Sydney Life

Like Asako I’m pretty behind in my readings and I’m sure that by now (based on a Dickens novel being an average of 550 pages) I’m 1500+ pages behind across all my subjects. Man down! And blogging about it, and the past few weeks of my (I wish it were magical) life is some form of redemption, right? Either way here’s a selection of situations and musings for your enjoyment.

• I’ve moved out to Leichhardt, more like room sitting, while my friend’s off somewhere (I really don’t know where) for the next month or so. It’s good to be fully independent and liking not having to pay $30 cab fares to get home after late nights out. Oh, and the house cat writes half my essays jumping all over the keyboard; what more can I ask for!
• I feel like one ant crawling on the ground that people just want to step on. Deconstructionist psychoanalytical queer theory was the first foot that came down. My bank statement was the next.
• Those microsleeps don’t just happen while behind the wheel. They happen in lectures, they happen when talking to friends, they happen to me surprisingly regularly these days. And it worries me. I find it worrying (amusing nonetheless) that three pages of a 2000-word essay consisted of a single string of ‘m’s; must’ve slipped into a microsleep with the finger still on the ‘m’ key. Take that Baudelaire, that’s what I think of you and ‘modernismmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm….’ Anymore of these situations and it could become cliché.
• There are sheep on the third floor of a Vet building down Science Rd. My vet friends believe that the liberation of these sheep will only follow in the advent of an annexing of Arts students from the university so they can graze upon the Quad lawns.
• (Scene: friends’ house in Camperdown) It’s not kosher to wake up in the middle of the night to realise that what you thought was the cat on your legs were actually two cockroaches making you screen like a little girl. Thus the morning was spent in the deployment of an all-out attack on an unseen menace. To quote Bush, “I wish I wasn’t the war president. Who the heck wants to be a war president? I don't.” But in dire situations such as these, war on the insect populus is inexorable.
• Never jog while watching The Chaser on your iPod; you’re sure to cause some form of chaos on the road.

So the moral of this post? I feel like watching Zoolander and getting myself an orange mocha frappachino.