I think being religious gives you license to be extremely strange. Which is a shame, as deep down I'd actually quite like to believe there was something out there worth worshipping. I think being an atheist is also unattractive. A large percentage of atheists out there appear to be depressed people who are hygiene-optional alcoholics. Spiritual but not religious, THAT can be attractive... or alternatively, people who are very interested in religions but don't prescribe to a set *sect* to follow. Not to say that there aren't cool religious fanatics out there. Some are very funky. I am also a fan of Richard Dawkins, not only because he washes. The only problem with being religious, as with the case of young 'A', is that people assume that the rest of society is as forgiving as their Dear Lord. Big mistake. I feel like slapping her around the head a few times, or posting a note with a photo of my beaming smile that reads: See this girl? She wants you committed.
For one thing, it gives students an incentive NOT to work. Why work, when you will immediately have your payments cut right down? There really is no point, so instead you learn to adjust to the Centrelink amounts and deal.
I get paid $426 per fortnight. That sounds like a lot, but it really isn't when you discount:
Rent: $120 per f.n
Food: $85ish per f.n
Bills: $30ish per f.n
Travel: $25 per f.n (at least!)
..... and other expenses.
On a month where I need more phone credit and make up/wash products, I am left with practically nothing. Forget clothes, there are none of them. One of the advantages in being in a long term relationship, I guess; we are no longer 'dating' but living together, so the drive to impress has turned a corner. The mystery of being a woman is gone. He sees the various products that make up my concept lying around the house, so there is no 'feminine mystique' when he sees them on me. However there IS the issue of a social life, which struggles exponentially due to the fact that all my friends live in either melbourne or canberra and getting there requires MORE transport costs and MORE money to spend on an outing.
At least movies are free (provided I review). My next review is on some holocaust film that is meant to be really good. I rsvped too late to get the '21' film that starred Kevin Spacey, which means I get the one no one wanted. Seriously, bring on the heart transplant. I just don't have it in me to care any more about the Jews. Only the overly-sensitive and emos (read: sadistic) like to revel in the pain of a war long gone. The rest of us want to acknowledge what happened (this takes one or two films/books, not the SIX or so I have endured), accept the Nazis were monsters and then move on to current issues. Like, the problems brought by Centrelink and the 'nothing to wear' crisis!
This weekend I am MCing at Apollo Bay Music Fest. Plan is to make friends with The Whitlams and Kate Miller-Heidke. We'll see how that goes....
- Location:the back room
- Music:Sad, soppy holocaust film music
Keanu Reeves stars as Tom Ludlow, a veteran policeman with a
reputation for gun fighting and heavy drinking. He takes to the L.A.
streets Lindsay Lohan style, swigging tiny bottles of vodka and
speeding along to angry music in his sleek car. But unlike Li-Lo,
Ludlow is never pulled over. The message here is loud and clear: if
you want unlimited freedom, enter the police force. "Man, how could
you do that? That's a sacred place," one policeman comments, disgusted
at the corpse left without time to flush. Keanu Reeves delivers his
classic 'me-have-gun-and-chip-on-shoulder' stare in response.
While the characters may be one dimensional, there is enough action to
satisfy the audience. It reminds me of the Sega games my sister and I
would play when we were younger. You sit there hoping the avatar will
move from one level to the next without dying, killing everything in
sight and collecting pretty little bottles to give them energy. If
you survive, you will be rewarded. Keanu Reeves is the toughest of a
cast that includes Forest Whitaker, Hugh Laurie, Chris Evans,
Naomie Harris and Jay Mohr. What these actors saw in this script we
will never know. However, if you are simply after a lot of guns,
blood and brooding good looks this film will satisfy.
(2/5)
- Mood:
drained
My editor has sent me a bunch of press releases with the instruction 'make it short'. A sure indication my last review was too long. I've already decided that I am going to like this film, even if it kills me. The book she sent me in the mail ('Girlosophy Travel Guide') sucked royally, so my review was an absolute canning. The book is mine 'for the keeping', unfortunately. Maybe I'll dispatch it as a gift one day? I think my 14yr old cousin might find it enjoyable. Anyway, I don't want her to think me a hard-to-impress biach so I am going to really give this film a chance. Unfortunately, the press releases says 'a story of brotherhood, conspiracy and coppers gone wrong'. Not really my thing. Plus, it stars Keanu Reeve: possibly the worst actor ever to be. Actually Stallone is the worst EVER, but Keanu really comes close.
