I parked my little blue Miata outside of a massive house with plentiful gardens, in a no parking zone. I was running in to pick up my entire family so that I could head out to Australia.
In a spacious room with dark wood floors was a giant orange art piece, flagged by two brown leather chairs. The work extended out into a shrine-like formation and was almost luminescent. It wanted to draw me in and when I saw it I shrieked with delight, putting my arms out like I was about to hug it.
Beyond the room my mom and I found a secret door with a tiny flight of stairs leading to an entire unknown space. I wanted to explore the rest of the art so badly, but had to battle myself into leaving to ensure the car wasn't towed and that I didn't miss my flight.
The last piece I saw existed in smaller entrance/exit room. It was a mirror, cut into segments, suspended with string over another mirror cut in a similar way. The two faced each other like a four-poster bed suspended in space, creating a fractal of distortion. Whoever came up with this concept was a genius. I wished it were my idea, and wanted to use the concept in my next instillation of a migraine, mirrors would be the ideal thing to represent the visual cortex's inability to piece reality together.
...
When I was showering and remembered a few pieces of dreams, I was delighted to realize that the mirror idea was actually mine. I was less delighted to realize I was sick. I made some miso, toast and an egg, and my flat mate invited me to come sit in the sun where girls were tanning in bikinis.
I realized I had forgotten the bike tour, had missed it by several hours, and was heartily disappointed. This actually made me glad I was sick, because I probably wouldn't have been up for it anyway.
I had no desire to become tan or drink margaritas, so I went to my room to study neuroscience, start a painting, and blow my nose.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Friday, July 29, 2011
The Ranch
Wednesday night is a wasted night on campus. My flatmates, or at least the three of us that weren't expressly invited anyplace, creeped around 39 and 57 before landing up at 39, where we were welcomed warmly, and played the following game:
A fun time was had by all, and we didn't want to stop, but we had to go to "The Ranch" for "Hump Day." My new and slightly less new Aussie pals and I piled into a tiny shuttle, sitting on one another's laps and singing songs.
Sandra lost her phone, so those of us who were not wasted (the proportion was probably 3/22) had everyone quiet down and look for it. By the time we got to The Ranch the Nokia was still lost, and I was scolded: "Emily, you have to stop dancing for one fucking moment, we have to find my phone!" - Someone else cheered: "Never stop dancing!" I chose the latter.
I was a sucker and paid $4 for a nasty cocktail, on Candice's request. I learned last time to wear ear plugs when around Candice and dance floors, and was not sorry about having learned my lesson. The two of us like to be the first ones on the dinky platform stages that abound, and it seems like everyone else likes to spill vodka on my left sleeve.
I had had enough fun by 11:00 pm, and was walking out when I saw my new friend Sophie in line for the bar. She invited me to chat outside, and introduced me to her cool looking friend who made eye contact like he knew what I knew, and it was our secret.
As I waited to order a beer I thought about how 5 bucks could buy more than a liter of organic, non-homoginized milk with which to make hot chocolate, and about how I could be studying for the GRE.
It looked like my previously mentioned umbrella-friend was going to buy a beer for me, when Candice cut in line with some sort of golden ticket. I took this as my opportunity and left to wait for the giant shuttle to take me back home.
A fun time was had by all, and we didn't want to stop, but we had to go to "The Ranch" for "Hump Day." My new and slightly less new Aussie pals and I piled into a tiny shuttle, sitting on one another's laps and singing songs.
Sandra lost her phone, so those of us who were not wasted (the proportion was probably 3/22) had everyone quiet down and look for it. By the time we got to The Ranch the Nokia was still lost, and I was scolded: "Emily, you have to stop dancing for one fucking moment, we have to find my phone!" - Someone else cheered: "Never stop dancing!" I chose the latter.
I was a sucker and paid $4 for a nasty cocktail, on Candice's request. I learned last time to wear ear plugs when around Candice and dance floors, and was not sorry about having learned my lesson. The two of us like to be the first ones on the dinky platform stages that abound, and it seems like everyone else likes to spill vodka on my left sleeve.
I had had enough fun by 11:00 pm, and was walking out when I saw my new friend Sophie in line for the bar. She invited me to chat outside, and introduced me to her cool looking friend who made eye contact like he knew what I knew, and it was our secret.
As I waited to order a beer I thought about how 5 bucks could buy more than a liter of organic, non-homoginized milk with which to make hot chocolate, and about how I could be studying for the GRE.
