So ready for the summer break. I'm kinda pumped actually, because DW and I are going away together =) Don't know yet where, or for how long - this is DW we're talking about, so I'm thinking smaller rather than larger, but we are definitely in the affirmative about holiday plans, so yeah. Woot.
Between now and then = uni uni. Actually I'm chilled at the moment, in the eye of the metaphorical uni work storm (think swirls of paper and case names muahahaha). 3 weeks tomorrow, I'll be all done, and my exam (singular!) and legal writing assignment and german bits and pieces will be behind me. 3 weeks aagh! Or 3 weeks yay?
I'm thinking of joining a gym. It's a cheap one, "co-ed" but with a ladies weights room. It looks like a good range of classes and a good atmosphere, from the admittedly paltry amount of time I spent there. I've always resisted the idea of joining a gym because 1) Expense, and I didn't want to risk paying for something I wasn't going to use; 2) I like being outside, and didn't want to substitute walking/jogging outdoors for being on a treadmill; and 3) Time, and I didn't want to risk paying for something I wasn't going to use. But, with el-cheapo gymmo here, I figure the money-wasting is less of a concern. Also, I'm getting a bit bored *ahem lazy* with running, and probably won't have a whole lot more enthusiasm once the weather gets hot. While I like walking, it's better for relaxing than for fitness, and I don't want to spend my peaceful meanders thinking that I should be running.
In fact, I wanted to go for a walk before it got dark but it looks like the time has passed for such activities. It's gorgeous weather at the moment - that little sweet spot of the year where its sunny and breezy and all the colours look so clear. Warm during the day but not yet stinking hot. Fresh in the mornings, all that really pale sun and sparkly dampness at 7 am.
What else is new? My friend thought she had leukemia. Turned out she had tonsillitis! My other friend has uncovered quite a cheery attitude towards life, and enrolled in lessons to learn French. My other friend (that's three friends so far!) recently 'came out' to his mum, who apparently didn't believe him at first. His dad doesn't know yet, and apparently keeps saying to his mum about son's new love interest, "Maybe it's a boy!"
Speaking of gays, I had my hair done by an extremely flamboyant chap the other day. He admitted that he often forgot or didn't hear what people said, because he'd get distracted by hairdryer noise or background music. Indeed, he had to ask me a three time whether I want to get my fringe cut today. Nothing disastrous was done to my hair, but I wasn't hugely impressed. Also, they've refit my usual hair-place and now it's all fancy and uglified! There are too many bright lights and mirrors, and too much space. I hate shopping centre places that redo themselves just to more truly embody shopping-centre-ugly. I may have to seek a new hair venue for the future.
Well, I didn't really have a reason to write, and I believe that fact has become glaringly apparent. But hey, you got three entries in October. Lucky you.
--khere is a bit "av".
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Saturday, October 10, 2009
friday-saturday-doorcodes-and-vodka
Today feels like such a waste. I hate the vague hungovery tiredness that saps all concentration. Or maybe I just hate the fact of my unfinished uni work *sigh*.
Last night was good though. Actually, the actual town part (German pub crawl) was a bit average, but things livened up once everyone was back in room 29. *winks*. While I could have ignored even the most 'suss' bed noises, the whispered commentary coming from my friend down on the double bed was a little harder to block out. Amusingly, it was the other friend on the bottom bunk who eventually mumbled, "Guys, do you mind?" - and she hadn't even tuned into what was being said. Hee hee. I left H and her battered boy (he had to get stitches in his head last night!) in town this morning, and last I heard they were at the movies today. For H's sake I really hope everything keeps going well! Big grins and fingers crossed!
Other noteworthy parts of the evening included:
H arriving at my house dressed for town, with not a single item for the overnight/morning at the hostel. I suggested she might be a little uncomfortable with no toothbrush, change of clothes or shoes other than heels to wear in the morning, and she agreed and we went back to hers to pack a bag. Lovely. Then? Discovered that she'd brought the wrong bag on the bus with her, so instead of sensible toiletries she had her sister's ugg boots and a scarf. Woohoo!
Friend J being there - she and H had a falling-out, I guess you'd call it, in year 12, and last night was really the first time that they hung out properly since then. Happy feelings when H and I were stripping linen off a bed this morning and H was like "I missed her and I didn't even realise."
Meeting new people, friends-of-friends - 2 stand out in my memory. One was this guy who got more annoying by the second. He went to the USA to work as a camp counsellor for 3 months and he brings it up in every conversation, which is fine, whatever, but he had a very grating attitude about travel. You didn't meet anybody in America who was at all decent? That sucks I guess... but... you can't even entertain the thought that some Americans might not fit your stereotype? You've concluded more than one discussion with: "JUST BECAUSE WE SPEAK THE SAME LANGUAGE, DOESN'T MEAN WE'RE THE SAME COUNTRY." Profound, especially with that long-suffering 'seen it all' air that you give it, but it might have had more effect if it related to what we were talking about at all. For someone who loves travelling and experiencing different cultures soooo much, you seem strangely keen to dismiss them. And that orgasmic 'ughhhhhhhhh' you do when talking about Europe is kind of unattractive.
The second was guy who was fun to chat to and cute in a goofy gangly way, who started tagging along with our group. Someone said to me, "I think the only reason he's hanging out with us is because of you," and seconds later, said guy was like "PHOTO TIME!" and posed with a wet kiss on my cheek. Uh, good timing! But, a little too much wetness there buddy! Nice to meet you!
Being another football-group weekend, we had all this extra security which made it kind of annoying to have friends stay at the hostel. Friday morning I'd stood on the couch for extra height and warned the footballers about how there'd be a security guard at the door, so they couldn't bring back any 'friends' they might meet on the town (Wayne piped up with jokes about friends in skirts. Oh Wayne.) Well, guess who almost got turned away for not having a key card: old battered head boy! Guess who had to be summonsed by the security guard to verify whether BHB could enter the hostel: Wayne! Apparently Wayne was all grumpy about my role in the matter, which is surely fair enough, but frankly there's a big neon fuck you hostel sign in my head at the moment and if confronted by Wayne, I may have to start mentioning a few of the matters that I find unsatisfactory, too. I'll spare you a rant about the irritating qualities of some people and incompetence of others at the moment, but, yeah. This weekend I've had a real love-hate relationship with the hostel, more emphasis than usual on the hate. I was glad when Brian didn't accept any money from my friends this morning, quietly pointing out that 'other people' let their friends stay over for free quite a lot. Brian's a keeper.
It's now an acceptable going-to-bed time and I can put the dreary waste of a day to a finish. Although I'm sure I was more sleepy at 2pm, when I could have actually been productive. Man, uni work... *buries head*. I'm so good at making schedules for myself. I can plot a timeline for study like nobody's business. It's just when it comes sticking to these schedules that I struggle. When you're 5 hours or 2 days 'behind' a self-imposed schedule though, what do you do? I know: make a new one, with less work involved! It's a great exam revision technique, worked for PPL last semester! Wait: no it didn't.
--khere is chocolate for breakfast and bare feet in the halls.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
The Boys and Girls Are Not Alone
My frugality streak was broken over the last few days - but, now I have new and super underwear*, a slightly more groomed appearance, some nice summery tops and four (4!) new CDs. I never buy CDs, except, I guess, when I do. I feel that I am special and entitled to illegal free downloads, but apparently my computer firewall doesn't agree. Hence: Ben Folds, The Clash, Sarah Blasko and The Flaming Lips, in real-CD form.
*TMI: Not a big G-string fan. They seem only good for dressing sexy, and who feels sexy when they have an unhygienic strip of material wedged between their ass cheeks? Not me, obviously. But these 'lacy boylegs' are another story. Just so you know.
Between Aldinga, Goolwa and nights spent with DW, this is one of the first evenings I've spent in my own house for a while. Aldinga was good as always - there's a lovely carefree feeling that emanates from the dusty almost-finished shack, and reminds me why it's worth driving down to the coast even if I can only spend one night there. We played drinking games and Wii sports and something called 'Articulate' which my partner and I rocked at. Apparently she had a massive tanty the second night when she couldn't be in a team with her boyfriend, so... kinda glad I missed that. My other good friend has an aunt and uncle who designed and built a fancy place in Goolwa, so over the weekend we spent two nights there as well. Yay for friends with beach houses!
DW has kind of moved out of home for six weeks while house sitting for his Opa, and has said he's not sure how he'll adjust to moving back in with his parents. He's starting to look at buying property which is kind of exciting. If he bought a house, he'd probably have me and one of his friends move in... money matters aside, I'd be quite keen to do that. Even though it seems like the benefits of moving out with him would be somewhat negated by having one of his mates living there too, it seems somehow a better move to do that than to move somewhere just the two of us... a smaller step, maybe? I wonder whether it would generally be better to be part of a couple living with another person, or be the person living with the couple... Anyway, nothing's a reality yet. And let's not delve too far into the hypotheticals - my teaching-overseas mental adventure combined with sugar-pill week left me feeling quite strange and disconnected a few weeks ago. Perhaps appropriately, I've started reading 'The Power of Now'... that whole spiritual deal isn't usually my thing, but I figured I'd give it a chance.
Bah, uni. I've decided to try to stop "multi-tasking", a.k.a. clicking onto facebook every time I get bored or stuck with uni work. Study time will be for study. Fun time will be for fun, not for procrastination-marred-with-guilt. *Nods*. *Sighs*. Gah, I wanted to get so much done in the holidays, and they're ALMOST OVER! Only one more free (as in: assignment) day before I have work, then I'll have Sunday free, and that's it. True, I have had a real break with the beach and all, but it's depressing that that should cost me, when this is supposed to be a semester break after all. Never mind.