MEH! This going to be very interesting...
- Mood:
anxious
There was a case in which a REAL stalker was assessed according to how many times he looked at her (isn't it always a her) profile. I couldn't help but wonder HOW they gleaned these figures. As an addict myself, the number of people whose profiles I have checked out (and regularly, too) is epic. I really wouldn't want a court assessing MY stalker potential, considering I probably stalk half the people listed as my friends! Some I even stalk daily. I told Greg about this case and he, god bless his soul, had his own facebook demons. "OMG! Some days I look at X's profile three times a day! How would I explain that? He would think me such a freak!"
I could only sympathise. "It's normal," I told him, "especially where love interests, or ex-love interests, are concerned." As a little girl I used to wish I had a crystal ball to peer into and see what people were doing. It was not unlike the one Ursula had in 'The Little Mermaid', as she would sit back in her murky cave and peer at the unsuspecting Ariel. I used to wonder what I would appear like if someone looked into one and asked to see me. There are times, even today, where I get dressed and think- "bring on the crystal ball biaches, today I look FINE!"
Now we have facebook, through which that image we project cannot be controlled: it depends on the photos you put up, the photos others put up, whether you can spell and whether, most importantly, you are an utter bore. I've looked at profiles and thought to myself "wow, that's mundane. I'm never coming here again." However, there HAVE been people I look at regularly- often when I am cruising around listening to lectures. Facebook is afforded, oh, 13% of my brain... and the remaining thinking portion (60% ish.. ha ha) focuses on the lecture. Seriously though, how could THAT stand in court?! Justice Kirby would say "As a student of the law, you are expected to be a citizen of exemplary character. The issue of you not affording your studies complete attention is enough to sentence you alone. But the related stalking? Unfathomable." (Actually, Kirby J would probably NOT say that... he would be much cooler)
Nonetheless, imagine if freedom of information laws were changed and EVERYONE got access to the 'profile view' information. We all have our demons. How awkward it would be, turning up to a bbq and seeing someone you wish to avoid but knowing full well you HAVE to say hi, because you have looked at their profile 13 times in the last month?! And how fake, the calls of 'oh, what have you been up to?' when they know very well you have seen.
The point of this rant is three-fold:
1) I believe you look at people's profiles because you CAN; they interest you
2) Crystal balls and facebook are very, very unnatural things
3) I am entering facebook rehab, starting tomorrow!
On the last note, I would probably be highly offended if the results produced by MY 'who looks at the profile" study came back very low. Yes, that would make me very angry. We all think we're worth being stalked, don't we?
- Location:Deakin Uni
- Music:Kate Nash
Frances is also really talented. I find creatively gifted people so admirable, but people who do well in the black letter areas (law, medicine) tend to be pretty damn boring. I used to have a hit list of guys that would one day make my resume of life: writer, older man, football player and masseuse. Sadly, I have dated none of those. There have been a couple of older men into me (by that I mean 10yrs plus), but the reality was that dates with them turned me off and freaked me out. The Lolita fantasy is male-specific, I feel. I didn't want to be innocent and, not surprisingly, found old men that were infantile enough to connect with me as an equal to be insufficient. As for the football player idea, I have never met a good one. They tend to be borderline retarded. Who wants to be in a "me tarzan, you jane" relationship? You may as well get a dog!
That said, relationships with older men AND footballers have worked for friends of mine. I guess it depends on the person. If you are mature and functional, it would be much easier to date someone older. Then there isn't the power imbalance. Similarly, some girls can date younger men... but for me, if I were dating one it would be because I wanted a silly little thing to do silly little chores for me and, ultimately, leave their silly little heart on the bench for easy pounding.
Arggggggg study study study focus focus focus
On the way home from uni every house seemed to reek of meat. Potentially steak, potentially human flesh. I remember a girl at Fenner Hall, Milly, whose dishes smelt fantastic-o. One day I asked her the secret, to which she replied- 'onions.' Apparently if you throw onions in there, everyone thinks you're a great cook.
