Cup-lettes

I really like the Rowden White,

The chairs are plush, the staff polite

It's the place to go, with time to burn

There's just one rule: don't try to learn

They let you be, they don't take names

If you watch TV or play some games

They play you films, if you've a gap

They've even got a place to nap

Need a break before your final?

They'll lend you both CDs and vinyl

Special sections for every fetish-

And Fifty Shades, if you're coquettish 

Comic books (if you're a layman),

The collected works of Neil Gaiman!

All you could want, in one little cuddy,

So come inside, but, for the love of God, please don't study

Guess which library re-opened today? Also, apropos of nothing, rhymezone.com has had a redesign and I don't like it. 

A series of unfortunate events

I've just completed a syntax assignment; it might not have been pretty, it might not have been clever, but I got it in and that's what counts (that's what he said).

It felt odd to be doing an assignment and not complaining to Becky about it. In fact, I had to do the entire thing without any of the regulars (yet again, totally what he said); Becky going on about how she'll fail and spectacularly failing to fail, Rosie not starting until a month after the deadline and breaking her foot, James knowing all the answers and not telling me AND seeing a point to studying syntax and not telling me.
Yes, much like the final season of house, all the regular characters and their endearingly frustrating antics were gone, leaving only one incredibly grizzled, beaten man to try and solve yet another pointless and nonsensical mystery on his own and pulling the answer out of his ass at the last moment.

I totally just compared myself to Hugh Laurie.

Above: me. Definitely.

Doing a syntax assignment usually comes with a sense of camaraderie; we were all storming the beaches of futility together and even if we weren't enjoying ourselves (except for Jimmy boy, being the rough and tumble scot that he is), we were at least together. Now, it's just me: I did speak to some others in the class about the assignment, and even tried expressing my disdain for it, but either ozzies are much more studious than Brits or I was talking to the squares because they simply didn't get me.
Alack.
The only comfort is that Becky will have to do an assignment without me...whining. That'll show her?


It was also odd to not be on facebook during an assignment- just as workplaces have coffee breaks, assignments have facebook breaks; but, having kicked the metaphorical caffeine habit, I resorted to the much more productive les mis breaks, where I would watch the trailer for the upcoming film:

and then one of the songs, chosen at random from the jauntier numbers:

and I'd pantomime along. Of course, I had to be silent, still being in the Rowden White.

In my defense, it's a really good trailer, and the soundtrack is possibly the best of any musical ever. The sad thing is, this lead to me singing 'I dreamed a dream' to myself, and several accused me of wanting to be Susan Boyle.
Shame on them. This song existed long before the scotswoman claimed it as her signature, and I've had it stuck in my head (rotating with 'Kiss me' and Invocal's back catalogue) since I was in a production of this stirring show, what, eight years ago? Damn. Let's have a moment of silence for my adolescence, shall we?

Anyway, the outcome is I'm super-excited for the new Les Mis film and everyone in the Rowden White thinks I'm a loser, which I guess is better than narc.

In other news, after finishing the ordeal, an ordeal being the collective noun for syntax questions, I treated myself to some ice cream from the student union and then went and sat in the sunshine to enjoy it. As I merrily licked away at my treat (Oreo flavoured, you know) what should descend upon me but a dire raven?

Not pictured: The dire raven. P.S. Got to watch some of TWWOO to try and screencap the raven (failed miserably), but it still makes me so very happy to watch that video. I love you all, wherever you are.

This thing was huge; the ozzie everyman who happened to be sitting opposite even felt compelled to comment on it. It landed next to me, more vulture than bird, and set its beady eye upon me and, more importantly, my ice cream. And then this happened:

I jest. It flew off. But I was kinda concerned with said ozzie said, quite cheerfully, 'he'll 'ave your eye out, no bother'. Thanks. I really wanted to know that, mate.

And then, after finishing the ice cream, I treated myself to some democracy. Yes, I voted in the student elections. I'll spare you the tedium, except for one piece of trivia which I want to share: you weren't allowed to vote for the 'Queer Officers' unless you identified as queer. I have no idea how they planned to enforce this (penile pathismograph?), but it was there, written on the paper. Also worth noting: the woman on the desk told me that I should just skip the Queer officer page, as it wouldn't apply to me.
The Aussies really aren't that good at guessing.

Oh, and I almost forgot to mention, mis padres have been reading and accused me of poor mathematics; I claimed I was here for eight weeks on 30th August, and they said it was six. Well, sucks to be both of us, cos it's actually seven. The difference between you and me, dad? I don't use maths for my job. Learn to count.

