I spent most of Tuesday night stressing about the following morning... in fact to distract myself I made my sister and her friend play cards until it was Wednesday morning. After a few hours sleep I woke and promptly grabbed for my Mobile which had strategically slept beside me that night. I could scarcely believe my own eyes, my heart was pounding in my ears and beads of sweat started to form across my forehead... and this was all before I had even opened the text.
Relief swept over me... despite the fact it was my results and not my uai I was still certain that I would find an Astrix staring back at me. This was, thankfully, not the case and upon examining my marks I started to feel confident that a B Ancient History at Macquarie was not as unattainable as it had seemed the previous day.
Basically, just like my friends from school, I was stressing over nothing. I was a little surprised when, the following day after several walks back and from the Internet cafe in an attempt to discover all the needed documents, I received my UAI of 84.05. Most of my marks had been higher then this and I was experiencing first hand being a victim of the bell curve. However this still should be enough to get me into my course.
But does this mark reflect the blood, sweat and tears (a lot of tears) of my schooling life. Well... no. Even if I had been freakishly smart like some of my friends and received 98-99.95 I still doubt it would encompass all the time, stress and effort that students all over NSW put into their final years.
The fulfilment f the HSC does not come from one mark dished out by the Board of Studies but by the personal knowledge that our schooling life is finished, the thirteen years of imprisonment are finished and although some of us might chose another stint in education at Uni we look forward to a completely new environment. For the first time, in my own thirteen year, I am overwhelmed by the possibilities and opportunities the next few years offer.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Insane... Please we do this everyday!
In celebration of the schools 150th birthday (an event that was not run into the ground but run through the earth and is leaving the solar system as we speak) the parents and students worked together on a quilt and while looking as my friend Jessica's square it occurred to me just how odd we will be remembered as. I plan to take an opportunity to explain how a most hapless group of misfits joined together to become one of the most solid friendship groups in the school.
One word binds us together... insanity.
I have often heard myself or one of my friends utter the sentence 'I really don't think I'm that weird'. But on review I must confess... yes... we truly are. The P.D.D.Y.D, as we call ourselves, the name shall be explained in time, started small.
A group of five girls in year seven, four from junior school and one new student. Although me and Jessica new each other since year two we had never been great friends and other then that relationship, none of us knew each other. The five included Jessica, who completed the HSC over three years and did three unit modern history for the HSC when she should have been in year 8, Josie, who could speak fluent elvish, and was in fact just younger then Jessica, Hannah, who proves it is impossible to escape politics when you have two journalists for parents and was also to be skipped ahead a year before us but to remain a friend, Kathryn, who asked to skip a year because she was bored, and introduced us to the concept of poking wars. And myself, who was only just coming out of my shell and yet still did not find anything weird about the prospect of skipping round tables singing 'A pirates life for me'...
As I mentioned before the original group were all child prodigies of varying levels, but this was not to last as girls came who showed personality traits valued just as highly (of more so) then mind boggling intelligence. These including things such as Isabelle's moral core which I would continue to be impressed with as the years continued, or Rika's strength, she handled loss and grief with a grace I scarcely imagined possible. It was truly a remarkable group of people that was only to grow in size as the years continued.
But... where is this insanity I mentioned? Let us delve into the biz arr trends and fads our group has witnessed and passed through. When the majority of girls became obsessed with 'fluro' we decided to descend into our childhood and became sailor moon fanatics. This is an embarrassing truth to be sure, but we could be certain that no other teenager would dare ad mitt to it. Each of us developed our own alter egos, I was super sailor earth, this fascination like all fads did not last long and the long strands of sailor moons blond hair faded into the distance.
This was in year 8, but the previous year I was to introduce (with varying amounts of success) both Pokemon and Yu-GI-Oh cards. I earned the nickname 'Kiba girl' for my fascination with one card in particular, the blue eyes white dragon. If you do not understand, quickly find a 6 year old boy and he shall explain it to you. Unfortunately I sacrificed my Pokemon cards to the time capsule and my Yu-Gi-Oh cards mysteriously vanished, something that was to happen again two years later as we developed an interest in tarot cards.
These early years were too lead to another fascination... this time inspired by the blockbuster Pirates of the Caribbean. We formed our own pirate ship and I was captain of the Phoenix. We were assigned our roles and designed the ship, as did another group who we playfully declared war with.
Over these years we also found a constant source of inspiration for our growing insanity and this was the British comedy masters of 'Monty Python', how often we would amuse ourselves with renditions of the black night sketch and the dead parrot sketch. I would often preform one man shows in front of the girls and to this day I question if they were laughing with me or at me. Hopefully with me.
We were also to show our own intelligence and comic genius through the art of parody. Just how can one make the Queen song Bohemian Rhapsody any stranger? Jessica and Hannah combined their twisted minds to solve this question and developed the fruit version with lines such as 'I'm just a vegan nobody loves me'. They went further to bring Monty Python and Lord of the Rings together by transforming the Castle Anthrax sketch from Holy Grail to 'Welcome brave ring bearer, welcome to the castle Cyrathungle,' we never made it past 'a spanking a spanking' when our bodies succumb to uncontrollable fits of hysterics.
But it was not until year ten when the school drastically changed its appearance that we solidified our image as 'the odd ones'. We were forced from the sanctity of our beloved tables because it turned into a construction zone and moved twice, once following the tables and then finally to the grass outside the library. It was on this second move when Kathryn wondered aloud, 'Why do we always do what ever one person suggest', to which I responded, 'because we are a democratic dictatorship'.
During those lunches on the grass we developed one of our most treasured laws in regards to food, 'whats Clare's is Clare's and what's yours is Clare's'. This is not to say I would rob my friends of food, but well aware of my habit of forgetting my own lunch people my friends, in particular Isabelle, started to bring extra and I was able to survive by picking little bits from everyone else. We shared what we had with those of us who needed it and thus became the 'Democratic Dictatorship who believes in Communism'.
