Lost in:

Haven’t posted much. Have to really study- really actually do it this time- less than 4 weeks untill finals and all that- like, untill they’re over. And I have a Huge pile of crap to get through.

So what did I do yesterday? I paid too much for stuff I really don’t *need* (well, except maybe the toenail trimmers- peeling toenails is tough on fingernails, ya know…). Then I came home and had happy thoughts about not having to write a chem lab report, then I thought about the yummy car I saw in town last saturday (60 something or other mustang fastback-y gto… yummy. Very yummy) Which I lusted after, but as I was on the bus, and the car, alas, was not, I did not get to molest it. Like I wanted to. Like I will if I ever spot it again.

So Palmy- since I’m sure someday someone might actually come here… (stranger things have happened)
It’s kinda easy, in the center part of town, anyway, to find your way around- you either walk toward or away from the like 4 tall buildings. Yes, I said tall buildings- with elevators and everything. Like 10 or 12 stories each. Yep, high rise office buildings. Cool, eh? Tall enough that you can see them from, oh, must be 3 blocks away at least. Hey, it’s tall for here.

Stuff to see here? there’s a jazz festival ( I think) this next week or so, and if I didn’t really really really need to study, you bet your butt I’d be there- sounds cool, yes? runs from… today, actually, I think, untill the 4th. Then there’s the international (or maybe just national?) cat show, and… um… I think it’s this saturday, the semi finals, or finals of rugby somewhere. Hey, I’m not a rugby kinda girl, ok? Might have been last weekend. They’re kinda melting together.
Hmm… spent a couple hours (ok, a lotta hours) this week playing on  kayak.com making up totally crazy flight itineraries, and watching it hunt for tickets. Cheapest interesting grouping I’ve got yet is from auckland to charleston, to london, to bkk, back to auckland for school, over the nov-feb “summer” break.  Been trying flying east- something about the idea of landing before I take off is just cool to me. Might play with westward travel next- just ruins the “taking advantage of thanksgiving day” and x-mas sales thing.

Ok, this is just wrong- for 2801usd I can fly from… auckland to sydney, to bangkok, to heathrow, to new york (first real stop). Then the next segment (somehow this whole thing is on BA- they aren’t alliance members with any airlines I usually fly… too bad, this is mucho miles) would take me from NY to manchester (on x-mas day, no less) to frankfurt for all of a week of hanging out in germany (note, I can afford none of this, it’s just really creative procrastination of studying… damn, but I’m good at that). Then on new years day (hey, I’m making school harder than it has to be, why not fly hungover too… ah, self torture, I love it so….) I could go from frankfurt to singapore. one nice long flight. Then in the middle of february, just in time to settle back in for school, I could go from singapore to sydney, back to auckland. All that for only 2801usd.

That’s like 32k miles. craaaazy. really.

Ok, enough of this. back to eating popcorn and goofing off- er, I mean, learning all about how to play with reactions of.. um… acids? yeah, that…

j.

It’s getting close to my last mid term the one I really really, really have to actually do well on. I did not sleep last night. I did not sleep today. I didn’t go to class, either. Oops. Went into town, to get my papers all notaried, and stuff.

note- it’s not a notary here, it’s a justice of the peace. You know, like the elvis at a vegas wedding.

Back on topic. I was down town. I was drinking coffee. I was having bad ideas.

Bad ideas like “hey, j. Let’s hunt for the mythical pants that fit!”

Yeah. Bad idea. Oddly enough, no pants in all of this stinking town fit. Well, I’m sure some of them could, but I want them long. Like, perfect long. Not an inch too short, and 120$, and not pre-washed, so guarenteed to shrink the second I get them home.

so, rant-

Why, in the name of bob, do the freaking fashion people show clothes on people that look like me (only a bit thinner), but not actually *sell* clothes for people that look like me? I am not a mythical creature! I am a girl in desperate want of a pair of freaking black pants! And a long sleave shirt with sleaves that cover my wrists, but I’ve given up on that one.

Is it so very much to ask? I realise that most of the country here is short. Like, really short. Like crazy short. They can’t help that. But would it be so very much to ask that each store (designer ones included- you’d think that, selling the samples as some were, the pants would be longer- nope) carry one pair of black pants, size ten, really freaking long?

This is an important point. Thin people (or so I assume, from shopping) only grow short. Tall people are all heavier than me. I am, therefore, some kinda freak. Me and everyone else that has this problem. Such as short people of average size.

end rant

gotta say, tho- I do love how the sizes here seem to be the same from store to store.

