Throw away the books, we're going out in the streets
Ugh. I'm accumulating one housing disaster after another lately. Long saga short: Masao-san can't leave Sydney yet after all. Needless to say I'm a bit sad about it, but nevertheless Sho, Satoko and Masao, being as amazingly awesome as they are, and I have all formally decided to be besties. In fact I'm looking for a place in the same apartment complex in particular, since I have, as mentioned, fallen violently in love with that building in particular, and it would certainly be very conducive to the suggestions of language-swap sukiyaki shindigs we were batting back and forth on the first night I went to visit. I'm optimistic, but still. Waaaaaaa.
Anyway. I'm back to looking around Pyrmont again, and for a few reasons, I'm finding myself ridden with a constant and almost unbearable skittishness: the very distracting anxiety that, I'm told, gives me the air of a frightened quoll locked in a staring contest with the halogen lights of a large truck. To be candid, I'm prone to panic attacks at the best of times, but lately the butterflies in my stomach are causing hurricanes. And, as yesterday proved, it's never nice to have to sit down in the middle of a crowded fruit market and have a long, shake sob-session, even if one does feel much better afterwards.
There was, however, a night of unbridalled geekery that occurred and involved the combined social circles of
highlyeccentric,
goblinpaladin,
kayloulee, a fair bit too much of domestic wine and a copy of The History Boys on DVD. It was a lot of fun, the fact that I had to restrain myself from taking notes notwitstanding. I also stopped by to visit and exchange double-entendres with Mai at her work on Sunday. Rory and I are learning Mandarin together, too, for what it's worth. I suppose all of the above are quite good, tried-and-true anti-emo remedies.
Anyway. I'm back to looking around Pyrmont again, and for a few reasons, I'm finding myself ridden with a constant and almost unbearable skittishness: the very distracting anxiety that, I'm told, gives me the air of a frightened quoll locked in a staring contest with the halogen lights of a large truck. To be candid, I'm prone to panic attacks at the best of times, but lately the butterflies in my stomach are causing hurricanes. And, as yesterday proved, it's never nice to have to sit down in the middle of a crowded fruit market and have a long, shake sob-session, even if one does feel much better afterwards.
There was, however, a night of unbridalled geekery that occurred and involved the combined social circles of
highlyeccentric,
goblinpaladin,
kayloulee, a fair bit too much of domestic wine and a copy of The History Boys on DVD. It was a lot of fun, the fact that I had to restrain myself from taking notes notwitstanding. I also stopped by to visit and exchange double-entendres with Mai at her work on Sunday. Rory and I are learning Mandarin together, too, for what it's worth. I suppose all of the above are quite good, tried-and-true anti-emo remedies.