Over the next year we developed some of our favorite games including cricket, played with a rolled up bit of aluminum foil and a lunch box lid, and added possibly the strangest part of our political organisation and this was the yellow duck. I myself am still not sure how the yellow duck was introduced but I am told it had something to do with the small ducklings that had decided to make our school pool their home. Our title was finalised 'The People's Democratic Dictatorship of the Yellow Duck' or P.D.D.Y.D for short.
Year 11 opened up many opportunities for us, as seniors we were able to move onto the J-floor and found a new set of tables for the PDDYP to congregate. Next to this was a group of our friends who decided to call themselves the 'Pink Pigeons' and declare war with us... although they were never very successful.
Our group was becoming smaller as slowly girls began to leave the school for various reasons, however, one can never escape. Once a member of the PDDYD you are one for life. It is reassuring to know that no matter how much a friend and I may fight I need only say 'May fleets of forks attack you in your sheep' and we will fall into hysterics at just what complete insanity we deviled into during our schooling years.
And now as the PDDYD moves on and the girls start to look at which Uni they might attend we face the inevitable separation that location will bring. However if there is one thing I have learnt from this amazing group of people, we are stubborn, and we are survivors. I do not think that there is enough space in the universe to fully separate the bonds that we have formed.
In the words of our mentors in the realm of insanity it is now...
Time for something completely different.
One word binds us together... insanity.
I have often heard myself or one of my friends utter the sentence 'I really don't think I'm that weird'. But on review I must confess... yes... we truly are. The P.D.D.Y.D, as we call ourselves, the name shall be explained in time, started small.
A group of five girls in year seven, four from junior school and one new student. Although me and Jessica new each other since year two we had never been great friends and other then that relationship, none of us knew each other. The five included Jessica, who completed the HSC over three years and did three unit modern history for the HSC when she should have been in year 8, Josie, who could speak fluent elvish, and was in fact just younger then Jessica, Hannah, who proves it is impossible to escape politics when you have two journalists for parents and was also to be skipped ahead a year before us but to remain a friend, Kathryn, who asked to skip a year because she was bored, and introduced us to the concept of poking wars. And myself, who was only just coming out of my shell and yet still did not find anything weird about the prospect of skipping round tables singing 'A pirates life for me'...
As I mentioned before the original group were all child prodigies of varying levels, but this was not to last as girls came who showed personality traits valued just as highly (of more so) then mind boggling intelligence. These including things such as Isabelle's moral core which I would continue to be impressed with as the years continued, or Rika's strength, she handled loss and grief with a grace I scarcely imagined possible. It was truly a remarkable group of people that was only to grow in size as the years continued.
But... where is this insanity I mentioned? Let us delve into the biz arr trends and fads our group has witnessed and passed through. When the majority of girls became obsessed with 'fluro' we decided to descend into our childhood and became sailor moon fanatics. This is an embarrassing truth to be sure, but we could be certain that no other teenager would dare ad mitt to it. Each of us developed our own alter egos, I was super sailor earth, this fascination like all fads did not last long and the long strands of sailor moons blond hair faded into the distance.
This was in year 8, but the previous year I was to introduce (with varying amounts of success) both Pokemon and Yu-GI-Oh cards. I earned the nickname 'Kiba girl' for my fascination with one card in particular, the blue eyes white dragon. If you do not understand, quickly find a 6 year old boy and he shall explain it to you. Unfortunately I sacrificed my Pokemon cards to the time capsule and my Yu-Gi-Oh cards mysteriously vanished, something that was to happen again two years later as we developed an interest in tarot cards.
These early years were too lead to another fascination... this time inspired by the blockbuster Pirates of the Caribbean. We formed our own pirate ship and I was captain of the Phoenix. We were assigned our roles and designed the ship, as did another group who we playfully declared war with.
Over these years we also found a constant source of inspiration for our growing insanity and this was the British comedy masters of 'Monty Python', how often we would amuse ourselves with renditions of the black night sketch and the dead parrot sketch. I would often preform one man shows in front of the girls and to this day I question if they were laughing with me or at me. Hopefully with me.
We were also to show our own intelligence and comic genius through the art of parody. Just how can one make the Queen song Bohemian Rhapsody any stranger? Jessica and Hannah combined their twisted minds to solve this question and developed the fruit version with lines such as 'I'm just a vegan nobody loves me'. They went further to bring Monty Python and Lord of the Rings together by transforming the Castle Anthrax sketch from Holy Grail to 'Welcome brave ring bearer, welcome to the castle Cyrathungle,' we never made it past 'a spanking a spanking' when our bodies succumb to uncontrollable fits of hysterics.
But it was not until year ten when the school drastically changed its appearance that we solidified our image as 'the odd ones'. We were forced from the sanctity of our beloved tables because it turned into a construction zone and moved twice, once following the tables and then finally to the grass outside the library. It was on this second move when Kathryn wondered aloud, 'Why do we always do what ever one person suggest', to which I responded, 'because we are a democratic dictatorship'.
During those lunches on the grass we developed one of our most treasured laws in regards to food, 'whats Clare's is Clare's and what's yours is Clare's'. This is not to say I would rob my friends of food, but well aware of my habit of forgetting my own lunch people my friends, in particular Isabelle, started to bring extra and I was able to survive by picking little bits from everyone else. We shared what we had with those of us who needed it and thus became the 'Democratic Dictatorship who believes in Communism'.
Over the next year we developed some of our favorite games including cricket, played with a rolled up bit of aluminum foil and a lunch box lid, and added possibly the strangest part of our political organisation and this was the yellow duck. I myself am still not sure how the yellow duck was introduced but I am told it had something to do with the small ducklings that had decided to make our school pool their home. Our title was finalised 'The People's Democratic Dictatorship of the Yellow Duck' or P.D.D.Y.D for short.
Year 11 opened up many opportunities for us, as seniors we were able to move onto the J-floor and found a new set of tables for the PDDYP to congregate. Next to this was a group of our friends who decided to call themselves the 'Pink Pigeons' and declare war with us... although they were never very successful.
