Not my kind of party

**Editor's Note: I found this entry hiding in my draft section today; therefore, it's dated by approximately two weeks. Oh well. No need to let a perfectly good post go to waste. 

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Let me tell you a little bit about my Saturday night.

5pm- Walk in the front door exhausted from a nine hours of running my butt off to serve coffees and food to all the jolly (and not so jolly) holiday shoppers. As my key hits the lock it hits me: tonight is the night our housemate John is planning his Christmas house party. Crap. In my time in the house so far, I've experienced two of his house parties, neither of which I was that crazy about. I am not looking forward to trying to mingle with a lot of strangers who frankly I could care less about. Plus Chris is working this evening so no moral support from that tried and true source. I sigh. Well it's only one night right? I can put up with anything for just one night, right?

5:02pm-After dropping my bag in my room, I head to the kitchen to grab an apple from the fridge. As I pass the bathroom door, I see aforementioned housemate filling the tub with bag after bag of ice to chill the hundreds of beer bottles already resting in all it's porcelain glory. This is the same bathtub connected to the house shower. Yes, singular, shower. The shower that I was planning to climb into in less than five minutes. I close my eyes, count to ten, and remind myself to set the alarm for half an hour earlier to allow for shower time in the morning. This party is already getting on my nerves.

7pm- After eating a light supper, washing my face, and brushing my teeth, I climb into my pajamas (yes, I'm that tired) and decide to keep to myself in the safety of my room for the duration of the party. After turning on my festive Christmas lights, putting on a little music, and lighting the candles in the fireplace, I curl up on the little love seat couch occupying the far corner of my room with my newly purchased British Vogue with a cup of herbal tea. I repeat the following mantra over and over in my head: 'I will not let a group of unruly strangers ruin my night. I will not let a group of unruly strangers ruin my night...' During my third recital, I hear voices in the front garden...'I will not...'then feet tripping across the porch..'let a group..'excited pounding on the front door...'of unruly strangers'...followed by John's voice-HEY GUYS! JUST WAIT TILL YOU SEE THE TUB! And so it begins.

9:30pm-A couple hours into the party, and I'm already over it. I abandoned my Vogue after 20minutes as the pounding of the music and the obnoxious sounds of drinking rang in my ears. I decide to watch a movie. I slide 'Road to Perdition' into my laptop and place a pair of earphones over my grateful ears. Success. A whole two hours pass in the escapism of cinema without interruption. Unfortunately, it's now bedtime. I tentatively pull one earphone from my ear...DRINK DRINK DRINK choruses from the living room. This is going to be a long night.

11:30pm- I resolutely set my alarm, grab my ipod, and begin to climb into bed. Suddenly the door is kicked open and I stare with shock and aggravation at the 6 eyes staring back at me. Two of the intruders retreat amidst a fit of the giggles. The third at least has the decency to semi-coherently give a type of explanation, "Sorry...were playing a hunting game...didn't know anyone was in here...gotta go." Gee, thanks for that eloquent apology. Setting the volume as close as I possibly dare to maximum without incurring permanent damage on my ear drums I jump into bed with John Mayer and try and call it a night.

2am- 'Wow. I must have finally dozed off.' This is the thought that springs to my mind as I am awoken when the door opens for the second time of the night. A split second later light floods the room as the switch clicks. I don't even pause to see who it is-I politely tell the couple at the door (whom I can only imagine is looking for an empty room to gainfully employ) to get the hell out of my room. I toss and turn for the next hour willing myself to sleep.

3am-Chris pops in after he finishes work to check on me before joining the festivities. I try to refrain from any behavior that might be construed as 'uppity.' I'm not sure I succeeded. The party is on...someone might as well enjoy it. Plus, how much longer can such shenanigans persist?

4am-To answer my previous question, longer than you would expect.

6am-I hear the last of the revelers either escape through the front door or make do with a few hours sleep on our couch. Finally, a little rest for the weary.

7:10am-alarm sounds. i refrain from beating it to a little pulp. After all, the party wasn't my poor dejected cell phone's fault. I sleepily grab my towel and head for the bathroom. On autopilot I lock myself in, turn on the faucet, remove my pyjamas, and proceed to step into ice cold water. My mind foggily tries to translate precisely how bottles of beer made it into my morning cleaning ritual. Then it comes back to me-that.....blasted......party. Bah Humbug. 

Walking in a Summer Wonderland? I think not.

So I've been thinking.
Here I am sitting right smack dab in the middle of holiday season '09. Fairy lights are twinkling. Christmas carols resonate within every establishment I enter (not that I'm complaining-I'm one of those freaks who can listen to holiday tunes all day every day from November through Christmas). Strands of garland peak out of the shop windows, and little children can be heard gleefully listing off their santa list to whoever will listen-or is standing in close enough proximity. Time to curl up with a cup of cocoa in front of the fire and watch a good holiday flick-right? Not unless you're interested in sweating off all those holiday pounds before you even put them on. Yes my friends, a summertime Christmas is about as right as hot dogs dipped in caramel sauce.*

Any way you look at it, the southern hemisphere Christmas just doesn't add up. Where's my white christmas? How can the bells on my sleigh jingle if I have no snow to ride on? Not that I've ever ridden a horse drawn sleigh in the snow, but I'd like to have option to do so if I please. Won't Santa get hot in that velvet and fur trimmed ensemble? How can you eat all the yummy yet incredibly heavy Christmas food in 100 degree weather? What's christmasy about a barbeque on the beach? These are all vital questions that I want answered. Call me a traditionalist, but I want to wear my cute holiday frock for Christmas and not a bathing suit.

Believe it or not, Australia did not consult me on my ideal Christmas weather, so it looks like I'm going to have to put up with what mother nature is dealing me. It's almost a blessing in disguise perhaps- this will be the first Christmas I've ever spent away from home, and I was not looking forward to it at all. Thankfully with all this warm weather, it doesn't even feel like Christmas is upon us. I think the big day will just pass me by without too much hooplah which might be just the perfect thing for a homesick holiday girl. Don't worry, I'm not going to ignore the holiday all together (it's not Jesus' fault that I have weather hang ups on the date of his annual birthday party): Chris and I are going to spend a quiet day at home. The plan is wake up Christmas morning, eat a little salmon and cream cheese bagel combo (the traditional Christmas morning do for both our families), exchange our gifts for one another (we decided to get lots of little stocking stuffer items so we have more to unwrap), and then later make a meal of roast lamb, potatos, green beans, and cranberry relish. And there you have it...Christmas a'la' Australia.

*In case you're interested in where my analogy originated here's the backstory: imagine me-a precocious 10 year old girl having lunch at her grandma's house. Sitting beside me is my unruly younger brother dying to shock his sisters with his antics. When a cheeto sandwhich failed to impress (I mean, who are we kidding? Those things are tasty), he proceeds to dip his hot do in the caramel sauce we were eatting our apples with. The thought still haunts me to this day. Thanks for that Daniel.

The Significant Other

After engaging in some unusually high amounts of girlfriend crazy and an overall indulgence in my whimsical ways, Chris begins to mock me:

C: "You know what I want for Christmas? A medal. No. Make that a trophy. A boyfriend of the year trophy. And a parade. I want a thank you parade for being your boyfriend."

Me: "Oh REALLY?

C: "Oh yeah. I don't think I'm given enough credit for being your boyfriend."

Me: "I resent that. I think a lot of guys would want to be my boyfriend."

C: " Noooooo. A lot of guys would like to DATE you. There's a difference."

Me: "Well maybe I should. Date other guys. See how you like that."

C: "Why? are you messing around behind my back?"

Me: "No, why?"

C: "Because I would have noticed if you were messing around in front of me. I'm not stupid you know."

Colds are stupid and frankly not very nice

Dear world, 

I'm sick. Feel sorry for me. 

Love,

Shivonne

p.s. I blame my previously ill boyfriend for my current achy, sniffly, burning throat, pounding head status. 

For the first time in a month I was given a Saturday off. Now generally I get my Sundays off which is very nice and all, but there is just something about having a whole Saturday to yourself to really get you smiling. You get to spend it however you want: lazy, productive, DIY projects, jaunts to the library, reading magazines, sleeping in, eating out for breakfast, reading books, taking walks. You know. The works. Unfortunately this fateful Saturday was not to be so. I groggily roll out of bed after noon, blanket wrapped around my shoulders, hair in disarray to scout out my unsuspecting boyfriend just to pitifully moan one phrase: 'I'm sick and it's your fault.' With that big accomplishment under my belt I trudge back to my room and collapse in bed.

