I'm trying to feed my soul with thought, gonna sleep off the rest of the day.

(Or: How can you tell when a place isn’t right for you?)

Monday:
I’m not sure if Psych is working out so great. Everything seems so groundless, and none of it seems to have anything tangible to go on. I can just see it now. “Holy smokes, commissioner! Saddam has escaped and stolen a nuclear arsenal!! But wait, before we warn the people, let’s try and psycho-analyze him, based on theoretical hypotheses and unfounded facts that may or may not ever be “proven” in the future…”
Right, so my imagination is into overdrive nowadays. But seriously, there is so much I don’t understand about people. I don’t know. Just maybe, studying Psychology isn’t the way. It doesn’t help to have all my classes at 9am, including a 3 hour lab on Mondays, and a 2 hour lecture on Fridays. They’re practically on their knees begging me to hate them.
8:58am on every Monday and Friday: “AAARGGGGHHHHH! **** Psych ****, **** *********! ****!!” [EXPLETIVES CENSORED BY BLOGSPOT MANAGEMENT. Ah it’s you again. We’re not running a cussing factory here, you know. Although those really were quite extraordinary. What’s wrong with you woman? You would think no one else ever had to get up so early.]

Tuesday:
Me so tired. Me not enjoying this. Me not like this place. Me wants compose poem, but me not remember how. Me will try anyhow.

The little bee is a busy soul
He has no time for birth control
And that is why
in times like these
there are so many sons of bees.
Me sad. So sad, me.
So what’s with the bees?

Wednesday:
I read this article about sexual imagery in the language of defense intellectuals. This lady, Carol Cohn, attended a summer workshop on nuclear weapons, which incidentally is dominated by men, and wrote this brilliant piece on it. It was really strange, stuff like “vertical erector launchers, thrust-to-weight ratio, soft lay-downs, deep penetration, and the comparative advantage of protracted versus spasm attacks” can be taken seriously. Those officials also have a habit of "patting" the missile (which is vaguely disturbing, why would you want to “pat” something which is going to destroy thousands of people?) and abbreviating most of their programs. Which makes me think that when you’re in an environment like theirs, with the lives of so many others at stake, maybe it’s rational to dehumanize your work. Like she mentioned this guy who said that they “don’t bomb people, (they) bomb shoe factories.” Honestly, that world doesn’t seem very rational to me, which is quite worrisome.

I have finished reading Kissinger’s Diplomacy. Talk about pro-american sentiment. Also, in other Rachel-related news, I have finally decided to start on my Cold War essay. (Cue dramatic orchestral music, which heightens to a climax and then ebbs out into sad tired pokes at a toy piano. Plink plink. Plink?) Maybe later. After a nap.

Thursday:
I was so sad all I wanted to do is curl up under my blankets and cry. I can’t go on like this. I miss home and I miss my friends. I miss the baby. I miss not feeling lonely; I miss my life. I want it all to get better now but it can’t. I don’t know how to make anything better. I just want to feel better.

Anyways, I finally started reading Gaddis’ We Now Know! Rethinking Cold War History. About a year too late huh.

Friday:
Yao, Jackson and I went to Pancake Parlour for dinner (where I learnt more about black holes and what would happen if you drill a hole through the Earth to the other side). It was so fun, we just sat there talking about a lot of nonsense for about 3 hours. After which we went to watch the Simpsons, Homer: “Why would you pay for something you can watch on TV for free?” Hmm I don’t know. (Cause I'm a sucker for cartoons on the big-screen that's why.) Today was probably one of the best times I had in awhile though. I realize this is sad, at least I know it right?

Saturday:
You know, I really should get started on my essay. But I’m in the throes of probably the most insidious writing block to ever be. Bleh. I guess it’s cause my head is still filled with popcorn and pancakes from yesterday. And what little grey matter I have left in my brain is slowly but surely being burned off by the gamma rays of those aliens hiding in the black holes. Aaiiiigh. I will just go do some free laundry.

Sunday:
I wake up at 8. (and… cue laugh track. Roll credits. Thank you.)

Take me disappearing through the smoke rings of my mind... far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow.

I woke up with a crappy headache this morning. So I’m just gonna start my blog posts as if we’re already in a middle of a conversation, if it’s alright with you. Yea, so just imagine we’ve been talking for a couple of minutes, and I grow sulkier and sulkier, until you finally blurt out “What’s the matter with you, fool?”, and I’ll reply that no, I’m actually not a fool, but I have a throbbing headache. Well, at least I have a good excuse to laze around in bed.

Things have been kinda dead lately. Not in a zombie way, but like a “monotonous craving for a monotonous response.” See? Finally these Lit quotes come in handy. I knew there was a good reason my brain chooses to retain these instead of my PIN and other important facts. But really, I’m bored. Come on, Canberra. Entertain me.

