It's nearly St. Patricks Day, and my room and life are still a mess. I moved in at Christmas, and figured I would have got everything sorted by now.
At the end of last year, I practically walked out my final exam and into a full-time job. I thought the transition from student to full-time worker would be easy. I had five days off at Christmas, and of course, being my usual ridiculously-driven-to-succeed self, I decided it would be a good idea to move into my brother's house over those five days.
We all spent Christmas Day at my brothers house, sitting around the table and getting profoundly drunk on our chosen drinks. If I remember correctly I think I was slightly late to the family lunch because I was madly packing my belongings at my old house to bring over with me. Christmas Eve was the last night I ever slept at the house I had called home through senior high school, and Christmas Day was probably the last time I wasn't "busy" or "working", and one of the last times I've actually spent quality time with my mother.
The five days I thought would last forever disappeared in a heartbeat, as did my mother and her caravan. Suddenly I was working all the time, and saying "I can't" to everyone and everything, all the while watching my mother disappear with her husband and caravan into the distance.
I made a lot of unspoken promises to myself and I don't know that I've kept any of them. I kept vowing that I would take the time to properly move in to my new house and new life; to organise my things and my life, to unpack every box and to really settle into whatever this chapter of my life would be. I foolishly said that I wouldn't let things change, that work wouldn't get in the way of maintaining friendships, and that I would still do the things I'd always done.
Some things are difficult to understand until they are actually lived. My parents always told me that after high school, everything and everyone sort of fell away, and moved away, and that everything changes. I laughed at them, thinking yeah well maybe that happens to some people but not us.
Yeah well It happenned to us.
I think the worst thing is not that my friends are all slowly but surely moving away, changing, or drifting away from my newly workaholic self. The worst thing about this chapter of my life is not that things are changing, but that I feel like I am changing, in ways that I don't want to change. The mask I put on for work seems difficult to take off, and I seem to be pushing everyone and everything else away from me as a standard reflex. I think I've always been a fairly independent person, but now it just feels like I'm stubborn. I nearly got into a relationship at the end of last year, but then ran. I was terrified of being with someone, of opening up to them, if there was a chance that it wasn't right, or that it could end.
I don't know how or when it happenned, but my need to succeed has suddenly sky-rocketed, and driven me to avoid failure like bad coffee. I don't seem to start things - relationships, new friendships, hobbies, random little projects - as much any more if I can see them coming to a probable end.
I guess the great thing about changing is that it happens constantly... so I can always change again? I have this weird motivational phrase I like to tell everyone that has quite the opposite effect, that "you can do pretty much anything, it's just hard". I guess that applies to changing. I have this crazy dream of living and working in Europe in the near future, but it's not really crazy at all. I just need to tough it out through four years of uni and become qualified*, deal with working on the side and sacrificing things so that I can save money for my dream. It's not an impossible dream to fulfill, and it's not just plausible either. It's very possible, it'll just be hard.
I know they say the best things in life are free, but some pretty damn good things require hard work, study, and sacrifice. I will make it to Europe, and maybe (and quite probably) stay longer than I intend. There are just certain things I have to do to get there. Anything's possible, it's just hard. Hard but rewarding.
*I'm planning to study French and Linguistics/Sociology (undecided) at university next year
Sunday, 16 March 2014
Sunday, 9 March 2014
And then everyone left, and I got a job
It has been a fucking long time since I last posted on here. I guess I'd better quickly fill in whoever's unfortunate enough to be reading this on what's been happenning.
November: Well, the HSC finally came to a profoundly anti-climactic end when I finished my last ever high school exam. It had been Society and Culture, I believe. We drove off into the bush immediately afterwards for our much cheaper, earthier version of the notorious schoolies.
November: Well, the HSC finally came to a profoundly anti-climactic end when I finished my last ever high school exam. It had been Society and Culture, I believe. We drove off into the bush immediately afterwards for our much cheaper, earthier version of the notorious schoolies.
Our version of schoolies didn't go for very long. It actually just consisted of camping by a river, drinking, smoking, and swimming. At one point we all journeyed across the river, away from our campsite, for a bit of a wildly unnecessary bush bramble. We left one of the girls behind at the campsite because she was asleep and is one of those people that you just don't wake up. The interesting thing was that this particular friend of ours was terrified of lizards, and exceptionally large goannas had been circling our campsite for most of the morning. We figured leaving a girl who was terrified of lizards alone with a bunch of large lizards was a perfectly dandy idea, because, you know, she was asleep. For some reason, none of us took into account the wild notion that people often wake up after they've been sleeping for a while.
