New Digs

A couple of weeks ago in a spur of late night curiosity and boredom I set up a new blog on WordPress so I'm not going to be posting over here anymore. I have no intention of deleting this blog but I won't be updating it anymore, unless WordPress continues to have loading issues in which case I might just chuck the whole thing in and return here with my tail between my legs. But probably not.

A Few Choice Phrases

Explanations or Excuses?

Consider this my most humble apology for having been AWOL lately, travelling and elections and life in general mean that the nights when I am at home, which are few and far between, I tend to conk out without having been able to give a thought to writing anything even vaguely interesting. As you can probably tell I'm not terribly good at following through at things which vaguely relates to what I was going to talk about.

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away I had a friend, let's call her T. I'm sure if you search through my archives you'll probably find previous references to her. We were really good friends but for a lot of reasons, reasons that mostly had to do with my "issues" we drifted apart and I haven't spoken to her in the better part of a year. Now here's the tricky part...

T. added me on Facebook today and it's gotten me thinking about calling her. I miss her and I think about her a lot and even if we can't be friends again there's a lot of things that I want to say to her. I want to apologise for not being a better friend and for not listening to her and being there for her when she needed me. I want to explain why things panned out the way they did, more as an explanation then as an excuse.

But I just don't know if it's a good idea. Let's be frank, I'm pretty chicken shit and I don't want to call her if it's going to be blatantly obvious that she doesn't want to speak to me or even see me again. So what would you do if you were me? If you were her would you want me to call?

Help me! Fix my life for me!!!

Blah

I've been putting off posting because this marks 250 posts here at The Corrections and I felt like it should something big and interesting and momentous because 250 is a pretty big deal. Unfortunately I don't have anything big or interesting or momentous to say, I only have whiny, petty, boring things to say but its my blog so you can all bear with me.

First things first. I got a hair cut today and I'm really not sure if I like it. It's pretty short and for lack of a better term "dykey". It's asymmetrical and short at the back and I'm so in two minds about it. My Mum loves it, my Dad said "it's nice" and A. said "It'll grow on me" so none of them were any help at all.

Student elections are fast approaching and I'm losing my sanity at a similarly swift rate. None of what I could say about student activism is of any interest to people outside of organising circles so I'll keep it brief and say only this. Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

BFP and I are fighting at the moment and it's pretty soul destroying. On one hand I hate fighting with him because he's my best friend and a part of my heart and on the other hand I'm really hurt and incredibly angry. That's all that to be said about that.

Mid semester break is coming up and I'm planning on being out of town for as much of it humanly possible as a possible antidote to all the stress and craziness in my life which is slightly counteracted by the fact that I'm going to the South Coast to meet Wollongong Grrl's parents. Why she thinks this is a good idea is completely beyond my comprehension, I'm a snobby city intellectual who is awkward, cynical and sarcastic none of which are conducive to making a good first impression on someone's parents. We're finishing out the trip with a stop in Wagga for small child hang time and a music festival which should prove to be very restful and restorative to the stress of travelling and family time.

So now I must head to bed before I start hallucinating from exhaustion and stress.

Exhausted

As much as I would love to sit and write an extended entry about my trip to Wollongong and my recent comings and goings it has just turned 8:00 and I'm exhausted and going to drag my weary arse to bed. Something more substantial will follow eventually.

Away

There's nothing like a weekend away with your family to really make you hate them. Or at the very least remember why you're such an introvert and crave massive amounts of alone time and personal space.

Skiing was amazing, the conditions were great and I wasn't as much of as an uncoordinated dork as I first feared. Not so amazing however was not having any time to myself and having to spend every. waking. second with my siblings. Trying to be clever and ending up on my arse also wasn't so great. I'm in the most ridiculous amount of pain which probably wasn't helped by the six hour car trip home. Ouch.

Now I must head to bed before getting up obscenely early to head to Wollongong to hang out with my new "person". Ouch, so much leg pain.

Busybusybusy

Apologies for the lack of posts recently but since my birthday I've been run off my feet and more often then not out of the city and the state. After my birthday I headed to Wollongong for a couple of days to spend sometime with my new girl and to hang out with my posse of Wollongoonians. It was UoW's Sexuality Week complete with lube slide and human condoms but the best part of my stay was "Coming out by fairylight" when the queer space is decorated with fairy-lights and everyone tells their coming out stories. I was extremely suspicious and cynical but it really was such a lovely, caring and supportive space, I was also really touched but how tough it was for a lot of people to come out and how I've been relatively lucky.