Oh, and as for work, let me note for future reference: FOOTY GROUPS ARE DISGUSTING. As if general rowdiness and body odour and slurred leery remarks and spilled drinks and off-set fire alarms aren't enough, they have to go and use the whole world as their personal toilet. Pissing on the roof and off the balcony onto the street, crapping on the bathroom floor and in the urinal and on the balcony - what the fuck is wrong with these people? Ugh! I'm really starting to question my manager's sanity when he cheerfully rattles off a business comparison between our hostel and our former 'sister' hostel - we make the same amount of money putting up the price for louts over three nights as they do for having a cheap long-term weekly rate! Go us! Really? The difference is we have to deal with all that shit on the weekends, no pun intended, pay for a security guard and extra night-watch staff, and probably deter other guests away from our premises, then are dead quiet for the next three or four days and pay for someone to take extended smoke breaks, browse the net or sit on the couch watching TV with the guests. While they, I assume, have fairly steady days and rooms full of international students who presumably don't smash things and vomit and evacuate their bowels on the balcony and compel the police to visit following public complaints. So, yeah dude, you tell me who has the better business plan there.
(Although, I guess I can't lie, I did thoroughly enjoy hearing of the phone exchange between my Chinese co-worker and manager:
CC: There's a shit on the balcony!
M: A what?
CC: A shiit!
M: I didn't see any linen out there?
CC: No! No linen, a shiiiit!
M: Huh? Put it back on the shelf, then!
CC: A shit! Somebody squat and make a shit!
Bahah.
- khere will not be stripping for your entertainment.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Read, see, do
It's the 'coming together of biology and biography' which fascinates him, and its that fusion that he translates so well into books. I'm loving Oliver Sacks at the moment. Recently I finished Seeing Voices, and many times I had the urge to throw the paperback at people, gibbering that they just have to read it, have to know about this or this. I've got a bookmark in Awakenings (one of his most acclaimed, but so far not quite as profoundly interesting as Seeing Voices or The Man Who Mistook His Wife For a Hat) and Musicophilia is sitting on my desk after I picked it up from the library holds desk today. Although I've seen some criticism of his heavily footnoted writing style, it's this which is one of my favourite things about him. His writing and people don't exist in stand-alone little capsules, but are always connected to informational asides, commentary, reflection, counter-theories, a place in time. You get the feeling there could always be more - that he wants to keep going, 'which reminds me!' and 'by the way, another interesting thing about that is -'
On the fiction side of things is Lionel Shriver. I read We Need to Talk About Kevin in greedy gulps. Once I'd finished it, though, I didn't have much desire to dwell on the text itself, although I did immediately jump to read reviews and online discussion. While I didn't find The Post-Birthday World as immediately absorbing, after a few chapters in I started really enjoying it. It was more indulgent than Kevin, I felt, not as meticulously edited, more like Shriver was just enjoying herself writing it. Perhaps because it was so lengthy, by the time I finished I could hardly believe there wasn't any more to read - I had grown quite fond of the characters and read the final chapter twice before eventually setting it aside. I felt like I should be able to google 'where are they now' or something. Oh, and Lawrence? Not completely unlike DW, I have to say.
I've got just two nights left of that chilled first-half-of-the-semester feeling, I think - on Friday I'll have a take-home exam and research assignment, sigh. BUT I have some good news under my belt already... 90 HD for client interview! Was so stoked. Am so stoked - not just the mark, but for what it's for. Yaaay.
What else has been going down? Life has been pretty chilled, with cold rainy nights meaning nobody's been too up for big nights out in town. There was the Royal Show, with plentiful free food and wine - well, the wine wasn't plentiful, but it was free. Leaving town in H's Datsun, squeezed next to a tyre in the back seat. Sustainaball, with op shop clothes and Bollywood dancers and catching up with some less frequently-seen friends. Our friend the 'councillor', a denouncer of all things fair trade won the prize hamper, hahah. There were some nice days out with the girl friends - markets and boat rides at Port Adelaide, seeing the movie 'Adam' in town. I've watched DW and the boys play indoor soccer and get beaten, and had those nice post-game car chats and sweaty-haired kisses.
There are a few things to write about and to ponder that may not be as fluffy and nice, but maybe I'll save that for another day. I like ending on kisses (again).
--khere is a blurry photograph of your favourite night.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Sprouting Instructions Enclosed
There are good group vibes at the moment. Drifting threads of friendship and love and aquaintance suddenly all got tangled up and formed a nice little ring. As in: H is now going out with S, whose a friend of C, and C was a friend of mine whose now quite close to H as well, and S and C have a cool mate called L, who gets along really well with everybody, including DW, and now DW is friends with S and L, and his friends get along with their friends too, and everybody loves each other the end.
Yeah, I could use names, but its funnier this way.
I saw the History Boys play last night, with a friend who got me a ticket for my birthday. Awesomeness! Said friend, a guy we'll give the nifty name of A, is my best book-and-movie discussing pal, and is very highly attuned to awkward social situations. We decided to sit in the very front row, which meant A ended up staring practically right up the nostrils of whichever boy took centre stage. Oh the awkwardness! Where to look? He ended up looking to the man next to him for guidance on theatre etiquette.
Sometimes I imagine an employment position for someone to do the things that I dislike or can't be bothered doing. Let's say shoe shopping, ordering my room, etc. In this idea the position is something like a personal assistant, I guess, like whatever Elaine was for that guy in Seinfeld. Then, in this weird mental loop, I simultaneously think: That would be a fun job! Like imagine researching different brands of makeup so your client wouldn't waste money on crap stuff. Cool fun! Or creating a system of organisation for past uni work - sounds like a decent job! Working out possible Centrelink entitlements - woopee! Then I wonder why I'm thinking how great a job that would be, when that job is in fact my life, and who thinks about the pros of being employed to run their life?
This train of thought has become more rare recently as I move my thoughts away from making appointments and renewing licenses and shopping and the like, and onto things like limits on parliamentary power and situations in which a third party can enforce a contract. Exams exams.
I had a few weird experiences with male attention at the hostel recently. First one was kind of funny, this Aussie guy in town for a 'fresh start' who was completely not my type (and I mean not the type who would normally go for me, too) deciding that I was a 'real top bird' and grinning and winking at me from the other side of reception while repeating that phrase a lot. He asked me if I liked a good 'Chinese or Italian' meal (these were the two cuisines on offer, apparently) and if I would be interested in joining him. When I brought up my boyfriend he was momentarily deterred but then restated his offer with even more zeal, reminding me that I was a real top bird and he'd always thought I was such a catch, etc, and if I ever got sick of my boyfriend then just call him up for a good Chinese or Italian meal, he'd treat me right. Yeah, he'd treat me right all right! Because I was such a top chick, I was really something! Just remember, if I ever get sick of my boyfriend, alright? Eventually he left, after giving me his number on a scrap of paper. I didn't add it to my phone.
The second one was... well. A bit weirder. There's a guy who used to stay there, a ginger-haired Irish electrician who I always had a soft spot for. He's a very genuine guy, doesn't like the nightlife scene or the rraww my car is better than yours male mentality, just wants to have a laugh and a drink and talk shite, or maybe get me to play some Irish ballads on youtube while he reminisces about people singing in pubs back home. I often have interesting conversations with him. Anyway, he was at a loose end the other night and popped into the hostel, and ended up staying at reception, having a few beers and talking with me for a fair while. At one point it was revealed that I was only 20, and that he had imagined me older and somehow felt 'less intimidated' by me now that he knew how old I was. At another point he started talking about how he found me really attractive but couldn't imagine being intimate with me, and why did I think that was?
Well. By intimate he meant 'cuddly'. Like he couldn't imagine holding me, snuggling with me. Eventually he came to the conclusion that it was because he thought I was more educated than him, and it intimidated him, but that it was his own problem. He asked me if I did like cuddling, like not doing anything but just getting a really warm feeling of wellbeing by lying their touching another (yes) and then seemed to feel really bad that he had assumed I was this cold character who wouldn't do that. At this stage it was kind of awkward but interesting. I had my own theories, but he reckoned it was the education-intimidation thing, and his own insecurity.
We had been talking about checking out this bar, and so when I finished work I went there with him. He knew that I had a boyfriend. But once we were in the bar, and talking there, he started getting really... I don't even know the word. Horny, obviously, but there was more to it than that. Lovey dovey. He had gradually decided that he could, indeed, imagine being 'intimate' with me, and was glad about righting his mental state. He stroked my hands, and words like 'pure' and 'beautiful' were thrown around. He praised the way I was so professional and friendly at the desk, gave people my full attention, really talked to them, engaged with them. I reminded him of bartenders in Ireland. With another guy I would have hightailed it out of there a lot faster, but I really liked this fellow, liked his humanness. I was keeping a close eye on his advances, but I didn't want to scorn him because he had dared show appreciation. Perhaps I didn't want to be seen as cold and uptight, as I assumed he had seen me as before?
