Hubris.co.nz

Today the floor was made of lava, and still littered with martini glasses from Sunday’s soiree. I peed, drank a litre of water in 15 minutes, and dragged my full bladder to Pacific Radiology in Newtown ,where I incorrectly took off my pants for a woman who covered my cunt with paper towels and squirted jelly on my belly. “There’s your bladder on the screen,” she said, pointing to the ominous big black shape on the screen. “I give you a 9/10 for fullness. I never give a ten.” Then I was allowed to pee, before she gave me a foot long probe and told me to insert it like a tampon. Luckily, I’m somewhat of a pro at that. She asked me to press down on a certain part of my belly so she could move my ovaries around. Apparently they’re on really loose ligaments. Who knew? Anyway, it appears that yes, my ovaries are full of cysts, but at least my uterus lining is okay. I’m not entirely sure what that means, but I guess I’ll find out at my follow-up with the gynecologist on Thursday, as well as get the results of the blood tests I had done the other week. Thank you, public health system. Apart from the fact that they sent me a letter addressed to “Baby Joanna McLeod”, which is pretty fucking insensitive for a girl who’s clearly having problems with her reproductive system.

Speaking of my name, someone came here googling “secret anti joanna mcleod hubris tumblr” – does such a thing exist? I MUST KNOW. And if it doesn’t exist (I couldn’t find it anyway) can someone please start one and give me publishing rights on it too? I’m sure I periodically hate myself much more than anyone else ever could!  Today I was so emo that after I went to dinner at my parents’ house, I drove all the way around the South Coast listening to Placebo.  I think it helped, a little bit.

It’s hard, because it’s been over a month, and I am still very… uncomfortable. That’s a word I could use. It’s a word to describe the intense panicky heartrate and fight reactions I had at the dentist, and also today a little whilst being scanned. It’s a word to describe how things are when paths occasionally cross, and it’s definitely the word to describe how my friends appear to be when I talk about it. Because of course they’re bored of it, of my not being over it, and how I will reference it in casual conversation, and they don’t know how to react or what to do about it. It’s how I feel because I would like to confront it, because that’s my preferred way of dealing with things, but uncomfortable was the reaction of someone else who would rather just forget it. And meanwhile I wonder what the implications are for my future, how I will deal with other people when they get around to touching me.

Oh and of course, me being me, that’s not at all the only drama in my life, because of course I make things way too complicated and stupid and dumb. And I’m so busy right now, there’s pretty much not an empty day in my calendar until March. That’s good for my #11in’11 challenges, but not so good for the noise in my head, if I can’t sleep because I’m trying to figure out what to wear to all these millions of social events, and how I will function at all of them, and also wondering why people would want to see me when I’m just going to get drunk and insult them. And then when I do sleep, I dream about apocalypses. Speaking of which, I guess it’s that time again right now.

So, while I’m drunk enough and also happy enough, I might give you a brief heads up. I’m really tempted to not to though, because oh for fucks sake, can people misunderstand me just a little bit more? Am I really that obtuse? I’m considering shutting down Hubris once and for all. I thought I was clearer and easier to understand on paper, but apparently not. It just really fucking bugs me, eh.

BUT! Here’s another list:

 <!-- and she's even more annoying in person in real life. the next two months are gonna be HELL -->

Okay, this is SUCH a bad sign, that’s it’s 3.15am on Tuesday morning and I’m still awake, unable to sleep so I’m at my computer, shivering in my slip and writing a journal entry. Arrrgh fucking aarrrgh fucking grr. Mind is very wound up right now, eh. Just a little bit. If I hadn’t left it in the lounge where Anji is sleeping, I’d be rehersing my speech right now. I mean, hey, I wrote it at 3am a couple’o nights ago anyways!