Two drifters, off to see the world

Another piece of evidence that the Rowden White natives are starting to accept me as one of their own: I was given a free mars bar with my headphones and PC this morning. Spiffing.

I actually managed to beat someone at a sport this weekend- and not just anyone, either. It was Adrian, who owns multiple sports shirts (which somehow make him look kinda like the knave of hearts).

Go Dropbears!

Admittedly, the game was air hockey, which, granted, hasn't made it into the olympics quite yet, but I'm pretty sure it involves hand-eye co-ordination or something. So, go me.

This weekend also saw the largest party I have ever managed to gather for my evening constitutional; an entire six people! This was mainly due to the alcohol the other five had imbibed, which made the stroll feel a bit more like taking the family's pack of inebriated, hyperactive dogs for a walk, but it was still a pleasant evening.

The pliant one is now in the great white North, which feels odd. I was already half-a-world away from him, but now he's not even in the place I left him, not unlike my house keys; if I was to go back now, he wouldn't be there. I feel like Andy in Toy Story. I don't know why, cos that doesn't happen in those films. I just identify with him on a base level, I guess.

Above: Esmond and me, I guess.

Anyway, I'm now listening to 'When Somebody Loved Me' from Toy Story 2, and it's bumming me out so I'm gonna go. I have more adventures scheduled with the doctor this evening; let's hope it's more The Unicorn and the Wasp than Love and Monsters. 

The most pithy

There have been several hints today that I'm becoming, how to put this delicately?, acclimatised to the Rowden White. For example, all the computers now suggest my username in the drop box on Google (thankfully they do not suggest my password). Then, not only did the librarians immediately recognise me and remember my preference for PCs over Macs, but they even made a joke about my propensity to forget to pick up my card at the end- silly British guy. And, finally, to top it all off, when I typed 't' into the address bar, it immediately suggested 'TV Tropes' and then a list of all the tropes I've researched in my continuing battle to discover why life is less interesting than webcomics.
*Sniff* I feel so wanted!

In other news, I'm now part of a weekly writers' group that meets on Mondays, led by the eleventh doctor.

A deleted scene from 'The Doctor, the Widow and the Wardrobe', and indeed, the only bit where anything actually happened.

I think I'm at the forefront to become the next companion, being by far the most British, but there is a pretty Indian girl, and, affirmative action being what it is, it might be time to bust some kneecaps. And maybe dig out the bowtie Rosie made for me.


What else? I've become a minor celebrity in the ole Yarra due to my laureate-worthy musings; the upside, lots of people have told me I have a real talent and should write a book (so tempted to direct them to Darkwater library). The downside? Someone, who I don't know, came up to me in the kitchen yesterday and told- not asked, told- me to recite the same poem. I mean, I know I'm amazing and all, but try and control yourself, people.

P.S. Dan, your tree is coming- keep a weather-ear to the ground.

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.

A thousand words

Just a quick note to say some of you (like, two out of four) might have noticed that my profile pic has changed twice in the last day. The first change was to the infamous Rowden White sign, seen here:

Ladies.

Whilst I do adore this sign and all it represents, I cannot claim to have had any part in its production; I took the photo (cue swoons), yes, but the central joke is not mine. And so I felt bad flaunting it (this is also why I changed from my original pic, which I also adore, but which was made by the lovely Rosie Curtis). The new pic was not drawn by me, but is a picture of me, sketched by Darryl (who you may remember from my initial rec room 2 post- I don't think he's shown up since). You can see a larger version here:

A commemorative, non-olympiad stamp.

I feel it's ok to display this because while I didn't create it, I was the muse and thus contributed to its creation.

This note ended up not being that quick.

Penguins and possums and fruit bats, oh my!

PENGUINS.

Sorry, I like to think I'm normally slightly more eloquent than that, but it has to be said: I SAW PENGUINS IN THE WILD! Real, live, tiny, cute, shy, beautiful PENGUINS!
John, a fellow Yarra-n, took Jason and me out to St. Kilda's beach last night; a short walk along the pier, a hop, skip and a jump along a frankly somewhat perillous walkway spanning the riled ocean, and there they were.

PENGUINS.

Real, live, fuzzy, breathing, squawking PENGUINS! I was a foot away from one at one point- I could have reached out and touched him, had I so desired. I didn't, because that would have been cruel and I'm not a cruel person, but by God, it was tempting. The species I saw were called 'Little Penguins', changed from the not so PC 'Fairy Penguins'. And they look like this:


Ladies.

