I helped out at the pub quiz in the college bar. It all went well; my college mates were nice and fun to talk to, my job was piss-easy, it got a bit boring but standing around waiting for people to answer questions on a sheet of paper before collecting said sheets of paper was never going to be supremely interesting. Still, it was a pretty enjoyable night. Towards the end, M, WY and A showed up, and we had fun talking.
When the quiz was over, I sat down next to WY who started giving me her legendary massage before she proceeded to braid my hair. Halfway through, guess who walked in?
I have been told that I am an open book. I cannot hide my feelings, though sometimes I try. Other times, like tonight, I absolutely cannot be fucked to hide them. He walked in and my eyes rested on him and the corners of my mouth turned upwards in the most perfunctory way and I said nothing. He was followed by the unfortunate girl that he was hitting on over the weekend. I was so distracted that it took me 3 seconds to realise that she'd said hi to me; we chatted on Saturday night and she's now occupying the room that I had last year, and so obviously, being the polite person that she is, she said hi. Three seconds later, I registered what was happening and I said, 'Hi!' with a big smile.
She went off. Gross Guy lingered, stood next to A, looked at his phone. Then WY leaned over me, called out to him; he came over, stood right in front of me. I looked at everywhere but him. WY left something in his pigeonhole so he went off to get it; as he went off, I involuntarily made a face, the kind that one would make when one is on the verge of retching.
Gross Guy unfortunately came back, thanked WY for the thank you card that she gave him (he helped her print her PhD thesis) and he stayed and chatted for way too fucking long. His cologne smelled as cheesy as the kitschy suits that he wears. Everything he said, everything he did, every utterance he made, caused me to roll my eyes in my head. I radiated unambiguous iciness, and I didn't care if he cared; his very presence annoyed the shit out of me.
The first thing that he said when he came in and saw the group was, 'Where did you guys went?' Excuse me while I cry with laughter.
I was also extremely grossed out on Sunday night at the cocktail party, to which I showed up 1.5 hours later (but 30 minutes before my shift), when I saw that he was schmoozing with Dominic.
I am almost convinced that this little incident is karma paying me back for 1) not appreciating someone decent and nice and genuine and pure like Dominic; and 2) thinking that Gross Guy is one of those good time guys that one has fun with. I mean, he probably is, but it is not right to objectify people like that. I wouldn't want to be thought of in those demeaning terms, so I should not think of others as such, too.
John was quite right, though. Why am I wasting time with people like that, with flirts that I was never going to seriously date anyway? John also said, Why aren't you going out with [insert name of guy I kinda fancy]? He's a good guy, he's smart, he writes well, I approve!
Why, indeed? If I were capable of understanding perfectly everything that I do, every decision that I make, every inclination that I act on, every stupid move that I make, then I would not be the same person now, would I?
I read half of my paper today and I was absolutely horrified when I spotted two mistakes in one page. I left out a word in a sentence and reversed the order of a couple of words a few lines down. The meaning is unaffected but it's sloppiness like this that I find unacceptable. The second mistake is especially terrible, but sometimes when I read my own work, I know what the sentence says, and so what is mentally sounded doesn't always match what is actually on the page (screen in this case, as I didn't proofread the final version on hard copy). I would trust my own proofreading skills over someone else's almost every single time...but perhaps not when it's a day before the deadline and I've only just reduced the word count and I am tired and forcing myself to proofread, but because I am tired, I miss little mistakes that I would have spotted if I have had one more day to do the proofreading.
I am an idiot.
Additionally, I am so not satisfied with my writing style - that is, my academic writing style. It is so bland and boring and pedestrian and just so blah.
Lastly, I misplaced my retainers that I have had since I was 10 during my move. This is really very upsetting. I wrapped it up in tissue which has proven to be a huge mistake. I'm not sure if I want anyone from the NHS poking around my teeth but if I don't get it replaced here, I'll need to go a few months without retainers. Who knows what my teeth would look like by then? This is annoying. I hate moving.