Feeling rather antisocial.

Don’t mix that up with being in a bad mood.. per se. just means I don’t really feel like talking to people. Which of course, impeccably logically, means that I write a blog to be read by the many people out there.
I might not think about that, otherwise the whole computer may actually disappear in a puff of ill logic, that would be bad.
It’s the whole ‘family’ thing. What so and so is doing with so and so. How x lost his leg. Why German Motorcyclists are evil. Dyslexia rearing its omnipresent head, and deaths of course too. Talk about a party. Nah, im just doing my petty teenager thing again, and losing my patience. (me act like a teenager *looks innocent* never.. lol) and just not feeling like it.
It could be that combined with a sudden lack of confidence in my communication abilities.. especially those of an electronic persuasion. What is correct to write, how its correct to write it and how to adapt writing to different formats (the difference between this, myspace, email and facebook etc.) and my sudden adamant conviction that I will make a complete and utter fool of myself, unfixably (there is a better word for that.. but I have no recollection what it is). Its possible that this fear isn’t quite as misplaced as Id like to believe it is. Although im hoping people would forgive me for any social fax pas as such. What with you all being wonderful people and such. ;)
I think what happened was I thought about the medium and as such lost the ability to use it. –just to show.. thinking is dangerous- Happened once in band, in front of school I made the mistake of wondering how I could actually read music.. and as such aforementioned music had the gumption to turn into a pile of illegible dots and sticks.
So until the internet turns back into a legible pile of metaphorical dots and sticks you will just have to adapt, please? :D

All that said it has been an interesting day.
a) I discovered I have a half Kenyan cousin, who speaks with a Scottish accent, wandering around out there. That was a long story involving divorces, 6 children and some ‘cousin’ dating a lass 25yrs his junior. When I say cousin, it is technically speaking. Its along the lines of my (Maternal) Great Grandmother’s brother. So my Great Great Uncle? Its all really detailed and technical, and im really no good at keeping up. They all seem to have such British names that all just sound the same. :P Looking around the 8th cousin mark.
b) I learnt how a pottery workshop works. From the making of the clay (I thought it was dug up out of the ground.. not so) to the spinning, firing and all that jazz.. its kinda cool. They actually live off making pots. Also something I didn’t know was possible. But is seems to work for them..its a nice thought to keep in mind.. all goes wahoonie shaped ill fall back on the Poi and Devilsticks.
c) I found out that one of my old maths teachers (one of the nice ones, well one really.. hardly a plural) has actually read chunks of this.. talk about weird.. lol.. and there goes the blog about my past school teachers.. an hr and a half wasted.. (plus probably means I should be more careful with the spelling.. she might get past English teachers to bring out their red pens.. shudder..) lol
d) I also discovered that I cant speak Gaelic, Although that wasn’t really a surprise. And that half the town names have Norse influence, and as such local language does too. Those Vikings had control of quite a large part of Scotland. I heard a Norwegian declaiming that the reason that Norwegian women are so pretty is because they stole all the good looking Britons, this also suggested the reason why good looking Brits are so few and far between. Charming eh? Those norwegins really are sweet.. lol
e) And in a more survival sense, I learnt that it is VITAL not to interchange ‘England’ or ‘English’ and ‘Briton’ or ‘British’. England, Wales and Scotland are all different, well countries in a sense. And its rather akin to calling a New Zealander Australian, a Canadian American, or all Asians Chinese etc. otherwise known as a death wish.

