Any way the wind blows

The rumours are true, I have turned 25 today. More on that later.

You know what I'm really looking forward to? On Wednesday (my first day back at work - after my second consecutive four day weekend) at lunch I will walk down to the pub and buy myself a slushie. A lime one, an extra large one. It's gonna be hot and I have not had one in years. Literally. Years! My problem is compounded by the fact that only one place in this city sells them. I remember years ago, there was a place right near my house that sold them (this particular type of slushie) but they sold out and they got rid of the machine. Then there was a place in the mall that sold up shop and disappeared. Now it's only available in this pub in the city - though they do usually put vodka in, but I like mine straight up thank you!

It's a good feeling to have such a craving for a simple pleasure that has been denied to you for so long, but then finally getting it.

Ahh yes, I did mention in my last post that I would mention something about the objectification of women, but I will now get to that in a later post.

Now, on to less optimistic news. As mentioned above, today was my 25th birthday. I'm not a materialistic person, but I have to say, gifts such as shirts, suits, trousers, wallets, or any other type of clothing or accessory is NOT FUCKING APPRECIATED. I have clothes. I work 5 days a week. I wear my suits there. Then on the weekend I will just wear my night clothes. If I need to go anywhere, I have plenty of casual clothes. My parents bought me a suit, trousers and a shit load of shirts and ties. This is horrific. This is stuff I can only wear to work. I figured (and have been told by superiors) that work is just a means to enjoy the stuff you want to do outside of work!

As I'm sure I've mentioned before, I would much prefer a card with a well written message. I can buy my own shit if I need it, thank you very much. Frivolous material possessions which have had no thought put behind them are not appreciated. Then the icing on the cake; I was forced to buy presents for my other relatives who have birthdays in November. There was 200 bucks down the drain on my birthday. Fucking wonderful. I live a frugal lifestyle, and I don't enjoy unwilling deductions to the bank account, especially on my birthday. These fucking birthdays are just getting worse and worse I tell you. No wonder I haven't celebrated them since I was 12.

When I was in Sydney, I realised that I don't like my family. I don't like talking to them, or having them talk to me. It's not good for my mental health. I was just going to work, then on weekends I was just watching movies and playing games. That was the fucking life I tell you. I had a sweet apartment, I was self sufficient. I was in fantastic shape. I got on well with the people who were worth getting along with at work. I didn't need anything else. Now I'm back here to be a glutton for punishment. Just for more pay and less hours. Why the fuck did I come back here??! I know previously I said that I won't live to see another 2 quarter centuries. At this rate, I don't know if I want to make it a few more birthdays!

I don't know if I've ever been depressed. Sad, in despair, despondent, yes. But depressed? Nope, I don't think so.

I hereby pass Resolution #3 (don't ask me what the fuck happened to the first two - I don't think they exist). I will try to get out of here, and I will no longer talk to, or associate with my family. Done and done.

Joaquin out.