It looked like my previously mentioned umbrella-friend was going to buy a beer for me, when Candice cut in line with some sort of golden ticket. I took this as my opportunity and left to wait for the giant shuttle to take me back home.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Ask Us Anything!
At orientations and informative sessions, people tend to over-guarantee how much they would love to help you. In the past two days, I've heard phrases like: "Just ask the RA/lifeguard/student adviser if you have any questions or concerns about ANYTHING, I mean ANYTHING!" About 7 times.
"Student counseling services, how may I help you?" - "Hi, Can I borrow like, 5 dollars to cover bus fare?"
"Student counseling services, how may I help you?" - "Hi, Can I borrow like, 5 dollars to cover bus fare?"
Monday, July 25, 2011
I Forgot to Take my Camera to This Dream
My family were sitting on our old green couch, which was somewhat revived, we were all going to sleep. I left to sit with Kristen (my BFF), watching the sunset reflect off the lake that the living room melted into. The pink was almost violent in its saturation, demanding that we stare in awe. Kristen pointed out that the way the lake looked like melted chocolate under the energetic sunset was just one angle, and wondered what it looked like from above the clouds or outer space. With a paradoxical mind, as open as space, I wanted to imagine what it would be like with a different type of perception completely unknown to me, or as nothing.
We began flying in a helicopter, during an earthquake. It seemed the shaking worked its way up through the atmosphere and created and odd sensation of gravity. As it turned out, an older man was telling us his story of flight through peril, and that's how we were transported to his memory.
Driving through San Francisco, the city streets became winding highways edged by tall rock walls. Apartment complexes replaced the rocks and mirrored them in structure - tall buildings on either side, where each door was nearly square and could fit a small car. The doors were stacked in varying placement, and each was a different bright color. Looking into a few of the open doors I saw modern design like one sees in the most innovative magazines, I was taken by a stainless steel bunk bed and thought that this is how college dorms should be.
Kristen, Leah and I walked into a green door and were greeted with a party of people that would be my family if we were Swedish. I walked into one the of least crowded areas and met a very pregnant woman with sandy blond hair in a pony tail, a green shirt, and an open face. We shook hands and then she pulled me into one of the biggest hugs I've ever had, picking me up and carrying me around as I thought: "Wow, its nice to be loved by a mom."
We began flying in a helicopter, during an earthquake. It seemed the shaking worked its way up through the atmosphere and created and odd sensation of gravity. As it turned out, an older man was telling us his story of flight through peril, and that's how we were transported to his memory.
Driving through San Francisco, the city streets became winding highways edged by tall rock walls. Apartment complexes replaced the rocks and mirrored them in structure - tall buildings on either side, where each door was nearly square and could fit a small car. The doors were stacked in varying placement, and each was a different bright color. Looking into a few of the open doors I saw modern design like one sees in the most innovative magazines, I was taken by a stainless steel bunk bed and thought that this is how college dorms should be.
Kristen, Leah and I walked into a green door and were greeted with a party of people that would be my family if we were Swedish. I walked into one the of least crowded areas and met a very pregnant woman with sandy blond hair in a pony tail, a green shirt, and an open face. We shook hands and then she pulled me into one of the biggest hugs I've ever had, picking me up and carrying me around as I thought: "Wow, its nice to be loved by a mom."
Goon
Pt 1: Slow Motion Filter
Sometimes I am obstructed from my self-imposed plans by the people around me. Recently, it took the form of Sandra saying she would make fajitas, and wanting me to pitch for ingredients.
I went with her to "Woolworths," (I shop at Woolworths, with my own paper - flavor!). I bought one bell pepper, and it cost $6. I didn't realize that's what $16 a kilogram meant, but bell peppers are called "capsicums" in Australia, which totally makes it worth it.
The grocery store turned into going on Sandra's errands for four hours, and listening to her stories of so-and-so calling her a slut when in fact she is not a slut, and in that way she is rather like Ann Bohlin.
It was a slow motion filter on personal efficiency, but I happily bought a little Peace Lily, a piece of poster board, and some incense to get the nast out of my carpet-cleaner-room. In the end the fajitas were delicious.
Pt 2: Goon
I had made hot chocolate and was heading into the cold to check internet when my flatmates invited me to play doubles at "Water Pong." It was a good three games, and ended up being followed by a party at 57, catty-corner to our apartment.
"Punch" was being ladled out of a bucket by the host of 57, an international relations masters candidate from South Africa who was slightly angry in his benevolence. I kept fighting my way to the ipod and turning down the volume, and ended up djing for a while.
