Sydney Life

At a big birthday bash not so long ago I wore my crazy-psychedelic-Felicity Shagwell boots, thinking the occasion warranted their special guest appearance. After a barrage of judgements had erupted I admitted to the commentators that I have a bit of a boot fetish. The male with whom I was seated didn’t miss a beat, countering, “So do I now.”

At once my boots had gone from being a functional item of clothing to a conversation starter and potential man-magnet. This got me thinking about what we wear and why, and how this is reflected on our beloved Sydney Uni campus. Which I guess adds another element to the humble boots…. the ability to incite deep contemplation.

I’m learning German, and not at university. It was a decision based on me having the ‘ants-in-the-pants’ syndrome where I can't seem to sit still (squash, futsall and chess arent enough!) mixed with the desire to challenge myself and continue learning post-uni era.

Want proof? I’ve made a comprehensive list of all the different types of procrastination you can partake in. And then I wrote a blog about it.

So...

One of the great things about growing up, at least in my understanding, is that it leads to moderation. Who can forget those heady days of believing in the tooth fairy, Santa Claus, and the Easter Bunny (or maybe some less denominational non-existent sprite)? It is, perhaps the mark of leaving childhood, I believe, that you decide to get rid of these ideas. Sure, Christmas loses some of the magic, maybe loosing a tooth doesn’t become such a big deal anymore (or maybe it becomes an incredibly expensive deal), but it’s a mark of maturity.

Walking to Circular Quay from Uni on Friday, I was distracted by a toddler waiting at the traffic lights. She was a pretty average toddler – blonde, small, and had just calmly pulled her skirt down around her ankles. When the lights changed to green, she casually pulled her skirt back up before taking her mum’s hand to cross the road.
“What are you doing?” mum had only just noticed her daughters' state of undress.
“Straightening my undies,” replied the girl. No further explanation required.

Affirmative Action was put in place last year for the University of Sydney Union (USU) Board of student directors. The premise is that the USU Board must always comprise of at least 50% female-identifying students. Questions must be asked why this year, despite AA, only three women nominated for Board and all were appointed without going to election because there were too few candidates. It is a disappointing result for democracy. But moreover, it is a disappointing result for the women on this campus.

I don’t know about you guys but I’m feeling a little frazzled. Week nine at uni, like a monsoon rain cloud, hits right on time with the same intensity every semester. You know it’s coming. You can feel it in the air. Suddenly computer labs are at breaking point, all the good books are due back in June and four hours sleep becomes the new ‘eight.’ Regardless of preparation, it’s impossible to stay completely dry under that umbrella when the rain falls in sheets from every which way.

The pie machine’s making another guest appearance. While I was sitting up in Manning with a friend, I watched as the line for the mystic pie machine grew from zero, to one, to two, to three. Amazing, I thought, people actually use the thing. Shrapnel’s slotted in and the patron watches on bewildered at the black magic; two minutes later, a steaming hot pie (some say the origin of the pies are divine) drops down, and one’s suspension of disbelief is broken. Having a mind that doesn’t tend to stay on topic for long, my thoughts give way to something of greater importance.

A lot of people ask how much it is possible to work without sacrificing your studies. The quick answer to this question is “no more than 10-20 hours a week”. It’s much easier to find a job if you have one or more week days off. A lot of my arts and commerce friends have at least one day off (I know someone with 3 days off.. I mean when it gets to the point where my weekends have become equivalent to his days at uni... it’s just ridiculous).

Not one to be encumbered by my growing list of not-so-private crushes, I add another Mr Darcy to the fold.