I left Wollongong to head to Melbourne for five days, which turned into six and was not only super fun but also exactly what I needed to refresh my soul. Hanging out with some really good friends, eating a lot, watching Buffy with a bunch of queer womyn and sleeping a lot were elixirs to my burn-out soul. All the good stuff aside I will never, ever fly JetStar again. They suck. My flight leaving Sydney was delayed by five hours because the plane was struck by lightening and they didn't bother to call me! My flight home was delayed overnight because of GWB's arrival in Sydney and so we missed the night curfew. So much rage!

After less then 36 hours at home I'm heading away for a weekend skiing with my two littlest siblings and my Dad. With APEC in Sydney this weekend there was no way in hell I was going to stay in town. I can only hope that things don't go to shit and that no one gets stomped by police horses.

Bah! Less then an hour til we leave and I haven't finished packing! Gosh, it's tough being so popular.

Birthday

Yesterday marked the twenty-first anniversary of my birth and in celebration I got the two things I really wanted, to spend time with all my various loved ones and rain. I also got the hiccups (twice) but that is somewhat beside the point.

My family burst into my room at an ungodly hour of the morning yesterday to wake me up before they all fled to their various day-time pursuits. I spent a couple of hours pleasantly pottering around the house, having an obscenely long shower and futzing with my appearance. After a leisurely train journey with several stops at the newsagent for a new notebook and the clearinghouse book shop for unbirthday presents I went to lunch with three of my most favourite activists. Despite the fact that we were crammed onto a table with a strange man in a pin stripe suit and there wasn't anywhere nearly enough cream cheese on my bagel, it was far and away the best lunch I've had in ages.

Lunch was followed by visiting the new queer space, lots of hugs and affection from the various aquaintances that I bumped into and then coffee with BFP. We did our usual catch-up and debrief over lattes, accompanied by far too many cigarettes. From coffee I headed into the office to try and get something other then eating accomplished, made some phone calls, did some ego stroking and then headed out into the rain to have dinner with my family. It's only my family that would turn up to a birthday dinner half an hour late and missing two of my siblings but I amused myself by sitting at the table and playing at being a yuppie, talking on my phone and writing things in my diary.

Dinner was lovely, good mexican food is very comforting, I think it has something to do with combination of vast amounts of carbohydrates and melted cheese in its various incarnation. My godfather, who I haven't seen in five years has flown over for my birthday so hanging out with him and his partner has definitely been a highpoint of the week.

Presently I'm hiding out in my room trying desperately to avoid getting caught up in the preparations for my twenty-first which is tonight. The house smells like cooking meat (vomit) and I'm not allowed to touch or walk on anything for fear of making a mess so it really is in my best interest to stay put.

I'm feeling really great about this birthday, certainly better then I've felt about any birthday I've had in the last decade. Birthdays are a traditionally terrible time of year for me, something about being the centre of attention trips all my self-esteem issues, and lets be frank I have a few. This year instead of freaking out and pretending that the whole day wasn't happening, I'm just really happy to have made it this far with friends that love me and a family that tolerates me even when I'm being particularly unbearable.

Thanks

Meme-o-rama

A billion years ago, or a couple of months depending on how you look at it, Alynda interviewed me on her blog but because I'm a total slacker I'm only getting around to answering them now.

1. Single, double, queen, king or bunk bed? Why?
I actually don't have any of the above, I have a king single which is bigger and longer then a single bed but not as big as a double bed. Until the beginning of the year I had a king bed but then I was duly kicked out of my room and forced to move into a room with a bright pink feature wall and a stupidly small bed.

2. How did your parents choose your name to bestow on you?
My parents were originally intending to name me after Katharine Hepburn with Elizabeth as a middle name but then realised that that would give me initials KEG which my parents were understandably a little apprehensive about so they went with the alternate spelling, Catherine. At the last minute they decided to change my middle name to Jane so it ended up not mattering...

3. What item is most valuable to you? (money-wise)
A couple of weeks ago I would have said my brand new $250 phone but then I went out with a friend visiting from Wagga and lost it somewhere in Newtown. I don't care much for possessions but the thing I own that has the most monetary value is my laptop but after my hard drive was wiped this summer I'm less emotionally invested.