Going with the Milly approach, tonight I cooked onions and mushroom sauce with pasta. Never liked pasta before. I'd much rather eat toast, or potatoes, if carbs are on the menu. We cooked a pretty good potato dish the other day. It's easy, try it:
CC's MAGNIFICENT MASH BALLS
1. Boil 1kg of potatoes. Take off heat, mash with butter, salt n pepper (push it good!)
2. Roll the mash into balls, placing a slice of tomato and two slices of cheese in there
3. Roll the balls in flour, beaten eggs and then breadcrumbs
4. Bake in oven
5. Remove when crispy and serve with sweet chilli sauce
Chris ate 6 of the 8 balls. He LOVED them! I would rate them about what I'd rate Center Stage: 6/10. Like the film, they are something you take in without even thinking. It was on TV last night, reminding me of that delicate teenage period when riding motorbikes with sexy dancers seems a normal activity for 20-somethings. I used to listen to that Mandy Moore song thinking that would be me. Then you grow up, realise the fantasy was a joke and you'd much rather be a Spice Girl... or maybe Xena. Watching it the other night I realised I'm probably OLDER than the Jodie character! How disturbing is that?!
AT least the Center Stage dancers are better than the 'So you think you Can Dance?' ones. That show is getting worse and worse. Today Greg and I yelled at the TV as so-called dancers made speeches, "this is the world of dancing. Our world. Thank you sooo much for enjoying it Australia!" Seriously, losers should not be allowed to make speeches. They WISH they were in a 'world' removed from ours. If they had been, they never would have needed to dance for their lives in the first place!
This post is long and random...hmm. It's my ploy to stay in the airconditioned room, avoiding study (and the smells of meat floating through our bedroom windows). Tonight Chris, Greg and I are camping in our loungeroom with the aircon. Thank god for the aircon!
- Location:Loungeroom
- Mood:
hot - Music:"Wanna be with You" Mandy Moore
- Birth: While I'm normally a bit of a maternal figure (as in I like small creatures; not that I have those sort of massive G-cup boobs that look maternal), I am currently very turned off by birth. Earlier this year Mags and I debated the 'too posh to push' line of reasoning. As a recent sufferer of what Cosmo terms VBD (Victoria Beckham Disorder; this year I will control my world so as to enhance 'volcanic' potential), I have come to accept her stance on the unnatural birth. The word corridor comes to mind... I do not wish to become one of those. Apparently natural is much better for your body though, thanks to Chris' wikipedia search. As a result of this discovery, I have realised that being too posh to push is nothing but a fallacy: you're actually NOT POSH ENOUGH for a number of natural benefits. For one thing, the flaunting of scars is hardly posh. Damn you Posh Spice, screwed us again!
- Children: the concept, not the reality. I was brunching with Niffer yesterday and discussing kids. She pointed out that it would be a marvelous way to side step work commitments for a few years. But the question remains: would you WANT to side step work, in order to step into BABIES? Christ. I was following lawyers around in the Children's Court last Friday and one boy, once a 'pride and joy', stood on a number of assault charges. Seriously, this kid was a worry. He had a face like a block of wood that a blind man had been chipping away at for a number of years. A speed addict, lived in Parkville. (Why couldn't he live in Broady, Narre Warren, Ringwood?!!) Anyway, as a result of meeting this young man, who ultimately received bail, I am now fearful of the prospects of having some small creature that bares resemblance to him. My dealings with the Children's Court will no doubt affect attitude towards children and future baby names. One thing I've noted is that Nathan is a very bad name; if you call your son Nathan, his criminal potential is tripled. Jen has already chosen her baby names, which are Ava and Oliver. No criminal children by those names so far. I think those classic names were a great choice for kids of Jen and Meno, who would have capture the classic concept perfectly. (In the meantime, do you think that it is a coincidence that all the bogans in the world are called Cheryl? Hardly. I think it is a tag placed carefully by bogan parents who know what to expect)
- Engagement: What is WITH all the marrying types you encounter these days? Holy mother of goat, I am disturbed! While I am in a perfectly wonderful, functional relationship- and we HAVE discussed marriage, albeit in a non-committal way- I can honestly think of nothing worse than the aisle treadmill being delivered. The idea of 'forever and ever and ever' is terrifying. I think if I were a more stable person, or more religious, it would be much easier to commit to the idea of seeing the same damn head for every damn day of my existence. You see, it's not that I am a commitment phobe (I have never, and will never, cheat on someone), nor that the head to which I am connected deserved a 'damn' anywhere near it. He's beautiful, I love him, it's just that marriage to me is 'ewwwwwwwwwwww' at the moment. A friend recently told her boyfriend that she WILL marry him, but only if he gets her a ring that cost 3mths of his salary. Good call, I say! Isn't that what it's all about? Finances? The financial argument is the most convincing I've heard about marriage, as good and bad relationships can be marriage based but good finances... well... they often require two salaries.