Coffee bad. But there are plenty of places to shop in Palmy, assuming you like the clothes they sell. There are even like three stores selling shoes. Ok, me sleep now. Then wake up. Then not drink coffee. Then drink soda. With Jack. Then go to lab. Yeah, that sounds good. Tomorrows gonna be an interesting day.

Oh, and for those interested out there- a pair of dickies, just plain ones (available in 30, 32, 34, 36 waist, and 32 length only) will run you about 110$ here. Don’t ask about shoes. Just bring them.

j.

Well, not really road so much, as sidewalk.

Monday night I was walking to the common room with my slippers on (well, kinda) with dinner in one hand, and a cup of soda in the other. Tripped over just about nothing in the middle of the yard, flew 6 feet, dropped dinner, spilled half of soda, scraped hell out of elbow.

Did not drop cup. If it’d been a glass bottle, I would have cut my hand, but at least I didn’t drop it. Did shout “fornicate” (or something just like it) on the way down, tho.

So scraped hell out of elbow. it bled. A lot. Stung too. washed it, patched it with gauze, went to sleep.

Tuesday I woke up, it was glued to my arm, peeled the gauze off, washed it again, and tried to go to the doctor.

There are several interesting holidays in NZ when just about everything shuts down. In Palmy those days are christmas day, new years day (maybe) good friday, easter sunday, and this Anzac day. Guess which one was on tuesday?

So no bus, obviously. Gave up after about an hour of waiting in the rain for a bus that wasn’t coming. Wednesday I went into town, got some bandagey stuff, and fixed myself up all nice and good and stuff.

By thursday night there was lots of goopy green stuff seeping around the edges of my non-sticking bandagey stuff. Today (friday) I went to see the nurse to get it fixed up. It was green and slimy, and rather gross. But no nasty hard crusty scab. I love that second skin-type bandage stuff.

So that was gross, and the bandage the nurse used is sticking to my arm, and my ouchy, and all sorts of other stuff that I don’t want anything sticking to, but that’s not the point.

New Zealand has this thing called ACC which is basically like super basic insurance to cover accidents. Pretty much all accidents, so far as I can tell. What does that mean to me? it means that, because I did not trip on porpoise (do people really do that?) It’s an accident. Which means it’s covered. If I’d broken my arm, that’d be covered too. So slimy green road rashy arm o’ infected doom (+1) is covered.

This has a lot to do with travel, actually. Because it doesn’t just cover people living here, or citizens, or residents, or people under 30, or people who’s names end in r. It covers anyone having an accident in NZ (people who “just couldn’t hold it in” excluded, I think). So far as I can tell, it covers *everyone* having an accident in NZ. So, don’t go crazy, and fall off tall bridges, and try to leap tall buildings in a single bound while you’re over here, but know that if some dumbass hits you with his bicycle, and you end up with a broken finger, the local government will cover at least basic care for it.

Can’t help but wonder what life would be like back home if everyone had this kinda basic coverage. No more of the “I cut myself cooking, but I can’t afford a dr. visit, I’ll just wait it out” type stuff. Nice, yes? No worry over whether you can afford to eat if you walk into a wall (I’ve done this part) and break your nose (but not this one) and need to have it set.

And they keep sending me home with spare dressings, so I can change the bandagey stuff over the weekend.

Sometimes NZ isn’t so bad. Now if only they had decent food.

j.

I am not allowed to cook beans anymore. Not without a crock pot, anyway.

For the 3rd time since moving over here, I have nearly set beans on fire by trying to cook them. Why? simple. The easy way to cook dry beans is to rinse them and toss them in a slow cooker. I don’t have one. Next easiest is the same, but into a pressure cooker instead. Don’t got one of those either. So we move on to my least favorite method, and the one most likely to have the entire building standing around outside while I look like an idiot. Rinse and toss on the stove, in a pot of water. Only I don’t like waiting forever, so I boil the water.

Then I wander off to do something else. This is where the problems start. Eventually, all water burns off. It just happens. Then the beans burn. Then you get greasy slimy black stuff all over the inside of your pot, a stinky kitchen, and people trying to get you to evacuate. This sucks

This time, the beans got to the “whole room filled with smoke/ steam bad that you can’t really see the window 12 feet from the stove” point. Yeah, I’m not allowed to cook beans anymore.

Of course, I could fix this so easily it’s not even funny. All I have to do is remember to check on them regularly. Or not try to boil them the whole damned time. Or just buy a freaking crock pot. Or hire a hot guy to do my cooking for me. Or a chick, but that kinda lacks the visual appeal, ya know?

j.

I’m still in NZ, it seems to rain a lot here.

