Well, this is nice.

I haven't done this in a really long time. Like, more than a month? I don't know, but not only has it been a really long time, but so much has happened since I last posted.
I finished my job, I was sick, I started travelling for four and half months. Y'know. The usual.

So because I feel I have at the same time so much to write, and no way to write it, I am going to do brief points about highlights from the trip.

My first view of downtown San Francisco was of homeless people and the really pretty G A P store.

I only did two of the four obligatory touristy things there, but that was OK.

We've seen tonnes of animals. Deer (baby deer!), foxes, squirrels, I think I saw a chipmunk today, a raccoon, Canadian Geese and Canadian Goslings, and more that I forget.

Clothing optional beach male:female ratios were very reminiscent of Euro-Trip. 8:1 approx. Awks. Also, we nicknamed incoming naked males dugongs, and incoming naked women rainbows.

Boise was actually lovely. I know I sound surprised, and that's because I was not expecting there to be as much to do there as there was, but it was really good, and I would seriously recommend it.
Also, thank you B.A.D. and Corey. :) You guys are stellar.

I got three dresses for $30.

The weather keeps changing from very hot to not very hot.

There was a car parked poorly in Boise and I wrote a note on it.

I saw the San Andreas fault. IN inACTION!

I went to Two Gentlemen of Verona (for some reason I always want to write that as 'Gentlement').

There are others but I forget. That's one thing that's really frustrating: my handbag isn't big enough for my notebook, so when I'm out during the day and I have a thought that's like "oh, that'll make a good story" or "haha, that's a funny thing" and I want to write it down, I can't, and then when I get home (to the hostel) I forget what it is, and it's terrible. Cool story bro.

Here's a thing I actually want to talk about, inspired by booshoe37.
The word and use of the word 'nice'.

I remember being told by Mr Mahalm in year 4 (or 5...?) that 'nice' is not an acceptable description of something. In fact, if someone used that word, the N word, he would in fact* demand we find another way to say what we were trying to say. While I was never on the receiving end of this, I don't think, I do remember thinking at the time what's wrong with 'nice'? i know what nice means. i think it's fine.
Yes. I thought in lower case. I also used other mediocre words such as 'fine'.

Now, however, how my perceptions have changed!
I noticed over a long period of time, with the final point of utter realisation being when something I was really interested in was said to be 'nice' and I had no idea what that meant. All I can't get out of that is that it wasn't terrible. But if it had been good enough, it's highly likely that the person would have said 'it was amazing', but not certain, so I'm left with no certainty about if it's even good or not! They could have thought it was great and just didn't want to tell me! And then if it was excellent, what made it so good? Or if it wasn't, what made it only average? I know this is one of my rant-y blogs, but as I'm sure you're aware, I have a deep appreciation for the English language (despite my reluctance to proof-read) and 'nice' is a slap in the face to sophisticated language use.

There are so many single words that could describe anything better in any situation more adequately than 'nice'. And simple two words phrases to describe it opens up millions of possibilities. Things like "awkwardly funny" or "unexpectedly moving" or "beautifully spectacular" tell me your impressions, prior expectations, feelings, and actually give me detail, at very little effort more than mumbling out an unimpressed 'nice'.

I could say that all of the places I've been to, and all the experiences I've had have been nice. They all have been. I haven't had anything terrible, but I've had a nice time. And that tells you NOTHING.

There is a whole world of beautiful, amazing, descriptive, apt words for whatever you're trying to say. Don't settle for 'nice'.



*that's another thing that annoys me:
'infact'
Come on guys, it's 'in fact'. Two words.
Also 'a lot' not 'alot' (@ANB).

An edit:

My mum reads my blog. My dad reads my blog. Hello, Mutti. Hello, Vati. Hello, Alex, who is wondering why I'm talking to her parents.
[You always forget, silly ducking duckling.]

Anyway, the point is, my mum reads my blog, and she read that one about my first day of school, and asked me why I hadn't mentioned an element of that story, and I was like "What?! I do not even remember this!"
So here I am, adding part of the story that I neglected to tell, due predominantly, I like to think, to the fact that I
a) was 5 years old
b) have not ever been retold this story
c) have a brain like a sieve

This is the previous from a little while ago post. Right here. HERE.
[Just briefly on this link. First, how hilarious is it that I'm referring you to one of my pages? How egotistical can you get?! This egotistical. Second, just in skimming through posts to find this one, I noticed about 5 typos. I'm going to start proofreading these. I do believe in faries fairies. I do. I do.]