Anyway, Jen tells me that an ex of mine has recently been contributed to the long list of people engaged. One of Chris' exes is getting married too! I'm so glad that we can just meander along comfortably for a while before anything changes :)
- Mood:
amused
I am living in an ancient looking little cottage, complete with picket fences, in South Geelong. The house has really high ceilings, fireplaces, wooden floors and a lot of huntsman spiders. At first they really bothered me. Now they just kind of do their thing, we do ours. Reincarnation, baby; we won't be killing them, for fears of (already exceptional) potential to reincarnate as a slug. One lives near the toilet and the other lives in Greg's room. Chris tells me that huntsmans (or huntsmen?) don't need a lot of food to live; they have a big feast one day (moths, bugs, smaller spiders... not humans, Chris tells me) and conserve the energy for days to come. This probably explains why the one in Greg's room never moves. Yesterday when I opened the back door while watching Oprah a massive blow fly flew in, and I actually had the thought 'come into our lair, little fly.' It's kind of cool having a natural system of pest control. That said, I am still very wary of the one near the toilet!!
Last night I made a start at some vegie pizzas while Greg sat in the next room watching 'Two and a Half Men'. The cool thing was that we could listen for the sounds of trains tooting as they roared through South Geelong station, knowing that one of them would bring Chris home. It is a really beautiful area. I'm working at one of the corner stores there and I absolutely love it. The family who own the shop call me 'Claire Bear', and at the end of the day the blond little girl, Crystal, sings out "I love you! I love you! I love you!" as I walk down the path. Be still my beating heart: sooo adorable.
In other news, I have worked out what sort of grades I need to get this year to end up with a distinction average- and it's do-able. For the first time in my law degree I'm going to do BOTH the readings AND the lectures!! I may even, wait for it, go and speak to teachers when I have issues. It's my last year studying law, so why the hell not? I'm also really enjoying my Fridays at Victorian Legal Aid. I think studying Law at university isolates you from people and their stories, preferring to focus more on the theoretics. Law should just be about people and their stories, since that appears to be the main focus when providing legal advice.
- Location:g-town
- Mood: optimistic
- Music:britters- 'piece of me'- all we listen to in our house!
Now I'm sitting with Chris in the computer lab lamenting my stupidity. He has finally given up trying to give me hugs, which is something I suppose. For some reason when I feel vulnerable I try to push people away. It is a protective instinct; like a wounded dog, limping, that gets its rage on whenever potential predators approach. Not that Chris is a predator... hmmm, bad allegory. It's probably more like when someone is discussing a sensitive subject- like the passing of a loved one, or their feelings about hopelessness- and what you really want to do is reach out and give them a hug, but you hold back because you can sense that they are trying to be strong and if you were to reach out, well, they would crumble into a thousand pieces. I probably should have said that to Chris, rather than "OMG get off me! UGH!" or whatever it was I said. Instead of looking stoic, I must have looked psycho. Dang it...
The other subject is 'Civil Arbitration and Alternative Dispute Resolution'. How wanky does that sound? It is not as easy as you would think. The lecturer sounds like John Howard, croaking into the microphone and bumbling around circular sentiments. There are no lecture slides. We have a group assignment. The people turned out to be really cool, thank god, but they actually know their stuff. I am the Group Peanut!
For my birthday this year I'm organising a dinner. Not sure who will be in melbs at the time of invite, but we will soon see. I'd be happy with ten accepts, but I'm hoping more like 15-20. Any more than that and it starts getting stressful!! Chris and I also have to get an apartment at some stage. My summer school wraps up on February 7 (last exam)..... woot
Yesterday an obnoxious man with a large bag nearly barreled me down at Flinders St Station. I was left grasping desperately at the xmas foods Shones and I baked, which nearly went face down on the wet cement. "Watch where you're going!" he bellowed, nearly taking out a person as he turned to me. I yelled back my opinion of him. I'm not sure if it was the rain, the stress caused by ebay (computer sent, but don't think she paid), the phone calls from an anxious mags (who was on 'post the computer' duty) or the sugar overload but I was well beyond taking crap.
