Running with pink knees and wet hair stuck to my face, pounding around the curve of grey gravel. An simple painter's easel: grey sky, grey rain, blue wet-speckled clothes and green to fill in the gaps. Nobody around but me and the rain. Rain pelts down but my skin is numb to it, and the wind sweeps the water from the puddles in my direction. Streak those colours, sweep some bristles sideways over the picture, rough it up.
Plus:
A hot bath, no bubbles.
= natural high.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Little Red Corvette
The carpet of the bedroom floor underneath our bodies. Cuddling under his warm skin for a few minutes longer before the cool air forces us to sit up, to cover ourselves or dress.
We lie on top of the covers, rather than underneath - he doesn't like his bed to be all messed up once I leave and he goes to sleep. The sleeping bag he keeps for extra warmth is an innocuous item, but one that saves us. For I like to snuggle under the weight of blankets, my feet get cold, and besides, what kind of mean boyfriend won't let his girlfriend in his bed? We would lie in bed under the covers when we were a newer couple - what, now you take me for granted, so much so that you can expect I will come here and pleasure you (such nice words, but said as if they taste bitter, dirty) and then not even want me to lie in your bed for a while? That was one of our only fights, and I fancied that his reluctance to peel back the covers was a symptom for something more significant. I made it clear that I could disregard his preferences and mess up his bed if I wanted to, but I wouldn't because I understood that everybody had their little quirks and you abided by them because you loved them. But I let him know that HE ONLY HAD, LIKE, TEN POINTS OF IRRITATING QUIRKINESS TO USE UP AND THIS COVERS THING WAS LIKE, EIGHT POINTS. Next time I came over, he had the sleeping bag at the ready. Turns out it wasn't a symptom of anything. Now I enjoy snuggling with warm feet and feel affectionate about both his 'quirk' and his ever-practical solution.
He sometimes picks me up from work at night in town, even when it's not on his way at all, so can spend some time with me.
He gropes me when I'm driving.
I think the two are connected.
He talks about concrete and physical matters, like anecdotes from his day, things that have happened or will happen. Or else he starts bantering, silly back-forth exchanges as if the two of us exist nowhere but the present, which is nothing-talk and at the same time everything-talk. In contrast, sometimes I bring up abstract ideas, hypotheticals, analysis of feelings, theories about other people. When I do that, I can become self-conscious of feeling like I'm just talking out loud without engaging him. But often, weeks or months later, I'll hear phrases that I've crafted, my own theories and analyses, spoken as fact from his mouth.
He came to a family gathering a few weeks ago with a bloody scratch on the side of his nose, and told people wryly that he'd got in the way of a shovel when helping his dad with something. Later he mentioned to me that his dog had actually bitten him. When I was baffled as to why he would lie, he chuckled and said, "I just wanted to see how long I could keep it up before somebody realised that my story didn't really make sense!"
"...You're right, you exposed my family for their... lack of detective-level interrogation? Willingness to take you at face value?"
"Ok, fine."
"Boy, did you show them!" I started laughing.
"Shut up."
"They'll be soooo embarrassed when they realised!"
He started wrestling me with a couch cushion. I won that one.
He thinks he'll be such a good catch 'when he's thirty' and all the women are starting to turn away from the party boys and want someone with financial security who can actually look after them. And they'll be like, late twenties and starting to be a bit paranoid about losing their looks, and the biological clocks will be ticking. And maybe by then he'll be able to play the 'dad card' to endear himself even more to these sporty single ladies... Equal parts horrified (who mothered his kid, then? Where is she *cough* I in this scene?) and amused because I'm sure he's not wrong. When I went to say the above in protest it suddenly felt forward to presume myself the mother of his fantasy child, and instead came out just, "Where am I then?"
"Hopefully right by my side," he said, looking over from the passenger seat and smiling. And now it was he who was being the forward one, and I was a little taken aback. "Well, where do you see yourself in five years?" he said. "Am I there?"
"I guess so," I said.
"You say that with some trepidation!"
But it wasn't trepidation, it was more like a numbness at the bigness and greatness of it, to hear it, however tentatively, put into words.
He hugs other guys and finds it funny to pretend to be gay. He mouths the words to 'Little Red Corvette.'
God I love that dude.
