This past week was without a doubt one of the most event-filled weeks I've had in my life. Hardly a dull moment, I guess. I read Jian's blog today, and stumbled across an abbreviation my one friend has, that he quotes whenever someone is having personal problems. That abbreviation, WWWH, stands for women, wealth, work, and health. This week saw my thoughts pretty much entirely fixated on those four things alone.

Wealth needs no explaining. I'm a student. And as for health, is it worth going there? I'm going to just sort of skim over that topic.

Work is piling up. At least it's not too hard to get a handle on what I've got on my plate right now. I just need to apply myself to what I've got in front of me, and all will go well. I'm focusing a bit better too just lately.

And that brings me to the topic of women. Where to begin?

As I said, I feel like I'm mentally setting myself up for a fall with Tammy (Tamara, for those that didn't make the association), and I even told Rob about this on Friday night. I've actually come to kind of dread being in these kind of situations: the kind where I start feeling something for someone. In the past, the results of my actions whenever I've felt this way haven't exactly been what I would've wanted. At the end of the day, no matter how rock solid we try and be, how invincible we make the facade we put on look, we still tend to be absolutely vulnerable to emotion, and it almost always feels like a concious choice. Go figure.

So, as I said, I feel like I'm setting myself up to fall for Tammy. I went to movies with her, Hara, Lauren, and a few of her friends on Thursday. She invited us all, since her church had been offered tickets to the premiere of The Passion Of The Christ. It seems she doesn't have a boyfriend. At least, you'd have expected him to have been there, if she did have one. So, let's assume there's a long distance relationship. But then, that option was seemingly ruled out on Friday, when I got onto the topic of friendship, and she said how she'd grown apart from her best friend, firstly because they now went to different educational institutions, and secondly, because of her friend having a boyfriend.

Isn't that a subtle way of saying, "No, I don't have a boyfriend, if you were wondering."? It strikes me as that. As I said, she's agreed to go to coffee with me, and I just need to organise the details. So we'll see. We shall see....



I went through to The Doors on Friday. It was a somewhat surreal experience. Since I was feeling a bit miff, I wasn't in the mood to dance, and as a result, I spent a decent amount of time walking around on the roof, and outside. At around 11:30 pm, I wandered through the parking lot, and spotted a feminine figure lying in a somewhat dark corner of the parking lot. Her soft cry for help was barely audible, such that Rob didn't even hear it.

And guess what my response to this was? I merely sarcastically thought to myself, "What a shame....", and carried on walking.

I proceeded a further 3 metres down the road, before I stopped myself. I then asked Rob, "Did you hear that?".
"What?", his replied was.
"That cry for help?", I responded.
"No? What are you talking about?", he said.

And the next thought through my mind was, I quoth verbatim "What the fuck is wrong with me?". I stopped myself, turned around, and went to help her out.

It turns out she was fucked on both alcohol and weed. She was violently puking her lungs out on the pavement. She wasn't in a state to direct us if we were to attempt to take her home, and the guy she'd come with had seemingly just left her to her intoxicated, drugged state. I caught myself thinking that she was lucky I'd stumbled across her, simply because if any sicko had come across her, they'd have been able to rape her, she wouldn't have been able to resist, and come time to file a report at the police station, she wouldn't even have been able to identify her assailant.

I guess I'm a caregiver type at heart. It just was somewhat oddly surreal that it took me awhile to stop myself, and go help her out of the puddle of vomit she could have potentially suffocated to death in.

We ended up finding the guy she came with, because she was in a mental state sufficient enough to give us his cell number. He ended up taking her home.

I still can't believe how disinterested I was in helping her at first, though. I think maybe it's to do with some of the pills I've been taking, and I've been taking a fuckload of prescription shit that I've actually resolved to stop taking. I don't need pretty much anything to function adequately as a human being. Either find the problem causing my lack of focus and dizziness, and treat that, or don't treat me at all. If I don't have a problem, I don't want some fucked up prescription drug to treat some obscure symptom.

One question I have to pose to myself though, is, "Was my behaviour because of the drugs, or because of who I'm slowly becoming?". Secondly, should I care that I didn't care about her predicament at first, until I stopped myself, and basically asked myself, "What the fuck?". I think I should, and the fact that I don't care about not having cared originally is kind of disturbing.

I'd like to blame it on the medication.