Im going to be a journalist, what of it?

No. not really. But I am getting a story published in our mannix fortmonthly magazine, which is only available to students. So I thought i'd share it with you guys..

Since coming to Mannix my lifestyle has changed dramatically. Not just the regular changes, like three squares meals a day (My gap year was spent in a constant state of grazing), or nocturnal sleeping patterns (I went to bed early last night, it was only 12.30), or actually having to study (or, at least, allotting time for study which will be filled with other important tasks, like musing about Mannix). No, the biggest change I have noticed since coming to Mannix is the way in which I approach clothing.

 At the start of the year, when I was a fresh faced fresher (as opposed the grubby worn in fresher that I now am), I thought really, really hard about the clothes I wore. It was impossible to get to know every single person at the college all at once so the main way people could get an idea of what I was like was to look at me. I would comfortably sit in my room in a singlet and trackies but when it came time to venture to the comm for a spot of ‘getting to know your fellow top easters’ quality TV watching, I would change into ‘real’ clothes, lest someone think I has enough self esteem to wear what  I want.

Pretty soon, I got to know my fellow Top Easters, and the desire to be comfortable began to outweigh the perks of not seeming like a bogan (plus telling people I spent my gap year hanging out in a country pub kind of gave me away anyway). And so the comfort dressing spread to the Comm and all of the far reaches of top east.

It was ok though, because my comfort (code for horribly-mismatched-first-thing-I-threw-on) clothing never left top east, so to the people I didn’t know very well I still appeared to be decent, respectable functioning member of society.

And then came Thursday morning breakfasts. When I have spent the evening (and early morning) playing pool, cavorting with collegians and shredding up the deserted dooleys dance floor, waking up for breakfast and a soul sucking lecture is not my favourite thing to do. The only way to get from the comfort of my own bed to the raison bread loaf before anyone else is to trick myself into going by not actually waking up until I arrive. You know what I mean, its the old thought process ‘if I go really really quickly my body won’t have time to disagree with this hellish hour of the morning and send me back to bed.’ So I roll out of bed and drag on necessary items of clothing as I shuffle my zombie ass down to breakfast. There is always time to change after food and coffee have entered my system.

And there we have it, my first foray into dining room inspired clothing apathy. It was a slippery slope from breakfast onwards and pretty soon all of my meals were eaten in the comfort of my Mannix trackies and a purple jumper (any one of the 8 that I own, it looks like barney the dinosaur threw up in my wardrobe).

It was there at the dinner table, surrounded by respectable placement med kids, that I made a conscious decision to never let my mannix uniform (which I have begun to affectionately think of it as) leave the grounds and spread to Monash, nay all of Melbourne!

And so, despite feeling sometimes like the MCSS has hit me with a truck, rather than just provide a good function, I always put some thought into wearing an actual outfit to uni, even if I do come home straight after and change. I thought this was the right decision on my part until today, when my consistent efforts were rebuked and my resolve was crushed.
Today was a glorious day, all sunshine and blossoms, so I decided to encourage the onset of a sniffily nose and good mood with a spring dress. When I walked into German, my German buddy looked me up and down and instead of complimenting the dress (who am I kidding, that was never on the cards), telling me that I should be cold, or even giving me a polite guten morgen, he launched into a lecture about how I dress too nicely, thus showing him up and making him feel like a slob. Wasn’t I an arts student? He inquired, and since when do arts students make an effort? I ought to show up in trackies like him.

The last place I vowed never to let my mannix uniform go, and that is the place that it will be welcomed with open arms. So I have decided that I will be judged by some for dressing down, and some for dressing up. I will be judged by me for everything, so at the end of the day it makes no difference, and a hoodie is hells more comfy than a high waisted belt.

So watch out Italian tute, trackied up Cecelia is coming your way this Friday.

Photography makes my heart sing. Can hearts sing?

Hello dear bloggees,
Im sorry I ignore you so much, I was a much more reliable 18 year old than nearly 20 year old.
I have been doing a photography workshop, der photography workshop ist sehr gut. (ive also been learning german.)
Today was the last day of the workshop and now we have a week and a half to edit the photos before they get sent away to be printed in A1. A1 is huge!
Everyone should come along tothe exhibition that starts on the 20th of September. It will be a hoot and a half and there will be pretty pictures of mine kicking around. I thought I would add some photos to the blog because I have been editing and I want show some people.

I didnt take this photo but I did crop it and adjust it and I love it.

The poor fox is dead. These two photos were taken by Jessica Lambert, credit to her.

One of the themes of our workshop was album covers. I took this one.

Confetti, I have decided, is the best thing in the entire world.

If the world was covered in confetti, surely no-one would ever be sad..

