there is no prune

Today I woke up at eleven thirty and spent about an hour in the shower, just because I could. Then I went downstairs and blew up at my mother for nagging me about doing volunteer work for some Jewish organisation (I've actually been thinking vaguely about volunteering somewhere, so I don't know why - it was probably the excessive quoting of statistics that got me). Thus my theory that the reason I'm not actually human in the mornings is because I'm hungry is proven by process of elimination. Although you would think somebody who has lived with me for eighteen years would have noticed this already. Note to future roommates, travel buddies and spouses: keep in a supply of sandwiches for your own safety. Rar.

Speaking of showers, outside the sky is falling. The entire Pacific ocean is pouring down on Sydney from above. This isn't god weeping, this is god and all his angels having screaming hysterical tantrums, bawling, sobbing like children, a nervous breakdown of clouds. I love it.

Today I'm enrolling at UTS. I'll bring my trenchcoat.


Links (from Neil Gaiman's blog): I knew we weren't being original on year eight summer camp, Natasha!
If I lived in the US or were marginally less pissed at the US Post, I would buy so many buttons

rain is actually very nice for singing in

I am now enrolled in my first year of university classes! Sadly Communications has a high bullshit ratio - each semester in this year has one writing technique class and three classes with names like "power and modernity" and no electives at all. I could have done with even just one elective this year. I don't really need contemporary culture and rethinking culture, do I?

It's still raining. It hasn't stopped at any point since this morning. Strength and stamina, oh my. I wore the trench coat. I also gave into an impulse created by the concurrence of my increased eyeliner proficiency and bandom_recs and drew mirrored question marks on my cheeks. Just because I could. Then I arrived at UTS, filled in a bunch of forms, convinced the IT desk that I do in fact exist and thus need an email account, and went to get my student ID only to discover that, oh hey, they've gotta take your photo. Um, says I. Whoops, says I. Uh... does anyone have a tissue?

My quick trip to the bathroom to scrub at my face with that weird pink stuff from the soap dispensers proved to be fortuitous for I returned to the photo station just in time to make friends with Girl November¹, who goes by her middle name, Fei Fei, on account of it being somewhat less silly sounding than "Novi." Personally I think it's cool to be named after a month that isn't April through August. She was lamenting the timing of the photo that would have to last her three years when her braces were only meant to last three months. We bonded over the general madness of ID photos and went to lunch. By which I mean we wandered vaguely in the rain until we stumbled upon Chinatown, where we shared some noodles and compared the respective sogginess of our shoes.

And I came home with really wet ankles, and now it's time for pilates!

¹Tangentially, what do people think on the use of pseudonyms for folk who feature in my journal entries? I've noticed at least three people on my flist do this, but they usually have much larger reader bases than me. I mean, I don't think my friends are really in danger of stalking from randoms who find my journal, right? And it's not like I normally use last names. So is this a silly affectation or a good idea?

let me guess, still raining?

What the hell, Sydney! We don't even have a monsoon season!