Tuesday, 21 August 2012

Wanted: A new furry companion.

My boyfriend has always had a thing for Huskies. There's always talk of getting one as soon as he's got his own place, and I get a new photo every couple of days of one for sale, adoption or just general cuteness. I told him I'd babysit while he was at work, and possibly pinch the dog while I was at it. He wasn't impressed. I think he knows I'm not kidding.
Having said that, I myself am more a Staffy girl, though admittedly I am still grieving over the fact that my beautiful little Man is living happily with another family somewhere, with no idea how much I miss him. Never really understood how attached people can get to animals until we had Gus. I mean, we've always had at least one dog, even from before I was born, but he was really special.
Mike knows this last little bit, and thus chose to take me into a pet store on Rundle Mall last week. I dont know whether the move was meant as a bonding experience (given that we both want dogs, and, ideally, they'd be one and the same and living under one roof), or as torture. Apparently there's a designer dog called a pugalier (there's one pictured). They were the CUTEST thing I've ever seen. Even cuter than a baby hedgehog. That's right, I'm pulling out the big guns with this one.

Who wouldn't be sad at losing a face like this?!
I don't know what it is about the idea of getting a dog that I love so much. Maybe it's watching couples potter along the beach with a furry bundle of energy, maybe it's the fact that dogs symbolise a a long term thing (and I love stability), or just that I love how pups will love you unconditionally no matter what else is going on - they're the most reliable friend you'll ever have. Regardless of which is the main motivator, the end is simple: I want a puppy.
Then again, I also want to move out, have a house of my own with Mike, and have a full time job. Sadly, of these, geting a dog is on the bottom of the list - gotta have somewhere to put the tyke, and some way to feed it, right? For now, at least, I'll have to live with just looking at photos.

Friday, 17 August 2012

Growing Up.

I was in the car with a friend last week, on our way to dinner, when the topic of houses came up. Several people we both know have moved out of home, or are about to. I asked him if he planned to do the same (I envy having the financial freedom to have it as an option, but also am beginning to enjoy living at home and don't really want to leave). He said he was thinking about saving up a bit more and then putting a deposit on a house. A deposit. On a house. It was at this point that it hit me: we're becoming grown-ups. Actual, real, bill-paying, salary-earning, responsibility-holding adults.
 I should point out that both he and I are twenty, and he is he first person I know that actually has the ability to talk seriously about the prospect of buying property. Lucky bastard.

I suppose, if you look at it like somebody with half a brain, everyone crosses that threshold at some point. Indeed, being twenty years old seems like a fairly decent place to start looking for the moment to jump the proverbial family ship and start living for oneself as an independent individual.

On the same note, my boyfriend's started talking like an adult, too, over the last three weeks, and actually following through with it. Granted, a lot has happened over that time, but I'm not sure what was the final clincher. He's got his head screwed on now and is putting it to good use. I'm finally seeing what he's been talking about for the last 6 months put into action, and to be honest, it's exciting. Not in the jump-up-and-down-at-the-idea-of-candy type exciting, but the thought of me, him a house and a puppy isn't looking so pie-in-the-sky anymore.

Add to these the fact that most of my friends are graduating university at the end of the year, and are already thinking about Masters degrees and real full-time employment. (I should like to point out that, sadly, I won't be joining them just yet, given that I have another year to go before graduating. Yay for Honours?)
Speaking of which... Had a meeting about said final-year yesterday. Given that I had already read the online information, attending was pointless for the most part.... until the very last question of the day. The conversation was trending towards organisation and time management being the most important  factor in doing well, with the insinuation being that one cannot do anything bar study for two semesters. Directing her question to a past student, a girl two rows down asked, "So, you didn't work during your honours year?" The graduate burst out laughing, took a breath and said, "No, God, no."
She fired back, "So how did you live?!"
"Centrelink," He grinned, "And I lived at home with my parents."
I rolled my eyes and thought to myself 'well, there goes volunteering and any kind of social life'
Still, despite my irritation at the attitudes the director and students were conveying, I still have to stop and think: I have been waiting for this next 12 months for the last 4 years. It's been the most exciting part of my future, and it's nearly here. Holy crap.