Pleasant Sunday Afternoons

I am back at college now! I have been for a week and words cant express how happy I am to be back. I kept trying to write a blog post but everytime I sat down to write about all the fun things that were happening I would get whisked away to participate in another fun adventure.
I figure while I have time I will tell you about my excellent goldilocks mud filled day!
So I get back to college and go to my room which is mysteriously locked. This doesnt bother me much because my room frequently locks itself, I think its my caring friends who twist the knob on their way out of my room and lock me out. So I manage to manouver the key and open my door and I am greeted with a friend who sits up bolt right in my bed and quickly says 'I can explain!'
It made me chuckle a fair bit coming home to find an occupied bed.
After an explanation from goldilocks we head down to breakfast where I have a cry and a yell and a rant with my Richmond buddies, all who are equally as devastated with last nights result. (Why Richmond? WHY?)
at about 1pm we all head over to the Uni oval for an inter college football match against Queens. Here is the thing about football. I love it.  I love it I love it I love it!! The ground was covered in a giant mud puddle that had a poo-like aroma. It is such an amazing feeling grabbing a girl around the waist and throwing the two of you into the mud and then wrestling desperately for the ball. I played on the ball for a quarter and on the forward flank for two. The ball, it turns out, travels a really long way in the course of a quarter. I tried to keep up but either running in mud is incredibly difficult or I am so unfit I could be out run by a wombat.* I am hoping it is the former.
needless to say that by the end of the game we all had a dark brown hue and a slight odour to us. Although we lost we had an amazing game and were all comparing mud coverings and attempting to hug unsuspecting supporters. When it came time to partake in a sausage in bread, we hard working mud covered footballers discovered the issue of black gritty muddy hands and a complete lack of outside taps. What happened next I am just a tiny smidge proud of, because it is a shadow of my former, more disgusting, self. Another girl and I found a particularly deep puddle  and decided to wash our hands in it. It worked an absolute treat and, with the exception of my poor fingernails, my hands went back to my natural skin colour and I was able to enjoy a vege burger in bread and a knowledge that I will have an immune system of steel.
after the game ended I went home to have a shower. the is nothing quite like a shower after rolling around in the mud. This mud was of a much higher caliber than my regular Wang mud. It would not come off! I literally had to scrub and scrub. occasionally I would find myself scrubbing and realise that it wasn't essence of mud I was trying to get off but rather an oncoming bruise.
so now I am clean safe and sound and I have a grin that I just cant wipe off my face because if I were to be asked about my ideal sunday, this would be it :)

*That was actually a really bad comparison because wombats are deceptively quick. Over a hundred metre stretch they could (if they had the inclination) beat Hussein Bolt. It sound unbelievable but just wait until they make a sprint for your car, then you won't doubt it.

Holidays: 2 weeks of joy, 3 weeks of wishing it were over..

I guess you're wondering why I havent posted in awhile. Its holidays so surely there must be lots of excitement and adventures going down. Alas no. I have spent my holidays doing literally nothing, absolutely NOTHING! I have spent half my time lounging around at home watching that 70's show and getting grumpy at Dad for being in the house and half my time lounging around melbourne getting grumpy that my veins are too small to give blood. and YES, I did drink enough water.
The reason I didnt want to post during the holidays is because all I could bring myself to do was complain, and I have nothing legitimate to complain about and I wasnt keen about coming off as a spoilt uni student. 'Oh woe is me, I get more than a months holidays in the middle of the year with absolutely no homework or responsibility.'
So now we are drawing to a close of the break, only one week to go! Words cannot express how much I want to return to the constant company of young people, that is college.

On another note, 7 months ago, the day before I went overseas, Jocelyn, Emmeline and Myself went and got some glamour photos taken. Not something we would normally do but it was a tonne of fun and we have finally got the photos from it. When we recieved them they had been photoshopped to make us all look ridiculously glamourous and smooth. Inexplicably, they left a giant pimple on my face, maybe they thought it was a monroe piercing?
So today I have spent the morning editing the photos even more, and changing colours and stuff. The originals that were given to us are up on facebook but I thought I would share one or two of my edits :)
Also, I would like to note that while lots of people just click a button that says sepia, I actually manually adjusted the colour balance to achieve that result. Im not sure why I have a high horse about that, I just do.













Gahh I freaking love ^this^ one!

5 Weeks of joy ahead.

 So I am two days into holidays and I have discovered a plethora of sad things about not being a college. Here is the thing though, its so negative focussing on what sucks, I would much rather be positive about life.
so yes, the hot water at home does run out, but at least if I have shorter showers then I am being kind to the environment. Yes, I have to take my shoes off at the door, but I dont have to walk up two flights of stairs. Yes, there is no pool table here. No upside about that- I miss the pool table! but despite the inferior plumbing and and more defined concept of inside outside and the lack of pool table, there are so many upsides to being back home.
At home I got to hop into mums bed and get a snuggle before she went to work. I am aware that I am turning twenty and that might seem a tad old to be hopping into parents bed but it is my firm belief that there are two types of people in the world; Those who hop into their parents bed; and those who want to.
yesterday I went to a work related conference with mum and got to pretend that I am a contributing member of the workforce, something that I dearly miss. Today I slept in despite the pizza oven construction noises that are going on outside my window and when I woke up had pancakes and DnMs with Dad.
good start to the holidays! I cant complain so I wont.

This is unashamed procrastination.

So I am thinking about starting a bit of a series in my blog entitled ‘Things I hate about not being at college.’ Unfortunately I am still at college until Monday so I cant start it just yet, but just for starters here are some things I hate about being at college during the tail end of exams:

1, my college bffl has left, leaving my evenings free and depressing

2, noise curfew, although slackened, is still in place. The only reason that its slackened is because there is NOBODY HERE! Or at least not in my end of the corridor.

3, I have to study.

4, My friends have to study and I feel guilty distracting them.

It’s almost over and then I get to home for a month and start missing college properly!

 

Rajon Rondo is a cutie-pie

My sister and I have a pact. I am not to ever stop playing soccer and she is not to ever buy an Iphone. You may think this seems somewhat ridiculous however it was put in place for some very important reasons. I will explain why my end of the bargain needs to be held up.