Our group was becoming smaller as slowly girls began to leave the school for various reasons, however, one can never escape. Once a member of the PDDYD you are one for life. It is reassuring to know that no matter how much a friend and I may fight I need only say 'May fleets of forks attack you in your sheep' and we will fall into hysterics at just what complete insanity we deviled into during our schooling years.
And now as the PDDYD moves on and the girls start to look at which Uni they might attend we face the inevitable separation that location will bring. However if there is one thing I have learnt from this amazing group of people, we are stubborn, and we are survivors. I do not think that there is enough space in the universe to fully separate the bonds that we have formed.
In the words of our mentors in the realm of insanity it is now...
Time for something completely different.
Wild Thang! - schoolies stories
A period that most HSC students look forward to is the few weeks known as schoolies, in which under the influence of goon and vodka students release all the stress that has built up over the past year. And my schoolies experience fitted the stereotype well... although much to my parents delight, I was spared of any trips to the hospital with alcohol poisoning.
The hazards of schoolies are great, my personal fear and the rule that guided my through the week at Byron Bay was 'Must not hook up with a toolie!'.
To clarify, a toolie is a person who has NOT just finished the HSC but finished it years previously and comes to party anyway, and I am using the Sydney version of hook up which means kissing (I found out from my sisters schoolies that in the gold coast 'hooking up' can in fact mean much more).
I spent the first week of schoolies at the far quieter Byron Bay; I was determined to enjoy this experience although I must confess I was worried by it. My closest friends, the child prodigies I mentioned in previous posts, were either too young or not interested in attending schoolies. I did however have a bunch of friends who were already going... I became a tag-a-long.
Concerned, as I wasn't the most comfortable with this group and by the absence of a working mobile phone, I was greatly relieved to find another group going which had a long time friend in it. I was a tag-a-long twice over.
Because I had booked so much later I was staying on my own, a thought I later found out would scare most schoolies, but I had said to my mother while trying to find accommodation 'I don’t care if I have to sleep on the beach with a sleeping bag, I am going to schoolies'. I am very glad it didn't come to this as I was able to find very cheep rooms at Cape Byron YHA (youth hostels Australia). Little did I know that how much I would come to depend upon my roommates to enjoy my stay.
The first day I was greatly worried, I had no working phone and was yet to discover a working payphone, however, I followed my instincts and visited the Woolworths. As it was the first day I managed to find both groups there purchasing their food for the week.
My long time friend Caitlin invited me to see her hotel and I was to stay with this group through dinner and into the club 'Cheeky Monkeys' that is after a quick stop at the hostel to get changed. The clothing at Byron was the first thing to shock me, after dealing with Sydney clubs I was amazed at the idea of thongs being acceptable footwear for night!
Cheeky Monkeys was too become one of my favourite spots, although it was... seedy. I couldn't believe the amount of toolies aged around 40! The club itself was questionable as it had no dance floor but only metal tables to dance on.
However it was the most fun and even with my heeled feet killing me I couldn't stop busting a move on the metal tabletops. This night was also the first of my hook ups. While it was far too loud to catch a name I refer to him as black hair, and I can safely say he was not a toolie. So far my one rule was serving me well.
I decided to turn in early that night and went home at only midnight; however it was to turn out that this was not the end of my night. After I slipped into sleep at two in the morning, my two roommates from Geelong came in each with a guy. It took them about ten minutes to realize I was there, hidden on the top bunk as I was, and they somehow managed to convince me to get out of bed, dress, and come down to the beach with them, I did manage to slip away about fourty minutes later and crawl back into bed.
The next morning it was clear that I felt far better then my two poor roommates. I spent most of the day by the pool in the sun... and unfortunatly developed the sunburn to prove it... Sunday was the one night spent at home. This was not so much because I didn't want to go out but because I had not managed to run into my friends and did not have their numbers. And thus, in the absence of a drinking buddy, I was forced to complete a total of 5 soduko puzzles in my boredom. However future nights were to make up for this.
Monday: On this day I started my search for a book, I was amazed at how much free time I had and quickly purchased an Alex rider, an easy book that I thought would last me at least a week. However spending every moment by the pool reading meant I had finished within half a day. It would turn out that on this trip I would spend the same amount on books to read as I did on alcohol.
That night was to turn out to be one of my favourites. I spent a large amount of time drinking and playing cards at the hostel, and I introduced the game of 'snap' to both Sweden and Switzerland, and was taught 'switch' by a Danish couple.
After much laughter and drinking we decided to head off to another of the Byron clubs, this was called Coco Mungo's and the drinks were cute and the music was fresh. Although not as crowded as Cheekies it was adequately full.
I did not stay there long as I ran into Caitlin’s friends who invited me to a house party, I said a quick good by to my room mates, and we moved along. They may have stretched the truth when they said a house party because it was in fact a general idea to head towards the beach, were we joined a bon fire.
By this time I was already starting to flake, I believe in partying fast and heading home earlier (a technique I've found to ensure a limited hang over the next morning). However I stayed and started to use my friend Jonno as a pillow, eventually we started off home and I realized a horrible truth. I had forgotten my keys!!
With no phone and no way to ensure contact with my room mates I was greatly relieved to be offered a bed back at my friends house... well, a couch. ALthough the evening had been fun the night was a nightmare, they had no spare blankets and I spent hours tossing and turning, trying to cover myself with pillows for warmth.
Two hours before the rest of the house woke I discovered a jacket under the pillows and finally was able to fall asleep. Tuesday morning, much to the relief of my concerned roommates I walked back into the room and vowed never to leave my keys behind again.
This day was spent with another quest... I needed a new book. I visited one book shop constantly, Byron Book City. And purchased two, one of which was Kylie Chan's 'White Tiger', it was to become one of my favourite books of all time. A similar love of the novel was later developed by my sister, my dad and my friend Isabelle.