What item is most valuable to you? (non-money-wise)

My bear, given to me by my parents when I was born, which I still sleep with most nights, unless I have other company.

4. If you could pick one place in the world to live, where would it be and why?

After visiting family friends in Oxford with my Dad when I was fourteen I've been obsessed with going back. You feel smarter just walking around the grounds.

5. How many pairs of socks do you own?

Not many. Put this way, I own more sex toys then I do pairs of socks.

I don't remember the rules for this particular meme but if you want me to interview you either for your blog or for me to post here, just comment or email me.

Dressing

There's nothing like a crying fit in the middle of Central station, personal conflict, dreaming of violently murdering the other party in said conflict and a flying visit to Wollongong to make a girl feel like taking to her bed for the week. Instead I'm smothering my woes with salad drenched in dressing, FaceBook and Motown.

This will all make sense eventually and I promise to share that with you once I've made sense of it myself.

Full

I'm full, and in saying this I'm not just referring to the fact that in the space of six hours I've eaten Pad Thai for three, half a pound of tuna and my body weight in ice cream. Full also refers to my quality of my day.

K and her best male friend drove up from Canberra this morning and I was charged with the weighty task of showing them the sights, sounds and smells of Newtown all in the space of less then eight hours. This is by no means a small feat. All the things that I love best about Newtown and Glebe I've discovered and learnt to love over a very extended period of time, there is no way I can show all the best parts of Newtown in an afternoon. However with the benefit of a beautiful day I did my utmost.

First stop was Glebe markets which was its usual splendid array of sights and sounds as well as the smell of fairy floss that we couldn't track down. I have so many memories of heading down to Glebe markets on a warm Saturday afternoon that the trip was very reminiscent. Scoring a new dress and top for twenty-five dollars didn't sour the experience either.

From the markets we headed down the street to Well Connected for a much needed late lunch. Have I mentioned how much I love feta yet today? I love feta. Also all salad vegetables, particularly when combined with olives, tahini, and mayonaise into the amazing tuna salad of goodness. We lazed around chatting about love, sex, politics and the physics of six foot dildos before grabbing ice cream and heading to Victoria Park. Victoria Park isn't the most picturesque park in the area and the fact that it is surrounded by four lanes of traffic on all four sides could be seen to diminish its qualities as a park but it's hard to beat on a Saturday afternoon, particularly when there are anarchists playing hilariously bad soccer just across the way.

After basking on the grass we bid farewell to PRF (Pretend Rural Friend) and headed up City Rd for the central part of our mission, to explore King St. Admittedly it was now getting late and we didn't make it far down King St but what we saw impressed my visitors enough that I enjoyed being able to remind them that I live in Sydney and so can enjoy all my favourite parts of Newtown, great coffee and Gould's secondhand bookstore whenever I fancy. After stopping for an almighty chocolate thickshake and a restorative cigarette we began to head home.

After a busy week of uni, work, activism and family it was nice to take some time out to "smell the roses" as they say. It's a horribly cliched thing to say but there really isn't anything like walking around with a tourist to give you new perspective on your hometown and it make me even more anxious for J to get home so that we can walk down King St together and I can enoy it through the eyes of someone who hasn't seen Sydney in 12 months.

Awkward

So, this is awkward. Kind of like those conversations that you have with people you went to highschool with but haven't seen since graduation.

"Can you summarise your existence for the last three years in four short and amusing sentences?"

Can I summarise where I've been for the better part of the last three months? The honest answer is no. The last four months have been a shitstorm to say the least and I just haven't had the energy or the inclination to blog. With everything that was going on around I was so busy trying to keep my head above water and making sure that everyone around me was ok that blogging was just about my last priority. To be honest, even before I spontaneously went AWOL I hadn't really been feeling the blogging groove and it's all your fault. Kidding. Mostly.

Blogging is very difficult, particularly if you write as I do with a vague audience in mind, because you send this tiny little parts of yourself out into the universe and wait to hear what people think. I hadn't been feeling good about my writing, there had been a big drop in the number of comments I was getting and then my life promptly exploded in my face which gave me a nice excuse to take some time off.

