Everything's Better With A Police Escort

Remember when you were a kid, in primary school, and a police officer came in to your school to teach you about what police officers do? Police are there to help you, you can trust them, all that business? Well, what I remember most about that talk is the big, strapping man informing us that we are never, under any circumstances, ever to touch a police officer's gun. And from that moment on, every single time I saw a uniformed police officer, I have wanted to touch their gun. It is, in fact, an item on my bucket list.

For a brief period I considered becoming a cop myself. It was a brief period. As anyone who has ever employed me, lived with me, dated me, or possibly had any interaction with me, can attest, I am not one for following the chain of command. There is, at least within the BDSM community, a term for people like me: topping from the bottom. I discovered this term last year when one of the women at my uni was giving a talk on her experiences researching a BDSM community. Someone asked about bottoms who are not willing to relinquish control to their tops, and when she informed us of the term for this, Gary, the man who is solely responsible for my Australian invasion turned to me and said "Yes, we see that with some students, don't we?" It has become an ongoing joke between us. Well, maybe not a joke, but a reality over which we can share a chuckle.

I considered becoming a criminologist (whatever that is) for a longer period of time. I developed an obsession with serial killers and could often be found haunting the 'True Crime' section at bookshops. I showed up for my first day of orientation at uni completely convinced that criminology was what I would be doing with my life. And I left my first day of orientation completely convinced that it would not be what I would be doing with my life. On that day I chose a different path, and I've never looked back.

But the police force remained a point of intrigue for me. I like to understand how things work, especially social things (that's why I am now a sociologist, whatever that is), and I always wanted to get an inside understanding of how the police force works. I mean, they are the ones who are responsible for upholding whatever values it is us academic types decree should be upheld. How could you not be fascinated by this?

Unfortunately, my life hasn't really involved all that much interaction with the police (on duty police, anyways). And when it has, it's been largely dismissive, which I now know is because of an intense professional loathing of paperwork, something I can very much relate to. When it comes to filling out forms, I have severe academic syndrome: "What does this mean when it asks for my address?", "Which social construct do you want me to use to describe my pain level?", "None of these tick-box options reflect my response to this question, is there someone I can speak to about the inadequacy of your forms?"

I've only actually been inside a police station twice: once when I found a pager on the street outside of the police station and bringing it into the station seemed like a sensible thing to do, and once to file a police report when my bag was stolen. Though, the best prank I ever pulled did involve me and another guy pretending to have been arrested for not having the money to cover our bar tab in order to get back at a third guy for not leaving enough money to cover his share of the tab (we won't get into the fact that I was covering exactly $0 of this rather hefty bar tab).

Obviously, meeting Lady Cop was like discovering my own personal gold mine. I think I managed to keep my cool about just how awesome I thought it was to have a cop in my life, at least until the other day when she came by my office whilst on duty. Back when we were dating she had promised to pop in to see me the next time she had work to do in the city. So when she informed me that she would be coming into the city this week, I held her to her promise!

As the day approached, we joked about her coming in and interrogating me. As I thoroughly enjoy giving people the wrong impression about me, I was really looking forward to giving my colleagues something to be concerned with. The only problem is, neither of us are particularly good at keeping a straight face when we're playing a joke on someone; though she is infinitely worse than me. So when a helpful woman from down the hall directed Lady Cop into my office and I smiled and said, "What can I do for you constable?" She just said, "Nah, can't do it." SO DISAPPOINTING! And I was really looking forward to heatedly calling her 'cuntstable'. Oh well, there's always every other day.

Fortunately, the rest of her visit proved to be entirely awesome. My favourite part was when Gary happened past my office as we were talking. The look of concern and alarm on his face definitely made up for LC's inability to carry out our little joke. So after she inspected my office, violated my fish, and refused my offer of a beer, she took me for a spin around the block in her police car! I sat in the front, and still people were looking into the car going "Who is that criminal?" Suddenly cars that would zoom through the pedestrian crossing outside my office were stopping, as were pedestrians as we tried to turn the corner. We went into my favourite lunch place, which was filled with construction workers. And while I was beaming from ear to ear to be getting a police escort to lunch, she was looking around nervously and saying, "You know that most people don't like the police right?"

