Kissing Sydney

Have you ever met someone and just clicked with them, forming a friendship before you even really know much of anything about one another? I've made a heap of friends like that recently. It may seem like the kind of connection that is superficial and won't last, but when you click with someone so easily, maintaining a friendship with them is really quite easy. Case in point, my friend T. We met 7.5 years ago when we were both studying in Amsterdam and have stayed in touch over the years. In one of those funny coincidences that make me think the world is not such a big place, she moved to Sydney not all that long after I moved to Melbourne. As I never seem to travel anymore, we try to catch up whenever she's in Melbourne. When she was down in November, she invited me to come up to Sydney for Mardi Gras and stay with her. I booked my flight the next day.

On New Years Eve I declared 2012 the kissing year and was issued a challenge to kiss 52 girls in 52 weeks. This was turning out to be easier said than done. By the beginning of February I hadn't kissed anyone; not even hubby! One night I was out at a queer club with Trouble and she made a comment about how it was obvious we weren't together as we were both checking everyone else out. So I grabbed her and pashed her and declared it a date (a running joke between us). The kissing picked up from there, but still, when March rolled around I'd only reached 4/52. Drastic actions were needed if I was ever going to reach my goal! And I knew just the thing...

T was marching in the parade with Scarlet Alliance and Gender Agenda, promoting sex worker rights; something that I am very much in favour of. She invited me to march with them, but initially I decided to be a big lameypants and said I wanted to just watch the parade this year as I'd never seen it before. But we went out for dinner with some of her friends on Friday and they informed me that when you march in the parade you spend several hours in this holding area where everyone lines up and it's a big ass party. Quite frankly, that sounded like a helluva lot more fun than standing around on some street corner all night. So I marched! And boy am I ever glad that I did!! In that one night I managed to pash 31 girls; all but 3 of whom were a direct result of my marching in the parade.

Having decided to march, I of course needed something outrageous to wear. Our group had a decriminalise sex work theme, so some people were wearing orange jumpsuits and shackles, some were dressed as sexy cops, and everyone else was dressed in red. And then there was me...

The outfit certainly got me lots of attention, especially the eyelashes! Girls kept stopping me and asking to take a picture with me, to which I replied "Sure, but it will cost you a kiss." Most of those kisses were really conservative ones - on the cheek or a peck on the lips - and did not count as part of my tally. Had they, my total of girls kissed would be significantly higher. That pre-parade area was insane! For awhile there it was like everywhere I turned I was kissing someone.

But it wasn't all about the kissing. I met heaps of lovely people who would just come over and have a friendly chat. My favourite non pashed randoms that I met were the Snow Queen and King (both women, obviously) who I met in a queue for the loo. It was absolutely pissing down rain and they were both standing under a massive umbrella, so I stood under it with them and we struck up a friendly conversation. They were marching with the Jews, and had I been Jewish I apparently would have made excellent marriage material (no, I did not tell them that I'm both anti-religion and anti-marriage).

We were in the pre-parade holding area for at least 3 hours before we started marching (possibly longer as we were bringing up the rear) and it was pouring rain. We were marching with red umbrellas, which was fortunate, but I still got completely drenched. And you know, since I was wearing a white t-shirt that had been completely soaked through, the only sensible thing to do really was to ditch the bra... And of course, after mixing champagne and vodka, the next logical move was to flash the drag kings...

My strategy for kissing girls was basically to run up to anyone who looked kissable and made eye contact with me for more than 5 seconds and pash them. It made the march super fun! Sometimes women were screaming from the sidelines for me to come over and kiss them. It was awesome!!
After the parade we went to a party at the Red Rattler called Oi!! Monsta Gras. That people would be dressed up like monsters had not even crossed my mind, so when I walked in, I was blown away by all the amazing costumes. And, like any good queer party, I ran into people I knew and a couple gay guys fell in love with me. It was a pretty awesome party. I mean, I was grinding with The Hulk and I pashed a unicorn! But more on that later.

As the night went on, it got harder and harder for me to find girls to pash. This seemed counter intuitive; usually as the night goes on, lips get looser. But then I saw myself in the mirror and suddenly I understood why!

We made it home at about 4am, which, given T lives in Manly, was about 3 hours earlier than I actually had expected to be home by. And, true to form, I woke up at 7am the next morning. And by next I mean same. There was nothing for it but to go wander down to the beach, get some Ben and Jerry's for breakfast, grab a coffee and get a pedicure. I know, it's a rough life!


Well, I'm sure you're all dying to get the goss on these 31 girls that I pashed. There is no way that I could possibly recall them all - like I said, it was a lot of me running into the crowd, making out with random people, then running back - but I can give you a Greatest Hits summary!

#5: The Boys
Yeah, yeah, yeah, they weren't meant to count BUT it was Mardi Gras and everyone's a little bit queer anyways, right? Both the boys I pashed were marching with us... as were several of the girls, but I'll get to that! After some random pashing in the pre-parade area I was complaining about how conservatively people were kissing me, and a guy from the Australian Sex Party offered to give me a real kiss - the kind you see naval officers give their girlfriends when they return home for shore leave. That didn't count at first, but after the third time I figured he could be an honorary girl. Same with the pirate. Goodness he was gorgeous! Tall, dark and handsome in an effeminate way, and totally straight. And very confused as to why I - as a lesbian - was giving him a free pass to kiss me. Desire is a funny thing and kissing is a lot of fun! There's no need for it to be anything more.

#4: The Unicorn
At the after party, I had wandered up to a couple of girls on the dance floor and was trying to convince one of them - or probably all of them - to pash me. I recall that I was focused on the one who was not dressed up as anything, who then informed me that while she wasn't going to pash me, her friend - the unicorn - would be most happy to oblige. I looked at her friend and said "I've never pashed a unicorn before." To which she shrugged and gave me a kiss, with just a bit of sneaky tongue. I didn't realize it was sneaky tongue until after we stopped kissing and this blue haired woman was staring at us going WTF?! I am interested in many things; causing lesbian drama is not one of them! I gave her friend shit and apologised to the girlfriend and walked away. Still, I figured pashing a unicorn has got to be good luck...

#3: The $20 Kiss
This was just beyond outrageous! One of T's friends said that she'd help me with my pashing numbers but couldn't because she's in a relationship. Fair enough. But then, as the night went on, they came to an agreement that she could kiss me if I paid her $20 for it. I was just like "Dude, you're barking up the wrong tree if you think I'm going to pay $20 for a kiss!" She kept going on about how amazing a kisser she is and how at a loss I was, and I was not budging about the money, so we were at a stalemate. But then! T, highly amused by the whole situation, bought me a $20 kiss with her friend!!! It was... a very vigorous kiss. Personally, I like tongue to be more hinted at than made explicit. We felt differently about this. The bite at the end was pretty hot though.

#2: Special Guest Appearance
I have another friend who is from Melbourne but has moved to Sydney and I was hoping to catch up with her over the weekend. I called her up and let her know I'd be marching in the parade and she said she'd be my cheer squad. We both had plans to go to the same party after the parade, so I figured I'd see her there. I tried to keep an eye out for her during the parade, but I figured I must have missed her. Then, all of a sudden, as I was just walking along, pulling our suitcase and having a break from the pashing, she jumped the barrier, ran into the parade, and pashed me! It was pretty hot! Given that was all I ended up seeing of her during my trip, I'd say we made the most of our time!