I have always tried not to apologise if I don't post for extended periods of time because if I try and force myself to write something then it feels icky and very inorganic. So I'm not going to apologise, I was gone and now I'm back. I'm going to try and get back into some sort of regular posting schedule which won't necessarily be easy given how insanely busy my life is and just let things flow. If you like it then read and if you don't then feel free to feck off.

I will at some point give a vague rundown of whats been going on. Til next time, adios!

Betty

Yesterday as I was walking home I found an abandoned bike by the side of the road. I picked up said bike, dubbed her "Betty" and rode her home. Now I'm going to wheel her round to the garage and do a little maintenance. This was easily the highlight of my weekend.

What was the best part of your weekend?

The Homo That Ate Manhattan!

What kind of person does a Google search for the top ten places for heterosexuals to live? Really that just seems bizarre to me, have we entered some upside down Rand McNally world where the gays have taken over the earth and the breeders must secretly search for safe havens in which to enjoy the sanctity of marriage and biological child-bearing techniques.

Watch out everyone, the fags and sensible shoe brigade are taking over the world!

The homo that ate Manhattan!

I'm sure there are more porno/B-grade horror titles in this but I'm tired. I do feel a smidgen of sympathy for the poor conservative fundamentalist desperate to escape the horrors of rampant homosexuality and ended up here. This blog is most definitely queer friendly!

A Manifesto Of Sorts

One of the primary disadvantages of my job is that I have to spend most of my time at Big Corporate Childcare centres. All bar one of these BCC centres has made my skin crawl and they aren't much fun to work at, even if only for a sort period of time. The sad fact is that because of how big the company is and just how many of their centres there are a lot of parents either don't have a choice in where to send their kids or they don't realise that there are other options.

A big part of the reason that I don't like these Big Corporate Childcare centres so much is that I disagree almost entirely with how these centres are run as a whole. There is way too much emphasis on curriculum, and teaching objectives. They are entirely too structured, with almost every spare moment of the day being devoted to some kind of "learning opportunity". As a rule there are too many children and insufficient staff. There often isn't enough room or supplies and equipment for the children. BCC is notorious for treating their staff like dirt, overworking them, underpaying them and using corporate bureaucracy to force staff into submission.

I think that a lot of the problems in the childcare industry aren't the fault of the people that work in it or even the corporations that own the centres. If the government gave proper paid maternity leave then women wouldn't be forced to put their six week old baby into childcare for ten or twelve hours a day. If society valued the work involved in caring for children more then the industry wouldn't be filled with non-English speaking migrants and high school drop-outs. If society valued quality childcare then there would be more tertiary educated preschool teachers instead of completely unqualified substitutes teaching big classes of three and four year olds. There is something seriously wrong with the system when I can go in and teach without any qualifications and only a few months classroom experience.

I'm not going to pretend that I know every facet of the childcare industry or that I'm any kind of authority on the industry with a big book of answers. The only thing I can claim to be is someone with an opinion about how I would do things differently. The only thing I can claim with any degree of certainty is how I would run things differently if I were in charge, who knows maybe you think I'm a granola loving, pot smoking, home-school embracing freak.

Mashalicious

I want one of these.

Also I think you should read this because it's an incredibly well-written post about something that I've been thinking about a fair bit recently.

Finally just quick word to the wise, don't take a swig of beer immediately after ditching your chewing gum which you had immediately after finishing a cigarette because you will destroy all the taste buds on the front of your tongue and the beer will taste like arse. Trust me on this one.

Is This What It Has Come To?

Do you have an concept of how unceasingly irritating it is that FreeCell doesn't keep track of which games you've won. How am I meant to know when I've played and won all the possible combinations if it only tells me how many I've won? Is all my procrastination time to be for naught?

I'm also really sad that the No Frills version of chocolate digestive biscuits really don't compare to the real thing. Proper digestive biscuits walk a fine line between stodgy circles of bland wheat flavoured nothingness and delicious milky chocolate. Unfortunately the No Frills versions fall rather heavily on the side of bland nothingness.

Whilst playing with small people today I got vomited on. For the third time. Whilst I will admit that baby vomit of the regurgitated milk variety is far less heinous then the pre-schooler unchewed chunks of sandwich variety I've still spent the last twelve hours smelling distinctly unpasteurised. Mmmm, soy formula cheese.