Needless to say my Saturday was with pain pills, throat lozenges, naps, and the occasional movie. At one point I did accompany Chris out of the house so he could pick up some bread and ham from the my work to make sandwiches. I figured the fresh air would do me good. I walk into my place of employment in one of Chris' hoodies, a baseball cap, and sweatpants. My manager looks me up and down and eloquently says, "what's wrong with you? you look like crap." Thanks for the sympathy Leanne. I got a similar reaction from one of the owners when I dutifully turned up this morning for my shift. Me: "good morning." YVonne: "You look awful." Needless to say I was sent home after 2 hours to recuperate before my impending six day work week. Hopefully I'll be feeling a little more above the weather (notice how nobody says this? It's always 'under the weather' so logically 'above the weather would be the opposite effect no? I'm trying it out. Tell your friends.) since I have to open the shop at half past six in the morning. 

But don't worry, Chris is doing his part. Just now when he walked into my room I moaned how my headache wasn't relenting. His reply? "You're not drinking enough water butt head. Look you've had like half a bottle. Ooh take that dehydration." Real nice germ carrier. Real nice. 

23 years, 12 months, 1 week, 3 days

darn it i feel old.

perhaps it is due to the fact that i just celebrated another over 21 birthday. or that i semi-attended a house party full of 18-21 year olds last night (it was held by a housemate so participation or at least passive endurance was obligatory). the stereotypical party came complete with a bathtub full of beer, amateur bonfire, uniform theme, and copious amounts of noise. by midnight i was past ready for the scantily clad girls to get the heck out and the testosterone fueled boys to shut the crap up. spoken like a true old lady i know. i don't think i'm against house parties per say, maybe just ones attended by young (one girl still wore braces) hooligan strangers. yes. hooligan. i said i was old didn't i? at least i didn't have to work this morning. poor chris was not as fortunate; however, i don't think he minded too much since he did partake in much of the tub beer before rolling into bed at 4am; meanwhile i was holed up in my room desperately trying to block out the raucous chants of 'drink, drink, drink' with my ipod's snoozetime playlist to no avail.

on a more positive birthday note, i now get to brag on how thoughtful my wonderful significant other was in planning my day of festivities. honestly, chris was amazing. spending birthdays/holidays in foreign lands can be a damper on celebrating, but chris ensured an amazing day to remember. ok. let the bragging commence:

before i delve into my actual day of birth, i'd like to make a note of the day before. at work on wednesday, my friendly new coworkers provided me with a lovely birthday bouquet. how nice is that? i've worked at the place for a couple of weeks and already i get birthday gifts? after work i got to spend a rare evening at home with my man (he generally has to work) and we made it a cozy night in complete with pizza, ice-cream, and movies. simplicity can be the best sometimes no? after our quiet night we hit the sack early to be bright eyed and bushy tailed for my birthday surprise starting at 8am.

unfortunately, the day had a rather rough start. we managed to arrive 20 minutes late for our first funtivity due to train time miscalculation. oops. halfway running down the streets of melbourne trying to match my boyfriend's big strides through the rain soaked pavement to our destination, chris informed me that we were on our way to participate in a wine tour of the yarra valley-as long as we didn't miss our ride that is. thankfully, they held the van for us and we only suffered a few grumpy looks from our fellow wine tasters. by our first stop all was forgiven though-might have something to do with the introduction of vino into the system, but who am i to complain once absolved of transgression? our tour consisted of four wineries, scenic drives, a scrumptious lunch, and a cheese and sparkling wine to end the day. it. was. awesome. i've enjoyed many a wine tasting self guided tour with my vino loving family, but i've never done a professionally guided one before. it was interesting to get a more educated view on the whole process. after nursing a healthy buzz all day, we caught a few z's on our bus trip back into the city. after dropping of our wine and fudge purchases (yes, fudge was involved-jealous?) we ate a quick dinner in williamstown before heading back into melbourne for my evening surprise which was...drum roll please....a showing of the tony winning jersey boys. i love the theatre and haven't seen a show since i was at school so i was super stoked. i didn't know a whole lot about frankie valli and the four seasons, but the show was incredibly entertaining and the music was superb. chris enjoyed the tunes so much he decided to buy their two disc album from concessions which i promptly burned onto my computer and am presently enjoying. we arrived home a little after midnight exhausted, damp from the foul weather, but extremely content in an as-close-as-you-can-get-to-a-perfect birthday experience. i am one lucky lady.

Shivonne Glenn and Unemployment are no longer synonymous!

Hoorah!

I am now a working girl. Um, I mean a girl who works. You get the picture. Thankfully I've been gainfully employed by an adorable deli/cafe called The Pickle Barrel located a convenient three minute walk from my house share in Williamstown. At the present I have not discovered the origins of the slightly uncommon name, but I aim to do so soon. The cutesy cafe is owned by a brother/sister duo and actually employs another American if you can imagine (but she's from Indiana so I keep the cool Texan factor to myself). And the best part (or at least Chris thinks so)? I get to bring home leftover sandwiches/wraps/cakes/loaves/rolls at the end of my shift that would otherwise be thrown out. Hopefully this will help make a dent in our grocery bill. The only downside I have yet to discover is the danger of working in close proximity to pastries and bread treats. I'm not sure if you're aware, but during my 5 month stint working in a bakery in Scotland, I managed to gain a whopping 15 pounds. Yikes. Luckily most of the treats aren't chocolate based which is my biggest downfall. Willpower, prepare to be tempted.

Chris has also found a bit of employment for himself-he's working weekends at a restaurant/pub called the Atomic Bar. Hopefully as the weather improves (don't forget we're at the end of winter over here) they will need him for more hours. In the meantime he's looking for a second job to fill in the week and finance his rent.

Being as neither of us is in the money so to speak at the moment, I'd like to share with you our activities list of as late:

Activities for the frugal minded:
1. Learn to wear layers. Lots of them. With a shortage of funds we decided to cut a few corners to mitigate our bills. On the top of the list is heating. No one tells you Australia can be cold. It seems all like laughing on the beach frolicking around in bathing suits. Let me tell you it's not. It is FREAKING FREEZING here (at least without the support of a central heating system). I walk around the house in no less than leggings, sweat pants, two pairs of socks, tshirt, long sleeve shirt, and one of Chris' ginormous hoodies. Top it all off with a duvet and the teeth will stop chattering.
2. Take Walks We have instated a new daily activity-twilight walks. It's free. It's exercise. It gets us out of the house and away from the TV/laptops. What more could you ask for?
3. Play Boardgames Well, in this instance, monopoly since it's the only one in the house. We've played three games in the past three days. Chris is a bit more enthusiastic than me (I'm more of a once in a blue moon monopoly participant). I'd like to note that I've won two out of those three games, not that it's winning that is important. Ahem. Note to self: check the charity shop for second hand games to cut down on excessive monopoly play.
4. Visit the Library Thankfully Williamstown has it's own local library. It's not as fancy as the State Library in Melbourne with it's towering dome, free wifi, and open exhibits but at least it has books, magazines, and internet terminals. I can spend a lovely rainy afternoon holed up here.
5. Learn to cook with mince Turns out ground beef is a cheap eat. Being a chicken eater myself, I've never really explored mince recipes. There's more than you'd think. In the past week we've had hamburgers, spaghetti bolognese, mince curry, and Italian mince and veggies. I'm becoming quite the mince connoisseur.

Well that's about all I have for now. As you might have noticed from the shockingly bare picture department on my blogs, I still haven't accessed wifi. I hope to fix this problem soon so I can share some visuals. Miss you all dearly!

A moment in the world according to Shivonne...

[Whilst watching the news, footage of the Australian candidate for Miss Universe flashes across the screen]

Shivonne: "Wow. She really is pretty."
Chris: "Not as pretty as you."

[Shivonne laughs off the compliment and just rolls her eyes]

Chris: "Well not technically, but you'll always be prettier to me."
Shivonne: "You know I got the general gist of the comment without you explicitly spelling it out for me, but thank you for that. In the future you can just leave that qualifier unsaid."