I chatted with some nice Aussies who call the village: "Little America," and mentioned that I'd like to find an apartment in the city and get more integrated into Aussie culture. They said Aussie culture is saying: "Cunt" a lot and paying twice as much for hard liquor.
I've been hearing a lot about: "Goon" and its turns out to be the Aussie word for "Cardboard Wine." The big thing in the village is to walk around with a plastic jug that's half orange juice and half goon. After a while the crowd thinned out and people were wondering where the host had gone. I found him at my house, trying to sell drugs to my roommates.
I closed my door and was brushing my teeth, and Mr. 57 took that as an invitation. "She's flirting with me" he informed my roommates, then he found my marching band jacket and ripped a seam putting it over his massive shoulders. I took it back and when he left, recommended that my roommates not purchase drugs from him. Naturally I would end up being good village-friends with Mr. 57.
A (German?) fellow had also ended up in our flat and was informing Jake that the girl he was with liked him. He impressed us with his knowledge of geography, talked close to the faces of others, and asked the same questions repeatedly. He told me that while he was downstairs making Facebook friends with Matt, that Matt said he loved me and never wanted me to leave. I was touched.
Sometimes I am obstructed from my self-imposed plans by the people around me. Recently, it took the form of Sandra saying she would make fajitas, and wanting me to pitch for ingredients.
I went with her to "Woolworths," (I shop at Woolworths, with my own paper - flavor!). I bought one bell pepper, and it cost $6. I didn't realize that's what $16 a kilogram meant, but bell peppers are called "capsicums" in Australia, which totally makes it worth it.
The grocery store turned into going on Sandra's errands for four hours, and listening to her stories of so-and-so calling her a slut when in fact she is not a slut, and in that way she is rather like Ann Bohlin.
It was a slow motion filter on personal efficiency, but I happily bought a little Peace Lily, a piece of poster board, and some incense to get the nast out of my carpet-cleaner-room. In the end the fajitas were delicious.
Pt 2: Goon
I had made hot chocolate and was heading into the cold to check internet when my flatmates invited me to play doubles at "Water Pong." It was a good three games, and ended up being followed by a party at 57, catty-corner to our apartment.
"Punch" was being ladled out of a bucket by the host of 57, an international relations masters candidate from South Africa who was slightly angry in his benevolence. I kept fighting my way to the ipod and turning down the volume, and ended up djing for a while.
I chatted with some nice Aussies who call the village: "Little America," and mentioned that I'd like to find an apartment in the city and get more integrated into Aussie culture. They said Aussie culture is saying: "Cunt" a lot and paying twice as much for hard liquor.
I've been hearing a lot about: "Goon" and its turns out to be the Aussie word for "Cardboard Wine." The big thing in the village is to walk around with a plastic jug that's half orange juice and half goon. After a while the crowd thinned out and people were wondering where the host had gone. I found him at my house, trying to sell drugs to my roommates.I closed my door and was brushing my teeth, and Mr. 57 took that as an invitation. "She's flirting with me" he informed my roommates, then he found my marching band jacket and ripped a seam putting it over his massive shoulders. I took it back and when he left, recommended that my roommates not purchase drugs from him. Naturally I would end up being good village-friends with Mr. 57.
A (German?) fellow had also ended up in our flat and was informing Jake that the girl he was with liked him. He impressed us with his knowledge of geography, talked close to the faces of others, and asked the same questions repeatedly. He told me that while he was downstairs making Facebook friends with Matt, that Matt said he loved me and never wanted me to leave. I was touched.
Fake Winter
After a night in the City with a heap of American and Australian acquaintances, a conversation with a pair os Swedish/Brittish pirates in a 7/11, and a night-bus back to the Uni with my flatmate who got kicked out of the club, I woke up at 9:00 am. Six hours of sleep is not too bad, but it's just bad enough.
When I called Joanna about the bike tour, she informed me it was next Sunday. I thought I'd better have a productive start to the day and mediated and made breakfast. When I looked to my pre-loaded internet pages to draw more neuro-study-sheets from, I found them blank. So I napped until noon.
When I woke up I was going to be productive again, but then got invited to the city with Liz, Michelle, and Mary-Kate. We were hungry when we arrived so we stopped at a pub just outside the station. I got a VB and some fries for $10 and we all bonded over one thing or another. We were enjoying it there, so we got three pitchers or "jugs" as they're called in Australia, over the course of several hours. I bought the last one, totaling another $10, making the unit cost per beer about $3.33.
Micelle and Liz were invited to a dinner, so we had to get head back by the time we were finished drinking. There was a 27 minute wait for the train, and I wanted to explore a bit. I left my comrades at the station and picked a direction to walk.