Christmas, despite its ideas of 'peace on earth' and 'goodwill', is a RIDICUlOUS holiday. I do NOT approve!! At least I get to see Chris again, two days away..... pheeeeew. He can re-centre my chi :)
- Location:highpoint, melbourne
- Music:lithium by nirvana
A friend once told me that people represent needs. When you go to a different place, he told me, you simply look for the need that previously existed in a new person. I was confused. "Do you mean like in Road Trip how they say different postcodes don't count?" His turn to look confused. "You know, like in one state you may have a girlfriend, but when out of that postcode you're a free man looking for a new one?" "Well yeah, but I mean this where friends are concerned." He explained that I was his witty friend, an artistic chick at college was his 'random' one and his Mum represented, to a certain extent, his 'shoulder to cry on'. Therefore, I should not expect to hear from him much when he was on exchange; I would be replaced with someone else, who was just as capable of witty delivery when required.
He said this in a reasonable, rational way that suggested he had thought about it a lot. The fact that he was drunk didn't justify the sentiment. I listened with horror and imagined myself floating in a sea of people, all wearing oversized white cards around our necks that spelt out his need in big black letters. This 'friend' would stand before us on a bridge, fishing out an assortment of 'needs' (not people, note) in order to accomodate his multifarious nature. He would fish those closest to him and the rest of us would be left to drown, since his attachment did not extend to individual faces.
I shared this analogy with him at the time. It must have hit the spot because the next thing I knew he was calling me from work regularly, sending postcards and pledging to come to Victoria for my twenty first. However, I probably should have learnt: this boy was a wanker. I have no'need' for wankers in my life, or at the very least I can quite easily acquire a new one. Let's face it, there are plenty of stkilda fans to go around. More than that, there are young libs. I could fish EITHER out with my big bullshit friend stick, placing them on the bridge alongside me when the need arose. Fortunately this need never arises, and I'd like to think they would be much more comfortable in soggy knickers flailing around than on dry land in my company.
Anyway, the reason for this rant is that I'm starting to realise the bullshit friend title is not gender exclusive. There are female bullshit friends, unfortunately, who treat you like 'BEST FRIEND!' until they disappear to foreign lands. I am fortunate that I have magnificent girlfriends. In the last week alone, my week has featured Shones, Helen, Amo, Frances and conversations with JB. Now THAT is an all star posse. JB pointed out on the phone tonight that quality chicks are depleting, which got me thinking about the breeding of bullshit friends. I'm learning to detect them better, and here is my list:
1. The female of the species delivers a lot of compliments. To EVERYONE.
2. Everyone tends to say 'they are a really nice girl/guy' and yet, when you talk to them, you realise there's A LOT of people they don't like. But do the subjects of their dislike realise this? (NO!) They are too obsessed with ideas of acceptance, popularity and seeming cool to alienate people.
3. They don't take kindly when you reject their plans, or try to say 'no' to them. They believe you should bow down to any ideas they propose, however irrational, and if you fail this test they will treat you coldly until you learn. You cannot hint that you're not keen on their ideas, or bail on them. They will instantly go to EVERYONE else and inform them that you never mentioned your intention to not go, when in reality you mentioned it to deaf ears time and time again.
4. They laugh at EVERYTHING you say, even when it's not funny, as an alternative to the 'compliment-everything' approach. Then they shag your boyfriend (who they only knew through you) two days after you break up. Hoorah, bullshit friend reigns supreme.(That said, the subject of this statement was never a friend. She was never cool enough. I think a whole new category of bullshit applies to her, minus any amicable qualities)
5. Finally, if you move away from them don't expect anything more than a monthly contact, even if they consider you a close friend. The best you will get is a group email.
Ode to the bullshit friend.... may they all find each other, and have a brilliant pool party.
Boring boring boring boring!!
How did I get to final year law again?
I've spent most of summer school adventuring: week in canberra, week living with buddhists, catch up with Melbourne friends and recently catch up with Shones in Healesville. She's SO much fun!!
Yesterday we were sitting in a cafe and token 40-something waitress tried to sell us xmas cupcakes. They were bright red and green, smothered in that buttery sort of icing that tastes about as wrong as it looks. We wanted to substitute a muffin into the cupcake's place in 'cupcake and coffee: $6!' deal. "Why would you want to do that," the waitress argued, "the cupcakes look fantastic. Don't they?" Shones responded that they didn't look good at all. I tried really hard not to laugh. The thing that makes it so funny is that Shona isn't saying it to be a bitch, or even to test the social boundaries; she is just straight from the hip.