I wasn't drinking, because I was driving home, and I had warned him beforehand that I wouldn't stay long. It became increasingly apparent that sooner was better than later, though, when he gazed adoringly and leaned in close to kiss me (I moved away, and he ended up kissing my shoulder, proclaiming the shoulder the 'most attractive part of a woman's body'), and also when he started talking about how he would just love to please me during sex, how he would devote 99% of time to me and he would be happy with that, he wouldn't even mind. He fondled my fingers lovingly, my hands being the one part of my body I was happy to let him touch. At this stage I could practically hear DWs indignation in my head, and was slightly uneasy about the possibility of someone seeing us act all couply. Time to go.
We walked, arms hooked together, back to my car. He kept commenting on my brisk walking pace, although with the disclaimer that he liked that in a girl. "What's the hurry?" he asked. I wasn't even walking that fast, just more in a style of 'getting somewhere' rather than 'savouring the stroll'. It's cold? It's night-time, in town? We're in Light Square? I could think of many reasons, and thought with amusement that if I was with DW, he would be walking fast too.
I was saved the awkward decision of whether to give him a lift home when he stopped at the entrance to the lane where I was parked and was like, "ooh, I don't do dark alleyways". Dude, wasn't there a point to you walking me to my car? But I was somewhat relieved to have an excuse to see him off, and made my way to my car alone.
For some reason the whole thing kind of... shook me up a little? I couldn't put my finger on why. The relentless discussion of how I 'came across' to him? (such an ooky topic of mine) Maybe being confronted with the clear opportunity of another guy, did I feel 'restricted' by having a boyfriend? I'm not sure - if anything, DW's existence feels like an anchor, a comfort to me, in those situations - without that tangible line to cross, the 'line' of acceptability would be entirely in my hands, and I don't think I'm good with that. I didn't particularly want to do anything with this guy, but maybe I liked the idea of it? Did I? I didn't even know. But I felt all weirded out, and had to relax by watching a DVD of human dissections once I got home. Mm, science.
- khere is 'logical but extreme'
Yeah, I could use names, but its funnier this way.
I saw the History Boys play last night, with a friend who got me a ticket for my birthday. Awesomeness! Said friend, a guy we'll give the nifty name of A, is my best book-and-movie discussing pal, and is very highly attuned to awkward social situations. We decided to sit in the very front row, which meant A ended up staring practically right up the nostrils of whichever boy took centre stage. Oh the awkwardness! Where to look? He ended up looking to the man next to him for guidance on theatre etiquette.
Sometimes I imagine an employment position for someone to do the things that I dislike or can't be bothered doing. Let's say shoe shopping, ordering my room, etc. In this idea the position is something like a personal assistant, I guess, like whatever Elaine was for that guy in Seinfeld. Then, in this weird mental loop, I simultaneously think: That would be a fun job! Like imagine researching different brands of makeup so your client wouldn't waste money on crap stuff. Cool fun! Or creating a system of organisation for past uni work - sounds like a decent job! Working out possible Centrelink entitlements - woopee! Then I wonder why I'm thinking how great a job that would be, when that job is in fact my life, and who thinks about the pros of being employed to run their life?
This train of thought has become more rare recently as I move my thoughts away from making appointments and renewing licenses and shopping and the like, and onto things like limits on parliamentary power and situations in which a third party can enforce a contract. Exams exams.
I had a few weird experiences with male attention at the hostel recently. First one was kind of funny, this Aussie guy in town for a 'fresh start' who was completely not my type (and I mean not the type who would normally go for me, too) deciding that I was a 'real top bird' and grinning and winking at me from the other side of reception while repeating that phrase a lot. He asked me if I liked a good 'Chinese or Italian' meal (these were the two cuisines on offer, apparently) and if I would be interested in joining him. When I brought up my boyfriend he was momentarily deterred but then restated his offer with even more zeal, reminding me that I was a real top bird and he'd always thought I was such a catch, etc, and if I ever got sick of my boyfriend then just call him up for a good Chinese or Italian meal, he'd treat me right. Yeah, he'd treat me right all right! Because I was such a top chick, I was really something! Just remember, if I ever get sick of my boyfriend, alright? Eventually he left, after giving me his number on a scrap of paper. I didn't add it to my phone.
The second one was... well. A bit weirder. There's a guy who used to stay there, a ginger-haired Irish electrician who I always had a soft spot for. He's a very genuine guy, doesn't like the nightlife scene or the rraww my car is better than yours male mentality, just wants to have a laugh and a drink and talk shite, or maybe get me to play some Irish ballads on youtube while he reminisces about people singing in pubs back home. I often have interesting conversations with him. Anyway, he was at a loose end the other night and popped into the hostel, and ended up staying at reception, having a few beers and talking with me for a fair while. At one point it was revealed that I was only 20, and that he had imagined me older and somehow felt 'less intimidated' by me now that he knew how old I was. At another point he started talking about how he found me really attractive but couldn't imagine being intimate with me, and why did I think that was?
Well. By intimate he meant 'cuddly'. Like he couldn't imagine holding me, snuggling with me. Eventually he came to the conclusion that it was because he thought I was more educated than him, and it intimidated him, but that it was his own problem. He asked me if I did like cuddling, like not doing anything but just getting a really warm feeling of wellbeing by lying their touching another (yes) and then seemed to feel really bad that he had assumed I was this cold character who wouldn't do that. At this stage it was kind of awkward but interesting. I had my own theories, but he reckoned it was the education-intimidation thing, and his own insecurity.
We had been talking about checking out this bar, and so when I finished work I went there with him. He knew that I had a boyfriend. But once we were in the bar, and talking there, he started getting really... I don't even know the word. Horny, obviously, but there was more to it than that. Lovey dovey. He had gradually decided that he could, indeed, imagine being 'intimate' with me, and was glad about righting his mental state. He stroked my hands, and words like 'pure' and 'beautiful' were thrown around. He praised the way I was so professional and friendly at the desk, gave people my full attention, really talked to them, engaged with them. I reminded him of bartenders in Ireland. With another guy I would have hightailed it out of there a lot faster, but I really liked this fellow, liked his humanness. I was keeping a close eye on his advances, but I didn't want to scorn him because he had dared show appreciation. Perhaps I didn't want to be seen as cold and uptight, as I assumed he had seen me as before?
I wasn't drinking, because I was driving home, and I had warned him beforehand that I wouldn't stay long. It became increasingly apparent that sooner was better than later, though, when he gazed adoringly and leaned in close to kiss me (I moved away, and he ended up kissing my shoulder, proclaiming the shoulder the 'most attractive part of a woman's body'), and also when he started talking about how he would just love to please me during sex, how he would devote 99% of time to me and he would be happy with that, he wouldn't even mind. He fondled my fingers lovingly, my hands being the one part of my body I was happy to let him touch. At this stage I could practically hear DWs indignation in my head, and was slightly uneasy about the possibility of someone seeing us act all couply. Time to go.
We walked, arms hooked together, back to my car. He kept commenting on my brisk walking pace, although with the disclaimer that he liked that in a girl. "What's the hurry?" he asked. I wasn't even walking that fast, just more in a style of 'getting somewhere' rather than 'savouring the stroll'. It's cold? It's night-time, in town? We're in Light Square? I could think of many reasons, and thought with amusement that if I was with DW, he would be walking fast too.
I was saved the awkward decision of whether to give him a lift home when he stopped at the entrance to the lane where I was parked and was like, "ooh, I don't do dark alleyways". Dude, wasn't there a point to you walking me to my car? But I was somewhat relieved to have an excuse to see him off, and made my way to my car alone.
For some reason the whole thing kind of... shook me up a little? I couldn't put my finger on why. The relentless discussion of how I 'came across' to him? (such an ooky topic of mine) Maybe being confronted with the clear opportunity of another guy, did I feel 'restricted' by having a boyfriend? I'm not sure - if anything, DW's existence feels like an anchor, a comfort to me, in those situations - without that tangible line to cross, the 'line' of acceptability would be entirely in my hands, and I don't think I'm good with that. I didn't particularly want to do anything with this guy, but maybe I liked the idea of it? Did I? I didn't even know. But I felt all weirded out, and had to relax by watching a DVD of human dissections once I got home. Mm, science.
- khere is 'logical but extreme'
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Stuff and Things
Life has been rather busy lately. I am travelling to a relatively far-away suburb to feed my aunt's cat every day, which on one hand is kind of a pain. But on the other hand it can lead to delicious nights of sex and silliness in a place that isn't within earshot of anybody's family members. That, I think we'll all agree, is a plus.
Kate Miller-Heidke = awesome performer. She played at the Gov on Friday and was grand. My friend and I first ended up in front of these incredibly annoying drunk girls who were almost drowning out the singing with their conversation, and by conversation I mean 'shrieked inane comments interspersed with warbling of incorrect lyrics'. I could ignore them but when my friend politely asked them to keep it down, they responded with the helpful, "IF YOU LIKE HER SO MUCH WHYY DON'T YOU BUY THE CD EY? HUAHUAHUA." Because... we bought gig tickets? As did you? We decided to squeeze our way into another spot, which was much better, except the guy in front of us kept farting. Seriously, these were stinkers. Lucky Kate Miller-Heidke was so engaging that the undesirable crowd members were mere blips on the evening. Her band was pretty hot too.
Then last night I went along to a quiz night, where I believe I was quite unhelpful, especially in matters of geography and sports. Perhaps I redeemed myself by knowing what the word 'nullabor' meant and how many tentacles (?) a squid had, but then again I did convince my team to write that an earthworm had zero hearts, which was... 5 hearts short. DW came along, which made all the difference in the world to my happiness, as I realised I tend to have a rather disproportionate reaction to my requests (for company, etc) being rejected. Seriously. Perhaps it's because I don't tend to ask a lot of people or rely on my friends all that much, and am lacking in practice or experience or something - but if I ask DW something and he says no, not because of inescapable commitments but because he just doesn't want to - it bothers me a lot. Nevermind, it ended well, and both of us amused over how his wilful oblivion to my irritation irks me even further. And then we decided at the last minute to stay at my aunt's house, and had a lovely lovely time with lots of random talking in bed. The end.
