Woolamai Beach

The mysterious search for a house share

This might actually be better titled: "The full-on annoyance of rejection."  Oh, my god.  It is unbelievably difficult to find a share house in Melb.  Am spending most of my time looking for stuff near the city and not too far out and there are some reasonable prices and places.  The people I've met have seemed decent and I really liked a girl so much I wanted to be her friend even though I wasn't the "chosen candidate" for the "spare room."  

The rejection is palpable.  Thank god for nice friends.  Until I still haven't found a place in a month, then I'm afraid rent might be charged (understandable).  Apparently, due to all the terrible bush fires, accommodation in Melbourne has been quite hard to find as everyone has flocked in from the countryside.  It seems to be the exact opposite in Chicago.  

The search continues!  Bugger...

New City

I've been in Melbourne almost a week now and I'm enjoying the vibrant characters strewn throughout this city. From the funky graffiti art to the gorgeous surrounding hills, I feel like I've landed in a pretty fabulous place.

I didn't realize how important coffee is here. But damn, do Melburnians take their cafe seriously. And I've found that it doesn't matter what time of day, whether it's 8am or midnight, someone will stop what they're doing and ask, "Want a coffee?" I asked my friend last night as we're all huddled around the kitchen table sipping the hot, creamy drink, "How do you go to sleep with such a crazy intake of caffeine?" The answer was simple--"I just do." I have a sneaky suspicion that after a lifetime of drinking bucket loads of tasty beans the people here have formed an immunity towards caffeine. Instead of getting super jacked at all times of the day, they can just enjoy the intense yumminess without the side effects. Unlike me. But gimme a year.

I'm also finding that most people here need a car to get around, not unlike Los Angeles. However, LA has nothing on Melb. It's just that the city is spread out so much that the public transport will get you a portion of the way you're intended to go. If I didn't have mates to help me out with lifts from time to time, I'd probably never leave the city centre. Hmm, that's probably not true...

My friend's father just asked me if I'd like something to eat. He's making me a sandwich the lovely person that he is and asked, "Do you want colors on it?" As in vegetables. Oh man, I love these people. I really like it here.

Clark Kent is gay

From journal 3.16.09

Am sitting in a plane on the tarmac of LAX in Los Angeles.  We are preparing for the mighty 14 hour flight to Sydney.  I am bummed we don't have our own personal tvs like they used to have in the good old days.  What is happening to modern travel?  I need the map screen so I constantly know where in the world I am.  Otherwise I feel lost and unfulfilled.  

The flight from Chicago to LA had interesting flight attendants.  They were both flamboyantly gay men, one with bleach blonde surfer hair and one with Clark Kent glasses minus the handsome Clark Kent.  As I got up and walked to the back of the plane to relieve myself,* I saw Fugly Clark Kent inhaling one of the "gourmet" meals they were selling on the flight (ripping off is more accurate for the cherry tomato, 2 pieces of lettuce, and rubbery turkey).  His eyes looked up above his geeky specs, he raised his eyebrows and then continued vigorously to shove his cherry tomato and 2 pieces of lettuce down his gob.  Quite defiant, actually.  I thought he might spit out, "I can do this y'know!  My acting is ON HOLD."  

Now I am wishing I had bought that overpriced prison food because my stomach is grumbling and saying it hates me (nothing new).  Time to get knocked out for this shitty ride.  Ah, the glamour of traveling...

*Um, I didn't actually 'relieve' myself at the back of the plane as that is quite rude.  FCK was sitting by the bathrooms.  

Adventure

Hopping on a 24 hour flight to Melbourne today. After an excruciating decision of "window or aisle" I've decided to take the window seat on the airplane. I never know which one I'll be happier with but I figure I'd have to get up all the time for the people next to me if I'm on the aisle than if I'm next to the window. Omg, what if I should've chosen the aisle? Is it too late to change it? This trip is doomed, doooooomed! OR, what if they seat NO ONE by me on the flight and I have all three seats to myself? Yes, better be safe than sorry and stay where I am. Then I can sprawl out on the seats like God intended me to.

Am pretty much like a starving chimp at this point. That is, I am crazy and maniacal trying to make sure everything is ready. So many things to do and not enough time! Keep getting bouts of sadness at leaving people and my apartment but at the same time this is an adventure! I live for this shit.

If you don't hear from me soon it means either:

A) My plane has crashed in the Pacific and I am now living on a desolate, tropical island a la LOST. There better be doctors who survive our crash and someone who looks like Matthew Fox. And someone meatier than me so I'm not the first person feasted upon if worse comes to worse.

B) I've decided to come back home and am in the depths of shameful despair. I will not show my face anywhere if this happens and I can assure you 99.999% it won't.

C) I've landed safely in Australia but have decided to fly directly to Nimbin and become a filthy hippy selling 'special cookies' to unsuspecting (and very suspecting) tourists. I will walk to Byron Bay from time to time to collect seashells to tie in my dreds and frolick naked in the open sea.