We lie on top of the covers, rather than underneath - he doesn't like his bed to be all messed up once I leave and he goes to sleep. The sleeping bag he keeps for extra warmth is an innocuous item, but one that saves us. For I like to snuggle under the weight of blankets, my feet get cold, and besides, what kind of mean boyfriend won't let his girlfriend in his bed? We would lie in bed under the covers when we were a newer couple - what, now you take me for granted, so much so that you can expect I will come here and pleasure you (such nice words, but said as if they taste bitter, dirty) and then not even want me to lie in your bed for a while? That was one of our only fights, and I fancied that his reluctance to peel back the covers was a symptom for something more significant. I made it clear that I could disregard his preferences and mess up his bed if I wanted to, but I wouldn't because I understood that everybody had their little quirks and you abided by them because you loved them. But I let him know that HE ONLY HAD, LIKE, TEN POINTS OF IRRITATING QUIRKINESS TO USE UP AND THIS COVERS THING WAS LIKE, EIGHT POINTS. Next time I came over, he had the sleeping bag at the ready. Turns out it wasn't a symptom of anything. Now I enjoy snuggling with warm feet and feel affectionate about both his 'quirk' and his ever-practical solution.
He sometimes picks me up from work at night in town, even when it's not on his way at all, so can spend some time with me.
He gropes me when I'm driving.
I think the two are connected.
He talks about concrete and physical matters, like anecdotes from his day, things that have happened or will happen. Or else he starts bantering, silly back-forth exchanges as if the two of us exist nowhere but the present, which is nothing-talk and at the same time everything-talk. In contrast, sometimes I bring up abstract ideas, hypotheticals, analysis of feelings, theories about other people. When I do that, I can become self-conscious of feeling like I'm just talking out loud without engaging him. But often, weeks or months later, I'll hear phrases that I've crafted, my own theories and analyses, spoken as fact from his mouth.
He came to a family gathering a few weeks ago with a bloody scratch on the side of his nose, and told people wryly that he'd got in the way of a shovel when helping his dad with something. Later he mentioned to me that his dog had actually bitten him. When I was baffled as to why he would lie, he chuckled and said, "I just wanted to see how long I could keep it up before somebody realised that my story didn't really make sense!"
"...You're right, you exposed my family for their... lack of detective-level interrogation? Willingness to take you at face value?"
"Ok, fine."
"Boy, did you show them!" I started laughing.
"Shut up."
"They'll be soooo embarrassed when they realised!"
He started wrestling me with a couch cushion. I won that one.
He thinks he'll be such a good catch 'when he's thirty' and all the women are starting to turn away from the party boys and want someone with financial security who can actually look after them. And they'll be like, late twenties and starting to be a bit paranoid about losing their looks, and the biological clocks will be ticking. And maybe by then he'll be able to play the 'dad card' to endear himself even more to these sporty single ladies... Equal parts horrified (who mothered his kid, then? Where is she *cough* I in this scene?) and amused because I'm sure he's not wrong. When I went to say the above in protest it suddenly felt forward to presume myself the mother of his fantasy child, and instead came out just, "Where am I then?"
"Hopefully right by my side," he said, looking over from the passenger seat and smiling. And now it was he who was being the forward one, and I was a little taken aback. "Well, where do you see yourself in five years?" he said. "Am I there?"
"I guess so," I said.
"You say that with some trepidation!"
But it wasn't trepidation, it was more like a numbness at the bigness and greatness of it, to hear it, however tentatively, put into words.
He hugs other guys and finds it funny to pretend to be gay. He mouths the words to 'Little Red Corvette.'
God I love that dude.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
That's What He Said.
Restless. Not sure why. After a busy few days of working and socialising, and with a barbeque to look forward to tonight, in theory I’m glad to have time to relax at home by myself for a few hours and get some studying done. Unfortunately the theory doesn’t correlate with reality, which has me skimming pages, snacking compulsively and watching the clock, glad when enough time has passed that I can do something like prepare lunch or message DW. Possible reasons for my unrest include:
- Windy day. What was that kid’s novel explaining why stuff went crazy on windy days?
- Too much tea. The ‘alert yet relaxed’ state advertised on the box was leapt over a few cups ago.
- Failure of internet connection. Let me procrastinate how I see fit, damnit!
- A feeling I need to say something to stabilise things with a good friend – there’s not a problem between us as such, but an undefined grey area which needs to be brought into focus.
- A slight wistfulness that I don’t feel like I’ve really spoken properly to DW for some time.
- I sort of felt all morning like going for a walk/run, but didn’t for lame reasons (don’t like running when I first get up, didn’t want to shower again, needed to study). Now I’m all unexercised and blah.
- Whenever I venture to crack open the pages of my property law textbook, it radiates some sort of invisible, odourless cloud that induces me into a stupor of boredom. Could you study in the face of that mysterious force?
UPDATE: The latter part of my day included noodle salad, a hilarious little dog that went into 'freeze' mode when its eyes were covered, friends and affection and plain old kissing. Man, kissing when you want to kiss is really good.
-- khere is a funky fix for guys and chicks.
- Windy day. What was that kid’s novel explaining why stuff went crazy on windy days?
- Too much tea. The ‘alert yet relaxed’ state advertised on the box was leapt over a few cups ago.
