Insert suitably obtuse and wanky post title here.

Is it just me or is there a totally hot cowboy style guy on the Commonwealth Bank website? He is like a smoother skinned Heath Ledger. I bet you're glad you're reading this aren't you? So I did attempt to leave the house today. Well I left and came back. I waited 30 mins for a bus to come, the whole time it was raining and freezing plus my skirt kept blowing up (I was wearing a skirt on a freezing day because we don't have a washing machine yet, hence I haven't washed my jeans recently. Too much information? Therefore I am totally going to be a typical student who brings her dirty clothes home over the holidays. Ok this bracket has got a little out of control). I took the whole thing as a sign that instead of going to a goodbye bash for a girl from work where I wouldn't know anyone I should come home and put on my ugg boots and watch Angel. I'm pretty pleased with the decision. Of course I'll never know if my soulmate was at that party and I've missed him/her now...

Sorry I keep getting distracted by Angel's brooding gaze, you know how it is.

The other day I was watching the final of Six Feet Under. There's this bit in it where Clare is lying on her bed saying that she has no idea what she wants to do with her life. It occurred to me that I've never really had that feeling. I've always had a couple of plans on the go, sometimes I wasn't sure which plan to go with but I had a plan. I had things that I wanted to do. Sure there are times when I wasn't exactly overjoyed by what I was doing but I've never seriously considered giving up on it... Anyway this is clearly a symptom of my nerdy, feel-good attitude to life. (And why, sadly, even if I had been born a few years later and despite kind of thinking My Chemical romance are ok I could never really be an emo). The concern is that sometime in the future I will have some kind of crisis about the direction of my life.

Speaking of sub-cultures, I feel like I need one. Since becoming the kind of person who buys stuff at opp-shops I have discovered this: while I don't mind the odd hippy clothing item, generally I'm all about the preppy look. I suppose this is because I've always dressed rather conservatively... One of my friend's in 'Nam, who we shall call HK was really into the preppy look. But being from London she was a little better at it and from what I can tell it was very much a statement. The whole Belle and Sebastian twee pop thing? Which we don't really have here... well there are some traces of it in the indie scene. The point of this particular ramble is as follows: I know I'm wearing a Ralph Loren shirt, a knee length skirt, flat shoes and a top that looks like part of a twin-set but I'm doing it ironically.
Ooooooh zombie cops! yay!

Ok my stomach just made a rumble that sounded like thunder so I'm going to eat (a tres exotic meal of rice, tuna, corn and parmesan cheese).

Billion year old carbon

So I'm going to try for a less confessional tone in this entry. But if you feel like complaining about this sudden avalanche of mediocre prose you should be sure to realise that I got an 83 in auto fictions, at Melbourne University no less. It's actually a quite bizarre experience to be able to make that kind of comment after all my years of chip-on-my shoulderness about going to state schools. Of course now I have the double whammy of "I got into Melbourne Uni after going to state school". Having said all this I really only think Melbourne Uni is all that great for comedic effect.

I am thinking of taking up yoga. And I have only been living in Brunswick for one week. I mostly just like the idea. It would also give me a legitimate reason to buy yoga pants. Perhaps it will help shift my extra three kilos? I'm not sure, I have a feeling it is more about aligning chakras and so forth than something as superficial as weight loss. Classes start January 10, we'll have to wait and see if I'm still enthused then.

Other things I plan to do:

Read:
Fear of Flying
The Picture of Dorian Gray
The Beauty Myth
No Logo
Lady Chatterley's Lover
+ all the books on my reading list for my lit subject (which I just tried to access and couldn't, making me feel both annoyed and like a loser)

Watch:
Casablanca
Festival
Sicko

Ok so now I've written a shopping list style entry. Oups.