Year 12 for me was terrible. Often I would be bogged down in studying or stressing because I am not studying enough and I would think that it might be better for me to skip soccer practise. It was never a good idea. Going out into the rain/wind/bitter cold to run around for an hour and a half sounded horribly unpleasant but in the end it ALWAYS made me feel better and inspired me to continue studying. Playing soccer allowed me a chance to give my brain some fresh air; It let me focus my energy and skills on something that yielded immediate results; Kicking a ball gave me a channel for releasing pent up anger and frustration and drinking wine and eating cheese with the women afterwards let me socialise and give me space from my family (whom I love dearly.) Whenever I didn’t play soccer I became, for want of a better word, twitchy. The odd thing about this twitchiness is I didn’t even notice. I would think that I was fine and that life was just getting a bit harder but it was never until I played soccer again that I realised that I hadn’t been able to zone out of life for a moment. You know that feeling of calm, control and disconnect from stress that people get from yoga? I get that feeling when I can sprint down a soccer pitch whilst dribbling a ball.

This year I started college. The first 4 months of it I felt as though someone had dragged me backwards through a swimming pool by my ankle and I was just trying to get regular gulps of air. That’s not to say it wasn’t fun. I decided though, spurred on by the $400 registration fee and timetabling clashes, that I would give soccer a miss for the time being. My justification was that there were plenty of things going on that could keep me exerting energy, I could play pool whenever I wanted and if I started getting twitchy I could go for jogs.

Oh Cel. Rookie error.

Tonight I played basketball. Emma came and begged me to play because there were not enough girls to play and they couldn’t find anyone and some unnamed sources had pointed her in my direction. I told her how terrible I was as evidenced by the interfloor mixed basketball and I told her I would play because I’d hate to see people let down and, lets be realistic, I cant say no to sport. I was so worried because I last time I played basketball I felt so clumsy and out of place, which was an unfamiliar and disconcerting feeling given that playing sport is my nirvana. When we started playing I realised that two things were very different.

1, my attitude. I went into it willing to give it my all and I somehow managed to talk myself into giving me a break about my skills because it was only the second time I had ever played it and nobody is perfect (hear that mean Cel NOBODY is perfect!).

2, This was all girls. Now I’m not saying all girls are easy to play on or not aggressive because its just not true. But when playing all girls and people you don’t know its hells easier to be aggressive and assertive.

By the end of the game I had learnt a few things about myself. I am fit enough to play a zoning game of basketball, which is a nice feeling that my lungs/ legs didn’t let me down. (this of course may have been due to the fact that I wasn’t trying to everything all at once and give it my 120%). I know very little about the rules and strategies of the game, which I plan to rectify with a few sauce bottles and the expertise of Colin on my floor. The last and most important thing I learnt is that it really doesn’t matter which sport I am playing, I can hustle and get that ball even if I cant do anything with it once its in my possession. Once it’s a challenge the opposition girl will be damned if she thinks she is going to win a game of ‘who wants it more?’

So when I finished playing (and winning I might add) I realised something. I was no longer twitchy. I felt SO GOOD. So I think I am going to start playing basketball regularly because even though I am not the best this is a perfect opportunity to learn and remain twitchless for the rest of the year.

I just ate a box of tiny teddies. I feel sick but I refuse to feel guilty.

I have a photo that I really want to show people. it’s a naked, albeit modestish, photo of me. I really love it because although I haven’t changed a single thing about how my body looks. While I was taking it I wasn’t thinking about how to sit so as to look the skinniest or to try and look at all sexually appealing. It turned out exactly how I wanted it to. Sometimes I think that I would like to show people because I really love it but then I remind myself that my avenue for showing people photos is via the internet and I’m not entirely comfortable with there being a naked picture of me on the internet. Accompanying this photo is a paragraph I wrote in a moment of anger and frustration with how everyone around me seemed to think that they had a right to comment on my body. The following comments were nearly all made in about the space of a month if I remember correctly..

I get told that my boobs are huge, that my boobs are small.

That I am ‘clearly larger’ than friends and that I am a ‘tiny little thing.’

I have been called a bitch for being skinny, I have been called a fat bitch for eating doughnuts.

I have had my eating choices questioned so frequently that I have developed an automatic response.

I wear clothes comfortably in sizes 8,10,12,14, S,M, L.

I get praised for losing weight and asked with kind concern if I have gained any.

I get told to ‘flaunt it if you’ve got it’ and told off for inadvertently showing too much boob.

I feel guilty for not being self deprecating and vain for thinking that I am beautiful.

I am what society would call the ‘right’ size, and I struggle to cope with the pressure that is placed on me with regards to my body. How then does everyone cope, who doesn’t fit society’s mould of what a woman should look like?

Since coming to college I noticed that pressure on young women doesn’t necessarily come only from other people, it comes from them. How have we trained women to think that they don’t deserve food? Food is what we need to live and yet for women, they are doing a bad thing eating it.

“oh, I want *insert food here* but I shouldn’t..”

“This tastes too delicious to be healthy.”

Screw that! I want to be able to have dessert two nights in a row without feeling the need to justify myself. I want to sit in the comm and polish off a block of chocolate with a group of friends without anyone mentioning weight. I want to be allowed to think that I beautiful without it being a personal affront to everyone else.

I feel powerless to do anything but something HAS to change!

carpet on stairs- Absolute genius!