#1: The Mardi Gras Miracle
So as I said before, I pashed a few of the people who were marching with us. There was this one girl who I had seen before we left the Scarlett Alliance office that I thought was pretty cute and was a bit shy to go up to (I am a lot more forward with people when I know all I want is a kiss). As we were waiting for the parade to start we were sitting on the sidewalk, in the ran, having a chat and I told her about my kissing challenge. She said "Well, I'll pash you." And we proceeded to have a very nice kiss that left us both smiling. We resumed our conversation and discovered that we were both planning on going to the same after party. Then I got a call from T and I had to run off and try to find her. As the evening progressed, I still had this kiss on my mind. So when we returned to actually get lined up to march, I went up to her and pashed her again. She informed me that if I was to continue doing that it would really make her night. Unfortunately, I was being a bit too in the moment and that was the last I saw of her! I had not even thought to exchange numbers to ensure we were able to meet up later. This did not play too heavily on my mind on the Saturday, but come Sunday, I had regret!

Sunday afternoon there were various post Mardi Gras parties happening around the city. T and I made plans to meet up with some of her friends at a party in Newtown. We were all pretty exhausted and even though the party was pumping, the rain was still pouring down, and the dance floor was outside. So we decided to head off and get some food and hope that the rain would let up. It did, and we returned, but none of us were really all that keen to stay. So we decided to have one drink and hit the dance floor and then head off. I was dancing away when a familiar face walked past - one of the guys who had been marching with us, and was friends with the girl I had pashed! At first I just smiled at him, but then the logical part of my brain gave me a thunk and I asked him if he could either give me this girl's number or give her mine. He gave me her's and I promptly sent her a text. We weren't able to meet up again whilst I was in Sydney, but she has plans to come down to Melbourne, and I have a date! You see? Pashing a unicorn is good luck!!

Queer Aesthetics

You know when you're trying to write about one thing, but you've got something else boiling under your skin? Yeah, that's what's happening with me at the moment. I'm trying to finish my final data chapter (!!!) but there's something else that is on my mind: aesthetics - and particularly lesbian/queer aesthetics.

This has been something I've been pondering for awhile, especially over the last six months, as I've come to the end of (or rather a pause in) a massive physical transformation and have been quite actively exploring what it means for me to be single and gay, and where I situate myself within the queer community.

To contextualise this: I only realised I was gay about 2 years ago, after breaking up with my first girlfriend. Since then, I have lost around 30kg. This was the result of a very intensive campaign to get fit and improve my health; it was never about being thin (something I have no desire to be). I have talked about my weight loss a lot on this blog, and I don't want to get into it again here. All that needs to be said about it here is that I reached a point where I was happy with my body, sick of spending all my time exercising, and annoyed that my clothes never fit me for more than a couple of months (that's all well and good when you can afford to buy new ones; I can't!); so my body transformation project has been put on the back burner for the time being. Over the past, erm, 8 months I've also been figuring out - for the first time - what it means to me to be gay and single. When I first came out I felt like my sexuality was contingent upon my relationship status. It wasn't until Lady Cop and I broke up (for the final time) that I started to explore life as a single lesbian; in a nutshell it's AWESOME!

When I first started dating women, I was quite insecure with myself, particularly about my appearance. Coming from heteroland, I felt that I did not have enough beauty capital to attract the kind of man I was attracted to, and I did not know if those same beauty dynamics would transfer over into the lesbian community. How would other women engage with my body, and how would I engage with their bodies? It has been completely fascinating for me to observe and experience a variety of queer aesthetics. Heteronormative beauty standards do not hold the same influence within the queer community - though they are not completely absent either - and while I have found that incredibly liberating, I have also discovered that queer aesthetics can be quite difficult to navigate.

For me, aesthetics are extremely important. They are important because they are about how I represent myself to others, and about how I interpret others. I think it's also really important to differentiate between aesthetics and looks/attractiveness, because while they are related, they are not the same things. I understand looks/attractiveness to be about how one measures up to some external standard of beauty. Looks/attractiveness is often quite a disempowering framework because it is quite narrowly defined, is always about comparison and conformity, and its standards are nearly impossible for most people to obtain. I understand aesthetics to be about how one expresses one's individuality. I would say that it involves developing a stylized version of one's self, though technically such a stylization could involve completely disengaging from the dictates of the fashion and beauty industries.

The reason I believe aesthetics are so important is because of their link to desire. And this is precisely why I find myself so fascinated by queer aesthetics; because they signal queer desire - often in complex and messy ways. Our aesthetic practices (generally) signal something about our personality to others: wearing gym clothes tells people you are interested in fitness; wearing a suit is a sign of power; high heels are a sign of femininity; and asymmetrical haircuts are, apparently, a sign of living in Melbourne's inner north. Queer aesthetics complicates this, because queer culture is about challenging binaries and finding new ways of being. Queer culture is further challenged by the fact that not everyone in the gay community is queer. This has meant, for me, that sometimes I am misread.

I suppose that being misread is part of the parcel of being queer; not everyone is going to get it and that is, after all, the point. Why I struggle with being misread is because I misread myself for so much of my life. Being heterosexual was an identity that never sat comfortably with me and ultimately made me very unhappy; I am eager to distance myself from it in as many ways as I can. I spent far too long passing for a heterosexual; I want my body to signal to myself - as much as to anyone else - that that is not who or what I am.

Since coming out, I have sought to make myself visibly 'queer'. Many of you are familiar with my quest to achieve appropriately 'lesbian' hair: in an effort to make my gayness immediately obvious, I have shaved off most of my hair. My hair certainly signals to the right people that I am gay, and as I joked before, that I live in the inner north. I have this desire to achieve an aesthetic that is unmistakeably queer; an aesthetic that is not linked to clothing, but is of my body. Tattoos are good for this, though  even the visible and aggressive ones have been appropriated by certain heterosexual aesthetics. At the moment I am experimenting with being a hairy lesbian, since body hair seems to be something straight women shy away from. The problem there is that I am ridiculously blonde, so even after months of growth my body hair is not immediately visible.

The reason that I, at times, am misread within the gay community is because there is a disconnect between what my aesthetic says about me, and how I actually am. You see, I like to wear dresses. I always have, and I reckon I always will. But I am not now, nor have I ever been, a 'girly girl'. If I had to sum myself up in four words, I'd probably go with: wears dresses, throws punches. The picture of me at my 4th birthday that I have on this blog I think demonstrates this divide nicely. Because of this, people often tell me that I should go for the rockabilly look. And while it's true that this style suits me remarkably well - it is a style that celebrates the hourglass figure - there are three reasons why I am not taking on a full time rockabilly aesthetic:

1. I have 'commitment issues'. I do not not want to be boxed in to any one way of being. I would get extremely bored if I only ever expressed myself in one particular way. Besides, my personality is far too all over the place to be contained by any one aesthetic.
2. The best thing about being poor has been that it's forced me to breakup with consumerism. I am a recovering shopaholic. I have found it so liberating to not be concerned about wearing the flashest clothes, and have found it incredibly empowering to experiment with fashion I can afford. As it turns out, if you wear your clothes well, it really doesn't matter that they came from Kmart and Savers.
3. While I enjoy the rockabilly aesthetic, I feel no particular connection to rockabilly culture. Largely because, from the outside looking in, rockabilly feels quite heteronormative to me. I know that there is a huge queer engagement with rockabilly, but, it strikes me as often reproducing the butch/femme dichotomy, which is something that I personally do not want to engage with. I consider my personality to be quite masculine, and while there is room for that within the rockabilly femme aesthetic, I don't know, it just doesn't sit well with me. Maybe that's unfair. It's based on a personal experience I had with a woman who - I think - expected me to act femme when I dressed femme. Which just made me want to act incredibly butch. Which made her not want to talk to me anymore. There's good reason for why I have a rep at my office for topping from the bottom!! Maybe I just need to come with a disclaimer...

Embodying a queer aesthetic is something of a moving target. What it means to be queer changes over time; what it means to me to be queer has changed over time. Which aesthetics are appropriated by the queer community change, and are gradually reappropriated by the hetero community (cuz we're the cool trend setters that move society forward). There is no permanence to queer aesthetics; it is always read as queer because of how it is situated within a particular socio-historical context. For instance, my struggle to have my personal aesthetics reconciled with my queer desires may be specific to the Melbourne scene. I wonder if I would still be read as femme if I was in Calgary, where there is a much more conservative aesthetic culture? I suppose in a few months I will find out!

