If I get one this little, people are just going to think I'm gay.

Scrubs quoting, heck yes.
Onto other matters. The lovely Emily made reference to my writings, which is awesome, because she is awesome, and you can't help feeling a sense of glee at being referenced. Or, at least, I can't.
Emily writes about important things, I feel. In contrast to what I write, which is:

• The Occasional Rant, at time periods, people, lack of spelling ability.
• Pure And Utter Idiocy At 1am Where I Can Barely Think Let Alone Write, which has actually dwindled down in recent weeks. I'm going to put this down to getting a job.
• The OhmygoshPURTY Post, where I make reference to things that have inspired me. Such as the Sexing the Cherry post.
• Seemingly Pointless Updates And/Or Memories In My Life, which are generally embarrassing in nature.

Anyway, Emily writes about things such as politics, happiness, and les plaisirs de l'hiver, which I know what it means, and you may too.

Next part.

So the extremely strange post I had going on was, yes, definitely personal. Not in regards to my everyday behaviour. The thing about Tashes, we put up guards, but we also do let people know - a lot - if we're upset/growling at the world. We operate on extremes. Psychotic way to live much? you say, scornfully, and sounding like Blair Waldorf. Au contraire, mes amis, it's a fantastic way to live. Gives you the ability to write characters so much better.

If you're not a writer/in the creative industries, I'm not sure how this would really benefit you, but I'm sure it would.

Anyway, the blog post was in reference to someone close to me dying. I really despise that word, dying, and I equally despise the words passing away. Dying is more honest. So, yes, a person whom I consider a family member died on Sunday morning, 5am.

I was woken up with the phone call, at about 9 (so sue me, I sleep a lot), and immediately called Kathryn, because that seems to be my reaction to most things. Mum's in hospital? Call Kathryn. Family member dies? Call Kathryn. Excitement over certain things? Call Kathryn, unless they can wait til I can attack Kathryn's MSN. Kathryn came over, gave me hugs while I sobbed, and then took me to the city.

She also took me to see Courtney's puppies, which I needed. I used to sit all the time with my dogs when I was sad, and Courtney's dogs were a nice substitute.

At the time I had written the post, it was 12.10am, as you can see. I was in a strange mood where I had cried to Kathryn, cried to Mum, been distracted all day then gotten home and felt strangely numb. That was the culmination of the day's emotion, because I have never experienced death before.

Positives to the situation, because I am attempting to do this more?

• He was in that so much pain, it's now ended. Thank goodness.
• Although it's under really depressing circumstances, I get to see my godmother and her family. 
• I then also get roadtrips with my father, which are always awesome.

Part 3.

Uni has been going spectacularly well, although the assignment thing's getting a little annoying. I'm at a stage where I can't think of ideas. This unnerves me. For non-fiction, I can; fiction, I cannot. Something tells me that this is God going, "HEYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY, herein lies your career path."

Who knows?

Anyway, so. Yesterday my Lit. Studies tutor, henceforth referred to as Viv, reminded us of an impending assignment. We could either do a creative option, culminating in a short story that evoked issues of certain readings one could apply to a space, or an essay option, which explored these in a far easier way.

The assignment was, to find a physical site - e.g. cemetery, garden, house, dressing room - and explore different ways the site is read.

Sitting in the back corner of the room, I'm listening to Viv explain the assignment, and rave about the Gendered Bathrooms essay which we have as an example on Blackboard. One of the girls in the room asks about an idea she's got; I can't remember Viv's reaction because at this stage I've picked up a pen and started drawing. 

I decide to choose a bridal couture shop for various reasons, and after the tutorial, I toddle over to Viv. "For my piece," I say hesitantly, "would a high-end bridal store be okay? One where the dresses are about $7000 each?"

Viv burbles about how brilliant this idea is for quite some time, and as we part ways, she says how excited she is to read it when it comes in.

I don't know, really, life's ups and downs are balancing out recently. Keeping me in perspective. I have better ideas of what I should be doing in my life, and God's giving me a path and reminding me what life's about. I'm excited for what life is giving me. Sad, in some regards, of course, but positives are in all situations.

Anyway, I just got paid. I need food. Stat.

Shoutouts, the sequel

Once again, I went out. Trina's up, and so that constituted getting buddies down for wins and fun and shenanigans and a lot of unnecessary adjectives.

Brisbane, on a Saturday night, seemed to be sort of lacking in any concrete free music. The Plough often has music going on there (Southbank, a lot cleaner than other bars I've been to), and as far as I can see, Geoff Hootan of George fame was who we were listening to.

If you're not aware of him, please go out and find his stuff, based on this conversation alone:

ME: Excuse me! Can you play Ben Folds or the Beatles?

HIM: Can't do Ben Folds, I need a piano... but Beatles, sure.

ME: Across the Universe? Or Hey Jude?

HIM: I've not done Across the Universe for awhile, but I can do Hey Jude.

ME: THANK YOU SO MUCH.

And he did pretty darn well with it, so he deserves love.

Anyway, I found out during the night that my friend Nate, who resides at various locations (his PO Box here, and his actual home here), is quite a great stalker. I promised him a shout out for this. Pretty much, I would mention something. He would know how it went. This was a little unnerving to begin with, until he said, "Are you kidding me? I read your blog."

Thus, Nate, you are teh epic wins.

I realised that his thoughts regarding that ridiculous psychic octopus were exactly the same as mine, so if you like my ramblings, read his. They're a bit more thought out, because I'm pretty sure Nate doesn't sit at his computer, open Blogger, and start writing whatever comes into his head like I do. He appears to have a plan.

In summary: Nate is like me, but a more organised version and also male.

I have also gotten a job recently. Wahey! Not only is it a job, but:

1. It is a job in Kelvin Grove.
2. It is a job as a waitress (ergo, good money).
3. It is a job on uni campus... which I mentioned before I'm fairly sure, because I'm getting ridiculous deja-vu.
4. It is a job with awesome people including someone who possesses my middle name. I haven't told her that, because that's creepy, but it's something I noted because my middle name is so often mispronounced (Caroleenah, not Carolineah. I am not from the US, I have a South American heritage). South Americans ftws!

So I am very very impressed, and extremely blessed to have such an awesome opportunity. I'm loving it. And I've gotten another piece for freelancing (reminding me how much I love the word 'pop' - as in, I'll pop you down to write about one-piece bathing suits - be there for the thrilling instalment) so pretty much, another shoutout - to God, the most awesome and epically rad Guy there is out there. 

Assigments done, headaches gone, cold chips scarfed and a sandwich begging to be eaten. Well, I think my work here is done. Time to journal about formalism and structuralism. 

(Oh, yeah. There was a soccer bag outside my front door, I picked it up and took it inside without examining its contents... I believe that it was stupid, and I've now picked up drugs, drug money, or Charlie's kidneys. Curses. How the heck do I get rid of them?!)