Oh of course! I didn't post about ball!
The Ball was on last Friday night. Just in case you have images in your head of a classy evening of drinking port and discussing the train wreck that is the labor party I will set the record straight: Ball was held at a club in the city, Ball Park Music played and everyone wore cute little cocktail dresses- except of course the guys who looked extremely dapper in suits. It was an excellent evening. Going into the event I was a little nervous because I rarely drink and spending an evening in a club - whilst sober and with aspergious tendencies towards a dislike of loud music - didn't sound like it would be much fun. I was wrong. It was excellent fun! The band was great, the company was great, the photos of the evening were great and I was supplied with pre paid for lemon lime and bitters all night. There were only a couple of downsides:

Downside number 1: The girls bathroom. I have now discovered the most terrifying place on earth. Drunk girls passing out, getting into my personal space, and screaming (seriously, whats with the screaming girls??) whilst lining up in the GINORMOUS line for the bathroom. when I was at the back of the line I couldn't possibly figure out why it was taking so long to go through people. when I reached the front of the line I figured it out. There were at least 8 cubicles and only two of them were in action. I assume the rest were occupied by girls throwing up, passing out, or having inpromtu DnMs whilst toilet sharing. The turn over of the two active toilets was also incredibly slow because girls have to finish their conversation with their line buddy before using the facilities, no matter how busting everybody else in the line is. Try and sneak ahead of a seemingly distracted drunk girl who is mid conversation and you will find yourself literally thrown out of the way by the girl who is casually meandering closer to the free toilet. Drunk girls, I suspect, are often unaware of how strong they are.

Downside number 2: I wore the wrong heels. I thought I had made a wise decision in picking the shoes that strap onto my feet and absolutely can't come off but in my infantous (I dont know if that is a word but let's say that it is) knowledge and experience of heels I forgot to consider ground contact surface area. The floor of Billboard is VERY SLIPPERY! choosing a heel with a 1cm square point was a recipe for disaster. Luckily I only fell over once directly due to my bad choice of shoes, the other time someone fell onto me and my chair experience similar difficulties to my shoes and so fell over with me on it. On both my descents to the floor I managed to accidentally drag a boy with me. You know, for having two separate boys on top of me throughout the evening, I got very little (that is: no) action on Friday night. Funny thing about having guys land on you when you fall over- It hurts. A lot. I woke up the next morning with all kinds of odd bruises.
Anyway, Here are some pretty pictures from ball..

Swat Vac silence makes my brain want to explode.

did you know that careful use of the word 'hard drive' can bring me to tears.
I was brought to tears today by my hard drive and lack of external hard drive. Editing photos is not an easy task on a computer that is 100 years old. I swear this thing is like my own personal teenager. Objectively they are rude, slow, lazy and unpleasant to be around. but I have been with it for so long i'm emotionally attached to it and dont really want to quit it.

Anyway, here is a photo of how I spent part of my afternoon, it isnt exactly how I wanted it because my computer schitzed out on me..

I bribed myself with lollies to study tonight. I am going to end up with type 2 diabetes and an Arts degree.

*hypothetical conversation taking place at Caraselle*
Andrew: seriously Julie? did you just spray soda water all over yourself AGAIN?
Julie: oh you're always making fun of me. *flicks through anormous bird encyclopedia* have you seen the birds on the billabong, I cant figure out what they are..
Andrew: ill look it up on the internet.
Andrew: *calls through from inside the house to the back verandah where Julie has settled into bird watching on the couch with her soda water* Honey! i've got an email from Cecelia!
Julie: Cecelia? that name sounds familiar, who is she again? Oh I remember, that was Gran's middle name..
Andrew: No, remember how we were tossing up about having a third daughter, well if I remember correctly, we did!
Julie: you're right! I remember now. gee, the last time I saw her she would have been in a shower full of ballowens. I wonder what she's up to these days?
Andrew: wonder no more, she has sent us the Bi-annual newsletter from the college at which she is living.
Julie: College? they do grow up fast. Well, email me the link because you know very well that the only way this family communicates is through email, whether we are living in the same house or not.
Andrew: will do. I've got the next episode of TBBT cued, are you ready to watch it?
Julie: TBBT?
Andrew: the big bang theory. Cecelia always got my acronyms, you know, I miss her. She is definitely my favourite daughter.
Julie: third time lucky I guess..


http://issuu.com/mannix-college-students/docs/phoenix_one__2012?mode=window&viewMode=doublePage

Leukemia sucks.

Ok, I know that it is late at night and I should probably be going to bed instead of writing this but I am going to because I think it is something worth noting about college.

Tonight was shave for a cure. Here is what I was thinking:
Shave for a cure:

- you Rock up

-you sit in uncomfortable chairs in a crowded room.

- you watch three people get ready to have their heads shaved which isn’t entirely a big deal because everyone knows they needed a haircut anyway.

- you see approximately one swipe of the razor before a hoard of said shavees closest friends huddle around and conmpletely obscure shave from view.

- you sit bored chatting to your friends about other things until the crowd thins and you see a shiny raw looking bald head. Cool. Anticlimax.

-you leave feeling that you could have better spent that time watching ‘The Voice’ and speculating over why Seal has yellow fingernails because in the end you are just going to see the shaved heads at breakfast tomorrow, and every meal after that.

Well, after those expectations it’s a wonder I showed up. But I did because I finished my essay today so I wanted a break and I thought I ought to take full advantage of the college life. Here is the reality of Shave for a cure:

I head up to the JCR where there are couches and blankets and assorted chairs and everyone is gathered facing the stage. In the corner there is a pseudo tuckshop operating selling those excellent sour strip things to which I am addicted. There is a lively, jovial atmosphere as two committee members, Efftwo and Jim head up to the microphone to MC the evening. A number of people have signed up to sacrifice and mutilate various amounts of hair on their body. The raising of money is done auction style, with the winning bidder getting to do more or less whatever the hell they want to the victim. Often people would bid against each other until they got to a certain point and then they would combine the money they were willing to put in to do it. In cases like Effones stomach waxing he said he would do it if we raised $200, so the MCs put it out there that we could bid ten dollars each, enthusiastically announcing the incremental increase as more and more people raised their hands. At the end everyone who bid would put their hand up and get it recorded down so that they knew who had pledged money. It takes a surprisingly short time to get 20 people to agree to give $10.