Queer aesthetics are about pushing the boundaries of existing ways of being, and opening up space to become something new. Doing so involves inhabiting spaces where, as Cressida Heyes described it, one is - to some extent - unintelligible to others. I have not quite worked out how to signal my desires through my aesthetic: I am a masculine woman with feminine aesthetics who desires masculine women with masculine aesthetics. But this is part of the fun of being single: I get to experiment with my aesthetics and see who responds and how.

body love

And while it would be nice to have my self and my desires read correctly through my aesthetics, I find that having conversations with people tends to clear up any misinterpretations that may occur (if only everyone was as open to having such conversations as I am)! Besides, even if there was some aesthetic that did signal exactly who I am and what I want, desire is much too fluid to stay in any one place forever so any successfully occupied aesthetic is always going to be temporary anyways. Thank goodness I am finally happy just being me!

You Know You're A Grad Student When...

Last night I had condiments for dinner.

Condiments.

I shit you not.

It wasn't even intentional, it just...happened. And I didn't even realize I was doing it until I broke into some of the more obscure condiments in my cupboard.

Yes, money is tight right now, but it's not that tight. Well, OK, it is. You see, I am not completely out but coming close to being out of groceries and as I'm about to go away to drama camp (I'll get to that) for a week, I'd like to avoid grocery shopping if I can! Last night I was down to the weird odds and ends, and I decided not to break into the nicer stuff because I had chicken in the freezer I could defrost and cook another day. All that left me with was some moldy bread that was getting to the point where I couldn't just keep cutting the moldy bits off, and tortillas. And condiments.

It started off innocently enough. I decided to throw out the moldy bread and make myself a couple of peanut butter and banana tortilla wraps. After which, I was still peckish and only had a couple of tortillas left. Surely I had something I could spread over them? I poked around my cupboard and what did I come up with? Sweet and sour sauce. It wasn't until I plopped the sweet and sour sauce onto the tortilla that the absurdity of what I was doing struck me. And no, it was not delicious. It was weird. And messy. I got sweet and sour sauce on my shirt. After that debacle I figured I must have something better in the fridge. And you know what I had a shitload of in there? Cream cheese. Yeah. I had a tortilla with sweet and sour sauce for dinner last night when I had a perfectly good container of cream cheese sitting in my fridge.

And that, my friends, is what's called thesis brain.

So, drama camp! You know how I've taken to saying yes to all sorts of random things? This would be one of those things. Clearly. Because me and the performing arts...yeah, no. You know what else is a big yeah, no for me? Food services. So guess what I'm doing on drama camp? Oh yeah!

This all came about because of Hubby. I knew about the performing arts stuff, but apparently he's got this whole food services history too. One of his friends is directing a play for Midsumma (Girls Do Gertrude, check it out) and he has been "recruited" to be the chef for their rehearsal week out in the mountains. Now, there's this weird dynamic to my relationship with Hubby where I pretty much do whatever he says. I don't understand it, but there you go. He says run a 10k, I run a 10k. He says come out clubbing, I go out clubbing. He says come out to the mountains and help me cater a drama camp, I go out to the mountains and help him cater a drama camp. It seems the only thing I've said no to was his marriage proposal. Funny side note, that makes him the only man who's marriage proposal I've actually turned down!

So after Carnival on Sunday I'll be off in the mountains with a bunch of performing arts peeps, cooking and possibly doing various other odds and ends jobs. It was suggested that if I play a musical instrument I could be in the show, but I don't think it's the kind of show where they're taking the piss out of themselves so I think my particular musical talents will go unused this time around. I am, however, open to being the Twitter bitch, and will hopefully knock out a few interesting blog entries while I'm there. Oh yeah, and like, write my third data chapter. I do remember this originally being sold to me as a free study vacation...

The Kissing Year

And just like that, 2011 comes to an end. I didn't see the beauty in this last night, but I wore the same dress this NYE as the one I wore to that little karaoke bar in Kona last year. I ended the year in the same outfit that I started the year in. Only this time I didn't pour beer down my front.

2011 was - from start to finish - one of the best years of my life. There were bad parts to it, but the hard stuff is what makes us stronger, and I learned and grew from my experiences. I've found myself feeling a bit sad as this year has come to a close. As if the year ending means all the awesomeness 2011 brought me will end too. It's a silly attitude - and I'll get to that - but as the clock got closer and closer to midnight, I found myself feeling more and more closed off.

When midnight struck I was sitting on the deck at a friend's place, surrounded by a small group of women - some of whom I'd just met, others that I know very well. We lit sparklers and laughed. And I decided to stop being silly and start enjoying myself.

You know why 2011 was such an incredible year for me? Because as I rung it in, I made up my mind that I was going to make it an incredible year. It was a resolution in the truest sense: it was a mission statement. No matter how crap I was feeling, I kept on living my life. I kept doing things to make my life - in some way - better. The awesomeness of 2011 wasn't some magic cast upon me by that bar in Kona or the electromagnetic fields of mantra rays; I made it happen for myself. There's no reason I can't do the same for 2012.

2011 was a lot of things for me, but more than anything else, it was the year of friendship. Not only did I meet a lot of incredible new people who I consider to be absolute blessings in my life, but I've developed some truly wonderful friendships with people who were already in my life. I am in absolute awe over how amazing the people in my life are. The bar has been raised! I no longer allow shitty people into my life, and I encourage others to do the same (even if that means kicking me out of your life - which I know for at least one person it has).

I've had a lot of down time over the holidays - my family being far away and all my friends pretty much being busy with family of their own. So I've had a lot of time to think and reflect on my life and what I want from it. I got a good thing going for myself over 2011, and I'm eager for that to continue. But there's always ways to improve upon something, so how can I take things up a notch in 2012? The answer came to me as I exchanged New Years texts with one of my awesome friends: 2012 is the kissing year! Tell your friends!

Several people in my life have said "Nah, 2012 is the year of writing." But - and I'm sorry - that is stupid! All the people who said that are writers. You can't declare a year the year of your job! Even if your job is something that involves some degree of starving artistry. Just, no! You can still work on your writing and have all those achievements while enjoying some sweet kissin' action. And honestly, who on earth would say no to kissing for the sake of writing? Priorities, people, please!

I absolutely love kissing. It's the best thing about a new romance. The saddest thing to me is when a relationship reaches that point where the kissing just kinda stops. Why do we always stop when it's the nicest part? It's ridiculous! So I guess that is my resolution for 2012: to not stop kissing!

As Coach and I made our way to Thornbury to start our respective evenings at a friend's BBQ, I explained to her about how 2012 is the kissing year. She was less than enthusiastic about this - having just gone through a breakup (side note: if ever there was a reason to get your kiss on, that is it! That is actually a major finding from my research, so, doctor's orders!) - but I wasn't letting up on the idea so she proposed that I needed some ground rules:

1. Ladies Only, Gentlemen Forbidden.
2. It doesn't have to involve tongue, but it does have to be a proper kiss. A quick peck on the lips is not a proper kiss.
3. If it's a year of kissing I'm after, I've got to kiss 52 women; one for each week.

This last rule is rather daunting! 52 is a lot of women! I feel like that is asking for mono (or rabies... given I've just finished reading Chuck Palahniuk's book Rant). I only kissed 3 people in 2011 (and yes, there is a rather disturbing picture on my phone that suggests a fourth, but that doesn't count!). I'm really quite happy with the level and quality of kissing that I experienced in 2011. I have some good 2011 kissing stories, but I'm not telling them on my blog! Though I will share some of my other kissing stories with you...and if I go through with this kissing year business, the women of 2012 will probably not get that same level of privacy!

