Sydney Life

I am in a new relationship. It is new and exiting and he constantly impresses me. This freshness, however, does lead to some serious misunderstandings. There are moments when I find we just don’t know what we want from one another. My first thought was that perhaps he was a little stubborn and temperamental. That isn’t the problem though – it’s just that we come from completely different backgrounds and occasionally we fail to understand eachother.

But I’m committed to making it work, because this one is special. I can feel it in my fingertips. He is the one that can, and will, make my life complete.

His name is Mac and I love him!

To dispel the myth that people doing “intense” courses like pharmacy have no life other than their studies, I went to see Phantom of the Opera at Lyric Theatre, Star City on Saturday night. Well, maybe not to dispel that myth specifically. But it was a good opportunity to take some time out from pharmacy, pharmacy and more pharmacy. So how was it?

We’re fast approaching the end of winter—the days are getting longer and the temperature’s rising. Everyone’s starting to wear T-shirts or singlets and bringing a warm cardigan or two in case of that freezing gust of wind. I’ve even seen some brave souls start to wear their thongs (flip-flops), even if it’s only the thongs die-hards. With it also comes the end of the winter cold and flu season. Studying pharmacy, this holds greater significance for me than just being a sniffling, coughing, miserable victim of a member of the rhinovirus genus of the picornavirus family of viruses...

Speaking from the vast experience of one who is oft described as a person who thinks with their stomach (then again, I am a teenaged male) I can confidently say that the procurement of food is one of the most important and enjoyable past times a uni student can ever experience… err. Pretty much. Anyway, to cut straight to the steak… or point, the purpose of this blog is to share my favourite eateries in and around the university, in terms of value, taste, and most importantly, coffee quality. In addition, since I truly want to cover this in detail, I’ll be releasing this ginormous blog as a two-part special, so if you like, you can think of it as one of those B-grade mini-series they put on free to air every now and again.

I have not used the internet for an entire week, and let me tell you it’s been liberating. I have instead been spending my time in the freezing artic terrain of Richmond, rehearsing with the Australian Youth Orchestra. Being stuck in a place with fairly terrible food makes you think quite a lot about what you eat, and you realise that almost everyone has some kind of “weird food” addiction. One double bass player is addicted to Tang , my deskie has a fetish for 95% cocoa Lindt chocolate squares. Apparently I am more weird than most because of my love for Vegimite and Honey together on toast. But the weird food that really, really gets me revved is plastic cheese.

Like a melodic mantra these words echo through Aussie Stadium, in the first of a series of concerts across the globe driven by the need to address “a climate in crisis”. Newcomers Missy Higgins & John Butler join the iconic Paul Kelly on stage, and the audience sing along, willing this lovely dream to come true.

Little hands and toes twinkled under the ballet studio white lights...from the side of the room, I watched my cousin perform her best demi-plies with a smile that stretched from ear to ear.

It didn’t seem long ago that I was fluttering around in my pink tights and pinned hair with dreams of being a ballerina too.

But like most children, my interests transformed with the most unpredictable speed…and that was ok.

It wasn’t a sign of weakness or misdirection. I was only a young girl with no shame in changing her mind or following a whim.

A lone female figure sits hunched over the old oak desk, wrapped in blankets to make up for the lack of heating. Having given up on the previous pursuit of staring into space, she now taps away in an apparently productive manner.

Time – 2:47 am
Cups of tea – 7 (and counting)
Times I’ve checked Facebook today – 6 (very good!)
‘Oh no! A chipped nail... better file it’ – twice
Meals – 1 ½ (poor nutrition, tut tut)
Cans of ‘Mother’ (a fantastic Red Bull substitute) – 1

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...

The human memory is like a bit like a two-year-old iPod – temperamental, capricious, and an increasingly short ‘play’ time. On a good day, your memory might do you proud, spewing up pages of Music History 3 notes and replaying entire piano concertos within the warm fuzzy confines of your cranium. Other times, your memory works for about 30 seconds every five minutes, and for some reason refuses to play anything bar KanYe West’s ‘Gold Digger’, apparently completely at random.

But there is one function of our memories that (I like to think) separates man from machine. And that is our ability to retain copious amounts of Interesting, Questionable, and Utterly Useless Facts (Henceforth IQUUFs).

A common affliction among University students, Facebook-itis ranks as the third most prevalent of student diseases behind none other than The Big Night and Procrastinator-Fever. In some journals it is in fact cross-listed with Procrasinator-Fever and to a larger extent, MySpace-Mania.

Facebook-itis can seem like a bit of harmless fun at first but can develop into a nasty addiction. It is a slow and painful killer of one’s study regime and academic marks. It is also unfortunately very contagious, especially amongst Generation-Y who all practically live through the internet.

When it gets down to the nitty gritty, most people have something which inspires them to stand on a metaphorical soapbox. This week, I found mine. It concerns the prejudice which a certain class within our society (I’ll call them ‘The Shod’) bear toward the minority (For clarity, they can be ‘The Un-Shod”).