I stopped to take an ironic picture, and a 67 year old Czechoslovakian man reversed his path to come talk to me. "Australia is shit." The man proclaimed. "You are taking a picture of Australia: beer bottles where a statue commemorating history should be."
He proceeded to tell me his life story: He has been here 21 years, the beer is not good, he divorced his wife two months ago, just retired his gynecology practice, and used to teach physics. He began a lecture about physics, talked about Einstein and World War II, and how he was always trained to think Americans were the enemy. He conceded that I was "smart person" and not the enemy.
My phone alarm went off and I said I had to catch the train. He thanked me for my time. I often find myself as a therapist on the street.
I thought it might be fake winter, but tonight the real winter smells make me believe what the season is talking about, and not feel so bad about letting the day pass so quickly.
When I called Joanna about the bike tour, she informed me it was next Sunday. I thought I'd better have a productive start to the day and mediated and made breakfast. When I looked to my pre-loaded internet pages to draw more neuro-study-sheets from, I found them blank. So I napped until noon.
When I woke up I was going to be productive again, but then got invited to the city with Liz, Michelle, and Mary-Kate. We were hungry when we arrived so we stopped at a pub just outside the station. I got a VB and some fries for $10 and we all bonded over one thing or another. We were enjoying it there, so we got three pitchers or "jugs" as they're called in Australia, over the course of several hours. I bought the last one, totaling another $10, making the unit cost per beer about $3.33.
Micelle and Liz were invited to a dinner, so we had to get head back by the time we were finished drinking. There was a 27 minute wait for the train, and I wanted to explore a bit. I left my comrades at the station and picked a direction to walk.
I stopped to take an ironic picture, and a 67 year old Czechoslovakian man reversed his path to come talk to me. "Australia is shit." The man proclaimed. "You are taking a picture of Australia: beer bottles where a statue commemorating history should be."
He proceeded to tell me his life story: He has been here 21 years, the beer is not good, he divorced his wife two months ago, just retired his gynecology practice, and used to teach physics. He began a lecture about physics, talked about Einstein and World War II, and how he was always trained to think Americans were the enemy. He conceded that I was "smart person" and not the enemy.
My phone alarm went off and I said I had to catch the train. He thanked me for my time. I often find myself as a therapist on the street.
I thought it might be fake winter, but tonight the real winter smells make me believe what the season is talking about, and not feel so bad about letting the day pass so quickly.
Hot Chocolate and Water Pong
Arriving at my flat after my previous adventures, I was informed we have a new roommate, who is also American. We all groaned. When he met us he also seemed disappointed, and we discovered he is a bio-major baseball-player named Matt. After some time hanging out together I realize he is dry and ironic and I think we'll get along great.
While my flatmates bonded over hotboxing the room next door, I drew pictures of different anatomical regions of the brain, with descriptions of known functions. When I got too cold I decided to wash my backpack in warm water (I spilled thai chili sauce all along the inside) and towel off my sticky headphones and ipod.
The water was so nice I got in too. Because I was so clean and good looking, I decided to run some errands I had been putting off, and walked to the shopping centre where my new bank is to verify my address. I had planned on seeing if I could find a deal on new professional looking shoes, but was overcome by anxiety and had to leave.
When I got back to my I called Noah, (that's my lil' brudder) because I figured he would be awake at my 4 pm, and Santa Fe's 1 am, but his phone was off. It had stopped raining and I still needed to check internet for the day, so I walked to the library. I realized I had forgotten my student Id with my login information, so I started walking back to my flat.
It started raining again. An Aussie boy asked if I was going to the village and if I wanted to walk under his umbrella. I was enjoying our chat, but we got to my flat, so I got my ID and umbrella and walked back to the library to check my 54 Facebook notifications. Noah had written so many funny comments that I disturbed the peace in the library with laughter.
Pt 2
Sandra, a Boston gymnast of Greek descent with ADHD, called on me, and I've been wondering if she's doing all right, having been abandoned by her flatmates, so I invited her to dinner. She showed up at the library and talked a lot about things she had bought as I tried to finish up with the internet.
Sandra questioned why I am not a big theatre person, since I seem so eclectic otherwise. Since this was about the 4th time she's asked, I merely said: "Because I think theatre is dumb." It was barely raining, but we still had umbrellas, so she sang a boisterous rendition of Rihanna's "Umbrella" complete with a musical-theatre vocal affectation, followed by something from Hair. Hair, she says, is an excellent musical. Sandra changed and came back wearing six inch heels and had a computer with dubsetp, and vodka in tow.