Another day by the pool and I smiled when I realized just how annoyed my sister would be by my growing tan. This night I went out with my room mates Kathleen, from Geelong, and Nat, from Switzerland. I partied with the girls and a guy from the hostel who seemed just a little bit suspect to me and Kathleen (mostly because he tried to crake onto all three of us at various times during the night).
This was the night of my second hook up, again a name missed my attention and so he received the name green shirt.
I must say I was very impressed with his directness, he and his friend were dancing on the table across from us, before I could quiet grasp what was happening he had pulled me across and his friend had jumped over to dance with Kathleen. I doubt I shall never forget her look of shock. Again I managed to stick to my one rule.
Halfway through Wednesday I was already through both of my books and went back to the store, picking up the next in the two series I had purchased the previous day. It was not to escape the notice of the employee that I was to return to the same book store every day subsequently until I left.
Wednesday night I went out with Kathleen and Nat again. We started out night very early, and started to hit the clubs around nine. I was appalled. Coco’s was empty except for two people and LaLa's only had one. We had no choice but to go to cheekies, which was already well into a Coyote Ugly Dance competition... as I already mentioned it was seedy.
After dancing for a while we decided to move on and went back to Coco's, but didn't stay long and then moved to a completely new spot for us. It was called 'The Backroom' and despite the name it was very nice. A back area for live music and a spot were people were dancing and drinking. I was also very surprised as I am still Farley sure I saw the comedian Jimoen having a beer... although after however many shots of vodka, who can tell?
The Backroom was also to have one of my favourite bouncers as Kathleen complained greatly about the number of stamps she had received while he gently placed the latest on her hand, he then got her again right on the arm this time a lot harder. Kathleen glared at him although she was on the point of laughter as well, a guy near us was pissing himself with laughter, the bouncer was quick and managed to get him right on the forehead with a stamp. We enjoyed ourselves greatly this night until we eventually turned in.
Another day by the pool and another trip to the book store was most of Thursday. But come Thursday night as it was Kathleen and I last night as a pair before her friend from Geelong came up. We decided to go out for dinner.
We chose a hotel that had a fantastic view of the beach; we had been warned previously about the limited menu... little did I expect limited to mean six items. We went simple and ordered two appetizers, nachos and wedges.
I must say the food was... disappointing. I still wondered how they managed to screw up nachos but none the less, they did. The drinks were a whole nother matter though. We each ordered a Byron Bent Banana, which I had increasing levels of difficulty saying after I had finished the cocktail.
This was not what made the night so memorable, no, what made this night was 'jail bird'. Now, this is were it shows that being too polite really is an issue. I had quickly popped down the street in order to go to an atm, on my return I discovered a guy had sat down on my seat and was talking to Kathleen. So, I pulled up another chair and realised too late Kathleen's pleading glance meant 'for god's sake ask him to leave'.
For we were both too polite to say it to him. As the conversation continued we broached many topics... how his girlfriend had screwed him up... how drugs had screwed him up (during which he politely inquired if we had any to share) and finally we moved onto foreign languages of all things. During this topic he divulged that 'it’s really hard to learn Spanish in jail...'
Ummm...
What does one say to THAT!
Now... not only were we being polite but we were politely scared out of our minds. Noticing the somewhat... awkward silence... he smiles sheepishly and goes 'whoops too much information'.
After finishing his own drink and trying to remove a non-existent straw from my silver clutch he moved onto another table and we politely got the hell out of there!
But we weren't going to let that ruin our night, especially since it was the Swedish girls last night. SO we went out clubbing... three guesses which club we went too... Yes that's right. Cheekies.
I felt as if I was starting to know the bouncer very well... although he still asked for my id!
The night followed the usual pattern, drinking, drinking and shameful dancing on the tabletops.
The special entertainment for that night had been a wet-tee shirt contest that we missed, although two of my friends from school did enter. But it was won by some blond Swedish girl... Figures.
Friday... my last night and my last visit to the Byron Bay book store. To purchase the third of the Kylie Chan's which was to serve me well all the way to Sydney airport. Another day by the pool... what a hard life I had that week.
The night. Wow. This was one of the best. I decided I had to finish off my beloved schoolies vodka that had served me well through the week. I also helped Kathleen finish off her goon and for the first time tasted Passion pop, which was a marked improvement to the goon.
Feeling very... adventures because it was the final night I insisted on asking the bouncer his name (which to my surprise was Billy... Billy the bouncer) despite the large risk that he would find me to drunk to enter Cheekies (he was unusually strict about these matters).
But I was still allowed inside. Whilst paying I was offered a magnum which I gladly accepted. I was also greatly amused when my friends asked for one and was promptly told it was only for security staff. Yay free bees.
During this night I was determined to make full use of the newly acquired single status... having broken up with my boyfriend a week before schoolie... and thus over night my hook up total jumped from two to six. Which I felt was a solid number for the trip.
I stood by my rule though. No Toolies!
Come Saturday I spent most of it by the pool but anxiously looking at the clock so that I didn't miss my flight. I finished blue dragon on the way home and was instantly shocked by the sudden cold weather as I had to rush out of the car (still in my short skirt and halter top) to quickly vote.
I can definitely say that my schoolies week was amazing... if not... interesting.
The hazards of schoolies are great, my personal fear and the rule that guided my through the week at Byron Bay was 'Must not hook up with a toolie!'.
To clarify, a toolie is a person who has NOT just finished the HSC but finished it years previously and comes to party anyway, and I am using the Sydney version of hook up which means kissing (I found out from my sisters schoolies that in the gold coast 'hooking up' can in fact mean much more).
I spent the first week of schoolies at the far quieter Byron Bay; I was determined to enjoy this experience although I must confess I was worried by it. My closest friends, the child prodigies I mentioned in previous posts, were either too young or not interested in attending schoolies. I did however have a bunch of friends who were already going... I became a tag-a-long.
Concerned, as I wasn't the most comfortable with this group and by the absence of a working mobile phone, I was greatly relieved to find another group going which had a long time friend in it. I was a tag-a-long twice over.