In addition to getting barfed on I spent the better chunk of my day with two people of the really, really small variety. Babies, proper babies that can't talk, walk or support their own heads are surprisingly intimidating for small lumps of flesh whose main talent lies in grunting, farting and screeching like a banshee. And people do this on purpose?

As much as I would much rather sit here and prattle endlessly about the inane minutiae of my day I do actually have better things to be doing. Damn transgender prison inmates, why can't they write their own damn research proposal. Back to the chocolate digestives.

B-O-R-I-N-G

Since I'm bored of apologising for dodgy updates and being too busy and lazy to update properly I'm just going to skip over that part and get right to the update portion of the blogging.

Having a life and being responsible for more then just keeping myself bathed and fed is busy and tired making. Just like a chicken I'm really only good at doing one thing at a time and trying to juggle uni, work, activism and having any semblance of a social life is somewhat crazy making. Top this off with a gnarly cough that I can't seem to shake and various Lifetime movie-esque mini-dramas and it makes crawling into bed and going into hiding seem like a really awesome idea.

As much as I enjoy being busy and involved in life in general it's also tempered by the fact that I really love being by myself and being busy really gets in the way of that. Plus I really, really, REALLY hate being tired and so when I feel even slightly less then completely well rested I tend to ignore all my responsibilities and head to bed. This is not conducive to getting things done.

Somehow I managed to lose the power cable the runs from my laptop to the power point. I left for uni on Friday with my laptop plugged in and got home to find the cord missing. It has completely vanished, even after turning my entire room upside down, moving every item of furniture in my room and ripping my wardrobe apart I still can't find and had to buy another one which was a total pain in my arse, especially considering I have masses of important stuff to do, including procrastinating on FaceBook and watching stand-up routines on YouTube, the really important things in life.

Best wrap things up because I've got to go and get dressed and out the door for work very swiftly or I'll be late and for a temp that's the career kiss of death.

My Boy Lollipop - Aids Spot

I know that this doesn't actually count as a real post but I'm going to beg off with the excuse that I'm sick and have a completely unfathomably mount of work to do.

Enjoy this adventure in awesome safe sex campaigning!

Vengence, Novocastrians, Movies and Snot

After having spent yesterday battling the hang-over from Hell I have now been struck down with the most horrendous cold/cough thing. The cold I had two weeks ago never really left and is now announcing it's return with a vengeance!

Not only do I have an awful cold but I also spent far too much time travelling to New Castle today for a Cross Campus Women's Network meeting. To say I was nervous would be the understatement of the century but all in all everything went well, I didn't make a total arse of myself and things seem to be heading in a good direction.

Don't see "Friends with Money". Even my love for Catherine Keener, Francis McDormand and Joan Cusack couldn't save this movie. Nothing happened and that's big call coming from the girl whose favourite movie is "The Station Agent" a truly beautiful but uneventful film.

I require sleep. I also require cotton wool to pack my nose with so that my snot doesn't continue to run like a open geyser throughout the night. You think I'm kidding?

Not Awesome

Things that are not awesome

• That quite singular sensation from standing in the kitchen trying not to look deathly hung-over, talking to your grandma, when you realise that you did blog drunk last night and no, you can't remember what you wrote. Not a single word.

• Being body slammed by your brother and dad whilst lazing in bed trying to recover from said hang-over. The invasion of personal space and tickling was unpleasant.

• A gnarly beer hand-over complete with gurgely belly and dehydration.

• Trying to drink my body weight in water to cure my hang-over and then feeling suddenly and violently ill from drinking too much water. Damn irony.

• Dog sitting from a beloved white Maltese with the worst breath ever. Stupid dog isn't reading my "I hate animals" vibe.
  

My Big Fat Drunken Cliche

I have the hiccups and appear to have lost the ability to support the weight of my own head.

Now I'm really cool.

Working And Sleeping

Since pretty much all I've done this week is work and sleep* here is yet another mildly amusing anecdote from my life as a gainfully employed person.

Sitting in outside play area of yet another Big Corporate Child Care Centre I was playing with an adorable thirteen month old girl. Lying back with her held over my face I was flying her through the air. The first thought that went through my mind was "Oh God! She's drooling." The second thought which quickly followed the second was "Oh God! She drooled in my mouth!".

My life is so awesome.

