Disaster! We’ve almost run out of scrap paper. I thought it’d never happen but I’ve reached the bottom of the pile, written all over the back of my Year 9 Social Sciences worksheets. Will I endure until the pile is replenished during the Annual Work Filing Festival?

Until then, I am eager to accept all donations of unwanted single-sided scrap paper. Eligible donations include:

• A4 office paper (60 gsm and above)
  
• Large envelopes
  
• Ruled paper
  
• Thick card of all sizes
  
• Personal correspondence that should not on any terms be revealed to anyone else

As you may know, I am not eating any junk food at the moment. I took a broad definition of “junk food”. Basically, it includes anything that is subject to the disapproval of more than 30% of society. So I did without coffee for two days. It was not good. I was sleepy, moody and listless. Study was inefficient.

For the good of my final semester marks, I’ve given in to a mug of morning coffee this morning. I will wean myself off the drug after Thursday.

Economic Left/Right: -2.50

Social Libertarian/Authoritarian: -4.92

See my score graphically.

I am an Liberal Leftist, which means that I believe in central planning (to some extent) and the value of the individual. Other Liberal Leftists include Gandhi, the Dalai Lama and Nelson Mandela. Sounds like I’m in good company but I honestly thought I’d be closer to the economic right. I love the elegance of markets! In fact, while studying for my economics exam on Wednesday, I giggle at the witticisms in my economics text book!

I am the opposite of George W. Bush, John Howard and Ariel Sharon, who advocate authoritarianism and deregulated market economies.

I would like to know how you score on the Political Compass. Have a go?

P.S. Ooh! Ooh! Check out where your favourite composers are on the Political Compass!

I went for a walk at around 1:30 this afternoon. On a whim, I asked Jason if he wanted to come. I didn’t expect him to say yes. He doesn’t often come walking with me or my mum. He had just woken up and his hair was standing up like a cockatoo‘s crest. But he said yes, hold on, I’ll get changed. And I said, okay, it’s warm, you’d better wear short sleeves.

So we spent the next hour wandering around our neighbourhood. I live in a nice place for walking. The houses have pretty gardens, there are parks nearby and the footpath goes up and down. The up-and-downness is not so good for skating or riding but it makes for interesting walking.

Jason is on the cusp of making some decisions. I like making decisions. I like to research, weigh up the pros and cons, scenariocise the various options with my vivid imagination. Jason doesn’t like decisions as much, especially when he doesn’t know what he wants.

He will be going to California at the end of November to work for three months as a computer science intern. He doesn’t know what he wants to do after that. His options are:

• Come back to Australia and do Honours
  
• Come back to Australia and enrol in another degree or do further training
  
• Come back to Australia to find a job
  
• Stay in the US to work some more

Jason has had enough of studying computer science but he doesn’t like the job prospects with a straight Bachelors degree.

After walking a while, we decided that he should re-enrol anyway and if he wants to do something else next year, he can take intermission. That way, no concrete decisions need to be made for another year.

Why would you, my readers, be interested in all this? I don’t know. I just felt like writing a straight, cheese sandwich sort of entry.

After we solved his problems, I got to listen to my brother enthuse about his car and all the plans he has for it. BOYS. *roll eyes*

On Saturday, I ate lots of cake. In a backlash, I decided to go without junk food for as long as I could. None of this “moderation” business; it was cold turkey or nothing.

I resisted Kate’s temptations. I withstood mum urging me to eat her newly baked coconut rolls. I ignored the many treats scattered throughout the house. Today, though, my resolution was spectacularly smashed.

I went to a trivia competition at which we were showered with chips, soft drink, chocolate and lollies (aka sweets). I thought, “This is all right. I can handle this. No worries.” But then the peanut M&Ms arrived. I love peanut M&Ms. I love them and have them so rarely that I sieze every opportunity to eat them in the expectation that I won’t be able to eat them for a long time.

(Some background for you all — there is no chocolate at my house. Ever. We just don’t buy it and that’s the way I like it.)

One M&M, two M&M, three M&M, four.

Five M&M, six M&M, seven M&M, more.

Crunch, crunch.

And then it was downhill after that. I ate some chips. I didn’t drink any soft drink. I have been off soft drink ever since someone told me eight years ago that every bubble in soft drink destroys one of the alveoli in my lungs.

I will resume my no-junk regime tomorrow. I’m not on a diet, I just find it interesting to test my resolve. I figure some people’s weaknesses are cigarettes, gambling, heroin, moisturiser. Mine are peanut M&Ms.

I’m testing out a bracelet. I think it’s silver plated but I’m not sure. I will find out soon. The only metals I can wear without a skin reaction are gold and silver. You might say my skin has refined taste but it’s also happy to wear plastic jewellery.

