Monday, February 28, 2005

Some people

You know what's annoying? people who don't sign out of their blogger sessions, so that I get SIGNED IN to their blogs (and it's also impossible then to 1. sign into my blog without remembering my blog id by heart 2. to write nasty things on other people's, ie. the people who don't sign out, blogs because it gets blocked). Delete your cookies people!

Also, some people don't check their email NEARLY frequently enough.

If you cannot tell, I am pouting right now, and it is very cute.

Humph.

Yes, yes, no cd is off limits

I work my way through my paltry cd collection (they's so heavy, only brought about 50...) about twice a week. I can barely stand to have silence, and can even more barely stand radio commercials. So yes, listening to Dido as in listening to Dido's first ever cd that I obtained illegally from AD years ago for Christmas. I cycle through the lot of them about twice a week. Other gems from my collection (and I will never admit this again, so listen up) include:
Third eye blind (that's the winner)
Sarah MacLachlan
NIN
Semisonic
Big Wreck
Natalie Imbruglia
and of course, the Saved the Last Dance soundtrack.

I am... at your mercy.

Sunday, February 27, 2005

Could we deal for a second...?

So I took this course called "Archaeology in Film and Fiction" thinking, hey, this isn't quite the "Filming cultures" high-brow anthropology one I was hoping for, but maybe it'll approximate. Surely we won't be just watching the IJ trilogy for credit (for the hundred-millionth time).

Two guesses what the first 2 movies are.
Three guesses what the third movie is.
(for answers hold bottom of cereal box up to mirror)

So right now, I could be watching IJ and the last crusade, but instead I'm here, typing n'importe quoi to you lot, and going off to watch some b&w German number called Alice in the Cities. Yup.

I'm in a bit of a mood right now, I'm sure it will pass. It's sunny outside, I want to go swimming. Instead, I'm probably going to finish this movie, go home, work on my psych notes (audit the lecture I missed), and write some more gd'd poetry. Just to set the tone here, read this one. There's some fuel for my psycho hate fans.

Actually, I don't think I ever wrote the psycho hate story up here. But I don't think I will. Suffice to say some people who I don't know and have never met judge me as psycho and hateful. Okay so I'm not exactly cute and fluffy, but come on. On the bright side, my stock in their sad little waste of time internet trading game is through the roof! yay me. comment you people I dare you.

I am sitting in the library -- crying.

no really, I'm laughing so hard right now and trying to hold it in, my eyes are streaming and my nostrils... well. you know.
Dying, absolutely dying.

Check out, if you will, entry number 106 and join in my mirth.

F-ING HILARIOUS

omg I can't breathe.

Saturday, February 26, 2005

You big fat hairy slackers

J/K

Well, I can tell by the heaps of e-mails and the 1 comment from first time commenter and long time silent, one Sir Kent, that you're all happily slacking away your reading weeks. I tip my hat to you children! And since I know you're all much to busy drinking to read something labouriously well thought out and incandescently entertaining, I will stick to clever and funny, and tell you two interesting anecdotes.
The first is about Australia:

So you know how the US has COPS? Well Australia doesn't. But what they DO have is a reality television show called "Border Security: Australia's Front Line."

No, seriously, they really do. It has previews with bald men sweating under immigration officers' stares "This man has 3 bottles of shampoo in his luggage, and very little hair WHAT IS HE HIDING??!!" Which might bring home to you slightly the extent to which these people are obsessed with their immigration (or lack thereof). The news is FULL of stories of 104 year old grandmothers about to be deported, and Australian citizens being wrongfully detained for 10 months in Immi-prison. This leaves me with one question: How the F did I get into this country without anyone bothering to even check my visa? Wow.

Okay and now my second: Developmental Psych and Alexis - HA HA HA
This comes from reading those Psych chapters late at night, but boy am I glad I did, because otherwise I might have missed my textbook's sense of humour. That's right you heard me -
Cover page of chapter 5: "Physical Development in Infancy."

"A baby is the most complicated object made by unskilled labour." ~ Anonymous

Ah ha ha ha... the more I think about it, the funnier it gets. It just has so many layers!