This is such a pathetic ending to a blog post that isn't even a legitimate blog post, because it's just adding something to a previous post BUT here goes.

Now, those among you who know me, or read this, or have seen other things of mine on the internet (which I'm not going to mention specifically, because people from work have started reading this, and I really don't feel like exposing THAT part of my on-line persona to them), will probably have picked up that I'm not what one would describe as cool, socially adjusted, popular, or any of those thingums.
Well, I may not be now, and I may not have been for 99.87% of my life, but that first day of school? That day I told you about?
Yeah. I came home on my first day with a birthday invitation. Hell yeah, bitches. I mean, it's beside the point that Brooke's mum knew there'd be a new girl starting that day and just made the gesture to be nice (it was) when no one knew anything about me. It still counts!
And apparently my brother was really upset*, because he didn't get invited to many parties, and I got an invitation on my first day.
Don't worry. Since then my coolness levels have rapidly (and I mean rapidly) decreased. To nil. Verging on negative.

-----------------------------------------------------------

This is the end of the bloggy. The struckout bits are typos that I correctly. I left them for laffs.





*Have I ever told you about the time my brother was upset when I was born? I was born a girl, and he didn't want a girl, he wanted a George. Not a boy. He wanted a George. I've been a constant disappointment since. But he did get this cool toy, which he called George. And still has. In his room. I'm just saying.

Teh birfdaii.*

Following is a list of gifts I received for my birthday (on the word 'received': did you know that apparently in London, teachers have been told not to teach students the 'i' before 'e' except after 'c' rule because there are too many exceptions? Madness!) and a brief (theoretically) paragraph about them.


A Quidditch broom:
If I see you frequently (or you work with me), you'll be completely aware of the fact that I play Quidditch. However, for the uniformed (I know you read this, Ms Sibbett) I play Quidditch. As a part of my Harry Potter Club. And it is fun and good and awesome exercise and stuff. I honestly haven't been able to play much, simply due to the hours that I work and the times of training, but upon my return from overseas and the commencement of my tertiary education, I will be able to play. So, for my birthday, my mum got me a broom. It's beautiful and lovely and the balance is brilliant, but it does need a bit of a trim. Broom servicing kit, anyone?
Also, I am cool. I promise. I'm really fun and awesome and not at all lame. Very much.

An Edward Cullen Make-up set thing:
JOKE PRESENT. I swear. I think?
I got a call while I was at work from my mum and it went pretty much like this:
Mum: So, Team Edward or Team Jacob?
Me: Um ... why?
Mum: Just which one?
Me: Am I allowed to choose neither?
Mum: No! You have to pick.
Me: Then ... I dunno. I guess Edward? But why??
Mum: No reason!
Me: Tell me!
Andrew: IT RUINS TO JOKE IF WE TELL YOU!
Me: ... OK.
[hang up]
Macro (from work, the eavesdropper): So ... what was that about?
And then I proceeded to awkwardly and embarrassedly tell the story.
Much like now.
The sad thing? The make up's actually not that bad...

A laptop:
Ben and I talked about getting my a laptop for before I went away and we were MEANT to halve it. So the day before my birthday, I sent him a message saying hey let's go laptop shopping, and he was all like 'Not twice in one day!' and I was like 'wahhh?' and he was like 'yeah' and then I got a laptop.

A Jack's Mannequin CD:
From my brothaaa. I have a whole bunch of Jack's Mannequin music, but, much like many of the bands I like, I don't actually own any albums. And I love owning albums. So this was the legitimate present that came after the Edward Cullen make up (though I think we all know I liked Edward Cullen's sexy body the make up more than the CD.) (Also, BAD Adrienne. Edward Cullen is sexy jokes, while theoretically funny because they're true, in actuality, just make people awkward and uncomfortable.)

A Harry Potter Lego Board Game: -- but I nearly wrote Happy Potter, which would also be true because it does make me a Happy. Also a Potter. --
THIS is a fantastic present. Harry Potter, Lego AND board game! Where can you go wrong?! Well, I'll tell you, the board game is where you can go wrong. The board game is where you can go reeeeeaaaaaalllly wrong. It's confusing and weird and odd and a lot of other things, BUT both times I've played, I won, so I'm not complaining too much. :D

Cashhhh:
Not really any stories. It's just pretty sweet.

