I'll see you anon.

End of the year.
It came as it always does, but the difference this year is that I can say that I am a third of the way through a degree. Most years, the later months brought about the realisation that although I am a year older, approaching thirty far more quickly that I ever thought possible, I still laugh at people when they trip over. I hoped a partially completed degree would get me respect and admiration from all those I passed, but it mostly got me addicted to 2 minute noodles and the phrase "I'll do it after I watch this episode of Star Trek".

There have been many changes. Mostly I find myself using words like sedulous, contumacious and even dude, whilst taking out pretentious books from the library. I've contemplated the idea of smoking a pipe on campus and searched for tweed jackets on eBay. I've spent a great portion of time sitting in the sun on Bush Court, eating Bubble O Bill's and laughing at my own jokes. I've received a decent amount of inquiring stares from the multitude of 18 year olds in my tutorials, who never thought that 25 year olds would ever wear bright yellow M&M's t-shirts.

Although I enjoyed my year, there are things that I would have liked to have changed, and maybe some stuff that I would have done. I would have spent more time in the library. I would have talked to many more people. I would have listened to my iPod less and smiled more. I would be more prepared but less worried. I would sleep more and be nicer. I guess that's why they give you three or so years to figure it out. 2010 will bring with it a smiling, studying, successful uber graduate. That's me.

Although this year is over and this blog was started with the intention to give others thinking of returning to study an idea of one person's first year experience, I shall continue on until I feel I am no longer humorous (and yes that means I think I am damn funny right now).

Writing is like free therapy. I get to be less insane and you get to laugh at me. It's a symbiotic relationship.

Okay. I know. I'm terrible.

So you would think I would have some great excuse for my recent blog absence. "Maybe she has been training to be a brain surgeon in her spare time", some of you may have been thinking but the truth is far less exciting. I went a little blank. Everything I wrote ended up being more like a Christmas shopping list, or an uninspired note that you write on the fridge to let your housemates know that the light upstairs in the hallway has blown. So instead of subjecting you all (Mum and Ben) to drivel while I am out there in the real world living it up with my red parking permit that I received as a prize for doing this blog, I kept silent. And you know silence can be good. Silence is when I get my good ideas. And silence can bring about order and even a little peace. So while I am brewing up something tasty for next week, here is my latest assignment that I submitted for my Creative Writing unit.

Enjoy.

I demand you to.

First Impressions

Her neon dress clutched desperately to her robust frame, slightly transparent in parts where the material struggled to contain what was inside. A chubby hand, rows of rings, sometimes two a finger, pulled at her hem. She exposed her white knickers to the waiting traffic at the crossroad, whether or not it was intentional or by accident wasn’t clear as she sat on the bench behind her, legs crossed, one animal print boot bobbing nervously in the air. Her tortoise shell glasses were pushed awkwardly forward, barely clinging to the tip of her nose, as she peered back and forth over the top of the lenses. They obviously spoiled her vision but I guess they were part of her look. Her long straw-like blond hair was held off her face with a multitude of plastic butterfly clips, some covered in glitter. Bangles, bent into slightly oblong shapes filled her wrists, while strings of brightly coloured beads slowly choked her as they wound tighter and tighter around the rolls of her neck. The contents of her bag had begun to leak out, but she didn’t seem to care. It was like her life was on offer to any who bothered to snatch it up. She knew they wouldn’t.

She looked vague, like she had switched off, feeling life was just too hard. She’d probably been brought up in a family with lots of other children. Quiet. Shy. Her only way of standing out was the outlandish clothes she wore. Her stamp of individuality. Life, in all likelihood, wouldn’t have gotten easier for her as she grew. Finding herself in and out of lover’s arms collecting addictions as she went. Alcohol would have been her drug of choice. Cheap and legal but still powerful enough to blur the hours of nothing into passing seconds. Like sleep, allowing escape and offering protection from stretching loneliness. She most probably spoke seldom, a lacking self-confidence convincing her she had nothing of interest to say.

I sat down on the bench beside her, giving her an encouraging smile, letting her know that there was someone out there who saw her and possibly even cared. Despite her strange appearance I could tell she was a good woman, just starved of the right conditions to thrive. Given the fortunate opportunities that I had, I was sure she would have turned out just like my Nanna.

I liked her.

“You a lesbian?”
My hand automatically flew up and felt my closely cropped hair and I laughed nervously at her bluntness.
“No”
“Short hair. No Makeup. Little bit chubby round the middle. You sure you ain't a lesbian?”
“Yep, pretty sure thanks.”
“Well I guess we can’t all be the pretty ones right? You know Darwin. Survival of the fittest and all. Ugly’s just natures way of separating us all so eventually the good lookin’ ones will survive.”

I was shocked that my Nanna-like creature could actually be so obnoxious. I couldn’t believe how wrong I was about her, but I nodded politely, actually hoping my silence would discourage her from continuing.

She spied my Coles green bag.
“It’s all about saving the fuckin environment these days”
“I know, that fucking environment. What’s it done for us lately?”
My sarcasm was lost on her and I realised that I had just fuelled her anger. I berated myself for attempting to be witty.
“Exactly! It’s getting hotter, which means I had to invest in a brand new wardrobe this summer. The environment gonna pay for that? Nah. And then I can’t even get a cleaning guy to come and clean the gunge off my pool so I can cool me’ self down. You wanna save the environment? Come round and clean me pool, that’s an environmental hazard I’d like to see cleaned. I’d donate to a guy rattling a tin for the freaking “Clean Our Pools Foundation”.

She elbowed me in the ribs, laughter shaking the Lycra covered rolls that tumbled down her midsection.

“Now just don’t get me started on those dole bludgers. I mean I have always…”
I jumped up, waving at an imaginary friend across the road, excusing myself before things could get worse.

I hated her.