It's an interesting challenge. There are some kissing related circumstances that are preventing me from committing to going forward with this challenge at this time (I did not kiss anyone at midnight, so as of yet the kissing year is entirely theoretical), but should I go forward with Coach's particular set of rules, I have some game plans for how to get to 52 in a year.

Have I told you the story of the first time I kissed a girl? I was 21 and out with a totally awesome friend at a monthly 'fetish' night at the local gay club. Actually, the very first time I kissed a girl I was 13, but that's the story of how I came to be a heterosexual - so a story for another time! Anyways, I was at this club with my friend and this girl comes up to us and says: "I'm trying to see how many girls I can get to kiss me tonight. Would you like to help me out?" My friend agrees, they make out for a bit, and then my friend writes her name on this girl's arm so she can keep tabs. And then it was my turn...

So I'd spent the last 8 years actively repressing my homosexuality, and along comes some random girl who offers me a totally innocent, no strings, opportunity to do something I was secretly dying to do. To say I was excited is an understatement! Well, Katy Perry, I kissed that girl and I liked it! A lot. Better than any kiss I'd ever had before. I had absolutely zero interest in stopping kissing her, though when I realized that I freaked myself out and did stop. I have no idea who that girl was, but I am eternally grateful to her and whoever was behind her kissing challenge. Thank you for showing me how awesome and  totally OK it is to kiss girls!

I wonder how close to 52 that strategy would get me? Especially if I was to do it while I'm in Sydney for Mardi Gras...


Pucker up ladies!



How To Date Yourself

I've been living on my own for two weeks now, and it's been an interesting experience. At first I hated it! It was so quiet when I'd come home, and I felt starved for conversation. Plus, there was nobody to get annoyed at for the dishes piling up on the bench, as they were all mine. But soon enough I found myself looking forward to coming home to my empty apartment, where I could wander around pantless to my heart's content and take over the kitchen table with my uni work. I even started doing my dishes in a timely manner (helped, of course, by my neighbours' naked bathroom antics). It's been fun, and enlightening to realize that maybe one day when I can afford to, I might enjoy living on my own. My new flatmate moves in next weekend, and I am looking forward to that! It'll be fun to have some 'new blood' in my life.

Living on my own has got me thinking about being on my own. I've spent more of my adult life single than not, so it's hardly new to me. I've learnt a thing or two about dating and being single as the years have gone by and the exes have pile up. For one, when a relationship ends, it's always a good thing. It'll take some time to actually feel that way, but inevitably I find myself thanking my lucky stars that I'm no longer the passenger on a train destined for disaster. After all, if the relationship worked (really, truly) it wouldn't have ended.

Now, apparently I'm not fooling anyone if I try to say that I'm happy being single, but I am. I would prefer to be in a relationship, sure, but I'll take being single over being in a shitty relationship any day of the week! One of the things I like best about being single is dating. This wasn't always the case. Back in the days of my repressed homosexuality the thought of having to date was enough to drive me to accept a relationship with whatever man came along. Turns out, dating's a heck of a lot more fun when you do it with the right gender! What is both great and horrible about lesbian dating is that when you meet up with a girl, you're never sure if it's a 'date' or 'just coffee'. And whatever it is for you, it's likely not the same for her. That may sound horrible, but I love it! Though, to be fair, I do rather enjoy making my life more complicated than it ever need be.

I love meeting new people and getting to know them, seeing if there's a connection or not. And I especially love bad dates! Like the time I saw Sex and The City II. As if it wasn't enough that the movie was a crime against humanity, at one point my date turned to me and said "I always wanted Carrie to end up with Aidan." What the fuck?! I nearly got up and walked out of the theatre, it was so over for me in that moment. But I didn't. I eventually, reluctantly, agreed to another date and crushed her hopes then. On a more recent 'just coffee' date, I said that I'm really not too concerned with what other people think of me. I think she believed me by the time we parted ways. That's another thing I've learnt: if they can't accept me as I am, don't bother. Though, that one's still a work in progress. There's that whole 'good first impression' thing, so if I do think I'd like to see them again, I've realized I need to not be quite so full on with the 'being myself' stuff. Although... if I'm full on and they do stick around for a second date, I believe protocol allows me to hire a U-Haul for said date.

I'm mentioned before that Kanye West has altogether too much insight into my life. Recently I was walking home and listening to one of his songs when a lyric I've heard a hundred times struck me like a frying pan across the face because it sums up my attitude towards dating so well:

But I know that God put you in front of me

So how the hell could you front on me?

There's a thousand yous;

There's only one of me

Ladies and Gentlemen, I am probably going to be single for a looooooooooong time! Granted, maybe one day I'll meet Kanye and we can discuss what, exactly, this 'anything' is he's willing to do for a blonde dyke. (Speaking of which, I was looking through my pictures yesterday, and while I looked good as a brunette, I look better as a blonde. Well, with this haircut I certainly do!)

Given that I have no way of knowing if I'll meet my perfect woman tomorrow or ten years from now (who will be so perfect she'll find my Kanye West-esque attitude charming and delightful) I've got to make the most of being single: I've got to date myself!

Single or not, I think the ability to take yourself out on a date is a skill that every woman, if not everyone, should develop. I take myself on some pretty awesome dates. Possibly too awesome. When I go out on dates with other people, they usually don't live up to the ones I take myself on.

Dating yourself is not meeting up with your girlfriends; it is not sitting at home with a tub of ice cream and a box set of chick flicks; and it is not going to the salon to get yourself prettied up for someone else's benefit!

Dating yourself is about scheduling time out to spend with yourself doing the things you enjoy doing, but don't make the time to do. It's about doing things for yourself that you would normally just do for someone else. It doesn't have to be anything particularly fancy, as long as it's all about doing whatever you fancy.

The past month my workload has been completely insane, and it's not getting any lighter. And while I've gone out on 'dates' since LC and I broke up, I couldn't remember the last time I'd taken myself out on a date. So I said to hell with my workload and scheduled in a Saturday date with myself. I got up early and did some work, then headed to the gym for the first time in 3 weeks. That wasn't technically part of the date, but, it made me feel good and if I had been going on a date with someone else I would've been sure to get to the gym first, and that is the point of taking yourself on a date as opposed to, you know, taking yourself to run errands. I came home, showered, got changed, and headed out. It was ridiculously nice out, so I decided that I'd walk from my place to Carlton, where I planned to grab a late lunch, buy myself something nice and unnecessary, and catch a movie at my favourite cinema.

It was a completely awesome afternoon! I love wandering around Carlton, and I hadn't done it in a really long time (and an even longer time on my own). There's always good people watching in Carlton, and lots of pretty girls (yeah, yeah, yeah, I know they're all like 20 year old undergrads, whatever! They're still cute!). And everyone is there to enjoy themselves. Or shoot someone. Either way, there's excitement to be had! After lunch I wandered through the shops, knowing I could buy myself whatever I liked with the money I had set aside for this date. I thought it would be clothes, but it ended up being books! Which was great because I've been in a real book slump for a few months now, where not much is grabbing my attention. When I have been able to get into a book I dread it ending because I know it's going to be ages before I find something else to read. But now I've got a backlog of books I'm excited to read!

I had time to kill between my shopping and the movie starting, so I went and lay in the sun in a park for awhile, while a bunch of people my age square danced. I have no idea what that was all about, but they looked like they were having fun. I thought about going closer to check it out, but I wasn't actually interested. After the gym and the walk and the shopping, I really just wanted to lay in the warmth of the sun and not do anything at all. Which is exactly what I did. Then I went and saw 'Begginers', which was absolutely beautiful. I don't care what those harpies sitting beside me said about it! Ewan McGreggor is a gorgeous man and a talented actor, but he really cannot do an American accent. The resulting awkwardness in his speech actually really suited his character though, so it works out.