A poem (accompanied by some earrings and a kinder chocolate, but the poem was my favourite):
(One of ) My greatest, bestiest, loveliest friend(s) [SIDE NOTE: I tried writing friends twice before getting it right, and the two times before that I wrote friday. Just saying.] in the whole world and I used to do this thin when we weren't paying attention in classes where one of us would pick a title, and the other would have to write a poem from that title. We can up with some gems, let me tell you.
Such as this one:

Big Down South


Everything's bigger down south,
down south
Too big to fit in my mouth,
my mouth.

I'll let you take of that what you will.
But from then on, everytime we give a bithday gift or a Christmas gift, we include with it a poem, and Alyce's poem was lovely and I love her. Also, hello. :)

I know there were other gifts, but I forget.
If you'd like to get me a gift in order to be mentioned on my blog, feel free. I guess I can write something about you.



*Legit. That's how I speak now.

A developing theory

I'm of the opinion that everyone should have a theory that they have developed, and in which they firmly believe. I think this can relate to pretty much any aspect of life, the universe and everything, but I think it should be something intelligently constructed and well-presented, so that it can be rationalised, even if others don't necessarily agree with it.

For me, a theory that I've recently started considering is related to relationships. You're worried now, aren't you? This is srs bsnss.

I was watching the Graham Norton Show the other day (don't judge; David Tennant was on it), and one of the guests (not DT) was a comedian who had written a book about relationships, and why you shouldn't be in one. In his words (sort of) "Every relationship is going to end, and the more you love the person now, the worse it's going to be when it does."
I'm sure he put it more eloquently than that, but you get the idea.
That was his theory. Bit dreary, I know.
Mine has to do with relationships, but I think is a bit more positive.

It's important, in a relationship (I am talking here predominantly about romantic relationships, but I think this can apply to some extent to close friendships and such), to have things that you and the other in person involved disagree on. (Also, this isn't my theory. Yet.) Intelligent, and even unintelligent, discussion about differing opinions is important; it opens your mind to new perspectives and new ideas, which you may not agree with, but are nonetheless broadening your figurative horizons. Who knows, you may even learn something. Wouldn't that be terrible? That was a sarcastic AND rhetorical question. Two layers of Please Don't Answer Or You'll Look Like A Fool.

I also think it's important to agree with your partner on some issues, and HERE (finally) is where my theory comes into practice.

I am here to suggest that in order for a relationship to function successfully, both parties must have the same preference be on the same side of the never-ending battle of pirates vs. ninjas.
Yes.
Mind blown, amirite?

I think that not only does this preference give insight into one's character, but it also is a heated debate, dating back thousands of years.
There was actually and 11th Commandment given to Moses, stating that:
Ye Shall Only be Wed to One with Whom Ye Share the Same Values of Character, Manifested Through the Shared Inclination t'ward Either yon Dastardly Pirate or yon Stealthy Ninja.
In fact, earlier than that, there has been evidence of this eternal debate, with cave drawings found dating back to the time of Neanderthals, depicting clans separated by preference.

Thus it can be seen from this undeniable evidence that in order to remain peaceable with a close partner, you must share the same ideas of which is better: the pirate or the ninja.
Because really, how do you plan on raising your children?
What do you say when your 4 year old says
"Daddy, Mummy says pirates are the best and I think they are too"?
[I'd like to take a moment to say that I have, right now, the opportunity to make a very sexist joke, and I'M NOT TAKING IT. Because I'm responsible.]
HOW DO YOU DEAL WITH THAT SITUATION?
I don't know about you, but I don't want to have to explain to your child that their mother is clearly an idiot, for believing something so ridiculously idiotic.

Also, you both have to like dinosaurs.
Don't ever date someone who doesn't like dinosaurs.
Dinosaurs are badass.

Oh, and ninjas. Always ninjas.



...Perhaps I got a bit carried away.

Some thingy things.

You know what's a bad thing?
Blogging when you're tired.

You know what's a badder thing?
Failing to post on the FINAL day of BEDA.

You know what's a baddest thing?
Saying you're going to post on Monday the 1st of May, and then completely and utterly failing to do so, thus disappointing your fervently adoring fans.

You know what's a stupid thing?
Laddergoat. I know you're giggling right now, specific person.

You know what's a trivial thing to me personally and has no bearing on my life?
The Royal Wedding. But she still looked pretty.