It is something really quite spectacular about sitting back and watching a room full of young adults at the stage of life most commonly known as the poor uni bum stage, get together and be so generous with their money. I felt a bit proud to be part of a group of people who care. Of course, it could also be interpreted as a group of people who want to humiliate close friends and watch them suffer.

In the end I think $2000ish dollars were raised for leukemia. The various acts that brought this money about were as follows:

1 Letter waxed into a chest

4 waxed legs

4 waxed eyebrows

2 waxed gooches (I recommend choosing to remain blissfully ignorant)

2 Starburns

1 trident facial hair

1 Old man style semi bald head

1 waxed stomach (a VERY hairy stomach)

2 waxed feet (which is apparently ridiculously painful, esp. the big toe)

1 strikingly accurate giant penis and testicles covering a head

3 hair dye jobs which I am yet to see turn out.

Good effort!

I think its nights like these that aren’t a big deal but are one of the reasons why college is so amazing. Its cool to be able to have fun, be immature and do good things all at once.

Vitamin K is found in BroKoli

Hello there! I have an assignment due, so you know what that means... PROCRASTINATION POST!

Right now I am sitting on the bed in the corner of Jono’s room. He and Callum are teaching each other about Vitamins and playing with a nerf sword. I am quietly typing away on my laptop trying to get my essay done, which doesn’t look like happening, which is sad. Yesterday I almost had an essay induced meltdown but I caught myself just in time and went to Callum’s room to discuss with him my writers block predicament (or I would burst into tears- I still wasn’t sure which was going to come out). When I got there he and Jono were studying with each other and they told me to come and do my essay with them. It was lovely and made my day immeasurably better. So today I was again feeling down and I thought about yesterday and how pleasant it was that I was able to do that, and I knew that Callum and Jono were again studying so I then had the following conversation with myself:

Me: hmm, if I go and find the guys then I will be far happier and might actually get study done instead of sitting here in the pigsty that is my room, feeling sorry for myself.

Evil Cel: Yeah, but do you really want to be that annoying girl who now thinks she can hang out with the guys because they took pity on you one time?

Me: Wow! Bitch! You are right though, I am fairly pathetic, I can’t even handle one essay. Why would they want me busting in on their hardcore study?

Evil Cel: Yeah, its best if you stay here, by yourself. Maybe you can have a little lie down while I remind you about all the other work you are behind in. seriously, why are you even at Uni?

Me: Nah you know what, I’m going to go and see what the boys are doing, because you’re being mean to me, and even if they don’t want to hang out with me it will still be more pleasant than sitting here with YOU!

Evil Cel: don’t come crying to me when they hate you.

Oh hey Evil Cel, THEY DON’T HATE ME! So sucked in. They looked positively delighted at the prospect of me joining them because they are lovely people and despite what I try and tell myself, so am I.

Oh dear, I just let the internet know that I am crazy.

Ok I have fifteen minutes before lunch so I am going to pretend that my essay is due  tomorrow and write some crap because a wise woman once said ‘you can edit crap, you cant edit a blank page.’

Oh and here is a picture of all the people (except evil Cel) who featured in this story.

Ahhh I just handed in my First assignment!

I know this looks a bit weird because it is the same photo as my background (or maybe nobody noticed and now they will because I pointed it out). I saw one of those cool word cluster things in one of my lectures (arguably the most boring one- Media and german culture are battling it out) and I thought I could so something cool and relating to me. The thing I really miss about my blog is the time that I set aside everyday do my photo, it was zen me time. what  I dont miss is the sleep I lost because of that time. I went to be far too late last night.

It didnt turn out the way I had originally planned and to get it how I wanted it would mean I would have to redo it completely, which one day I might, but last night was not the right time for that.

How was your day?

Today was a good day! This is odd because its tuesday and tuesdays go for 5 hours and include lots of long chunks of language concentration.
So Last night I watched true blood in the comm. It seems to be a bit of a ritual forming, and I enjoy it although I would like a spot more warning about when a crazy sex scene is going to appear on the screen. While I was watching true blood I indulged on some crappy chewy lollies. Rookie Error. I diligently put myself to bed early and then proceeded to lay wide awake and twitching slightly for the next hour and a half until the lollies wore off and the college students stopped having what sounded like a rave right outside my door. Even with that introduction to my nights sleep I woke up feeling positively chipper and the thought of eggs on toast for breakfast spurred me out of bed. Alas, when I arrived at breakfast the hot plate had been all cleaned up and I had missed my opportunity for eggs :( Nevermind! I had just right and spent an hour organising life and perusing facebook before heading off to italian.
Wait, do you guys actually want to know all about my day? because that is what I am going to tell you...
In italian I sat with a GIRL -pause for a round of applause- whom I had befriended a week or two ago. Then, get this, I listened to my lecturer talk about fontamara (which is the italian book we are reading at the moment, or not reading as the case may be) for the WHOLE HOUR. ok, 50 minutes..
after that I went up to the Italian seminar. You have to understand that the italian seminar is reasonably stressful. They always say, if you do your reading then tutes will be great, if you dont, they suck. I never do my reading. I try, but when it is in italian and you havve no idea what is going on then it suck a fair bit and I give up and do something else and then have to rock up to the seminar feeling lost*
So I came into my seminar and sat down with my other friend (this one was a guy) and his two friends. they also felt incredibly lost and so we would discuss what needed to be discussed and spent the rest of the time talking about football. My friend remembered where I was from and we all had a bit of a laugh about Essendon standing up an entire town.
Then I went home for lunch, which was reasonably disappointing but a bowl of cocoa pops so cheered me up! (that’s right, my big I-no-longer-live-at-home rebellion is occasionally having cocoa pops for a second lunch.)
So then I tootled my way over to Australian Politics, and had one of the more boring lectures but was still more interesting than all my other lectures, which says something about how engaging Nic Economou is. It amuses me how blatantly pro Melbourne Uni that man is for a Monash Lecturer.
Then I raced Alex up to our fourth floor two hour long German tute. He took the stairs and I took the lift. When I walked into the classroom he was comfortably seated and I had to apologise for being late and sit right up the front at a makeshift desk. Moral of the story, always take the stairs.
So we had a German test and then studied the gender and plurals of nouns. Fun fact: the way germans decide what is female, male and neutral, and the way they pluralise their nouns is COMPLETELY ARBITRARY. So we just have to learn it. Although I learnt a cool new German word today: Trillerpfeife. It means whistle, which I think makes sense.
And then I came home in a good mood and put off doing homework by telling you about my day. Now I am off to Italian tutoring, because this is the first week that I have remembered it!