We all eventually returned to the campsite, slightly sun burnt and incredibly exhausted, to find that our friend had mysteriously vanished. We gazed up the hill and discovered that she had not, in fact, completely disappeared. Rather, she had merely teleported herself into her car, a place where she would be physically protected from the goannas that, upon waking up, she had discovered were circlcing the tent.
Somehow, we all convinced the goannas that the three of us were remarkably fearsome and, as such, they should vacate the premisis. Getting our friend to leave her car and return to the campsite - now completely but probably only temporarily devoid of goannas - was a much more difficult task.
Somehow, we all convinced the goannas that the three of us were remarkably fearsome and, as such, they should vacate the premisis. Getting our friend to leave her car and return to the campsite - now completely but probably only temporarily devoid of goannas - was a much more difficult task.
After two nights of camping, I returned home. In the same day, I attended a job interview for a job I would later recieve and officially signed out of high school. Straight out of the exam hall and into the work force. For the next week or so I entertained an old and dear friend who was in the process of moving from Dubbo to Cairns, and decided to visit in the mean time. When we weren't drinking, being emotional, catching up or wandering the streets in a thoroughly existential search for meaning/something to do, I was attending training sessions for the job I would soon begin.
Suddenly, I found myself bidding farewell to my friend at the local airport, crying, next to another crying friend. Before I knew it I had started the job, which was to be a strange cross between Barrista, Till Person, Waiter, and Wholesale Delivery Boy. But for the first month, all I did was help move the entire business from one venue to another. That was quite the induction.
Suddenly, I found myself bidding farewell to my friend at the local airport, crying, next to another crying friend. Before I knew it I had started the job, which was to be a strange cross between Barrista, Till Person, Waiter, and Wholesale Delivery Boy. But for the first month, all I did was help move the entire business from one venue to another. That was quite the induction.
December: My workplace officially opened, and I was introduced to two new friends I would be seeing a lot of in the future; "Overtime" and "Wages".
Christmas came and we all sat out the back of my brother's house. I managed to move my entire life from one house to another in five days. There were gifts and deep conversations about things that happenned before I was born with people I never knew. There was beer, and wine, and pavlova. I managed to move my entire life from one house to another in five days.
The new year came in while I was on the toilet. The Dixie Chicks Greatest Hits played in the background as I heard Lola and her boyfriend shriek about the New Year. I rushed out, washed my hands, and changed the music to "Midnight Radio" - a glorious song from off-broadway musical "Hedwig & The Angry Inch" that I'd always wanted to play at midnight. We drank wine and peppermint tea, played scrabble and nibbled on chocolate before spooning in my double bed.
Christmas came and we all sat out the back of my brother's house. I managed to move my entire life from one house to another in five days. There were gifts and deep conversations about things that happenned before I was born with people I never knew. There was beer, and wine, and pavlova. I managed to move my entire life from one house to another in five days.
The new year came in while I was on the toilet. The Dixie Chicks Greatest Hits played in the background as I heard Lola and her boyfriend shriek about the New Year. I rushed out, washed my hands, and changed the music to "Midnight Radio" - a glorious song from off-broadway musical "Hedwig & The Angry Inch" that I'd always wanted to play at midnight. We drank wine and peppermint tea, played scrabble and nibbled on chocolate before spooning in my double bed.
January: My new years resolution was really just to be healthy. But somehow January ended up as a month of alcoholism, parties, take-away and not sleeping enough. I went to work, saw my friends, got drunk and that was about it.
I was (of course) working when my mum and her husband left town in their caravan to travel around the country. I came home and suddenly realised that I now had to do my own washing and cooking.
Two of my closest friends turned eighteen in January. Both are from New Zealand and neither seemed very fussed about their coming of age. I owe one of them a pub crawl.
February: I'm not sure if anything remarkable happenned in February. I worked, a lot, but decided to start looking after myself at home. I re-entered the kitchen I had evacuated when the HSC hit, and learnt when to add red wine and what works in a quiche. The answers were "always" and "everything".