I made spaghetti and salad as Sandra showed her friendliness by continually trying to share her vodka with my flatmates, who we already sipping whiskey through party straws. Sandra pointed out that she is a "Vodka girl" and enlightened us on the properties of another favored liquor of hers called "Ouzo." We each had several helpings of dinner, to which she made eating-disorder-esque comments about that disturbed me.
We all went to a party at 69, which is the apartment I was accidentally given a key for on my first day here, and it was packed.There was a Woolworth's shopping cart with a leopard print umbrella outside as decoration. Sandra announced that she is a "vodka girl" to those drinking other beverages, …"vodka and Ouzo, Ouzo is a Greek liquor that's amazing.
" Fellow student Mary Kate motioned to my thermos cup and said: "Nice!" so I offered her a sip of my hot chocolate and she said she was already drunk, I repeated: "would you like a sip of my hot chocolate?" Its a great joke to brink hot chocolate to a party.
Because of new rules set in place by management, drinking games were banned, so people at this party were playing: "Water Pong" which is: "not a drinking game, just sport." This is funny, and also smart, because kids should stay hydrated while drinking. I figured out the rules, and tried a couple of throws in between rounds, but couldn't get any in. Its difficult because the ping pong ball is so light, and the clear plastic cups (not the archetypal red plastic cups you were picturing) are also light.
Next to me Sandra was telling a German guy about how she's a "Vodka girl," I was glad to see she was making friends. I left the party then so I could have a skill-building montage at home, and come back to beat them all with my Water Pong skills. I had it to where I could get about 60% in, right and left handed, and then went to sleep.
While my flatmates bonded over hotboxing the room next door, I drew pictures of different anatomical regions of the brain, with descriptions of known functions. When I got too cold I decided to wash my backpack in warm water (I spilled thai chili sauce all along the inside) and towel off my sticky headphones and ipod.
The water was so nice I got in too. Because I was so clean and good looking, I decided to run some errands I had been putting off, and walked to the shopping centre where my new bank is to verify my address. I had planned on seeing if I could find a deal on new professional looking shoes, but was overcome by anxiety and had to leave.
When I got back to my I called Noah, (that's my lil' brudder) because I figured he would be awake at my 4 pm, and Santa Fe's 1 am, but his phone was off. It had stopped raining and I still needed to check internet for the day, so I walked to the library. I realized I had forgotten my student Id with my login information, so I started walking back to my flat.
It started raining again. An Aussie boy asked if I was going to the village and if I wanted to walk under his umbrella. I was enjoying our chat, but we got to my flat, so I got my ID and umbrella and walked back to the library to check my 54 Facebook notifications. Noah had written so many funny comments that I disturbed the peace in the library with laughter.
Pt 2
Sandra, a Boston gymnast of Greek descent with ADHD, called on me, and I've been wondering if she's doing all right, having been abandoned by her flatmates, so I invited her to dinner. She showed up at the library and talked a lot about things she had bought as I tried to finish up with the internet.
Sandra questioned why I am not a big theatre person, since I seem so eclectic otherwise. Since this was about the 4th time she's asked, I merely said: "Because I think theatre is dumb." It was barely raining, but we still had umbrellas, so she sang a boisterous rendition of Rihanna's "Umbrella" complete with a musical-theatre vocal affectation, followed by something from Hair. Hair, she says, is an excellent musical. Sandra changed and came back wearing six inch heels and had a computer with dubsetp, and vodka in tow.
I made spaghetti and salad as Sandra showed her friendliness by continually trying to share her vodka with my flatmates, who we already sipping whiskey through party straws. Sandra pointed out that she is a "Vodka girl" and enlightened us on the properties of another favored liquor of hers called "Ouzo." We each had several helpings of dinner, to which she made eating-disorder-esque comments about that disturbed me.
We all went to a party at 69, which is the apartment I was accidentally given a key for on my first day here, and it was packed.There was a Woolworth's shopping cart with a leopard print umbrella outside as decoration. Sandra announced that she is a "vodka girl" to those drinking other beverages, …"vodka and Ouzo, Ouzo is a Greek liquor that's amazing.
" Fellow student Mary Kate motioned to my thermos cup and said: "Nice!" so I offered her a sip of my hot chocolate and she said she was already drunk, I repeated: "would you like a sip of my hot chocolate?" Its a great joke to brink hot chocolate to a party.
