* June 2014

June 4th, 2014

Kick-Ass ~ /kik-as/

Apart from being a kind of weird but sadistically fun movie and a rather cool song by Mika, kick-ass is also a word which one would use to describe someone who does something that's so out of the ordinary and so darn awesome, there really is no other way of describing that person or action as being "Kick-Ass".


I am kick ass!


Okay, so I am NOT dressing up in a green and yellow scuba diving outfit to shoot people and get molested severely and repeatedly myself, nor am I singing songs about someone who does. But here is what I DID do:


Last Monday I went to see my GP because... okay this is a bit of embarrassing so I won't tell, but believe me when I say I was in a lot of pain and under the influence of a lot of painkillers already when I made my way to the doctor's office. I brought my mum because I knew what a spineless idiot I become in said doctor's office, so I told my mum to stop me from settling for anything other than a follow-up appointment in the hospital.


What usually happens is that my doctor, when referring me to the hospital by letter, simply types up that letter so I can call a hospital of preference and make an appointment myself. What happened this time is that she, without any warning or question, sent a referral letter through some internal system to the one hospital I refuse to go to. Seriously, I wouldn't want to go there if I was dead!
But after she told me what she'd done and I asked her if it was possible to go to the other hospital, the one I usually go to because, frankly, they're way nicer and don't treat me as if I'm a pile of worthless crap, she said (and this is a direct translated quote): "Yes, but not now any more."


B*tch.


She gave me a letter I needed to make an appointment with and sort of scooped me out of her office, although she could tell I wasn't happy. Now, I don't know exactly why I didn't speak up that moment, but I blame the painkillers and the desperate need to go home and sleep. And so I went home, thinking my life sucks anyway and who am I to complain about a simple thing such as a hospital...


But later I got really upset and freaked out completely, and in the end I remembered what my job coach told me: I need to stand up for myself more. If there is anything I feel bad about, I shouldn't do it just to please others, but I should go out and make it right for ME.


And after 2 days and 5 phone calls I FINALLY got hold of the doctor's assistant and told her that come what may, but I am never ever going back to that sh*thole of a hospital ever again, in my entire life, and that she better sort it out for me. 


That was so kick-ass, me doing that! And even though my lousy GP (I swear I should've taken on a new one years ago) isn't in until next week Wednesday and I have to call her back (read: stalk her office for 3 days again before I get hold of anyone) to remind her to re-send the internal email to the RIGHT hospital, I am super relieved I no longer have to force myself to do something I absolutely don't want to!


So world, beware! I am becoming stronger and stronger and less afraid of doing what I want and, very imporantly, I'm becoming better at not doing what I DON'T want!


'Cause I can rule the world, baby. On a silver platter.

June 11th, 2014

Little things ~ /lit-l things/

"It's the little details that are vital. Little things make big things happen." - John Wooden.

Oh, look at that little hamster... isn't it just the cutest little thing? :3

Okay, back on track now. It may sound cheesy, but it's true: little things mean a lot. They can make you happier than any big thing ever will in the long run. Really, it's the small things, such as a nice smell in the air, a friendly gesture or finding the world's best liquor in your own liquor store.

Which is exactly what happened to me today :D

Don't get me wrong, I am a) not an alcoholic and b) it's not as if I am talking about a random type of liquor you can buy anywhere. This happened to be a traditional Estonian herbal and rum mixture, which tastes frigging amazing, and I never ever ever EVER thought I'd ever drink it again, because I assumed it couldn't be purchased anywhere outside of Estonia.

And I never thought I'd ever say this, but: wow, am I glad to be wrong!

My small yet very much appreciated bottle of Vana Tallinn (which will definitely be opened tonight, who cares if I'm leaving for Dublin this weekend) made me realize it really are the little things in life that can give us the greatest pleasures. I know it sounds stupid, but it truly is.

And tomorrow I am hopping back on a plane to Dublin, to meet up with my previous host family there and one of my ex-house mates, who is flying in from England to say her final goodbyes before going back home to Korea.
Even though I had my doubts on whether or not I could afford to go (which is silly, because I think I am one of the most responsible people on this planet and I'd never ever let myself go bankrupt) I am stoked I decided to buy plane tickets and go over there. It will be SO good to see them all again, to have dinners again and to laugh as much again as we used to do back in the fall. I'm excited thinking about walking around in one of my favourite cities in the world and drinking white mocha lattés again, visiting my man Oscar Wilde's statue again, ride the buses and enjoy Guinness and Baileys again as you can only do best in Ireland itself.

Everyone was right. John Wooden (I have NO clue who he is/was, but I liked the quote) was right. My grandmother was right. Jillian Michaels was right. Boyz II Men were right*. Little things DO mean a lot! We should appreciate what we've got. Every day. Because in the end, it's the small details that matter most.