How is the workload, I hear you ask? It’s pretty okay so far, especially in my IR. It definitely helps to have a cute tutor. Not only is he a rationalist and supports the All Blacks like me, he’s frighteningly funny. A few times already over several tutorials he had me laughing so hard I got a little scared that I might not be able to stop. Yup, that dangerous mix of giddiness and terror—you can't beat that with a Wallaby supporter. IR never lets me down, I tell you.

Speaking of which, my psych course is starting to bother me. Not that I’m behind, but I don’t think I like it very much. Say on a scale of 1 to 100, I would be about 49ish. I realized that I care more about what people think than why they think a certain way. But it’s not exactly stabbing me with annoyance yet. It was quite fun last week, when they took my EQ. The test is based on five factors of Motivation, Self-regulation, Self-awareness, Social Skill and Empathy. I got a perfect score on four of the five factors except, of course, self-regulation. I would have punched someone in anger, but with my strong sense of self-control, I didn’t, and they still didn’t give me extra marks, those stingy psychos.

Good friends are really hard to come by. I swear, this will be the only part where I’m melancholic. I have friends here, and they’re incredibly nice to me, but I still feel quite detached. The jokes aren’t particularly funny, but I laugh anyway. I’m a horrible person. ACK. I guess I know things won’t be as fun if everything slides into place immediately. To be honest, my weariness amazes me.

Why are my posts always so darn long. (Quick, Rachel, post it before you return to your senses!)

The place I love best is a sweet memory, it's a new path that we trod.

Hello! How was your weekend? Was it good? Mine was good too!
Some friends and I visited Sydney on Saturday and it was fun. We went to Darling Harbour (where there was a boat show), Paddy’s (which felt like a pasa malam), the DFO (which I believe is just a grand conspiracy), Yum Cha (where we replenished on Dim Sum) and walked around looking for accommodation. The girls were hilarious, talking about strange Fenner Hall people and guys in general. I didn’t really talk a lot, much as I wanted to though. I was like Maggie from the Simpsons, except for the countless ways I am nothing like her. But really, I couldn’t have asked for better company.

Anyways, at the rate I’m going, I’ll be falling behind in my courses soon. And it’s not like I don’t have plenty of time to study (I do), but I spend my hours cooking, reading, sleeping, on the phone and online. And I still need to find some time to make myself a sandwich later. Right now the answer seems to be “live simultaneously in multiple dimensions.” Yea, I’m hoping I’ll think of a better one soon too.

I can't believe I missed my sister's second birthday. My dad sent me this picture, and I'm starting to doubt whether I made the right choice by coming here. I suppose it is, but it's still hard. I'm so emo nowadays. It doesn't feel like me. I now punctuate my conversations with sudden sobs and loud gasps of "BUT I MISS MY FAMILY!" Okay, I'm exaggerating, but not by much.


I need some way to wrap this up, so let’s just make believe there’s a neat concluding paragraph here instead of this. I have a sandwich to make and a time machine to invent.

And if you listen very hard, the tune will come to you at last; to be a rock and not to roll.

I am a grump. I am grumpy. I am feeling grumpery. Nothing is right, everything is wrong. If I had a dollar for every time I felt grouchy today, I would now have… a dollar. But if I could stomp around muttering, “grump grump grump,” it would feel delightfully correct. I suppose I could. Nothing’s really stopping me. Except maybe my extraordinary sense of propriety. Hah I couldn’t even say that without smirking a little.
(Pause to eat a jellybean.)

I cooked some soup just now. It was fun, with Jackson instructing me to put stuff in. In the end, it turned out too bland. So they put soy sauce in, then it was too black. But it’s nice to finally have a routine. I’m quite happy to be spending every evening cooking with them.

So I’m going to Sydney tomorrow for the weekend, and it’ll be fun. I’m not entirely convinced it won’t be awkward, since I’m already the odd duck from another hall. But it should be fun. If I’m extra nice maybe they won’t leave me in Sydney.

I had a strange thought this afternoon. I’m not sure why it’s such a big deal, but I don’t like the person I am becoming here. Being independent is also harder than I thought, since I apparently have no working sense of direction or an existent cooking sense. People here are different, and changing myself to fit in seems so hypocritical. I wish I could say that I would never change myself for anyone or anything, but that’s neither true nor realistic. What is wrong with me.

(Pause to boil some water for tea)

I need a real drink. No, not mineral water, you charming scamp! I mean a nice cold bottle of Heineken. I’ve been having a headache that shrieks “you need a drink, friend”, but there isn’t anyone here I know well enough to drink with. I’m not even sure why I’m mentioning the headache. It’s probably from trying to decipher what my lecturer is saying. “This ahl hahppened burforr Wahld Hwor Hwone.” Jubilee, my head aches. (By the way, feel free to use Jubilee as an exclamation. Try it. It’ll make you happy. Jubilee!) I’ve always wanted headaches to be a sign of a growing brain (who doesn’t), but at this price, dear god, leave it alone.

I was about to write about something else, but it’s 1am and my tea is cooling. So I’ll just say that Canberra is turning out nicely, thanks. This is a good place to be.