Because I had booked so much later I was staying on my own, a thought I later found out would scare most schoolies, but I had said to my mother while trying to find accommodation 'I don’t care if I have to sleep on the beach with a sleeping bag, I am going to schoolies'. I am very glad it didn't come to this as I was able to find very cheep rooms at Cape Byron YHA (youth hostels Australia). Little did I know that how much I would come to depend upon my roommates to enjoy my stay.
The first day I was greatly worried, I had no working phone and was yet to discover a working payphone, however, I followed my instincts and visited the Woolworths. As it was the first day I managed to find both groups there purchasing their food for the week.
My long time friend Caitlin invited me to see her hotel and I was to stay with this group through dinner and into the club 'Cheeky Monkeys' that is after a quick stop at the hostel to get changed. The clothing at Byron was the first thing to shock me, after dealing with Sydney clubs I was amazed at the idea of thongs being acceptable footwear for night!
Cheeky Monkeys was too become one of my favourite spots, although it was... seedy. I couldn't believe the amount of toolies aged around 40! The club itself was questionable as it had no dance floor but only metal tables to dance on.
However it was the most fun and even with my heeled feet killing me I couldn't stop busting a move on the metal tabletops. This night was also the first of my hook ups. While it was far too loud to catch a name I refer to him as black hair, and I can safely say he was not a toolie. So far my one rule was serving me well.
I decided to turn in early that night and went home at only midnight; however it was to turn out that this was not the end of my night. After I slipped into sleep at two in the morning, my two roommates from Geelong came in each with a guy. It took them about ten minutes to realize I was there, hidden on the top bunk as I was, and they somehow managed to convince me to get out of bed, dress, and come down to the beach with them, I did manage to slip away about fourty minutes later and crawl back into bed.
The next morning it was clear that I felt far better then my two poor roommates. I spent most of the day by the pool in the sun... and unfortunatly developed the sunburn to prove it... Sunday was the one night spent at home. This was not so much because I didn't want to go out but because I had not managed to run into my friends and did not have their numbers. And thus, in the absence of a drinking buddy, I was forced to complete a total of 5 soduko puzzles in my boredom. However future nights were to make up for this.
Monday: On this day I started my search for a book, I was amazed at how much free time I had and quickly purchased an Alex rider, an easy book that I thought would last me at least a week. However spending every moment by the pool reading meant I had finished within half a day. It would turn out that on this trip I would spend the same amount on books to read as I did on alcohol.
That night was to turn out to be one of my favourites. I spent a large amount of time drinking and playing cards at the hostel, and I introduced the game of 'snap' to both Sweden and Switzerland, and was taught 'switch' by a Danish couple.
After much laughter and drinking we decided to head off to another of the Byron clubs, this was called Coco Mungo's and the drinks were cute and the music was fresh. Although not as crowded as Cheekies it was adequately full.
I did not stay there long as I ran into Caitlin’s friends who invited me to a house party, I said a quick good by to my room mates, and we moved along. They may have stretched the truth when they said a house party because it was in fact a general idea to head towards the beach, were we joined a bon fire.
By this time I was already starting to flake, I believe in partying fast and heading home earlier (a technique I've found to ensure a limited hang over the next morning). However I stayed and started to use my friend Jonno as a pillow, eventually we started off home and I realized a horrible truth. I had forgotten my keys!!
With no phone and no way to ensure contact with my room mates I was greatly relieved to be offered a bed back at my friends house... well, a couch. ALthough the evening had been fun the night was a nightmare, they had no spare blankets and I spent hours tossing and turning, trying to cover myself with pillows for warmth.
Two hours before the rest of the house woke I discovered a jacket under the pillows and finally was able to fall asleep. Tuesday morning, much to the relief of my concerned roommates I walked back into the room and vowed never to leave my keys behind again.
This day was spent with another quest... I needed a new book. I visited one book shop constantly, Byron Book City. And purchased two, one of which was Kylie Chan's 'White Tiger', it was to become one of my favourite books of all time. A similar love of the novel was later developed by my sister, my dad and my friend Isabelle.
Another day by the pool and I smiled when I realized just how annoyed my sister would be by my growing tan. This night I went out with my room mates Kathleen, from Geelong, and Nat, from Switzerland. I partied with the girls and a guy from the hostel who seemed just a little bit suspect to me and Kathleen (mostly because he tried to crake onto all three of us at various times during the night).
This was the night of my second hook up, again a name missed my attention and so he received the name green shirt.
I must say I was very impressed with his directness, he and his friend were dancing on the table across from us, before I could quiet grasp what was happening he had pulled me across and his friend had jumped over to dance with Kathleen. I doubt I shall never forget her look of shock. Again I managed to stick to my one rule.
Halfway through Wednesday I was already through both of my books and went back to the store, picking up the next in the two series I had purchased the previous day. It was not to escape the notice of the employee that I was to return to the same book store every day subsequently until I left.
Wednesday night I went out with Kathleen and Nat again. We started out night very early, and started to hit the clubs around nine. I was appalled. Coco’s was empty except for two people and LaLa's only had one. We had no choice but to go to cheekies, which was already well into a Coyote Ugly Dance competition... as I already mentioned it was seedy.
After dancing for a while we decided to move on and went back to Coco's, but didn't stay long and then moved to a completely new spot for us. It was called 'The Backroom' and despite the name it was very nice. A back area for live music and a spot were people were dancing and drinking. I was also very surprised as I am still Farley sure I saw the comedian Jimoen having a beer... although after however many shots of vodka, who can tell?
The Backroom was also to have one of my favourite bouncers as Kathleen complained greatly about the number of stamps she had received while he gently placed the latest on her hand, he then got her again right on the arm this time a lot harder. Kathleen glared at him although she was on the point of laughter as well, a guy near us was pissing himself with laughter, the bouncer was quick and managed to get him right on the forehead with a stamp. We enjoyed ourselves greatly this night until we eventually turned in.