We sat in her police car outside the front of my building for a bit, chatting and testing out her handcuffs. She waved her OC spray at me and pretended to yell at me whenever someone walked past the car. Several people from my uni walked past, though I'm not sure if any of them realized it was me in the cop car. Oh well! That's why I got pictures!

It was a good play date!

**Edit: Gary just popped by my office to inform me he thought I was being arrested for shoplifting. What a mundane crime to be suspected of! Although, perhaps he figured I was shoplifting because I am a poor student and will therefore let me work for him again??

Happy Oziversary!

Can you believe it? It's 3 years ago today that I rocked up on Australia's shores. Three years! I can hardly believe it. It doesn't feel like it's been three years. That's the longest I've lived anywhere in the past 8 years.

I remember my first day in Melbourne as if it was yesterday. The weather was much better than it is today. It was hot! I got off the plane from Korea (via Singapore) in my winter coat and thought I was going to die it was so hot! And I had like 8 bags. The university airport transportation people had to put me in a van of my own. I had made arrangements to stay in student accommodations at a hotel on Bell St in Preston. It was a long ways from everywhere and I spent my first day sorting through my luggage, getting my internet set up, and figuring out where the heck I was so that I could figure out where the heck I needed to go. Good times.

It wasn't long after I arrived here that I came to the conclusion I wanted to stay. There's been little question in my mind over the past three years that Melbourne is the place I want to call home on a permanent basis. But lately I am starting to question that. I still love Melbourne very, very much, and I can't think of anywhere else that I'd want to call home, but... I haven't been everywhere else.

Before I moved to Australia, I travelled pretty voraciously; Africa, Asia, the Americas, Europe... But once I got to Australia, the travelling pretty much stopped. A trip to Queensland, a couple trips to Hawaii, and a trip back to Calgary have been it for me. For some people this may seem like a lot; but for me, it's remarkably not. For the most part, this has been because I'm poor. I don't have the money to take off on a trip to Sri Lanka, no matter how cheap the airfare gets. But another part of it is that I needed a break, especially since most of the travelling I did was on my own. After visiting an old, dear friend in Korea, and having such an amazing time getting to travel with someone, my motivation to make those little trips I'd normally take on my own - finances be damned - was hard to summon up.

Lately though, I've been getting itchy feet. This year I am faced with the reality that I will not be a student for the rest of my life, and given that I am living in Australia on a student visa, that means my future is pretty wide open. I've always said the plan is to stay on in Australia (and specifically in Melbourne) and get my permanent residency. That hasn't exactly changed (and no, there is absolutely no way that I will be moving back to Canada), it's more that I no longer have that intense desire to just stay put. Maybe I don't want to live in Australia forever. But I need somewhere to call home and I'd still it rather be Melbourne than anywhere else. Just maybe not forever and ever.

When I was in Hawaii I found myself thinking "I could live in the states, if I knew it was temporary and that I would then be returning to Australia." And since I've been back from Hawaii, I've been missing the vibe of being on an island that comes from being on an island that doesn't also double as a continent. It's true that I've made a good life for myself here in Melbourne, but I've become really aware of the fact that sooner rather than later the circumstances that form the foundation of this life (my PhD) will change. There's gonna be an earthquake, and I have no idea if it will be big or small.

Three years after moving here, I find that I am ready for a change. I don't know what I'll do when I finish my PhD, but I'm a firm believer that if you keep your eyes peeled, opportunities will come around that can lead you to some pretty unexpected places. That is, after all, how I ended up here in the first place.

Ain't Nothin' But a G Thang

At the start of 2010 I decided that it would be a fun idea to get a year's weekend subscription to The Age. As I'm a student, I was able to do this for quite cheap. I'm not the kind of person who sits down and reads the paper over the weekend, so it wasn't long before I had amassed a person sized pile of unread news papers. The weekend subscription was not a good idea! I comforted myself, saying that it wasn't a full year's subscription; it would only last for the school year. But then the school year ended and the papers kept coming! What was I to do?

At first I tried to ignore them, telling myself that someone else in my apartment block must have gotten tired of stealing my newspaper and had decided to get a subscription of their own. I was able to delude myself with this for a few weeks, but then I had to face facts: my subscription has not run out. You know the saying, "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em."

