Please Don’t Tell Me To Do The Math

Today I was kind of sad when I got to German.
I forgot we were going to have a sub and I was pretty sure none of my friends were coming.
Except then they did and lalala, I was happy.
Except then the sub was terrible and spent hours telling me the difference between mussen and darfen (I think, I couldn’t pay attention).
Except then I spent the whole time I was there drawing in my notebook and the pictures are pretty nice.

Afterwards there was time, there is always time to kill (who wants to do uni work?) so we went on a pleasant stroll down the Strasse in search of a coffee shop so that we could wile away some of the hours. Except then we ran into a pub and I said “oh they have giant jenga” and then we went inside and I was worried that they didn’t have giant jenga.

They did, but it was out the back, so we chilled and I drank some beers and then the nice barman brought it out while we minded the bar (we had to yell “he’ll be back in a minute” at people) and then we played four games with three different tower styles (style two was awesome) and we all lost one game each, and I only lost ONE game, so I didn’t lose.

We were talking about stuff, ’cause it’s fun. They were making fun of me, and they said “so are you the one in the group that always gets picked on?” and I said “no hahahaha I am usually the mean one” and they stared at me in disbelief. “No, Elizabeth, I don’t believe you”.

Pretty nice.

I pretty much like when people call me Elizabeth, it’s about my favourite name to be called (except for wispa, but that’s only from my mother and that’s a long story, I think).

I am in a listless mood, so do you want a list?
Aha! Too bad!

My favourite things. A list.
1. being called Elizabeth by people
2. having people look into my eyes and say “wow what colour are they?” (especially if they disagree and think they’re green)
3. having people think my eyelashes are fake
4. having to look up to people because they’re intoxicatingly tall
5. ummm unicorns

Oh MY GOD. I forgot my dog. She’s my favourite thing/person/being in the entire fricking world. I’ll never love you more than I love my dog. This feels like I’m turning into Soko (but I probably wouldn’t love anyone more than the Beatle’s White Album either).
I kind of want to go back to Kansas and see my Toto.

Anyway, best day ever. Do I tend to exaggerate?

Twenty Miles Of Wilderness

In theory, I should be getting ready for work. I really do not want to just now, though.
I may kind of really like it, but I do spend stretches of time doing nothing and it makes me go insane. I would happily fold seventy thousand pieces of paper into the exact size of an envelope so that the letter head is at THE EXACT RIGHT PLACE. Just something, yess?

Also, it is 7.28am on a Monday morning and I have to get out and go go because there’s a bus and I don’t know. I might like it, but I hate Mondays.

ANYWAY, so I am completely blanking on whatever I’ve been doing for the past week, which is RIDICULOUS. I think it was fun?

I have been made aware that I called someone for about 28 minutes and that I talked at them the entire time and that I don’t remember it, really, at all. I have been made aware of this, but at the same time am relieved because I did not awkward them out and he still wants to be my friend. This is pleasing. The moral of my story is to never get drunk because it means I will talk at someone so much that I may possibly awkward them out and then when they don’t talk to me for ages I will be sad.

If you talk to the wrongs kinds of people about me, you will be confused. The wrong kinds of people are the kinds of people that think they know the exact degree to which I am insane. By this, however, I am meaning to say that I am not insane. I don’t like to know everything as much as I like to know how well my theories work out. I have lots of theories about lots of things and I like when they’re right because I don’t know where they’ve even come from. I like to think I’m intuitive.

Right now I have these theories that I’m starting to doubt? I am confused, and stuff, but that’s okay, I guess.

Sometimes, I am pretty sure people are scared of me, but I am not entirely sure why. Just like when people refuse to believe that I’m a bit too shy for life, they do not seem to realise that I am a bit too unscary to be scared of. In High School, I was clearly the most unpopular girl to ever not care about anything. Talk to Big Hels after a few little drinks and she’ll tell you how she thinks she stunted my social growth by putting me in schools where making friends was really compounded by the fact that there was almost no one to be friends with. She likes to think that I was a bit better than the others, and I don’t necessarily think that’s true, but we were never on the same wavelengths.
For example, I adore Abby now, but in High School she wasn’t my favourite anything. Teachers from years three to twelve tended to comment on the fact that I played dumb to fit in, but really I just sat at the back of the class looking self-righteous because I refused to answer anything. Don’t stick out, rah rah rah.