Because of new rules set in place by management, drinking games were banned, so people at this party were playing: "Water Pong" which is: "not a drinking game, just sport." This is funny, and also smart, because kids should stay hydrated while drinking. I figured out the rules, and tried a couple of throws in between rounds, but couldn't get any in. Its difficult because the ping pong ball is so light, and the clear plastic cups (not the archetypal red plastic cups you were picturing) are also light.
Next to me Sandra was telling a German guy about how she's a "Vodka girl," I was glad to see she was making friends. I left the party then so I could have a skill-building montage at home, and come back to beat them all with my Water Pong skills. I had it to where I could get about 60% in, right and left handed, and then went to sleep.
Water Under a Bridge on a Duck's Back
Jeremy reached the bottom of the "U Curve" (see fig. 1) and wanted to see Harry Potter. When I heard this second hand I said: "Oh, well we should go then," but put no further effort into it. One flatmate (#4), Liz from Boston, announced she would make us pasta, so after I checked internet in the rain I came home expecting a family dinner, but instead no one was home. I made a snack of miso with scallions, shitake mushrooms and chili sauce with buttered toast and watched Australia's Top Chef. which is unlike American reality TV because every contestant is polite and says nice things about their opponents. Then I went to sleep at 10:00 pm.
The next day I spent some walking in the rain, acquiring a student ID, adding money to the ID account, and printing out resumes so I could have a competitive edge in the barista field. By the time we met up with Joanna, our moral support/activities adviser, I looked like I'd been swimming in my pea-coat.
Noticing the state of the students Joanna offered: "I know it seems depressing because there is no one here and its raining heaps, but it will get better." She talked up some of the activities we can chose from this semester, saying she hates worms and is claustrophobic, but will take students on a tour of caves with glowworms and reckons it will be awesome.
We have bonded in the past so she referenced me having good style and DJ skills, and how I'm her "Indie Kid" of the semester. She likes the Knife and comprehends how much I differ from the group. When I first met her she questioned: "Why are you in Australia? Mostly I get big university blokes who want to meet a crocodile dundee" I basically told her it was an arbitrary decision, then wondered if I had made the right choice.
Jeremy approached me after the meeting, asking about how I was going to Sydney just then, so I invited her along. I had figured out a route beforehand, but she thought the bus would be cheaper than the train, so we deliberated over a new route, eating up about a half an hour. Sydney presented us with fantastic architecture and lots of cool friendly people, none of which I took pictures of. We shared her umbrella, found a free shuttle, and got on it right away despite my second guessing the direction it was headed, which turned out to be more like a first guess because we were headed the wrong way.
We made it to the salon I was modeling for eventually with the addition of a new stylish and guileless umbrella. People with cool haircuts served us fine tea and biscuits, one of them stroking my hair to figure out what she would like to do with it.
Afterward we ate at a place called "Sugarcane" which had a modern interior with organic shaped light fixtures on pale gray walls, a tiled counter in different shades of green, and completely stainless steel kitchen (I'm mentioning this because I forgot my camera). I had a thai chili dish with perfectly fried eggplant for $12, which was a good deal considering that you're not supposed to tip in Australia.
Sydney is unlike New York because if you look confused people go out of their way to help you rather than calling you an asshole. Our waiter pulled out his laptop to find the bar we were meeting Jeremy's friends at in spite of a busy restaurant.
Between compulsively asking for directions of every passerby, despite my direction following confidence, Jeremy complained about how she hates Macquaire and wants to transfer to U Sydney, where all the cooler kids who we made friends with went. I sympathized and added comments of: "Yeah."
She is trying to transfer, but Joanna is trying to convince her otherwise, using me as bait. That made me think: "Oh, well maybe I could transfer." The lack of applicable classes at U Syd pails in comparison to how nice it is there, grassy lawns and old-school architecture in the heart of a beautiful city, but then Jeremy mentioned that there's a $2,000 penalty from Butler for leaving the school you enrolled in, plus another couple thousand to enroll at another school late and secure housing. I didn't realize anyone else was disappointed with Macquarie's location or aesthetics, but by the 23rd or so time the point was reiterated I didn't feel that way myself anymore.
Luckily, after Jeremy's friends were found I ran into a few of my U Syd friends, and keeping with a tradition established during orientation, Shane Trujillo gave me 3/4 of the beer he didn't like. I had a nice time chatting with another friend Grant, who is ironically fulfilling his American Studies major requirements while abroad. He likes Fitzgerald's cake-like writing style, while I favor the minimalism of Hemingway.