It all started on Wednesday - I finished my piece, pausing appropriately at the end of the last note. My teacher walked over.

“Better, Liisa. I can see you’ve worked a bit on intonation.” My shoulders returned to the normal, relaxed level - a moment too soon, as it turned out.

“BUT,” my teacher continued, “No more performing in bare feet.”

Following the furore that Richard Dawkins’ latest book “The God Delusion” whipped up, it seems that the Catholics on Campus could not resist, and have decided to run an “educational” event called “The Dawkins Delusion”. I could, and still cannot, contain my outrage at such an event, but in the interest of pluralism and free speech, I suppose everyone is allowed to have their own opinion, no matter how blatantly scientifically unprovable it may be, so long as they don’t push it on the rest of us.

It’s twenty to midnight and I cannot help plunging into an existential crisis, the kind you are far more prone to when it’s so quiet you can hear the fridge humming and the crickets outside. But it’s not the silence that’s killing me, its what’s sitting across from me on the couch….

Some may call it ‘child’s play’ but I wonder whether there is a level of skill you loose as you grow older. Not everything can get better, more sophisticated, and developed, can it?

I have to find some excuse or scientific explanation for the fact that I am an absolute failure at “Bop it”. As I desperately grab at the buttons on this battery operated children’s game I keep one ear cocked for any sounds of stirring from the kids I am babysitting. I have saved my tomfoolery for after I put them to bed, and thank god because my highest score seems to have stagnated on 9. Which makes me feel like a right twit when you put it into context - the young one now slumbering (in a room decorated with frog pictures) has his highest score set at 188.

Compared to the all singing, all dancing, all liquor drinking antics of ‘Strangelove: The Musical’ on Friday night the State Elections on Saturday was definitely as beige as nursing home beige can get.

First of all, props to the cast, the writers, the composers and anyone else involved in Strangelove. Nothing completes another week of uni like a musical comedy involving the imminent threat of all-out Soviet-US nuclear warfare, a doomsday device and an abnormal obsession with bodily fluids.

Morris Iemma and Peter Debnam could seriously have taken some of these pointers on board when they were campaigning…maybe not. A chorus line of politicians would sour anyone’s milk. While Peter called to congratulate Morris on his win last night, I couldn’t help but wonder what their conversation was about…

I only remember two things from Year 7 German. 'Das ist mein hamburger', which is quite self-explanatory, and the title of this blog, which very accurately describes the state of my computer at the moment. And is probably spelt all wrong. Go on Simon, correct me. You know you want to.

Isn't it sad when your whole life crashes down along with your computer?

I didn't think I was one of those people that were so attached to their phone/computer/iPod until one actually broke… Well the first step to getting better is admitting you have a problem, right?

Hi, I'm Asako. I'm a techno-holic, and here's my story.

What have I been doing with all my free time after exams? Writing blogs, lazing around, eating, and watching movies! Oh yes and checking online twice a day every day for exam results...

And I’ve discovered the three fundamental types of movies. There may be more, and if so, feel free to add and correct me...

I want to introduce a new term to your lexicon of expressions. CFS –Clothing Fatigue Syndrome. My friend Liss coined this term 6 months into her overseas travel after disparagingly opening her backpack each day to find the same dirty worn out clothes. The treatment of this ailment is a quick fix and involves breaking the budget and splurging on a new outfit.

(an acute hangover-related illness, often involving headaches and vomiting. In some cases memory loss will occur, though most common symptoms are lethargy and inability to concentrate or compose any form of recognisable speech.

It doesn’t bite, it doesn’t sting, and it won’t swell up the next day, but symptoms of BN are still quite easily detectable.)

As of today, I've officially been a “resident” in Canada for 3 months. While it might not seem like that long, it’s been long enough for me to completely fall in love with the place. Vancouver is beautiful, Canadians are impossible not to get along with and despite what you may have heard to the contrary, Ice Hockey is definitely the best sport ever. In the midst of my love affair with my adopted home I have but one small grievance: Mother Nature is quite literally raining on my parade.

The takers of the world. How do they live with themselves?

So, you know when you see yourself on video or hear yourself on tape, and the first, nay, ONLY thought that pops into your mind is, “GOOD GOD, HOW DO PEOPLE STAND THAT VOICE?”

Well it could be worse.

Beebop had been slinging insults at Cowboy Dave all afternoon. A heady mixture of Coco Pops and Mornings with Kerri-Ann had left the beady eyed monster sugared-up, over-stimulated and just aching to buy a lovely new-yet-retro-style Mixmaster for the kitchen.

Cowboy Dave was livid: he’d just been dumped by his girl Foxy McLovelyface the night before. Slighted by woman, spitting testosterone like nobody’s business, Dave was looking for a bit of a rumble. He mounted his trusty mare Plastic Fantastic and yelled to Beebop.

“Why don’t you come over here and say that?”

Q: “Tuesday’s coming. Did you bring your coat?”