Also, here is some pictures of a pretty dress I made out of newspaper.

the guy I am creepily staring at from my window is wearing cool pants.

Things I wish I hadn't done today:
-eaten half a block of chocolate
-googled Tony Abbott in budgie smugglers

Things I am glad I did today:
-wore a top whilst studying so that when Gossy came busting into my room it wasnt awkward. KNOCK GOSSY, KNOCK!
-pretended that I was writing a blog post telling you guys about the significance of media when in acutal fact I was tricking myself into writing the crappiest first draft ever. but still a first draft!
actually, that is why I am doing this blog post because I feel guilty that I wrote one and you dont get to see it.

Things I am going to achieve for the rest of the day:
-wear a pretty dress
-kick pool arse at dooleys

I have the patience to use photoshop on a 7 year old computer. I deserve a medal.

I forgot how much editing photos calms me down. Because of turning 19, planning a trip around the world, taking a trip around the world and starting university (wow, that’s been a pretty great 6 months) I have fallen out of the habit of editing photos. Tonight I was feeling pretty tired and discouraged because of my inability to write essays because of my inability to research because of my inability to understand readings. So I sent myself to bed rather than be grumpy on other people and while I was sitting on facebook I though to myself thought I, “why don’t I take a picture of myself and edit it to cheer me up?” “great idea!” thought me. So I got my camera out and took 38 photos of myself and picked one to edit. It was just like the good old days of being 18. Its funny, editing my face doesn’t cheer me up because I am making myself look prettier, it cheers me up because I can set my mind to something and methodically change small things so that when you take a step back, it looks far better. It makes me feel like I have useful skills that could get me somewhere even if I fail at studying. It also, however oddly, makes me feel incredibly powerful.

After I edit a photo I never want to show people the before picture because they will be able to compare the two and then they will notice the imperfections that normally aren’t noticed but because they are gotton rid of they will be noticed. Tonight, however, I will put it up because I am feeling particularly good about the fact that no-one really cares what I look like as long as I strive to be a decent human being. Also I am also going to tell you what I changed:

-Changed the levels to create more of a contrast

-Retouched Eyebrows

-Removed blemishes

-Lightened upper lip

-Evened the structure of my eyelid

-Shrank my hand to make it seem less obvious

-Brightened the picture

-Raised the contrast

-changed the colour balance to reduce redness in my cheeks

-Added a a black border to the top left sides to make my face smaller

-Created a little bit of extra head band

-And Blended the headband into the background.

Viola! I don’t think I forgot anything…

is it just me, or are music videos just non-sensical, mildy pornographic videos of famous people?

I am stuck in the vortex of College life, and oh what a glorious vortex it is!
I am coming up to end of my second week here and apart from having completely lost my voice it is going swell-ly.

So, Mannix life. its great! Wednesday night is formal dinner and everyone gets dressed up and looks like hogwarts students and sits down to a fun, albeit traditional, dinner. afterwards we go to Dooleys. I do kind of love Dooleys, but seriously, what establishment wouldnt I love that has three pool tables?

thursday night is always function night and I had no idea how much effort the committee* put into decorating the JCR. this weeks theme was heaven and hell. freshers had to go as heaven and returners went as hell. I went as an angel teetering right on the edge of fairy, but lucky a fluffy halo tipped me over to the edge of angel. there were some noteable, and not necessarily politically correct, outfits:
4 guys dressed as the pearly gates
hitler

the pope

a collingwood supporter

...

oh hey. I forgot about this! Someone came and distracted me and then the rest of the day was spent watching television and playing soccer and hanging out with all of my new cool friends who I LIVE WITH!!

today was fish friday for everyone except the vegetarians, for whom it was delicious creamy spinach and ricotta ravioli friday. Try and tell me its not a good idea being a vegetarian!

Ok its 1.45am I am exquisitely happy right now so I will be going to sleep :)

*the word committee has a LOT of double letters..

Can it be sunday already please?

So, Today is Saturday. Sunday -tomorrow- I move to Melbourne for University. I hate packing. I hate it. Mum keeps telling me I lack executive function which isn’t really helping me feel inspired to sit in a room on my own and try to organise myself. The problem with moving into a college is this: its like a giant school camp. Remember school camp when you wanted to pack heaps of stuff but didn’t want to show up with waaay more stuff than everyone else and get made fun of? This is like that. Everyone will be trying to haul loads of things into our little rooms whilst simultaneously keeping rogue parents under control and judging everyone else on their ability to multi-task.