From midday until 9.45pm, I was in the computer lab, working on our broadcasting assignment. Well, that included a break for a trip to the bank (damn you Internet banking that promises to do rent transfers and then doesn’t) dinner with Andrea at Boiger King (misspelling intentional to proclaim pronounciation) and a five minute phone interview with a reporter from the Herald. Hi, I’m Joanna McLeod, and I want a job producing content for the Internet. Bob King asked me to answer the reporter’s questions, as apparently, I’m a sort of spokesperson for the course. Yay me! I was actually really proud, especially when the PR woman in Bob’s office who was doing name-badge stuff for the expo whilst listening to me told me I’d given a good interview.

Today I wrote a story about microchips in vending machines that make their products talk that went along with a video piece Trevor and Andrea did. I also did some page laying out, and wrote blurbs about the people in our group, and that kind of stuff. I was so so so proud to teach trevor how to align pictures to the left right in the middle of the text – something people who never used Frontpage Express or any other really bad WYSIWYG programs might never have learnt. And Joe and I did a layout in Fireworks that worked real nice. Wahoo. Yeah, sweet ass. Anyways, around 9.30pm I got a call from Garland and when I answered my cellie, the voice was liek “Hello stinky poo” so I realised that my family had arrived at my flat, so they agreed to come pick me up from tech. Goddamit, it’s SO cool having your parents pick you up from stuff – I think that’s what I miss most living in a flat. They were all hungry, so I took them to D72, but the kitchen was closed, so I suggested bread and hummus from foodtown, and got aggressive defending that situation, because I was just waaaaay too tired to think about another cafe. And as Mum and Neil and Anji had just driven up from welly, they were pretty tired too and took my advice.

Back at home, we ate yummy things on bread (brie! baba ganosh! smoked beef! parents’ money!) and drank (parents wine, Anji and I the last of my vodka) and watched first Clayton’s brilliant documentary on BFM, t then his sitcom. It was the third time I’ve seen the sitcom (and the doco, actually) but I think the tiredness and alcohol proved to be a winning combination, cos i kept giggling and giggling. Then I showed them the Flat Video, that covers my audition for Life On Tape – talking about kicking out Leyton, Clay’s 20th birthday dinner and Simon dancing, Brad doing spicegirl moves for my CD ROM, and our Survivor Final Episode Party. They were very very impressed, and laughed a lot. Then Mum and Neil went to their motel which is just 100 metres down the road – I worked there for all of two days – and Anji and I had another drink. We had the absolute best gossip. It was Anji who told me all the way back in 5th form that giving blow jobs was empowering, and I’m very grateful for that advice – even if I didn’t give one to my best friend’s b/f like she was suggesting at the time. Thanks Anji and Cosmo – my god, how scary is it the first time you go down on someone and you have no fucking idea what you’re doing? Until you remember Cosmo going “there’s no wrong way to give head” and you relax a little, that is. I think drinking from Pint Glasses probably wasn’t the smartest move ever, eh. What you think is a reasonable three drinks is more like six. AND I STILL CAN’T SLEEP! GRR! I hate being so intelligent and thinking so much!

I’m reading this really good book r ight now which I can’t for the life of me remember the name of – something about Johnny Thunder, and it’s about a girl falling for the wrong guy, and her lifestyle reminds me of Anji, and the writing of it’s so real I can see every scene, and if my light was on, I would tell you the name of the book so that you can read it too, but it’s all dark and stuff, cos I’ve been trying to sleep for ages, so I can’t tell you. Woah, that was a very long sentence. Sometimes I think you need a map to navigate these journal entries of mine. My eyes hurt, so I should probably crawl back into bed now. I’m so so so nervous about tomorrow -it’s the first day of the expo, and I’m making a speech and all. One of the grad dips came up to me today and said she was really glad it was me making the speech, since I’d done so well presenting our project to the class, and I just thought that was really really lovely of her. But yeah. I think I’m going to go shopping with mummy tomorrow to find something to wear – I haven’t washed my new media pants yet, and I really should have. I didn’t expect to be at tech so late. “Maybe later – I’ve got creamy goodness in my mouth right now”