Thursday, February 24, 2005

Insomniac Alert

My favourite sign of academic anxiety beginning to tighten it's grasp. Last night I went to sleep at 2 and woke up this morning at 7. I haven't had more than 7 hours of sleep in the last week... sigh... If I keep this level of mental excitement up I know I'm gonna crash eventually -- but until then:
Things I do to fill up the hours of sleeplessness-
- sneak into my dad's room, steal the phonebook and make expensive phone calls
- go to the gym and try to tire myself out
- write crappy poetry for my portfolio
- read Dylan Thomas (this poem)and e.e. cummings (this poem)
- read long-winded analyses of historical films
- read developmental psych chapters
- eat muffins and drink coke - bad, bad idea
- listen to marvin gaye, otis redding, etta james, eva cassidy, and billie holiday
- watch infomercials...
- write lists

Cheers kiddos, wish me zzz's

P.S. baby it's in the 19th, and that's all the help you're getting.

Tuesday, February 22, 2005


and this skinny f may or may not be my brother swimming in the Mediterranean in 12 degree weather. What a shock it'll be for him when he gets here to the heated swimming pool. Posted by Hello


and here is J on top of a very large yellow tank. Posted by Hello


Oh, and I have to put this one up because, how good does that car look? I took this picture on a mountain top in Provence. If you ask me, Toyota should totally hire me to do their photography. Posted by Hello


For good measure, here is an incredibly embarassing picture of me and my brother scarfing Ferrero Rocher, while in a single bed together, watching Buffy episodes. Season 5 I believe. Thank the lord I have a life now... Posted by Hello


okay, here is a really f-ing ugly picture of me in Nicosia (Lefkosia) in some remakes (my favourite thing!) of ancient dwellings that used to be on the island. Now we can please stop whining because I haven't GOT any pictures yet. Jeez. Oz gets photographed after the 7th of March, or, if you're all very well behaved, I'll get up to some fancy tricks with my dvcam... Posted by Hello

Monday, February 21, 2005

Bottle of wine brings satisfactory end to first day of school

February 21st (just incase the date comes out wrong... I may be able to change this but have been too lazy so far)

2pm:

Questions:
- My Archaeology professor, a one Dr. Hiscock. Is there a single one of my profs I'm going to be able to look in the face (let alone any other part of their anatomy)?
- Are the guys in film going to be as pretentious as in Canada?
- What the fuck am I doing here? Everyone else has a textbook. F. And I'm not sitting next to anyone.
- How old are these people? Am I the oldest person in this room (besides *snort* Hiscock)?? I really, really, think I am. Shit.
- Will we have to introduce ourselves? WTF am I going to say if we do? Hi, I'm a 3rd year film student from Canada, which makes me older, better at this shit than the rest of you, and gives me this funny accent so you can stop f-ing staring at me. P.S. Where did you all get that textbook?
- Must they all fill up the back rows like we're in f-ing high school? F, F, double F.
- Why have they made it so bloody cold in here? As soon as I walked in I started to yawn.
- Can I go home now?
- At some point in my life... will I ever stop whining? Crap, war movie. I hate war movies.

So deals the anxiety-sufferer/chronic-documenter with her first class -- by scribbling inanities in her notebook. Ask her... she'll show you the hard copy.

8:15 pm

My father has just witnessed an act of 100%, pure, unadulterated perfectionism. I have just finished charting out my class schedule -- a process which involved a ruler (for measuring and straight line purposes), a black marker (for definition) and coloured pencils in hues that may or may not correspond to the coloured pens I use to mark notes for each class in my agenda. Now I'm sitting at the dining room table listening to Dido and eating Starburst jelly beans in order according to light spectrum. I know, I'm sick, I need help. Don't even ask me how to eat an apple.
Dad has now passed out on the couch from exhaustion (his, not mine). Time for me to finish the red wine before he wakes up.

8:30

Wine: check!
I made muffins today. See? Who says I can't be domesticated? Just because I don't want to be, doesn't mean the possibility doesn't exist. For all the men feeling attacked right now, this is actually a girl thing. I haven't talked to one single guy while being here (I've stopped counting that one creepy guy...) -- I have however been hanging out with lots and lots... and LOTS of girls. The result is this: a general hostility towards large groups of females, and a sense of inadequacy in myself as a woman: "What? You don't actually... cook?"
The thing is, and a lot of women will agree with me here (even Paris Hilton, but I'll get to that later), it's easier sometimes (for me most of the time) to be around groups of guys, or mixed groups, because I can be pretty certain on some level I'm everything a guy wants in a girl (yes, yes, that IS what I mean). In a group of chicks, it's less certain. So the question is this: Am I everything a girl wants in a girl? Okay, now stop giggling, you know what I mean.
The other day, I said to someone that being with a big group of girls makes me feel like a guy. Now I know that sounds really weird, and I know I'm becoming a bit soused here, but I stand by it. I don't feel like a guy in the way that I want them to be attracted to me, but in the way that I feel awkward, ill at ease, and completely out of my element. I feel like I'm playing a part, and nervous that someone will notice and call me on it. I get this overwhelming urge to make stupid jokes, patronize them, and be the macho one (in other words... I feel like a guy) -- kill the spider, pick up the dead bird, jump off the highest diving board -- things that people can tell you I even did in my childhood -- things I'm happy to leave to the guys when the girls aren't around. No wonder girls find me intimidating. No wonder I have so few girl friends -- who I tend to hang out with alone. No wonder I like boys so much -- in this instance at least, they cause me a hell of a lot less angst...
Oh, and Paris Hilton? The radio station I've been listening to has this morning host named Chris, who HATES PH, and he made this joke about her, which, since they play it over and over, I can basically repeat verbatum:

