G(r)eeks are hot!

And yes, Michelia, I wouldn't mind a whit if that was what my shirt really said.
Just had a raging blow with my mum over laptop models and how to pronounce 'Fujitsu', and of course it was probably a result of something else. I really, really, really hate computers. And webcams are the weirdest of Internet windows - I cannot imagine squinting into the screen at the shadowy, hunched-over figures of my family, going, "Hi, hello, how are you?" I love my four-wheel suitcase, though, and I could run all over town with it as if it were a pet dog (and it wouldn't even sniff the frocks the way the real ones did in Anthropologie NY).
I wish I were never rude nor condescending, at all, without ever trying not to be. I wish I could be smooth, happy and tactful and improve situations with one sentence. Basically, I wish I were superhuman.
Ha. It would be fine if I could just stop getting into accidents. After wrestling with my contact lens all day Sunday, my eye was still on fire after I took it off at home. It was so bad I basically could not stop crying. So my parents rushed me to the optician, who gasped in horror and said I probably had a corneal ulcer and could go blind, die etc. So we had to go to A&E where we waited for a year (tears still flowing freely, all of us vvvvv scared as hell) . Then we had a young doctor who was both cranky and cocky and laughed at the idea of wearing hard contacts to reduce myopia. He said it was merely an abrasion and there was no infection yet, but if it happened it would be terrible story that could involve sight-loss, and he sounded really happy when he said that. But the drops largely reduced the pain and I stopped bawling only to nearly start afresh in ragged fear. Next day eye was much better and the specialist we went to said all was healing and there was nothing to worry about.
I have way to many close shaves and I don't think I deserve them most of the time. But the thought of going blind made me want to cry more and basically I am an idiot who will never understand hardship. And why I am always told, be overwhelmingly careful.
I talked to Mel about swapping uni jumpers, smiled fixedly at my niece running around a restaurant in fairy wings sticking stickers on every one of my fingers, and laughed uncouth, hysterical laughter over the suckiest of steamboats with Han, Mich and Constance. So why do I have to yell at all?