Day in the life of.

Friday. 6am. Slam my palm in the general direction of my beeping phonebrick: miss, slam again.
Clothes. Kettle. Lunch. Face. Breakfast. Milk out of date as of today. Seems alright. Remember I can’t drink caffeine. No chamomile tea left. Putting on the kettle was redundant. Blast.
Keys. Wallet. Phone. Bag. Sprint from my front door to catch the rattling tram.

MUSIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIC =D

7:55. Stumble and hurdle my way out of crowded tram. In attempt to not crush an older woman’s foot I instead ram my shoulder some poor architecture student’s elaborate model of a house. Horrified. “Sorry!!! Sorry!!! Oh crap I’m sorry —” Sorry sorry!!!” I wade across the road without being run over, as a song comes into my head. I smirk inappropriately at the mental image of a certain clip…

Super Junior Sorry Sorry (K-Pop: great for when you want something a lot like pop but Western pop generally makes you ill!)

March-walk. Richard Berry. No. Redmond Barry. Watch 6 sweaty men jump, feet together, up all 12 floors. Consider it. Take elevator.

10th floor. 8:08. 3 minutes late. Greetings. Establish, resigned, that all on my tutorial table are as tired as I am. Slouch in seat, pull out crumpled notepad. Tutor discusses mean and mode and range? Grin. Oh, I love first year psychology.

Discuss sunset-watching assignment. Others seem disappointed it doesn’t have structure and relies on judgement for what is appropriate to include. How is that a bad thing?! If I have the time I’ll make it into elaborate prose.

10:05. Couch. Sun. ERC. The Doors of Perception. Darned comfortable. (best spot for reading on campus and it’s aaaall miiiiine.)

12:57. Baillieu. Essay about breast implants and the politics of women’s bodies. Sexual Politics. Sexual Politics.  Muse on the nature of the graffiti on all the wooden desks in the Baillieu. Wonder if people write down mobile numbers in poor taste or good faith?

2:24. Catch up with friend. Rant. Politics, personal issues, socialization and biology.

2:30. Realise I’m discussing politics on the manicured lawns of the best university in Australia. Take the moment to feel really good about myself.

 5:30. Tram. Man who looks like stereotype Jesus gives me a weird look, probably because I was giving the tram ceiling a weirder look.

6:30. Meet my favourite stray cat in it’s usual spot: impeding my movement when I get home. Inside. Dishes, sink, washing cleaned. Food.

7:30. Study? Nah. Reply to awkward message from ex on facebook with something even more awkward.

7:35. Study? Hmm. Discuss breasts with everyone in house.

8:20. Study? Hmm… Blog.

Forecast for the future of today…
Timothy Leary’s How to operate your brain on youtube.
Sheila Jeffrey’s Beauty and Misogyny which is apparently worth $100 up, which is odd cause I bought it from the Melbourne Uni Bookshop for around $30 with my precious Centrelink Scholarship. Melbourne Uni student privileges I tells ya! =D
Boyfriend will come around tonight – he’s off sketching members of a fetish club in St. Kilda, and it’s transgender night so he’ll probably be busy this evening – and I will probably feed him, as well as my other housemates, because I’m just. that. nice.

Study is also on the cards.

Funny, but I’ve been in such a good mood all this week (shout out to Ron!).
I’m pretty sure all university students should at least *consider* doing things that they actually enjoy at Uni. Speaking to a biomed student today, and it seems that she hates many of her classes. I don’t know how she manages.

This has been a  rambling post: next time I will have *proper* content and coherent ideas! Maybe!