I planned on taking the tram and bus home, but when I got to the bus stop I discovered it was too late. So I walked, and I'm glad I did. It was such a beautiful evening. I came home feeling refreshed and at peace with myself. Whatever happens with the other people who come into and out of my life, I'm always going to have myself. It was really nice to take some time out from everything just to remind myself of how much I actually do like myself and enjoy my own company.

I recommend you do the same.

Street Fighter

Perhaps you are not aware of this, but I kinda love action movies. Not all action movies, and not indiscriminately, but I definitely enjoy a good fight scene. Whether it's a beautifully shot kung-fu movie or a gratuitously violent plotless Hollywood blockbuster, if the fighting's good I am probably a fan. I blame my step-dad. We used to bond with him over video games and action movies, and we all always made sure we were home in time for the X-Men cartoon. My love of X-Men, and particularly Wolverine, runs very, very deep.

I wasn't super into video games as a kid, but there were certainly ones I enjoyed. I hated car racing ones (because they are boring and I suck at them, though MarioCart has many redeeming factors...even though I suck at it), and quest games like Mario, Donkey Kong, or Sonic the Hedgehog only held a limited appeal for me. Fighting games though, I could spend hours playing or watching other people play those!

The game that got me completely hooked was actually a quest-fighting game, that I can't remember the name of. All I know is that it wasn't on Nintendo as we'd have to rent the gaming console whenever we wanted to play it. It seemed to be based around a drug deal gone bad, and the players had to fight off all these gangster goons and eventually confront the big boss. So you'd basically go around knifing people, and the reason I loved playing this game so much was that there was a female character, and I could actually, with a great deal of effort, beat the big boss. I knew that I shouldn't enjoy the game as much as I did, but secretly, I was always itching to play it. But that was one of those video games that, as the consoles improved, never quite made it out of obscurity. Eventually, we moved on.

My brother and his friends seemed to especially enjoy playing Mortal Kombat. And sure, you could kill people in strange and gruesome ways, but for some reason Mortal Kombat was always a bit meh for me. I'm not sure exactly why, but if I was to take a guess, I'd say it's because the female characters never really did it for me. In fact, the only female character that sticks out in my mind is Sheeva, and no, that's not attractive!

Now Street Fighter was a game I could get behind! I loved the characters, I loved the story line, I loved the different settings, I loved the secret moves, I loved everything about it. So yes, when at the Secret Wars finale Scale chose to depict Ken Taylor getting his ass handed to him by Ryu, he won my vote, and the crowd's vote, and the judges votes, and therefore, the 2011 title. Much to Lady Cop's (and many others) outrage.

I stand by my vote. Sure, Ken Taylor is an amazing artist, but he's an illustrator, not a street artist. And Secret Wars is about street art, so it's rather fitting that it was won through a street art depiction of a classic Street Fighter battle. Of course, I was already partial to Scale due to his use of Hello Kitty in the semi-finals, and I already had something against Ken Taylor as I lost a bet over what he was drawing in the semi-finals...

The characters in Street Fighter, and I'm thinking Street Fighter II specifically (does that show my age?), were all really interesting and gave you different tactile advantages (and disadvantages) which made it fun to play around with being each one. It should come as no surprise though that my favourite character was, and will always be, Chun-Li. With her long, brown hair, short, blue tunic, and legs of lightening, I was hooked. She'd kick your ass 9 ways to Sunday, then giggle and prance around as the medics carted your broken body out of the ring. This was a woman you did not want to fuck with. And I wanted to be her!

Chun-Li's legs were always a source of fascination for me. They were so... massive and red. Ah, the crappy graphics of old school video games. <3 The point was, she was a total powerhouse, and if you had any doubt, all you had to do was look at her legs. I was always slightly horrified when I'd see her lose a fight. How could those taught, raw, red legs be lying limp on the ground? Defeat is not a word that exists in those thighs!

Chun-Li was more than a secret object of lust for my young, clueless, closeted lesbian self: she was an idol. She was the first female fighter, and she was taking on the big boys! And while she was sexualized and infantilized, she was still a fighter to be taken seriously.  Maybe because her legs were so red, it seemed like she could be wearing tights. I understood that she wasn't, but I felt like I had the option of envisioning her as having clothes on. Of course, as the newer versions came out, Chun-Li has became reduced to one of the now ridiculously sexualized 'girl fighters'. I mean, come on! Cammy? What military regiment issues a g-string body suit as it's combat gear? And yes, Elena with her long legs, brown skin, blonde hair (as all African warrior princesses have, of course) and white bikini was super hot, but none of the other female characters ever inspired me the way Chun-Li did.

So why is Chun-Li suddenly on my mind? Because of my own fitness quest. Over the past 18 months I've gone from being sedentary to becoming an athlete. The transformation has been incredible. I'm shocked at the body I see in the mirror at the gym now, at how much it has changed in just the past 6 months. I am amazed by how trim I have become. I've still got a ways to go, but it's clear that if I stick to it, eventually people will stop being so fucking surprised when I tell them exactly how hard I train.

There's lots of different body types that I could work towards. I could just focus on losing the fat and doing a general tone-up, but no, that's not what I want. This journey was never about getting thin; it was about getting fit. Well, appearances may deceive, but there's no doubting my fitness when I get in the pool. I love the sheer physicality of my life now. I love that I can just do things now.

Of course, there's still a long way to go. While I can certainly give the average person a run for their money, I want more than that. I want to give fit people a run for their money. I want people to be able to take one look at me and know that I'm hard core. I want Chun-Li's thighs!!! And you know what? I'm gonna get them!

A New World Order

This is going to be a long, ranty, opinionated blog. You have been forewarned!

It's been a big week in the world! A Royal Wedding in the UK; Obama kills Osama in the US; Canada elects it's first majority dictatorship government in nearly a decade; and Australia... well, Australia had the Logies, the season premiere of MasterChef 3, and the Biggest Loser finale. And yup, I'm gonna give you my opinions on 'em all!

The Royal Wedding

So I only watched about 5 minutes of this, though I did watch the made-for-TV-movie about how they met. Which, *barf!* To call their story a modern day fairytale romance is such a load of crap. Though, my flatmate pointed out that people are perhaps taking the whole 'marrying a prince' thing very literally when they talk about fairytale romances. And to me, a commoner marrying into royalty does not a fairytale romance make! I don't see how any fairytale romance, modern or not, involves the prince sleeping around and not even having the guts to make a clean break with his love interest. I admit that the entirety of my knowledge about the royal couple comes from watching said barf-worthy movie, but, in my defense, I have to assume that this movie was made to put their story in the best possible light...and he still fucked around on her in it.

As for the wedding itself, I have to agree with the elderly woman at the post office the other morning: it was pretty. I thought Kate and Wills both looked gorgeous, and the dress was lovely. (I'm not a fan of long trains, but considering it was a Royal Wedding, I'll allow it. Especially as it was not ridiculously long, though I did think Pippa looked ridiculous carting the train around.) I thought the couple looked genuinely happy, and while I will not support the use of the term 'fairytale' to describe their relationships, I certainly do hope that they are in fact happy. And also, I was very glad to see that Mrs. Middleton looks nothing like the actress who portrayed her (who'd had so much botox and face lifts that she barely resembled a human being anymore).

Now, you're probably wondering why I'm even talking about this, considering a) I really don't give a rat's ass about the royal family (Prince Phillip's existence was purely abstract for me until a couple of years ago) and b) I strongly dislike weddings, regardless of who's they are.

I am talking about it, essentially, because everyone is talking about it and I don't really understand why anyone is talking about it beyond the points I made above. I have a very hard time understanding what relevance the royals have in today's society, beyond being figureheads of power and a different kind of celebrity. But the thing I like about the royal couple is, apparently they feel (to some extent) the same way. And it's for that reason that I find them intriguing. It seems to me that all this formality and stuffiness (and qadrillions of dollars spent on the wedding) has a lot more to do with the Queen than the couple. Eventually, the Queen will cark it, and it seems to me that when she does, the role of the royals will greatly change. That's the thing about a lot of things in the world today; eventually the old farts will cark it, and us young folks can finally get to work on making some meaningful changes! (I have very little patience for the elderly; I am not going to pretend otherwise.)