Around 11:00 pm, when it was really getting fun and my friends were tearing up the dance floor we had to leave to catch the train. Or at least I thought that was the plan, Jeremy followed her friends to another bar. Once we got there and it was too loud I suggested we make sure we catch the train, which we didn't do - we had missed the last one.
Jeremy hailed a cab to take us to Central Station, where apparently there was still one more train. She was on the phone so I paid the $14. I was taking in my surroundings to figure out how to get to platform 16 when Jeremy started running, I figured she knew where we were going and followed her - she didn't know where she was going. We ran back the way we came and I couldn't keep up so we missed the last train at by 3 minutes, and got a cab back to the city. Through all of this I listened to her swearing and saying: "of course" to every obstacle encountered feeling calm and content.
I was happy to be in a new city figuring things out. It could have been a lot worse, someone could have lost a tooth! However, losing a tooth is far from the worst thing that could happen, just ask me! Being a prisoner of war for instance, would heartily suck, and there are things people go through that are much worse than that. Jeremy's desire for flawlessness made me reflect on my own perfectionist tendencies and realize that I have become more accepting. It's all just water under a bridge on a duck's back.
Back at the bar at just after 12:30, the friend I was staying with was having a nice time drinking so I hung around like a sleepy ghost, making friends with an International Relations major from Costa Rica. Everyone was daring me to do a shot, but its about $8 a shot in Aus. In the end I asked the bartender about vegan options and he gave me a shot of Tanqueray with peach and lychee while everyone else had something blue that fizzed. I was about to pay when I realized the bill was settled, and everyone was too drunk to realize I hadn't pitched. Making change is too complicated with big bills, so I accepted the gift unwittingly bestowed upon me.
Shortly after the shots we left, bought some pastries, warned a couple of drunkards that the cops were after them, and went back to the cold dorms. My nice friend gave me her bed even though I should have been the one sleeping on the floor. She took her comforter and pillow and I slept under a sheet and my wet jacket (I don't think I've mentioned this, but there are no heaters in Australian student housing).
I woke up bolt upright at 9:00, realizing I had forgotten about an internship interview at 11:00, thanked my friend, and hurried back to the train station, where trains were running late due to wet weather. I had my flatmate look up the number to call to inform them I would be running late, but it was the wrong number. Then I arrived ten minutes early.
Luckily I was wearing a smart interview outfit, because all I wear these days are button down shirts. It happened to be one of the best interviews I've ever had, and I left feeling high in self confidence. Riding that momentum I found a coffee shop that was hiring, and had a nice cappuccino with a fern pattern, so if I get a job there hopefully I'll learn that trick. The moral of this long winded fable is that its easy to ride momentum, you just have to do it in style.
The next day I spent some walking in the rain, acquiring a student ID, adding money to the ID account, and printing out resumes so I could have a competitive edge in the barista field. By the time we met up with Joanna, our moral support/activities adviser, I looked like I'd been swimming in my pea-coat.
Noticing the state of the students Joanna offered: "I know it seems depressing because there is no one here and its raining heaps, but it will get better." She talked up some of the activities we can chose from this semester, saying she hates worms and is claustrophobic, but will take students on a tour of caves with glowworms and reckons it will be awesome.
We have bonded in the past so she referenced me having good style and DJ skills, and how I'm her "Indie Kid" of the semester. She likes the Knife and comprehends how much I differ from the group. When I first met her she questioned: "Why are you in Australia? Mostly I get big university blokes who want to meet a crocodile dundee" I basically told her it was an arbitrary decision, then wondered if I had made the right choice.
Jeremy approached me after the meeting, asking about how I was going to Sydney just then, so I invited her along. I had figured out a route beforehand, but she thought the bus would be cheaper than the train, so we deliberated over a new route, eating up about a half an hour. Sydney presented us with fantastic architecture and lots of cool friendly people, none of which I took pictures of. We shared her umbrella, found a free shuttle, and got on it right away despite my second guessing the direction it was headed, which turned out to be more like a first guess because we were headed the wrong way.
We made it to the salon I was modeling for eventually with the addition of a new stylish and guileless umbrella. People with cool haircuts served us fine tea and biscuits, one of them stroking my hair to figure out what she would like to do with it.
Afterward we ate at a place called "Sugarcane" which had a modern interior with organic shaped light fixtures on pale gray walls, a tiled counter in different shades of green, and completely stainless steel kitchen (I'm mentioning this because I forgot my camera). I had a thai chili dish with perfectly fried eggplant for $12, which was a good deal considering that you're not supposed to tip in Australia.
