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.

Such great heights? Pah. Elbow frostbite, more like.

So, where I was hunting for awesome timetables and for wins at life, and where I was not feeling much pity for those people in 8am lectures?

I’m feeling a little less secure about this. I may or may not have a look on my face of, Did I do it right? Because I am honestly considering this now. I have come out of one lecture, which was epic awesome. I was feeling all levels of excitement, because we even got out an hour early. (It takes very little to make me gleeful.) I had images in my head of what I would do with this hour. Lupin turned on, listening to Such Great Heights as covered by the fantabulous Ben Folds, while stretched out in the sun probably talking to various people at home.

I clearly have not much in the way of logic.

At 5:00pm, or 1700 hours, whichever way you choose to express it, the sun has chosen to fling the moon in its place. Don’t get me wrong, the moon’s pretty. But it doesn’t really complement my outfit. That being, an outfit of jeans, ballet flats, a t-shirt and a very thin cardigan which I managed to make a thumbhole in... with no nails. The moon more complements an outfit of an Eskimo suit.

I don’t own an Eskimo suit.

So I left that lecture, with the thought of, I will find somewhere warm! I will be a great explorer! Huzzah for life! I had very little else on my mind beyond warmth, as it’s seemingly crucial to my survival. On my iPod, I realised that Ricky Martin was popping up an awful lot on shuffle. This could only be changed by finding said warm place, then listening to awesome.

The warmth had to be found. It had to be.

I did not find warmth. Instead, I found a park bench in the middle of whipping winds; they caused shivers which only reinforced how epically I failed in this quest. I was trying to type with my hands under Lupin, and I don’t think you need me to explain how much of a success this is not. All I could do was watch the hour where I was heading into my next lecture approach at a sluggish speed. I mean, sure. Ben Folds was listened to, but as a result my net kept lagging. So pretty much all I got was:

I am thinking it's a sign that the freckles in our eyes are mirror images and when we kiss they're perfectly aligned and I have to spec –

And this played over, and over, and then some more just for funs.

Time slowly ticked onwards. My elbows seemingly managed to contract frostbite, or something similar. I was, with 5 minutes til it was socially acceptable to get into my lecture, having stern talks with my mind about how it wouldn’t be okay to have a blanket or a purple dressing gown in the lecture.

And that lecture came. I forgot about the cold. And had this argument with myself the entire way home.

Argh. So thing to learn from this, don’t be stupid next time, Tash. Actually wear the coat. And you’ve just committed the sin of being didactic, as you were expressly told not to do. Ah well, I am really not concerned by that. It is more a lesson to myself than it is to you, and I learn strangely.

[dances off page, singing Such Great Heights]

And I might as well enquire why, with so evident a design of insulting me, you chose to tell me that you liked me against your better judgment!

Hey, Tash, what are you doing?
Hey, Random Questioner. Just watching Pride and Prejudice. 
Didn't you watch that yesterday?
Yeah, so?
And the day before?
What of it?
And pretty much every day this week?
[insert witty comeback]

Yes, I've been watching much Pride and Prejudice, and Austen-related stuff. I'd like to say it means something. It probably doesn't, because there's no use trying to deconstruct life. You do that, you take away the beauty of spontaneity, and the wonder that life always creates.
Life is here for the taking. That's all we need to know.

Prettiness aside, today marked a return to something which I believe was aptly documented by myself, a few weeks ago, on my calendar:

SEMESTER 2 OH NOES!

Semester 2. Oh no indeed. I am slightly okay about its impending doom/wrath/taking away from my naps, but it could be worse. As I found out, sitting calmly in my 102 lecture this afternoon (though also wondering if I punched Lupin for being slow and freezing, would it count as abuse/animal cruelty/violence against machinery, Australia Says No), there is an 8am lecture for 102. 
I should feel pity for those stuck in that lecture, but I don't. As previously discussed, I put in the effort for once, and won in the realm of awesome uni timetables. I feel relief.  
Anyway, so uni is on again tomorrow. 2 hours there. Wednesday, 1 hour there. And then, what's that hitting me in the face? Oh yeah, that's my weekend, because it begins on Thursday.


Whoa, scene change, Pride and Prejudice. Darcy is failing, ever so cutely, and Lizzie is shutting the man downnnn.


What? Right, I'm sane. I promise. Hey, what are you doing with that straitjacket? Did you look at my friend's Facebook wall where I conversed with Christian from Moulin Rouge? Well, I don't care. This is like a constant hug. You'll never defeat me!


Ahem.