Since I'm talking about weddings and marriage, I'd like to pause for a second and clarify my stance on the issue. I know many of you see me as anti-marriage, and for a long time I'd say I was. But, as I've come to terms with my sexuality and found myself living in a country which denies me certain rights based on my sexuality, marriage is something I've done a lot more thinking about. I think that the institution of marriage is incredibly problematic. I also think the institution of education is incredibly problematic, so I can assure you that doesn't mean I'm against it. I just think it's very, very flawed. Historically, marriage's roots lie in property transactions, namely, ownership of a woman transferred from her father to her husband. From this framework, same-sex marriage is nonsensical. That isn't why there is so much bullshit about not allowing it (after all, women and men are now considered equals, or so we're told) but it is an argument for reworking what, exactly, the institution of marriage represents.

Honestly, I am torn about weddings and marriage. I am both appalled by them and want them for myself. Kinda. Of course I want a relationship which is stable and secure enough to be what a marriage is meant to be. But I really do hate weddings. They are these celebrations that are meant to be about the couple, but they so rarely actually are. So much energy is spent into appeasing other people's expectations about what the day should be, and it's bullshit! What the day should be is absolutely 110% about the couple, and if their great aunt Dotti doesn't like it, she can get fucked! So while yes, under duress I could tell you exactly what I would want for my own wedding, the thought of actually organising a wedding puts me into a cold sweat. Because there's no way for me to do it without someone getting hurt. Tempting though it is to say 'screw it' and not ever bother with this whole wedding/marriage business, if I find myself in a relationship with that strong of a bond, well, I think that's something I'd want to share and celebrate. Yeah, yeah, it's on my mind a lot.

Moving right along...

Obama kills Osama

This one is a really tricky issue for me, because, on the one hand, I don't support the death penalty. But on the other hand, what exactly do you do with a war criminal? Saddam Hussein was caught, put on trial, and sentenced to death. And while the sentencing does not sit easy with me, the fact that there was a trial does make a big difference to me. Osama bin Laden did not get a trial. And here's the thing: America has declared war on all these regimes of terror (yeah, yeah, "They started it!") and is constantly going on to the people in these countries where America is fighting terror that they are doing it to bring them freedom and democracy. Well, America, isn't a fair trial for all part of freedom and democracy?

It seems highly unlikely that the order Obama issued was to make every effort to capture Osama alive. There is something exceedingly creepy about a government issuing the order to kill someone. And it's not really any less creepy for a government to order the killing of someone outside of their own governance.

So I've been thinking: what gives someone the right to kill someone else? There are only two situations that I can personally consider to be OK (and I'm leaving abortion out of this, if you want to make a case of it, then basically, there are three situations that I can personally consider to be OK). The first is self-defense. If someone has decided to threaten my life, I have the right to fight for my survival. If this means taking the attacker's life, so be it. For those of you who are in some way pro-war, I think self-defence covers the only type of killing which should occur in a war.

The second is something that went out of fashion a long time ago: the honourable duel. I think that if two people, of their own free will, challenge each other to a fight to the death, both fully knowing and accepting that they could die if they fight, then why not? I must say that if these duels existed, it would have to be completely acceptable for a person to refuse the challenge. It would only be acceptable if both people were fully and freely consenting. I also think that these duel could not be fully and freely consented to 'in the heat of the moment'. If a challenge was laid, perhaps some sort of a state permit would then need to be sought, to ensure both parties were entering into the duel of their own free will. I wonder what society would be like if this was allowed? If there was no dishonour in turning down a challenge? I think that maybe such a society could be a pretty great place to live.

Which brings me to a society that is not such a great place to live...

Canada Elects Harper into a Majority Government

Why? Why oh why would you do this Canada? I just don't understand. Now, in the interest of full disclosure, and in case you somehow haven't already figured it out, I am staunchly anti-Conservative. This is a party that scares people into voting for them, then ignores the needs of their electorate. They are despicable.

Now, I'm going to do a bit of a quick and dirty cross comparison of Canadian and Australian politics so that everyone can be up to speed. This is not 100% accurate, but gives you a bit of a comparison point.

Canada                        Australia
Conservatives              Liberals
Liberals                       Labor
NDP                           Greens
Stephen Harper           John Howard
Stockwell Day             Tony Abbott*
Jean Chretien               What Kevin Rudd could have been
Minority government    Coalition government

*Tony Abbott is the leader of the Liberal party, who are currently in opposition. So I suppose, Canada, it could be worse. Stockwell Day and Tony Abbott are fucking idiots. The only attempt at saying something positive about Harper and Howard that I can make is that they are not on Day and Abbott's level of sheer fucking idiocy.

For the majority of my years as a voter, Canada has been governed by minority governments. This, I thought, was pretty nifty. It meant that there was a lot of debate, that the electorate could more effectively lobby, and that if the government was deemed to be shit, an election could be called. And guess why we just had an election? Because Stephen Harper's government (which seems to be what he's re-branding the Conservative party as) was deemed to be shit! His budget was deemed unfit and his government fell. Or so it was supposed to. But for some fucked up reason, instead of kicking him to the curb where he belongs, or even just electing him in with a minority government (which actually, given the split probably would not have happened), we've given him a majority government. And thus, are stuck with him doing as he pleases for the next four years.

The last time Canada had a majority government was when Jean Chretien was in power. When it became clear to Chretien that he was on the way out, he signed the Kyoto protocol and legalised same-sex marriage, because he could. Because his party (Liberals) had the power to do it. We have now given the Conservatives the power to do as they please. What will Harper do? Well, considering what he's already done the future ain't looking too bright!

My whole life, being from Alberta (which is basically the breeding ground of all things Conservative - Harper's electorate is one over from mine, and there were always billboards of his ugly face everywhere whenever he had some political success), I've heard a lot of bullshit about how any party which is not the Conservatives is 'Bad for Canada'. Given that Alberta is so terrified of change that they have not known anything but Conservative rule for god knows how long, I shouldn't really be surprised. Having at some point in my life stepped outside of the fold and experienced life in other parts of the country and world, I am quite confident that should the Conservative stronghold crumble, the world will not end.

I don't know if I can possibly express just how angry this attitude about the Conservative party makes me. Especially given that I am very hard pressed to think of what, exactly, it is that the Conservatives have ever done that has actually been good for Canada. I mean, unless we're just talking about the super-rich bits, cuz, yeah, the Conservatives are great for them!!

So, just UGH! Canada, I am disappointed in you. The only good thing that came out of this election was that the NDP is now the official opposition party, by a landslide! I hope that over the next four years their actions will convince more Canadians that they are a party worth supporting.

Which brings us to Australia and the TV

The Biggest Loser has come to an end, just in time for MasterChef to start up again. It's the perpetual wheel of consumption. Take the weight off, put the weight on, take the weight off, put the weight on... I wonder if MasterChef will ever launch it's own line of frozen dinners like Biggest Loser has?

Cynicism aside, I did really enjoy this season. Lara got down to 66kg I believe, hopefully it hasn't cost her her mental health. Emma won (and has copied my haircut...ARGH) which is kinda great because she actually lost most of her weight outside of the Biggest Loser camp. But can I just say...Emma is meant to be the hot twin, but Meg, Meg is completely gorgeous! Emma's doesn't even come close.

And that concludes my long winded, ranty blog.

Young Joni and Me

When I was young, I couldn't wait to be a grown up. Adulthood seemed like the most awesome thing. As I've made my way into adulthood, I've often looked back at my obsession with getting there with a bit of contempt. "What's so great about being an adult?" I'd say to myself. The grass is always greener, right?