Tyre tracks across my back

Hello, once again time has passed quite without my permission and it is December. Today at work I listened to some truly awful Christmas carols while on hold (it did impress me that they change the music, or maybe it's Jingle Bells all year round?). I'm not going to talk much about moving stuff because that's pretty boring. The new house is feeling less "new" though which is good. I have been working so much that I haven't really had time to properly get to know it yet. It still smells are little like paint too. But here I am in my large "California Style" bungalow, on the route 55 tram line, Brunswick West. Do you ever stop and wonder how this (by which I mean life) happened?

I continually have these realisations about myself. I realise that's terribly self involved and teenager-ish of me but whatever (plus, I have a blog, this didn't tip you off to the fact you'd be subjected to this behaviour?). Today I was involved in a ridiculous flurry of texting on the way home. When I left work I had 7 messages in my inbox, when I got home? 18. Anyway, one of these conversations was between myself and a friend from uni, who we shall call D. D is really cool, a little bit older than me and we had a lot of classes together. We have done the meeting up for study sessions thing, the getting a beer/coffee thing and the getting quite drunk together thing (after exams). We text, email and occasionally even call. Not regularly or anything but we are in contact. The friendship context is important. So I sent her a quite amusing (I thought) message saying we should get together to commiserate over/celebrate our results. She replied pretty much immediately saying that sounded perfect, that she was working this weekend but did I want to catch up for a drink on Monday? So now, objectively I realise that that message is really very nice and friendly. However when I first got it there was this voice in my head that interpreted it as her saying "I'm clearly way too busy and important to meet up with you". Which makes NO SENSE. I hadn't even suggested we meet up this weekend so she wasn't turning me down. Plus work is a pretty valid reason given she's a waitress who often works weekend shifts. So the question is, what the hell is wrong with me?

It is perhaps worth noting that the voice I heard sound a little like queen of my little group of primary school bullies. I am relatively happy with blaming her for this. Although I'm not convinced that I was bursting with self confidence before that point, I'm pretty sure that's why I got bullied. Plus it's not like I'm a ridiculous puddle of nerves on the floor. I am a relatively functional individual... I do stuff. I just assume that people hate me/are trying to give me the brush off. I suppose it could be worse, I could be great at social stuff and never DO anything. I find those kind of people insufferable. The way my brain works is a mystery (of course it would make life very boring if it wasn't). I'm sure my insane need to plan fits in here somewhere (and if you're reading this, person who I had that conversation with you should really have let me know you're reading this when I saw you).

Okay, this is all so self obsessed I may vomit.
The take home message from this entry is you should download Old Men by Chris T - T. (I think you have to download this podcost to get that track).

Anxious- ness

Hello dear readers. I am having one of those ridiculous mornings before an exam. I felt that I should get up early because... well I don't know, it just seemed the right thing to do. Really though it just means more stress-time because I think I'm past the time when I can really absorb anything. So instead I took pictures of myself a gazed around anxiously. I have given up on both activities now though. Mostly *gazes anxiously around the room*. So yes, life continues. There is very little going on right now that I have any desire to rehash here, but here it is: exchange applications are shite, my mother was here - eeek, I need to get another job, open houses are shite and I'm really not as clever as I once thought. Woe. I have no desire to become one of those depressing blogs though so I shall try for a more sunny tone. Really life is good but I have stuff to do, and after that life will be excellent. It should be noted that there are days when I don't enjoy being a poor student nearly as much as the Secret Life of Us suggested I would. I wonder if we ever completely get to a point where you can actually think "this is exactly what I want to be doing, I don't want to be in Tassie, or Vietnam or... Paris or whatnot". Paris is a big problem, I'd pretty much always prefer to be there, I really should have learnt French, *le sigh*. Parents have this strange ability to reverse any development of their children in about 5 minutes. Seriously. Just so you know: my mother thinks I should cut my hair and can say "it was fine" in a way that suggests it was horrible and all my fault. Sunny! It is in fact sunny here today which is nice, although I'm not sure what to wear to the exam. At the moment i am wearing a dress which actually kind of gives me cleavage. This is very exciting and so unusual that I find it kind of distracting. Whenever I look down I'm like "hah, boobs, that's right".

