Day Fourty-Two in Oz

Hey.

I find it incredible how quickly time is passing while I am away. I'm well into my second month in Australia and I have no idea how that happened. I could say a lot has happened since I have left home because it is true but I still don't think that justifies how speedy my new life here has gone.

I am really enjoying the mundane aspects of it all: grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning, taking out the recycling, coming home to my mess, doing the dishes, having a beer, reading some philosophy and repeating. Back home, of course, these things feel tedious and frustrating but I like it all here! Must be something in the water...

Speaking of which, I went to the beach last week with a film class friend of mine on our break. It was really casual, you know: "Oh me? I'm just going to get my toes wet in the ocean in between my film tutorial and lecture. Oh, it was nothing. Just a little bit of sun, a fresh organic lunch, and a visit to the Ocean Baths..."

If you ask me, it's not hard living here. I relish in the fact that I have a recovering burn on my shoulders from our excursion and that, while sitting in class, I was rubbing the sea salt off my calves. It just doesn't get any better than that.

I really hope all is well with you guys back home. As the days get longer and warmer on your side of the world, it's getting slightly chillier and darker here. I don't mind though. My Aussie friend and I were shopping the other day and she pointed to a really nice jacket. It was a cotton long sleeved number. I asked her if that would keep her warm for the winter and she eyed it up and said: "Well, you could throw a sweater under that and be toasty." Unbelievable.

This week we're still expecting some days in the +30s and I'm looking forward to relishing in that but I'm so curious as to what an Australian winter will feel like. I might have climatized too quickly-- 18C sounds a little too cold for my liking!

Until the next time I get an urge to blabber on...

Kenz

Day Thirty-Two in Oz

Hi all,

It's been a while since I've bothered to write a post-- finally! That means I've been too busy having a good time. I think, anyway.

Three things:

1. For those of you who do not know, I have been on a secret mission to find out who my neighbour is. I'm well acquainted with the neighbour to the left of me. I may have mentioned him before but his name is Nathan and he's from South Korea. One thing I really like about Nathan and his other Korean friends is that they all have really sweet names. You'll meet them in packs and they all, one by one, give their Americanized name: "Hey, I'm Max!" "Hey, I'm Nixon!" "Hey! I'm Dex!" They really like their x's. But hell, I would too if it made me sound like a secret agent or a skateboarder with an attitude.

Erm, back to my mystery neighbour: For a whole month now, it has been quiet to the right of me. Our rooms don't have paper-thin walls or anything but like I said in the last post, I heard Nathan blasting "Love Shack" at 1:30 in the morning. With my other neighbour: nothing. nadda. zip.

I was getting the feeling that no one was, in fact, living in that room. I didn't mind this at all since it increased my chances of not having to deal with a potential weirdo (we all know they flock to me like moths to a light)... but oh boy! was I wrong!

I was sitting here trying to write a failed post when I heard loud screams coming from the supposedly empty room. I was a little concerned but living in a dorm room on campus means you hear the occasional shrill scream. It's nothing to get alarmed over. I went back to work when, again, I heard a yell, a scream, and then... Eminem. All three of these things make me uncomfortable, so now I was worried.

I looked through my peephole to see if I could see the potential killer outside my door. What I saw, instead, was a guy violently dancing outside my door-- imagine a chubby version of Muhammad Ali punching the air and rocking his head back and forth to "Not Afraid" or something...

I couldn't help but let a laugh out. Now, I was behind the door and I didn't think he could possibly hear me over the music and his occasional grunts and yells but he stopped mid fist pump and looked at my door. I clamped my mouth shut and quickly went from amusement to sheer terror. It felt like seconds past by in years and yet he still didn't move. I was about to back away from the door in case he was going to charge into it but, instead, he climbed a bench outside my door and threw himself over the balcony.

The set up of my college resembles a ring. All of our rooms open up to a courtyard in the center. It's quite a lovely place-- especially from my level because I'm on the second floor-- but I thought it was soon going to be the site for a suicide. But no, Stan-- I'll call him Stan-- threw himself over my balcony to do pull-ups. Yes, I guess a work-out was in order. The entire time he was lifting himself up, he stared at my door. As I looked through my peep-hole, I had an eerie feeling that he could see me. Not possible, of course, but then again, this kind of thing doesn't happen everyday...

After about five or six pull-ups, he brought himself back onto the bench. Without missing a beat, he went back to yelling and dancing-- this time in front of his own door.