Blogthetic

blog-thet-ic [blog-thet-ik]
-adjective
1. being completely lame in the way of blogs
2. failing to blog for an extended period of time (i.e. an entire month)
*cross reference* Shivonne Glenn

Yes my friends, blogthetic I have been. In my defense however, the past month has been cram packed with two globe spanning flights, one amazing wedding week, and a few precious days at home with my family. I really want to share the brilliant experiences I've had with y'all (well, most of you were present and contributors to the experiences but I'm gonna tell you about them anyway) but that will have to wait for another post as I only have 6 minutes of internet time remaining-I'm going old school public library computer style. For now I'll just give a quick update regarding my return to Australia.....

I am back in the land of Oz (that's slang for Australia don't you know), and while there are no wizards, munchkins, or ruby slippers in sight, there is a big fat prospect of job hunting hanging over my head. Really, are there any more feared and loathsome pairing of words than the job-hunt? I think not. Luckily I got my rear in gear and distributed resume upon resume to all unsuspecting businesses in the area yesterday, and I have had two favorable responses. Now I just have to wow at least one of these establishments at a trial run and I might just be employed! Hoorah! So pray for me in the coming days as I put myself on the job market line.

Oh one last thing. I am currently living in a house share in a cute beachy suburb of Melbourne called Williamstown and I actually have a contact address (gasp!) so here it is folks:
66 Electra Street
Williamstown, VIC 3016
Australia

Much love people! Promise more fulfilling blogs coming your way soon!

Uncertainty

I'm very much a 'what's the plan stan?' kind of gal. Shocking I know what with my procrastinating ways and all, but for some reason as long as I have some foggy idea of what my future holds it doesn't bother me to put it off until the very last possible moment. That's logical no? Well here's an illogical aspect to my plans-I don't mind discarding them at the last minute and I'm notorious for changing my mind (much to my boyfriend's chagrin). I don't like things set in stone because I never know what twists life will throw my way-I gotsta have the wiggle room. You might say I have commitment issues.

I am the queen of to-do lists; often just the action of putting down my plans on paper has such a therapeutic effect that I don't even refer to the tidy color coded lists again. I live by my little calendar planner and tote a green flip pad with me wherever I go to jot down ideas and notes. My Lonely Planet guide is earmarked, highlighted, underlined, and starting to look rather rough around the edges. When traveling I am definitely not an easy going we'll see where to stay when we get there and hope public transport is around person. I obsessively research hostels, plane flights, buses, and trains to ensure firstly that I am booked and taken care of and secondly to find the best prices and times. It's all about the informed decision people. I've become Chris' personal travel and booking agent. He just shoots me an amused look of wonder as I flip through my pages of travel notes and hands me his credit card. Come to think of it, I should start charging booking fees. Hmmm...

Anyway, I've conveyed all the above hooplah for one very important reason: right now I have absolutely no idea where I'll be/what I'll be doing upon my return trip to Australia following my 2 week jaunt home. This is KILLING me! My flight is booked through to Alice Springs (I purchased the ticket months ago when Chris was convinced the rather non-remarkable central Aussie city was the place to be. He has since changed his mind) which is one place I can be assured I don't want to be. Thankfully I can ditch the flight in Sydney and make my way to an as now unknown destination. Ideally we would stay in the city of Oz that has stole my heart-Miss Melbourne herself. Unfortunately I don't think living here is conducive to saving: way to much temptation to spend on unique boutique purchases and frequenting funky bars. The priority is to finance a massive road trip up the middle of Australia and down the west coast by renting a camper van-a little expenditure of oh roundabout $7,000. Quite the spending Mount Everest for me really. I think the answer might be to turn to a live-in-position of the rural persuasion-cheap accommodation, maximum hours, and with nothing to do, there's nowhere to spend your money. I'm not excited about an Alpha experience part deux, but maybe I can find a fabulous resort who needs someone to sit and the reception desk and look pretty? A girl can dream....

Oh no you didn't...

Making my way through the labyrinth of fabulous back streets and lane ways comprising much of the awesomeness Melbourne has to offer, I spot a shop that seems to be drawing me to it with a force a Jedi would be jealous of. Not one to shrug off such a strong inclination, I march quick like a bunny (something my mom used to say to us kids when we were little-it makes me smile) under the prominent sign displaying the store name-Shag. As I enter the colorful room, Cabaret is being serenaded to me by none other than Liza Manelli and I instantly feel at home. No, it's not one of THOSE places silly, it's a vintage boutique!

Today I went-eek!-shopping. Bad, bad Shivonne, bad (that's the judgement I'm conveniently pre-projecting on all my readers for efficiency's sake) Now I know what your thinking, 'um...with what money may I ask?' Yes, it's true I'm on the wrong side of a stable financial situation here with my little work 2 days a week butt, but I couldn't help myself people! I've been in the fashion capital of Australia for 6 weeks now and the only lousy amateur wanna be shopping I've done is to pick up a pair of black work trousers from Target. Lame. It's a disgrace to any self respecting fashionista to be truthful. So today I redeemed myself by exploring all the local, funky, occasionally vintage boutiques in my direct vicinity. There were a lot. Unfortunately I had an excuse to buy (don't we always?) as I really have no appropriate wedding week gear for one little miss Ivy's upcoming nuptials. However even in my blissfully euphoric state I couldn't justify purchasing most of the items I desired (primarily in the flirty fun frock category) due to financial constraints. I contained my shopping spree to two delicious items which I personally think is very admirable. Check out my finds:

This is my very sweet, very demure 'I can snazzy up a pair of skinny jeans' top. It would have been wrong not to buy it-it was the last one, in my size, and ON SALE. Who am I to deny fate? The damage? 45 Aussie dollars (roughly $30 American). Not too bad eh?

I really wanted to post an image of my second tasty fashion treat, but after about a bazillion tries it STILL won't upload. Just that one photo. I can upload every other picture off my computer to my heart's content but that ONE photo is a no go. How stupid is that? Plus I really wanted to show you- it's an adorable stainless steel owl pendant called Hootie. It's a Corky Saint Clair creation-very Melbourne, very cool. Exclusively featuring local artists and jewelery designers, even getting there is an adventure- you walk down the Degraves street stairs into the hidden depths of the Flinders Street Station to find the interesting underground shop named after a character in the film 'Waiting for Guffman'. Needless to say, I adore Hootie, but I guess you'll have to meet him in person instead of via blog. C'est la vie.

...Oh yes I did.

I think that's a bit of an overreaction...

[after Shivonne makes a slightly disparaging remark, Chris rips his hand out of hers]

Chris: "I'm sorry, I'm allergic to that amount of sarcasm. "

[searching for a way to punish her, he gleefully spots an ad as they continue to walk down the street and makes the following comment knowing full well Shivonne has been lusting after an iphone for ages now]

Chris: "I think I'll buy an iphone with the money I make from my sales trip-I mean from what I hear they're really great. I wonder if they have an ap called 'I have an iphone and you don't' so I could find all non iphone holders in the vicinity and send them belittling texts."

Really?

And now for the OTHER side of the story....

So after playing a supporting, often comedic, role in my adventures related via blog thus far, my charming boyfriend is ready to grab the spotlight. Read on for the once in a lifetime chance (honestly-I'm pretty sure I won't be able to convince him to post again) to hear Chris' side of the story. Enjoy the guest blog folks!

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Typing with a gun pressed against your head can be very distracting, but apparently this guest blog is very important to Shivonne. Now I'm not to sure what to write because you've heard all the stories from Shivonne, but that is where my idea came from. Now it's come to my attention that I have been commonly used as comic relief in her writing. For example, my mutton chops looked awesome. For goodness sakes even Wolverine has them (*typers note: Chris originally said 'for Christ's sake' but decided to change his wording as not to 'offend the good, God-fearing, respectable Texas folk). Now some of you might think due to Shivonne's biased and jaded blogs that I am a KFC guzzling, movie addicted, impulse buying, facial hair sporting eccentric. This is simply not true. I much prefer Hungry Jacks (that's what they call Burger King over here).

Now what has been seriously misrepresented is Shivonne's own enjoyment in these apparently disparaging activities. Recently she has been frequenting fast food joints more often than myself. Admittedly this is only for light snack relief. Her own facial hair has become quite impressive-only kidding. It's just a mustache. Hahahaha. See? I can write comically as well. As far as movies are concerned, I admit that I have slight issues. However, I didn't have to exactly drag her by the hair for our 6 hour movie fest in Rockhampton. Unfortutely that experience was the site of a very serious revelation: we are now old. How annoying are those young upstart whippersnappers who talk through the movie? And who the hell doesn't know what Star Trek is? One idiot girl asked if Captain Tiberius Kirk was Luke Skywalker. Luckily I had Shivonne to hold me back before doing serious damage with a straw and my supply of M&Ms.