Oh and I remembered to tell you what everyone thinks of us. In this case us is ‘Australians’. I have spent a lot of time being the only Australian, its been interesting. Tough as buggery sometimes, not only is there the kangaroo deal (or Steve Erwin), but you can just be sooo self conscious when you realise half the time you are the first Australian someone’s ever met. And I do try to make a good impression. I had one guy come up to me and just ask if he could shake my hand cause he had always wanted to meet an Australian. But that’s not the point. (I was also asked when we are going to change to driving on the Right, ummm.. yeah, I still think driving on the right is a phenomenon the rest of the world is just going to get over some day, lol)
What everyone thinks of us. (from my vast vast experiences of the world lol)
Well it really depends on Nationality and age especially.
When I first went to Europe I was worried that everyone would just know the “Where the bloody hell are you?” ad.. but you can sleep well now.. im yet to meet anyone whos heard of it. (we’re safe.. lol)
So, theres the Brits.. some think we’re cool.. everyones related to someone in Australia. Some, well quite a few, think it’s the edge of the world. And there is a little convict feeling around, but its mainly been overtaken by our habit of drinking, wearing Aussie flags on Australia day (*shudder* not after Cronulla people, and defiantly not in a foreign country) and generally acting like hooligans, bogans. So, like I have mentioned before there are times when you aren’t Australian, when you drop the accent, just cause we act like idiots, and sometimes its embarassing.
And then you have Europe. (all those different countries being banged together and totally over generalised, poor things..) We do seem to be somewhat.. foreign. Very foreign. (like I’ve said, I still remember the day I found out I was.. well.. foreign, my first day on Andøya, looking around after being asked who the Australian was, and mildly confused in my jetlagged state cause I couldn’t work out why anyone would ask that) we seem to a mildly unknown species. Not different enough to be a threat, but just different enough to be interesting. A very good mix.
Well there is one thing (aside from kangaroos) ‘young people’ know about Australia. There is a video on the net about a necular holocaust. A cartoon of various necular powers-france, England, India etc.- all threatening each other and blowing up the world (its actually more amusing than it sounds). But for some odd reason we appear in the video, maybe because we have 60% of the uranium, and we appear as a kangaroo. This is a very literate well spoken kangaroo, who declaims to the world in a horrible accent. ‘WTF Mate?’ Im afraid this may actually be how people think of us. Confused kangaroos, up to the elbows in necular holocaust snow, about 2 weeks behind the eight ball. I guess there are worse reputations. Tell me when you think of one..
But fore warned is for armed.

So I sit here. Type away, listen to the Waifs (I got the new album!! Sooo good.. wonderful song about goodbye) and generally hope.. well yeah.. just generally hope. Hope that I don’t offend people, don’t overly convince anyone I’m mad, or that im insecure-its hard to include disclaimers everywhere without sounding wet- (mildly deluded is ok.. could probably handle eccentric.. maybe) and hope I don’t say anything totally un PC that I don’t say deliberatly. Although worrying about that doesn’t really last long.. worring about what people think about me seems to have dissipated.. I think it was overtaken with worry about food, water quality and general survival. Self indulgent worry took somewhat of a flying jump. Isnt that nice? lol
So thoughts move to home. The abstract concept that is ‘the place of belonging’. And how when I left school, when friends changed, when my brother moved out, well that was leaving home. Getting on that plane had nothing to do with it, that was just relocation. Home has already changed to such a point that I can never go back there, it doesn’t exist. It is a concept that now belongs in the past, I will never go back to school every day, second period, as it was, will never be at 1050 ever again, I wont spend lunch on the hill being nagged by teachers to wear suncream. We wont watch the guys play footy-like I could passively watch any more-, gossip about bad fake tans, about the formal, about parents, teachers.. its all gone. I don’t come home and see my brother anymore, mum works so the house was always cold. The place, concept I lived in is gone. So being homesick.. well it just isn’t.
Theres stuff I miss, people from here and there, its just weird. And I cant help but feel I should be more hollow.. I should be more desperate to go home. But im not, and the world is yet to stop turning, North is still North no major dramas, so it cant be all that bad.

That said I listen to my Waifs and Triple J Unearthed music rather religiously. Theres something about the accents and we do sing about some stuff damn well, see I have a little national pride. About going to London, about our accent, about going to Europe and leaving the summer, about the distance. About what we give up, but also about how much is here too.

So, to sign off from such a irratic blog I shall elave you with some lyrics.

‘And I miss you like my left arm that’s been lost in a war, Today I dream of home and not of London any more..’
London Still, The Waifs

‘Baby theres no such thing as goodbye, just an interlude on a long wild ride.’
Goodbye, The Waifs

“Singing songs to myself on the way home, windows down on the freeway”
Whats with the weather, Unknown

(I do miss that..)

“When I wave you goodbye I get déjà vu.. and I know the worlds much smaller these days and you’re only a phone call away. But there are times when im alone and id give everything I own to have you back here for just one day”
Unknown, Triple J Unearthed

And that all did end up longer than I expected, but that’s what happens when you let me write.. don’t say I didn’t warn you ;)