I was so confused that I had to stop writing and get a drink. As I sipped on a beer, I continued to hear yelling, things getting bashed and the occasional outburst from some rapper. After about an hour of the raucous, it all stopped. Quiet. Silence. ... Did he fall to his death? I decided to venture outside and see if, in fact, there was a chubby Muhammad Ali out on the grass in the courtyard. To my relief, he wasn't dead but he wasn't around either. Believe it or not, the weirdest thing about this whole story is that I never saw him again...

2. I have a replacement neighbour. He moved in three days ago and he's this little string bean of a guy. He seems nice but he must have thought I was standoffish because when he shook my hand for the first time, I sized him up thinking, "Did Stan lose weight?" When I knew, for sure, it wasn't him, I let out a sigh of relief. It was bad timing though because my new neighbour was, at that moment, saying goodbye to me.

Him- "Hi. I'm so-and-so..."

Me- Probably making some confused, searching face.

Him- "...I moved in three days ago..."

Me- "Uh huh..."

Him- "Well, it was nice to meet you..."

Me- "Oh, whew!"

This relief was short-lived because then I started to wonder who was, in fact, fist pumping and suicide-working-out outside my door. Was he part of the college? Was he a guest? There are a lot of crazies in Newcastle. Every other day you hear about a murder, a rape, a guy who wrestled with a sharkopus (shark octopus hybrid) and so it wouldn't be totally surprising if this guy was one of 'em. Needless to say, I will never know...

3. Last, but no least, I survived Sydney! It's a beautiful city that is divided by very modern and Victorian architecture. I met up with my best friend's boyfriend and, luckily for me, he knew some wonderful places to visit. I got really acquainted with some of the pubs here thanks to his guidance! I also saw some interesting views of the harbour, the older neighbourhoods and the hustle and bustle of George St. My favourite part, of course, was my intimate evening with Belle and Sebastian.

The venue for the show was amazing. It reminded me of the Odeon but it was better looking, better ventilated and better constructed... so I'm not sure why it reminded me of the Odeon but it did! My friend, Lauren, and I found an amazing spot to see over the heads of everyone but I did pay a price for it: I missed out on going onstage with Stuart Murdoch! It would've been amazing, of course, but no one had a better spot in the whole building than where we stood. I also probably annoyed every person around me because my thirteen-year-old self crawled out to sing every lyric, scream the loudest for their encore and jump up and down in one spot afterwards from my over-excitement.

Me- "OhmygodOhmygodOhmygodOhmygodOhmygod! Did you see thaaaat?!"

Lauren- "Yes, yes I did."

Me- "OhmygodOhmygodOhmygodOhmygodOhmygod! That was GREAT!"

I'm happy I didn't see that concert with any of you guys back home because I'm sure you would never let that down... "Remember that time Kenz pissed herself she was so excited?" (That never happened, guys, OK?)

Anyway, that is all I can recall right now. Tonight I am attending a moon party. Yes, that's right. The moon is apparently the closest it has been in twenty years, so we're all heading outside-- maybe to the beach-- tonight to gaze at the moon over wine and good company. I look forward to it.

Hope all you darlings are doing well! Miss you!

Kenz

Day Eighteen in Oz

So, Ladies and Gentlemen, I got what I asked for. I asked for feedback and I go it. In fact, from all the positive replies I have received from my last post (particularly on Adrian), I have spiraled down into a writer's block. I have stories and a ton of inspiration all around me but I can't seem to put it down in words. What do you guys want to read about? What do you want to know?

I could tell you about my recent adventures with my fellow "misfit" friends (as we have now sort of adopted the title) or about my upcoming trip to Sydney to spend a weekend following Belle and Sebastian around, but I think, instead, I'll indulge in something a little less exciting and a little less scandalous: my hip.

Not the kind of 'hip' that makes you cool-- otherwise I would have written, "my hipness." And then I definitely wouldn't be cool. I'm talking about the middle region of your body that helps you twist, walk, run, dance etc...

When you think about it, it's a pretty major function of the body. But I only seem to discover or, at least, appreciate the essentialness of things only after I have lost its benefits or, sometimes, the whole thing together. I am sure that is how most of us are but I am also pretty sure that when others lose something, they often aren't lying face down wondering how many days it will take for someone to discover their corpse. Enter me on Wednesday night.

