Jiminy Cricket

What is it like going back to study after quite a few years off? Apart from the drastic change in disposable income and the painful reintroduction to essay writing, I have had noticed an old friend slowly infiltrating my life. It began with dulcet whisperings, familiar to my ears yet strangely unknown, like a voice on the wind. Slowly this voice became louder, my friend announcing his presence with far more verbosity, traipsing through my mind wearing Doc Martins to bruise my very soul.

It was then I had to acknowledge that Jiminy Cricket had returned.

Now for those who have never heard of Pinocchio, he was a little wooden puppet brought to life, who had some issues with lying. He also had an acquaintance, Jiminy Cricket, who was his conscience, telling him what is right and what is wrong. I too, had my own Jiminy Cricket, specifically he was my conscience relating to study. Throughout high school he made appearances when I would play hacky sack instead of study, or write letters (yes, letters! The things that people used to communicate before email was around) decorated with fanciful multicoloured texta concoctions, instead of listening to the teacher talking about Oedipus.

When I left school and began my working life, this presence began to fade, so slowly I did not even notice he was gone. I worked in jobs where you simply did your eight hours of work and the rest of the day was yours to do with what you will. No homework, no study, no constant realisation that there was some kind of work that you could be doing.

But now I am back at uni, every time I do anything unrelated to my education, I am left with a guilty feeling, knowing that I could be using my time more appropriately. That spending 12 hours one day trying to finish the 1989 Super Nintendo version of Super Mario Bros. all the while telling myself that is in fact related to my uni work, as I had a debate on the significance of computer games in society coming up, was in fact a highly enjoyable way of avoiding researching 2 major essays that I have due in the next fortnight.

Jiminy Cricket and I, although we have many differences and some days I feel like attacking him with a can of fly spray, are slowly learning to work together. He's always there, making sure that I don't waste too much of my time with my Nintendo and although I hate him for it, the feeling I get when my assignments are handed in on time is worth it.

The Mecca of Space Food Enthusiasts

Okay, so this blog is not specifically related to uni, but as a student, high energy snack food is crucial in effective study and I was just far too excited about my discovery not to include this here..........

On my latest grocery shopping escapade to Woollies I made a momentous discovery.

Now I am a bit of a wanderer when it comes to grocery shopping, I like to take my time, saunter down each aisle, perusing the shelves carefully to see what is on offer. I think this is born from the fact that I don't actually get out that much, and that a trip to the local co-op is in fact a highlight of my week.

Now, as I am a fairly healthy person I normally skip the chocolate/biscuits aisle, but on this occasion I threw caution to the wind and hesitantly stepped foot into the brightly coloured wizz-bang passageway of junk food. What possessed me? Was it a gnawing curiosity of what lay inside these multitudes of shelves containing pretty boxes and packets? Or was it simply low blood sugar? Whatever it was, I soon found myself surrounded by a variety of advertising ploys aimed at everyone, from white-trash toddlers, to upper-class baby boomers. Because when it comes to junk food, there is no discrimination based upon race, religion, age or class. Everyone loves a bit of sugar and fat rolled into a great tasting and euphoria-inducing snack. Jumping out at me were psychedelic cartoon characters and neon animals to entice the kiddies. At the other end of the scale were seductive images, rich colours and expensive looking packaging to beguile even the most aloof of adults

So as I wandered slowly, my senses heightened by the sheer excitement, taking in the Old Gold, the Chicos, the Oreo’s of various flavours and the more expensive boxed gift chocolates on the fringes, I spotted something I never would have expected. Something, that if you told me that morning still existed, I wouldn’t have believed you. I would have called you a liar, a cheat, and promptly thrown you from my home. Something I believed to exist only in my past along with Slap Bands, War Heads and Hyper colour t-shirts. I spotted on a bottom shelf, underneath the Savings Brand jelly beans, tucked away, almost hoping to remain unseen, several boxes of Space Food Sticks in their somehow familiar red boxes, with a BMX bike rider on the front.