"So Paris Hilton says she makes friends more easily with guys, and she says this is becuase, quote 'Girls can be kind of backstabbing.' I guess that's right Paris, I mean, because what guys do... it's sort of like stabbing, but it's more from the front."

I laugh everytime I hear him say this, and say "Not necessarily Chris... not necessarily."

Oh! Did she just go there? ... yes, yes I think she did.
Sugar and alcohol be praised. I am SO going to get home in August and realize with a sickening crunch that there are more people reading this than I think... and that they have a shiny, new, disillusioned view of their granddaughter/neice/cousin.
Namely that she is able to make A sex jokes while sitting in her apartment and drinking by herself (Dad went to bed).
Awesome.

Okay, am totally typing this on an unsecured wireless network, so will get off now before I get hacked.

Sunday, February 20, 2005

First day of school!

Thankfully I've grown out of having my picture taken on the front porch with my backpack. Thankfully I've grown out of wearing a backpack. Thankfully it's 26 degrees here and I have Tabouleh for lunch. And most thankfully of all, it's starting to look like I might only have class on Mondays and Tuesdays. How wild is that? Haha and here I thought I was going back to school...

Wish me luck *snort*

Friday, February 18, 2005

Return to Oz

More journal entries kids, hope I get them typed before my time runs out (it is weekend and am therefore in cafe instead of library because lib is still on vacation hours -- blah!)

February 17th 2005 5pm

If I could, I'd be typing this right now instead of writing it, but since I'm at home drinking beer and watching soap operas (my god I'm turning into Mr. R -- sorry buddy, secret's out), and since when the mood strikes, it strikes -- here I am writing with the Bold & the Beautiful in the background. And the reason is this: Today at lunch my dad asked me what I've learned about Australia. I tried to think of all the subtle little differences I've noticed, but all I came up with was general knowledge -- stuff anyone who's read Bill Bryson can discuss with relative humour (if you haven't I recommend you do "In a Sunburned Country" It's a good read, even if he does come off as a bit of a dirty old man -- I know the type well unfortunately -- and he totally sells Canberra short). Like Saturday I saw my first red back spider, and have subsequently checked every single spider on my balcony for red marks. And there is a hole in the ozone layer. But there's other stuff -- stuff you have to be here to know, and for some reason the beer, and the mind numbing boredom (actually, I guess there's a lot of mind numbing going on here) of B&B has reminded me of those lists of things I like to make, which followers of the website know and love so well.
So let's do it up, Australian style:

Food:
- Raisins are Sultanas, therefore Raisin Bran is Sultana Bran
- Weetabix is just Weet-bix
- pumpkin everything! pumpkin instant soup mix! what?
- 2 litres of orange juice of less than Tropicana caliber is over 5 dollars!! omg!
- peppers are capsicums
- whiskey is not rye, or whiskey, but I can't remember the word...
- they don't have good mayonnaise.

Stores
- walmart is the BIG W -- they can change their name, but I'm so still on to them.

Slang
- G'day (of course)
- she'll be right (it'll be okay)
- how you going?
- how did she go? (how did you do?)
- no worries (you're welcome)
to be honest there'll be more additions to this list, I just haven't met that many Australians yet.