Another day by the pool and another trip to the book store was most of Thursday. But come Thursday night as it was Kathleen and I last night as a pair before her friend from Geelong came up. We decided to go out for dinner.
We chose a hotel that had a fantastic view of the beach; we had been warned previously about the limited menu... little did I expect limited to mean six items. We went simple and ordered two appetizers, nachos and wedges.
I must say the food was... disappointing. I still wondered how they managed to screw up nachos but none the less, they did. The drinks were a whole nother matter though. We each ordered a Byron Bent Banana, which I had increasing levels of difficulty saying after I had finished the cocktail.
This was not what made the night so memorable, no, what made this night was 'jail bird'. Now, this is were it shows that being too polite really is an issue. I had quickly popped down the street in order to go to an atm, on my return I discovered a guy had sat down on my seat and was talking to Kathleen. So, I pulled up another chair and realised too late Kathleen's pleading glance meant 'for god's sake ask him to leave'.
For we were both too polite to say it to him. As the conversation continued we broached many topics... how his girlfriend had screwed him up... how drugs had screwed him up (during which he politely inquired if we had any to share) and finally we moved onto foreign languages of all things. During this topic he divulged that 'it’s really hard to learn Spanish in jail...'
Ummm...
What does one say to THAT!
Now... not only were we being polite but we were politely scared out of our minds. Noticing the somewhat... awkward silence... he smiles sheepishly and goes 'whoops too much information'.
After finishing his own drink and trying to remove a non-existent straw from my silver clutch he moved onto another table and we politely got the hell out of there!
But we weren't going to let that ruin our night, especially since it was the Swedish girls last night. SO we went out clubbing... three guesses which club we went too... Yes that's right. Cheekies.
I felt as if I was starting to know the bouncer very well... although he still asked for my id!
The night followed the usual pattern, drinking, drinking and shameful dancing on the tabletops.
The special entertainment for that night had been a wet-tee shirt contest that we missed, although two of my friends from school did enter. But it was won by some blond Swedish girl... Figures.
Friday... my last night and my last visit to the Byron Bay book store. To purchase the third of the Kylie Chan's which was to serve me well all the way to Sydney airport. Another day by the pool... what a hard life I had that week.
The night. Wow. This was one of the best. I decided I had to finish off my beloved schoolies vodka that had served me well through the week. I also helped Kathleen finish off her goon and for the first time tasted Passion pop, which was a marked improvement to the goon.
Feeling very... adventures because it was the final night I insisted on asking the bouncer his name (which to my surprise was Billy... Billy the bouncer) despite the large risk that he would find me to drunk to enter Cheekies (he was unusually strict about these matters).
But I was still allowed inside. Whilst paying I was offered a magnum which I gladly accepted. I was also greatly amused when my friends asked for one and was promptly told it was only for security staff. Yay free bees.
During this night I was determined to make full use of the newly acquired single status... having broken up with my boyfriend a week before schoolie... and thus over night my hook up total jumped from two to six. Which I felt was a solid number for the trip.
I stood by my rule though. No Toolies!
Come Saturday I spent most of it by the pool but anxiously looking at the clock so that I didn't miss my flight. I finished blue dragon on the way home and was instantly shocked by the sudden cold weather as I had to rush out of the car (still in my short skirt and halter top) to quickly vote.
I can definitely say that my schoolies week was amazing... if not... interesting.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
My own art works
One of my works from the nature portfolio we had to complete in year 11. I etched the outline of a tree into a thin sheet of plastic and then printed it onto paper with varying degrees of ink and pressure. Then cut the images up and then created a collage image.
A microscopic image of a flower. Done with different types of charcol, another in the nature portfolio.
Again a microscopic image of a flower, however now done in acrylic paints. The focus was on blending colours and trying to harmonise contrasting colours. I worked mostly in cool colours such as blue and purple but highlighted it with sparing use of warm reds and bright yellows.
While focusing on the images of hands and feet I chose to do cartoons because it was of particular interest to me. I worked towards seemless smooth lines with differing amounts of thickness. This was part of a collection of many different typed of cartoon hands and of course belongs to the one and only Bugs Bunny.
Another in the hand series, this time of a personal favorite, Bart Simpson. The focus of this was on clean lines and keeping the shape.
The Lull
As a student I had often heard about the lull, the period straight after the end of the HSC in which we revert to the most basic needs of survival, eat and watch tv. To me this seemed impossible, after all, how could the excitement of freedom possibly vanish beneath the veil of day time television. Well, five weeks and several hundred episodes of Sponge Bob Squarepants later I'm starting to realize that 'The Lull' might not be the myth I thought it was. I find it hard to bring myself to get off the couch and even harder to walk down to Manhattan Super Bowl and ask for a job. This is not to say I am scared of work, I suffered through two years of preparing Happy Meals and Big Mac's, but I am reluctant to commit myself to anything that might resemble the confinement the HSC brought. So, after assuring my mum that, yes I will ask soon, I lay on the couch and occasionally rise to walk down the street and purchase a bottle of coke. My other most basic need.
Our bodies have collapsed to the seemingly endless exhaustion and aimlessness that life post HSC offers us. While most will snap out of this come UAI day when they will realize just what Uni books they have to buy, I am faced with a frightening possibility, another year like this because for better or worst I am going to take a gap year. Under my mothers wise guidance I created a mind map of the things I want to accomplish in the up coming year, and I must say that I might have had more free time in year twelve then I will in the gap year. Determined to get a job so that I can save up and travel as well as get a car in preparation for the long commute to Macquarie, work on my writing and art, take lessons in martial arts and also singing and dancing and do some volunteer work. Some of this I realise I just might not have the time for, but I still would like to give it a shot. So, how, when I have such high aims for the up coming 12 months find myself as a person who struggles to find the energy to even clean their own room.
