Under Your Tweeds You Sweat Like A Teenager

I think I was accidentally flirting with a boy in my class.
Now, that I think about it, though, it would kind of make law more interesting for the rest of the semester. Except, most likely, I’ll still leave halfway through class.
Once your name is marked off the roll, then who cares?

I hate that my tutors tend to err on the side of caution and assume that I’m stupid.
I know it’s all my own fault, but it still kind of bums me out to see them recoil in surprise ever so slightly when I answer a question (it’s always the ones that I thought were obvious) that no one else will answer.
I should participate because participation, if nothing else, asserts your presence. I just kind of like observing things. I just kind of think I’m ever so slightly introspective when I shouldn’t be.

I guess it bums me out, but not enough to give me a complex. I’m such a fricking pseudo-martyr. Maybe I thrive on the knowledge that I’m completely misunderstood. Maybe I am actually quite stupid.

I really do like that class, though. I like all of my classes, almost. Just, maybe, not quite as much as I love German.

I won a double pass to a German film at the Dendy and it was brilliant if only because it successfully combined my two majors.
Pretty much, it illustrated to me that journalists shouldn’t write too much about reactions against the new face of facism because they’ll inevitably form their own gang and go crazy and cut off all of their hair. Just like Britney.
Especially if they’re in Germany in the 1970s.
So, you know, I’ll keep an eye out for that.

Speaking of crazy, though.
I think there are a few people who tend to look at me like I’m insane, but you know I’m not.
Is the word officially ‘kooky’? Do you have a lower opinion of me based on that? Would that lower me in the eyes of a regular member of society? Would it lead me to be shunned? Would it open me up to ridicule? That’s defamation, Holmes.

When people think I’m weird, I guess things can be a little bit easier.

I made this playlist that I really only listen to when I’m walking to uni, or something. I keep forgetting what I put on it, so everytime a song comes on I smile.
They tend to have odd timing.
Yesterday, leaving class it started pouring. It was okay, though, because I had my umbrella.
I was walking up the hill, and my shoes were soaked, and it was cold but nice and suddenly Rob Thomas started crooning into my ear about how we were pretty much seven inches from the midday sun. Santana makes that song the epitome of mid-summer. Listening to it in the middle of a street amidst the pouring rain was a novel sensation. Nice, though.

It has awkward songs that I love, despite the fact that I was first introduced to them through Dawson’s Creek (before Pacey and Joey broke up, so it was still cool). I love it so much, in fact, that I’m pretty sure it’s my ringtone. I’m also pretty sure that people may be embarrassed for me if they hear my phone ring.

Anyway, so in the next few weeks I am looking forward to getting a bunch of assignments done, to dressing up as Minnie Mouse (with success…I have a completely worked out costume), to seeing some stuff live, to seeing some stuff not live, to watching some Scrubs (again, again, I know), to watching some Scrubs in German, to having plenty of lovery German classes to attend, to seeing Abby (always exciting), to having coffee dates, movie dates, fun dates.

I mean, if Swine Flu doesn’t strike me down first.
(I sneezed, I’m scared).

You’re Standing On My Neck

I said ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye’ to my Rudd money last week. It was kind of sad, but pretty much it went straight back to the Government (where it actually belongs) and paid off just a little bit more of my HECS debt.

I found out that Hamburg might hopefully be an actually viable option for me, and if it is, then there’s definitely nowhere else I’d rather be in Germany.
Apparently the University of Hamburg is developing a relationship with the Journalism department of my university which means that I could do subjects that would actually be kind of relevant. I can do six months of my degree there, even, after I finish my year long foray into the wilderness. So I could be overseas for eighteen months. Intense.
Tempting.

My mother told me that she had three rules: leave home when you turn eighteen, don’t get tattoos (and like I would), and most importantly, don’t get married overseas.

Although there is little chance of me wanting to defy her first two decrees, I am more and more convinced that I’ll be a rebel against the third. Especially if I manage to spend so much of my early twenties alone in Europe. Eighteen months, though, is a long, long time.

My mum said she’d visit me (with my brothers tagging along) for Christmas. My dad said that he’d come visit and take me to England (free ride). The only fears that I have about moving to Germany are based around the idea that it won’t come quickly enough.

I’ve been watching Daria. Kind of funny. Kind of 90s. Kind of kooky.

Awesome.

Love Love Love Me Already

You know what is kind of fun but also sad? It’s when you listen to a song about feelings and you’re like ‘Song, You’ve Just Justified My Reality’.

It’s okay sometimes when you listen to a song to help feel how you’re feeling.
Man, those kids are so wise with their ambiguous prose.