I ventured to Sydney in late February to celebrate a friend's 18th/go out clubbing/get out of the fucking small town I hadn't left since October. I took myself to Arq and then Bondi, where I snuck into the backpackers and intended to stay until sunrise. It became very freezing very quickly, and so at 5 in the morning I gave up, picked myself up off the grass and caught a bus back to where I was staying.
I spent a lot of that weekend on busses. I snuck a bottle of wine into the East Hills Hotel, caught up with a friend I hadn't seen since school ended at Coogee, and had a few drinks, Thai Food, and a go at the Pokies with my mum at Beverly Hills.
I was (of course) working when my mum and her husband left town in their caravan to travel around the country. I came home and suddenly realised that I now had to do my own washing and cooking.
Two of my closest friends turned eighteen in January. Both are from New Zealand and neither seemed very fussed about their coming of age. I owe one of them a pub crawl.
February: I'm not sure if anything remarkable happenned in February. I worked, a lot, but decided to start looking after myself at home. I re-entered the kitchen I had evacuated when the HSC hit, and learnt when to add red wine and what works in a quiche. The answers were "always" and "everything".
I ventured to Sydney in late February to celebrate a friend's 18th/go out clubbing/get out of the fucking small town I hadn't left since October. I took myself to Arq and then Bondi, where I snuck into the backpackers and intended to stay until sunrise. It became very freezing very quickly, and so at 5 in the morning I gave up, picked myself up off the grass and caught a bus back to where I was staying.
I spent a lot of that weekend on busses. I snuck a bottle of wine into the East Hills Hotel, caught up with a friend I hadn't seen since school ended at Coogee, and had a few drinks, Thai Food, and a go at the Pokies with my mum at Beverly Hills.
I sat at the airport terminal for two hours until my plane finally arrived at 7am on a Monday morning. I read Frankie for an hour, then we were there. I got off, went home, showered, ironed my uniform and headed to work.
And that about sums things up. I'm no longer a student, or a child. Working to pay my own way, rent and bills is thrilling and terrifying. At the moment I'm a bit under the weather, and for the first time, am really missing mummy.
Saturday, 19 October 2013
Birth of a teenager
Well shit. It' 12:26 in the afternoon and I just woke up.
I was sortof hoping this day wouldn't come. When I was small, I used to look on in disgust at my brother's teenage lifestyle. The drinking, the going out, the incredibly odd food choices and the lingering smell. More than anything I think what repulsed me was the hours he kept. He would go to bed sometime after two - in the morning! - and arise sometime after lunch the next day. For some reason, this was completely unacceptable to my pious ten year old self.
The smell is something I remember vividly. He, and all his things, and all his friends had this vivid smell. It was the smell of apathy. The smell of frequently going unwashed for days at a time. The smell of mess, of disorder, of chaos. The smell of freedom.
When my brother moved out and stopped being a teenager, I never thought I'd come into contact with the smell again.
Today, I woke up around lunch time after going to sleep sometime after two. And I realised...
I now have my own smell.
It's official. I'm a dirty, rotten, teenage dirtbag. Most people enter this phase some time in their early teens, perhaps thirteen or fifteen. But of course of entered it after my eighteenth birthday. I'm somewhat renowned for being late. Late to catch onto trends, late to class, late to get togethers that I organise....
Most of the bands I've recently gotten into were in the height of their fame a few decades ago. Bear in mind that I wasn't even alive a few decades ago.
I'm not sure what it is that makes me so late all the time. Perhaps it's the fact that I generally take too long to do anything. Or maybe the fact that in over eighteen years I still haven't quite grasped the art of time management.
Generally, I catch onto trends after they've gone full circle. They've been discovered, shared, and then disowned by hipsters as "too mainstream", and then disappeared into the abyss of obscurity. After about a decade, they are nostalgically revived, and after another twenty to fifty years they're back in fashion as "vintage" or "retro".
It's usually sometime after the trend has disappeared into the abyss of obscurity that I finally jump on the bandwagon. In fact, more often than not the trend may have been through two or more revivals and again disappeared into obscurity, before I jump onto the bandwagon.
It's safe to say that I'm late when it comes to jumping on bandwagons. I'm late for busses too. Somehow I never miss long distance trains or planes though.