Somehow people became scared of me, like Elle, but no one really knows why. She was also scared of Grace. I know that you probably don’t know Grace, but in reality this is pretty funny. Pretty ridiculously hilarious.
This all ended one night when Elle decided to pour me drinks before the Christian parents saw anything. Elle is not skilled at pouring drinks. We ended up rolling down a hill before Elle, graciously, offered to make out with me so that this one boy would be jealous and stuff. I declined. The boy was jealous later anyway – I had fallen asleep on top of his friend.

I’m not sure what I am saying, but I don’t understand why people are STILL scared of me.

I am pretty sillyly shy and I am pretty much scared of anything that moves and I am pretty much only mean to some people, but believe me, you’d know if you were them. Because you’d live with me. And I’d be really mean because I HATE YOU.

So, you know.

I Can’t Tell Anymore

Today is either the worst day ever or the best day of my life. And it’s only 11.40am.

This morning I went to Kinokunyia for stocktake training and I realised that I am going to have to call Centrelink and tell them I have a job when I’ll probably earn less than $100 and won’t do it for more than one day. But I will have to enter my lack of income fortnightly for the next who knows how long.

Turns out I am awesome with a scanner, but that doesn’t really matter since I just found out that I will have to miss my German class and not my Media Law class like I thought. And I have a test in German.

Then, when I tried to catch a bus home from the middle of the city I didn’t have a travel ten, and for some reason assumed that you could still buy tickets on the bus so I tried. You can’t. Except the bus driver was so nice about it.

I was pretty much left to walk home which isn’t such a big deal, but it’s not super close or anything. I thought about buying a ticket somewhere with my last sixteen dollars, but I left my debit card at home so I wouldn’t spend money. So I kept walking.

THEN the bus I had just tried to catch stopped next to me when I was walking, and the nice bus driver said “Hey, I’ll give you a ride” and I was wide-eyed in shock and I said “Are you sure?” and then I stepped onto the bus, or so I thought.
I actually stepped in a way that meant I’d tripped into a gutter and slammed into the bottom of the bus steps. Awesome. It kind of reallly really hurt and about fifty people saw me do it. So I said “Oh my gosh don’t worry I’m fine I’m fine I’m fine” and I limped up to the back of the bus because ohmygosh how embarrassing.

So, I was chilling and thinking “this could only get worse if ticket inspectors came up here because I don’t even nearly have a ticket” and then when we stopped at Railway Square, of course they hopped on and started stalking the aisles. I was slightly nervous, because a previous experience with transit cops when I was fifteen hasn’t left me with the greatest regard for them. Or, more accurately, they scare me more than even pelicans.

When they got to my seat I was thinking “I’ll just tell them I fell into a gutter and I ran out of traveltens and and and I don’t know” and it was a pretty good story because my stockings were torn and my leg was oozing blood and everything. Then they said “Don’t worry, the driver explained everything” and I was, again, wide-eyed with shock because why would someone be so nice?

That’s when I kind of started crying. I can’t really tell if it’s because my legs hurt so bad (they do. They’re still bleeding and bruising) or if I was just so overwhelmed by the fact that someone would be so nice. Maybe both.

So, I asked Abby and she said it’s neither the best nor the worst day ever. It’s pretty much the most neutral day of all time. Everything bad that happened was almost immediately cancelled out by fate. Thanks Oprah.

I feel bad saying this, though, but I think my life would be so much harder if I was ugly or if I was a boy. There goes any sense of feminism.

My Eyes Can’t Look At You Any Other Way

It has been almost three days since it was socially acceptable for me to dress up as a Disney cartoon mouse, and I’m starting to get withdrawal symptoms.
I may have declared that I’d never take it off mere minutes before I actually did, but really I do still wish I was wearing it, kind of.