I have this one particular problem, though.
There’s this song on this album that I’m digging (maybe but I’m not sure). Except for this one song! It’s such a nice song, but I can’t help listening to it and feeling guilty.

It’s not like it’s telling me that I’m a bad person for doing bad things that I kind of think are funny. It’s more like, sad. She sings about being sad and confused and it makes me feel kind of guilty all the time.
It’s more like she makes me feel like I felt a while ago and so I’m feeling bad for being so mopey. I didn’t like being mopey in hindsight.

I am so glad that I found this song now, however, instead of a few months ago. Oh My Gosh that would have been a wet paper bag that I would not find my way out of.

Music. Mmm. Powerful.

I Didn’t See You Leave

You know what? I love German. German is my favourite thing ever. In fact, I wish I WAS German.

There is just one little tiny thing that kind of irritates me.
It’s so tiny that it’s only two letters long. It’s, um, um.

Turns out that I can mumble those two little letters anymore because um means something in particular. In fact, it means (a)round.

Sorry, German people. I’m confusing in any language.

Look At Her, Falling Out Of A Taxi Cab

Last night was Ben Kweller.
Ben Kweller was underwhelming, but I wasn’t particularly enthused about the excursion yesterday morning either.

I guess I’m glad that I went still, but maybe even would have been better off alone.
I’m kind of melancholy, but really I’m just tired. I didn’t sleep very well.

There was a party in the alley, would you like to come? Bring your own little chairs and your own cream bun.
I don’t know. I shouldn’t get mad at people, but the alley outside my window echoes. The party seemed like it was supposed to be in the house but it spilled out onto the street with music and beeps and honks and all sorts of unsavoury, sleepless noises.

I don’t really care. I’d just be happier if I had slept.

I’m pretty excited for tonight. I’m pretty excited for tomorrow.
I’m pretty excited for Tuesday. I’m going to make some pizza. Mmm pizza.

I’m A Blue Period Picasso

I may fall victim to slight exaggeration slightly often.

I maybe wasn’t having the worst day ever, I maybe was just kind of upset that the douche bag boyfriend of my cheating heart room mate is back after a (wonderful, blissful, long-desired) absence of only a few days.
I am not having a problem with happy couples, I swear, and I wouldn’t be quite so dismayed if they actually liked each other, if they actually tried to remember that other people lived in the apartment and most importantly, if HE ACTUALLY REMEMBERED THAT HE DOESN’T LIVE IN OUR APARTMENT ANYMORE.
Just because he paid rent over two years ago doesn’t really mean that he should act like he still does. He *may* have bought a can opener once, but that doesn’t mean he should touch all of our things like they’re his.
I had a dream where I yelled at him and yelled at him and yelled at him and I woke up so happy like you could not believe.

I don’t even care, except I know he has his own house, and presumably the people in it don’t really quite hate him so much (although I wouldn’t include his girlfriend in that) and maybe he should go there instead of coming here and LOUDLY TALKING ABOUT THE FURNITURE HE JUST BOUGHT.

Frick.

Anyway, so I love my flatmates. Well, at least one of them.
I am so upset because he’s going to move out because he says he doesn’t want to go to jail. He doesn’t want to stay and kill someone in our flat because he thinks he’s going to jail. To be honest, it’s true, he probably will kill someone. We have horrible flatmates.

I got a new free book. It was awesome. I love my unpaid work experience, almost. Yes. Brill.

I’m not super fussed.

Frick On A Stick

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. Worst fucking day ever. But I always look on the bright side of life. Timmy is making me cookies.

I Took Something And It Feels Like Karate

So, life is pretty good, right?

Boys are pretty nice to me, now. So much for thinking I was a pariah. I just looked too sad all the time.

I didn’t get to get the job I was hoping for, but I’m not too fussed. It WAS a good interview. Maybe they’ll have another one sometime. Oprah says that it wasn’t meant to be.

I think that despite everything I’m going to do what I was always going to do. It looks good still, I think. I hope. I’ve been there before.

I’m kind of sick still, but now it’s to the point where I’m kind of sounding sick. That’s okay. I just hope I don’t choke to death in public. I already ran out of a lecture yesterday morning (just in case). I actually almost did choke to death when I was hiding in the toilet cubicle. Good save!

People with funny names are funny. I wish I had a funny name.
Not just a name that rhymes with Jizz (so many people appreciate that though), or that sounds like Anal when you say it wrong, Mr Professor.

Today I have German! Yes!
Then this afternoon I have Sarah! And Timmy! Yes.
Good days ahead, good days.