movinmovinmovin

Sometimes, you just need to stop being human. Humans are afraid of everything they don't know about, their unsure about. Last week I decided not to be human. Recieving my offer for University of Melbourne, I made a slightly psychotic decision to move interstate mid Feb, somehow convinced it was possible. I don't know if it's possible. But it's happening, it's something, and it's exciting.

It's exciting moving. I feel so big. Finally requested my OWN medicare card and bought my OWN very sophisticated filing system. It was a poignant, momentous moment for me. No more section labelled 'Molly' in Mum's ancient family airloom; The File. On an equally significant note, (I take homewares VERY seriously), Sam and I went plate-bowl-cup-cutlery shopping yesterday. Square white plates make EVERYTHING look tasty, so I figure if we're stuck eating baked beans for a week, it'll all be okay, so of course we bought a huge dinnerware set with about eight of them. I've included some comparative pictures of plates for you to get the idea. I'm pretty passionate. We also got some amazing, gross 70's style coloured loose dinnerware for $2 each at Harris Scarf....very. successful. day.

THIS ^^

VERSUS

THIS >>

smile at me. please.

Today, I came to the conclusion (for about the squillionth time) that my not-too-distant-furture is non existent. Sure, I've applied for university. How I'm getting there if I've got a place is BEYOND me. I hardly have a job, and am unskilled, unfit and also have really unnatractive regrowth. Plus I fancy lying on the couch reading trashy chic lit and shoving plastic-cheese-and-vegemite-on-english-muffins into my mouth far too much. Days have begun blurring into one another, laughing at me as one dawns into the next, with just as little to offer as it's younger brother. I end up slumped on the couch, watching mid-life-crisis/post menopausal television shows such as The Circle and contemplating whether to just pack it in, change my name to Darleen/Rocheen/Marleen and serve Chicko Rolls to my husband named Wayne/Dwayne/Dayne while screaming to our kids, Darren and Karen, to shut ya mouth an' git ya mother a bloody smoke!'

Pushing the 'oh god i'm a complete and utter bogan failure' thoughts far from my head, I tried to cheer myself up today, by wearing cute outfits like this:

NB: Above ensemble did include turquoise explorer socks, not displayed in photo.

...and baking things with my sister, who I am currently living life through in a psychotic attempt to deny growing up:

(it's caramel mudcake, with a chocolate ganache. no darleen ever baked THAT! HA!)

death by chocolate.

Exam results have come, Christmas has passed and the New Year has arrived, complete with already-broken-resolutions. Mine, with part stolen from Stephen Briggs, includes:

- never, ever go to Mcdonalds ever again.

- achieve some form of fitness.

- grow through the ceiling.

- be nice. seriously, be NICE.

....original, obviously. Spent an amazing New Years eve at the Marion Bay Falls Festival with some incredible people and incredible music. Boy and Bear, were definately up there on my "To Marry" list, along with A & J Stone and Joan Jett. We had a fantastic camping neighbour too, known to us only as 'Aquaman'. He nicknamed us as well, mine was quite rightly 'Meldrum'. OH, and the Bedroom Philosopher was brilliant also. I arrived home sun burned, sun stroked, and sun maimed, feeling incredibly untalented.

The other day I found my old 'Pyjama Sam - Thunder and Lightning Ain't So Frightning' computer game. Spent a good few hours playing it, which culminated into another good few hours wallowing in nostalgia, contemplating the rest of the Humungous Entertainment games; Putt Putt, Spy Fox and Fatty Bear amongst them. It might be due to finally completing grade school, but this isn't a one off case. The same thing definately happened when I resurrected my childhoood book collection: Hello there Paul Jennings, Judy Blume, Andy Griffiths and Enid Blyton. Escaping into adventures with the Naughtiest Girl In School and Singenpoo sparked memories of Mr. Chum Chums the Tree, Spaghetti-and-Sausages-in-a-Can and watching "Matilda" several times a day.

Touching back down to dear-lord-im-almost-an-adult-kill-me-now world, all that awaits me now is University offers. Fingers crossed for one from Uni of Melbourne!