Me and Jesus Don't Talk Anymore

Warning: medium level atheism and traces of Anderson Cooper.

Having spent time at Borders (yes I am aware, I have no life) I am once again inspired to write some stuff. Feel privileged. Or not, really it’s your choice. So having surveyed the bookstores it seems that atheism is very hip these days. Particularly at the trendy (Fullers-style) bookshop. I think there were about 5 books on it. I’m never quite sure of the attraction of these books. Well I do kind of get the attraction, I did buy The God Delusion. Which I enjoyed parts of, but other parts were ridiculously long winded. I can’t imagine that a person who believes in God would be interested in that kind of book, especially with titles like How Religion Poisons Everything. So you really just end up preaching to the converted surely? How much fun can that be. I also amusingly saw something entitled The Atheist's Bible. Sure initially, I was like, that’s cool . Then I remembered that one of the reasons I’m an atheist is because I don’t need a bible, I don’t really like the whole idea of basing my whole life on one book. So this sent me on a whole Why I’m an Atheist meandering. For me its really important that it’s not just that I’m anti-religion, I mean, I’m not a massive fan. I do think religion causes a lot of problems. Most of the people who I admire who are religious are basically disregarding some fairly large bits of the faith (they are not anti choice bigots who have deep seated issues with sexuality for example), which sure, makes me like them more. But really I kind of think if you’re going to go half way with the religion thing why bother at all. However it really isn’t a negative thing. And it’s not that I don’t believe in anything. I believe in science and I believe in the goodness of humanity. Which really is enough for me. Sure I kind of wish I was Jewish, but that’s basically about having something in common with Jon Stewart and the bagels. Also it’s part of my culture-lust which comes from being a white, middle class girl of Christian origin which is a whole other post.

So I’ve been feeling a little feministing lately. (Luckily I’m female because seriously what do straight guys in my position have to get riled up about?). The way I have been expressing this is through firmly circling the Ms. section when filling out applications for rental properties. I am just that hardcore. You know what really annoys me though? The “Women’s Interest” section of the magazine stand. Seriously, it’s filled with, like, Good Housekeeping. If I was even more hardcore I would fill it with all the other magazines: Rolling Stone, The Economist and also porn. Although that’s a whole other thing because THIS woman doesn’t find b-list 'celebrities' with fake boobs wearing bikinis and shooting coy ‘naughty’ looks all that interesting. I did on the other hand spend quite some time staring at the cover of Anderson Coopers book. I know he’s a serious journalist but he’s also seriously hot.

Life (sadly the real thing doesn't have a soundtrack by The Shins or traces of Zach Braff)