Not really. I have more to say. I'm tossing up whether or not to go to another quiz night on Tuesday night, a German club v French club thing. I do desire to be more social within the German club, especially since a girl I know from school is in it and I have, like, a friend to launch off from. (Mel, she's so springy!) On the other hand, I have a meeting on that same night at uni (inaugaral secretary of AUHSSS, yo) so I'll be in town all day, and have to bus it home late etc, and quiz nights are fine but they do tend to drag on... but on the other hand it'd be good to get to know some more people in the club... but on the other hand, I've kind of neglected uni work lately, and I probably should study, you know, sometimes. And if I don't go then I could watch DW's indoor soccer match, which is always a plus. But then again, if I do that then I'm not really studying either. But, it won't actually be long as the quiz night, and they might actually have a chance at winning these week.
Hm. Watch this space.
The majority of Aussies who stay a the hostel are loutish, but the ones who aren't tend to be endlessly interesting. There are three there at the moment:
1. A woman who's with her kids, a 7 year old and a 7 month old. The hostel is not child unfriendly, as such, but it's certainly an adult environment and rather unusual for kids to be staying. For a baby it's probably irrelevant, but for a 7 year old, I dunno - I mean, guests will be going along their business of watching scary movies in the common area, drinking, smoking, swearing, etc, without a second thought to their little companion. What if little Timmy goes onto the balcony and someone's smoking dope? What if he goes for a piddle in the middle of the night and there's a girl and a guy showering together? I'm ambivalent - on one hand (I'm very big on the hands today, aren't I) those potential situations sound bad, on the other hand, the world is an adult environement and on principle, I think giving kid-tailored explanations for adult behaviour is generally preferable to keeping a child in a bubble.
But whatever. The point about this lady is that she seems positively unaware that having children there is unusual, and maybe even inconvenient, for other guests. She doesn't seem to really get the place. Someone will turn off the random documentary playing in the background to put on a DVD and she'll get all offended and like 'excuse me, I was actually WATCHING THAT'. I'll go to grab the rags out of the dryer and come back to hear her bleating at the reception counter, "HELLO. HELLO. HELLO. HELLO." as if I am just hiding under the counter in spite.
Worst, or most amusingly, she does this weird humourless chuckle sometimes which seems to convey something like, 'lord, how embarrassing for you.' Eg. she comes in the back door of reception and demands more linen for her kids, and when I give her some she's like, "Not that one! It's all pilled, like it's about to fall apart." Rather than dispute this I gesture at the piles of quilts and invite her to choose, and her response? "Oh, they're all like that! Ooh - of course, right?" Then she chuckles dementedly as if she's just realised the 'inappropriateness' of her remark, like of course she's totally offended me by alluding to the fact that she's in this common place. Which it is. It's a HOSTEL.
2. The woman who I think may have Aspergers, based on my very unscientific observation of her manner. She has a very large, fat face and a deep voice, and she often comes to reception to ask questions disguised as ponderous thoughts. E.g. "Based on my experiences of Perth Zoo, which I visited in --- time, I would estimate that the price of entry to Adelaide Zoo, would be --."
Me: "I can look it up for you if you like - I don't think it's as expensive as that." (opens website)
Her: (continues talking about the facts of Perth zoo, before drifting into a rant about plastic bags)
3. The man who seems to be a twelve year old boy inside a grown up's body. He is super sweet, very nervous and openly confused. Yet as excited as anything to be in Adelaide, which is... refreshing. I talked him through check-in in lots of detail to reassure him, when he told me, "I get so nervous being away from home!" and he kept coming back with more questions and clarifications, e.g. "Could you remind me again where the boy's toilets are?" "So that other bunk in my room, that's for me too?"
"Yup, it's a private room, just you, nobody else."
"Wow! Thanks so much! Will somebody as cool as you be working tomorrow too?"
We can only hope, buddy. I took a photo with his disposable camera, of him standing grinning in front of the brochure wall.
Well, that's enough for now. Bis Spater, na?
- khere wants to share fuel and fun.
Kate Miller-Heidke = awesome performer. She played at the Gov on Friday and was grand. My friend and I first ended up in front of these incredibly annoying drunk girls who were almost drowning out the singing with their conversation, and by conversation I mean 'shrieked inane comments interspersed with warbling of incorrect lyrics'. I could ignore them but when my friend politely asked them to keep it down, they responded with the helpful, "IF YOU LIKE HER SO MUCH WHYY DON'T YOU BUY THE CD EY? HUAHUAHUA." Because... we bought gig tickets? As did you? We decided to squeeze our way into another spot, which was much better, except the guy in front of us kept farting. Seriously, these were stinkers. Lucky Kate Miller-Heidke was so engaging that the undesirable crowd members were mere blips on the evening. Her band was pretty hot too.
Then last night I went along to a quiz night, where I believe I was quite unhelpful, especially in matters of geography and sports. Perhaps I redeemed myself by knowing what the word 'nullabor' meant and how many tentacles (?) a squid had, but then again I did convince my team to write that an earthworm had zero hearts, which was... 5 hearts short. DW came along, which made all the difference in the world to my happiness, as I realised I tend to have a rather disproportionate reaction to my requests (for company, etc) being rejected. Seriously. Perhaps it's because I don't tend to ask a lot of people or rely on my friends all that much, and am lacking in practice or experience or something - but if I ask DW something and he says no, not because of inescapable commitments but because he just doesn't want to - it bothers me a lot. Nevermind, it ended well, and both of us amused over how his wilful oblivion to my irritation irks me even further. And then we decided at the last minute to stay at my aunt's house, and had a lovely lovely time with lots of random talking in bed. The end.
Not really. I have more to say. I'm tossing up whether or not to go to another quiz night on Tuesday night, a German club v French club thing. I do desire to be more social within the German club, especially since a girl I know from school is in it and I have, like, a friend to launch off from. (Mel, she's so springy!) On the other hand, I have a meeting on that same night at uni (inaugaral secretary of AUHSSS, yo) so I'll be in town all day, and have to bus it home late etc, and quiz nights are fine but they do tend to drag on... but on the other hand it'd be good to get to know some more people in the club... but on the other hand, I've kind of neglected uni work lately, and I probably should study, you know, sometimes. And if I don't go then I could watch DW's indoor soccer match, which is always a plus. But then again, if I do that then I'm not really studying either. But, it won't actually be long as the quiz night, and they might actually have a chance at winning these week.
Hm. Watch this space.
The majority of Aussies who stay a the hostel are loutish, but the ones who aren't tend to be endlessly interesting. There are three there at the moment:
1. A woman who's with her kids, a 7 year old and a 7 month old. The hostel is not child unfriendly, as such, but it's certainly an adult environment and rather unusual for kids to be staying. For a baby it's probably irrelevant, but for a 7 year old, I dunno - I mean, guests will be going along their business of watching scary movies in the common area, drinking, smoking, swearing, etc, without a second thought to their little companion. What if little Timmy goes onto the balcony and someone's smoking dope? What if he goes for a piddle in the middle of the night and there's a girl and a guy showering together? I'm ambivalent - on one hand (I'm very big on the hands today, aren't I) those potential situations sound bad, on the other hand, the world is an adult environement and on principle, I think giving kid-tailored explanations for adult behaviour is generally preferable to keeping a child in a bubble.
But whatever. The point about this lady is that she seems positively unaware that having children there is unusual, and maybe even inconvenient, for other guests. She doesn't seem to really get the place. Someone will turn off the random documentary playing in the background to put on a DVD and she'll get all offended and like 'excuse me, I was actually WATCHING THAT'. I'll go to grab the rags out of the dryer and come back to hear her bleating at the reception counter, "HELLO. HELLO. HELLO. HELLO." as if I am just hiding under the counter in spite.
Worst, or most amusingly, she does this weird humourless chuckle sometimes which seems to convey something like, 'lord, how embarrassing for you.' Eg. she comes in the back door of reception and demands more linen for her kids, and when I give her some she's like, "Not that one! It's all pilled, like it's about to fall apart." Rather than dispute this I gesture at the piles of quilts and invite her to choose, and her response? "Oh, they're all like that! Ooh - of course, right?" Then she chuckles dementedly as if she's just realised the 'inappropriateness' of her remark, like of course she's totally offended me by alluding to the fact that she's in this common place. Which it is. It's a HOSTEL.
2. The woman who I think may have Aspergers, based on my very unscientific observation of her manner. She has a very large, fat face and a deep voice, and she often comes to reception to ask questions disguised as ponderous thoughts. E.g. "Based on my experiences of Perth Zoo, which I visited in --- time, I would estimate that the price of entry to Adelaide Zoo, would be --."
Me: "I can look it up for you if you like - I don't think it's as expensive as that." (opens website)
Her: (continues talking about the facts of Perth zoo, before drifting into a rant about plastic bags)
3. The man who seems to be a twelve year old boy inside a grown up's body. He is super sweet, very nervous and openly confused. Yet as excited as anything to be in Adelaide, which is... refreshing. I talked him through check-in in lots of detail to reassure him, when he told me, "I get so nervous being away from home!" and he kept coming back with more questions and clarifications, e.g. "Could you remind me again where the boy's toilets are?" "So that other bunk in my room, that's for me too?"