I still like this song! Even if it's older than me, probably ;)

 
*I refuse to state that One Direction was right, too. I'm too old to care about boy bands any more.

June 18th, 2014

Stalker ~ /staw-ker/

A stalker is someone who refuses to give up in hunting people down, following them around and keeping a very, VERY close eye on them. They always know where to go to meet the right persons (even if the right persons don't wish to meet them) and will not give up. I repeat: Will. Not. Give. Up.

I know you're probably wondering why on Earth I put Zappacosta's Overload at the top of this page when the word I've chosen is "Stalker", but that's because I think it's a very stalkerish song ("I can hear your heels, clicking on the side walk..." and "I follow you home, every night...", just to name a few).

I've turned into a stalker. That is to say, my job coach is turning me into a stalker. She says in order to find out what I really want to do and to get a better idea as to how I'd be able to get there, I should start emailing people with jobs that appeal to me, and ask them all about how they got it, what it is they do exactly and how I could get there, too.

At first I thought it was really scary and I was afraid I wouldn't be good at it and people would just ignore me. But out of the 3 emails I've sent out, I've received 2 replies! That's more than I had ever imagined! I've tasted the sweetness that's called success and ever since, I've felt like doing some more stalking.

So last weekend, when I went to Dublin to meet up with my ex-house mate (who after this is moving back to Korea) and my ex-host family, me and my Korean friend went to our ex-language school to stalk some ex-teachers.

And it was fun!

On the bus to the city centre I was so nervous, because I was convinced my teacher wouldn't recognise me after 6 months (whereas NOBODY could EVER forget my Korean house mate!), and my house mate told me she thought it best if we'd both find out in what classroom our favourite teachers where positioned, stalk them on our own, and meet back in a cafe afterwards.

But, the Luck of the Irish was on myside! Her and my favourite teachers were in adjacent classrooms, so we could surprise them together. Hurrah!

The surprise was mainly on my part though, when after my teacher came out the door and spotted me, it took him less than a nanosecond to remember who I was. And 2 minutes to recognise my Korean friend.

Which just goes to show you're never sure of how things will work out.

I had my doubts on whether this was a good or a bad sign, him recognising me so quickly, but after he gave us both his email I assumed the former was the case.

I swear my stalker skills are improving day by day! I wonder who I'll stalk next. Hmm...

June 21st, 2014

Tangible ~ /tan-juh-buh l/

As one of the most beautiful words in the English vocabulary, tangible means something is physically touchable. Think about the beautiful love bird you see in this picture. The computer screen you're viewing it from, is also tangible. The eyes with which you are looking at your computer screen, are also very tangible. I think you get my point.

Look at that beautiful little birdie in the picture. Isn't she cute? That's the look she used to give me whenever she was up to mischief and was in need of some love and attention.

She died last night :(

Death, as much as birth, is not tangible at all. Piepertje (/peep-err-cha/) was at least 13 years old when she left us, and she was not alone when she died. Some people might think it sad, pathetic even, but I couldn't leave her alone when I saw she was near her end, nor could my mum. In those 13 years, she became another member of our family, and we didn't want her to die lonely. So we stayed up a good few hours into the night, just to watch over her as she was slipping away from us.

And that's when I got a little bit poetic. Because I realised death is exactly the same as being born, only reversed. It is an inevitable part of life and we all must go through it in the end. Those two things we can only do once, and we must make the journey alone. (even if there are people watching over us when we're in transition).
And although we all know the concepts of life and death, we can't touch them. We can describe them, but we can't draw them in a picture. The symbols we have designed to make these transitions tangible, are nothing but mere symbols.

It's there, it's a feeling, it comes over you and it surrounds you. You can sense it in your whole body. But no matter how far you reach or how much you try, you can't touch it.

Nothing is less tangible than birth or death.

Although love comes in as a close second. You can always show the ones you love how much you care, even though love itself, that feeling you have, can never literally be touched.

I loved Piepertje. She was my cutie. She would never leave me hanging when I was whistling, clapping my hands or snapping my fingers at her. If I was sad, she'd sit on my shoulder and sing loudly and continuously until I'd put a smile back on my face. She loved it when I stroked her back, and loved it even more when I showered her with soft kisses.

She taught herself how to sneeze and screech her own name.

Piepertje was one of a kind and I'll miss her deeply. Maybe that sounds weird, but that's what love is. Not tangible, but not limited either.

"The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living" - Marcus Tullius Cicero
RIP Piepertje

June 23rd, 2014

Anxious ~ /angk-shuh s/

"It's not the future that you're afraid of, it's repeating the past that makes you anxious - Unknown

I have a job interview tomorrow! After 6 months of looking for something to do, trying to find out what I want, having tons of ups and downs, adjusting my plans and making many new ones to replace old, failed plans, and applying for so many jobs I lost count and got sore fingers from typing, I have finally landed a job interview!