Last week was pretty good, even apart from the wonder that was a Central Coast 21st.

Big Hels and I decided that we’d indulge in a little family time of our own, even without Tom and Jimbo (the main conspirators) and, needless to say, they were completely jealous. Even if they wouldn’t admit it.
Mum came for a play and stayed in a fancy hotel somewhere and we decided to pub crawl alll the way to Milson’s Point, which didn’t really turn into the kind of thing you’d expect. After two pomegranate cocktails at somewhere called Kingsley’s where a waiter as white as a ghost made me feel kind of awkward, we headed onto the next pub where we ate fish and chips. I then realised that it was Thursday and made my poor, injured, recently-knee-reconstructed mother walk through the city for late night shopping at David Jones.

Not a bust, though! She got a nifty new handbag and I found a lovely raspberry beret that I actually think I need more than want. Curse my lack of monies!

We saw such a nice play, and although the first half was confusing enough for me to remain unsurprised when there was an abundance of empty seats after intermission, the second half grounded it so well that I can’t do anything but praise it. We caught a water taxi across the harbour at 11pm and it wasn’t cold, it wasn’t windy, it was just lovely.
I don’t think that I’ll ever be particularly inclined to go to Luna Park, but when you’re on the harbour, I don’t see how you can’t be kind of glad that it’s there. It adds some kind of quaint aesthetic that I really appreciate.

Anyway, so it was one of those nights that I was so happily oblivious to everything, even sore toes after walking around in heels for too long. I dont even seem to notice people on the streets, which I think is bad. I am hoping that it isn’t inevitable for me to get mugged when I’m in such a euphoric daze.

Friday nights are perfect for chicken on a make-do campfire, buttt mannnn Abby, why aren’t you around more?

I am kind of glad that my head is spinning with a thousand hypotheticals right now, because real or imagined, I think there’s room to move. I like puzzle pieces, I think. I’d like to think that they’re maybe starting to fit together.

I Wish My Life Was Like A High School Musical

Maybe not, since I’d have to sing in public and stuff. It’s just that man, for the last two days I have been entirely too keen to watch it. I maybe asked for it only a thousand times since 9am yesterday morning. But in the nice way.
We listened to the soundtrack while I counted down the hours, because I was on the Central Coast, I was waiting for Alisha’s 21st to commence and, most importantly, I was itching to get dressed up like a mouse.

It was totes worth it.

So, do you remember that guy I met last year at a college ball? No?
Well, maybe that shouldn’t be surprising because I didn’t pay the whole thing too much attention then, and I’m pretty sure that I was with another guy mere hours after I had met him. So, anyway, last night at the Disney themed party I went to, I saw him again. I mean, I knew that he was going to be there and everything, so I wasn’t surprised, but it was a surprise that I spent the whole night talking to him. That was pretty nice.

Not that exciting, I guess. It was cold at night, and spooning is a pretty nice solution.
We all tried to sleep in a jumping castle but I’m pretty sure we would have quickly died of exposure because it was flipping freezing. We were tangled into some pretty interesting shapes trying to keep warm. Every time someone got up it was like having a bucket of ice dropped on top of us all. Although, that was, I guess, half the fun.

I found out that I can skol an entire bottle of alcohol faster than you’d expect and I won a crazy straw for my troubles.
I found out that I really like dressing up like a mouse, but that wasn’t such a stretch of the imagination, was it?

This really seems kind of disconnected like the conversation I just sort of half had with my dad. It’s okay. I just wanted to say that, well, I had so much fun. Yup yup yup.

I had some weird conversations as well, haha, on the phone. I am such an awkward drunk at times. I don’t know how much or what I drank but I was pleasantly inebriated and, if I do say so myself, kind of charming. Although, I’m not going to lie, but I’m not sure how convinced I am that anyone else thought so.

There were a thousand tiny funny things that always make your night just perfect, but now isn’t probably the time to rehash? Just take it for granted that I had about the funnest night ever.

I am slightly prone to exaggeration.
I maybe have a slight crush on Peter Pan.