"Yup, it's a private room, just you, nobody else."
"Wow! Thanks so much! Will somebody as cool as you be working tomorrow too?"
We can only hope, buddy. I took a photo with his disposable camera, of him standing grinning in front of the brochure wall.
Well, that's enough for now. Bis Spater, na?
- khere wants to share fuel and fun.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Google Map It Up
For some reason I've been reluctant to write lately. Forging intimacy with my words has not appealed to me. This will be short, because I have my sexy Principles of Public Law lecturer to listen to. (Seriously, sexy in the I-want-to-be-her way. Young, pretty but hardline Consitutional Law academic.)
Could this lack of writing/desire to write again be in any way related to being an 'INTJ'??? Because apparently I am. A mastermind. I've also been pseudo-analysing my friends and have concluded that H is an ENFP (yes, I've just thrown that real name out there but screw introductions, just read a few Myer-Briggs profiles) and DW is almost certainly an ISTJ. Being of the analytic nature myself (or a product of reading too many girly magazines, one of the two) I sought to find relationship correlations between the different types - surely that had been done, right? One website said too many similarites were bad, the other said the more in common the better - but noted that a difference in 'intuition' and 'sensing' was one of the more troublesome differences. Hmm.
Well, it appears DW and I have been digging each other enough to make it work for two years. Pull out the party trumpets, people. In honour of my latest lame obsession, let's celebrate with some relevant insights:
"Daily concerns are likely to be well-provided for by [DW]. If other concerns, such as emotional needs, are pointed out to [DW] as important issues for their mates, [DW] will rise to the occasion and add the task of addressing these needs to the internal "list" of duties."
"Sexually, [Khere] enjoys thinking about intimacy, and about ways to perfect it. [Khere's] greatest potential pitfall is the tendency to think about things rather than doing them, and her difficulty reconciling reality with her inner visions."
"[Khere] is constantly embarking on "fix-up" projects to improve the overall quality of her life and relationships."
"[DW] usually has an offbeat sense of humor and can be a lot of fun."
"[DW] is interested in security and peaceful living."
"Under stress, [DW] may fall into "catastrophe mode", where he sees nothing but all of the possibilities of what could go wrong. He will berate themselves for things which he should have done differently, or duties which they failed to perform. He will lose his ability to see things calmly and reasonably, and will depress himself with visions of doom."
"No nonsense" in both food and clothes seems characteristic of [DW] who tends not to be attracted by exotic food and beverages, or places. "
...Anyway, you get the idea. We're digging it.
Woot... I'm going to Burra tomorrow! Or Clare Valley, if you want to be vaguer and more fancy-sounding. A couple of days away, girls' time with my two best buddies. Shall be good. Shall be especially good if the conversation is not a constant moan about guys, because... well. Because that's boring, and I have the luck to be removed from that mode of thought. And if I have to validate my friend's idea that it's a 'sign' that nothing has worked out with other guys and it 'proves' she should wait around for her very-over-it-ex... well, that may not be my idea of fun.
But let's be positive, eh! Drinking lots of wine and exploring towns and sleeping away in a cottage has got to be fun.
Damn it, I think I've missed the boat on listening to that lecture. I'm sleepy from today's early start and need to start getting ready for dinner with DW soon. Hm. The last few days I've been pretty good about following a self-imposed schedule, actually, and I gave myself bonus points for actually doing work at uni during the holidays. Today may have to be a write-off though.
Because I have decided to use this page as a record of my most enjoyed books/movies and the like, a note to all: Watch The Changeling! It's very good. I can lose my attention span in movies sometimes, but this one kept me engaged for every second. Plus I'm a sucker for real-life thrillers. And Angelina Jolie is credited with a sharp rise in felt hat sales.
That is all.
--khere gives a gift to society by putting her ideas into useful form
Could this lack of writing/desire to write again be in any way related to being an 'INTJ'??? Because apparently I am. A mastermind. I've also been pseudo-analysing my friends and have concluded that H is an ENFP (yes, I've just thrown that real name out there but screw introductions, just read a few Myer-Briggs profiles) and DW is almost certainly an ISTJ. Being of the analytic nature myself (or a product of reading too many girly magazines, one of the two) I sought to find relationship correlations between the different types - surely that had been done, right? One website said too many similarites were bad, the other said the more in common the better - but noted that a difference in 'intuition' and 'sensing' was one of the more troublesome differences. Hmm.
Well, it appears DW and I have been digging each other enough to make it work for two years. Pull out the party trumpets, people. In honour of my latest lame obsession, let's celebrate with some relevant insights:
"Daily concerns are likely to be well-provided for by [DW]. If other concerns, such as emotional needs, are pointed out to [DW] as important issues for their mates, [DW] will rise to the occasion and add the task of addressing these needs to the internal "list" of duties."
"Sexually, [Khere] enjoys thinking about intimacy, and about ways to perfect it. [Khere's] greatest potential pitfall is the tendency to think about things rather than doing them, and her difficulty reconciling reality with her inner visions."
"[Khere] is constantly embarking on "fix-up" projects to improve the overall quality of her life and relationships."
"[DW] usually has an offbeat sense of humor and can be a lot of fun."
"[DW] is interested in security and peaceful living."
"Under stress, [DW] may fall into "catastrophe mode", where he sees nothing but all of the possibilities of what could go wrong. He will berate themselves for things which he should have done differently, or duties which they failed to perform. He will lose his ability to see things calmly and reasonably, and will depress himself with visions of doom."
"No nonsense" in both food and clothes seems characteristic of [DW] who tends not to be attracted by exotic food and beverages, or places. "
...Anyway, you get the idea. We're digging it.
Woot... I'm going to Burra tomorrow! Or Clare Valley, if you want to be vaguer and more fancy-sounding. A couple of days away, girls' time with my two best buddies. Shall be good. Shall be especially good if the conversation is not a constant moan about guys, because... well. Because that's boring, and I have the luck to be removed from that mode of thought. And if I have to validate my friend's idea that it's a 'sign' that nothing has worked out with other guys and it 'proves' she should wait around for her very-over-it-ex... well, that may not be my idea of fun.
But let's be positive, eh! Drinking lots of wine and exploring towns and sleeping away in a cottage has got to be fun.
Damn it, I think I've missed the boat on listening to that lecture. I'm sleepy from today's early start and need to start getting ready for dinner with DW soon. Hm. The last few days I've been pretty good about following a self-imposed schedule, actually, and I gave myself bonus points for actually doing work at uni during the holidays. Today may have to be a write-off though.
Because I have decided to use this page as a record of my most enjoyed books/movies and the like, a note to all: Watch The Changeling! It's very good. I can lose my attention span in movies sometimes, but this one kept me engaged for every second. Plus I'm a sucker for real-life thrillers. And Angelina Jolie is credited with a sharp rise in felt hat sales.
That is all.
--khere gives a gift to society by putting her ideas into useful form
Monday, February 16, 2009
Soul Kitchen
Desires... to write lyrically, to live communally, with friends and cheap food. To travel locally. I feel a swelling of affection for the people I'm close to, an appreciation for talking in cars and at late night dessert cafes and on walks through the dry hills.
I look forward to being focused, when uni starts, but fear that I won't be. My time and interests are too scattered. I dread the rearrangement and negotiation of my work schedule, toy with quitting one job, the other job. To quit the hostel would seem a step backwards, and I feel that the intense sociality of it is something thats good for me, despite it being wearying at times. To quit the nut shop would be in a sense easy, but in a sense much harder, because its so comfortable.
I look forward, too, to reinvigorating the friendships that were started last year at uni, that fade with distance and time apart. New shiny people, people whose flaws and stories aren't so intimately known yet. (But: see first paragraph. Simultaneously relishing in familiarity).
People are very capable of deluding themselves, of asserting and even believing that what they think now is what they've thought all along. I say that with a wry hope, though, that the criss-crossing opposing emotions of two of my particular broken-up friends will eventually settle in the right place. Whether that 'right place' is with both of them happy to be together, or both of them happy to be apart, I don't know.
Something about the combination of books that I'm reading: Sack's observations of mentally deficient patients in The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat, and the argument between the pastor and the scientist in a Sue Miller novel - made me realise today that I believe in the human soul. I can't even remember if it were a question of belief before today or not.
Valentines Day was good, and a good opportunity for a quiet shout out about how happy I am at the moment with all that... stuff. A while ago, when we first started going out, I remember thinking that in future years, after we'd hypothetically broken up, I would always remember DW, the person, who had happened to be my boyfriend. But he would remember his girlfriend, who happened to be me.
It was only today, recollecting that thought, that it occurred to me that this assessment might not represent something negative. Part of the reason why I wouldn't see potential for a relationship with one of my close male friends is that I feel that his idea of me is too fixed, that I am a defined persona in his perception. Of course, its not that the persona is in any way faked - its me, my own essence poured within the lines of his picture. But those lines are there. They're shaped slightly differently with everyone, but they're always there, in slightly better or worse formations. People make you see yourself in different ways. Some time ago, floating in one friend's image of myself as an elegant, articulate, kind girl, I remember thinking that maybe it was bad that DW didn't make me see myself in that way. But really, it's that he doesn't make me see myself in any one way. He doesn't pour my substance into any particular self-shape. And maybe that's not a bad thing.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Night on the town
A tourist in my own town!
