beautiful still.

I'm in a mire. But funny enough, I'm contented in here.

Jinn

Everytime you download music, a kitten dies

Here's a confession, I've always longed for one of those black skinny jeans that hugs you lovingly in the best places. But I cant fit into any. Either that or it bear hugs me.

The Man behind my door.

We're on extreme weather alert now apparently because Victoria Police texted everyone yesterday informing us of another possible bushfire due to escalating temperatures and strong winds today. Well they probably got the strong winds part correct because when I go out, my hair is struggling to hold in one style and I think the boxers I left out to dry last night turned out coated with dust, like a dust cushion somewhere around my scrotal regions now. It rained this morning as well, and the sky does not look like clearing up anytime soon, so chances are you wont be seeing another heartwarming picture of a fireman feeding a scalded koala bear in the papers.

This is the Edward Cullen your mother warned you about.

And with that, I hope this turns out to be the anti-climax to the end of summer.

Melissa Pong in the kitchen, only when the stars are aligned.

In an unrelated but equally interesting note, my university is on strike. Our vice-chancellor came out with a considerate idea to extend facilities by prospectively wanting to construct new campuses. This, in return, has required the university to slash expenses to as much as 30 million dollars. Thus, resulting in the inevitable sacking of 270 staff members and shutting down two other campuses in the outer suburbs. This incredible act of infamy increased student numbers in my campus by about 20 percent, some courses and subjects are in the works of being removed, and we now hold the honorable title of the institution with the 'Worst Teacher-Student Ratio' in Australia. Sigh.

I'm accustomed to sitting alone in uni. Its not easy mingling around.

So to oppose this modern form of hierarchal tyranny, the lecturers and tutors have decided to go on a boycott for about 6 days in 3 weeks. Which undoubtedly means NO NEED TO WAKE UP EARLY NEXT WEEK!

No lah, I'm really serious with my education. I'm dismayed, I really am.

Jinny