Live and Bewildered

It seems the more I swear to myself I’ll write in this thing more often, the more likely I am not to be able to find the time to touch it for weeks. Unfortunately (probably for me more than you, dear reader) all the ideas I have for extending this site beyond the realm of blog are going to remain solely in crazed-monkey-dung-flinging format until at least the end of semester, if not longer. Everything is crazy at the moment and I am tearfully contemplating the prospect of reading even more of Julia Kristeva’s critical works. However, my public* has demanded an update, and so I’m coming to you, as the title of this entry suggests, live and bewildered.

You know, I just don’t get it. A few years ago I could find time to blog pretty much every day, and what’s more it was lengthy entries on such vital topics as my boobs and the charms of politics lecturer Michael Janover, who, if he were a woman, would be described somewhere along the lines of “pint-sized dynamo” or “bubbly brunette,” but because we would never diminish a man in such a way, we could instead describe as “lovably eccentric shortarse”. You’ve got to have some form of affection for a man who suggests to a bunch of first-year Uni students that they might want to use “Hey, want to come back to my place and look at some pictures of John Stuart Mill?” as a pickup line.

As usual, I have digressed somewhat spectacularly from where I was intending to go with this entry. Yes, I do generally have some idea of what I want to say. Now I can only hope that Dr Janover isn’t given to self-Googling. (Because everyone knows it feels better when someone else does it for you.)

In terms of updates, my big news is that after all my whingeing in older posts on this site, I’ve moved out of Castle Anthrax. This rather major event in my admittedly small life occurred a couple of weeks ago and involved much cursing and breaking of fingernails by my father and myself. I’m now living with the lovely Bronwyn (along with the no-less-lovely Sally and Sean, but considering Bron gets a bit of a guernsey in this blog I thought it best to mention her first), which is absolutely swimming apart from it being hard to resist wandering into her room and raiding her bookshelves, and also the fact that tonight she provoked me into doing an improptu anti-sexual-harassment rendition of “U Can’t Touch This,” which ended up being completed with tits-and-arse dance moves on my part, and additional lyrics not found in MC Hammer’s version, most likely because they were about the core themes and arguments of my Honours thesis. You’re glad you don’t know me in real life.

The move has also facilitated the continuation of my tendency to live in completely untrendy suburbs. I’m currently quite amused by the level of snobbery this fact seems to provoke in some people, as if the mere fact of living in a trendier suburb alone were enough to make someone interesting (which surely no one believed past the first series of The Secret Life of Us?). It’s interesting enough getting this from people I know, and even more interesting getting it from people I don’t. I had to spell the name of my new suburb for a market research person the other night. “I’m a Balaclava girl, myself,” she said, by way of explanation and with more than a hint of smugness in her voice. “I don’t really know about the…outer suburbs.”
Yes, I thought. You’re also in some sort of low-rung middle management position in a call centre, and at work at 7pm on a Monday night. I’m glad it’s all working out so swimmingly for you.

My cat, Clea, seems to be settling in well. By which I mean, commandeering other people’s space as her own, demanding attention at inconvenient times and ignoring people at whim. She’s discovered that headbutting me square in the forehead with extreme force is a fun activity, earning her the nicknames of Soccer Hooligan and, on Stu’s suggestion, Wee Sconner.

It’s actually been a pretty emotionally draining time for me lately. Not so much with the move, as with other things that have been going on. I sort of feel like I should give some sort of explanation, especially given I was so fired up about finally starting this site, but you know what? An increasing number of people I know read this page, and not all of them are people I want to tell all my personal shit to, which is probably a good barometer for whether something is appropriate webpage content or not. In less classified news, I’m at the drafting stage of my thesis and it’s both exciting and a little bit daunting. If I had to nominate a song about how I’m feeling about my thesis at this stage, that song would be “Monster Mash”.

More at some point in the allegedly not-too-distant future. This life-balancing shit is hard.

*Pretty much solely defined as Stu and Bronwyn.

One Response to “Live and Bewildered”

  1. Bronwyn Says:

    You can’t touch this, do do do do, dooo dooooo, can’t touch this.