My reaction was dramatic. My pulse quickened, my mouth became dry and my hands sweaty. I looked around furtively, hoping no one appeared to break the spell that had been cast on me. Was it real? Was I dreaming? Were they really playing “Everything I do, I do it for you” by Bryan Adams over the PA system or had I actually travelled back in time to 1991 when the love affair with space food began? I approached the small red boxes carefully, like you would a mirage, or the end of a rainbow desperately hoping that they wouldn’t disappear when you got close. Only when my fingers closed around the cardboard edges did I return to 2007 and the fluorescent glare of the supermarket aisle, with an over-whelming sense of fulfilment coursing through my veins.

My excitement was palpable, in my wildest dreams I never would have even dared to imagine a return of the beloved Space Food Stick. I thought I was just going to have to continue living a half-life, never feeling content with the snack food available to me. But Lady Luck had sparkled in my direction and brought back my favourite childhood treat.

I finished my shopping in a daze, frequently averting my gaze to the spot in my trolley where my Space Food Sticks lay, seemingly giving off a soft glowing aura. As I approached the checkout and reached for my purse, it’s lightness jolted me back to reality and the memory of my limited shopping budget returned to me. I had arrived at the moment of truth. Do I forsake the holy grail of snack foods, or the nutritious foods that will sustain me throughout my days? My decision was instinctive, my movements swift, as I hid a head of lettuce, some potatoes and an ear of corn behind the chilling drinks that preceded the checkout.

I held my breath as each electronic beep of the scanner brought me closer to my monetary limit, each time fearing it would be the end of my dream. I let out a gasp when she finished, so loud that I startled several of the checkout team and with a huge, slightly frightening smile, I handed over my money and took into my possession the Mecca of space food enthusiasts.

Now, some of you may have never had the great honour of eating food that has been especially designed for consumption by astronauts. Astronauts don’t just get your average Joe Bloe kinda of snack food. They get highly engineered, extensively researched and packed-full-of-flavour kind of treats. They are not like your ordinary human, who has to be a slave to gravity or who extols the virtues of ‘life on earth’. They have experienced life beyond earth and for that they treated like Gods, with their dehydrated Neapolitan ice cream and nutrient-dense food in stick form.

When you eat space food you wonder why you have spent your entire life eating food of the plebs when you could have been living the high life. It’s like drinking Moet when all you have had in the past is Passion Pop, or Heinz baked beans when you have been filling up on Home brand. Horizons are expanded, and a brighter future rears its head. Where you previously saw bad you now see good. Where you saw traffic lights, you now see trees. Wandering teenagers turn magically into frolicking antelopes. Airplanes into heavenly maidens playing celestial tunes on their harps. The world you thought existed was merely an appearance to a mind lacking knowledge and experience of space food. For connoisseurs of the space food genre, the sky’s the limit.

When I left the shop, I headed towards my car, clutching my prize to my chest and hissing at passing shoppers, who in no doubt in my mind, were coveting my discovery and plotting to kill me. I slid into the car, hastily locking the doors and disentangled myself from the green bag that contained my loot. As I removed the box, with the BMX rider smiling knowingly at me, I heard strains of the celestial music and I knew at once that my moment had come. I eased out the first stick and removed it from it’s wrapping. The first stick was always the greatest because you knew there were still five left, just waiting to be consumed. I took my first bite and I knew that my memory had not fooled me. The sweet chocolaty flavour and chewy texture brought me to the verge of tears, so much so, that I almost reversed into the trolley return. My return trip back from the shops was exceptional, each Space Food Stick providing even more pleasure then the last. Sadness only came when my hand reached the bottom of the box, but I reminded myself that greatness must not abused and space food was not to be trifled with.

No one person has the power to possess all the space food in the world and we must be grateful for what small allowances we are given.

As for why there is a BMX rider on the front of a Space Food Stick box? It is a mystery that many great sages have spent their entire life trying to answer. Maybe when we can answer that we will attain enlightenment and live permanently in the bliss of the space food variety.