At least I can relax now that I know what I am going to wear. What you wear on the first day appears not to be of much concern to anyone except myself. It is a huge deal! A great deal of the aforementioned judging will go towards the clothes a person is wearing. It needs to be comfortable, reflect ones personality, be weather appropriate (which is surprisingly difficult in Melbourne), and be conducive to impromptu floor sittings and get to know you games.

All this is just me letting off steam and sneakily procrastinating more packing.

I should go and pack..

Wait! Look at me! I swear i'll write more often, i'm sorry, please forgive me!!

I am back in Australia. Ive been back for ages! I feel a little bad, you guys missed the funnest part of my trip but it was so much fun that I didn’t bother writing about it, I was too busy having fun! So I’ll quickly review what I have done in the past 3? Weeks so everyone is up to date:

Played soccer with a bunch of Italian boys.

Humiliated a bunch of Italian boys whilst playing soccer.

Visited San Marino with Sabrina and a friend of Mamas.

Gone on a blind double date in Rimini with Sabrina and two lovely (but devastatingly young) Italian boys named Stefano and Alessio.

Wagged school and spent the day in Verona, eating delicious food and falling in love with the city.

Sprinted for EVERY SINGLE TRAIN that Sabrina and I have had to catch.

Flown to Frankfurt on a flight made up entirely of German businessmen.

Fare evaded and shopped in Frankfurt

Been UPGRADED TO BUSINESS CLASS for the 11 hour flight to China

Tried to lose my luggage in China

Had to adjust back to economy for the 11 hour flight home.

Acquainted myself again with smokin’ Joes, and my family.

Went to a gorgeous wedding and died of heat exhaustion.

Managed to just survive the heat and head for the beach

Spent a week in pure warm bliss

Spent a week desperately slathering on sunscreen trying not to burn my delicate winter skin (failed)

Baked lots of chocolate goodies

Worked at the pub as a kitchen hand and translator for the new Zealander and Italian chefs.

And that more or less brings us up to today. In two weeks I will be moving to Melbourne to start University which is exciting! I will try and update more frequently because I like writing about myself as much as you like reading it :)

Ok, I have to go and clean the kitchen now.

What did you do today Cel?

Well thanks for asking title, I went shopping in Milan and bought some cool knock off raybands from a questionable vendor on the street and an awesome leather jacket that I dont feel nearly guilty enough for the goat that died to make it.

Is it just me or are all italians unreasonably sexy?

Why go overseas if not to experience new things? Experience new things I most certainly did!

Last night I went to a water nightclub. whats a water nightclub? thats exactly what I wanted to know. all I knew was that I needed to wear my bathers and my big girls pants because we were going to stay out far later than the regular appointment I have with my bed. just by the by, I have had to employ the use of my big girl pants so frequently that they are practically tattooed on me.*

So Sabry and I rock up at this Aquaworld place and say we are with Stefanos party, which gets us a free drink wristband and a self perceived air of importance. We make our way to the biggest changerooms I have ever seen in my life, this was the wegmans of all changerooms. This place had actual hairdryers, not just those boxes on the walls (which they also had). we used a magnetic bracelet that we were given to open and close our personal lockers and at the end of one of the aisles there was a scanner that you could find the number of your locker in case you forgot it. so we get into our bathing suits, which brings about the first thing that I am slightly uncomfortable about. You see, my body and I have a surprisingly good relationship for me being a 19 year old girl. (woman? Do I get to count as a woman yet? boobs, I think yes), well, as I was saying, We get along. BUT, put my pasty arse next to 100 drop dead gorgeous brown italian women and I start to feel a tad ...luminous. and not in a good way.  So I was thinking all of this when Sabry and I were standing under the fluorescent lights of the changeroom in front of the mirror and she said "uffa! I feel so fat wearing just my bathers." now, I would like to point out that she looked like a goddess. So I have decided that every single person in that changeroom saw an ugly them and sexy everybody else. So maybe only I could see my harsh shade of white.

next challenge, actually going out into the public area wearing a bikini. 

When we walked out all my worries were removed and promptly replaced by a brand new set which I didnt have time to address. 

this place was incredible! imagine a cross between a nightclub, Taylor Vaughn's beach party in she's all that and a Miss Italia swimsuit pageant after party.

there was a DJ on a platform above the main pool and about 100 people waistdeep in water all splashing and dancing and yelling "ooooohhhaaahhooohaahooahoohaoha BARBARA STREISAND!" It was really dim which was great because even though everyone could still see each other it was much easier to pretend I was invisible. Or fully clothed. You see, I dont seek out places of alcohol and dancing very often, and when I do I am always wearing enough clothes for 5 of the girls there. Here, I was in a bikini. but, as luck would have it, I was still the most clothed out of anyone because I was wearing board short as well. 

We met up with Sabrinas friends and went upstairs to go and cash in our free drink wristband. Poor me didnt have a clue what to order when it transpired that Italians dont know what a lemon lime and bitters is. So we hung out in the far too brightly lit eating area for awhile drinking our drinks and having more language issues than helen keller.