Coffee
- I would have put this with food, but Australian coffee is incredibly confusing and has a high comedic value, and therefore warrants its very own section.
It's not like going into a Timmie's and ordering a large double-double: no -- as DS was trying to explain, at my request, while we were swimming the other day -- Australian coffee gets ordered with such adjectives as tall/short, white/black, flat/full, fat/skinny, red/yellow/blue, big/small, etc. etc. (okay, I've exaggerated only slightly): in other words, a statement like "I like my coffee like I like my men... (tall hot and ginger)" really applies here. However, possibly not in the way my brother is fond of putting it... (I like my women like I like my coffee, ground up and in the freezer). So far I've succeeded in ordering a cappuccino and a chai latte. And to those things I may well stick, so as not to confuse the next Tim's staff member I encounter.

February 19th 2005 11:30 pm

Well, I've just been to see "Bride and Prejudice" and can I just say, Gurinder Chadha has done it again. I grinned all the way through. It was awesome. Also, how hot is this chick? Hell, I'd marry her (although the marriage wouldn't be a terribly fulfilling one, seeing as I'm resoundingly hetero, and against the institution of marriage -- mostly because I can get a rise out of my mother once in a while, not so much anymore, I should probably give that one up -- not to mention the fact that I'm completely smitten with my coffee. heh heh. Yes, that would be the final punchline to the joke that started in the pool a week ago -- and now I'll just close the parentheses and move on).
Anyway, I've thoroughly enjoyed my first Australian movie theatre experience. Not only a good movie, but they DIDN'T HAVE 3 HOURS OF PREVIEWS AT THE BEGINNING! Hurrah! and good on them.

Cheers.

Wednesday, February 16, 2005

Like a Kid Again

My Dad's here! hurrah! He's doing the whole jet lag spacey thing (I think I see him nodding off at the computer over there hee hee), which I did when I got here. Now I totally get why the Harvies were so concerned about me (like, is this girl completely, um, sane?).
Anyway, O week is winding down here, and all the 18 year olds are recovering from their drinking binges. I've only been out once... mostly because, it being O week and all, I wasn't too interested in being groped by some inebriated kid THE SAME AGE AS MY BROTHER on the dance floor. And I don't know why, but there's this song here which prompts everyone to link arms in a circle and strip. That's right, you heard me, they take their clothes off.
I didn't know this.
I was pulled into the circle.
Some guy tried to take off my shirt.

And I was all -- excuse me? Don't we need to like, shake hands or something first? Christ. The Germans may have been forward, but I've NEVER had something like that happen before.

So the whole experience left me feeling very sober, and very old. The days when I acted like that weren't THAT long ago... why does it feel like an age?

Tuesday, February 15, 2005

To Market, To Market

Well today is Market Day here at ANU, and that means all the clubs are out in force trying to recruit as many people to their ranks as possible. Seeing as about half the clubs out there are Christian Students organizations of some shape or form, I've just spent the morning sidestepping people who are trying to get me to return to god. And since I was never with him (or anywhere in his near vicinity) in the first place, they sure had their work cut out for them.
But the Aussies sure do like their clubs. There were clubs for every possible situation/activity/role-playing game conceivable. Some of them were so far-fetched and so vague in their description of what they actually DID in their clubs, that eventually I just said "You just go out and get drunk in a group don't you?" Which of course they denied, but I know the truth.
I did however manage to locate booths for the film screening club and the literary club (thankfully neither of them associated with any religious denomination, I checked thoroughly, questioned separately etc.), which are my two activities of choice anyway, so my club requirements have been squarely met.
Normally, in my solitary little world, I disparage the idea of any group activities that don't involve things that are illegal in all 50 states... wait... 21... right, okay, I'm legal in everything I do now, in every country pretty much. Check. But anyway, clubs seem to be the Australian thing to do, so I'll jump on board -- if only to broaden my cultural horizons (by watching Hollywood movies in film club -- but an AUSTRALIAN film club... n/m).

Anyway, my days of apartment loneliness are almost over. My dad gets in tomorrow morning, and so finally I'll no longer have to have the radio/television on 24/7 to chase away the silence. However, it also means I will no longer be able to do the following things which to be honest I was enjoying while they lasted:
- showering with the door open
- eating breakfast in my underwear (and um... lunch and dinner mostly)
- leaving my crap everywhere (note to self: clean up this evening)
- eating on the floor in front of the television (I'll have to sit on the couch now)
- making expensive phone calls

But hey, it's a small sacrifice in return for ending the week and a half of bachelorette living. I'm beginning to realize I'm not really cut out to live on my own. It's nice to have someone to come home to. If I ever have to live by myself I'll definitely need to get a dog. Or maybe a parrot.

Cheers

Flabergasted

Def'n:
1. Suddenly realizing, or being proved wrong, that something you thought simply didn't exist indeed does and is alive and well (and accessible). Feeling of great surprise and overwhelming excitement/joy.
2. To be mind-blown.