Not sure what next week will feature, but the people that it had certainly better involve are Shona, Frances, Helen, Amo, Caz and Tess. One brilliant thing about Chris going away is the space it has left for girl time. I really love girl only time. It was one thing I really loved about being single in Canberra, when JB and Emstar would entertain me for hours at Essen. How necessary is girl time for the female soul, again?
Two hours ago I sent Chris an email to say that next year we have to enforce 'claire with her girls' time (ie. no boyfriends present), and he can have 'chris with his boys' time. The irony is that he doesn't really have a boys posse; he probably has more girl friends than boys. I've never had a boyfriend like that before. It is a bit of a shame because I find boys are far worse at detecting cool girls than girls themselves; boys will be like 'oh, she seems nice' rather than seeing beyond that. There are many subcategories of nice: 'boring but nice', 'nice to your face' (a very dangerous nice), 'seems religious nice' (aka sanitised conversation crowd) and 'nice for a price' (the girl who is nice, but very VERY nice to your boyfriend). Hopefully Chris can leave the female collection to me a bit more in future, and focus more on the male establishment. The ones he has collected so far are really cool (Amro, Guy)... fingers crossed he can continue to provide.
In any case, I am really excited about next year. I feel really grateful for the awesome friends I have, both within Melbs and Canberra, and really proud of my closest girls, terrets and onion-sis. I am the luckiest :)
Straight after exams I hit Canberra to catch up with everyone, or most of everyone. Some people I wanted to see but couldn't be bothered with the 'when's suitable?' crap. Besides, I think it is particularly poor form to spread yourself thin with people you care about in order to accommodate the randoms.
The only BIG catch up I organised, which wasn't so much big as medium-sized (8 or so), featured two dirty bottles of wine to share with Stephy at civic pub. Three people I really like who are outside the immediate posse came, but this turned out to be a baaaaaaaad move because I reached that level of inebriation that should only be shared with those closest. Amongst other things, I apparently wrote off christianity for its stance on chastity. It was a combination of wine, wearing a new frock and having the boyfriend away for two months I think. Suddenly the idea of living without sex for years seemed unbearable. So on and on I ranted, despite the fact that one of our group was a dedicated christian. How embarrassing to be me!
To matter matters worse, I finally revealed what I think of one of their friends: 'I don't understand the concept.' It's true; I don't understand her concept, not that I have made much of an effort to try to understand. She just strikes me as failure to launch. I should never have brought her up! Four hours after a tres glam vomit session, I was up again for the 12hr bus ride home. Arg.... lamenting alcoholism now. Bring on NY resolution.
The day after I got back it was time to MC at Queenscliff Music Festival. This was pretty cool, especially when Gotye played. 'Thanks for your Time' roared out. I wooted and danced like a mad woman. On the last day of the festival I headed to Melbourne for buddhist-living. I'll probably write an article about my experience rather than ranting here, but I will say this: the kadampa arm of the buddhist faith is mad. Completely insane. The sort of insane that suggests there is a long history of inbreeding, and occasional purchase of Avril Lavigne cds. Karma, reincarnation and the idea of 'universal love' are retarded concepts formed by some half-wit living in the hills. That said, Rhiannon and I had a great time!
After summer Chris and I will find an apartment in the city. This is my most full-on relationship ever. Normally 3 months is the used by date, but he is too awesome for me to think of ending it. He's in South Africa at the moment with his Grandparents. I miss him terribly!! I've come to realise that being in a functional relationship can be bad for your 'levels of cool', because rather than being a feminist who is laisser-faire with men, you become this tragic figure who resembles Anne from Persuasion (Austen's worst character). You just wait, knit frocks, play piano and hope they come back for you. Lame. That said, I've never been much of a 'relationship girl', even though I don't fall into the category of 'playgirl' either; I've never done one night stands. Dating is my niche. If Chris and I were to end, I would probably return to where I feel most comfortable: car out front, two beeps and hot heels. How can you NOT like dating?
- Location:Grove
- Music:'Summer in the City' Regina Spektor
This exam period has been SO bad! As if exam periods weren't bad enough, I had to get a sinus infection and some sort of vomiting virus.
I can't wait for the feeling next Thursday at 1pm, knowing that there's no more exams for a lil while. Ahhhh relief. The only interesting thing in my sick little life right now is facebook, which has allowed one of my best mates from back in the day to find me. She moved away in primary school to live in queensland. Her message was really tenative, like: 'I'm not sure if you remember me, but I remember you- and your pet rat!' Sadly, I had to inform her that Bazil was long dead. Man, Bazil was such a cool rat; he had a bright pink nose, and was a fawny colour. He didn't look much like a rat, come to think of it. Instead of scampering along he would hop, holding his sunflower seeds high in the air and bouncing away. An adorable creature! I told Steph that I definitely remembered her, and the dance routines we would perform at her house in the front room while munching down toasted cheesies. How could I forget?