My shame at this is made worse by the fact that most of my friends have already made to leap into paid employment, and I wonder how much longer my sister will allow me to lay on the couch... unemployed... while I still owe her money from my schoolies trip. Surely there must be something to get me moving, to motivate me. I have found a variety of things to start my mental process and ensure at least basic body movement, the latest of which has been this blog, things such as my writing, my social network and pure fear of growing bed sores. I plan to make the walk down to Manhattan Super Bowl this afternoon, whether or not I shall reach my destination is another matter entirely, but should I succeed it shall be an important jump on my road to escaping this lull and the horror of day time tv.
But for the moment Sponge Bob Squarepants is on...
Our bodies have collapsed to the seemingly endless exhaustion and aimlessness that life post HSC offers us. While most will snap out of this come UAI day when they will realize just what Uni books they have to buy, I am faced with a frightening possibility, another year like this because for better or worst I am going to take a gap year. Under my mothers wise guidance I created a mind map of the things I want to accomplish in the up coming year, and I must say that I might have had more free time in year twelve then I will in the gap year. Determined to get a job so that I can save up and travel as well as get a car in preparation for the long commute to Macquarie, work on my writing and art, take lessons in martial arts and also singing and dancing and do some volunteer work. Some of this I realise I just might not have the time for, but I still would like to give it a shot. So, how, when I have such high aims for the up coming 12 months find myself as a person who struggles to find the energy to even clean their own room.
My shame at this is made worse by the fact that most of my friends have already made to leap into paid employment, and I wonder how much longer my sister will allow me to lay on the couch... unemployed... while I still owe her money from my schoolies trip. Surely there must be something to get me moving, to motivate me. I have found a variety of things to start my mental process and ensure at least basic body movement, the latest of which has been this blog, things such as my writing, my social network and pure fear of growing bed sores. I plan to make the walk down to Manhattan Super Bowl this afternoon, whether or not I shall reach my destination is another matter entirely, but should I succeed it shall be an important jump on my road to escaping this lull and the horror of day time tv.
But for the moment Sponge Bob Squarepants is on...
A reflection of twelve years internment
After a thirteen year slug, twelve of which at the Anglican girl school St Catherine's, I have finally finished my schooling life and completed the dreaeded HSC. And what have I accomplished in this time? Certainly my life has not been uneventful and I have dealt with the normal school pressures, but being good friends with child prodigies does leave one self with a certain feeling of inadequacy, I will never be able to claim that I am as intelligent as Jessica, as motivated as Isabelle, as cultured as Hannah or as smart as Kathryn, and this is only the beginning of my friends.
Despite this impressive benchmark set by those around I still feel proud of my own, albeit smaller, accomplishments and success of schooling life. The first of which is shared with all the class of 07, and it is of course surviving. This may sound the easiest of tasks, but it is not as simple as it sounds, the horrors of peer pressure, load of school work and nightmare of 'just what am I going to do with the rest of my life' is not just for teen flicks but a very real weight on our minds. And let us start with the most mass media exploited topic,the horrors of peer pressure.
The worst years were surprisingly the youngest, while it was not the jungle displayed in Mean Girls, we did have our own plastics, however we called them 'The Populars'. Despite school intervention these girls seemed intent on making us, the social inept, feel bad. I won't bore you with a retelling of the stories, it also would not be just to these girls who not only matured mentally but also ethically. As we started to grow up and enter high school things improved, if only slightly, and I place this improvement on two simple points, the first of which was a conclusion if people are going to be mean to me for being wired then I'll show them just how weird I can be. As I started to come out of my shell, other girls, also socially inept, found me. This friendship group became a unshakable source of loyalty and help. The second thing that drastically lead to an improvement, mostly because of how drastically it changed my view of life, was a decision to accept the Christian faith. Having a number of friends who are strongly atheist this was not an easy thing to do, and it is without question one of my strongest achievements, mostly because of how much stronger it made me.
Now with the 'Populars' growing up and entering my own faith and friendship group school did get a lot easy... however as the peer pressure let up the school load continued to increase exponentially. Entering year 11 I chose a very ambitious and questionable path, and this was in my subjects. I put myself down for 14 units with 4 major works, the school, and also my more mentally stable peers, tried to persuade me otherwise. However I pushed through and continued with this workload into year 12. But as I quickly realised that my mathematical interest had dipped into the negative side of the number plane, and that my fourth unit of English was not what I expected at all, I dropped down to 11 units and 3 major works. Still a notable challenge to any committed student. Things were made worse by the fact that I still would not consider myself a 'committed student', subjects that truly captured my excitement and interest I could study endlessly, such as art making, English extension one 'revenge tragedy' and Ancient History (which I am planning to study in 09 at Macquarie). I remember drastically one lunch breaking down on the J-floor at school into hysterical sobs because I felt I was loosing control. For parents trying to understand what their children go through at the HSC, picture if you will a giant train, with you at the control, no understanding of where this will lead of even how to steer, you only have one choice, keep shovelling coal and hope to stay on the rails.
Through all this I survived, and no matter what the UAI I receive on the 20th I chose to be proud of that achievement alone. That is not to say I am not desperately praying for a number higher then the required 83 to get me into my desired course, but should I miss out I will mourn it only briefly. I have little doubt that this mindset comes from the loving support of my beloved family, while society and the school secretly work into your subconscious that, 'if you don't study hard, you won't get a good UAI, if you don't get a good UAI you won't get into a good university, if you don't get into a good university you wont get a good job, if you don't get a good job you might very well die alone in the gutter'. Of course no one is ever this direct. In contrast to this my family never let me forget the possibilities that life held regardless of the HSC or UAI
But what of my other achievements, one I'm certain that not many other students could claim, and that is that by the age of 16 I had finishd the skeleton of my first manuscript. As I was continuously told off for my poor spelling and incorrect use of grammar I began to nurture a dream of creative writing. And now after two years of on and off editing I will start the search for an agent and seek to get my book published. This manuscript has to a degree engulfed my life and is never far from my thoughts, nor will I ever consider it finished as like most artists I am always thinking of that little adjustment that could be done to my work in the fruitless endeavor for perfection.