There's another one for the urban dictionary, but since it's already a word that I'm just lending an extra dimension to, I don't think they'd accept. Can I start my own?

Contents:

Alcoholic-cooking
Flabergasted

Entries?

Monday, February 14, 2005

Why Valentine's Day Is Stupid (but we love it anyway)

What it's like to date me: (and here, after all my censoring, I get a little close to the bone, but at least I find fault with myself) I remember everything. And I don't mean, like, everything, I mean EVERYTHING. So, you know, you can't put ANYTHING past me. In the immortal words of P up the V, "I can smell a lie like a fart in a car." I realize this can be exhausting -- hell, it exhausts ME, but I can't help it... sometimes I wish I could forget, but I can't, and so you have to live with it.
I am also one of those chicks who gets this creepy feeling in her stomach when anyone does anything romantic. It makes me feel weird and I don't like it. I am not a naturally gracious person -- I have to work at it. I have a really hard time taking a compliment, and so people have an equally hard time paying me one.
On the other hand, I'm incredibly complicated, and so if you DON'T do romantic things... well, obviously there's something wrong there too.

This mini background brings me to Valentine's Day, and why I hate it, but feel like a loser anyway. And I'm not going to do the "Hallmark invented it" rant, frankly it's over done, poor Hallmark, they make decent movies... sometimes. But it's all -- in one day -- the dichotomy that makes me a frustrating person. I don't want it, I would like it to disappear from our range of celebrated holidays, but at the same time, I always feel like a doof when I'm, say, sitting in a computer lab at 11 pm, in a residence hall full of chicks dressed up as nurses (ahem, valentine's day party, Helloooo nurse!), typing this introspective bullshit onto my website, on Valentine's Day, when the radio is spewing crap like "Buy her lingerie at Intimate Expressions and she'll love you for it!" I don't WANT anyone to be buying me lingerie -- but that doesn't mean I don't WANT it. Do you see? Feel free to leave and do something more useful at this point. Go and have sex. It's Valentine's Day. Go. Goodness (and everyone in this computer lab) knows that I'm not going to.
The thing is: I don't think I'm alone in this sentiment. I mean, how crappy is it that people are FORCED into doing something nice for someone by an institution (is that the right word, I have no idea, it sounds ranty)? And how even MORE crappy is it that we've all been tricked into these elevated expectations for one day of the year? Where the HELL is the spontaneity in that?
In the end, the whole thing isn't romantic at all. Boo to Valentine's and its enforced insecurity.

It's really too late and I'm making no sense. How am I ever going to write an essay ever again? My argument sucks, but anyway, you get it.

Wow, two posts in one day.
Where's that TRN?

Sunday, February 13, 2005

Phew!

For a minute I was afraid that I would never again be able to put anything on this website... the tragedy! But hurrah! I have triumphed over the quirks of this crazy network and its cookie handling, and now bring to you: My Movements of the Last Two Weeks and a bit. I know you've all been waiting anxiously for it.
It's funny you know, how attached to this site I am -- more than ever I live my life in narrative, thinking how I would write about one situation or another here. Alas, my narrative life in no way resembles the one up here anymore. Things have become complicated, and that's where the pesky self-censoring comes in. There are so many things now that I can't write about online because of the people I know are in my audience - my family, friends... and under age children - and I don't have the guts to put it all up there and possibly hurt them. So I've got this nifty internet half-life. I hope you enjoy. It makes me admire other bloggers who just lay it all out there, for the world to read. It makes my site seem mundane... but then I'm just not that in to drama, so I guess this is okay. I'd rather make people laugh than anything else, and I think I may achieve that from time to time, so that makes me happy. Plus, JHR gets a laugh when I write things in code that only she can understand, and there's no better person to make laugh than she.
Anyway, on to it -- what I've been up to. I've written a couple journal entries out in my actual REAL PAPER AND PEN journal, so I've decided just to type them up here for starters.