You know what's an odd thing?
Osama bin Laden being dead.

You know what was a hilarious thing?
When the well-known and respected channel 7 international correspondent Mike Amor said "Osama bin Laden" instead of "Barrack Obama". Classic.

You know what's a sad thing?
The fact that I leave in only just over a month.

You know what's a nice but slightly overrated thing?
By birthday being on Sunday.

You know what's a crap thing?
My birthday being on Mother's Day.

You know what's an AMAZING thing?!
Sleep. Goodnizzle, ladybumpers.



LAST DAY WHAT I DIDN'T DO BEFORE:
Day 30 - Your favourite song at this time last year:
Yeahh, it was probably the same as my still favourite?
Sic Transit Gloria ... Glory Fades by Brand New.

I though it would end well.
It didn't.

This is the title of the poorly written blog.

End of the month blogging is hard. Seriously, guys. You've completely exhausted my creativity. I would tell you another amusing anecdote, but I haven't one and I've already done that.
I've done a few list-y type posts so I can't really do that again.
I've done my fair share of rants [seriously, those freaking food-related idioms. jerks, the lot of them].

I shall tell you an Adrienne Childhood Story, because the song is asking about childhood things and stuff and things so yeah.

Just after my 6th birthday, I moved to Canberra, from the much fairer (PEOPLE WHO HAVEN'T BEEN THERE SHOULD GO THERE. with me.) Melbourne, Awesome Capital of the World.
I'd known that we were moving for a few terrible months, during which I found not only that, but also that my ahhhhmazing cat Bruce had to be put down.
I really didn't want to move. I was moving away from family, from Courtney, from Cassandra and from some other things, I'm sure, just maybe I can't think of them right now, ok? Is that alright? Good.

So I got here, after eventually realising that my screaming and crying wasn't going to stop anyone (though that certainly didn't stop me from trying), and was most devastated about the fact that I had to go back to Kindergarten. For the uninformed, in Melbourne, Kindergarten is what you do before school; the Canberra equivalent of pre-school, while in Melbourne, Prep is what is here referred to as Kindergarten.
Anyway.
I was totes devo that I had to, in my young mind, go back a grade (even though I didn't really) and I didn't want to go to this stupid new school where I knew no-one, because in case you don't know me, I'm shades of socially awkward you've never even seen before.
So it was my first day in this new, undoubtedly terrible and evil educational institution, Campbell Primary School, and I was crying. I was doing the stereotypical thing and clinging fiercely to my mum's leg while sobbing and whining and complaining and bargaining and everything ever. EVER.
So then, I finally walk (see: got dragged) into my new Kindergarten classroom with Mrs Butler as my teacher and a group of confident 'we're halfway through the year here, and we already know everything about this darn school and you are just a silly, crying new kid' children.
I couldn't even look at them.
At least, I couldn't right up until the point when Mrs Butler asked
"Now, who would like to look after Adrienne for the day?" (I'm not going to lie, she probably didn't say exactly that. Cut me some slack, it was a large, large number of years ago and I was crying and my ears were full of Mum's jeans because my face was buried into her calf.)
At this, I looked up, and got to see nearly every person in the room put up their hand. Well, that's how I remember it anyway. So we'll roll with that.
It was so cool. I was this pathetic new kid who couldn't stop crying and begging her Mum to please please, not make her go, and couldn't they come back and try again another day, and all these kids wanted to chillax with the Age-meister. Yeah, bro.

The conclusion and underlying theme of this story is that while it took me a long, long while after that to actually learn to love Canberra for it's many, many flaws, this was the first step. Its first redeeming feature was a classroom of kids thinking it'd be pretty swell to be my friend.

I am aware I could be reading too much into their enthusiasm but I DON'T CARE. I'm live life on the edge.

Also, the underlying theme here is that if I sit down with nothing to write, eventually some shitty story will present itself, and that's what you'll have to suffer through.

The end.

P.S. probs no blog tomorrow, as I am awayyyyy, so maybe I'll just have to write an epic one for the 1st of May.

Peace out, homebodies.


Day 29 - A song from your childhood:
Ballroom Blitz by The Sweet

Suspended like spirits over speeding cars.

I want to stop feeling so completely lost all of the time.