Like most students I have found a love in school sport, and in year 7 I found my favorite sport... field hockey... after all what other sport would allow you to charge at an opponent brandishing a stick that could be considered a lethal weapon? After only a semester playing I was moved into the position of goalie, and have not left it since. As I started to believe in my own skill levels I went in search of more experience and an opportunity to play at more advanced levels. I joined the UNSW hockey team for the Eastern Districts competition. Originally placed in team 2, a source of constant amusement as this was the team that my school coach played for, I was moved down into teams 4 and 5 with girls my own age. And now that the pressures of school are finished I hope to move into more serious competition and higher teams, one good thing about playing goalie is there will ALWAYS be a need for you in the team.
Sport and my friends have played an important role in my school life, and anytime I am able to help the team by stopping the goal, or, if the reff isn't looking, by knocking over an opponent, or to comfort my friends and make their day that little bit brighter I consider in my highest achievements. Other things such as my trial mark for DT, my status as an ancient history whizz kid and managing to read Wuthering Heights (which was more painful then junior school was) are also things that I find myself smiling at the memory of. I am proud of my last thirteen years and am looking forward to the new freedom that has just been bestowed on the class of 07.
Despite this impressive benchmark set by those around I still feel proud of my own, albeit smaller, accomplishments and success of schooling life. The first of which is shared with all the class of 07, and it is of course surviving. This may sound the easiest of tasks, but it is not as simple as it sounds, the horrors of peer pressure, load of school work and nightmare of 'just what am I going to do with the rest of my life' is not just for teen flicks but a very real weight on our minds. And let us start with the most mass media exploited topic,the horrors of peer pressure.
The worst years were surprisingly the youngest, while it was not the jungle displayed in Mean Girls, we did have our own plastics, however we called them 'The Populars'. Despite school intervention these girls seemed intent on making us, the social inept, feel bad. I won't bore you with a retelling of the stories, it also would not be just to these girls who not only matured mentally but also ethically. As we started to grow up and enter high school things improved, if only slightly, and I place this improvement on two simple points, the first of which was a conclusion if people are going to be mean to me for being wired then I'll show them just how weird I can be. As I started to come out of my shell, other girls, also socially inept, found me. This friendship group became a unshakable source of loyalty and help. The second thing that drastically lead to an improvement, mostly because of how drastically it changed my view of life, was a decision to accept the Christian faith. Having a number of friends who are strongly atheist this was not an easy thing to do, and it is without question one of my strongest achievements, mostly because of how much stronger it made me.
Now with the 'Populars' growing up and entering my own faith and friendship group school did get a lot easy... however as the peer pressure let up the school load continued to increase exponentially. Entering year 11 I chose a very ambitious and questionable path, and this was in my subjects. I put myself down for 14 units with 4 major works, the school, and also my more mentally stable peers, tried to persuade me otherwise. However I pushed through and continued with this workload into year 12. But as I quickly realised that my mathematical interest had dipped into the negative side of the number plane, and that my fourth unit of English was not what I expected at all, I dropped down to 11 units and 3 major works. Still a notable challenge to any committed student. Things were made worse by the fact that I still would not consider myself a 'committed student', subjects that truly captured my excitement and interest I could study endlessly, such as art making, English extension one 'revenge tragedy' and Ancient History (which I am planning to study in 09 at Macquarie). I remember drastically one lunch breaking down on the J-floor at school into hysterical sobs because I felt I was loosing control. For parents trying to understand what their children go through at the HSC, picture if you will a giant train, with you at the control, no understanding of where this will lead of even how to steer, you only have one choice, keep shovelling coal and hope to stay on the rails.
Through all this I survived, and no matter what the UAI I receive on the 20th I chose to be proud of that achievement alone. That is not to say I am not desperately praying for a number higher then the required 83 to get me into my desired course, but should I miss out I will mourn it only briefly. I have little doubt that this mindset comes from the loving support of my beloved family, while society and the school secretly work into your subconscious that, 'if you don't study hard, you won't get a good UAI, if you don't get a good UAI you won't get into a good university, if you don't get into a good university you wont get a good job, if you don't get a good job you might very well die alone in the gutter'. Of course no one is ever this direct. In contrast to this my family never let me forget the possibilities that life held regardless of the HSC or UAI
But what of my other achievements, one I'm certain that not many other students could claim, and that is that by the age of 16 I had finishd the skeleton of my first manuscript. As I was continuously told off for my poor spelling and incorrect use of grammar I began to nurture a dream of creative writing. And now after two years of on and off editing I will start the search for an agent and seek to get my book published. This manuscript has to a degree engulfed my life and is never far from my thoughts, nor will I ever consider it finished as like most artists I am always thinking of that little adjustment that could be done to my work in the fruitless endeavor for perfection.
Like most students I have found a love in school sport, and in year 7 I found my favorite sport... field hockey... after all what other sport would allow you to charge at an opponent brandishing a stick that could be considered a lethal weapon? After only a semester playing I was moved into the position of goalie, and have not left it since. As I started to believe in my own skill levels I went in search of more experience and an opportunity to play at more advanced levels. I joined the UNSW hockey team for the Eastern Districts competition. Originally placed in team 2, a source of constant amusement as this was the team that my school coach played for, I was moved down into teams 4 and 5 with girls my own age. And now that the pressures of school are finished I hope to move into more serious competition and higher teams, one good thing about playing goalie is there will ALWAYS be a need for you in the team.
Sport and my friends have played an important role in my school life, and anytime I am able to help the team by stopping the goal, or, if the reff isn't looking, by knocking over an opponent, or to comfort my friends and make their day that little bit brighter I consider in my highest achievements. Other things such as my trial mark for DT, my status as an ancient history whizz kid and managing to read Wuthering Heights (which was more painful then junior school was) are also things that I find myself smiling at the memory of. I am proud of my last thirteen years and am looking forward to the new freedom that has just been bestowed on the class of 07.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)