It's sort of like a school reunion, facebook; you see a bunch of people you haven't seen in years, and find yourself 'mmmm' and aaah!' ing at what you find. Steph has done really well with herself, and works at Steve Irwin's Zoo. She studied something intellectual (biochemical science or something?) and a business degree. Still looks the same, but grownup... she's really pretty!
Some of the things she told me about her life were freakishly similar to mine. I'm not quite sure how to respond just yet because, while I want to tell her 'omg, me TOO!!', I'm not sure it's my right to do that. I realise that sounds a bit abstract. Still, now that I'm older I realise that some reticence is a good thing. You should hold other people's laundry close, I've decided, only airing it in three circumstances: 1) it is essential to tell someone, 2) it is funny, and won't affect anyone you care about if you tell.
The problem with me is that I often run into information that falls into category 2). When I bump into the subject of 2), things tend to go haywire. GUESS WHO, DON'T SUE: In Semester 1 last year, for example, someone told me something about two of his best mates having an occasion of 'sharing' one of their girlfriends- and each other. I thought it was funny..... and a bit strange. When I saw one of them approach, the first thing that came out was "So, how was it for you?" He stared at me blankly. No laughter, whatsoever. So I continued, and the final result was really awkward. JB was there and when he left we laughed pretty hard, but my god it took a long time for him to leave and the laughter to begin. hehe. I just felt it needed to be said, before I could ever look at this particular person in the eye and have an open conversation with him again.
Anyway, I'm going to have my first solid meal in days.... and then try and study for my final exam for the year (woooooooot)
- Location:Ocean Grove
I'm not expecting much more than a scrape, really. When it comes down to it, I simply use the right side of my brain a lot more than my left. Even my VCE subjects were artsy fartsy: drama, media, legal, english, literature and history of revolutions. This is partly the reason I went into a law course, come to think of it. You know how things seem more impressive when you don't have them? We'll call this the "I want a Golden Goose, Daddy" complex.
Like the girl in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory who wanted the Golden Goose, I wanted the law degree because it represented something that I never thought I could get. The only problem was that I went into this Arts/Law degree where, instead of channeling both sides of the brain, my overpowering right side whipped my left side and law fell on the wayside. I can tell you about Keats, Austen, Behn, Eliot (oh, Eliot!!) and most of the classics, but when it comes to all of the law subjects that I have, apparently, 'successfully completed' I can tell you very little. International Law: something about a ship floating on water, and each ship being a land with a law. Constitution: we have one, and there's no damn rights in it. Criminal law: don't wear a studded belt, lest you will find yourself prosecuted. It's only now that I'm studying straight law, without the artsy relief (graduated from that in july), that my left side is starting to work its muscle.
The golden goose is in my sights. This semester I am sitting on two HDs and one distinction- but the irony is that my good marks so far are not inspiring me to get HDs in the exam, but rather I am entering the exam room thinking 'bring it bebe, I only need 30% or so to pass this course!!'
- Location:uni
- Mood:
accomplished
I, for one, hate that bus. It turns up late EVERY time. The bus driver and I had words about this once, because I don't appreciate rocking up ten minutes early for a vehicle that leaves ten minutes late. He gave me the 'that's the way the cookie crumbles, sweetheart' line. I told him that may be the case, but from now on I would adjust my schedule and turn up twenty minutes later. (This line struck a nerve, and by now he was talking in a much louder deeper voice that was turning heads) "Loook, you can do WHATEVER you want, but you'll probably miss the bus." "No I won't, since you are late every time." And so began a ridiculous conversation in which he denied my evidence, and I denied his, erm, 'evidence'.
Now, I wouldn't normally care so much, but busstops are something I simply LOATHE. There are teenagers there; smoking teens, kissing teens, 'your-place-or-mine?' slapper teens. Worse than that, there are people that smell like b.o (30 something men, usually) and people that STARE at you. The staring crowd are all ages. Maybe I'm paranoid? Hmmm. It's just feels predatory, like a dog staring you down right before attack.