I've been thinking a lot lately about younger versions of myself and what they would think of me now. So when one of my favourite web comic authors (and favourite tweeter) Kate Beaton posted a comic of her having a conversation with a younger version of herself, I felt inspired to get out the pen and draw my own!

This is a conversation that I imagine my 5 year old self and I would have with each other.

That last pane is a scene from Peter Pan, and my younger self is imagining she is Peter Pan. Apparently that is not entirely obvious (apparently not everyone is as obsessed with Peter Pan as I am).
I think all the versions of my younger self would be happy with where I'm at now, but they'd all have something to call me out on! I'd get a lot of sass from my younger selves, and I'm sure they'd all be at least a bit skeptical that I really knew best. Which, I must say, is fair enough. I'm not so sure I do!

I had a lot of fun drawing this comic, and I hope to do some more at some point. Though as you can probably tell from the total lack of updates on my blog, I'm rather busy at the moment. It's full steam ahead with the PhD. I want to get it over and done with so I can move on with my life. And that is easier said than done, but hey, it is actually getting done!

Hopefully you'll be seeing more from me on here soon. Until then... stay frosty peeps.

Welcome to Academialand

Last night I had a dream that I was hanging out with my some of my family (Dad, Mary and Pat) and we were watching a music video for some new up and coming female artist. My subconscious is a strange place, so I don't really know how to classify what a typical dream is for me or if this would qualify as one such dream. I had never heard of this artist before, but there's nothing surprising about that. It was a bit odd to be sitting around watching music videos with my Dad and Mary though, and not just because I haven't watched music videos on TV since like, the 90's. What was disturbing about this dream was actually my reaction to it when I woke up this morning: "Hmm, apparently I am doing queer readings of made up music videos in my sleep now." Welcome back to Academialand Dr. Jones!

I have been slaving away over my Neverending Methodology Chapter, and fell asleep last night expecting to have nightmares about it. But nope. Queer readings of made up music videos. And I'm not even touching queer theory with a ten foot pole!

The video was pretty typical for today's pop market, or so I imagine. Close ups of the singer heavily done up, her dancing in sexually suggestive ways with two men, her covered in rainbow coloured candy in a bathtub with a couple other women. Seems pretty run of the mill to me. The following queer reading of it came, as it always does, from a debate with Pat. As soon as the music video started up, I took one look at the heavily made up singer whom I had never heard of before and announced to the room that she was a lesbian. I proceeded to yell at the TV as she suggestively danced with two semi-nude men that this was completely nonsensical as she is clearly gay. Dad laughed at me and Pat baited me. Obviously neither of them were buying my story when she appeared, candy-clad, in a bathtub with a couple other women. This is just what the straight girls do these days. So I turned to Pat and yelled: "Dude! That chick is 100% dyke!" I argued that she had been advised to stay in the closet, hence the weird dancing with men scene, and that the candy-bath scene was her subtle signal to the lady lovin' folk that she's one of us. Obviously they weren't picking up on it; they weren't meant to. Geez!

It's the fact that the first thought I had this morning was that I had constructed a queer reading of this made up music video that bemuses and terrifies me. The fact that I'm now considering the pronouncement of "Dude! That chick is 100% dyke!" as a queer readings goes to show that I am well along the yellow brick road, leading away from sanity and towards Academialand. I have been resistant to going on this journey because, well, because I see it as a departure from sanity, and I feel my relationship to sanity is tenuous enough as it is!

But, what's a girl to do? Five years ago a younger, more naive version of myself decided she wanted to be an academic, and like it or not, I've now got to honour her wish. That is more harsh than how I actually feel... mostly. The me of five years ago who thought being an academic would be super-neat didn't place as much value on having a stable grip on her sanity as the current version of myself does. She was also completely unaware of exactly how crazy making doing a PhD is.

Truth be told, I don't mind academia. It's more that I don't want to be an academic. I don't want to be defined by my day job. I want to be more than the thing that pays the bills. My problem with academia is that it's not exactly a profession known for having work/life boundaries. It can't; it's thinking work. You can't structure your most inspired thoughts to occur between the hours of 9-5. It don't work that way! So the challenge is to find a way to engage in academic work without completely surrendering myself to it.

For you Eat, Pray, Love fans, Elizabeth Gilbert did a great talk on TED about this. And if you have 20 minutes, I highly recommend checking it out!



Everyone keeps telling me that once I have my PhD, it'll be worth the sacrifices. I'll be handed the keys to the kingdom or whatever. I'm a bit dubious of these claims, but I remain hopeful. At the very least, I'll have satisfied the desires of my younger self and can start satisfying the desires of my current self. Which may, on occasion, involve queering made up music videos.

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.

Zippity Doo Dah Zippity Day

Only two more Hawaii blogs to go! Unfortunately, they're not writing themselves. Neither is my PhD. Jerks! We'll get there soon enough.

On our second last day we had an early rise before we were shipped up to the north end of the island for a bit more adventure tourism: Zip Lining! (Of Flying Fox if you prefer) As we shook the sleep from our eyes, we also got harnessed up to go swinging through the trees.

Maya didn't have any shorts that came down to her knees, so she borrowed a pair of Mary's pants. And thus she was dubbed Jane Goodall.

Once we were all geared up, we were loaded into an old military vehicle and taken on a high speed, off road adventure.

The ride was super fun, and that was just the start! We made our way into the forest and were soon at the base of the first line. Now, I should probably mention that I only had a vague idea of what I'd gotten myself into. It seemed like something that would be pretty cool, but I didn't consider the possibility that it might be, oh, say, terrifying?

The first line was just a short run, not too far off the ground, to give us a feel of what we had signed ourselves up for. It seemed simple enough: walk off the platform, sit back in the harness, hold on to the rope, and glide on over to the other side.

I don't know about you, but I don't spend a lot of time suspended in mid-air. And while I trusted in the equiptment completely, the idea of being suspended in the air definitely was a freaky one for me. But that wasn't even the worst! Stopping really freaked me out! I was going so fast down the line that ever time I came to the end, it seemed like a violent collision was the only way I was going to stop. Thankfully, every time, I was wrong. And eventually, I even started to enjoy myself.

Of course, as soon as I became comfortable with stopping, they completely changed the process. For the first four runs we started on a wooden platform and landed on a wooden platform. But after that, we were landing on a gravel path! We pretty much had to hit the ground running, and continue up the hill with the momentum of our harness. The implication of this, of course, was that we'd be facing the runway when we came in for a landing...

Up until that point, steering hadn't been something I'd needed to be particularly worried about. For the record, my bum only hit the ground for a second, and then I bounced up and was on my feet and running. Pat earned the title of Butt Dragon for his landing.

Once we had gotten the 'little runs' out of the way, it was time to stop and refuel with some snacks before we conquered the longer, higher, faster runs. There was a little picnic set up for us at the 'Mac Nut Hut', where they had an old nut cracker and fresh macadamia nuts, along with the best trail mix I have ever ate! They encouraged us to take whatever was left over, so I took the remaining 3 bags of trail mix for my flight home. I only ended up eating 2 bags, and unfortunately had to surrender the 3rd to customs upon my return. I did consider just eating it in front of them whilst they took my shoes off to be sanitized.

Our guides had quite the sense of humour and did everything they could to mess with us. So as we headed out to our next challenge after our snack break, they hid in the bushes and made boar sounds as Maya and I walked past. I seriously thought that we were about to get charged by a wild boar, and judging by how high Maya leapt, so did she!

Next up was a walk across the suspension bridge. It was quite high up, on a wire frame, and involved walking across a plank of wood.