It's the beginning of the end, and at the other side, is the start of the rest of my life.
So much is going to change, everything is going to be turned upside-down, and tipped back up again. It's a scary thought and yet incredibly exciting at the same time, and I for one can't wait!

Monday, 13 August 2012


The sky is grey outside, though not dark enough to hold a serious threat of rain. Somewhere over the other side of the roof is a clear patch - sunlight hits the damp pavers and the table and outdoor umbrella cast shadows along the wall. Wind chimes jostle gently against each other as they are caught by a slight breeze. Somewhere, a single bird is chirping.
The constant whirring from the fridge and washing machine are the only noises in an otherwise silent house. It feels like the calm that accompanies a storm, though whether it follows last weeks events, or precedes another emotional rollercoaster, or is simply the eye of the storm, I do not know.
What I do know, however, is that it is calm. For now at least.
For the first time in what feels a while, the thoughts that accompany my daily grind, albeit racing ahead at a million miles an hour, have slowed, if not stopped altogether. Maybe then, perhaps it is not the quiet around me that is so unsettling, but that within me.
It is somewhat disconcerting, being so used to so much noise, to suddenly feel like I've had earmuffs put on, so that I can only hear my breath and heartbeat, while everything else is painfully dim.
I feel slow. Maybe that's the dehydration and tiredness talking. I hear one is as bad as the other for cognitive function, let alone both in combination.
I don't feel like me. Or, maybe, this is the start of finding me? I don't know. It's almost like... I've spent so long running ahead, something has finally pulled me back and is making me live in the present, and only the present. I hear some people call it Mindfulness. Jury's still out on that one.
A wise friend told me last week that she thought I would find myself this year. Listening to her life experience has taught me not to question things like this. I didn't really believe it then mind you. Now, however, I'm not so sure.
Something tells me that the next 14 months are going to leave me standing at the finish line a different person.

Wednesday, 1 August 2012

Over-inflated sense of self, perhaps?

I have, somehow, lost all motivation to do any kind of work. Given that it is only the second week back, and the feeling has already hit, I'm vaguely concerned. To be perfectly honest, I can't get my head out of "let's find a well-paying job" mode. Not surprisingly, the jobs in question require me to focus on my work, get it done, and hand it up. Study, at this point, is a means to an end. Wow, it's actually come to that.
Then again, my weeks currently consist of two language/writing courses, advanced research methods (I'd say stats, but it doesn't involve stats in the slightest) and an Intro level course in psychological assessment. This last one was meant to be the highlight of my semester but it turns out that, while important to know, it's also painfully dry stuff.
The research methods is looking to be the most exciting of the lot. This in itself is excruciatingly sad, as it has a reputation of difficulty and overall scariness. I suppose it makes more sense now, why I'd rather be out gardening, or watching the Olympics.

I've always been a huge fan of the Olympics. But four years is a long time in which to grow up and gain a few new perspectives. Not in regards to the games, mind you, but to Australia's media coverage of it. Granted, the time difference makes it harder, but all that is shown to those with free-to-air telly is the end highlights - there is no such thing as a whole game, and heaven forbid they show something that doesn't involve Australians. I saw Foxtel's coverage on the weekend - coming from a non-Foxtel household (its been  months and I'm still working out how to use the remote), my sports-viewing will never be the same again. Shame on you, free-to-air.
On another note, it's a little embarrassing seeing how hyped up it was only to watch the teams crash and burn at the hands of other countries that were, frankly, just better at it. It seems that somewhere along the line, Aus got the impression that we were a big-league player in the global field. We're not. Don't get me wrong, I'm not bagging my the country (my boyfriend does that enough for the both of us), I'm just wondering if this will be a reality check for a lot of people.
I suppose the mental shout of 'suck it up princess' may be considered a little callous. Then again, the devastation might have been lessened if it wasn't drilled in that all Aussies are going to win everything.
(can you tell I'm not much of a patriot?)

I'll leave it there for today simply because I could write for a few hours at a time right now. Some things are rarely done in the absence of attempting to procrastinate. This is one of them. Alas, there are books to read and notes to write.
Until next time.