Last night the bus driver (nemesis) turned up 6 minutes late. Not bad, but it was rainy (deduct two points). I sat two seats from the front and put on Jurassic 5. I started falling asleep somewhere after 'quality control'... and every time he hit a bump (bad driving, mostly) I would awake with a jump, finding myself almost facedown in the bouffant of the tiny asian woman in front of me. When we arrived in the Grove (an hour later) I stepped into a soggy street, wearing my soggy jacket (which by now smelt like a 70yr old woman, rather than 70yr old jacket) and made my soggy socks move me up the hill. When I got home it was all about hot chip butties, so things invariably improved!!
Chris' radio show starts soon. I start mine after exams (November 9). In the meantime, I would like to recognise at this point that Chris is the best boyfriend ever to be. I don't know where he learnt how to treat women (probably from his awesome family?), but I'm definitely sending any sons I have one day to him. All men should learn from Chris!
- Location:Bed
- Mood:
blah - Music:Jurassic 5
Unlike Canberra, Victoria has absolutely no fluff falling from the trees at exam time. It's clear skies and sunny today. I wish there WERE fluff, then I'd have something inspiring me to get into it!
I have four law exams this year. I've NEVER had four law exams in one semester before! It's pretty hard to get into it, especially considering my policy is always 'delay the gratification'. Today I'm telling myself knowledge is gratification. Therefore, this entire semester has been a tribute to my exceptional patience and ability to wait. Ponder. Procrastinate! I probably have around 800 pages of readings to do per week. It is gratification, it shall be fun. I'm typing this alongside my law books, hoping the content slides in by osmosis.
Chris left the Grove today for the city. This means no more gym for five days at least. I went twice last week, thanks to Davo's insistence that I need to get some physical exercise as well. Maybe that's his way of telling me I'm getting fat? My sister Lee returned from Thailand a couple of weeks ago a size zero. They don't have bread there, apparently, and since this is her main source of food intake she lost about 8 kilograms. Personally, the whole starvin marvin concept doesn't inspire me much. I asked what happened to her boobs and she cracked it with me. I think it is the sister's role to be frank. Who else will be? She also has nits at the moment, thanks to some little treasure in her class, but unfortunately I did not detect them. The hairdressers discovered this! "Um, I'm sorry to do this, but you've got nits. You have to leave immediately."
The bad thing about nits is that they go for clean hair. This sucks because one of the things I discovered this year was the unmitigated JOY of washing hair every day. Now I am eyeing my sister with caution and trying to resist the urge to wash my bouffant, ewwwwww.....
Tomorrow night I'm heading to Northcote for a Kate Miller-Heidke gig. It only costs $20 (Chris' treat though, so I'm especially lucky), which is awesome considering she's up for ARIA's this year alongside Missy Higgins. Missy Higgins will take it out, but I really think 'Little Eve' is better than 'On a Clear Night'. It is a quirky combination of Tori Amos and Kate Bush. Anyways.......
On second thought, I don't think Charlotte would ever be one of my friends. She reminds me of the little 'yipyapping' pink-dressed chihuahua (Tinkerbell?) that Paris Hilton carries around; you would never want to say something frightening to it, as it might shrink behind a chair and never come out again. Samantha Jones, on the other hand, is pretty much the fictional equivalent of my friend Shona. They say similar things, treat men as sexual objects and make me giggle something chronic.
My alter-ego would probably be Carrie or Miranda. One thing I really like about Carrie is the way she dresses (hello! who doesn't?) and analyses things that happen. However, I could never relate to her PASSION for shoes- what's so good about them? It's not like you can whack on a tracksuit and some highheels and look 'dressed up'. No one looks at your feet unless they have failed to find anything offensive about the top half. If you pass the test for the top half, it is quite possible that someone will look lower and say 'oh, I like your shoes.' The problem is that my current wardrobe is so ridden with flaws that it's unlikely anyone will look beyond the top half. This is probably why I am more like Miranda, who is too busy with real issues (like, ghosts in her apartment) to look to her feet. Miranda even ends up with a man who reminds me of Chris!
The problem with watching so much S&TC, apart from the fact that study potential is severely diminished, is that I am now wanting to move to New York again. As a little girl New York was always the destination, all I needed was the journey. I'm still not entirely sure what the 'journey' holds. Oh god, that's a seems religious statement if ever I made one! (ewwwww....) Still, exams are not so very far away. The time to become religious is dawning! But what religion? Buddhism got me through last time, but I think that's a little passe..... hmmmm
- Location:Deakin University
- Music:'New York, New York'
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