By this time I was much jaded about the quality of content in these papers, so now when they come I open them up in front of our recycling bins and immediately chuck all the sections I am never going to bother with. Basically, this leaves me with the Arts and Lifestyle sections (both of which I merely skim). My flatmate enjoys having these parts of the paper around because it gives her something to read when she's got 10 minutes to kill before heading off for a social engagement, and I like to cut articles out so I can pretend to myself that this is the kind of life that I am living. And so the pile of newspaper slowly starts it's growth to person-sized yet again.

Snark though I might, I must admit that sometimes the A2 is littered with awesomeness, as it was a couple of weekends ago (though today it was littered with cockroach). That paper a couple weeks ago had reviews of shops that I've been meaning to go to for over a year, a controversial piece on Midsumma, and an article explaining new fads in games. Now, I love playing games. My domino's set is one of my most cherished possessions, and my flatmate and I frequently spend the evening battling it out over the Scrabble board (she beats me every time, but I'll get her yet!) My previous flatmate and I had a few good rounds of Monopoly (we were much more evenly matched at that). Plus, the day I whooped Lady Cop's ass at Battleship will always be a treasured memory. So I was pretty psyched to read about what these new game fads were.

Of the five trends the article described, I can't say as I find much appeal in Cos Play or 'No Lights, No Lyrca'. But I definitely want to check out Settlers of Catan and geocaching. Secretly I am a total geography nerd and I dream of being one of those retirees who occupy their time and money scouring the globe to find their next geocach. I'd totally do it now, but it's definitely an activity that requires a car. So much like Goldie Locks, I came to the last fad and found that it was just right!

Secret Wars is really more of a spectator sport than a game, but I won't hold that against the article that informed me of it's existence. Basically, it's a draw off between two artists, generally of the graffiti genre. The idea is that each artist draws a picture of something awful happening to their competitor, and the best picture wins. When I read that, I was immediately hooked. After all, that is pretty much what I did with one of my friends for all of Chem 30 and the second half of grade 12....

It started off as my friend trying to slag me off, and soon turned into an elaborate story line about two super villains vying for domination over each other. We took turns drawing comic strips whereby we would do something horrible to each other in order to claim victory. Once we had completed our strip, we'd hand it over to the other who would then attempt to exact even more extravagant revenge. To this day I am convinced this has been the best use of my creative talents, ever. At no point is my PhD going to involve me and David Bowie running over our enemies with trains.

Unfortunately, my friend lost the first page of the comic (I'm sure she remembers this differently, but I don't lose anything, ever, so as far as I'm concerned any other explanation violates the laws of physics). I still have the second page, but it doesn't make a whole lot of sense, and by that point our storyline was wearing pretty thin. I have produced a few solo venture comics since then, all as gifts for other people. The next time I decide to break out my mad stickman drawing skillz I'll be sure to keep a copy of my work for myself!!

Upon reading the description of this Secret Wars phenomenon, I discovered that the next event was only a week away. After checking out ticket prices, I fired off an email to Lady Cop, who I knew would be just as excited about this as I was. We booked our tickets and off we went!

If I had to sum up the event in two words, I was say it was "pure awesome!" It was set at Thousand Pound Bend, which really lent itself perfectly for this type of event. The DJ was phenomenal! He kept the hip hop pumping all through the night, which left me turning to LC every other song going "OMG! I love this song and I haven't heard it in years!" I'd forgotten how much good hip hop came out in the early 2000's. And anyone who doesn't love hip hop from the 90's probably doesn't have a soul. But let's not forget about the artists, both of whom were very talented and put on a great competition.

This event was the first round of the semi-finals and saw Scale face off against Pierre Lloga. They had 90 minutes to produce their work, using only black ink/paint on white.

That's Scale starting off picture. It was really interesting watching each artist's vision come to life right before our eyes. You've got no clue of what the end result will be when it starts out, and these two artists had quite different styles, so their works came together in very different ways.

At the start of the competition I was cheering for Pierre because I preferred his artistic style over Scale's. But I did have to admit that I thought Scale's concept was more interesting. Scale had Pierre locked up in an asylum, restrained in a straight jacket, whereas Pierre had Scale being chased by a crazy chainsaw murderer.