 They are the most adorable thing one could imagine, and one looked right at me with his beady little eyes and I genuinely wanted to just squeal (ask Jason and I probably did.) Sadly, I was only allowed to coo over them for about half-an-hour as we had to return before our parking ticket ran out. But I will return. I vow this. I will see more

PENGUINS.

Real, live, terrified, kidnapped, mine now PENGUINS.

Epilogue:
To make sense of the title, Jason and I went for a stroll before I trip to see the- well, you know. And we saw a fruit bat, very large, very fast, very close.
And then another.
And another.
Then four.
Then five.
You see where I'm going with this? There were hundreds, filling the sky, clogging the horizon with their slightly creepy silhouettes. It was slightly like the scene in the wizard of oz, where the witch sends her little minions out to get them! and I had to stop myself from calling out 'Monkeys' in a Rik Hart baritone. I elected not to so as not to annoy Jason by talking even more about TWWOO.
Then, on the way back, we saw a possum- smaller than the one which crossed my path a couple of weeks ago- he scarpered when he saw us: not up a tree, as expected, but down a train. Proving that a leopard may change its spots and a possum its exits.

Solitario Ror-hey!

So, today my parents left for Spain (it's alright for some- I'm just slumming it in Australia!), and will not be contactable by email during this time. Father instructed me to phone should the need for assistance arise, but alack, my mobile doesn't seem to work in the land of Oz.
I am on my own.
Granted, it's only for two weeks, which is not a lot of time; I've been out of contact with my parents for longer, certainly. But this time I am on the other side of the world, in a country where I am still very new; where I can't just make a transfer from my savings account if I mismanage my funds, because it takes a long time to transfer; where I can't contact Orla or Moira if something comes up.
I am on my own.
I understand I'm being melodramatic and that, most likely, this fortnight will pass without incident (I am trying to kick my habit of knocking on wood- right now is an ordeal, to say the least. It's just the knowledge that, should some thing go awry (this word should not rhyme with my name, Esmond), I will have to brave the storm without parental guidance. I could fall so much further than I ever have before, but I could also soar to new heights.
I am on my own.
Time to kick ass.

Our feature presentation

I come to you once more from the Rowden White, where, I've discovered, there are little signs on the desks reading 'please do not study'. I think I'm going to like it here.
Just checking in to inform you that last night I saw 'The Dark Knight Rises'; an awesome film, to be sure, but the experience around going was what I mainly wanted to talk about (however, I want to be the first to point out how much Bane sounds like Rik- 'Impossible!'). For one thing, we drove there; nearly all my antipodean peers can drive, it would seem, as their system of learning is much less strict than ours, from what I understand. I was trying to remember the last time I was in a car not driven by my parents, and I honestly drew a blank until I remembered back to the night after my Spanish exam, when the entire class went for tapas and we all drove back together, somewhat tipsy (I'm sure the driver wasn't...yeah, almost definitely sure). That was two years ago. I feel I was due a road trip with my fellows.
Also, I don't know if it's Australian cinema culture in general or just the particular screening I was in, but my word would Kermode have been appalled. Everyone was talking. About what was happening right there, in front of them, two seconds after it happened. I won't reveal the twist at the end of the film, suffice to say that mere moments after it happened, the person to my right predicted it for his mystified girlfriend. Well done you. Not. Plus, nearly everyone, including, I am ashamed to inform you, the very Australians I had travelled there with, had their phones out. One of my fellows' phones went off during the feature, revealing his ringtone to be theremin music, much to the delight of everyone, excepting myself. Guys, we've paid $11 for the privilege of watching this film- maybe we should do that instead of texting one another, yeah? Alack.
There is one other aspect of this experience I feel I should relate to you- after we all purchased our tickets, individually so as to avoid people having to barter about what was owed and to whom, I was found to be seated a row in front of all my fellows, entirely on my own. Well, I took my assigned seat as this seems to be the only aspect of the cinephile's code that it's not kosher to break in Oz, and waited and waited for others to arrive, so I would feel like less of a loser. Well, arrive they finally did; the couple who would squeal spoilers at one another once they'd already passed. I yelled a sarcastic 'Friends!' when they sat down next to me, turning to my fellows as I did.
At which point, the man switched places with his filly, so as not to be next to me.
Charming.

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.