I’m feeling a bit down. I’ve just watched ‘The OC‘ for the first time. So much angst. Marisa pines after Ryan. Teresa dreams of Ryan. Eddie loves Teresa. Ryan doesn’t know who he likes. Summer likes Seth. Seth likes Summer… or maybe he likes Anna. And so on. How do I manage to remember these names?

Ah, love. So many things can go wrong. In fact, it’s a miracle that anything ever goes right. Think about it. Out of all the people out there in the world, what are the odds that the person you like will like you back? Aren’t there some people who are more attractive than others? Doesn’t everyone like the intelligent, pleasant, beautiful people? Does that mean the attractive people get the pick of the lot and the dredges of society are stuck with each other?

I don’t know. What do you think? Do you look around and see all the “good” people together? Okay, so there’s probably more than one definition of “good”.

I have a friend who believes in fate and “the one”, even though she acknowledges that the belief is full of holes. She thinks that what is meant to be is meant to be, that people fit together.

My idea is quite different. I don’t believe that people are meant for each other. I think that people have initial compatabilities, a natural tendency to get along, feed off each other, be attracted to each other. But the initial compatability is not the deciding factor. You can grow into each other. I think of it like two jigsaw pieces. Some pieces will fit well together immediately. Others might have the generally correct shape but in time, you can jiggle the pieces about, nudge the pieces until you get a reasonable fit. It does take more work but the fit might end up being better than if the pieces fit okay in the first place but no work was put into it.

Some consequences of my theory are:

• There is no “one” person for you. There are lots of jigsaw pieces out there that, with a bit of work, could work out.
  
• History is as important or even more important than initial attraction. The time you spend together gives the relationship its own legitimacy.
  
• Ergo, just because you are attracted to someone, doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to abandon an existing relationship in the belief that this may be something better.
  
• Crushes are the seed of a relationship that will bloom only if it is fed. If the crush isn’t “fed”, then the crush will die.
  
• Some people need more feeding than others.

Okay, I’m done now.

I went to see Damjan, James, Megan perform in a music concert yesterday. I felt proud that I had such talented friends. I was particularly impressed by the Handbell Ensemble. Each person looks after a few bells, representing different notes. No one carries the tune — it’s up to the team as a whole to perform in time. Wow! What concentration required! It was amazing and a lovely sound, too.

After the concert, we went to Brunswick Street and had cakes and savouries. I really enjoy these nights out with friends. They always come to reluctant ends (the nights, I mean, not my friends).

I spent from 12 PM to 9 PM today at our dance concert. It was tiring but very fun. I chatted with friends, danced backstage and outside, was completely psychotically manically silly the whole day. I did six items but the main two were “Ghostbusters” and “Rave”. The audienced loved Ghostbusters. We start off backing into the stage, terrified and whimpering but then we jump up, whip around and show our Ghostbusters logo at the back. Everyone LAUGHS. It’s awesome (as Ajay would say). We got enthusiastic applause at the end. What a great routine (Hooray Liz!).

Rave was FUN, FUN, FUN. The stage is blacked out. When the *doof* *doof* music starts, we have glow sticks and we punch them into the air in time with the beat. “Doof! Doof! Doof! Hey boy. Doof! Doof! Doof! Hey girl. Doof! Doof! Doof! Superstar DJ. Doof! Doof! Doof! HERE WE GO!” and it’s just crazy and sparkly and fast after that. Jump! Jump! Jump! Jump! Big fish, little fish!

I wore a wig of shiny, colourful tinsel. Attention. Love it.

I was saved from a dreary, productive Friday night of studying by, of all things, a university seminar. The Engineering Faculty had organised for its final year students a two course meal, wine, coffee and chocolate. The premise was that we uncouth engineers would learn the business ettiquette of dining out. Our guru for the evening was Stephen Downes, whose restaurant reviews I read every Tuesday because I’ve outgrown the Learn section in the Herald Sun.

What a lovely night it was! Surrounded by my friends, I enjoyed a glass of wine and gradually learned how to wrap my wide-eyed unworldly self in layers of cool, capable sophistication. You see, it’s the only way we can compete against those French engineers, who are both brilliant and charming.

The evening began with Mr Downes having us visualise our first encounter with the Terror Cocktails. He stood before us, suited up in black with pink camels on his tie.

“Everyone has a drink? Good. First thing’s first. How do we hold our glasses?”

I smiled to myself as I stood confidently, my feet thirty centimetres apart, shoulders back. Ha! I had this down pat.

He continued. “We don’t do what many women often do, and that is the twee double hand hold of the glass…”

I blinked and slowly dropped my left hand from the glass.