About half way through the competition Scale won over my support... by drawing Hello Kitty on the cell wall. I mean, you just can't compete with Hello Kitty. I also really liked that his concept was looking in on Pierre through a security camera in his asylum cell.

It was a close competition the whole way through though, with crowd support seeming to be favouring Pierre. Several times the MC came out to get us to cheer for our preferred artist, and to throw out prizes to whomever could be the most obnoxious in the crowd (it goes without saying that LC got a shirt).

As the competition came to a close, we counted the artists down to when they had to step away from the canvas. Both completed works were very impressive and involved quite a good effort at getting down to the nitty gritty details. It was obvious why they were both battling it out in the semi-finals! But it was up to the judges to decide who the winner would be...

The judges were unanimous: Scale was moving on to the next round! The crowd support remained strong for both artists, but Pierre's supporters cheered the loudest, giving him the accolade of crowd favourite. Both artists made an amazing effort and provided us with a very entertaining and enjoyable evening. LC and I are hoping to make it to the next round of the semi-finals and the grand final.

Here's the artists' finished works, decide for yourself who you think should have moved on to the next round:

Like I said, pure awesome! It certainly makes me want to break out the pencil crayons and get those pseudo-artistic juices flowing. But for the time being, my pencil crayons are strictly engaged in colour coding my data. One day I'll get back to my true talent of drawing stickman comics, one day.

To Jupiter, With Love

As I was watching Eat, Pray, Love on my flight back from Honolulu, I realized that this year is my Eat, Pray, Love year (and yes, I think that's an incredibly wanky thing to say). I am not goarging myself on food from any ethnicity, nor traveling to exotic locales, nor taking a particularly spiritual journey. What I am doing is focusing on me, me, and me this year. So perhaps it's my Exercise, Study, Dare year. My goals this year are to get fit, finish my PhD, and constantly challenge myself. Thus far, I am succeeding in all areas.

In the book, Love is really a central part of her whole journey. Likewise, challenging myself is really a central part of mine. I am pushing myself physically every day and challenging myself to change my eating habits. I am setting small, structured goals for myself with my PhD and this is keeping me accountable to the work I have to do, which in turn is getting done. And I am spending my downtime searching out opportunities to, metaphorically, fall off the horse some more. I want to spend my time doing new things and having awesome experiences. So that is the challenge I have set myself.

Midsumma, Melbourne's LGBT festival, is on right now, though it comes to a close tomorrow. There are heaps of different events put on in Midsumma; something for everyone, and heaps of cheese. I figure the best way to enjoy Midsumma is to go to an event that looks like it will either be completely terrible or completely awesome, depending on if the host can actually pull it off.

This year I picked Sci-Fi Speed Dating. I have no intention of getting into another relationship anytime soon, but I am interested in making new friends and it sounded like a fun way to meet new people. And while I'm not a hardcore sci-fi fan, I am a fan.

I had tried speed dating once before, many, many, many years ago, and it had been a total flop. There weren't enough people, the conversations were awkward, and I told one of my dates my Tanzania Truck Stop story (which, like any good story, is about poo). Let's just say my expectations for Sci-Fi Speed Dating were low.

When I arrived at the venue I was greeted by a sea of men. Not a good sign! But as I got a bit further in and started to look around I noticed that there was at least a handful of women there. Women with more than a few years on me, but still. I wouldn't be talking to myself all night. As the queue progressed to the registration desk I noticed that they were taking pictures of everyone. It turns out there is quite an elaborate system to this speed dating business when you've got more than 4 people involved! Along with getting your picture taken, you got assigned a number... and a complimentary drink. I gulped my drink down pretty fast as I started to realize I was soon going to have to make time pressured conversation with a bunch of total strangers.

Once everyone had been checked in, the women were separated from the men and both groups got sorted for our rounds of speed dating. There ended up being about 13 women, which was a pretty decent number. It at least gave us the chance to talk to everyone, which there was no hope of the guys being able to do. After a fair bit of organising chaos, the music started and we were off!

My first date was... awkward. I'm pretty sure we both took one look at each other and realized we weren't going to like each other, so it was just a matter of getting through a few minutes together. All I'll say is at least I tried! Though, in retrospect, given that we were at a sci-fi themed event, perhaps attempted conversation about science fiction would have been a better tactic. Oh well!