After all this excitement and binging, we finally arrived in Melbourne. This was after four hour of me pointing out the bag size of other airport travels and complaining that I had been unfairly victimized by the check in lady at the Jetstar travel desk who had just suffered a major sense of humour failure. The salt was pushed deep into the wound by the woman's ability to overlook the huge massiveness of Shivonne's blairingly bright gold hold all she pretends is a carry-on piece of luggage. I was outraged the bag wasn't screened to make sure this Texan wasn't smuggling a tiny immigrant in that thing. Luckily I wasn't picked up as a terrorist and we arrived in Melbourne with a relatively uneventful plane ride.

The next section is a description of some of the nicest things ever done for me by a human being/ish. Now we had not been in the city for more than a day when my birthday arrived. I was turning 23 and 12 months. Shivonne, my beautiful girlfriend, had planned a whole day of activities for us with the precision of a WWII general. This is especially impressive because she managed to do this firstly without me knowing, and secondly without ever being to Melbourne before. First stop was the Melbourne Gaol; this was an inspired choice from Shivonne who knows I have a cultural interest in museums, art, and stuff but a limited time span in which I enjoy it. She cunningly combined culture, history, and a vicious judicial system. Perfect. Second stop was back across town to City Hatters. Now Shivonne's was a bit put out by this part because of my psychic ability to guess what we were going to do. Apparently, she had been planning to buy me a hat ever since I landed in Texas way back in January. She'd done a masterful of job of suppressing my spontaneous desire to buy hats thus far. All this with the aim of taking me to City Hatters to get the hat of hats: Akubra. Oh yeah. This is the Australian outback hat to have. It's made of real rabbit fur so you know it's good. Now after convincing me not to wear the hat in the city, we perambulated back to the top of the city for the most kick ass part of the day-Night of the Museum II on the seven story high screen at the IMAX IMAX IMAX IMAX. The pleasure of this trip was heightened but being able to squash Shivonne's sense of superiority of being the only one knowing where we were going for once that day. After reluctantly handing over the map for me to help with directions to the Melbourne Museum, she threw an offhand comment 'you'll never be able to figure out what we're going to do' with a sneer included. At this moment I had an epiphany- I remembered reading the Imax was in the Melbourne Museum. After mentioning this the disspointment on her face was so tasty I couldn't have eaten any more. To close off the night, we went for a very romantic, very tasty (though not as tasty as aforementioned dissapointment) meal with my amazing girlfriend (that's Shivonne in case you were wondering).

Now you've all read about Shivonne an my jobsearch hunts. These finally resulted in firstly complete disbelief that neither of us are McDonald's material. The second result was my job as a sales promoter at World Series Paintball which has actually turned out to be a lot more fun than I thought it would be. For example, my first week's paycheck financed a helicopter purchase. Not bad for a salesman. Unfortunately it was of the remote controlled persuasion. Yes Mom, I know it's a waste of money as Shivonne's already informed me, but if I didn't do silly and stupid things, you'd having nothing to complain about. So in fact, you could argue I bought it for you. You are welcome. Last Friday was the end of my first two weeks and I decided to go for the notorious after work drinks with the lads and lasses. Shivonne was kind enough to grace the event thank God. I'll take the opportunity here to mention I utilize my girlfriend as my own personal banker for cash deposits. Luckily I handed over the bulk of my earnings before I had the opportunity to spend my whole week's wages on alcohol. As a result I ended up only incredibly drunk as opposed to very incredibly drunk. Again, yes Mom I know-a waste of money. But hey-what's a girl to do?

Today I am off to Perth for a two week business trip. I feel so grown up. The downside of this amazing opportunity is I will not get to see my Shivonne (yes my) for nearly five weeks as she's heading back to Texas before the trip ends. I almost wish I wasn't going, but I know she'll be taken care of and if she isn't, I know where you live. Texas isn't it?

Now signing off....I have been Chris and you've been fantastic.

My life has become boring...

Well, not BORING exactly I guess. Just predictable. I know what you're thinking, 'Quit complaining-you're living in a cool new country silly!' This is true, but I think the novelty is wearing off. Now that I've been in Melbourne for about a month, I've done most of my major sightseeing, I've learnt my way around, and I've started to settle in. I guess the opportunity to travel to lots of exciting new places can spoil a girl sometimes...

Thankfully though, Melbourne is one awesome city, and it's standing the test of time. I've gotten past the touristy stage and the city still has my heart. Every time I step out that hostel door and my anxious feet hit the worn pavement I get excited all over again. I think I just might be a big city kinda a gal. I'm especially crazy for this big city with it's majestic architecture, funky vibe, and amazing shopping (not that I have the money to spend-so mostly window shopping for me). I've even settled into my own little routine; everyday I feel a little less touristy and just a bit closer to an actual resident.

So what does my routine consist of? I'll tell you upfront it's not very exciting, but it is comfortable. Since I only work two days a week (Fridays and Sundays) I have a lot of free time so I have the luxury of filling it as I please. I generally resist the urge to sleep in too late-the free breakfast is a pretty good deterrent for this since it ends at 9. Some days I'm super good and wake up to eat brekky with Chris before he leaves for work at 7. I'm not gonna lie, that doesn't happen all that often, but it's very admirable when it does. After my peanut butter and banana toast and cup of tea (that's the old English boyfriend rubbing off on me) I throw on my running gear and go for a jog in one of the lovely gardens gracing this city. I've been going for about three weeks, and I'm slowly improving. I made the mistake of going during the lunch run rush one day and was totally embarrassed by my running inadequacy. There were hardcore runners training for marathons and stuff plus all the business folks on their lunch break-every single one passed my slow butt on the path. I thought I felt bad enough, but that was before a mom jogging behind her baby stroller breezed past. Gah. I never was a runner though...

After completing my apparently very mild run, I shower and get ready for the day, check my emails, try to knock off a few more chapters from War and Peace which I still haven't managed to complete (I'm 3/4 of the way done though so things are looking up in my literary world), make a run to the market if need be, and then cook up some lunch. I always make my big meals at lunch since the community kitchen gets super busy in the evenings. I like cooking in the big, calm, empty kitchen-very therapeutic. After lunch it's off to the State Library of Victoria which I have fallen in love with. The massive Victorian building just screams intellect so I can get away posing like one (an intellect that is).

There is very reliable free wifi (unlike the crappy wifi supplied at my hostel) and books upon books at my fingertips begging to be read. I am a proud holder of a Victoria Library Card and have even learned to make book requests online. Nice. My major library activity however is researching subjects I find interesting in the hopes of directing my hopefully future career in the right direction. I picked up a chic notebook so I would be inspired to super diligent note-taking. So far it's working so my self-psycho manipulation is very successful, though probably not a future career choice. I head home when the grumpy library staff kicks me out at 9pm (I guess it IS closing time so they are entitled) to make a light dinner, and if I think I deserve to be treated (which I usually do) I pick up a 50 cent McDonald's soft serve cone on the way home-who knew happiness was one ice cream cone away?

Just Another Day in 'Marvellous Melbourne'

In 1880 Melburnians began referring to their beloved city as 'Marvellous Melbourne.' The city was founded in 1835, so it only took them 45 years to come up with the nickname-I have my doubts on how clever these early inhabitants were. Honestly, taking nearly half a century to apply an alliterated adjective to their name? Well, I guess you can argue that in 1880 the city was actually marvelous-it was a city funded by the 1851 gold rush (incidentally just weeks after Victoria separated to form its own state separate from New South Wales; you call that good timing), it had become a place of lavish hotels, victorian buildings, stately theatres, and luscious gardens. At that time it was actually the second largest city in the British empire behind London-pretty impressive stuff. Unfortunately all that high living came to a halt when they suffered a huge depression in the '90s (the old school 1890s, not the Saved by the Bell '90s). Don't worry, they have more than recovered and I reckon the city is at its most marvelous today.