Yeah, I Need A Scapegoat Now

I think in emails, in general, I should tone down the crazy. lololololololol

I’m not crazy! But sometimes people find it easier to talk to me, I think.

Eep.

I am so incredibly broke right now that I can’t really afford to eat.
Well, eat out.

To be fair, it doesn’t really matter, because if I was at home I probably wouldn’t have eaten anything anyway.
So, in effect, if I hadn’t have been out in the first place then I wouldn’t have needed any money anyway.

I do, on occasion, feel bad about sitting in a restaurant and not ordering.
I do, on occasion, feel bad about seeming like such an ‘ice bitch’ by actively not participating in things.
I do, on occasion, feel bad about staring into space looking exactly like I just couldn’t care less.
I do, on occasion, feel bad about being so introspective that sometimes (?) I forget to keep talking.

Today was pretty nice. I woke up early because I had a bedroom to break into across town.
It is the start of the birthday season (although, not quite to the same extent when we don’t live with each other any more).
It was pouring! And we walked up to King Street in the freezing, wet (but pretty much delicious) rain. Despite the fact that I was only starting to look more and more like a drowned rat I didn’t have out my umbrella. Except, that’s okay. I like the rain.

I saw a whole bunch of people that I adore and I’ll see them again next weekend, and that’s just another thing to adore.

I’m feeling kind of…floaty? I don’t know. I’m not tied down enough to attempt a start on my essay, which is why I choose to write drivel here.

I have literally written something like “distracting the course of justice” more than three times so far in my measly 300 words. It’s so tacky that it makes me want to cry, but I don’t know enough to write anything of substance. The thing is, though, if I’m forced to write it again because of a lack of knowledge, I really will have to fail myself rather than waiting for a lecturer to do it for me. 40%? What’s that? Nothing.

I’m kind of concerned about a few things that I’m doing. I don’t want to get too attatched to things. I’m not sure that I could be bothered to deal with them if they never work out.

Eagle.x

I Should Be Suspended From Class

I can’t remember the last time I posted, but I do think that I didn’t say how much I liked Friday night during it, which is a shame if I did post after Friday.

I had a nice night because Timmy walked out of his room and said “I like your dress” and then we ate some cookies.
Then I went and drank beers (three kinds, even) trying to be as unawkward and as unlike a giraffe as possible. I may have had a sneaky vodka before I went upstairs so I was a little weird (kooky?) when I got there anyway. I insisted on standing up because I wanted to feel tall.
Though, that’s true. I just probably wouldn’t mention it to people in normal conversation. I really like those shoes.
Just stop looking at me like I’m a freak! Haha.

Then Korean! Which I found out was shutting down, which was sad. I was going to go there with Big Hels next week. We had the best family time ever at a little Korean restaurant in Newcastle. My family is ridiculous. We ate so much I almost died.

Anyway, so really I was a bit worried about last Friday night for the week preceeding it. I didn’t know how I was going to be during the entire time, and I wasn’t sure that I would talk to anybody. But I did. And it was pretty nice, you know?

Adam Hills is kind of adorable, and he totally showed me his artificial foot, so I can forgive the fact that I had heard almost every joke that he told before. We had okay seats, even. Pretty convenient, considering the mad dash to actually get into them.

I am becoming slightly suspicious about things right now, but I don’t even think that it’s in the bad way. I’m kind of anxious to know more but at the same time am mostly content to daydream.

I like to trust my Oprah-based intuitions. Why not now? It’d be pretty nice if it was true.

I had a great Tuesday night at Essen with some Deustch girls.
With gnocchi (suspiciously Italian) and a giant wurst platter, we ended up sharing two mains between three (which conveniently landed us a free bottle of weiss wine) but they were huge! It also left room for dessert, which would be rated modestly at 8/5.

It whet my appetite. I am ready to be completely German. I am going to have to go to the Bavarian, soon.

I am not sure what I was going to say at all, so I’ll stop.
This tends to be a pretty effective tool of procrastination, but don’t worry. I wrote an essay plan. That completely counts as progress. I almost even know what I’m talking about.