Today, I guess, more than usual. It’s been raining all day long, off and on. It would probably suck if I were trying to hike, or wandering some mysterious new place, but I’m not, I’m warm, and mostly dry, and safe in my little room, listening to the rain, and watching it.

I just wandered back from the common room, actually. With just a t-shirt, no sweater, or jacket, or umbrella. The rain is cold, and it’s probably only about 60 out, but… For a minute or two, standing there, in the middle of the courtyard, I wasn’t sure I really wanted to come in. Sometimes, when it rains like this, the steady, all day long rain, I just want to curl up somewhere warm and dry, and think warm thoughts, and cuddle.

Most of the time, though, like tonight, I want to tear my shirt off and spin, arms outspread, in the rain, head tilted back, just enjoying it. I want to run, bare assed nekkid, crazy, through it, feeling the cold, and the patterns, and the wet. I want to lay out on a table, or a wall, or a walkway, or a grassy field, and just watch it fall on me, the spattering sounds all around, the weight of the water as it lands. Just sink into the rainy night, no thinking, just being.

I’m sure there’s something wrong with people like me, people who love the rain, and long drizzley days that drag on forever in a gray foggy cloud, who can sit and watch it snow for hours without getting bored. Or maybe it’s that there’s something wrong with everyone else. They just see the gray day, not how it makes the greens brighter, or how it makes things look softer, easier. They see the rain-slick streets, not the neat puddles to jump in, the worms crawling across the sidewalk, the way the moss between the paving stones gets so green it hurts my eyes.

They want to hurry through, not get wet, not ruin their hair, or makeup, or suit. I want to stand in it and spin, and spin, and spin. Then again, I can spend an entire day just looking at one item in a museum. Obviously I’m not right in the head.

But yeah. Sometimes it takes a lot of effort for me to drag myself in from the rain. I think maybe rain is like fog. While it’s there, the world is more magical, things look different, and you don’t know what could show up.

I wandered A’dam in the rain, actually. I didn’t have much choice. I wasn’t spending the day in the airport, and it was raining. With in a few minutes of it really starting, the streets were mostly clear, even the winter carnival thing down by the museum. A little rain and I had the place almost totally to myself. I’m sure people thought I was crazy, wandering in the rain, no umbrella or raincoat.
I want to go back out now, lay in the rain, listen to it, get soaked, and cold, enjoy the quiet of it, the way voices echo funny, and the distance it seems to put between things. But I’m sick, and I can’t afford to get worse, so I’m staying inside. If I had a bathtub to warm up in after, and maybe a boy, I’d be out there now, laughing, and spinning, getting soaked, hair swirling around me in a tangled mess.

I love the rain.

j.

Ack! This should so not be happening! I do not get homesick. I mean, where would I be sick for? California? New York? South Carolina? Arizona? Wyoming (ew, ick, wrong)?

So Why am I suddenly all home-sicky?

I hope, really really hope, that it’s because for the first time, it’s sinking in that if I don’t fuck up here, I get to stay for, get this, 5 years. And that if I do that, I’ll probably be here for most of the 5 years. Maybe run away to the states for one or two of the summers, and I hear it’s allowed now to spend part of the 5th year overseas, but… wow, that’s a long ass time.

Maybe it’s just because I really don’t know that many people here (still, I know, I are lame). Or maybe it’s because it’s a $2000, 17-30 hour flight home. Or maybe it’s because riding into town this morning, to pick up stuff I don’t need, so I can study, I realised that I’m going to be in this dinky ass town for the next 5 years. More if I screw up this semester- so porbably more. I’m in this dinky ass, tiny, nothing really to do town for 5 years. And after this year, I’m going to have even less time to hang out, and travel, and do fun stuff. I kinda wish I could skip this lecture, memorise, boring part of the degree, and jump straight into the “fun” part, where you spend at least *some* of your time interacting with other people/ animals, rather than boring ass textbooks about, oh, chemistry, and angles, and all that stuff I hate.

I don’t know. Maybe I need a mantra. Or two. Or maybe just a list of good things I can have if I just get over it all ready, and work my ass off here- like a job as a vet, and…. I can live in NY, or SF, or… I don’t know, someplace big and fun, with neat museums, and good shoping. Like Paris, France. (not paris, texas, please, dear bob, no!). Ugh. I guess so long as it’s *only* (snort) a 14 or 20 or 28 hour flight to go bug my family, I can deal with it. Sure I can.

So yeah, Miss home, even though I’m not quite sure what home is. Probably pizza, and bartenders I know, and tipping, and doritos. And salsa I can actually buy, and canned black beans. Hmmm… home looks like food to me…

Heck, it could just be that I’m afraid of staying in one place this long- 5 years in the same town has got to be some sort of record for me.

homesickness= bad. Make it go away. Please?

j.