When we went back and entered to water/dancefloor for a bit of boogying I was again put in a situation I  have never been in. Dancing In water, not wearing very much with literally hundred of people I didnt know. Most of whom were hot italian boys. But I will talk about the italian boys later. did you know that I is hard to dance in water? its kind of like slowmotion.  I tell you who didnt have trouble dancing, the impossibly beautiful sexily clad women who were being paid to dance on the edge of the pool. I have always been fairly opposed to women dancing sexily for men for reasons that I think are fairly obvious but this was the first time that I had actually been to a place where it happens (other than american high school dances with the right people in attendance). So, I am comfortable in my sexuality and I dont think that women should dance for men like that but all these things in play I couldnt take my eyes off them. They were mesmorising, which i guess means they are doing their job well. When I took a step back it was actually a really amusing scene. There are three girls dancing on the edge of the pool, two security guards either side, posing intimidatingly but with faces that clearly read they were still trying to figure out how they got a job so good. just below the girls dancing was a hoard of italian boys literally drooling and and pawing at their feet. throughout the rest of the pool there were groups of people dancing but every single male was focused on the dancing girls and every single attached female was trying desperately to divert his attention to herself. When the girls went away for break there was a collective groan of disappointment and sigh of relief and the mosh pit of desperation dispersed and everyone went back to dancing with/ eating each other.

so, these italian boys. I know what your thinking, a pool full of hot italian guys, are we going to get a great/niece nephew/ grandchild/baby friend? I hope you werent thinking that actually, im not really like that. you know what was really really sad about these impossibly beautiful italian men? (yep, theyre men now).  They are exactly like australian guys. If you put them in a big group together they are far more interested in each other than all the scantily clad women who want their attention. and they all seem to be  a bunch of boof-heads. *sigh* oh well, they were cute, even if i suspect they couldnt string a sentence together.

so then next thing to happen! there we are dancing away when an italian guy comes over to shake my hand and introduce himself. when I took his hand as per handshaking rule he took it and kissed it, exclaiming lots of things that I can only imagine in italian. I tried in vain to tell them I hadnt a clue what they were saying and physically imposed the shadow of some personal space. Sabrina took my other hand and pulled me away from them and started dancing with my whilst pissing herself laughing. 

later when I was sitting on a louge at the edge trying not to die of exhaustion a guy, and it may or may not have been the same guy but he looked familiar, asked me if I would like to have a drink with him. the girl who I was sitting with, who hadnt said a word to me all night, Just subtly wagged her finger at me indicating that I should say words to the effect of Hell no mister! a few moments of hope for him and language barrier frustions me later and I had successfully told him that I didnt in fact want a drink. Actually thats not entirely true, This girls boyfriend also said something to him. I suspect it was "she doesnt speak italian, but trust me, she doesnt want a drink. please go away."

after all the shananigans were over sabrina and I went back to the changeroom to brave our own self esteem and get changed. as we were leaving the changeroom there was a tonne of girls standing and drying their hair with the provided hairdryer or carefully applying make-up. the scene we were met with when we entered the waiting room outside the changeroom was approxiamtely the same number of guys sitting fully clothed looking bored and hopeful every time a girl exited the changeroom.

so, that was the aquaworld. 

Its worth mentioning that this photo was taken when they were kicking everyone out so it is very empty.

*just for the record, Im not entirely sure how my big girl pants are supposed to manifest themselves so the tattooing might not make sense.

the playlist sabrina is playing only goes to further prove that she is my gemella.

okay, im going to publish this junkyard of a first draft which ordinarily wouldnt see the light of day. why? just on the off chance you guys prefer to get the gist of what im saying rather than a well set, organised and grammared piece of writing (which i probably dont offer half the time anyway).

hey guess what, im in italy! go ahead, put on a foot-a-scray accent and say it aloud with passion- ITAALIAAA!! i love italy. there is hot boys, loving family, hilarious friends, gorgeous villages and to top it all off, silvio berlusconi is no longer prime minister! when i got to sabrinas house i instinctively relaxed and felt at home. the main reason i know i felt comfortable and relaxed is because i now have post travelling cold and i havent finished travelling yet!
so im going to talk about Ulysse for a little bit. for those of you who dont know him, and i sincerely hope that there is at least some people who read this who arent my dear family and friends. Ulysse is my little host brother, when i first came to italy he was three years old and we had a rather explosive relationship. he would yell at me in incomprehensible italian so i would yell at him in english. he would sword fight my legs and i would take his rightfully deserved youngest atention. our relationship was basically summed up when when mamma yelled "ulysse! smetti la!" i felt smug until she followed it up with "Cel! anche tu smetti la!" thats right, i got yelled at the same as the three year old stnading next to me.
there was only two things that united us without any debate. pirates of the carribean and harry potter. i dont know if you are familiar with three year olds, but some of tyem like to watch a film and then when it is over, watch it again straight away. so we would get to the end of the harry potter "con la spada" (with the sword)(the second one)  and he would say ANCORA! (AGAIN!)  i would heartily agree and start it all over again until eventually mamma would crack and yell "basta! watch another film!" which is when we would switch to pirates of the carribean ("con la spada!")
now that im coming back and ullysse is six i am interested to see if ulysse would remember me  an if he would like me. first thing he did when i got there was show me his complete collection of the harry potter movies.
 we are going to get along very well..

Dear Cecelia, SAVE YOUR EFFING BLOG POSTS!!!!

I want you to imagine a witty and poignant blog post about home and androgynous europeans, because you cant read it because I cant get my head around clicking the save button.
Ok, I have to go and fly to Italy now. one parting word of advice, look up microwave in german- best word ever!

Pimiento means Pepper.

"Cel is having a blast over in spain!" I hear you all say to the pleasant enquires about my health and whereabouts. But I also hear the whispers. "does anyone know what is she actually DOING?"
Well, i've decided to show you. You see, the reason why I am having such a good time here is because I am spending literally all day everyday doing what I love. For example, today I hiked up a mountain, had a bit of a wander around and then spent the rest of the day editing photos and practising my swearwords at photoshop.
Pure bliss.