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| (An incredibly classy photo of my new umbrella and I ) |
Sydney is unlike New York because if you look confused people go out of their way to help you rather than calling you an asshole. Our waiter pulled out his laptop to find the bar we were meeting Jeremy's friends at in spite of a busy restaurant.
Between compulsively asking for directions of every passerby, despite my direction following confidence, Jeremy complained about how she hates Macquaire and wants to transfer to U Sydney, where all the cooler kids who we made friends with went. I sympathized and added comments of: "Yeah."
She is trying to transfer, but Joanna is trying to convince her otherwise, using me as bait. That made me think: "Oh, well maybe I could transfer." The lack of applicable classes at U Syd pails in comparison to how nice it is there, grassy lawns and old-school architecture in the heart of a beautiful city, but then Jeremy mentioned that there's a $2,000 penalty from Butler for leaving the school you enrolled in, plus another couple thousand to enroll at another school late and secure housing. I didn't realize anyone else was disappointed with Macquarie's location or aesthetics, but by the 23rd or so time the point was reiterated I didn't feel that way myself anymore.
Luckily, after Jeremy's friends were found I ran into a few of my U Syd friends, and keeping with a tradition established during orientation, Shane Trujillo gave me 3/4 of the beer he didn't like. I had a nice time chatting with another friend Grant, who is ironically fulfilling his American Studies major requirements while abroad. He likes Fitzgerald's cake-like writing style, while I favor the minimalism of Hemingway.
Around 11:00 pm, when it was really getting fun and my friends were tearing up the dance floor we had to leave to catch the train. Or at least I thought that was the plan, Jeremy followed her friends to another bar. Once we got there and it was too loud I suggested we make sure we catch the train, which we didn't do - we had missed the last one.
Jeremy hailed a cab to take us to Central Station, where apparently there was still one more train. She was on the phone so I paid the $14. I was taking in my surroundings to figure out how to get to platform 16 when Jeremy started running, I figured she knew where we were going and followed her - she didn't know where she was going. We ran back the way we came and I couldn't keep up so we missed the last train at by 3 minutes, and got a cab back to the city. Through all of this I listened to her swearing and saying: "of course" to every obstacle encountered feeling calm and content.
I was happy to be in a new city figuring things out. It could have been a lot worse, someone could have lost a tooth! However, losing a tooth is far from the worst thing that could happen, just ask me! Being a prisoner of war for instance, would heartily suck, and there are things people go through that are much worse than that. Jeremy's desire for flawlessness made me reflect on my own perfectionist tendencies and realize that I have become more accepting. It's all just water under a bridge on a duck's back.
Back at the bar at just after 12:30, the friend I was staying with was having a nice time drinking so I hung around like a sleepy ghost, making friends with an International Relations major from Costa Rica. Everyone was daring me to do a shot, but its about $8 a shot in Aus. In the end I asked the bartender about vegan options and he gave me a shot of Tanqueray with peach and lychee while everyone else had something blue that fizzed. I was about to pay when I realized the bill was settled, and everyone was too drunk to realize I hadn't pitched. Making change is too complicated with big bills, so I accepted the gift unwittingly bestowed upon me.
Shortly after the shots we left, bought some pastries, warned a couple of drunkards that the cops were after them, and went back to the cold dorms. My nice friend gave me her bed even though I should have been the one sleeping on the floor. She took her comforter and pillow and I slept under a sheet and my wet jacket (I don't think I've mentioned this, but there are no heaters in Australian student housing).
I woke up bolt upright at 9:00, realizing I had forgotten about an internship interview at 11:00, thanked my friend, and hurried back to the train station, where trains were running late due to wet weather. I had my flatmate look up the number to call to inform them I would be running late, but it was the wrong number. Then I arrived ten minutes early.
Luckily I was wearing a smart interview outfit, because all I wear these days are button down shirts. It happened to be one of the best interviews I've ever had, and I left feeling high in self confidence. Riding that momentum I found a coffee shop that was hiring, and had a nice cappuccino with a fern pattern, so if I get a job there hopefully I'll learn that trick. The moral of this long winded fable is that its easy to ride momentum, you just have to do it in style.
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When you go to a foreign country you start a blog. Here are highlight pictures of orientation, which was jam-packed with fun activities and mediocre dining. In overview: If its not tea time its tea time, I was the only one who liked Vegemite, and Australia is known for its crazy flora and fauna (as my lil' brudder puts it: "Wolfs? Oh yeah, we have that in Australia, except they are as big as cars and shoot darts from their mouths").
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| Lady meets her spirit animal. |
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| Add caption |
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