I had this somewhat exciting plan about going out into town (which means going to the clubzzz). I wasn't particularly interested in clubbing but I had yet to discover downtown Newcastle and I was looking forward to possibly wandering around a little bit. I actually did my hair (which is a feat since my blowdryer is softly dying in my suitcase due to the fact that it would explode into a million pieces if I plugged it in an Australian outlet) and I got ready to be out on the town.

I met up with some friends from my college. Stuck around casually for a drink before heading over to another college to see a fellow Saskatoonite... Saskatoonian... ? ... whatever, friend. I found him, chatted and was anticipating the bus into town when something in my head went off. It was the warning I have been giving myself whenever I feel an attack of old age strike. I knew I had to make my exit quick and it wasn't hard because my "Stoon friend" was already stumbling over to the bus stop before I could say, "good bye."

I tried to rush home as quick as possible. Now, consider the story of Cinderella. I myself hesitate drawing in Disney to a perfectly innocent blog but that is exactly what I felt like: a girl who had to get home before midnight in order to save her integrity.

With seconds left on the clock, I got into my room to safely live out agony. My hip went out of control.

Ever since I was little, I have been able to do the splits. Not that big of a deal, you say. What I mean to say is if flexibility ever came up as a topic of conversation, my mother would make me demonstrate ultimate flexibility by doing my extreme version of the splits. I would lie on my back and spread my legs as far out to the sides. I could actually get them to lay completely flat against the ground. Now, you try that and tell me that's not an impressive feat!

Every time I had to do this demonstration for relatives, family friends etc etc, I always felt this sense of humiliation. It was a bit pervy really and also a little bit "circus freak." At the same time, I was kind of proud of this bizarre talent. Sadly, my mother thought this would mean I would be good at gymnastics and, boy!, was she wrong. When I got one of my chubby legs stuck between the wires of a trampoline, my mother finally got the message: "Kenzie no good at sports."

... No one in my family talks like that. Nevermind...

Now, sixteen years later, I suffer the consequences of my body tricks. My hip clicks when I walk and, sometimes, like on Wednesday night, it goes into a fit of pain so badly that I'm crippled. I can barely walk or lie down comfortably. I contort my body into different positions to see if any pain is relieved. I often get stuck into a ball, yelping and/or psyching myself up to quickly untwine my limbs before the pain strikes. Except pain strikes fast and it always wins.

On Wednesday night, I was moaning and whimpering so badly, I am sure my Korean neighbour was alarmed (to what he had in mind, I do not know). Since our rooms are like dorm rooms, the walls are thin enough to hear loud conversation or music. (As a side note, last night I heard him playing "Love Shack" at 1:30am).

Anyway, at one point I had my face against the floor, my lower half on my bed and I wondered how long it would take everyone to know that I was dead. Paralyzed by pain. Starved to death. And all because I can do the splits...

(20 minutes later)

I crawled to the bathroom, struggled into an upright position by clutching the toilet and then the sink, and was finally able to reach the medicine cabinet for some Advil.

Advil, folks, is a girl's best friend. Its only purpose is to relieve pain. It will not backstab you like alcohol or people and it tastes better than tylenol. Sadly, however, it does not keep away pain permanently.

I'm waiting for another hip attack (there is always another one ready to strike) but I have decided to take action. I have an ankle that has been swollen since Hallowe'en, a jaw that clicks and locks and a hip that's out to kill me but I have a Doctor mom and the will power to survive. Indeed, I may be across the world but I still emailed my mom for advice. She's given me some exercises to do, so I am hoping that it will help. The last thing I want is to be ruined by my hip while in one of the most beautiful countries in the world.

I'm guessing it won't be a deadly spider or jelly fish that's going to kill me but my own body. Go figure.

'Til next time (if there is a next time),

Kenzie

Day Thirteen in Oz

To my minimal readership:

I started this blog to inform my friends of my daily adventures here in Australia but I have no idea who actually reads this blog. The goal of it really is to minimize repeating my stories over and over. Everyone knows that when I tell a story more than once, I get a little more excited and thus a little more exaggerated. It's a flaw of mine but it makes for good comedy.

Speaking of comedy, my first day of school happened yesterday! I only had one class to attend but I was rather nervous about the whole ordeal. I remember my first day of kindergarden, high school and, yes, university. While they were not particularly exciting in any direction, I am always enveloped by two emotions: absolute paranoia and euphoria. It's a bit of a contradiction, yeah?