I was sortof hoping this day wouldn't come. When I was small, I used to look on in disgust at my brother's teenage lifestyle. The drinking, the going out, the incredibly odd food choices and the lingering smell. More than anything I think what repulsed me was the hours he kept. He would go to bed sometime after two - in the morning! - and arise sometime after lunch the next day. For some reason, this was completely unacceptable to my pious ten year old self.
The smell is something I remember vividly. He, and all his things, and all his friends had this vivid smell. It was the smell of apathy. The smell of frequently going unwashed for days at a time. The smell of mess, of disorder, of chaos. The smell of freedom.
When my brother moved out and stopped being a teenager, I never thought I'd come into contact with the smell again.
Today, I woke up around lunch time after going to sleep sometime after two. And I realised...
I now have my own smell.
It's official. I'm a dirty, rotten, teenage dirtbag. Most people enter this phase some time in their early teens, perhaps thirteen or fifteen. But of course of entered it after my eighteenth birthday. I'm somewhat renowned for being late. Late to catch onto trends, late to class, late to get togethers that I organise....
Most of the bands I've recently gotten into were in the height of their fame a few decades ago. Bear in mind that I wasn't even alive a few decades ago.
I'm not sure what it is that makes me so late all the time. Perhaps it's the fact that I generally take too long to do anything. Or maybe the fact that in over eighteen years I still haven't quite grasped the art of time management.
Generally, I catch onto trends after they've gone full circle. They've been discovered, shared, and then disowned by hipsters as "too mainstream", and then disappeared into the abyss of obscurity. After about a decade, they are nostalgically revived, and after another twenty to fifty years they're back in fashion as "vintage" or "retro".
It's usually sometime after the trend has disappeared into the abyss of obscurity that I finally jump on the bandwagon. In fact, more often than not the trend may have been through two or more revivals and again disappeared into obscurity, before I jump onto the bandwagon.
It's safe to say that I'm late when it comes to jumping on bandwagons. I'm late for busses too. Somehow I never miss long distance trains or planes though.
Friday, 13 September 2013
La Vie Boheme
Okay so it's been quite a while since I last posted on here. Nine months. I could have had a baby. I didn't. I don't have a womb. Or a girlfriend. Not that I want either.
Anyway, hello! I'm back. An awful lot has happenned over the past nine months and I don't really know where to start. I suppose the beginning?
At some point in the year I had a boyfriend. That all started and ended pretty quickly, actually. I probably shouldn't talk about it too much. He seemed sweet. But alas, that chapter has closed.
In about May I started getting involved in the local theatre. After ushering for a few shows, I heard auditions were being held for another show, "All Shook Up". At the time I was as shy as anything and didn't want to even go to the audition, let alone be in a musical. I was almost certain I couldn't sing, couldn't dance, wasn't the world's greatest actor and certainly didn't want to sing, dance and act in front of anyone I didn't have to. But I went to the audition. I did it. I'm pretty sure I turned up an hour late, even though the audition was held walking distance from my house. I'm always late to things. The epitomy of this would have to have been the time I held a barbacue down at the local beach's foreshores, and turned up 40 minutes late. I was the host. It was my barbacue. Yet I turned up 40 minutes late.
Right, the audition. So I went there and sat there shaking until the Director asked me to sing something for her. The only song I'd prepared was an excerpt of "We three Kings of Orient Are". Everyone was really shocked at how deep my voice was and didn't seem to mind that I'd sung a Christmas Carol in the middle of may.
I got into the show somehow as a member of the ensemble. I kept telling myself that I would have to let them all know that I had to leave the show as the pressure of the HSC was too strong. But I never got around to it, and along came opening night. I was running so high on adrenaline I didn't even have the chance to feel nervous or scared. Between when I auditioned for the show and the show's afterparty, I came to several epiphanies.
Anyone who knows me would be very, very sick of hearing about my "existential crises" or "sudden epiphanies". But I'm going to assume you, whoever you are, have perchanced to visit this blog for reasons dark and unknown, and as such don't mind me blabbing on.
Rehearsals started in May after the cast had been put together. I was shy and terrified of everyone and everything. My hair was auburn, and I had a boyfriend. By the time the show ended, all of that was gone. On opening night, we were all slapping each other's arses and undressing in front of each other backstage. And my hair, well, I'd dyed it black because I was sick of having to keep up the dying process. And the boyfriend, well, he was gone. It was good, in retrospect, that we parted ways. Even though I didn't really like him, I'd forced myself to believe that I did. And somehow it still hurt when it all ended. I guess being rejected isn't nice, regardless of who did the rejecting.