*Don't think I'm exaggerating for dramatic effect. Two hours after waking up yesterday I went back to bed and had a four hour nap. Being a productive member of society is draining though good for the bank account.

Totally Not Bright Eyed and Bushy-Tailed

Does anyone else do that thing? That thing where you hide out in your room so as to avoid having to take to your parent's friends whilst they give you dirty looks for still being in your pyjamas at half past one on a public holiday. The dirty look of "Why aren't you up and active?". I hate that look.

In other news I had an awesome dream in which Mum and I were hanging out in the Chanel flagship store in Paris and waiting with us was Katie Holmes and we were just so much cooler then she was. We were speaking French but I kept slipping into Spanish. Would it be unfeasible to go and live in Paris being completely non-French speaking?

Also I remembered that I meant to mention that I had my first moment of competition induced parental craziness at work yesterday. A curly-headed ragamuffin and I were sitting on the floor reading and her mum arrived to pick her up. I kidd you not, the first words out of this woman's mouth were "Can she read yet? Because she can sing them in the song." To which the voice in my head responded a little something like this. . .

"Hey crazy lady! Are you kidding me with this? Of course your child can't read yet, she's only just turned three. There is a long list of things that she can't do yet and you're getting in my grill about the fact that she can't read? Let's work on peeing unaccompanied and then we'll talk about whether she's ready for Tolstoy."

Of course in reality I just nodded blithely and said something non-specific about how kids tend to recognise the letters in their name before any other letters. For the record it doesn't matter if your child is three and can't read. It doesn't matter. In. The. Slightest.

Yay For Working With Small People

Just a quick story from work today. I had an absolute gem of a day, despite the fact that I had heard nothing good about my placement, it was out in the boondocks and it was pouring with rain. The kids were delightful, if albeit a bit manic, my supervisors were lovely and the staffroom was clean and well-stocked with cream biscuits and lollipops. As a substitute this last point is very important.

An adorable two and a half year old strawberry blonde boy comes running up with a hair elastic in his hand.

"Do my hair! Do my hair!"
"Ok, lets go and have a look in the mirror"

He, his best gal-pal and I all trek off to the bathroom together. He and his mate start giggling hysterically. Leaning over and brushing his pony-tail across the mirror he exclaims at the top of his lungs, "We're naughty little schoolgirls."

Somethings are definitely biological.

Sickly

As much as I would love to tell you all about my super exciting week, the essays I had due and the road trip I'm in the process of planning, I'm far too busy being mucusy and congested.

What's your best cold remedy?

Just A Short Note

Just a quick note for anyone in the Sydney Area.

BFP is part of a team organising a protest against the John Howard proposed ban against HIV positive immigrants and refugees from entering the country. If you've been aching to get some more wear out of your protest boots or if you just want the chance to take a stand against racism, homophobia and governmental oppression then be there! Details below.

Date:	Friday, April 20, 2007
Time:	6:00pm - 7:00pm
Location:	Hyde Park North
Street:	Elizabeth St
City/Town:	Sydney
Country:	Australia

Cosmetic Quandry

Generally speaking I like to consider myself a good feminist, I'm a member of my Women's collective, I've read most of the classic works of feminist text, I read at least five feminist blogs, I practise boycott politics, I attend rallies and write articles on women's issues but the truth is lately I've been struggling with a secret. I shave.

Am I a bad feminist for wanting to shave my armpits and legs? At this very moment, as I sit in bed typing this I am in a state of full hairiness. I haven't shaved my armpits in at least two weeks and whilst I did shave my legs reasonably recently I didn't do a terribly good job and I don't really care. Now here's the tricky part, tomorrow night I'm going to the birthday party of an old friend. This party is going to be packed to the rafters with people I went to school with, people I haven't seen in a very long time for a variety of reasons and people to whom I want to appear totally fantastic. I have my anecdotes practised, a few witty one-liners lined up and I've even decided what to wear.

Is it wrong that I want to shave before I go to this party tomorrow night? Whilst I totally believe that feminism is about choice and for lots of women shaving is a choice I'm just not sure that my choice to shave in being informed by anything other then a societal pressure to be hair-free. If it were anything else even vaguely cosmestic I wouldn't give it a second thought. I only started plucking my eyebrows a couple of months ago and only because I thought it might look good. I didn't start wearing any makeup til I turned 19 and I've changed my hair colour so many times I'm not entirely sure what my natural colour is. Every time I do something to change my appearance it's because I want to. Shaving my armpits and legs is something I want to do sure, but it's why I want to do it that's rubbing me the wrong way.

