Running over the same old ground, and how we found the same old fears, wish you were here.

What? Oh, hi. I knew there was something I forgot. Its this strange little blog which has been casually tossed aside. And for what, really? My sheets are unwashed, my tumbleweed of hair is uncombed, and my clothes are lying in an abandoned pile on the floor. What's with me lately? I have no excuse. Well, actually I have prepared a whole rucksack full of them, but I will spare you. Now watch as I swiftly change the subject... aaaaannd go!

But honestly, the reason why there has not been any posts is because Canberra is boring the shit out of me. I should be studying, but instead, I am carvorting about town, skipping and singing gaily while twirling my hair, and making an ass of myself. Drinks here are obscenely cheap, and I would like to introduce you all to something called the hour-long bar tab. This is not really related, but even my next IR tute is going to be held in a bar. Also, cooking is fun now. I can cook chicken, beef or mutton soup, mee goreng, stir-fried vegetables. Argh. I have never felt more domesticated in my life. It's a little unnerving, I've got to say. Exams are in 3 weeks, and I need to get my fat butt off the bed and get something done. It'll all be better soon. Right? Right. Right!

Oh lord, the last few weeks of my life here has just been summed up into a small neat paragraph. I know what you're going to say. I can hear you saying it. "Huh." you say. To which I will take as a sign of interest and continue my incessant rambling. Anyway, did you know that everyone smokes here? The last couple of weeks have been quite shocking really, when you get up in the morning, draw the curtains, take an innocent look outside, and there is your neighbour lighting up. "Huh." you say to yourself. On another occasion, you walk back from dinner and you see another acquaintance loitering at the entrance taking a drag (its amazing how many metaphors there are for smoking). "Uh-huh." you nod to yourself, after an awkward conversation with the said person on how cold it is. Anyways, I had always harboured a small wish as a kid to quit smoking. That and to have a nervous breakdown, be brainwashed, be a pirate, get a Scottish accent and drink cocktails at 5pm. I wanted to attend rehab, paste nicotine patches on my arm and all that. Of course, it might actually require me to start smoking first in order to quit it. I have thus been robbed of that triumphant feeling of conquering the nicotine monkey. Another one of life's achievements down the toilet.

The biggest excitement I have had all afternoon is from walking around with this pair of mismatched socks, and I'm feeling like a daredevil. I already feel about 30% braver. Everything is in a jinglejangle of incoherence but I'm heading out for a nice dinner in civic with some friends later and I think I need to be, you know, presentable! Which means I need to find some clothes and comb my hair, right? That's what I think it means. Since that would prolly take a few hours, I should get cracking soon.

Have a great weekend, you.