This week Melbourne, once again, showed me how marvelous it is. Chris started his job as a sales rep for World Series Paintball (reference my last blog) so I had a lot of solitary time on my hands being gainfully unemployed. To counteract any depression resulting from my apparent unemployability, I decided to release some good feely endorphins the old fashioned way-running. Now lets just say I am, ahem, slightly out of shape. Without a gym membership at my fingertips, I have been less than enthusiastic to participate in physical exercise as it is rather inconvenient. Unfortunately, I have been freaking out (again) lately about getting old, and after subscribing to a 40 and over email newsletter about healthy living I am quite worried about my heart health and have been inspired to engage in cardio vascular activity at least three days a week. (Note to self-reading literature targeted for a demographic two times may age MIGHT contribute to me feeling older) Luckily, my marvelous Melbourne is a city of gardens, and there is a particularly lovely running track mere minutes from my hostel. Now I have horribly sore thighs, calves, hips, sides, and toes, but my endorphins are raging. So begins my love/hate relationship with the daily run.

After my vigorous morning exercise, I return to the hostel breathing in an asthma attack fashion, beat red in the face, and soaking in cold sweat. After a stretch and a quick shower, I appear almost normal again except the redness in my face generally persists a good couple of hours. Now comes the fun part-sightseeing! After highlighting every free activity in my Lonely Planet Guide, I was ready to further my Melburnian enlightenment. It took me two days to take in all the National Gallery of Victoria had to offer. I particularly enjoyed the Persuasion: Fashion in the Age of Jane Austen. And I discovered I enjoy paintings much more than sculpture or designware. It takes me ages to go through the galleries because I have to stop and read every description of all the paintings. The first day I went I took one of our bunkmates, and I'm not sure Irish guy John was too impressed with my neanderthall pace of the place. Needless to say, I took a solitary trip the second time. There's actually a really great Dali temporary exhibit called Liquid Desire on at the moment. I say 'really great' from what I've heard, not first hand experience, as the entrance to that costs $23. I appreciate art, but I'm afraid my wallet can't afford to do the same at the moment.

I also went to the City Museum housed in the old Treasury Building. It wasn't free, but at $8 even my measly budget could take the hit. The Old Treasury is a beautiful building that was designed by a 19 year old kid from Liverpool which I thought was very impressive. At 19 my biggest achivement was making it to class on time. It used to be where a lot of government malarkey took place, and it still holds official business there today, but it is most famous for housing all that wonderful, sought after gold of the late 1800s in its expansive vaults. It's a nice little museum depicting Melbourne's history with the bonus of a victorian era theatre exhibit. This is also where the marriage registrar office is, so there's always lots of brides in front of the building fighting over prime picture real estate.

Finally this week, I also made it to the Queen Victoria Market-a couple of times actually. Whilst browsing through the stalls I also managed to pick up a bit of casual employment. Hoorah! I'll be selling these tribal looking hair comb things, and I start tomorrow. It's only a few hours a week, but at least I'll have a little cash flow. After congragulating myself on my employment venture, I celebrated by buying a $5 dress. I'm not sure how much wear I'll get from it, but I really like the bottom bit. Plus, there were only two left, and one of them was damaged, so the guy threw that one in for free. I'm thinking of cutting off the bottom fabric from one and fashioning it into a scarf. We'll see how crafty I can be.

Oh one last thing! On our way home from the market today, Chris and I came across a band called Bonjah playing on the street. They are actually Kiwi (from New Zealand), but they've been in Melbourne for the past three years. Their sound is really funky/folky/soulful sounding-to my untrained ear anyway. They were selling their debut album Until Dawn, so Chris bought a copy and had the whole band sign it in case they get famous. You can check them out at www.myspace.com/bonjahband. We sat on the steps of the Old General Post Office building, pulled out some treats we bought at the market, and enjoyed a little live music. Now how Marvellous is that?

Job Searching Hell

I have just returned from what is possibly my idea of hell- attempting to sell a product that I don't care about to poor unsuspecting people with no initial interest. Yes, today was part two of my Sales Representative interview process for a paintball company here in Melbourne. I wish I could tell you I was kidding. Things are getting pretty desperate (obviously if I'm willing to walk around bugging people to earn a buck). So here's the story of how I ended up in a southeast suburb of Melbourne, walking into office parks uninvited, and attempting to hawk discounted paintball tickets:

After sending out a bazillion (approximately) resumes/applications to every online job website I could find and failing to receive any answers to my desperate plea for employment, my can-do attitude began to falter. To make things worse, my application to McDonalds was rejected. Talk about kicking a girl when she's down. The same establishment that hires non English speakers and 16 year olds deemed me incapable of employment. Thank you big yellow M. English speaking non teenagers need jobs too. Needless to say, my mindset for choosing potential jobs has changed-apply for everything and take whatever you get. It was this mindset that got me to agree to attend an interview for a commissions based entry level sales position at the largest paintball company in Australia.

Luckily Chris, who also applied for the position, was asked to come in for an interview as well. I say luckily, but I'm pretty sure that every single person who sent in an application was asked in. They aren't exactly discriminating. The first interview was easy enough-too easy really. We went in one by one and chatted with the owner for a few minutes so he could judge if our personality was 'right' for the job. Both Chris and I were deemed worthy and asked to return for the second part of the interview the next morning with the sales managers. At this point, I'm feeling okay. I won't like it, but I could be one of those annoying people in malls bothering shoppers to try and hook them on a sale. What harm could it do to give it a try?

The next morning we woke up bright and early, put on our business 'look how professional I am' interview clothes, caught the train, and once again made our way to the paintball headquarters. After waiting half an hour, each person was assigned to a sales manager to shadow for the morning. Thankfully, there were 5 candidates and only 4 managers so Chris and I were put together. Thank goodness I don't have to face this alone. We were informed we were heading to prospective businesses to make sales. I imagined going into an interested company to set up corporate training days with a fun twist. Boy was I wrong.

One car ride and a few minutes later, Chris and I find ourselves in the middle of an industrial area surrounded by business parks accompanied by our sales manager Russ-an eager man in his early thirties with a scraggly beard, a World Series Paintball vest, and a canvas tote filled with discount tickets costing $64 a pop. As he chain smokes, he gives a brief debriefing on how the sales work. It's at this point I realize we are about to walk into random businesses who have no idea of our existance and try to sell them crap they probably don't want. I turn out to be wrong about one thing-they do know who we are, and they aren't happy to see us.

As we walk into door after door with blatant 'No Hawkers' signs posted to the front, I start to become super uncomfortable. As we are turned away time and time again, I begin to strategically hide behind Chris' large frame upon entering so I don't have to show my face. Every once and awhile the annoyed 'sales target' would catch my eye while listening to the enthusiastic pitch, and I would silently mouth 'I am so sorry' behind our trainers' back. Needless to say, this is not the job for me. Don't get me wrong, our trainer was good at what he did-his strategy was to see as many people as possible in the hopes of finding those few who did actually care about what he was selling. He would brazenly walk into open warehouses, push his way into secure doors, and do whatever he could to ask one more person if they liked to paintball. And it worked-he sold three tickets earning about $100 before lunch. After eating, he asked how I would see myself fitting in. I could have lied, forced myself to do something so against my nature in order to earn a few bucks, but I just couldn't. Even though I need a job in a big way, that would make me miserable. So I told him the truth, thanked him for his time, and walked away with not much but my dignity.

So there it is. I will never make it in life as an aggressive sales rep. Thankfully I have one more interview to go tonight. I'm pretty sure I'm in way over my head, but I let you know more about that in my next post....

The Travelling Roller Coaster

Not surprisingly, a life on the road comes with a lot of ups and downs much like, here it comes, a roller coaster (don't you just love my oh so original metaphor? I know. But I'm tired so my creativity is limited).

One of the ups: Chris turns 23 and 12 months (he's a little aged depressed at the moment so he can't cope with being called 24)
On our first full day here in Melbourne we got to celebrate Chris' birthday international style. I wanted to do something really special because birthdays traveling can be a bit of a bummer-with friends and families an ocean away it's hard to feel the love. Plus it was the perfect opportunity to kick start our touristy little rears in gear to see some sights. I planned the whole day so the birthday boy wouldn't know where he was going until we got there. The only snag was I needed his help navigating some of the maps to get to our destinations. He figured out a couple that way. Oh well c'est la vie. Here's our day in a nutshell:

Get up bright and early so we wouldn't miss free breakfast at the hostel. It may be his birthday but we're still on a budget-plus it's the only free thing we did all day.