The evening improved from there. The rest of my dates were all perfectly able to hold up their end of a conversation, sci-fi themed or not. Even still, sometimes we'd just be getting into an interesting conversation when the music would start up again, other times when the music started it was like "oh thank god!" Somehow I don't think I'll be making use of the services of the woman who called me American then told me she's a psychic.

Because we were a small group, half way through we got to switch things up so that those who had stayed put and those who had moved around could go on dates with each other. After a good deal of confusion, we more or less took matters into our own hands and continued on with our dates.

By the end of the night, I had had a fair few awkward conversations, and some good reminders that just because someone looks interesting doesn't mean they will be. But I had also had some really nice conversations, and when the dates wrapped up quite a few of us stuck around and continued chatting for a bit. Our host, who I must say really did do an amazing job, came around with a prize bag and we all got to grab a prize. I got this gripper thing that I was having a great deal of fun with. One of the women was keen for us to all get together again, so we handed over our email addresses to her and now there are attempts at some sort of social gathering in the works.

One of the women actually lives quite near me, so we decided to take the tram home together. Our fearless organizer offered to give us a lift back into the city so we didn't have to catch multiple trams to get home, which was awesome! Unfortunately, I lost the gripper somewhere on my way home, either in the back of her car or at the bar. I hope that wherever it has gone, it has found a loving home.

All in all, the night was a success! I had a good time and met some cool new people that I look forward to catching up with again. It was fun because there was so little time to have a conversation with someone that it kinda took the pressure off. And I made it through the evening without resorting to my Tanzania Truck Stop story. It is definitely an experience that I would (and will) repeat.

Riding Off Into The Sunset

And so we come, as we inevitably must, to the end of my Hawaiian adventure. Good times were had, memories were made, revelations were had, along with some shots of tequila and whiskey. But before I board that plane, I've still got a full day of fun to have!

In the morning the parents drove Maya and I to the north of the island where we got booted and suited up, then saddled up for some mountain horseback riding.

I hadn't been on a horse in about 7 years, so I was pretty excited to be getting back in the saddle. Though, I wasn't too sure how I'd feel about it after I got out of the saddle and onto an airplane for a day...

Maya got to ride on a lovely mare called Miley, and I, well I got Billy. Billy had other ideas about how he wanted to be spending his day, and it certainly didn't involve going on another goddamn trail ride!

Off we set into the lushious green hills, Billy at a crawling pace, grabbing mouthfuls of grass at every possible opportunity, despite my best efforts to stop him. So far this ride was exactly how I remember it from my old horse Ryann: stubborn horse that doesn't want to do what you're telling it to do, and a sense of assignation to said horse. Billy even looked like Ryann! The only real difference was this time I was closer to the ground.

We were riding through a privately owned farm, and at one point we had to stop so that some horses could be moved from one paddock to another. The horses were herded by use of a truck, and we even got to see the owner riding around on one of those 4-wheel ATV things with her two dogs standing on the back.

The ride went on pretty smoothly, and at various times Billy did actually pick up the pace. This was usually because our guide came riding up behind him making to whip him, but still. Maya and I were both having a great time, taking in the beautiful scenery and laughing into the rather intense wind.

Then we came to a steepish hill, and Billy just stopped. He wasn't moving for anything. And as I sat there, watching everyone else pick their way down the hill while I tried to get Billy to budge, I suddenly found myself straddling his side instead of his back. My saddle had slipped. "I'm falling!!!" I yelled out, which, got the guide's attention pretty fast. He turned around and came back for me, and I, faced with the possibility of hanging upside down under Billy's legs, or falling onto the rocky grass, did a rather graceful backwards soumersault out of the saddle and onto the ground. Our guide was very relieved that I was both fine and in good spirits. As I told him, I'm used to falling off a much bigger horse.

He got Billy's saddle back up and on, nice and tight, and then helped me get back on. This time, though still reluctantly, Billy didn't refuse to move. Billy and I actually got on much better after my tumble. I think having the saddle on properly put him at ease, and the fact that he stopped to make sure my fall was as safe as possible made me a lot more trusting of his judgement. From then on in it was smooth, but slow, sailing.

