Jiminy Grasshopper

2:14AM, May 10th, 2007

It turns out the demonic cockroach I described here is actually a little brown grasshopper.

After my first (and second) scurried attempt to kill it, I’ve grown affection for the little guy. I guess I find a resistance to harsh chemicals endearing. It also doesn’t hurt to believe he isn’t trying to spread disease into my lungs.

He stayed in my bedroom the other night, and while I was writing one of my many essays he leaped in here for a visit. Before I left for uni today he walked with me for a while, and I last saw him at the top of the stairs.

I hope I don’t stand on him.

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Dress Ups

6:35PM, May 8th, 2007

Like A Rinestone Cowboy

I was flicking through my blog archives the other day trying to find something I had written. I stumbled across a promise I had made to dig out a photo of me dressed as The Joker from Batman. I had never done it, but thought I’d take the opportunity to rummage through some old boxes and see if we still had those old photos.

What I found was a little startling… It seems I was wearing a different costume in every single photo! I really enjoyed dressing up. Not much has changed, I guess.

The above photo just proves that some of us are born with out sense of style completely developed*. Check out the flickr photoset I made for more photographic evidence.

* It also proves that an intolerance for dirty carpet CAN develop over the years. Eeeww!

Posted in Uncategorized | 8 Comments


Strung Up

1:16AM, May 8th, 2007

I lost count of how many times my jaw dropped tonight.

I’m in the middle of a really hectic period at uni. I have a large pile of work due this week that I am really slogging my guts out to get through, but it really felt like it was going to be a tight squeeze. I knew that I had tuesday and thursday (minus the times I am tutoring) to work on the biggest essay (the rest of it is pretty much done now, thanks to me not leaving this chair for a few days). Then Adam reminded me of the orchestra rehearsal on thursday night, ruling out that time. I did know about it, but it was just off the screen in iCal so I didn’t see it.

Then the director for the next show I’m working on (back to the musical director job) with the reminder (this was NOT in iCal), that the next show has its information nights next tuesday. To make matters worse, there is no score yet, so I’ll have to find the music, do all the prelim work before auditions and get all the copies of the music and recordings made. Before Tuesday. Easy, right.

Well, yes. If i didn’t have a meeting on Sunday and (hopefully for a sanity break) a night out Sunday. In fact, starting Sunday I won’t have a night at home until the following Sunday. At least one of those nights I’ll be in Sydney seeing Pippin. On top of this, I have a survey to develop before this coming monday for the committee meeting.

And it seems I’m moving house that weekend too. And I gotta pack. Everything.

Yay for premature hair loss. Quick, someone get me a tub of Haagen-daz coconut icecream and a Marlon Brando film so I can disappear for a while.

On the other hand, I have a new haircut and a new red shirt (my first red shirt), so I feel like a new girl. Just with the same problems.

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Clean As A Whistle

1:51AM, May 6th, 2007

Phillip Gets Clean

Last weekend Phillip was still in town for his working holiday. As he recounted on his website (not work safe, you’ve been warned), I gave him a few pointers on using his camera in a variety of settings. I tried to explain what aperture and shutter speed meant and how they affected the camera in the hopes of getting him using AV or TV mode on his camera, but I think I just confused him more.

After dinner, he asked Greg whether his bathtub was clean (which seemed to embitter Greg even moreso) and dragged me up to the bathroom for a “fauxto-shoot”. As he dabbed around the tub with his socks I heard him mumble “This isn’t clean at all,” but eventually climbed in. The aim was to test his camera against mine in this “setting”… or something.

I occassionally get an email from Phillip asking about some technical issue to do with his website. I usually spend too much time digging up information before he sends through the post script email: “Remember, they have to allow adult content!”

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Pest Chains

5:56PM, May 2nd, 2007

It’s amazing what life holds…

  • I’ve had chest pains since 5am this morning and have had fun listening to people’s amateur diagnoses. Hrm, mild indigestion or a massive heart attack… I guess time will tell!
  • Two boganish women caught the bus home from town with one of the ladies small daughter, named Ashaya or something equally faux-original. What ever happened to using names people can remember like Jane, Barbara or Henrietta?
  • My errands today included a run to the copy house where I was once again misquoted (this time in the good way). Seriously, that place needs to actually develop a price list and share it with their employees. I’ve now been charged 90cents and $1.40 for exactly the same colour A4 print. It’s also the most out of control workplace I’ve seen. The foyer floor hasn’t been vacuumed since 1973 and the work area is just unbelievably crazy. How I’d love to go all OCD in there and put a system in place for workflow.
  • A few nights ago a cockroach immigrated to my bedroom. I spotted him (or her, the pattern on its back was quite pretty) and sent the customary telepathic signal of “If you leave right now, neither of us has to get hurt”. Making no move I grabbed the spray. I gave it a good dousing - or so I had hoped. The can was empty! The cockroach ran under my bed, but when I moved the bed, it was gone! Now, my bedroom has barely anything in it but a bed, bedside drawers and clothes. I spent the next hour cleaning up all my clothes on the floor, giving them a good shake for the cockroach. No luck! I moved all the furniture, went through the drawers, NOTHING. This was the Houdini of Disease Carrying Insects! After about 1 1/2 hours I called it quits and collapsed into my very tightly tucked in bed sheets.
  • I recieved an international cheque a few weeks ago and figured I should go and cash it, along with a few other cheques that had amassed. I had to take the international cheque to another counter where I asked about the fees. I did some sums in my head with the conversion rate and figured I’d still get $30 out of it. The woman protested, “No, you wouldn’t.” I asked her to work it out properly, and she calculated $31.05. Lick it, woman. She kept sliding the cheque back over towards me, and I kept pushing it back. “Yes, please cash it. I want the $30.” Well, well, little did I know the woman had to write a thesis about the pros and cons of international fiscal trading, and needed to get clearance in triplicate from the heads of all secret societies. I glaced over apologetically at the lady who was next in line as she waited and waited. Eventually she slid into the chair at the next desk and I heard she was activating her Visa Debit card. Relax, you’ll be there for a while. I suddenly didn’t feel so bad.
  • The bus was full of crazies today. Aside from Ashaya’s mum and friend, one woman was dealing with two screaming toddlers. It wasn’t until she was getting off that the father moved down to help the woman manouver the kids and extra wide pram. Like, what? While the kids were screaming and throwing things, he never thought to actually help out his partner down the front? Another man smelt like poo and sweat mixed in a big bowl, left out in the sun, and then a crazy man came and urinated on it. Really. Pee-you.
  • I got off the bus with another gentleman who I tried pretty hard to avoid. Despite my earphones, he started to make conversation. “How about those iPods,” he semi-asked, through my music. “Yeah.” It turns out after chatting to him that he used to be a trombone and euphonium player in Willoughby Symphony Orchestra (he knew too much about music to be lying), and then told me he left it to earn more money as a labourer. After his drug use and smoking (and seemingly crushed sense of self worth), his lung capacity no longer enough to let him get work as a brass player. His message was clear: Satisfaction doesn’t come in the form of money. Now, I don’t really believe in fate, karma and those stones that people rub in their girly bits, but was this a sign? A message from above during my delicate mid-mid-life crisis as a deadline for my decision is quickly forthcoming? Yay or nay, I still lied and said I had to walk the long way to end our conversation for the day.

    Posted in Uncategorized | 6 Comments


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    A twenty-two year old ex-student, musician, performer with a degree in creative arts with little idea what to do with it.


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