I know this isn't the hilarious bounty of wit and sophistication you've come to expect from me, but I keep feeling things, and I'm one of those Never Ever Tell Anyone My Feelings Unless It's In A Huge Awkward Fight Where Months Of Pent-Up Emotion Come Pouring Out, and when I feel things, I like to find sentences to express them. And since I can't say them out loud to someone, I right them here. Deal with it? Yeah, k good.



Damn it, how will I ever get out of this labyrinth?


Day 28 - A song that makes you feel guilty:
Like a G6 by Far East Movement

I wish I had more music that made me feel things like Eddplant's music makes me feel things.

 

Late at night and in good company,

we talked of idleness and injury.

Problems and feelings shared,

now more than halved.

The stereo two rooms away repeated song we'd hear again,

and every song became a song about love

You were hesitant and I was naive.

Well, I was adamant and you had to concede. 

We were close,

but not as close as we might have come to be.

One thing led to another as the song always goes,

and we lay there in bed down to the last of our clothes.

And by the way, I tried to say 'I love you".

I held you close and gave you sympathy;

such little thanks for all you did for me.

But mine's a caring heart and yours was broken. 

And by the way, I tried to say 'I love you" 

but the words got jumbled up and I just kissed you again

and it was over before it started

and we parted.

12 wishes on 12 people:

I wish I could tell you all the things that I can't.

I wish you knew how much I wanted to be your friend. Just your friend for ever and ever.

I wish you knew how left behind you make me feel.

I wish you I knew I could trust you with my whole life.

I wish I knew you'd never be gone.

I wish you would stop making me feel so stupid and awkward all the time, and that you could make me feel as valued as I value you.

I wish you felt the same connection I did do.

I wish you didn't pretend to love her.

I wish you would stop underestimating how incredible you are.

I wish you had more faith in me. Just me.

I wish you would leave forever, but your family could stay.

I wish that you were the person you pretend.

But don't climb up too high 'cause I like you fallen.

I need a Hufflepuff to FIND the answer!

So. Question.

The following is a map of the world colour-coded by the side of the road the people in it drive on.

 

Blue is left-hand traffic

Red is right-hand traffic

While I was Skyping with Rita (hello, Rita!) she mentioned the fact that she went to Belgium and Holland, and they drove on the wrong side of the road, by which she meant the right side of the road.

My question, which Wikipedia just unsuccessfully attempted to answer for me, is what happens at the border where you have to change sides.

Wikipedia just treated me like an idiot, saying "What the hell are you talking about? You just, like, swap over you freaking fool." ... Though in retrospect, I may have paraphrased it slightly ... But that's okay!

Sooooo, basically all Wikipedia could tell me was that at the border of relevant countries, the cars just swapped.

BUT HOW DOES THAT WORK?!

Surely you can't just swerve into the other lane and retain some semblance of responsible, safe driving! Is there a stop-over point? Transition point? I don't even know!

This was just something that was puzzling me so I though that considering there are people who read this from overseas, and considering that I found it hilariously perplexing, I'd ask y'all.

I'm trying to picture what a whole bunch of cars just changing side would look like. And what if you just missed the sign and kept driving on what had just become the wrong side of the road? How flipping scary would it be when I saw other cars on the same side of the road as you, hurtling towards you?!

And the other facet of this mysterious equation is: what side of the car does the wheel go on?!

I know it's not unheard of to have a right-hand driving car in a left-hand driving country like Australia, but surely it would be something that's weirdly common in the countries with borders on countries that drive on a different side?

Anway. That was just a thing that I was thinking and I wanted to share it with you because that's what this is and if you don't like it then talk to Alyce because she smiles and when I mention camels she giggles and gets a tiny bit breathless which just makes me love her and love her because she knows me and if you don't like it then you can talk to Alyce because -- what?

Oh.

Goodnight.

Day 27 - A song that you wish you could play:

Granger Danger by Starkid

dusk --

i wish the whole day was made of moments of dusk
my breath is clear and the air is a million million colours,
darkening by the moment
the short seconds minutes hours between the glare of day
and the cover of night
where everything is crisp and clear and wonderful
dusk connects us.
the day is rain somewhere and shine elsewhere
but dusk feels the same everywhere, all the places
refreshing air biting your skin
thoughts coming clearly to your brain
the promise of the night and the day
i wish my whole life was made of moments of dusk







Day 26 - A song that you can play on an instrument:
Smoke on the Water by Deep Purple :P
Also, Semi-Charmed life by Third Eye Blind
On drums and guitar not respectively.