That's what it felt like, last night, combined oddly with a sense of being at home, of properly belonging at the hostel. For a friend's birthday, 4 of us girls had a night on the town complete with cheap (or, uh, free!) overnight accommodation at my workplace. Awesomest idea. Three of us bussed it into town and dumped our stuff in the hostel room first. There was a pillow case shortage, and the reception girl's lack of concern about this irked me slightly, perhaps more of a show to the others than because it was a real problem... but hey, I know what a bag of unwashed linen in reception looks like. I took the girls out onto the balcony to say hi to people, and we heard Paddy McIrish's advice again about not eating too much before heading to Red Rock Noodle Bar, a place which I hold in high esteem. Of all the (two) varieties of food which I have ever eaten there, they have never disappointed! They served lovely and cheap house rose, satay sauce with their prawn crackers, our little Asian waitress was cute, and they played clapping over the sound system for someone else's birthday celebration. What's not to love? Nevertheless, I didn't finish all of my spicy pineapple fried rice, not wanting to be a Sleepy Sally by midnight.
Back to the hostel, after springing my friend's wild little sister with a fake ID in town after Schutzenfest. My buddy was behind the counter this time, greeting us with, "Do you guys want alcohol?" He was being quite cute and my friends liked him. My good karma with him was rewarded by free drinks for us all. There were quite a few people around now, and it was exhilarating to be there in a truly social sense. Also, I don't want this to sound weird, but the hostel is kind of a testing ground for how I look. You know if you're getting the vibes. People notice, people check out, people comment, people flirt. I was indeed feeling the vibes, and I liked it when I was having fun with Amit, trying to hold my TED less like a cruiser and more like a manly beer, and Amit overheard the Korean guy and girl near us chatting. "What's that, something about girls' bodies? I like that topic," he said. "What were you saying?" Mr Sweet Rice-Lifter replied, "We say she look very beautiful tonight," nodding at me. Naw. You know, I love how the Asians use the word beautiful where we would say simply nice or good. I hear it from Hong (an older Chinese nursing student) sometimes too, and it makes me smile. Vey Beautifoo!
We declined the invitation to join some of the party-loving Indians at HQ, and went to Woolshed on Hindley St first. There we bumped into a fellow who had been the year below us at school, and his mate who had finished at the next-door public high school in the same year as us. Said guy and I started talking (well, it was pretty noisy, but I caught enough to have time-appropriate body language and facial expressions - thanks, Germany!) and then he seemed to, well, attach himself to me like a pseudo-boyfriend for the night. He seemed a nice enough guy, and I didn't really mind.
Our fourth girl companion joined us at the Woolshed, and then the time between then and the end of the night passed in a bit of a blur, with dancing, talking, learning martial arts moves, meeting momentarily with some guys from school who I was glad to part with (one of my friends wanted to hook up with one of them, but this would mean that I would be stuck with the other, a self-absorbed bore), a cowboy shot which somehow ended up on my hair and top instead of in my mouth, and lots of poking and tickling from my new friend. We went to Jive, then Swish, where we stayed until last drinks and lights on. Swish was funny. There were a bunch of teachers from our high school there, drunk as anything. One of them was this dorky ginger-haired English teacher, a round-faced man with a lisp. He lives somewhere very city-central, so all these cool young P.E. and tech teachers go out with him to take advantage of his hospitality. Hahah. Actually, I used to always think that Mr Ginger was kind of cute, but my gay friend and I later agreed that he was much less cute up close. Anyway, he was the only teacher who really knew who I was, and was trying to ask sensible questions about uni and my degree while we were on the dance floor. Meanwhile, the other teachers were meeting my friend's, "Who are you?" with "The best time of your life!"
As this was going on, I was getting a bit sick of my lover boy, and on occasion one of the girls would 'rescue' me from his dancing with a twirl to the other side of the group. I'm kind of bad though, being aware that I was giving him just enough attention to keep his interest, but not enough for him to really get into it. He knew that I had a boyfriend, in any case. In fact, he started using this in some weird lines. When some strangers came by and started dancing, taking my hand in the air and whatnot, he got all frowny. "If they try to dance with you, you can come back to me!" he said valiantly. "I know you've got a boyfriend and they don't!" First: Why do you think that somewhat-sexy dancing with them is something I would need to escape from, when doing the exact same thing with you was ok? What do you think these guys would do in their naive ignorance of my relationship status, that I wouldn't have any control over? I do get his point, and in a sense it was nice that he was looking out for me, but in a sense it was also... unneccesary. If I went too long without catching his eye or dancing close to him he would reach out and give me a little tickle on the waist, like, "hey, remember, I do that thing where I poke you and you do that thing where you retaliate and fight me off? Wasn't that fun?"
After we said goodbye to the guys and left Swish, it seemed like a good option to take off our heels, something which I normally avoid in town. I walked with the friend who came later up to where her car was parked to grab her stuff, which seemed disgusting when we came back the next day and looked more seeing-ly at all the oil and black shit on the concrete. EW. And DANGEROUS. As we went back to the hostel, we met the teachers who were still outside Swish. "You again!" I said. We walked along with them, telling them where we were staying, and somehow two of them (the one who I have dubbed Mr Ginger, and another who I will dub... Mr Blond) decided they were coming too. "Tell them they can't!" muttered my friend. "You're the boss!"
We stopped at the convenience store first and bought some snacks, and I discovered that the Indian guy on shift used to work at the hostel under the old managers, and was now at the other hostel. Although I was excited by this common ground, we didn't chat about the rich building owner for long before my expertise was required to get into the door. And... it didn't work! I knew the code, and it unlocked, but I couldn't push it forward. "It's like its deadlocked or something!" we panicked, and they wanted me to wake up the poor person on night-shift, but thankfully I had the sense to pull the door instead of pushing it. Oh right, maybe it isn't a push-forward door like I righteously claimed. After all this, the teachers followed us right in.
"You know you can't actually stay for long," I warned. Mr Blond drunkenly asserted that they were coming in our room. "Pretty sure, no," I said, reverting to school-speak. One friend and I went to the kitchen to share some instant noodles, and Mr Blond exclaimed over it all, like wow we were actually staying here, you work here, this is like a kitchen, hey this is soy sauce, durrr. I glimpsed Brian the night-owl in the common area and made more of a point of telling them that they had to go. Mr Blond started picking up people's bottles of sauce and stuff and shifting them into other pigeonholes, and then I was suddenly shrieky like, DUDE. NO. YOU DON'T MESS WITH THE PIGEONHOLES. Well, pardon my sensitivity, but you're not the one who has been verbally abused by a psycho bleeding old man who has lost his eggs. Although luckily we were away from Victor's pigeonhole side.
Anyway, I pointed out that I actually worked here and was not quite supposed to let strange men in at night, feeling like quite the school captain. Some people manage to stay in their school roles, gosh. Mr Ginger got the idea and started heading out, but Mr Blond was still like "party in your room! durrr." I basically kept waving goodbye at him until they left. Hahah.
Well, the night was drawing to a close and so is this bloody long recount. We slept, I woke early from the sunlight, and I don't really feel worse for wear at all. Yay for girls night!
That's what it felt like, last night, combined oddly with a sense of being at home, of properly belonging at the hostel. For a friend's birthday, 4 of us girls had a night on the town complete with cheap (or, uh, free!) overnight accommodation at my workplace. Awesomest idea. Three of us bussed it into town and dumped our stuff in the hostel room first. There was a pillow case shortage, and the reception girl's lack of concern about this irked me slightly, perhaps more of a show to the others than because it was a real problem... but hey, I know what a bag of unwashed linen in reception looks like. I took the girls out onto the balcony to say hi to people, and we heard Paddy McIrish's advice again about not eating too much before heading to Red Rock Noodle Bar, a place which I hold in high esteem. Of all the (two) varieties of food which I have ever eaten there, they have never disappointed! They served lovely and cheap house rose, satay sauce with their prawn crackers, our little Asian waitress was cute, and they played clapping over the sound system for someone else's birthday celebration. What's not to love? Nevertheless, I didn't finish all of my spicy pineapple fried rice, not wanting to be a Sleepy Sally by midnight.
Back to the hostel, after springing my friend's wild little sister with a fake ID in town after Schutzenfest. My buddy was behind the counter this time, greeting us with, "Do you guys want alcohol?" He was being quite cute and my friends liked him. My good karma with him was rewarded by free drinks for us all. There were quite a few people around now, and it was exhilarating to be there in a truly social sense. Also, I don't want this to sound weird, but the hostel is kind of a testing ground for how I look. You know if you're getting the vibes. People notice, people check out, people comment, people flirt. I was indeed feeling the vibes, and I liked it when I was having fun with Amit, trying to hold my TED less like a cruiser and more like a manly beer, and Amit overheard the Korean guy and girl near us chatting. "What's that, something about girls' bodies? I like that topic," he said. "What were you saying?" Mr Sweet Rice-Lifter replied, "We say she look very beautiful tonight," nodding at me. Naw. You know, I love how the Asians use the word beautiful where we would say simply nice or good. I hear it from Hong (an older Chinese nursing student) sometimes too, and it makes me smile. Vey Beautifoo!
We declined the invitation to join some of the party-loving Indians at HQ, and went to Woolshed on Hindley St first. There we bumped into a fellow who had been the year below us at school, and his mate who had finished at the next-door public high school in the same year as us. Said guy and I started talking (well, it was pretty noisy, but I caught enough to have time-appropriate body language and facial expressions - thanks, Germany!) and then he seemed to, well, attach himself to me like a pseudo-boyfriend for the night. He seemed a nice enough guy, and I didn't really mind.