Next we make our way to the highly anticipated Queen Victoria Market. I've been dying to visit the historical open air market since researching Melbourne in my handy dandy Lonely Planet guide. We walk excitedly across the city center enjoying the cool winter morning, following the signs, and then stop dead in our tracks. It's closed. Super organized Shivonne didn't check the winter hours. If she had she would have known the market is closed on Wednesdays. Well there goes the idea of a market sponsored picnic lunch. Hopefully the next activity is more successful.

After the market mishap, I'm sending up silent prayers for the rest of the day to go more smoothly. We head east to the Old Melbourne Gaol. This former prison turned penal museum was the site of more than 135 hangings including the infamous Ned Kelley-a 19th century Aussie outlaw. We walked the dank corridors, tried out the tiny cells, and learned about some of it's more heinous inhabitants. Morbidly fascinating. Chris loved it.

Lunchtime saw us make our way to a fast food chicken joint. Not exactly the poetic picnic I planned but dutifully improvised on a small budget. After our food court break, we ducked into the State Library of Victoria-it's a striking building built in the Victorian era (go figure). I love libraries-the musky smell, the reverent hush, and of course the books. The fact that this library is a historical landmark and beautiful 19th century building as well is just icing on the cake. We didn't stay long but visiting the numerous exhibitions encased within is high on my to do list.

Skipping down the regal steps, I filled Chris in on the next part of the plan: we were off to collect his present. As my arm worked fiercely to stay attached to my body, I reminded Chris he didn't know where we were going. Thankfully he desisted in pulling me down the stairs and refrained from running down the street. When we did reach our destination, his eyes lit up as he read the prominent sign- City Hatters. This London boy has been dying to get a hat of the outback persuasion since we arrived, and City Hatters is the place to do it. The helpful staff fitted him out in an Akubra of his own-the iconic Australian work hat. Now he just needs a reason to wear it....

Our subsequent stop is for a little birthday sweetness; I decided to forsake the idea of the traditional birthday cake in favor of indulging in Chris' favorite sweet-chocolate. One decadently sweet cinnamon dark hot chocolate beverage later we bade The Chokolait Hub adieu and set out for our last big excursion of the day.

Now for those of you who might not know, my boyfriend is obsessed with movies. He travels with over 200 DVDs at any one time, has dozens more downloaded on his laptop, and nearly died of cinematic deprivation when we were living in Alpha. Therefore it is only logical that we incorporate some sort of movie experience into his birthday celebration. We achieved this by viewing Night at the Museum II at the Melbourne Imax. It just happens to be the third largest screen in the world at seven stories. It was only Chris' second time at an Imax so he was stoked. Plus as an added bonus we got free tickets to the Melbourne Museum. I love freebies. And museums. That's what we call a win win situation.

Finally we crossed the bridge to Southbank for a delicious dinner at Blue Train-a trendy river side cafe. The food was excellent and reasonably priced-thank goodness because we spent 3o bucks on two measly cocktails while we waited. After a night cap we walked under the bright glittering lights (no stars in a big city I'm afraid) back to the hostel and turned in for an early night. Job hunting starts tomorrow.

And the downs: Job hunting

Apparently I'm unemployable. I'm a non-resident backpacker who is only in town for a month. My only real experience is in the food industry. Unfortunately here you have to have be a licensed barista to serve coffee (these Aussies are crazy about the bean) and hold an RSA certificate to serve alcohol. Plus all the catering jobs require 'highly experienced event staff.' Gah-I wouldn't even higher me.

After the joy of our birthday funday, we buckled down to start the hunt. Hours of resume updating, job-board hunting, online applying, and in store harassing later we felt pretty discouraged. Fortunately Chris found some furniture removals work on a casual basis for the next few days to make a bit of cash. I wasn't so lucky. Unless I want to be a door to door salesman, sorry salesperson, or telemarketer working on commission I'm out of luck. Unfortunately I'm not the aggressive, push random product into unsuspecting people's faces kinda gal. I have managed to put my name in for some market research telephone work which pays hourly rates so I'm keeping my fingers crossed. My only other 'light amongst the darkness' so to speak is an interview for a cafe position on Monday. I better make a good, not too 'this is my only option' desperate, impression.

One more up: Pancake Sunday

When reviewing hostels to stay in Melbourne, I mentioned to Chris that there was one that served free pancakes on Sundays. 'Book it' he said authoritatively. So I did. And tomorrow we get to enjoy the perks. So looky there-things can't be all that bad when there's free pancakes in the world.

I Like the Way you Move

And moving we are. Today we made the trek to Melbourne after a four day hiatus in Brisbane. It went a little something like this:

-8:30am- Alarm sounds on the mobile phone Chris and I share. I vaguely register Chris hitting the snooze button, roll over, and fall back asleep.

-8:40am-Alarm resounds. On a slightly higher cognitive level this time, I am awake enough to squeeze my eyes firmly shut and pray the snooze has been utilized again. No joy (that's Aussie for no luck). Still with lids clenched shut I feel a nudge at my shoulder; Chris, being the responsible one, is trying to gently force me out of bed. Unfortunately forcing someone to do something generally is not achieved in a gentle manner. After a few minutes of nagging and the threat of missing our plane hovering on my mind I decide to acquiesce to the inevitable. Also inevitable: me being grumpy. Sorry Chris.

-9:25am-After dressing in my comfy travel gear, dining on the remnants of our grocery supply, and hastily finishing my packing I feel mostly prepared for the day but only slightly more human. Sitting in the middle of my bed, my eye feels drawn to the evil that is lying in the corner-my luggage. Even after sending 11kg (nearly 25lbs) home yesterday via seamail, donating a small bag of clothes to charity, and doing a vigilant repack of my remaining luggage (one massive green rolly bag and a gold bag so sizable that it just barely qualifies as a tote) that would make any army officer proud, I still have a nasty feeling I am over the minuscule luggage allowance allowed by the budget airline we are flying with. This should be interesting.

-10:30am-Sitting atop the massive heap that is our luggage on the Airtrain, Chris and I congratulate ourselves on at least one achievement today-we are on schedule. However my nerves start to rise as we ride closer and closer to the dark menacing shadow of the domestic terminal. I swear I can hear it mocking us as our train comes to a stop, 'Look at you and your preposterous amount of luggage-how do you even call yourselves backpackers? It's preposterous! I mock you you silly American, you and all your silly little preposterous possessions.' I guess domestic terminals of the mocking persuasion like the word preposterous.

-10:45am-Standing at the front of the line at the check-in counter, I wait to be called forward. Called forward by the harassed looking attendant in the bright orange polyester jacket that will decide my fate. I wonder if she realizes the immense power she holds over me? Probably. They always do.

-10:46am-'Next Please.' I step up to the counter, confidently surrender my boarding pass, and try to nonchalantly heave the black matter I am currently traveling with onto the scale in such a manner that says 'oh this little dainty piece? It's really not as heavy as it looks.' Unfortunately for me, scales don't lie. I sneak a look at the monitor to confirm the worst-24.2kg. The counter attendant looks at me in what I swear is a suspicious and accusatory manner, glances at the prominently displayed sign that practically screams 20KILOGRAM WEIGHT LIMIT, lets out a sigh and asks 'where is your traveling companion?' I motion Chris over as my dread escalates-Chris' luggage weighs even more than mine. After eyeing the two of us together doubtfully-accomplices two the same crime as it were-she asks for his check-in bag. He drops it heftily from his shoulders. 'And that one?' She points to the monstrosity that is his carry-on. Bigger than mine if you can imagine. 'My carry on?' He weakly asks. An unbelieving stare is his only reply. I take this opportunity to stealthily shift my own oversized carry on which I know weighs as much if not more than my already-over-the-limit checked bag out of sight. We are in deep airline doo doo.

-11:10am-After paying an accumulative $140 in over limit baggage fees, we are mercifully allowed to finally proceed through security. Chris and I exchange grim looks. Maybe we'll stick to the ground next time.

