A thorn in my side, some sand in my vagina

 I bought Jones a cactus for his birthday which is today and the cactus was covered in what seem like tiny fine little hairs but they’re actually little needles that poke into the skin, thick enough to hurt but thin enough to be a bitch to get out, like a thousand invisible splinters and even 12 hours after I handled it I can still feel them in there.  Why didn’t the florist warn me?  Yeah, I bought it from a florist.  In Spewtown.  He was suitably snobby and uninformative.  I guess if I bought it from a proper nursery I would have been warned and given a bunch of cactus-raising advice, but I’m a masochist, so I always go to Spewtown so I can be treated like the crap scrapped off someone’s shoe just because I don’t own one of those Palestinian scarf things and I come in wearing work clothes and I don’t have nearly enough facial piercings to be cool in Spewtown.   

How appropriate that what I give to Jones should keep on stabbing me all through the day after.

Speaking of how my life has been delayed several years by an undeserving parasite, I didn’t get an offer for uni.  I spent a couple of days being totally devastated and miserable, except when people would ask me a question I was amazingly good at being fake-cheerful, but then they’d leave me alone again and I’d be sinking into my chair OH GOD WHY, I HAVE NO FUTURE, I HAVE NO FUTURE, I AM SHIT, I HAVE NO FUTURE WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.

But now I’ve mellowed out.  I was even in a good mood yesterday afternoon – that’s rare.  I’m looking at TAFE, Open University, non-award pathways into degrees, even the late round of offers that comes in soon.  I’ve got some nice savings if I don’t get in, and if I just get a different job, maybe things won’t seem so bad.  After all, a few years ago I decided I was probably never going to be able to get a degree and just gave into accepting it, so maybe I can do that again.  My mid-20s crisis will pass soon surely.

So after drinking some proverbial cement, the only thing that bothers me about it is that when they sent me the letter to say why I didn’t get an offer, the reason is "insufficient qualifications".  The ATAR cut-offs for the courses I wanted were between 75 and 78.  My 2001 UAI translates to an ATAR of 90.80 or something like that.  Sure, with that ranking I’m not going to get into law, accounting, or medicine, but Arts/Science?  Even just Arts/Dip Ed?  Not even just plain straight Arts?   If I can’t get into Arts, what can I do?  I’m a little confused.  I emailed them to ask them whether it was my marks from my unfinished B Sc that did it.  If it is, I’m going to be so pissed off at myself for ever attempting that stupid degree.  Forensic chemistry – what was I thinking?  You know what forensic chemists do?  Most of their work is on drugs.  Most of the career opportunities would be helping the police with the war on drugs.  Oh wow, my favourite people, my favourite war.  Perhaps dropping out of that shit was the smartest thing I’ve ever done, in a long history of stupid decisions.  I also asked them to advise me on what I can do to improve my "qualifications", because surely fucking up one degree doesn’t make me untouchable for all eternity, yet what am I meant to do about it?  Go back in a time machine?  If I had a time machine, I would not need to go to university.    I realise griping about this makes me sound like a sore loser, so I emailed them rather than ring them.  I just always have to know why, even after I’ve calmed down and stopped caring so much.

I definitely need to get out of this job.  I don’t even have a proper desk anymore because they’re running out of room.  I’m sick of defending the ineptness of this company and I’m sick of dealing with inept people.  I want a data entry job.  All I want is 8 hours a day of me, a database, and some music.  It won’t happen, but I can dream.