Back when I did histology, you know, when I was totally cool and stuff, and could tell the difference between this...
...and this*...
...I shared a bench with eleven people. Eleven people who all went to private school.
It had already taken a giant leap for them to understand that, gasp, I was not from Sydney because it "doesn't sound like you're from the country." Because ya know, we speak funny out there.
Imagine this conversation one afternoon then:
Person: "I'm definitely going to send my children to private school...you know...so they have a chance in life."
Me: " bitch did not just say that" (I might be paraphrasing).
It continued from there and I was vastly outnumbered. Then our lecturer ambled over (he was one of those people who's been an academic for 20 years but hasn't moved beyond the formal career stage of "lecturer" so let that give you an idea about him...) to find out what was going on.
Him: "What are you young folk up to?"
Me: " They're being assholes about people who go to public school." (again I think I paraphrase)
Him: "Why, where did you go to school?" (in Sydney, that question actually means "Loretto or PLC?")
Me: "I went to a public school."
Him (gesturing around the table, wide-eyed in disbelief): "Then what are you doing here?"
To which I replied, "My parents didn't have to pay to get me into university."
And you know what? They all thought I was being the offensive one.
*Ha, I lie, because I can still tell the difference. Although that's mainly because I made those tissue slices and took the pictures. I'm obviously still totally cool and stuff. Don't hate, it's just how I roll...
...and this*...
...I shared a bench with eleven people. Eleven people who all went to private school.
It had already taken a giant leap for them to understand that, gasp, I was not from Sydney because it "doesn't sound like you're from the country." Because ya know, we speak funny out there.
Imagine this conversation one afternoon then:
Person: "I'm definitely going to send my children to private school...you know...so they have a chance in life."
Me: " bitch did not just say that" (I might be paraphrasing).
It continued from there and I was vastly outnumbered. Then our lecturer ambled over (he was one of those people who's been an academic for 20 years but hasn't moved beyond the formal career stage of "lecturer" so let that give you an idea about him...) to find out what was going on.
Him: "What are you young folk up to?"
Me: " They're being assholes about people who go to public school." (again I think I paraphrase)
Him: "Why, where did you go to school?" (in Sydney, that question actually means "Loretto or PLC?")
Me: "I went to a public school."
Him (gesturing around the table, wide-eyed in disbelief): "Then what are you doing here?"
To which I replied, "My parents didn't have to pay to get me into university."
And you know what? They all thought I was being the offensive one.
*Ha, I lie, because I can still tell the difference. Although that's mainly because I made those tissue slices and took the pictures. I'm obviously still totally cool and stuff. Don't hate, it's just how I roll...
Guys, I've got to tell you some crazy shit. The animals in Sweden talk funny. So do the ones in Japan.
Allow me to use my mad MS Paint skills to illustrate:
I spent a lot of my life sitting in labs filling time with my friends whilst we waited for random crap to incubate and synthesise and polymerise, and I won't lie: these animal language differences make singing Old Macdonald's farm pretty damn complicated.
Allow me to use my mad MS Paint skills to illustrate:
I spent a lot of my life sitting in labs filling time with my friends whilst we waited for random crap to incubate and synthesise and polymerise, and I won't lie: these animal language differences make singing Old Macdonald's farm pretty damn complicated.
Wooli is a tiny place about an hour away from Coffs Harbour. We used to have a house there. We don't anymore. You should ask me about it sometime; it's a doozy.
I don't remember much about the day I took this photo. Well I remember some things, like it has been raining but then it stopped, and we went for a wander, and I may have had a slight navigational ah..malfunction.. as we walked back to the apartment where we were staying. And we had salmon for dinner that night.
Actually I lie, because I remember most things about that day. I also learned what "brackish water" really meant that day, and we found some smultron. Maybe if you're lucky I'll tell you all about it one day.
I probably won't though, because I'm really lazy.
Amazing, I know, but there is actually more to Canberra than public servants and concrete. It's a giant flower festival (giant like..size..not actual giant flowers) though, so I'm not really sure where it fits into the scheme of things.
It was green and lush and full of shadowy pathways. People were playing on the lawns (mostly asian tourists who were willfully ignoring the signs saying "Do not frolic on the lawn"... or something like that). There were fountains and hydrangeas. So. Many. Hydrangeas. And there were people being artistic, wearing berrets, and because they were (presumably) French, they looked moody and creative and artistic, not just like pretentious artistes.
Paris second time round. Wasn't as bad as my memory promised.
One day I will be a real European and I will ride my bicycle always (though I still won't like Paris). I will also own some baguettes, and a husky, and I will learn to ski. But for now I will be content riding a rented bicycle through the Louvre at sunset.
Just letting you know that another valid reason for my absence of late has been an irrational hatred of the layout of my blog. Too cramped!
There'll be some construction going on in the next few days. Bear with me.
There'll be some construction going on in the next few days. Bear with me.
Hi guys. It's just me. Thought I'd drop in and say hello... And perhaps invent some fanciful excuses give you all some valid reasons for my absence of late. It's been a month since I wrote, HAH, to think that I was going to make it through a month of daily posting. I must've been on some kind of good crack that day (like pancakes or waffles or something else really really tasty).
- I have a baby to take care of these days, and it's not all sunshine and roses you know. She poos at the front door when I am running late for work.
- To keep my baby in hay and cardboard boxes, in the style to which she is now accustomed, I have a full time real job now and I don't have time to play with you kids all the time. Go and watch tv.
- I really don't like Norwegian people. I don't even like the country anymore. It's cold, and it rains a lot. And there are only so many potatoes one person can eat.
- I am a suburban commuter now. I commute from the suburbs. People on the train smell funny and I never get an air-conditioned carriage, and so, when I get home from work I have a shower. I don't blog. I shower.
- Because of a number of the above, I'm just really not interesting at all, anymore. I have no stories. Nothing. No humour. No observations. Although I do wonder why people at Sydenham station in the mornings always run from platform 1, the Bankstown Line, for the train on platform 4, the Eastern Suburbs line, when another train arrives 3 minutes later. I walk at my own sweet pace, am guaranteed a seat on the 3-min-later train, which is usually a nice shiny air-con Millennium train, and sometimes I even have time for a sandwich while I wait.
- I am getting porky. I'm not sure how that's a valid reason for my absence, but it's true. See the above reasons 1, 2, and 4, for a possible explanation. And also maybe my love of cake.
- I don't like the way Blogger compresses my photos when I upload them. It changes the saturation and the contrast, and makes them look crap. And so now all my posts are just text, and that's no fun at all.
- I had to pay 700 dollars for a new computer screen, and when I realised I could have bought a Kitchenaid mixmaster for the same, it made me bitter and sad at the same time, and I began to hate life. But then we went to Ikea, so it was all ok.
- It depresses me to realise that all of my friends live in the internet.
- I guess what I'm trying to say is that really, I do love you all. Love ya guts. (Except for people in Norway. See number 3. ) I hope you haven't given up on me, because I'm back.