He might have rejected me, and other friends might have walked out or faded away from my life, but in the theatre I found sanctuary. I became eerily close to my theatre family over those few months. At one point I performed a less than sober striptease to some of the girls in the cast to Cher's "Welcome to Burlesque".
Anyway, the theatre became my home. I spent more time with the cast and crew than I did with my own friends and family, which felt like a bad thing. But then I came to the realisation that the theatre is what I love. I love performance. I love it.
It's been very difficult for me not to drop out of year twelve to become a full time vagabond. When I found out that auditions for "RENT" the musical are taking place somewhere in Sydney in October I sent off a flurry of excited emails. But then reality struck, and I realised I wouldn't be able to afford constant trips to and from Sydney, and shouldn't be traversing acrossing the country between HSC exams. And I decided I should stay here in my hometown for the rest of the year as it is my last year living here, and some people I might not see again.
Fuck, I'm going to miss everyone and everything about this town. Well, that's a lie. We have our fair share of bogans here, and much less than our fair share of excitement. But I have met the most beautiful people living here, and made connections I don't want to lose. People here have touched me on a deep level and I'm actually terrified and distraught at the thought of losing this connection. Although we all vow to stay in touch, I know that in reality only a few of us will, and the rest are doomed to drift off into the "I used to know" category.
I am truly going to miss this place. This beautiful town full of gorgeous people. It was where I grew up. It was where I first found myself. I learnt to walk, talk, sing, dance, drive and thrive here. I learnt how to be a person, how to be a friend, how to be a lover and how to embrace everything life offers with both arms. It was here that I had my first kiss, my first love. It was in this town that I discovered who I am. I discovered that I might be anybody, or somebody, and that I wasn't just nobody. I learnt to persevere, to try my hardest and to never give up. I learnt when to stop, when to let go, and when to walk away. And I know that moving to Sydney next year is something I just have to do. But I will forever hold this town and it's people close to my heart.
Anyway, hello! I'm back. An awful lot has happenned over the past nine months and I don't really know where to start. I suppose the beginning?
At some point in the year I had a boyfriend. That all started and ended pretty quickly, actually. I probably shouldn't talk about it too much. He seemed sweet. But alas, that chapter has closed.
In about May I started getting involved in the local theatre. After ushering for a few shows, I heard auditions were being held for another show, "All Shook Up". At the time I was as shy as anything and didn't want to even go to the audition, let alone be in a musical. I was almost certain I couldn't sing, couldn't dance, wasn't the world's greatest actor and certainly didn't want to sing, dance and act in front of anyone I didn't have to. But I went to the audition. I did it. I'm pretty sure I turned up an hour late, even though the audition was held walking distance from my house. I'm always late to things. The epitomy of this would have to have been the time I held a barbacue down at the local beach's foreshores, and turned up 40 minutes late. I was the host. It was my barbacue. Yet I turned up 40 minutes late.
Right, the audition. So I went there and sat there shaking until the Director asked me to sing something for her. The only song I'd prepared was an excerpt of "We three Kings of Orient Are". Everyone was really shocked at how deep my voice was and didn't seem to mind that I'd sung a Christmas Carol in the middle of may.
I got into the show somehow as a member of the ensemble. I kept telling myself that I would have to let them all know that I had to leave the show as the pressure of the HSC was too strong. But I never got around to it, and along came opening night. I was running so high on adrenaline I didn't even have the chance to feel nervous or scared. Between when I auditioned for the show and the show's afterparty, I came to several epiphanies.
Anyone who knows me would be very, very sick of hearing about my "existential crises" or "sudden epiphanies". But I'm going to assume you, whoever you are, have perchanced to visit this blog for reasons dark and unknown, and as such don't mind me blabbing on.
Rehearsals started in May after the cast had been put together. I was shy and terrified of everyone and everything. My hair was auburn, and I had a boyfriend. By the time the show ended, all of that was gone. On opening night, we were all slapping each other's arses and undressing in front of each other backstage. And my hair, well, I'd dyed it black because I was sick of having to keep up the dying process. And the boyfriend, well, he was gone. It was good, in retrospect, that we parted ways. Even though I didn't really like him, I'd forced myself to believe that I did. And somehow it still hurt when it all ended. I guess being rejected isn't nice, regardless of who did the rejecting.