A: “I live in a giant bucket.”

.......But I love her for it.

Last Sunday, we went on the Spring Cycle, otherwise known as a 50km bike ride...... Read on for the gruesome details.

Last week, I attended my first 21st birthday party! It was very exciting - here’s the lowdown plus some other stuff I’ve been up to recently....

After three weeks of great events, the Verge Arts Festival comes to a close.

With faculty reviews, concerts, exhibitions, awards, radio broadcasting and a screening of Harry Potter in the main quad, Verge has become an unmissable event in the student calendar.

On Thursday the 7th of September, officially the best night I've had in Sydney yet, four unassuming kids from the Blue Mountains (including one of my best friends) took out the Band Comp final held at Manning, leaving with $2500 in prize money and a legion of new fans (or "Cloud Converts" as they're becoming known). Following in the footsteps of Band Comp big names such as The Vines, Youth Group, Frenzal Rhomb and Tim Freedman (think the Whitlams), Cloud Control is making quite a name for themselves in the local indie/powerpop scene, racking up considerable airtime on FBI radio and lining up gigs like they're going out of fashion...

Cloud Control L-R: Heidi Lenffer on piano, Ulrich Lenffer on drums, Al Wright on guitar and Jeremy Kelshaw on bass.

I emerged from my Honours thesis-writing hibernation for a split-second, and found myself reading this story about a recent controversy where a burlesque performer (read: stripper) in balloon-based costume was hired as entertainment for a forum on Climate Change. Apparently, lots of women walked out of the forum.

As a pro-feminist, I've got my opinions on this key debate in feminism - often pitted as anti-porn vs. sex-positive feminist positions.

Last week I did something I haven’t done since November last year….I went back to the Cumberland Campus at Lidcombe for uni. After 20 weeks of prac work in the hospitals and 9 weeks of glorious holiday, it was finally time to start the last 7 weeks of my undergraduate degree in Physiotherapy.

I can’t really complain. I only have 4 days of uni , not the usual 5, plus I am learning how to manipulate backs and best of all I get to visit the famous Cumberland lolly shop (where students get to stock up on their favourite lollies to help get them through long lectures!)

Last week, I got tickets to see the Red Hot Chili Peppers, so I was over the moon. As it turns out, my happiness was extremely short lived. I was going to contain my bad day rant to the highlights I recounted in a comment I left on Bailee's post, but seeing as it spilled over to Tuesday as well, I thought an entire blog would be necessary. Let’s recap on my week so far...

Keren’s post, 'The single scene' , once again sparked my mind and encouraged me to write on another of the world’s little known minorities – The Zoroastrians. (I owe her a drink for all the times she’s flamed my creative consciousness)

I am going to let you in on a big secret. About me. You’re privy to my innermost thoughts and desires. And this is perhaps one of my biggest. Some people will think I’m strange, maybe even totally weird, but I can still hide behind the anonymity of my blog. Furthermore, I feel that I’m ready. I’m ready to confront the world, and show them my love. Are you ready for it, world? My heart is pounding as I write these words, but they’re coming slowly. Here it comes – I love Mongolian Throat singing.

Keren’s post about “It’s time to dream” really interested me, and inspired me to write one of my own on the topic. Indigenous issues fascinate me, and the ongoing struggle that Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Australians have in mainstream Australian society is particularly interesting.

So it’s ten past 12 and I’m sitting in my college computer lab wondering whether it’s better to lie in bed and think about things or sit at a computer and actually write about them. Today has been pretty full on for second week, but instead of feeling tired I feel energised and excited about everything! I know, it sounds nerdy, and maybe it is, but having just filled up almost every available slot in my diary for the next week, instead of freaking out I’m actually looking forward to everything that’s coming up… to the point that I’m having trouble sleeping. Yes, it’s true, I’ve got the uni bug (no, not that bug), and I’m loving it…

What is it with Sydney University and reality TV?

Sydney's Latest Contribution to Reality TV: Max from BB

That’s right. I’m back. It’s been a while, I know. Technology screwed me over for some time, and then the faceless terror of exams came hurtling into my humble life, leaving me with no eyes (they fell out after late night study sessions) and a dowager’s hump (all that craning over, searching for books in Fisher). So, what have I, as a blossoming young first year, learnt from the past semester at university? Too much, that is for sure.

Ok, so it’s exam time and I’m holding a bit of resentment towards the world, and feeling a teensy bit sour. Perfect time to compile a list of the things that really piss me off in life. (In order to remain positive, I’ve included some ways to combat them).

When I was fourteen, my best friend and I had a “letter book,” in which we would write each other little blurbs about what was going on in our lives at that time. It didn’t occur to us that we saw each other everyday at school and talked to each other everyday after school, thus making the letter book somewhat redundant. Nevertheless, we continued our correspondence, and each entry included a brief description of our loves, hates, crushes and happenings. As we were French students at the time, we called this section, “Moi A Ce Moment,” or “Me at the Moment.” So, here is my July edition: