The Four H's

Before coming here, I had to attend a lecture wherein I was told that I would go through the four stages of exchangeitude, called the four H's, these were:

• Honeymoon period- where everything is great, all the songs on the radio are about you and you're getting near constant lovin' (mom, dad please stop reading)
• Homesickness- you start to miss your friends, family, more reasonable prices, less noisy birds, more comprehensible accents, shorter games of cards, properly labelled Rice Krispies...
• Hostility- this university is silly, why can't they do more like Edinburgh does? I mean, that's the better system, clearly, so just stop being so contrary, Australia and just do what we tell you!
• Happiness- ok, it has its flaws, but at least there are no squirrels to worry about. I'm content.

I don't know which H I'm in- obviously, I'd like to say happiness, but I don't remember going through hostility ('cepting X-bar, but that's hardly Melbourne-specific), and I'm definitely not homesick (see below), meaning I must be in the Honeymoon period. This is worrying because it means all that other stuff's still to come. I can't imagine what I'll get homesick over (the last time was my bathtub), because I've pretty much replaced all my friends- I just need a Rik and a proper Daniel (Darryl has an accent, but that's pretty much where the similarities end). And hostility seems outlandish- I love it here! The lectures are more engaging (yet again, barring syntax), the campus eateries are more varied...writing this out has made me realise I am definitely in the honeymoon period. Well, damn. However, this does have an upside- I should have a bit of honeymoon left when the Pliant one begins his, meaning I won't feel miserable by comparison. Huzzah.

Quick side note: I skyped the 'rents yesterday, and it was exactly the same conversation we have when I talk to them back home: my mom worries I'm not getting out enough, my dad worries I'm spending too much and they both agree I don't contact them enough. If I'd recorded the conversation and bleeped out proper nouns (oh god, I'm flashing back to X-bar) it would have been indistinguishable from the dozens of other times I've skyped them. But, more to the point, we hadn't spoken for 34 days, and the conversation lasted 47 minutes. My mother said she felt it lasted long, but that it was only because we hadn't spoken for so long. By this mathematics, my mom wants us to talk for 98 seconds every day. Half that, and you've got yourself a deal, mother.
Of course, I shouldn't be so harsh, they are, after all, paying for me to be here (mum's defense, not mine). This, however, will not stop me being so harsh. Huzzah.

It's delovely

So O-week is over and today I started classes. I was in a game of assassins where I lasted a day before I was ousted by a team-up of Logan and someone I've never met before named Dan (who masqueraded as my target, James). Goddamn. All in all it was a successful week, I feel: I made some friends, had some laughs, got some free food and managed to assuege the gnawing solitude I'd been feeling at the bottom of my stomach. Worth the $35, I feel.
Of course, now the real work begins in the form of lectures- I started off with syntax, which is never a good sign and he mentioned X-Bar theory which is ALWAYS a bad sign, but it was mainly an introductory lecture, telling us where fire exits were and who to talk to if our Grandmother dies, etc. The jury's still out, but this is my third time trying to conquer the cold, cruel climate that is syntax and I hope to Helena that third time's a charm, lest I end up feeding myself to a croc. I have another lecture in two hours, which will no doubt be another introduction, but is on a subject that actually piques my curiosity, so my spirits remain elevated for the time being.
What else bears reporting? Hmm. My laptop charger is broken (again) so I'm writing this from the Rowden White Library, which I can't help but feel is a wee bit bohemian. You're allowed to sleep here, should you wish, and they're playing snow patrol, and, shock horror, the librarian's hair is dyed a non-natural colour, so I'm half-expecting to be called a nark any moment.
In terms of typical aussie animals that I've glimpsed, I can add kookaburra and possum to my bingo card, the former gossiping and guffawing around a birdbath and the latter staring down at me from a tree late on friday night. Quite unnerving, actually. I'm also encroaching on two weeks without facebook, which I feel is impressive, as the entire earth is geared towards it, it would seem. (Seriously, my lecturers are encouraging us to use it.) I remain resolute, but I wonder how long this will last. Alack. Anyway, I want to go explore this new library I have found and people are glaring at me for having been on the computer this long. I think I just heard 'nark' being whispered somewhere.
The wizard is out.