- Failure of internet connection. Let me procrastinate how I see fit, damnit!
- A feeling I need to say something to stabilise things with a good friend – there’s not a problem between us as such, but an undefined grey area which needs to be brought into focus.
- A slight wistfulness that I don’t feel like I’ve really spoken properly to DW for some time.
- I sort of felt all morning like going for a walk/run, but didn’t for lame reasons (don’t like running when I first get up, didn’t want to shower again, needed to study). Now I’m all unexercised and blah.
- Whenever I venture to crack open the pages of my property law textbook, it radiates some sort of invisible, odourless cloud that induces me into a stupor of boredom. Could you study in the face of that mysterious force?
UPDATE: The latter part of my day included noodle salad, a hilarious little dog that went into 'freeze' mode when its eyes were covered, friends and affection and plain old kissing. Man, kissing when you want to kiss is really good.
-- khere is a funky fix for guys and chicks.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
In other news: Borneo
TOMORROW
Tomorrow we are leaving the house, and going to the airport, and then going on a plane (eeee!) and then arriving in Singapore, and then the next day going to Borneo.
Woot woot!
I was going to write a more coherent entry earlier in the week but... I think the time has passed for that.
Borneo!
- khere micromanages her luggage
Tomorrow we are leaving the house, and going to the airport, and then going on a plane (eeee!) and then arriving in Singapore, and then the next day going to Borneo.
Woot woot!
I was going to write a more coherent entry earlier in the week but... I think the time has passed for that.
Borneo!
- khere micromanages her luggage
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'
Monday, May 18, 2009
A little speedy
Am feeling a little out of control lately. Ways I plan to rectify this:
- Clothing Cull. "Secondary" items that are bunching up my drawers and making my good clothes all forgotten and wrinkly = GONE.
- After said clothing cull, donate clothes to goodwill or store the seasonally unappropriate things somewhere tidy. Don't leave garbage bag of clothes in room for ridiculous amount of time.
- Flash cards. For some reason I have a desire to make law flash cards that I can review at places like work, where I have relatively long periods of study opportunity but lack the mental space to do anything involving too much prolonged concentration. Once I have these flash cards, my life will be complete.
- Compile all the items that I need for my passport application, and put them in my bag, and set a reminder on my phone that I have an 'appointment' at the post office.
- Call my friend re. movie times. Call another friend re. uni meetings and walks and to generally jump into the vibe.
- Listen to today's missed lecture before I go to tomorrow's continuation. Hm. Early tomorrow morning perhaps. Nothing like getting up early (or even better, PLANNING to get up early!) to feel in control of things.
Things to look forward to:
Cocktails on Thursday. Omg, inordinately looking forward to this. It takes a bit to make me desire girlytime so much, but for whatever reason I'm really hanging out for it. There seem to be way too many weekdays between now and then.
Compiling a CD for my friend. She will be singing along in the car before she knows it.
Reading Marley and Me. I think I will approve.
Having no obligation to feed any cat but my own. I'm sorry Sass, I won't miss seeing the silent parody of an indigant cat through my car window when I pull up to see you.
My birthday coming soon, and the prospect of hanging out with all my most favourite people at once.
Time to get things rolling.
--khere is gingko this, ginseng that
- Clothing Cull. "Secondary" items that are bunching up my drawers and making my good clothes all forgotten and wrinkly = GONE.
- After said clothing cull, donate clothes to goodwill or store the seasonally unappropriate things somewhere tidy. Don't leave garbage bag of clothes in room for ridiculous amount of time.
- Flash cards. For some reason I have a desire to make law flash cards that I can review at places like work, where I have relatively long periods of study opportunity but lack the mental space to do anything involving too much prolonged concentration. Once I have these flash cards, my life will be complete.
- Compile all the items that I need for my passport application, and put them in my bag, and set a reminder on my phone that I have an 'appointment' at the post office.
- Call my friend re. movie times. Call another friend re. uni meetings and walks and to generally jump into the vibe.
- Listen to today's missed lecture before I go to tomorrow's continuation. Hm. Early tomorrow morning perhaps. Nothing like getting up early (or even better, PLANNING to get up early!) to feel in control of things.
Things to look forward to:
Cocktails on Thursday. Omg, inordinately looking forward to this. It takes a bit to make me desire girlytime so much, but for whatever reason I'm really hanging out for it. There seem to be way too many weekdays between now and then.
Compiling a CD for my friend. She will be singing along in the car before she knows it.
Reading Marley and Me. I think I will approve.
Having no obligation to feed any cat but my own. I'm sorry Sass, I won't miss seeing the silent parody of an indigant cat through my car window when I pull up to see you.
My birthday coming soon, and the prospect of hanging out with all my most favourite people at once.
Time to get things rolling.
--khere is gingko this, ginseng that
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.
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