I swear my computer has a mind of its own (1). I was walking home from Borders thinking of all the things I could write. Up the steep bit of Keppel street, across the round about with the grass that even now has turned a pale unhealthy green and crackles under your feet. I had just spent a pleasant hour-ish on Lygon Street, wandering in and out of clothes shops where I couldn’t even afford the singlets. Lots of girls wearing cute sundresses today. It made me think of a really random quote. Something from the Animorphs (there is just so much useless information in my head) that the guy who liked Rachel but who wasn’t Tobias said he liked summer because of the short dresses with flowers and bright colour girls wear. So I was trying to imagine what it would be like to be a guy, checking out girls in their sundresses. I totally get the breasts thing, I mean I don’t really find them attractive, but it’s about size and that’s easy to get. I was focusing more on legs. Guys seem very into legs, and I just don’t understand why. From what I can tell it’s also about size, skinny legs are hot? I think that’s the deal. But I think curvy legs are nicer, aesthetically. I remember complaining to my mum about my legs when I was quite young, maybe 12 or 13, and she said “Don’t complain, people would kill to have legs like you”, which I found oddly fierce. Of course she is my mum and hence has to say things like this plus my legs have changed quite a bit since then anyway. I also don’t get why bums are hot either (2). When it comes to guys I like arms and faces. Anyway in the words of C.J. Cregg “We seem to have wandered of the topic”. So yes, I went to Borders which basically I see as my very own reference library. Disappointingly, last week sometime someone actually bought America (the book) which I had been reading, luckily the “Teacher’s Edition” is still there. So I sat at Gloria Jeans (yay for instore cafes) and drank their not too atrocious coffee (their iced chocolates are really gross) and read the aforementioned book as well as one about Gilmore Girls. I would pretty much never buy a book about a TV show (The Daily Show and The Colbert Report excluded of course(3)) but they make great free!reading. Free!reading being quite acceptable in Borders. Everyone has piles of (unbought) books and magazines on their tables, I think some of them are considering purchases though. So I still haven’t complained about my computer. I came into the house and T was still napping in her room so I went into my room and grabbed my laptop and came onto our veranda bit. We have an old wicker sofa that was a sofa-bed but is missing the mattress bit so when you sit down you fall into a bit of an abyss. So I sat on the sofa-abyss and turned my laptop on. Well I attempted to, of course it decided this was the time to play silly-buggers. One minute it was standing by then it was logging off and then it decided to shut down. It was very annoying because I had all this solid gold blogging material leaking out of my head as I continually pushed the off/on button (admittedly this might not have helped the process). But all is well (4) now. There is residual warmth trapped under the clear corrugated roof and sun light against red brick. I am wiggling my toes in my battered up Birkenstocks - it’s that summery. I am also listening to R.E.M. which is certainly comforting Saturday afternoon music. I’ve been listening to them a lot recently, them and the Hothouse Flowers, because I miss my dad. I’m 20 going on 13, I know. Also there’s nothing like being sick to make you miss your parents. I don’t even like the Hothouse Flowers that much, they have disturbing 80s undercurrents. There is one song of theirs called Gypsy fair which I quite like, it has a sweet line about a “bareback rider with a red head smile” . Anyway, I was supposed to work today but I called in sick. I am feeling a bit better this afternoon though which makes me feel a bit guilty. Oh well. I think I needed (what my friend Jem calls) a mental health day. I have been feeling quite down. Mostly it’s about boring stuff that I wont rehash here. But hopefully things are on the up. I have a lot of uni stuff to do still unfortunately. I have to write two pieces for creative writing. One has to be non fiction. I am having a lot of trouble coming up with something to write about. I was hopeful some blogging might help… nothing yet though. So despite feeling quite a bit better, I still feel… gluggy. I really hate my sinuses, and I think they hate me too. Also my ears keep blocking up. I was complaining about this to T and she said I should put oil in them. I was quite dismissive of this idea which I think she was annoyed by. However, I am not going to be sticking random stuff in my ears. Well that sure sounds like a good line to end on.

1. I will get back to this, I promise.
2. Male readers feel free to challenge my broad generalisations about what turns you on.
3. The difference being that America (the book) is that it is in the Humour section (along with the Chaser books) rather than the TV Show section.
4. Harry Potter 7 epilogue reference ahoy!

Expatriate

Sometimes I reuse teabags
Thin, sweat, tea and toast
Smeared with vegemite
A feast to feed nostalgia

The table was round and plastic
Keys clatter as they land
Legs burn from the stairs
The lift wasn’t working

Stripping off decency
Hot air licks against soggy skin
The sun leaks in under,
Around and through the curtains,

On the street
There are old women
Selling sickly sweet jackfruit,
Separating the flesh with wiry fingers

There are young women
Selling furled cloth,
Kitschy colors, perilously balanced,
Growing out of the dust

There are old men
Fixing punctured bike tyres
With a bowl of dirty water,
Practiced fingers and sad eyes

And I am lying on the bed