He might have rejected me, and other friends might have walked out or faded away from my life, but in the theatre I found sanctuary. I became eerily close to my theatre family over those few months. At one point I performed a less than sober striptease to some of the girls in the cast to Cher's "Welcome to Burlesque".
Anyway, the theatre became my home. I spent more time with the cast and crew than I did with my own friends and family, which felt like a bad thing. But then I came to the realisation that the theatre is what I love. I love performance. I love it.
It's been very difficult for me not to drop out of year twelve to become a full time vagabond. When I found out that auditions for "RENT" the musical are taking place somewhere in Sydney in October I sent off a flurry of excited emails. But then reality struck, and I realised I wouldn't be able to afford constant trips to and from Sydney, and shouldn't be traversing acrossing the country between HSC exams. And I decided I should stay here in my hometown for the rest of the year as it is my last year living here, and some people I might not see again.
Fuck, I'm going to miss everyone and everything about this town. Well, that's a lie. We have our fair share of bogans here, and much less than our fair share of excitement. But I have met the most beautiful people living here, and made connections I don't want to lose. People here have touched me on a deep level and I'm actually terrified and distraught at the thought of losing this connection. Although we all vow to stay in touch, I know that in reality only a few of us will, and the rest are doomed to drift off into the "I used to know" category.
I am truly going to miss this place. This beautiful town full of gorgeous people. It was where I grew up. It was where I first found myself. I learnt to walk, talk, sing, dance, drive and thrive here. I learnt how to be a person, how to be a friend, how to be a lover and how to embrace everything life offers with both arms. It was here that I had my first kiss, my first love. It was in this town that I discovered who I am. I discovered that I might be anybody, or somebody, and that I wasn't just nobody. I learnt to persevere, to try my hardest and to never give up. I learnt when to stop, when to let go, and when to walk away. And I know that moving to Sydney next year is something I just have to do. But I will forever hold this town and it's people close to my heart.
Friday, 4 January 2013
So, it's next year. I'm sure a lot of people have made resolutions. I'm sure a lot of people have looked back at the previous year and given themselves a pat on their back for their achievements.
Let's have a look at what I got up to last year.
I spent most of January wandering around, confused. I'd go from the beach to a friend's house back to the beach again and occassionally back to mine. I would always wear Jeans when my friends dragged me to the beach, to avoid having to swim. This never worked, however, and at one point I was picked up bridal style and thrown into the water. I was not happy.
Sadly, I lost my grandmother in February. I won't make any jokes here because she was a woman who lived and breathed love, the epitamy of sweetness. I remember to this day a comment she made on all the pills she had to take. "I just give myself a shake and all the pills go in where they're meant to go" she'd say, making light of anything she was given. I miss her and regret not getting to know her as well as I could have.
On Valentines Day, I was single. And life was depressing. I wore a singlet over a shirt that day. I think it was that Valentines Day that one of my friends bought me a stuffed toy bear holding a love heart. There was nothing romantic between us, she was just lovely.
I woke up on St Patrick's Day at a friend's house, and slowly headed home with Nell. The next morning, we woke up and made Green Pancakes & Milkshakes to celebrate St Patrick's Day a day late.
In April I think I went to Dubbo. My old dear friend Brodie moved there two years ago and I rarely get to see him. It was lovely. He showed me a terrifying manga animation while I was there, after which I proceeded to scream and jump on top of him. We also went shopping with his now-ex-girlfriend. I learnt all about Dubbo, what life was like for them in Dubbo, and about how a friend of theirs had contracted Herpes. I haven't seen either of them since.
Honestly, my winter was quite a blur. I went to parties and at one point made out with someone, but other than that I don't remember doing much. Other than being depressed. It was in July that I became interested in Sarah Blasko.