“Which hand do we hold the glass in? … Our left of course, because people don’t like to shake a frosty right hand.”

Um. I shifted the glass from my right had to the left.

“And we don’t just hang the glass down by our sides. Keep it up at just below your chest.”

Utterly deflated, I jerked the glass up from my side. Oh, the uncouthness of me!

As the evening progressed, I learned how to mingle, order appropriately at restaurants, basic table manners and wine matching, the art of table conversation, how to be a good host and put people at ease… ‘Twas all brilliant and useful. We all had a good giggle at our artlessness.

By the end of the night, I was satisfied. I’m going to be a Super Woman Powerhouse of the business world! I am armed and ready! I exude savoir vivre!

“At the end of the meal,” Mr Downes announced, “Whatever you do, don’t refold your napkin. It’s not like the restaurant is going to use it again!”

As everyone laughed heartily, I bit my lip, quickly reached over and scrunched the neatly refolded napkin in front of me.

We were lounging around in the sunshine, relieved that the last assignment had been handed in. Horror stories of late nights were shared all round.

Sally related this particular incident:

It’s crazy what we go through. I was in the computer lab and saw some poor fellow staring blearily at the screen. He had been there since I walked in two hours ago. Finally, he turned around to his friend and said thickly, “I think it’s done.”

Sympathetically, I asked, “Wow, how long have you been here?”

He looked at me blankly, then slowly said, “Two days.”

I looked at the pile of empty Coke bottles around him and believed it!

I’m alive! And awake too, even with four hours sleep.

I flatter myself in believing that you will be glad to know that all 80+ pages of work turned out acceptably. Gosh, I had a hell of a time printing. I try to do the right thing and print double sided but what a headache. If you have multiple Microsoft Word ‘sections’, it’s virtually impossible to get Word to print the page you want. “Page 2? Which page 2? Oh, I’ll just print a random page 2, how about that?”

Yesterday, I had economics until 9 PM, then I planned to rush home to finish my project. As is our custom, it was my turn to drive Kate to her car at the end of the night. We had a nice chat on that two minute trip to the other side of uni, up the three levels of parking, then pulling up next to her car. She started rummaging through her bag for her car keys. Hmm, not there. Time to pull things out of her bag in a steady unpanicked way. Soon everything was on the ground — still no keys. It’s our last resort, but we peek into her car. There they were, dangling in the ignition behind Locked Door Number 1. Aiya.

Kate called RACV for roadside assistance. They said they would be there in ten to thirty minutes. Kate urged me to go home to do my work (uncharacteristically, Kate had finished her project one whole day early!) but you can’t leave a girl waiting outside a locked car at 9 PM in the middle of the third storey of a carpark! Of course I stayed. We spent the next twenty minutes walking in clockwise circuits around the carpark. This initially disturbed me out because I’m used to skating and dancing anti-clockwise but being the adaptable person I am, I soon got the hang of it.

The next ten minutes, we spent locked up in my car because some boys drove up and started “loitering”.

At 9:30 PM, the yellow mini-truck arrived and the nice RACV man gave Kate and I some tips about breaking into a car. Instead of fiddling with the door lock, the RACV man drove a wedge into the back window frame, popped the glass open, got a curved rod and managed to wind down the window. After that, it was a simple matter of reaching in and opening the back door, then opening the front door and getting the keys out. Hurrah! We were most impressed. But one question remained — What would he have done if the car had power windows?

Worried. Yesterday, sat down:

Time needed to complete thesis – 20 hours

Time available – 19 hours

…Probably do-able. Not much sleep, though.

Then. Woke up. Turned on computer. Opened file I haven’t worked on since Saturday. All work – GONE. GONE. GONE.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH

Frantic. Disbelieving. How can this be happening? Check. GROAN GROAN GROAN.

Come on, Joan. Deal with it. It’s done. Just do it. Just do it. Make it BETTER than before.

Okay, okay. Okay. Right.

GROAN.

All right, dealt with it. Start again. Concentrate. Knuckle down.

I’ve caught up now. Ten hours of work done in four hours. Plans screwed up, though. I’ll let you know what happens.

P.S. For those of you interested, it was my own fault. I have a massive worksheet of figures about energy use. It’s the basis of my environmental design. I copied it to another worksheet so that I could do statistical analysis on it. I deleted rows, summed things, got rid of irrelevant columns, changed the data order. Then I went back to my original file of data and realised that I had moved not copied the spreadsheet. All the data was gone, hours and hours of research and assumptions. I tried to re-jig an old version of the file (only one day older but so much was missing) but it was too hard to make the figures the same. I ended up having to start again with new assumptions and change all the figures in my report.

My report is fifty pages long now. I reckon there are another thirty to go…