Thankfully the subsequent 3 hour flight and hour bus ride into Melbourne was uneventful. From our drop off point we successfully navigated our way through the bustling transit station, purchased the appropriate tickets, maneuvered down the escalators and onto our train with aforementioned ridiculous luggage, found our stop, and eventually ascended the exit stairs to step out into the crisp winter afternoon air. Blinking in the weak sunlight we take in our surroundings. Gaping at the architectural delight that is Federation Square, my eyes quickly consume the sight of the vibrant city center complete with a vibrating pulse of people, a melodic city hum, towering buildings that seem to shimmer in the sunlight, street lights blinking playfully, and colorful cafes and boutiques on every corner vying for attention. And this, this moment, is why I travel.

More Adventures in the land of the Queen....

And by the land of the Queen I mean, of course, Queensland-so far the only state I've seen here in Australia. Technically though all of Australia is the land of the Queen being as Queen Elizabeth II is the reining monarch (yes, she is not only the Queen of England but also the Queen of Australia; Argo, the Queen of England does NOT hold sovereignty over Australia. The two separate titles just happen to be held by the same person. Confusing I know.) However, I don't think the Aussies are to keen about claiming that heritage-they've recently removed her from the currency for goodness sakes. Interestingly enough, they ARE happy to honor the Queen on her official birthday. Wonder if it has anything to do with getting a day off once a year for the national holiday? Hmmm...you be the judge. But when you get down to the nitty gritty, the country still has ties to her; the last effort to become a separate republic was defeated 10 years ago so I guess they like old Queen Lizzy a bit still. And in case you were wondering, no. I am not an expert on the common wealth ruling system. I read an article about it recently, found it interesting, and thought I'd share.

Well enough of the semantics and politics; time to give you what you really want....ME! Not to be immodest but this is my blog after all. So you might be asking yourself, "_____(insert name here, preferably yours) what has my fantastic, wonderful, exciting friend/sister/daughter/idol Shivonne been up to in the past week since her last update?" The answer: a lot. Then you should ask yourself why you are referring to yourself in the third person. Kind of an odd habit don't you think? Oh well no worries. Here's a list of activities from the past two weeks:

• Visited the Quantas Museum in Longreach (where the iconic Aussie airline was born) which included a tour of a restored Boeing 707. Incidentally both Madonna and Michael Jackson had flown on this plane which was previously owned by a Sheik from the Middle East (the tour guide pointed out the odd smell might be attributed to the smoking of dairy and tobacco in hookahs by the Saudi Arabians. Not really sure he actually knew what a hookah was.) The only other plane like it is currently owned my John Travolta. Gotta love the star power.
• Learned all about drovers, cattle, mining, frontier life, pioneers and the history of the harsh Australian outback lifestyle at the Stockman's Hall of Fame. This came in handy when we watched the movie Australia on a bus a few days later-I had never heard of a drover before (you know-Hugh Jackman's sexy hot character).
• In Barcaldine we saw the famous Tree of Knowledge-the 19th century tree was the birthplace of the Labor Party and a sign of power for Australian workers everywhere. Unfortunately the tree was poisoned in 2006 by an unknown vandal and the monument was only restored recently this year. Honestly, it's kind of an eye sore but still a fascinating piece of history.
• Pulled an all nighter at the cinema in Rockhampton after being deprived of new releases for three months-we didn't come home until 6 in the morning and saw five movies in a span of two days. Gotta love a movie marathon; not everything can be culturally enlightening after all.
• Explored the Capricorn limestone cave system. I love caves; they have such a beautiful mystery to them. The aptly named Cathedral Cave there is famous for it's acoustics and is on par with the Sydney Opera House, though a slightly smaller venue to say the least.
• Finally saw my first LIVE kangaroo of the trip (the only kangaroo I'd seen so far had been on the side of the road or on my plate). I almost felt bad about eating one...almost. Hey-I think cows are cute too but I'm not giving up steak.
• Witnessed the huge, intimidating, powerful creature that is the saltwater crocodile in person at a crocodile farm. I even got to hold a baby croc! Adorable. It was amazing to learn about their habits, physiology, territory claims, and reproduction. Did you know you can determine the sex of the crocodile by the incubation temperature of the egg? Also, they are the only creature that hasn't changed in form or function since the age of the dinosaurs. So I saw a dinosaur. Lots of them actually. How awesome is that?
• Experienced two days at the Myella Farm Stay. This might have been the best thing I've done in Oz yet. I learned how to drive a motor bike, rode horses, stacked hay, ate amazing home cooking (a rarity for backpackers), gazed at the stars, and came away exhausted, smelling of campfire, crazy sore, but exhilarated.

Now we are ending our Queensland adventure in Brisbane....right where we started it. Unfortunately the funds are in a dire way-we weren't exactly responsible with our finances over the past two weeks, and we let ourselves get out of hand with spending money on going out to eat and living at the cinema. Therefore, we have to lay low here until we catch our flight to Melbourne on Tuesday where we are back to the task of job hunting. Goodbye Sunshine State...hello state Victoria of the cold.

'On the Road Again'

Hello all! Greeting from Longreach here in little old central Queensland. Yes, we are (finally) on the road again after our long layover in Alpha-Gateway to the West don't you know-and excited to be moving. Longreach does have quite a John Denver-esque feel to it; I don't really feel all that far away form Texas at the moment. We've just come from the Station Store (reference visual below). They are famous for work hats which Chris desperately wants to indulge in. Unfortunately the price tag is a bit hefty so it is still up in the air. In the spirit of things he actually sported a starter pair of mutton chops once we arrived yesterday; thankfully, I convinced him to shave before hitting the town today. Though he would fit right in....Our Longreach itinerary includes browsing the stores on the main street, taking a Thompson River Dinner Cruise tonight (including traditional Bush Poet entertainment), visiting the Stockman's Hall of Fame where we'll learn all about early pioneers in the area, and stopping by the Quantas Museam to digest all the info possible on the early days of the airline. We were looking forward to finally taking in a movie at the cinema. Unfortunately Longreach isn't big city enough for its cinema to run everyday. Since we're not here on the weekend, we are a bit out of luck. Oh well-guess we'll have to rely on old-fashioned conversation, sightseeing, and maybe a few stubbies (beer) to see us through...

Time for a Change of Pace...

...and it couldn't come fast enough. 

5 Days

Yes...the countdown is on. Well still on to be more precise. Technically I've been counting down the days left in Alpha since we pretty much got here and I started cleaning toilets and waking up at 5 in the morning but now the countdown number is exciting rather than a tragic reminder of how much time I had to endure before really starting some hardcore traveling. So there it is. Five days. 

And what may you ask will I be doing in five days? To put it simply-getting the heck out of Alpha. Now I'm not saying Alpha doesn't have it's good qualities-friendly people, new experiences, money saving opportunity-all good things. However, I haven't left a two mile radius in three months. THREE MONTHS. Here I am supposedly living the exciting life of an international traveler whilst in reality stagnation has overtaken my life. Fortunately no longer. On Monday, June the first, I will be boarding a bus headed to...drumroll please...Longreach. Okay. Not REAL exciting, but it is the heart of outback Queensland and there's a couple of sights I want to see so I figure while I'm in the area, I might as well take advantage of the proximity factor.  After two nights there my traveling companion and myself will rock the bus again, this time back to Rockhampton where there is a confirmed sighting of a cinema. Unfortunately my movie obsessed boyfriend has gone through major withdrawals not having access to a movie theatre for 12 weeks. I'm afraid we might blow a small portion of our savings on movie tickets for a few days to catch up on the glory that is cinematic art. Like WatchMen apparently. And Wolverine. You know. Real Oscar worthy material. Hey if it keeps him happy I'm all for it. That and fast food. Chris is suffering KFC withdrawals as well so we'll have a couple of really healthy days stuffing our faces with disgustingly greasy food and holing up in a dark cinema. I'm so glad we're in Australia.

Now for the really exciting part. After our stopover in Rocky, we'll make our way down to Brisbane, catch up with a friend there, change over some luggage, and board a plane for MELBOURNE. Let me tell you, I've been going through my travel books and I'm very excited to see Melbourne. As far as big cities go, I wasn't very impressed with Brisbane, I enjoyed the sights in Sydney though it's a rather sterile city (from what I remember from my trip five years ago), but Melbourne seems very interesting. There's loads of art galleries, museums, ethnic influences, historical architecture, and one of the most famous open air markets in the world-the Queen Victoria Market. There's only one downside: since it's winter here, and Melbourne is on the far southern tip of Australia, it will be cold. That's an odd concept huh? Usually you go south for the winter to warm up-this whole southern hemisphere thing really throws you for a loop. You know the toilets flush the opposite way? Sorry. I got sidetracked. Well being as I came to sunny beachy Australia I didn't so much bring a coat. Or really any warm clothes. Translation: you will be seeing a lot of pictures of me in Chris' giant hoodies. Let's hope they're warm enough. If not I'll just have to keep myself warm with enthusiasm! 