Our fourth girl companion joined us at the Woolshed, and then the time between then and the end of the night passed in a bit of a blur, with dancing, talking, learning martial arts moves, meeting momentarily with some guys from school who I was glad to part with (one of my friends wanted to hook up with one of them, but this would mean that I would be stuck with the other, a self-absorbed bore), a cowboy shot which somehow ended up on my hair and top instead of in my mouth, and lots of poking and tickling from my new friend. We went to Jive, then Swish, where we stayed until last drinks and lights on. Swish was funny. There were a bunch of teachers from our high school there, drunk as anything. One of them was this dorky ginger-haired English teacher, a round-faced man with a lisp. He lives somewhere very city-central, so all these cool young P.E. and tech teachers go out with him to take advantage of his hospitality. Hahah. Actually, I used to always think that Mr Ginger was kind of cute, but my gay friend and I later agreed that he was much less cute up close. Anyway, he was the only teacher who really knew who I was, and was trying to ask sensible questions about uni and my degree while we were on the dance floor. Meanwhile, the other teachers were meeting my friend's, "Who are you?" with "The best time of your life!"
As this was going on, I was getting a bit sick of my lover boy, and on occasion one of the girls would 'rescue' me from his dancing with a twirl to the other side of the group. I'm kind of bad though, being aware that I was giving him just enough attention to keep his interest, but not enough for him to really get into it. He knew that I had a boyfriend, in any case. In fact, he started using this in some weird lines. When some strangers came by and started dancing, taking my hand in the air and whatnot, he got all frowny. "If they try to dance with you, you can come back to me!" he said valiantly. "I know you've got a boyfriend and they don't!" First: Why do you think that somewhat-sexy dancing with them is something I would need to escape from, when doing the exact same thing with you was ok? What do you think these guys would do in their naive ignorance of my relationship status, that I wouldn't have any control over? I do get his point, and in a sense it was nice that he was looking out for me, but in a sense it was also... unneccesary. If I went too long without catching his eye or dancing close to him he would reach out and give me a little tickle on the waist, like, "hey, remember, I do that thing where I poke you and you do that thing where you retaliate and fight me off? Wasn't that fun?"
After we said goodbye to the guys and left Swish, it seemed like a good option to take off our heels, something which I normally avoid in town. I walked with the friend who came later up to where her car was parked to grab her stuff, which seemed disgusting when we came back the next day and looked more seeing-ly at all the oil and black shit on the concrete. EW. And DANGEROUS. As we went back to the hostel, we met the teachers who were still outside Swish. "You again!" I said. We walked along with them, telling them where we were staying, and somehow two of them (the one who I have dubbed Mr Ginger, and another who I will dub... Mr Blond) decided they were coming too. "Tell them they can't!" muttered my friend. "You're the boss!"
We stopped at the convenience store first and bought some snacks, and I discovered that the Indian guy on shift used to work at the hostel under the old managers, and was now at the other hostel. Although I was excited by this common ground, we didn't chat about the rich building owner for long before my expertise was required to get into the door. And... it didn't work! I knew the code, and it unlocked, but I couldn't push it forward. "It's like its deadlocked or something!" we panicked, and they wanted me to wake up the poor person on night-shift, but thankfully I had the sense to pull the door instead of pushing it. Oh right, maybe it isn't a push-forward door like I righteously claimed. After all this, the teachers followed us right in.
"You know you can't actually stay for long," I warned. Mr Blond drunkenly asserted that they were coming in our room. "Pretty sure, no," I said, reverting to school-speak. One friend and I went to the kitchen to share some instant noodles, and Mr Blond exclaimed over it all, like wow we were actually staying here, you work here, this is like a kitchen, hey this is soy sauce, durrr. I glimpsed Brian the night-owl in the common area and made more of a point of telling them that they had to go. Mr Blond started picking up people's bottles of sauce and stuff and shifting them into other pigeonholes, and then I was suddenly shrieky like, DUDE. NO. YOU DON'T MESS WITH THE PIGEONHOLES. Well, pardon my sensitivity, but you're not the one who has been verbally abused by a psycho bleeding old man who has lost his eggs. Although luckily we were away from Victor's pigeonhole side.
Anyway, I pointed out that I actually worked here and was not quite supposed to let strange men in at night, feeling like quite the school captain. Some people manage to stay in their school roles, gosh. Mr Ginger got the idea and started heading out, but Mr Blond was still like "party in your room! durrr." I basically kept waving goodbye at him until they left. Hahah.
Well, the night was drawing to a close and so is this bloody long recount. We slept, I woke early from the sunlight, and I don't really feel worse for wear at all. Yay for girls night!
Thursday, January 1, 2009
New Years fun
Today began at 5 am. I woke to DW's ridiculously loud and cheerful mexican-themed phone alarm, and gave him a shove because he, astoundingly, still lay sleeping. "I'll put it for nine more minutes on snooze," he mumbled, before rolling over and pulling all the sleeping bag with him in one move. Well, being cold and unable to get comfortable was an incentive to get out of bed after those nine minutes had passed.
It was DW's idea to leave the shack early, so as to catch the Southern Expressway before all the city-bound traffic clogged it up. When his suggestion was first met with a 'wha?" from me, he reminded me how nice it would be driving with the sun rising and all. True, the idea did have some romantic appeal. So this morning we chucked out all the old food from the fridge, packed the car, grumbled over the front door lock for some time (although the handle was technically locked, you could still actually push the door open. Shh.) and were gone soon after six. The shack doesn't have its own bin, and last year our group had made regular use of a dumpster in the shopping centre carpark. This year, the dumpsters were all in a locked area, so I hauled the bags from DWs boot into a council bin near a bus stop. Shh again. There was a sign on the bin warning of a $500 fine for doing just that, and DW conveniently stayed in the driver's seat while I carried out the leg work for our secret operation.
So, the house was barely stirring by the time I got home back to the red-barked gum trees of the North East. I've had a long and quiet day, filled with things like watching Greys Anatomy, reading Twilight and uploading photos to facebook.
And New Years Eve? New Years was fun. I, who had been momentarily concerned that we wouldn't have 'enough alcohol', rediscovered how easily I can get pissed. There was dancing in the shack, walking in the cold to the beach, H crying over her ex, me then getting sniffly to DW because I thought I had made her cry, peeing in the bushes, shouting greetings at everyone we passed, deciding that the beach was not the happening scene of last year, staggering back to the shack, collapsing on the bed with DW, being disturbed by the 18-year-old councillor flinging our door open to check on us (don't worry, he was an invite and not an enforcer of moral correctness), getting up again to socialise some more, hearing about the friend who decided to wade in the water and the other friend who freaked out thinking she had drowned, eventually dozing off, being stirred by DW for some bed-jiggling, becoming eventually weary of said shenanigans, realising it was now light, falling back asleep for a few hours and awakening with barely a hangover. DW couldn't say the same thing. Yay me for avoiding the tequila!
H's dad was arriving back from a trip a day earlier than planned, so she left with her full car of travellers on New Years Day. The other two friends (the issue-ridden beach-drowning pair) were staying at Goolwa and they also left. So, DW and I had the surprising bonus of a night to ourselves! Although DW had enjoyed himself and was indeed loud and extroverted with my buddies (especially his former work mate 'councillor Jones') I think he was very glad to wind down and have some peace and one-on-one company. We watched TV and cuddled, had a looong session of... shenanigans... and showered together afterward. Getting clean and dry after the shower gave me almost the same feeling that you have after the beach as a kid, that sense of being refreshed but worn out in a good way, unaware of the exercise that you'd been doing. I felt like going to the beach again in the evening, just to do it justice, you know? It was such a pretty coast and a nice night. DW was less keen, still feeling seedy and having little energy, but we went down there and ate at a fish and chip shop on the Esplanade, fulfilling my desire for beachside charm while avoiding the exertion of, you know, walking on the sand or anything. Then there was watching of game shows back at the shack (Temptation and Don't Forget the Lyrics), silly playfights over things like DWs persistent 'flub flub' noises, talking and cuddling and sleeping. And now we've done a circle from the beginning of the entry.
So, that was New Years. Overall pretty awesome, I'd say.
It was DW's idea to leave the shack early, so as to catch the Southern Expressway before all the city-bound traffic clogged it up. When his suggestion was first met with a 'wha?" from me, he reminded me how nice it would be driving with the sun rising and all. True, the idea did have some romantic appeal. So this morning we chucked out all the old food from the fridge, packed the car, grumbled over the front door lock for some time (although the handle was technically locked, you could still actually push the door open. Shh.) and were gone soon after six. The shack doesn't have its own bin, and last year our group had made regular use of a dumpster in the shopping centre carpark. This year, the dumpsters were all in a locked area, so I hauled the bags from DWs boot into a council bin near a bus stop. Shh again. There was a sign on the bin warning of a $500 fine for doing just that, and DW conveniently stayed in the driver's seat while I carried out the leg work for our secret operation.
So, the house was barely stirring by the time I got home back to the red-barked gum trees of the North East. I've had a long and quiet day, filled with things like watching Greys Anatomy, reading Twilight and uploading photos to facebook.