[rant]

So, I’m in NZ, right? Doing the school thing, right? And it’s Autumn. Ok.

Nothing wrong so far.

So, last week, stress, not enough sleep, and not eating enough plus walking through the rain (or so I’m told) pushed me over the happy point, and now I’m sick.

Not like a little sick. Oh no, that would be far too simple. I mean, like, hacking up chunky green lung cheese (actually from my lungs), with a nice fever of the type I haven’t enjoyed in a good three months- when I was wandering cairo with malaria. My throat feels like I’ve been drinking broken glass, and I’ve got a hell of a headache. I can’t eat, and I’m coughing. Basically, I’ve got a nasty cold that turned into bronchitis, and is now well on it’s way to pneumonia.
So, what do you do when you feel like this? What, other than go to the doctor? You sleep. You sleep a lot.

Why, you might ask then, am I not sleeping?

Well…. I *was*.

Then the roommates got home. One isn’t a problem. But the perky happy california “I’m, like, from Daly City?” girl is so freaking loud normally that I can’t sleep. Now, of course, she’s drunk. And yelling. And ruining my chances to sleep. And probably pushing my nice happy bronchitis into pneumonia-in-the-hospital land.

On a normal week this wouldn’t be an issue. Unfortunately, it’s easter break, so everything is closed. Everything. No health services, none of that stuff. I keep hoping my lazy ass, drunk as all hell roommate will go the F*ck out, already! If she goes out, I can sleep again- well, untill 3 when she gets back. But nope, no sleeping for me. And all because she’s too drunk/ tired to change her freaking shirt, and put on a sweater. “It’s, like, sooooo cold out? I like, really don’t want to change, you know? it takes, like, soooo much energy, and I really don’t feel like it tonight!”

If I didn’t know it would hurt more, I would run screaming out of here, and smack her. Like, untill she shut up. I freaking knew I should have changed rooms. Damnit.  Sometimes I wish I was the totally retalitory, loud as all hell roommate, and that I didn’t feel bad stomping and laughing, and screaming my f*cking head off at the top of my lungs untill they gave up sleeping too. But I’m relatively polite, so I don’t do that. So they get sleep at night. And naps during the day. And they don’t have studying intensive majors, so they don’t need quiet all day long. Unlike me, who doesn’t get to sleep in, because I actually *have* to go to lab, and class, and am supposed to study too, and so I don’t get naps, because I have lab, and don’t get to sleep at night, because she is laughing, and talking, and basically playing the stereotypical “loud american”, only she’s not blonde, or from ohio, or wearing white socks and keds.

So for all of you out there studying social “sciences”, who are also bad students, do those of us taking a full course-load of *real* lab science a huge favor- Party somewhere else. Somewhere far away, where we can’t see you, and you don’t talk loudly over our allotted sleeping/ studying time. Trust me on this one- you might know more about people, but *we* know where the chem lab is, and we aren’t afraid to use it.

[/rant]

j.

Sooner or later, it happens. I don’t care how careful you are, how much you love what you brought. Eventually, you realise that not bringing that (little black skirt/ pair of shorts/ warm jacket/ whatever) is driving you crazy, and that you really do *need* it. Well, as much as you need anything extra.

I hit this point this week, and headed off to do my least favorite activity ever (well, other than work).

I went shopping.

Last time I went shopping for clothes (excluding buying warm tops for winter/ africa) was at a thrift shop, a great one, where I got a really great black A-line skirt. It cost me 4 dollars. It was in a single didgit size.

Yesterday, I got sick of not having it with me, and wearing jeans every single day, so I went into town.

Now- there is this great “weight-loss” shopping experience known as going from just about anywhere to the US to shop- you drop two or three sizes in the time it takes to fly there. This works in reverse, when you leave the states.

So I went shopping. Not a clue about my size, because I didn’t know what plan they work off of- the shoes fit in US sizes, but what about skirts and pants (which I am not even going to try to find- ugh, hate shopping for pants)?

Simple- they seem to use UK sizing. So the lady grabbed me a couple size 12’s. Guess a US six with hips (sort of) translates to her into a 12? dunno. So tried them on, and… well, 12 wasn’t going to work. It sat about where my fally-down jeans do, and did the fally-down thing, too. so I wasn’t a 12. Tried a 10 (in every black skirt in the store) and that fit. Like, sat comfy on the hips, didn’t grab, was maybe a bit loose, but I’d rather loose than bindy, and did the “just at the knees” thing. Almost got a straight skirt too, but I only really need one right now. Even though it did look cute, it was maybe a bit too businessy for me.

