Well. It's been a bit busy lately. I had some exams (crashed, burned, all survivors died on the way to hospital, government has been in touch regarding memorial services and memorabilia, there goes my fucking GPA; however do I define my wonderfulness now?), got evicted (technically a "notice to vacate", but "evicted" is much better when telling a woe-is-me story, I suspect) and had to move home to Newcastle (where it is far less complicated to be a snob and the whole racial mixing thing is solved by making everyone act as anglo saxon as is humanly possible) to take up a new job tomorrow (I will be in academia, so I guess it's cardigans all the way) instead of having a holiday of riotous living and gluttonous excess. The last woman I met who I found even vaguely interesting was a) a smoker, b)divorced, c)with 6 year old twins, d)unable to speak English e)seven years younger than me. I'm thinking of having my genitals cryogenically stored, to be awakened in some distant future where they may be of some use. Too much?
Clearly, this is the best thing possible. My alternative plans, to run away to Japan for the holidays (got the job, had the flight lined up) were probably not the healthiest idea, and probably would have led to some kind of rapprochement with my girlfriend, in turn leading to me waking up confused and groggy one evening as her personal knife-carrying issues resolved themselves on my poor defenceless torso.
Ideally, all of this will lead to some motivation next semester: all I want is enough money to pay a removalist, get my shirts laundered and ironed and fly in business class. I'm willing to live on noodles and beans for the rest of my life to make it happen.