In the September holidays, I went on a school trip to Vietnam. It was absolutely astounding. None of us wanted to leave Halong Bay. It was a truly gorgeous place, unlike anything I'd seen before. We went canoeing at one point and saw the most adorable monkeys in existence. The only one in our group that had brought a camera dropped it in the water, so we decided to stay and closely observe the social structure of the monkey's society. They had a habit of jumping out of trees and falling down several atmospheres but remaining fine nonetheless. Much like the way that the Vietnamese had a habit of driving recklessly but managing to avoid nearly all collisions. I honestly think less accidents occur on Vietnamese roads than Australian roads, despite our strict road rules and their lack thereof. Or perhaps they just don't make a fuss when accidents occur. That sounds like a very Vietnamese thing to do.
At some point I became avidly interested in baking. I don't know when or why, but somehow it became a hobby of mine. The number of cookies I made last year is terrifying. I once baked over 100, with mum's help, to sell at a CoastOut stall. They sold really well, but after that, I never wanted to see another cookie again.
I also got into riding to school. I think this was 83% due to the fact that I'd lost my bus pass and I couldn't be bothered putting up with the crap bus drivers gave me when I got on. Sure, having to pay to catch a school bus bothered me, but what bothered me more was how rudely I was treated by the bus company. There is no need for such derision when someone who is clearly a student and has clearly caught the bus almost every day for a year lacks a bus pass. I don't even know why bus passes are necessary. If I'm going from my home to school and back every day, clearly I'm a student. I have never heard of someone pretending to be a student just to hitch a free ride from their house to a school.
In December, I went to see Regina Spektor in Brisbane with my friend Lola. It was beyond words. Her voice she takes me somewhere else. She manages to tell someone else's story so well, again and again. Her songs aren't manufactured to fit a mould - she herself said that something like that each song could fit a different genre. She creates such real characters and real stories, and then puts them into beautiful melodies.
I made a lot of new friends last year. There was a lot of drama, and a lot of good times. A lot of memories you don't expect too, not all of them drunken memories. I have one memory of dancing to Christmas Carols in Brisbane while going mad from the heat.
Let's have a look at what I got up to last year.
I spent most of January wandering around, confused. I'd go from the beach to a friend's house back to the beach again and occassionally back to mine. I would always wear Jeans when my friends dragged me to the beach, to avoid having to swim. This never worked, however, and at one point I was picked up bridal style and thrown into the water. I was not happy.
Sadly, I lost my grandmother in February. I won't make any jokes here because she was a woman who lived and breathed love, the epitamy of sweetness. I remember to this day a comment she made on all the pills she had to take. "I just give myself a shake and all the pills go in where they're meant to go" she'd say, making light of anything she was given. I miss her and regret not getting to know her as well as I could have.
On Valentines Day, I was single. And life was depressing. I wore a singlet over a shirt that day. I think it was that Valentines Day that one of my friends bought me a stuffed toy bear holding a love heart. There was nothing romantic between us, she was just lovely.
I woke up on St Patrick's Day at a friend's house, and slowly headed home with Nell. The next morning, we woke up and made Green Pancakes & Milkshakes to celebrate St Patrick's Day a day late.
In April I think I went to Dubbo. My old dear friend Brodie moved there two years ago and I rarely get to see him. It was lovely. He showed me a terrifying manga animation while I was there, after which I proceeded to scream and jump on top of him. We also went shopping with his now-ex-girlfriend. I learnt all about Dubbo, what life was like for them in Dubbo, and about how a friend of theirs had contracted Herpes. I haven't seen either of them since.
Honestly, my winter was quite a blur. I went to parties and at one point made out with someone, but other than that I don't remember doing much. Other than being depressed. It was in July that I became interested in Sarah Blasko.
In the September holidays, I went on a school trip to Vietnam. It was absolutely astounding. None of us wanted to leave Halong Bay. It was a truly gorgeous place, unlike anything I'd seen before. We went canoeing at one point and saw the most adorable monkeys in existence. The only one in our group that had brought a camera dropped it in the water, so we decided to stay and closely observe the social structure of the monkey's society. They had a habit of jumping out of trees and falling down several atmospheres but remaining fine nonetheless. Much like the way that the Vietnamese had a habit of driving recklessly but managing to avoid nearly all collisions. I honestly think less accidents occur on Vietnamese roads than Australian roads, despite our strict road rules and their lack thereof. Or perhaps they just don't make a fuss when accidents occur. That sounds like a very Vietnamese thing to do.