There were four of us on this ride, plus the guide, and everyone had at least some riding experience. So when Maya asked if we could go back to the ranch via this huge hill, our guide was quite happy to take us on that detour. Billy was less happy about it and refused to go as far up the hill as everyone else had gone. Much to my surprise, when the ranch did come into view he didn't suddenly pick up the pace and start running back. Perhaps he was just a really Hawaiian horse.

When we got back to the ranch and went into the paddock, Maya suddenly turned into Dr. Doolittle: all the horses were following her.

Well, OK, they were following Miley back. But still, it was pretty cute! We got off our horses and said our goodbyes. Then we pulled ourselves out of our boots and jackets and waited for the parents to come pick us up. They arrived with snacks, and pretty quickly Maya and I were devouring a box of goldfish crackers.

My flight wasn't until the evening, so we still had some time that afternoon to hit up the beach one last time. We decided to just go to the one nearest our condo as we didn't want to over estimate how much time we had. It was really nice to get to take one last dip in the ocean before I flew off. I was especially glad I could stretch out in the water after our ride!

After the beach it was back to the condo where I jumped in the shower, then finished packing, then loaded up the llama with my now bulging suitcase to take to the van. We made a pit stop at the shops near us so I could buy a pair of shoes I fancied. This ended up being more of a pit stop than I'd anticipated, so Dad sent the boys off to get themselves some ice cream. Initially I said no to getting some for myself, but when I went over to meet them, I soon found myself with a massive cone of chocolate ice cream with Reece's Pieces and coconut. I, I don't know how that happened...

We drove into Kona and I juggled eating my massive ice cream with getting as many pictures loaded up onto my computer as I could before my battery died. Which it did pretty much as soon as we got to the airport. Once I was checked in to my flight to Honolulu we hit the van and headed for dinner. At Denny's. Where they were out of veggie burgers and the weird Denny's waiter attempted to flirt with me.

Saying our goodbyes at the airport was epic. There were tears, and hugs, and one more hug hugs, and more one more hug hugs, and more tears. I tried to crack a joke by going "See you in a week!" because I thought it would be funny if we were having this ridiculously emotional goodbye and I was going to see them again really soon. But no one got the joke. Oh well! I think I'm hilarious and I'm pretty sure that's all that matters.

Eventually I made it through the security check point and the rest of the family headed off while I boarded my flight and flew off into the sunset. It was just about to be a really uneventful flight when I noticed that we were circling over Honolulu instead of landing. Our captain informed us that the Honolulu airport was currently shut down for all air traffic as President Obama was boarding Air Force One. So, I practically met the President.

We circled and circled and circled some more. Then the captain informed us we were running out of fuel and as Mr. Obama had not yet actually gotten on to his stinking plane, we would be turning around and flying into Maui so that we could refuel. We got about half way to Maui when the captain announced that Air Force One had achieved take off and Honolulu was once again open for air traffic. So we turned around again and finally landed in Honolulu.

My flight to Sydney wasn't until the morning, so I spent the night at an airport hotel. It was quite late by the time I finally got in to Honolulu and I had to leave at like 5:30am or something ridiculous for my flight to Sydney, so it was pretty much straight to bed for me when I got to the hotel. I didn't even get to enjoy their breakfast buffet, as it didn't open until 6am. I was happy to discover that Starbucks sells oatmeal, especially since I was flying on JetStar, where I paid $5US for a small package of cheese and crackers.

I found the flight to Sydney perfectly fine, but heaps of other people did not share my opinion. Their rental in-flight entertainment units were pretty much all broken, so only people who had pre-booked and had children got one. I had already decided that my in-flight entertainment would be a book, so when I got a free pair of headphones so I could watch the movies they were screening, it was a bonus. I watched Eat, Pray, Love, which hardly made any sense and definitely wouldn't have made a lick of sense if you hadn't read the book.

At any rate, after a long day of flying, I made it back home to Melbourne. I flew into Avalon, which is pretty much in Geelong... and made me realize why people sometimes give me funny looks when I say I barrack for the Cats. Well, one of the reasons. WHATEVER DUDES!

It was nice to get home and get to sleep in my own bed again. I was sad that the vacation had come to an end, but I also felt energized and ready to take on the challenges of 2011. And when I went to see my chiropractor, even he thought I was looking a world better than I had at the end of the year.

So what lesson have I learnt for 2011? Fall off a horse more often.