February 6th 2005

In the airport, checking the same flight as me, are many Brits and Russians dressed very bizarrely. One man, watching vaguely as his bottled blonde wife totters around in stilettos after their toddler son, has the word "RICH" embroidered across the ass of his jeans. My mother kindly suggests that perhaps its his name. I hug her goodbye, pass through the departure gates, and spend the next half hour thinking up 4 letter words better suited to his skinny ass:
LAME comes to mind immediately. They get on the plane for Moscow. I begin to understand.
Then I watch a young British couple and reflect idly that Europe has completely disproved my theory that people end up with partners of relatively equal attractiveness. It just doesn't seem to work that way on this continent. In this particular case, the girl has done very well for herself. But then I'm being entirely superficial... The old man sitting directly behind me smells very strongly of, well, old man. My first stinky old fat man of the trip. Another thing I wonder -- why do stinky people choose to sit as close as possible to otehr humans, even though there are plenty of other seats further away? The other people in this part of the lounge have spaced themselves evenly - far removed from eachother. They don't look stinky at all.
While I'm at my wondering -- why does the woman with the announcer feel she needs to yell? It's already loud enough. Why, the further East you go, do languages begin to sound more and more aggressive?
Oh well, no answers there, but I'm on my way to a place where really none of this probably matters. Hurrah! Now all I have to worry about is whether or not I'm going to be eaten by anything. A pleasant shift in anxieties.

February 12th 2005 7:15 am
Music: Ben Lee "If you gamble everything for love you're gonna be alright."

I've been up for 3 hours already watching music videos. The jet lag is on and off. I can stay up for 20 hours one day and 10 the next. Yesterday I was out at 5pm, on the couch.
The sun has just risen and there are 6 hot air balloons floating above the lake. The view from my apartment is incredible. Every once in a while a big white bird (I think it's a cockatoo?) flies screeching by. Yesterday, while waiting in line for enrolment, I watched four red and blue parrots fighting eachother in a gum tree.

(aside: One of the balloons has just made its way almost right up to my window, and as I was sitting in the living room in my underwear, I've run and put some shorts on, cheeky bastard)

On Sunday, I left Cyprus after a calm week of preparation. Although I was in a beautiful country, rich with archaeological interest and orange and lemon trees in fruit on every street, in every courtyard (I'm going to make a list of strange things I've been hit in the head with this year -- fireworks, oranges), my mind was already in Australia, with all the things I've had to do this past week. With the great help of a friend in Canberra, we were able to secure an amazing apartment really close to the ANU campus. So, after 34.5 hours of straight travelling, I turned up at the Canberra bust stop at 11:30 am on Tuesday, and was met by my landlords, a charming elderly couple who drove me around all day to get everything settled with the apartment and groceries. They even took me out for lunch (I had a "Ham and Cheese Deluxe" sandwich -- the only thing deluxe about it was that they remembered the two key ingredients, ham and cheese: things are SO expensive here!), otherwise I'm sure I would have starved, because I'm still finding the downtown confusing after half a week of walking around, and as it is, subsisting on a diet of instant soup, cereal and mangoes.
Tuesday and Wednesday were two of the loneliest days ever. Orientation didn't start till Thursday and I had no phone, no internet, and BA lost one of my suitcases (thankfully not the one with my clothes in it). I spent a lot of time wandering around begging phone calls from people so that I could locate my baggage. Then Thursday rolled around and all in one day I met some great Dutch girls (DS, who said "I can make Pad Thai for dinner tonight." Hurrah!), got my phone hooked up, talked to my dad, made another exhorbitantly expensive but at that point essential phone call, spent some time by the pool getting a tan (okay, maybe a bit of a burn) and reading a Trashy Romance novel (yes, you know what it means when I start reading the TRN's -- this one is 750 pages long). The last two days have been such a relief. I feel like I'm back in reality, and even though the next 5 months are stretching out in front of me, they don't look endless. I can do this, and I can have a great time. Classes don't start for another week, but I'm so excited to get started, to finally get back to it.
For now though, it's 8:15, and I'm going to run down to the gym (thank god finally a gym -- no more slug!).

~~~

So there you have it kids. The dumbed-down details of my first week in Oz. A more interesting e-mail will follow once I've got settled into classes, promise.
Right now I have to go figure out my schedule (what to do about ALL the conflicts, argh), and then I'm heading back home for lunch -- well, really for the pool. My skin is warm from the sun, remind me again why we live in Canada? It ain't for the climate, I can tell you.
Pictures will follow as soon as I can, I know I've been a bit behind with those lately -- need to update ones from Germany, France, Cyprus and now Australia. Stay tuned.

Cheers

Thursday, February 10, 2005

Safe and Sound

So for all of you who were worrying that I got taken off the plane in Bangkok and thrown in prison, I happily did not (rejoice!), and am infact in Canberra, trying to sort out my life for the next 5 months. When I've written out a post to type up on the campus computers you'll have the story.

Love to all