Meet my fellow Murdoch Bloggers... I insist

I am not the only one ranting about my first year at Murdoch. For more hilarity and interesting insights into Murdoch life, please check out the following link.

http://www.murdoch.edu.au/News/Meet-our-1st-year-bloggers/

Statistics made me do it

Statistics show that those who do not make friends within the first few weeks of university are far more likely to drop out, not finish their degree, and most probably continue to lack essential social skills throughout the rest of their lives, relegating them to solitary careers, such as Night Filler at Coles, or Web Designers. Since I do in fact want to become a web designer one day, I was torn between which road to follow, leaning slightly towards staying friendless as it seemed to add to the mystique that I have been working so hard on attaining. I mean, I already have friends don’t I? Friends that know what my favourite drink is, how many tattoos I have, whether I am a morning or night person. Friends who have shared many a hilarious moment, who at the mere mention of the word ‘snowpea’ fall into peals of laughter recalling a shared experience. Friends who aren’t fazed by my tendency to over dramatise everything, and to tell stories with many unnecessary flourishes of the hands, as if I am an old Italian man, hawking his wares on the streets of Sicily. Why would I want to make new friends who wouldn’t appreciate the intricacies that make me….well me? Because if I was to one day become a successful web designer, I would need a degree. And to get a degree, according to statistics, I would need uni friends.

So begins the hunt. Each person I passed now was a potential friend. Although I had many people in my classes who I would give a cursory wave to as we passed each other, there was no one who I would have invited over to my grandmothers house for her famous Chicken Schnitzel (as I have now been vegetarian for five years, I would be served the famous frozen fake chicken nuggets, made from soy, instead, of course). I felt like a hunter stalking its prey, considering each person and deciding whether or not to take the shot. Those I considered ‘good meat’, I would stalk, placing myself in their path so they had no choice but to say hello to me and realise in that instant that I was a great friend to have and would bring much humour and chocolate into any relationship. Those who were ‘bad meat’ were swiftly avoided allowing them to continue on with their herd, unknown to my presence.

One day, as I was scouting Bush Court for potential friends, I heard a call.

“Kacy” it yelled, rattling me, as I knew that it wasn’t a common name and therefore was most likely to be referring to me. I turned and saw in the distance, herded into a neat circle, basking in the sun and sharing the kill they called ‘lunch’, a group of people from one of my tutorials. I was unsure, as I turned to walk towards them, to whether their call was one of mocking my loner status, or a genuine offering of friendship. I felt like I had now become the hunted, my body tense, like a deer startled by a hunter, ready to bound away at the first sign of danger. Nose to the air, sniffing out anything to indicate friend or foe. Wariness clung to my steps even though a smile graced my face. As I greeted those I knew and waved broadly to those I didn’t, I began to worry that I had in fact misheard their call and had just plonked myself, uninvited into their circle, demanding friendship. Their smiles and joking manner, however, put me at ease and I even began to speak with subdued hand gestures, not wanted to scare them off this early, but giving them a taste of what it was like to be friends with me.

Even though they didn’t know my favourite brand of soy milk, or that I was learning to play the piano, these people were genuine, kind and funny. And I realised that all friendships start small and eventually, as well as keeping me on track with my degree, these people that I was sitting with could very well, one day know everything there is to know about me.

You know you're a student when....

Today I came into some money.

As dodgy as that sounds, it involved no pick-pocketing, swindling or even gambling. I simply got a refund and found myself with the dizzying amount of $65 at my complete disposal. Now in the past, when my income far surpassed my daily expenses, a windfall of $65 would go unnoticed, taken for granted, slipped into my wallet to be left unthought of between some old Supa Value receipts and shopping lists. Or it would be spent on a new season of Quantum Leap on DVD. Or a set of Superman pyjamas that I had been lusting over on eBay. Or a Nintendo character stuffed toy from Fremantle, most probably Yoshi, to add to my collection. In fact, pretty much anything non-essential. But now as a newly poor student, still reeling from my first pay slip since going part time, I clutched my unexpected $65 desperately to my chest, hissing and snarling at passers-by, as I was convinced they were out to rob me. The idea of spending my money on anything remotely exciting and fun didn't even cross my mind, as I ran out straight to the supermarket to buy food. Now it's not like I have been without any kind of food for weeks or anything, but the pleasure I felt at buying chocolate flavoured soy milk, capsicum and a really big box of Nutri Grain was possibly more appropriate for say, the birth of one's first child.

I'll be eating well tonight.