Should I shave before the party or should I wear my feminist credentials on my sleeve, or out my sleeve, as the case may be? If you were me, what would you do?

Layers Of Awesomeness

In an attempt to deal with my current funk I decided that a short jaunt to the country was in order. After uni on Friday I hopped a train to Lithgow and then made my way to Bathurst to spend the weekend with my Pretend Rural Friend (PRF), thusly titled because whilst she grew up in Bathurst and is currently living their with her parents, PRF will soon be back living in Sydney, hopefully somewhere exciting and interesting in the inner west.

Before I left I was in major freak out mode as to whether taking a trip was going to be a good idea; I have lots of uni work to do, I'm not good at dealing with other people's families and I've just generally been out of sorts lately. However as usual when I stress about something to the point of ridiculousness everything turned out reasonably well. I managed to charm the pants off her parents, got along well with both her brothers, and managed not to vomit on the rug. Not kidding!

I am the only person I know who would organise a weekend away and get barfy sick for the first twenty-four hours of their forty-eight hour visit. After a shocking nights sleep that included me trying to run silently, through a house I don't know, in the dark whilst trying not to barf on the rug I woke up with a gnarly fever, headache, nausea and the shakes. After mainlining some paracetamol and a little sunshine PRF and I settled in for a day of absolute nothingness. It was exactly what I needed. Getting out of Sydney and away from everything and everyone who has been stressing me out was the prefect solution to my recent funkiness.

BFP and I were chatting over coffee on Tuesday and as we are want to do, we were digging through my psyche trying to determine the cause of my recent funk. Four days of being listlessly depressed are more then enough for me. Luckily for me I have the smartest best friend in the world and he pointed out that for the first time in a long time I actually have more then one thing to do/deal with at a time. Given that I'm not traditionally someone whose great at dealing with stress it seems only logical that having to deal with more stress, for a longer period of time then I've had in a while would send me into a little bit of a tale spin.

So the plan for this week is to take things slow, and just try to get everything done both well and on time. I've got a few social engagements coming up that aren't exactly going to pass my social anxiety test which in combination with the two HUGE essays I have due this week and out of state visitors are making this somewhat of a big week but I'm probably not going to work so that I can get my uni work done and that will hopefully help take the pressure off.

Gah, it's late and I'm still somewhat sickly. Off to bed!

Talk Amongst Yourselves

Wow, there's nothing like binging on chocolate and beer, a to-do list as long as your arm and having an essay due in less then twenty-four hours to put a real dampener on any blog related motivation.

Just a quick little note to say that I am working furiously on my list of interview questions which I'll post here in the next few days so if you were thinking about it feel free to comment and let me know so I can tailor make you a question. I'm nice like that.

Talk amongst yourselves.

Cause I Had A Bad Day

I'm having a bad day. This is not one of your stock standard "nothing's going my way and it's pissing me off" bad days. This is a Catherine special "I'm randomly really sad today" bad days. Today is one of those days where I hide in my room, sleep a lot and smoke too many cigarettes whilst squatting in various corners of the backyard. Today is one of those days where I imagine running away so that I never have to talk to anyone ever again. Today is one of those days where I have a lot of illogical conversations with myself about how much better the world would be without me or about how much I hate everyone and wish they would die in a fiery storm of lava and pointy sticks.

After many years of having bad days, years of therapy and a small amount of self actualisation I've realised that the key to having a bad day is to have it. Today I'm going to let myself have a bad day, I'm going to remember that it's okay to be sad, and I'm going to remember that I'm actually pretty happy most of the time. Everybody has bad days and that's ok.

Tomorrow is going to be better.

Hot, Hot, Internet Heat

Just in case you had any doubts as to my status as a super internet celebrity I recently had the pleasure of being interviewed by the jaw achingly sweet and super cool Alynda from "Ramblings. . . by Alyndabear". Alynda is a primary school teacher, in her second year out from uni, who is not only lovely and the owner of some very awesome t-shirts, plus she has shiny, pretty hair.

