I haven’t grammar or spell checked this one…it’s a free-for-all.
I guess since it was just Halloween and I haven’t updated on my escapades in a while, I’ll talk about my many miscellaneous fears in Australia. (and beyond).
So, in Australia, kids like 7 and up ish ride city buses to and from school (if they’re in public school) and they get off sometimes in groups, but occasionally you’ll see a really young kid walking home from the bus alone. Which in America would be crazy because everyone thinks their child is going to get captured or stolen or something (I blame the news for never putting stories about saving kittens up there), but in Australia that isn’t the case. This doesn’t put my mind at ease (most likely because of my recent obsession with the show “Ghost Adventures” or my many a night staying up in the dark to watch Law&Order SVU) because I’m a terrible bus rider. I had an interview a few weeks ago that I was forty minutes late to and had to ride the bus around twice (including sitting with the driver while he had his crumpet and tea lunch break in a random parking lot). This is just one of the many times I’ve failed to be avid participant in the pushing of the signal button. Last time I worked it was raining and dark (and I really thought I was going to be struck by lightning, I kept remembering this chick I worked with at camp who had a brother be struck by lightning and it made my mind go 100 miles a minute) but, by the time I caught the bus and got to my street, I had pressed the button too early and had to walk a long while back, past overly large bushes and trees that had pokey-outey arms. I really thought someone was in them, but then again I think this in Raleigh also. I’m just a freak like that.
As a side note, I’m reading this book (39) by Hilary Mantel called Beyond Black, and its this story of a medium who can read minds and talk with spirits in the beyond. And she explains how she started seeing spirits in her peripheral vision before every actually coming into contact with one. I think I have this gift. I see things looking at me everywhere, including things jumping out at me from dark pine trees – or that’s just me being a freak once again. Another little side note, when I was little I used to sleep with all the covers over my whole body, including my head (I had an irrational fear of Jafar as the old man, mixed with a gnome coming into my room and killing me). My mother had to take the sheets down every night. THIS IS MY LIFE. At least I’m honest.
Other fears of Australia; the crack on the side of the twin bed where it doesn’t meet the wall (thank you scary stories book from ToysR’Us when I was nine), the drains in every bathroom (when you look in them, you see this gross mucky water…reminds me of wells…which I’m not really fond of either), and mirrors. My irrational fears of mirrors stems from the playground and Leesville Elementary when all the seven year olds would gather around and tell each other stories of Bloody Mary in the mirror. You know, how many spins it takes, if you keep your eyes closed, can you flicker the light when she’s coming, how many times should you repeat her name…that sort of thing.
However, Australia hasn’t banned the ouija board and so I respect them as a country for letting thirteen year olds have slumber parties where the conjure up angry spirits from their sleeping bags. GOOD ON YA!
This whole blog probably stems from my watching “Ghost Adventures” way too frequently in my spare time. I’m kind of addicted to the main guy on the show Zach and the way his voice rises and falls in conversation. He’s a weird one, who only really wears black Ed Hardy shirts and probably hails from Jersey or a small province like Jersey.
Okay….now that I’ve wasted most of this talking about myself, as always. I guess I’ll just say what’s been up recently (other then the sky, you jokesters). I’m working at the tea place from a view blogs down (I get to wear cute little skirts everyday I go to work and drink copious amounts of tea – Marco Polo is my favorite incase you wanted to buy some off the website which is: http://www.adoretea.com.au.
I wish I could describe to you what’s around the tea place. Holly and I decided it was the real town of the Stepford wives. Literally, I believe men who live here have turned back time to the 1950s and made their wives into robot beauties. There’s a bead store, a lollies shop, a country store, a bed and bath store, a wedding decoration store, a crystal healing shop, a mystic books shop, and a miniatures shop (by miniatures I mean everything in there is a miniature of something famous and it’s only a matter of time until I find myself miniaturized there). I didn’t really do a good job describing in that list. Let’s further develop…
Crystal Healing Shop: Straight out of Spencer Pratt’s crystal mind. People go here to buy crystals for various elements or levels of peace for a price. There are posters everywhere of healers that you can visit for a stiff price of $90 and up. Two of my favorites are old women who look very driver’s license in their posters. They’re tryin’ though.
Mystic Bookshops: Aka where I buy all my spoken word cds. I have discovered spoken word, poetry slam of Australia. I also bought the coolest skull beads (or I plan too) and a really interesting tree necklace. The lady brings her dog to work everyday and so I spend a lot of time in there just petting him, Carl.
Bed and Bath store: Carries my favorite mini notebooks made out of paper created from Elephant Dung. I don’t think you need more of an explanation then that.
Lolly Shop: Where you can buy large amounts of all the American Lollies you’ve been missing at home. YUM. So glad I work just next door.
And of course my work, with a reception hall above it where the other night they had a big wedding and played all the cheesy songs that you would be. We did the ChaCha slide while doing dishes in the kitchen. Also, while meeting the bride in the bathroom and watching all her bridesmaids hold up pieces of her dress through the stall door, I convinced myself that I won’t be drinking before the reception or else I will end up like that hot mess.
And that folks is an update on my…oh wait.
So, I sneak into classes, we all know this one. And my professor today managed to somehow relate (for about ten minutes mind you) poetry to porn. Then he went on a tangent about the athleticism of porn being it’s main component, while in poetry the story really has nothing to do with it, it’s the way you can make a person dwell on the words. He finished with, so like poetry, porn can also make you dwell…have a good day.
And finally, THAT is my life in Australia right now. Tune in next week :)