And New Years Eve? New Years was fun. I, who had been momentarily concerned that we wouldn't have 'enough alcohol', rediscovered how easily I can get pissed. There was dancing in the shack, walking in the cold to the beach, H crying over her ex, me then getting sniffly to DW because I thought I had made her cry, peeing in the bushes, shouting greetings at everyone we passed, deciding that the beach was not the happening scene of last year, staggering back to the shack, collapsing on the bed with DW, being disturbed by the 18-year-old councillor flinging our door open to check on us (don't worry, he was an invite and not an enforcer of moral correctness), getting up again to socialise some more, hearing about the friend who decided to wade in the water and the other friend who freaked out thinking she had drowned, eventually dozing off, being stirred by DW for some bed-jiggling, becoming eventually weary of said shenanigans, realising it was now light, falling back asleep for a few hours and awakening with barely a hangover. DW couldn't say the same thing. Yay me for avoiding the tequila!
H's dad was arriving back from a trip a day earlier than planned, so she left with her full car of travellers on New Years Day. The other two friends (the issue-ridden beach-drowning pair) were staying at Goolwa and they also left. So, DW and I had the surprising bonus of a night to ourselves! Although DW had enjoyed himself and was indeed loud and extroverted with my buddies (especially his former work mate 'councillor Jones') I think he was very glad to wind down and have some peace and one-on-one company. We watched TV and cuddled, had a looong session of... shenanigans... and showered together afterward. Getting clean and dry after the shower gave me almost the same feeling that you have after the beach as a kid, that sense of being refreshed but worn out in a good way, unaware of the exercise that you'd been doing. I felt like going to the beach again in the evening, just to do it justice, you know? It was such a pretty coast and a nice night. DW was less keen, still feeling seedy and having little energy, but we went down there and ate at a fish and chip shop on the Esplanade, fulfilling my desire for beachside charm while avoiding the exertion of, you know, walking on the sand or anything. Then there was watching of game shows back at the shack (Temptation and Don't Forget the Lyrics), silly playfights over things like DWs persistent 'flub flub' noises, talking and cuddling and sleeping. And now we've done a circle from the beginning of the entry.
So, that was New Years. Overall pretty awesome, I'd say.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Electric Field
I've had a lovely five days off, during which I:
- Went to the city on a Sunday by myself. It's weird that the city is actually much more old-timey on Sundays than the suburbs are. Even the stores that trade Sundays (and they advertise this so excitedly!) are only open something like 11-3. Not that I mind, it's just kind of... cute... that suburban plazas will be open for another two hours after city shops close up. Although, maybe it makes sense with the price it'd cost to trade in a better area or something... anyway. It was pleasant to wander down Rundle Street in my long swishy skirt. I discovered that you can buy quick-drying underwear made out of soy in outdoor shops, furthering my confusion about soy.
- Had two chilled-out nights of birthday celebrations. Friend #1 is a smart girl from the country who we had dinner with in town to celebrate her 20th. She also invited Friend #2, a guy from high school who I have a close but antagonistic friendship with. I think we were probably perceived as a couple (a bickery, 'well-this-one-time-he-did-this-thing' type couple) until I set somebody correct. Thank goodness we're not a couple, though. Stressing out beforehand that we're going to be late is more fun with my real boyfriend.
We went to a cocktail bar afterwards, which, being a Tuesday, was almost empty. I actually thought this was rocking, and we spread out over the couches. Unfortunately I had driven us, as a gesture of goodwill towards my companion, who often drives me due to his reluctance to drink and my propensity towards it. So I could not waste my money on expensive but awesome-sounding drinks involving chocolate and butterscotch. That's what I get!
Oh, and I got scared afterwards because I thought a creepy man with no arms was lunging towards us as we walked back to the car. Turns out he had his arms inside his tee-shirt, presumably because it was cold, and he was actually just making a step towards an arriving bus. Whew!
Friend #2, the same one starring in the anecdote about Friend #1, had a birthday dinner at the local golf club the night after. Pros: I got to see some friends which I hadn't for a while, DW came, my meal was nice, my wine was nice. Cons: The table was much too large and awkward, DW and I argued somewhat, there was boring debate about vegetarianism from my newly vegetarian friend who claims that she doesn't preach, but somehow ends up preaching each meal. And we didn't go anywhere afterwards, so that was kind of boring, although I wouldn't have been able to drink even if we did because I drove again (am I earning enough brownie points yet?). A few of us did get silly icecream from Cold Rock afterwards and then I went back to DW's house for Adult Fun Time, so maybe the lack of group party action was a good thing after all.
- Watched two episodes of Survivor, which were quite entertaining. I think Ozzy is under the impression that he is the only person to actually ever have been voted off or 'betrayed' (I put that in quotations because what works in Survivor suddenly sounds lame in real-world-talk), so dark and bitter were his glares from the 'jury' (...again).
- Went to Glenelg with DW today, an endeavor which involved six separate trips on public transport, but was quite a nice day out. It was cloudy and warm but sort of raining sporadically, which wasn't the best beachside weather, but then again I hate bright sun so I didn't mind. Plus, it meant that Glenelg wasn't too busy with kids on school holidays, which DW appreciated too. Haha, we're such old people. I bought a dress from a surf shop which I was quite happy with, being girlishly buoyed in spirits by a cute and well-fitting purchase, and a book about dogs which DW couldn't justify getting for himself so I said I'd give it to him for Christmas.
- Came to the shocking realisation that 1) The phrase, "Do you want a medal or a chest to pin it on?" refers to an actual body-part chest, not, like... a wooden chest. Or does it? More extensive research may have to be undertaken... and 2) The MGMT song is called 'Electric Feel', not 'Electric Field' as I had otherwise thought. Sigh. The latter is a much cooler title.
Yeah... presumably there was more that occurred over five days, but that's all that springs to mind. That, and I should go to bed, since I'm starting at 6 am tomorrow. Oh and by the way, I'm glad I appreciated my time off because I'm now working nine days straight.... ew.
- Went to the city on a Sunday by myself. It's weird that the city is actually much more old-timey on Sundays than the suburbs are. Even the stores that trade Sundays (and they advertise this so excitedly!) are only open something like 11-3. Not that I mind, it's just kind of... cute... that suburban plazas will be open for another two hours after city shops close up. Although, maybe it makes sense with the price it'd cost to trade in a better area or something... anyway. It was pleasant to wander down Rundle Street in my long swishy skirt. I discovered that you can buy quick-drying underwear made out of soy in outdoor shops, furthering my confusion about soy.
- Had two chilled-out nights of birthday celebrations. Friend #1 is a smart girl from the country who we had dinner with in town to celebrate her 20th. She also invited Friend #2, a guy from high school who I have a close but antagonistic friendship with. I think we were probably perceived as a couple (a bickery, 'well-this-one-time-he-did-this-thing' type couple) until I set somebody correct. Thank goodness we're not a couple, though. Stressing out beforehand that we're going to be late is more fun with my real boyfriend.
We went to a cocktail bar afterwards, which, being a Tuesday, was almost empty. I actually thought this was rocking, and we spread out over the couches. Unfortunately I had driven us, as a gesture of goodwill towards my companion, who often drives me due to his reluctance to drink and my propensity towards it. So I could not waste my money on expensive but awesome-sounding drinks involving chocolate and butterscotch. That's what I get!
Oh, and I got scared afterwards because I thought a creepy man with no arms was lunging towards us as we walked back to the car. Turns out he had his arms inside his tee-shirt, presumably because it was cold, and he was actually just making a step towards an arriving bus. Whew!
Friend #2, the same one starring in the anecdote about Friend #1, had a birthday dinner at the local golf club the night after. Pros: I got to see some friends which I hadn't for a while, DW came, my meal was nice, my wine was nice. Cons: The table was much too large and awkward, DW and I argued somewhat, there was boring debate about vegetarianism from my newly vegetarian friend who claims that she doesn't preach, but somehow ends up preaching each meal. And we didn't go anywhere afterwards, so that was kind of boring, although I wouldn't have been able to drink even if we did because I drove again (am I earning enough brownie points yet?). A few of us did get silly icecream from Cold Rock afterwards and then I went back to DW's house for Adult Fun Time, so maybe the lack of group party action was a good thing after all.
- Watched two episodes of Survivor, which were quite entertaining. I think Ozzy is under the impression that he is the only person to actually ever have been voted off or 'betrayed' (I put that in quotations because what works in Survivor suddenly sounds lame in real-world-talk), so dark and bitter were his glares from the 'jury' (...again).
- Went to Glenelg with DW today, an endeavor which involved six separate trips on public transport, but was quite a nice day out. It was cloudy and warm but sort of raining sporadically, which wasn't the best beachside weather, but then again I hate bright sun so I didn't mind. Plus, it meant that Glenelg wasn't too busy with kids on school holidays, which DW appreciated too. Haha, we're such old people. I bought a dress from a surf shop which I was quite happy with, being girlishly buoyed in spirits by a cute and well-fitting purchase, and a book about dogs which DW couldn't justify getting for himself so I said I'd give it to him for Christmas.
- Came to the shocking realisation that 1) The phrase, "Do you want a medal or a chest to pin it on?" refers to an actual body-part chest, not, like... a wooden chest. Or does it? More extensive research may have to be undertaken... and 2) The MGMT song is called 'Electric Feel', not 'Electric Field' as I had otherwise thought. Sigh. The latter is a much cooler title.
Yeah... presumably there was more that occurred over five days, but that's all that springs to mind. That, and I should go to bed, since I'm starting at 6 am tomorrow. Oh and by the way, I'm glad I appreciated my time off because I'm now working nine days straight.... ew.
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