So, for something of worth, I went to Mana Bar last night. Again. Trina, my lovely pal who I have mentioned, also came along, as did Nick. I told our Mana-pal Matthew that Nick was my step-father, and Trina was my mother. 
(Trina is 1 month older than me but Trina has the epicskillzors.)
And we had a Sunshine crew accompanying us. Joe, Stanfield, and the new guy on the block, Nathan.
-Stanfield, if you met Nathan before you met me, now is not the time to mention it, 'kay?-
We had picnics, at Roma Street Parklands. They have swings, I forgot to use them. We went to my church, it was radicalfuns. (Joe knew more people than I did. It was embarrassing.) Then we went Mana Bar hopping, and Guitar Hero funs was had. Some fighting game funs were had. Raskulls funs were had. 
Walking along the Valley streets, shivering, notsofuns were had.
Drinking water from a square bottle thirstily funs were had.
I could go on for awhile.
There were the Mac/PC debates, and then talking in jargon about IT topics and gamer topics which danced, cackling with immense glee, over my head. Instead, I reverted to Shakespeare. In my head there was a combination of shallicomparetheetoasummer'sday and trying in vain to remember Shakespeare's grave inscription. (I know it now. The gist and nub is essentially, Move mah bones, suckah, and I'll put a moooove onnnn yoouuuuu!) 
It was great, it was spectacular, we went to a park.
I ate Kool Fruits (HECK YES. Love you, Spar in the Valley) and sat nicely on a net. Stanfield swung from side to side. Joe balanced himself on top of a pole which was a great effort there. Nathan exchanged sarcastic remarks with myself.


Tiredation. This post has taken far too long to write as I am now contemplating waging a war with my brain. Bring. It. Ownnnnnn.

Vicious hunting

I don't particularly like the reasoning that in all of us, there is a hunter gene. We're all aching to hunt down our prey, and either death-roll it (a la crocodile, which really is admirable. Spasms leading to death is how it should be), or leave it in our web for later. This dislike is probably just because I am neither particularly athletic, nor willing to hunt out anything beyond shoes, but still, it stands that I don't like the reasoning.

The biggest spots of 'hunting' I've ever done have involved chasing. And not generally with an outcome that's pleasant:

• Chasing my dog, Inca, after she's run away (and left Tuscany sitting pathetically on the driveway because she, too, shares my idea about running). Dog is captured with many shouts in anger, and my shame only amplifying this as I've generally forgtten the leash and now I have to carry this stupid Golden Retriever home. Who at this stage has more often than not, found a pool then found a construction site and thus is covered in mud.
  
• Chasing after a 3-legged lamb to give it cuddles. This involved me in a pen that probably was the size of the average living room/kitchen combo, racing after this lamb. With three legs. Who I couldn't catch. Even when I tried to be tricky I did it at the pace of a glacier, and the lamb, moving at its normal and accepted speed, fled. Lamb was never captured, and in my attempt to vault the fence dramatically I cut my leg and got a splinter. So the fist-shaking, "I'M GONNA GET YOU SUCKA" was not very emphatic.
• Chasing after someone in a game of Capture the Flag, or something equally ridiculous. Game went as so: I saw one person getting far too close to our side. I sprang off from the line with thoughts of the admiration I'd receive at such an accomplishment - the unfit, slightly overweight girl (at that time, I'm good now but still no less fit) capturing the athletic guy and saving the day. That's when I can't remember anything. I can't remember anything. Can't remember anything.... and then the memory comes back with someone sitting in front of me, asking if I knew where/who I was. I responded snarkily as I had no idea why I was in agony. "She's herself, Jared. She's fine." Anywho, then Trina gasped, "YOU HAVE A NOSE BLEED!" I got very excited about this, and promptly fainted. When I got home, I had blood on my face, a very big and puffy upper lip, and after weeping softly to myself in the corner of the living room because my family was mocking me, I trailed from room to room, feeling rather regal in my purple, cat-spotted dressing gown, talking about complete and utter idiocy that I believed was crucial at the time.

Even sushi-trains, I can't work out. This is where Kathryn satisfies her so-called hunter longings, and with skill and finesse, both captures and devours her prey. I sit there lamely, eyeing off dishes from across the other side, which people take. Kathryn eventually gets so ashamed at my rumbling tummy, she just goes around the other side, grabs the three dishes I'm trying to get my hands on, and lets me sit eating chicken chippies and tempura prawns. In a sushi restaurant.

Mainly, the reason why I'm considering this is because today - 4 minutes ago - I had to brave that cruel cruel world of class-scheduling for Semester 2 uni. I had it all sorted out - I'd work my butt off at night on writing concepts and creativity, then work during the day, while having 4 days solid to do this (or, until I found a job, I'd sleep, write and knit like a crazy spinster). But others have ideas too. Those may be similar to mine, or they'd end up being, "No, I wanna go out at night and go clubbin', cause dat be where my bros' at." Channelling You Got Served aside, I was forced to do something that I'd not done. Hunt.

And with great skill and finesse, I got the classes that finish at 9pm, start at around 4pm, and don't exist on Thursday to Sunday.

Winning at life may not come often, but I think I just did.