So- what has this got to do with travel? Come on, I know all of you buy something when you travel. I sometimes think I should be a food and clothes traveller, wealthy beyond imagining, travelling from place to place, just to shop for clothes. See, I hate shopping (nothing ever fits- damn my long legs and arms) but love clothes. And how they make you look, and all that stuff. Plus, it’s like a really neat suveneer (bad spelling, I know), something you’ll actually use (one would hope) and great for chicks, since you pretty much *know* no one is showing up in what you have.

Wow, I sound all girly when I talk about stuff like this. You people who actually know me can stop rolling and laughing, and cackling, and howling at the thought of me being girly. It happens, ok?

Which brings me to- sales associates mini-rant. I go in looking for black skirts, wearing a black shirt, torn jeans, and my keys on a big chain. Yeah, sure I’m wearing pastel running shoes too, but… I didn’t think black dye would take. I obviously like black (early childhood clothing influenced by NYC), and have got reddish (need to re-color) hair, and pale skin. Why, oh why must they always try to sell me colored tops? Do I look like I want to be an interesting shade of green? I realise she was trying to help, but trying to sell the tall, pale, now-reddish-headed one colored long sleeve tops is a pretty good way to get me to forget what I wanted to buy, and run screaming from the shop. I’m sure if I were still the super tan near platinum blonde of my childhood, I would be all about the colored shirts. And if I didn’t have freaky long arms, I would love to buy long sleeved shirts. But I’m not. I can reasonably wear three colors, in about two shades each, and all my “long” sleaved shirts end up with the arms pushed up. Why? I hate having that 2 inch gap between the end of the sleeve and my bony ass wrists.

And for those of you interested, my NZ 10 is soemwhere between a 4 and a 6 at the GAP in the states- well, as of last april’s sizes. And NZ is the land of the skirt.
j.

good news- I have money

bad news-

I pretty much failed my bio test

I pretty much failed my chem lab report test

I pretty much totally completely and utterly failed my physics test (I can draw free body diagrams, ain’t’cha proud of me?).

I still have two more midterms left

I woke up sick three days ago

I woke up with explosive diarhea this afternoon

On the plus side-

I managed to “hold it in” while failing my physics test.

Everyone I talked to can also draw free body diagrams- and not do much else. (note, this is a good argument for a- going to class everyday, and b- actually reading the freaking book and working the questions out- think 4th grade math, same idea)

It turns out that while I did bad on the bio of animals exam, my 68 is infact above the bulge-y bit of the curve.

everyone else probably bombed the lab report test too

my student health insurance covers me when I’m sick,

there’s free pizza wednesday evening

I still have two more midterms left

and

Physics lets you drop the mid term, and just use your score on the final for both parts of the grade.

In other news-

Wanted- One reasonably hot guy with sexy voice wanted to sit in my room reading my school stuff to me, take away my computer when I should be studying, cook me food, do my laundry, and fix my hair. Compensation- beer.

j.

I love Jack. I always have, I think. I just wasn’t ready to admit it. And while I do, occasionally cheat on him with bud, or Johny, or jamison… I always come back to jack.

So, I’m doing the student thing, right? The way crazy pick up and move to the other side of the earth student thing? you know, the one no sane person really does?
Right, so…. I’m doing the student thing, and I had my first *real* midterm on wednesday. It was for bio. I bombed it. Knew it walking in, knew it when I left, knew it every minute between turning it in and checking my score.

And I still know it now. So I guess this means that I probably won’t be travelling this study break. but I will be studying. I know, It’s a travel blog, and much tho I’d love to travel, to get my damned butt out of this town for a day or 12, the grades gots ta come first. Which reminds me- Mommy, if you read this- where the heck is my damned letter??? I needs it! like… last week! really!

Other than that- I guess stuff’s ok. I mean, I’m not dead, I bought the worlds most expensive bottle of jack, and I only missed a C on the curve by about 2 points (don’t ask about the before… it’s scary.).

In other news- Where the hell are all the hot guys that are supposed to be here? huh? I mean… It’s NZ! it’s reputed to have all these hot ass freaking guys. but with the exception of the strange guy who was trying to make out with me while I was pretending to know how to dance, no hot guys! none!

There has to be one somewhere, tho… somewhere? please? If I wanted to be surrounded by guys who look english, I would have gone to england. Aren’t there any hot, not blonde guys? a bit of yummy bulk would work, too.

Yes, I need to get out more. really.

Now be nice little readers, and maybe I’ll post all about the serously lame bar I spent an evening in last week.

j.