Apparently this was the thing that freaked people out the most. But for me, this was the funnest part. I love suspension bridges! And we were harnessed onto it, so it wasn't like we would have gone very far if we'd slipped. Maybe it was that I was in control of getting myself to the other side, instead of just waiting for impact. Whatever the case, it was heaps of fun and when I got to the other end I wanted to go back and do it all again. The funniest thing was that the guides were stomping on the bridge to make it shake. I didn't realize this until I got to the very end and saw a foot stomp down on the bridge. Maya came behind me, and John was behind her. Every time our guide would stomp on the bridge, she turned around and gave John a dirty look. Sibling love, ain't it grand?

The last few runs were AMAZING! We were soaring over the tops of waterfalls and looking out to the ocean. We got to walk the plank and even jump off a cliff!!! Jumping off that cliff and soaring high through the air, I finally let go of the rope and just glided. And it really sunk in for me that if I could do that, I could do anything.

So we came to the end of the runs and were all pumped beyond belief. We hopped back into the jeep and went soaring through the mud and back into town.

On the way back our guides told us about this awesome black sand beach that was a short drive and hike away from where we were, and the four of us decided this was something we must do. But first, the parents had found a cute little tiki restaurant for us to have lunch in in town.

Now, guys! Oh my god! This was so exciting!! Guess what I found when we were exploring the town, Hawi, after lunch? THE LESBIANS! I got to give them the secret hand shake and everything, it was great! I did not let the fact that I was drenched in sweat and mud hold me back one iota.

We all had an exciting time in Hawi. The shops were actually quite good, completely aside from my multiple lesbian sightings (and they weren't even together!) and I think we all came away with some souvineers. And then we badgered the parents into taking us to this black sand beach. They protested, because that's there job. But we were relentless (because that's our job) and eventually won. As I stated before, we're all glad that's the way it played out.

The hike down was a little more intensive than we had expected, but it wasn't too bad. Mary was a total champion, doing the hike with a back injury. The trail got quite steep, rocky, and muddy in more than a couple places. It was totally worth the hike though. I mean, there's beautiful and then there's freggin' breath taking!

We all had an incredible time exploring this beach and playing in the black sand. Maya caught some tiny black crab, Pat stuck his feet in the ocean, John smiled, and I made a sand angle.

It was a day full of fun filled adventure and family bonding, just like every day of this trip. But I'm sure it's a day that we'll remember for many years to come.

Little Fishies

It's been awhile since I updated my blog, which isn't intentional. I've just been busy and my internet at home is slow and painful to use. I'm not sure if the problem is my internet connection, my apartment building, or my computer. I'm hoping it's my computer because a shiny new one is on it's way into my life. I'm so excited about being able to see my computer screen again! I've completely forgotten what that's like.

The past few weeks have been muffin, cake, chips and ice cream heavy, and I have felt the effects of this. My slow but steady weight loss did a 180 and the numbers on the scale went up instead of down. While I would like to live a life where going up 1kg is not a big deal, I am still a long ways from my goal weight and going up 1kg is a sign that I've gone off track.

So it's been out with the junk food and into the pool for me. No more of this "oh, it's raining, I don't wanna go to yoga" business either! Discipline is an admirable thing to have in ones life and I must return to my idol, Lady Gaga, for inspiration in getting back on track. (Also, Janelle Monae, why on earth has my brother not told me about her?!) Lady Cop and I have entered into a gentle woman's accord to achieve our various fitness goals, and I have every intention of schooling her ass.

My aim is to lose 18kg in 7 months. This year I have lost at least 10kg, and that was only by moderately increasing my exercise. I have been making subtle changes to my diet more recently, and now I will need to be much more disciplined about what I eat. Also, I need to up my time at the pool from 3-4 times a week to 4-5 times a week. And I need to push myself harder at the pool.

At the moment, I swim 50 laps or 1.5km and I can do this in 42-43 minutes. Currently, I am trying to get my time down to 40 minutes. This is proving to be more challenging than I initially anticipated. It is requiring me to really build up my muscles. Which brings me to my diet...

After 6.5 years of dedicated vegetarianism, I have decided to start eating fish. I know, I know! It is shocking. I've only told a couple people at my office about this, as vegetarianism is pretty much the norm here. Today at lunch when I 'came out', one colleague said "...are you still queer?" (Yes, obviously! I haven't gone completely mad!)

I didn't eat fish before becoming a vegetarian, so this is no small decision. I was not getting enough protein to build up and maintain my muscles so a change of diet was required. Ultimately, my decision to turn to vegetarianism was for health reasons, and taking stock of my current situation, eating fish was the healithiest option to increasing my protein and maintaining a balanced diet. I felt sad and kinda sick the first time I ate it, but, then I had to admit to myself that it was really quite tasty.

Actually, if I can be really naughty, I'm even more excited about Christmas in Hawaii now. All those trips to the Indian Ocean when I said no the what looked like the most amazingly delicious fish dishes... Like hell I'm gonna sit on an island in the middle of the Pacific and turn down some Humuhumunukunukuapuaa now!

Thanksgiving

This past weekend was Thanksgiving in Canada. I don't really celebrate Thanksgiving on account of it being a holiday that glorifies colonialism and the slaughtering of turkeys (I would have completely forgotten about Thanksgiving had it not been for Facebook) but this year, in spite of myself, I had a mini Thanksgiving celebration.

As previously mentioned, I have recently started seeing someone, who will henceforth be referred to as Lady Cop (on account of her being a lady cop and a really bad Lil Wayne song, though I'm not sure there is such a thing as a good Lil Wayne song...) and on Monday I cooked dinner for her and my flatmate. I am a vegetarian of over 6 years; Lady Cop is not. I made us a lovely vegetable and tofu stir fry, and she informed me that prior to coming over to dinner, she had eaten some meat. You know, just in case. It's a good thing neither of us takes ourselves all that seriously!

This was just intended to be a cheap date night, it wasn't meant to have any connection to Thanksgiving at all. There certainly wasn't any pumpkin pie, which, in Australia is an entirely different - and better - thing than in North America. But as I was in the kitchen serving up dinner and Lady Cop was interrogating my flatmate, who was becoming increasingly flustered and distressed (which made me chuckle because I totally fell for Lady Cop when she interrogated me), Thanksgiving just happened. And not the Thanksgiving that I'm used to, which generally filled me with anxiety and dread, but the Hallmark Thanksgiving - the kind that can never be achieved by trying to manufacture it.

This new relationship with Lady Cop, it's different from my previous relationships. Or rather, I'm different than in my previous relationships. In my life in general (not just relationships) I used to spend a lot of time dreaming about the future, because the future is a fantasy and can hold all the potential you want it to when the present isn't so great. I don't find myself day dreaming about the future much at all these days. I used to be so preoccupied with how much better things would be in the future that I really turned a blind eye to the reality of the present. That changed when my last relationship ended and my ideas about how the future would be once again came crashing down and I was forced to deal with the present. Enough had shifted in me that when this happened, I actually wanted to deal with the present; I didn't want to just escape into another fantasy about what my future could be.

I don't actually think about the future very much at all these days. Generally when I do think about it, it's in terms of, "Oh fuck, what am I going to do when I finish my PhD?" I like where my life is at the moment, and I am really enjoying just seeing where the path that I'm on leads me. A big part of why I'm so content with sticking to the present is that my present is very much characterised by change. I am in transition, and that is my favourite place to be.

Going back to my relationship with Lady Cop, what's been different is that it's really developing quite naturally and organically. It's just happening on it's own accord and we're both going along with it and seeing where it leads. Neither of us knows where that will be. It doesn't matter, really. What matters is that right now we are happy and right now things are good. We'll deal with the future and whatever it holds as it comes to us. 

This Thanksgiving, I know what I'm thankful for. I'm thankful to be in a place in my life where I can have a beautiful Thanksgiving with people I care about, without the turkey and the pumpkin pie. I am thankful for Lady Cop and all her ridiculousness (but especially her ridiculous accent). And I am especially thankful for those 3 people who got picked to be transferred out to the country instead of Lady Cop, so that our relationship can continue on it's journey, naturally and organically, whatever that may be.