D) I just don't like you anymore. Sorry.

Au revoir! Ciao! Adios! Kisses, dahling. Please cross your fingers I don't go down in the Pacific.

Just thinking...

Doesn't The Edge from U2 kind of look like a bull terrier? I can't look at him without thinking I should give him a doggie treat and a pat on the head.

Helena

A girl named Helena befriended me about six months ago in a clothes shop.  She was from London and we got along quite well chatting.  She asked for my number and invited me to a party she was throwing at her apartment that night, which happened to be about 2 blocks from where I live.  So, I went.  She then told me there was this jacket that'd look really great on me in the shop and could get me something like 50% off.  

The next day she got me the coat and it was beautiful.  We then went shopping for her.  As we walked into the expensive shop she called the shopgirl over who she clearly knew and said, "Hey Zoe, why didn't you call me back?"  Zoe, a gorgeous Asian girl in heels so high she looked like she was balancing on stilts, looked blindsided.  "I didn't get a call from you, Helena."  

"Yes, you did.  I called you.  Why didn't you call me back?"  It was at this point things between all of us began getting awkward.  My eyes were pointed towards the ceiling and bouncing all over the place.  I would've started whistling if I thought it would help (help ME feel less awkward, I mean).  Helena continued to ask over and over why Zoe didn't return her phone call and finally she said, "Ok.  Let me see if I have the right number for you."  And then proceeded to read this poor stilty girl's phone number out loud in front of me--a total stranger.  I felt embarrassed now.  This was only the second time of meeting Helena and I could clearly understand why Zoe was dodging her calls.  Because she was smart.

After that little incident I began receiving round the clock texts from Helena.  Ones that made me uncomfortable.  Like, "Kat???  Are we meeting up???  Where are you????"  Whoa.  Talk about intense.  The sheer amount of question marks really began to freak me out.  I managed to dodge her almost constantly by making up one lie after another.  "Can't meet, really sorry.  Have to watch a friend's pet."  Or "Ooh, sorry, can't.  Going to get my eyebrows waxed."  And even, "Really, really can't meet you.  My dad's in the hospital."  Finally, I stopped responding altogether hoping she'd take the hint.

One day I answered my mobile without checking the caller ID and was super peeved when I heard Helena's clipped little British accent on the other end.  "Kat???" (Even through the phone I could hear the excessive question marks) "How ARE you??? Where have you been???  Are you avoiding me???"  Oh. Dear. God.  I wanted to scream, "YES!  I think you're a fucking weirdo. Please go far, far away and never come back."  Instead I was nice and chatted with her for a bit.

It was in the middle of the conversation where she said, "I was at work today at the Body Shop and this transvestite came in looking for make-up.  He offered me a job to be his personal stylist and I think I'm going to take it!"  

"What?" Did I just hear this correctly?  "Are you really going to quit your job to be a personal stylist for some random tranny who walked into your shop?"  I couldn't imagine a normal person having that kind of reaction.

"Yes!!!  I mean, he IS dating a professional hockey player so I know he's got money."  I hit my head with my hand in frustration.  I really wanted to not be speaking with this person.  She continued to gab on for another few minutes about how she was going to re-invent this tranny whore and get rich.  I told her good luck and was off of that conversation like a prom dress.

It's been about 4 months now and I got a text from her this morning saying the usual, "Kat??? How are you??? Can we meet for coffee???"  I gave in and said yes for no other reason except I was feeling particularly masochistic towards myself.  She sent another text asking what time and when I didn't respond immediately I got this from her: "Kat???  Please don't disappear on me again..."  Oh for fuck's sake.

I went to go meet her after having been delivered some bad news about my apartment.  She saw me and said, "Hiiii!  I didn't think you were going to come."  I wanted to walk back out the door but then felt guilty about being mean so I prepared myself for a rough hour or so of pretending to be interested in what she had to say.  

She went on for the next hour and a half basically pitching her new business she's just launched and giving me her new cards she designed.  Then she says I'm such a good friend and we need to keep in contact, etc.  I needed a breather so I took off for the bathroom for 5 minutes.  When I came back she was engaged in a really big business pitch on her mobile.  "I will use your products on actresses!  I know David Beckham's photographer really well and my studio will only contain your products."  How David Beckham's photographer fit in on that conversation is beyond me other than the blatant effect of name dropping.  And I still haven't quite figured out if Helena is a compulsive liar or just totally insane.

After I sat through a full 5 minutes of Helena's pitch and staring out the window wishing I were the pigeon eating newspaper off the ground, she finally snapped the phone shut and turned back to me with shining eyes.  Man, I want the pills she's definitely chowing.  Then the nightmare of subleasing would be beyond me and I could justify releasing the wild lunatic inside me.