I honestly have no clue why I am so excited, because it's only for a temporary job as a helpdesk attendant. But still. It's a job. It's money! Yay!

And it means that, if I get it, I'll be able to revert back to one of my discarded plans. I will be able to dust it off, give it a little polish to make it shine again, and pick up from where I left off.

It should be great.

IF I make a good impression... *sigh*. Let's be honest here: making good impressions is not my forte. I usually end up getting so nervous for any interview, I giggle and laugh at everything they or I say.

Makes you wonder how I ever got a job in the past... Hmm...

It will be fine. It'll be FINE!

Lord, I hope it'll be fine!

Honestly, I think it will be okay. In the past, whenever I (finally) got a job interview, I'd always end up getting hired. Even after showing up an hour late for the interview. See? I musn't be so anxious. Apparently I'm charming and smart. I will do great.
And in the case of me not making a smashing impression tomorrow, there's always the knowledge that I received the same job vacancy four times in my mailbox. AND the lady who's in charge of hiring called me 2 minutes after I sent in my application. So I think they're desperate, honestly.

Which goes to show what a crappy job it probably is... But still, I'm desperate too! For a job! So I'm happy they want to meet me.

So, we'll see. I'll just be my usual self and try to stay away from giggling too much. And I'll show up on time this time, that'll probably help, too.

June 26th, 2014

Let-down ~ /let-doun/

A let-down is something you've been looking forward to, something you believed in, only to find out it wasn't at all what you expected it to be. A let-down is what makes you think: "Really?" and: "Well, that was a bummer," and in most occasions even makes you use the F-word. A lot.

In my case it wasn't so much the F-word but more the B-word I was thinking of after I got home from my appointment with the gynaecologist. Here's my let-down in a nutshell:

For months, I have been feeling bad to worse to worst when it comes down to my menstruation. I know, not a very appealing topic, so I'll leave it at this one mentioning, but my complaints were getting so bad I ended up thinking I must be terminally ill.

I KNOW I am not terminally ill. But hormones do weird things to your brains and I swear it had gotten to a stage were I would be convinced, every other couple of weeks, that something was very, very wrong with me and I was sure to die soon.

And so I went to my GP and fought with her until I got to go to my preferred hospital (which is described in another entry, Kick-Ass, that can be found a bit further down this page) and yesterday it was finally time to let the gynaecologist figure out what I thought would be my soon-to-be cause of death.

Only I just sat there in her office, after she had kept me waiting for 30 minutes, listing all the complaints and the pains and the discomforts that keep adding up and make me feel so desperate and bad. And I swear she was hardly listening at all, and in the end she said it was all just "very natural" (which I very much do not agree with!) and "hormonal" and the only thing that needed to be done was to regulate it by means of pills, "that's all."

B*tch.

I've had every darn pill there is on the market for this! None of them helped get rid of my discomforts and all of them gave me severe migraines and caused for loads of other nasty side effects. Plus, that's not what I came there for! I wanted to be checked up. And down. And echoed. And fixed. I wanted to be fixed!!

B*tch.

After she started being even more demeaning than she already was, claiming that even periods (sorry) of 3 weeks were "natural", I just... burst into tears. I couldn't help it! I just felt so... misunderstood, not taken seriously, disillusioned. She didn't even listen to me! She waved away all my fears as if they were ridiculous and stupid! She kept asking if I'd ever had had an "internal examination" and when I kept saying no, she just kept replying that it wasn't necessary anyway. Whut?

Anyway, I felt so let down, I started to cry. That's when she caved in, but only just a teeny tiny bit, and took an echo of my belly, just as they do with pregnant women.

Well, good news is I am not pregnant -_- Bad news is that all she said during the echo was... well, nothing. So I know... nothing. And I still feel scared and upset about my body.

B*tch.

In the end, she gave me an option: try the Pill again or have some hormonal small ingot, the size of a matchstick, injected into my lower left arm. Either option would help regulate my hormones and (hopefully) release the pains and discomforts I experience... well, every 2 weeks by now (see? I TOLD you there is something terribly wrong with me!). Out of other options, I chose the matchstick thingy.

B*tch.

This is I think my biggest let-down of this year. Maybe even of my whole life. Still, no check ups, no actions being taken, nothing. Just another temporary solution to a lifelong problem (well, semi-lifelong problem, but you get the point). This sucks.

This thing in my arm better work. Doctor c*nt (pun intended) said I should be able to tell whether it does so or not after approximately 3 months. If it does, it will help me for 3 years straight.

So let's all hope this solution will not turn out to be, well... just another let-down.