Yesterday was an above average day. My paranoia was nicely balanced with euphoria (like a fine wine you could say) so I was pretty much a happy zombie. I found my class early, went to the bathroom to wipe the sweat dripping down my temple (30+ heat guys) and made it in time to meet Adrian. How do I describe Adrian? Here are the basics: He's from Jamaica and he's a student here at Newcastle. He looks to be about 35 and has dreads that are almost down to his knees. He's got a gnarly goatee and a booming voice. You ask him to whisper and you've got a dull roar coming from his throat.

Here are the not-so-basic details about Adrian: I could be wrong but I think he uses a lot of drugs. He's obviously Rastafarian (no big deal) but he's got the cocaine pinky fingernail going on. Forgive me if that serves for more purposes than cutting coke-- I feel so white and naive right now-- but either way, it's disturbing. That's not even the big deal. Adrian has a strange but charming personality (this could be the drugs too). He's very loud, as I've mentioned, but he acts as though he's always on a soapbox. I first encountered him at an International Student Orientation and he shouted at the Dean of the University about his ideology on thinking. 'Just stood up in front of hundreds and said, "Mista! You say we should ask questions! Well, I've got a question for youuu! How come you don' let us ask more questions!? You say we should ask questions but you've ignored my question this whole time!" (He turns to the audience) "My friends! My classmates! We need to ask more questions! MORE QUESTIONS!"

The Dean had to backpedal a lot of what his speech was about to accommodate Adrian's frank outburst. And while I admired Adrian's boldness, I also recoiled into an extra quiet and tentative listener to the rest of the speeches. I'm a wimp, what can I say...

Anyway, Adrian is in my Philosophy class, Democracy, Economy and Global Warming. This would be the class I started my first day off with. I told you I found the room early, went to the washroom and came back to see a man wearing the kind of jester hat you'd win at The Ex. It was bright green and yellow with "Australia" written across it. He had a matching outfit (I have no idea where he shops) and had two different pairs of shoes on. He approached me and asked, "I'm Adrian Fire--- (I couldn't catch it)... What your name?" I said, "MacKenzie." He smiled and turned to the nervous girl beside me and asked her for her name. She said, "Sarah." He burst into a very loud compliment about every single Sarah he had met. He said they were so lovely and pretty and nice. She moved closer to me and nervously nodded every now and then. It didn't seem to phase him because he kept asking her questions about the name, "Sarah."

About this time, a prof came out to ask Adrian to quiet down. He turned to her, made some kind of nod or gesture and turned right back to Sarah in his usual speaking tone. Several people around us just stood to see this Rastafarian Jester seduce a frightened law student named "Sarah."

Luckily, we got to go into class despite the fact that the prof had yet to show up. With no time, Adrian got up on the prof's podium and went onto his computer. He spent several minutes clicking buttons, making grunt noises and searching for something. I was casually watching him and talking to a girl sitting beside me when something like a bomb went off in my ears. Adrian had gone on to youtube to play this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yjd6yBAdKr4

You have to understand that the volume was so loud that my desk was rattling next to my classmate's desk. It didn't seem to phase Adrian though because he started rocking back and forth to the music, shouting, "My friends! Freedom! Love yourself! This Prof is amazing! He'll teach you many things! Freedom! Have a good time!" As he gained momentum, he started really dancing in front of the class. About this time, a few Profs from other lecture rooms came in to yell at him. They were trying to talk him down from the podium when my professor walked in. He saw Adrian dancing and yelling and about three men and one woman trying to reason with him or yell at him.

About the time the video was done, Adrian was ending his mayhem. My prof kind of burst out laughing and said, "Welcome back, Adrian. I think you've pissed off this entire floor." Adrian just replied, "I'm here for a good time!" Beautifully, my prof picked up Adrian's line and started his lecture with, "Well, the funny thing is is that there is a direct correlation between 'having a good time' and Global Warming... Why might that be?"

I felt as though I was in a Terry Zwigoff film or a Daniel Clowes comic. Even I couldn't exaggerate such characters or capture such a weird moment in reality. I live for these moments.

I have to thank Adrian for making my university experience absolutely fantastic so far. I hope to see more shit go down throughout the year...

Please send me a message about your life. I do want to know how you are ... and if you respond on this page, I know that my blog is not an exercise of echoing stories back to myself. :)

I hope the youtube video works. I'm not exactly tech-savvy, so let me know.

Love,

Kenzie