At some point I became avidly interested in baking. I don't know when or why, but somehow it became a hobby of mine. The number of cookies I made last year is terrifying. I once baked over 100, with mum's help, to sell at a CoastOut stall. They sold really well, but after that, I never wanted to see another cookie again.
I also got into riding to school. I think this was 83% due to the fact that I'd lost my bus pass and I couldn't be bothered putting up with the crap bus drivers gave me when I got on. Sure, having to pay to catch a school bus bothered me, but what bothered me more was how rudely I was treated by the bus company. There is no need for such derision when someone who is clearly a student and has clearly caught the bus almost every day for a year lacks a bus pass. I don't even know why bus passes are necessary. If I'm going from my home to school and back every day, clearly I'm a student. I have never heard of someone pretending to be a student just to hitch a free ride from their house to a school.
In December, I went to see Regina Spektor in Brisbane with my friend Lola. It was beyond words. Her voice she takes me somewhere else. She manages to tell someone else's story so well, again and again. Her songs aren't manufactured to fit a mould - she herself said that something like that each song could fit a different genre. She creates such real characters and real stories, and then puts them into beautiful melodies.
I made a lot of new friends last year. There was a lot of drama, and a lot of good times. A lot of memories you don't expect too, not all of them drunken memories. I have one memory of dancing to Christmas Carols in Brisbane while going mad from the heat.
Brilliant Things
The Band "Shanteya & Jo"
Basically, they're two beautiful souls that come together to make ethereal, organic and poetic music. You can find them here:
https://www.facebook.com/ShanteyaAndJo/info
http://www.triplejunearthed.com/ShanteyaandJo
Pretty Much All Australian Comedians
Denise Scott once described speaking with an Australian accent as going in a "long, flat line"
Judith Lucy once lamented on the absurdity of women's vanity by claiming that one day, she would pick up a magazine and read "now we all no how much men hate lungs"
Kitty Flanagan once told the elderly to "use their old people skills to ward off the gypsies"
They're from Bellingen. Anyone who knows Bello will know what I mean.
They're just so Bellingen.
Basically, they're two beautiful souls that come together to make ethereal, organic and poetic music. You can find them here:
https://www.facebook.com/ShanteyaAndJo/info
http://www.triplejunearthed.com/ShanteyaandJo
Pretty Much All Australian Comedians
Denise Scott once described speaking with an Australian accent as going in a "long, flat line"
Judith Lucy once lamented on the absurdity of women's vanity by claiming that one day, she would pick up a magazine and read "now we all no how much men hate lungs"
Kitty Flanagan once told the elderly to "use their old people skills to ward off the gypsies"
Sunday, 16 December 2012
Underwear Underwear Where Are You
So I haven't written anything for a while here. That tends to happen. I treat this blog just like I treat everything and everyone. That is to say I'll spend obsessive amounts of time with it, and then it won't see me for a long time. My friends know this is how I roll, and it's not necessarily my fault. It probably is. I feel bad for this.
So the other day I sat an exam. In the morning I woke up late, and spent most of the time I had before the test at home, studying frantically. I went into the bathroom soon before it was time to go to have a shower. When I got out of the shower, I realised something. Not only had I forgotten to bring a towel in, but I had as well as this ceased to remember the need for underwear. So I stared at my black business pants and oversized white shirt before grabbing a towel that was not mine and drying, before putting on the shirt, the pants, and no underwear. On the way out, I chucked a pair of underwear in my bag, assuring myself I'd have time to put them on before the exam. But I was very wrong.
By the time I made it to campus, I was late. So I bolted into the room, and sat the entire test without underwear. No one knew. Except the two people I told after the test. And some other people I've told since. And anyone who's reading this.
So the other day I sat an exam. In the morning I woke up late, and spent most of the time I had before the test at home, studying frantically. I went into the bathroom soon before it was time to go to have a shower. When I got out of the shower, I realised something. Not only had I forgotten to bring a towel in, but I had as well as this ceased to remember the need for underwear. So I stared at my black business pants and oversized white shirt before grabbing a towel that was not mine and drying, before putting on the shirt, the pants, and no underwear. On the way out, I chucked a pair of underwear in my bag, assuring myself I'd have time to put them on before the exam. But I was very wrong.
By the time I made it to campus, I was late. So I bolted into the room, and sat the entire test without underwear. No one knew. Except the two people I told after the test. And some other people I've told since. And anyone who's reading this.
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