1. Single, double, queen, king or bunk bed? Why?
I was owner of the world's most ridiculously over sized king bed which was previously owned by my parents but unfortunately I lost it to my ridiculously over sized brother at the beginning of the year. Now I sleep, quite comfortably I should add, in what is termed a "king single" which is theoretically the stepping stone between single bed and double bed, longer and wider then a single bed but not as big as a double.

2. How did your parents choose your name to bestow on you?
Funny story. My parents originally intended on calling me Katharine Elizabeth Garner, Katharine after Katharine Hepburn, and Elizabeth because its my mother's middle name. Mum realised that my initials would be KEG so they changed the "K" to a "C" and then ended up changing my middle name so it wouldn't have ever even mattered.

3. What item is most valuable to you? (money-wise)

What item is most valuable to you? (non-money-wise)
The most materially valuable thing I own would be my lovely laptop Bola (don't let your mum name your electronics) despite the fact that I had to get my hard drive replaced after only eleven months of use. The most emotionally valuable thing I own would be all my books, none of them are especially rare or valuable but they're MY books and I love them all dearly.

4. If you could pick one place in the world to live, where would it be and why?
I would live in big historic house, run entirely off the grid, with a huge organic vegetable garden, a cow called Maisy and a horse called Roger. Somewhere in the Blue Mountains, preferably in the Megalong Valley as part of a housing cooperative. I really love the idea of being so in tune with nature and doing work with my hands which I then enjoy the fruits of (both literally and figuratively). I used to dream of joining the Amish but they aren't so crash hot on all the lesbian sex and women's rights.

5. How many pairs of socks do you own?
Honest to God, I swear I only own two pairs of socks, one pair with blue, pink and whites stripes, and one with a red and black argyle pattern, both of which are knee high. I get socks for Christmas most years but I hate socks and avoid wearing enclosed shoes at all costs. When it gets cold you're much more likely to see me in stockings or tights then in socks.

If anyone should so desire to be interviewed by me then let me know in the comments. It's only fair that I warn you that I'm a psychology student so you should expect much trickier questions.

Gainfully Employed

In an ideal world I would be fabulously wealthy, never having to work a day in my life, having enough money so that I never have to think about it but not so much money that it would screw me up. Unfortunately so far none of my plans for financial success have come to fruition so for now I'm stuck being yet another working stiff, trying to cram as many hours of paid employment into my schedule as humanly possible.

I must say that it's not all bad. Being a temp has loads of advantages, never having to stay in the same place for long, not really having anyone to answer to, lots of choice, and the freedom to work as much or as little as I please. Add onto that all the bonuses of working with children and you have a pretty sweet gig. I get paid a somewhat ludicrous amount of money to paint, read books and play on the swings. Awesome!

Just you try and find a job where you get to teach chubby, red headed, two year olds what noise to make on a swing, finger paint and sleep for two hours a day.

*It should be noted that I did also have to change fifteen (15!) nappies in one session today so it's not all sunshine and puppies.

Lovely Lady Lumps

This is possible the single most disturbing thing you'll see this week.

Enjoy!

Just Wanted to Warn You

Generally I'm not a huge drinker, I would like to think I'm somewhat discriminating about when and where I'll choose to imbibe. This having been said on the occasions that I do drink I certainly don't do it by halves.

Just as a little word of warning, if you're having dinner with someone you haven't seen in four years and you're just a tad nervous I wouldn't recommend beer as a way easing your social anxieties because it could leave you unable to locate the Mexican restaurant that you've been raving about for the last fifteen minutes. If, on the off chance this were to happen it would be somewhat embarrassing.

I would also recommend not announcing to the entire population of Newtown that you've had a bit to drink, repeatedly, at the top of your lungs. On this same topic personal jokes about things like womb juices, that you and your associate find side achingly hilarious, may not be quite so amusing to the other passengers on the bus.

Since I'm on a roll I'm also going to recommend remembering that you've been drinking, particularly if you're running up the stairs at the train station. If you were to forget that you might trip and rip a small section out of your toe and then bleed all over the train and your thongs. Not a hot look.

Last but not least if you happen to break the seal too early and desperately need to relieve yourself during the walk home, make sure there aren't any cars left in the car park and that you don't happen to pick the one spot surrounded by sensor lights to draw attention to the fact that you are urinating in a public place.

Just wanted to warn you.