Goodbye Alpha...Hello Travels!

Current Location: Alpha, Queensland

Destination: Melbourne, Victoria

Mamma Mia

My entire life, I've been surrounded by strong, independent, beautifully passionate women, most of whom also happen to be mothers. I know what most people would say: 'You are one lucky girl.' And that's true, I am. But personally I don't think luck has as much to do with it as the fact that these special individuals make the conscientious, deliberate decision to live their lives by their own standard.

Growing up though, I never realized how blessed I was to not only know these women but to have them as major influences in my life-never knowing any different, in my naïvety I assumed that all mothers and grandmothers must act the same as mine-protecting their loved ones, putting family second only to God, making countless silent sacrifices, teaching important life lessons not through their words alone but through their everyday actions, and most importantly leaving an unmistakeable imprint on the lives of those around them. Yet with all of these remarkable attributes to choose from, do you know which is my favorite? Their individuality. They are all completely and utterly different in the best ways possible. Having three strong, unique female role models is incredibly inspiring to a young woman such as yours truly as I strive to find myself and become the person I want to be.

Unfortunately I haven't always appreciated how great I have it and my ignorance to my blessings in the mother department definitely reared its ugly head. I distinctly remember being a brat on many occasions over the years from telling my poor mom I hated her over a pair of tights (preschool-I've always been a picky dresser) to snapping at her for accidentally repeating information she'd already mentioned to me (just a few months ago). Honestly-the woman has to keep a family of seven up to date; you'd think I could cut her some slack for not remembering exactly who she told what and when every single time. I recently did the math and realized that except for a nine month period, my mom will have a teenager living under her roof consecutively for a span of 21 years. TWENTY ONE YEARS! That's craziness! The statistic alone is a testament to her patience and tenacity. My little sister recently sent this reply after I mentioned I missed our mom in an email: 'I completely understand missing Mom.  As a matter of fact, I can't imagine missing another person more.  And you know why?  Because no matter what you are talking about she is always interested to listen....I guess that's just another part of the "mom" job.' But it's not her job. It's just who she is.  For that and so many other countless reasons, when, at some point down the road, I wake up one day and think to myself, 'Oh my gosh. I've turned into my mother' I will be nothing but proud.

All in all, I just want to say that the contributions made by my grandma, g-mom, and, most of all, my mom will continue to stay with me as I enter the next phase of my life and, hopefully I will one day pass them onto children of my own. So to all the amazing women in my life, Happy Mother's Day.  

Caught Up

I've been sitting here, feet up, slightly distracted by the news of Oz, catching up on all my emails/facebook/blogging, and it feels good to be caught up. For some silly reason I go through periods where I won't even look at my laptop for a week and then it starts to build up: the stress. How an inanimate object can cause stress to a (hopefully) sane person's life is beyond me, but that's not the point. It does. All I can think about is how many emails are piling up, or how my internet to do list continually grows, or how I should be a good friend/daughter/sister and blog so people know I'm safe and what is happening on my side of the world when out of nowhere I start to get that feeling that isn't unlike hyperventilating  and I do the healthy responsible thing-throw a blanket on top of the thing, grab my i-pod (thankfully never a source of stress), jump under the covers, and play a calming song. Effective, but not exactly tackling the problem. But not this time.  I bit the bullet and acquiesced to the inevitable pile-up. That's the thing about procrastination-it's horribly nagging while you indulge it and virtually nonexistent once you tackle it. Why do we as humans do this? Pretty silly actually. 

Well now I've spent just about all the cyber energy I have at the moment, so I'm afraid that's all I have to offer in the way of a blog for now. Well, there is just one more thing. I read this on my delightful friend Ivy's blog during all my 'catching up' and experienced a real sense of calm once doing so. It's something inspired from an important woman in her life so thank you Momma Ikpeme for this truth that always rings true:

"Give it to God. All of it. Every burden."

And now comes the peace....

I've become complacent.

Mentally, physically, spiritually complacent. And I don't like it. Not one bit.

Did you know a synonym for complacent is contented? But that's the problem-I don't feel contented at all. Don't get me wrong, I love my traveling, and I'm very proud that I've accomplished my goal in that sense; but in the here and now, I'm frustrated with myself falling prey to the monotony of day to day life. I can feel it eating at me, yet I do nothing about it. Lately my life has been an endless continuum of work, eat, sleep, TV, and, if I'm lucky, the occasional book. I can feel it affecting me-I'm irritable, lethargic, and uninspired. And it's my fault. Here I am in a new environment surrounded by wonderful and interesting people and I just can't kick my rear in gear. I find myself vegging out in front of the television instead of picking up a book. I used to enjoy being active and working out nearly every day (well sometimes not enjoy if I'm being totally honest, but I always felt better after. I mean-who actually ENJOYS lunges? Honestly.) and I can't remember the last time I did any physical activity than bike up to work a whole two blocks. I eat crappy food and not surprisingly I feel like crap. The worst part is my spiritual life. It's so easy to become complacent with your faith when it's not convenient. I hate that I'm doing that. I know my relationship with God is suffering, and for some reason I just can't become motivated. How horrible is that? I know it's a daily struggle, but lately I find myself always on the losing side. I guess what I'm trying to say is I need help. Mostly from myself, but also from you if you have a moment to put me in your prayers today.  If there's one thing I can be grateful for it's the amazing people in my life. 

Script Edit...

Oh my goodness. After re-reading my last post, I realized I needed to rectify an omission I made. Two omissions, actually, in my cast of characters. Through some brain fart I seem to have suffered, I unfortunately forgot to include two of the most interesting players of all. My sincerest apologies. So with no further ado, here they are in all their glory.....

Wendy- Tasmanian born women estimated to be in her late fifties, Wendy is, in a word, a character. She is employed as a cafe worker, and lives in her caravan next door to SHIVONNE, JAMES, and CHRIS at the staff house. Always on the go with her faithful dog Tommy in tow, Wendy enjoys finishing work by 2pm to make it home in time for her 3 o'clock cocktail. The locals love her, her coworkers love her, and she only becomes slightly more animated with the aid of a few drinks. She graciously lends SHIVONNE her bicycle for transport while she employs the most awesome blue scooter with matching blue helmet for her personal use. SHIVONNE is extremely jealous.

Jackie-An elderly woman with a dry sense of humor, Jackie makes her way up to the Gateway at least once, if not twice, a day to purchase her most habitual if not favorite vice-her beloved 'smokes'-Pall Mall Slims. When asked what's going on in her life, she proceeds to relate everything she's seen on TV in the past night. Additionally, she harbors a not so secret crush on CHRIS whom she has referred to more than once as a hunk (to his girlfriend nonetheless). She loves chatting to everyone, except perhaps her neighbor whom she avoids because the 'old lady may be lonesome, but it's not my problem. She's boring.'

"Where are you...???? I'm in a glass case of emotion!"

Well, not really. But I've just watched Anchor Man and now I've got all sorts of distracting phrases flying threw my head. Ahem:"Veronica and I are trying this new fad called 'jogging'- or perhaps is 'yogging' with a soft j. Apparently you just run for an extended period of time-it's supposed to be wild."

Ok. Enough of that. I'm just going to start off by saying "You know how to cut to the core of me Baxter. You're so wise. Like a miniature Buddha, covered in hair." Sorry. Last one. I promise. 

Although I'm not in a 'glass case of emotion' per say, I am in a little place called Alpha, and granted it's not quite as exciting as a Will Ferrell flick, I suppose it's about time I told everyone a little bit about the town, my job, and the people around me. To make my current life and situation appear more exciting than it actually is, I've decided to present the information in the form of a movie script or, more accurately, what I believe a movie script looks like: 

A Gateway to Western Outback Australia

The Story of a Roadhouse

Cast of Characters

Glenda Henry-Part owner of Roadhouse. Entrepreneur and full time business woman-owns three companies in various cities and numerous real estate investments; consequently only visits Alpha perhaps two or three times a month. Although hardly present, she holds a particular view of how the Gateway should run on a day to day basis which conflicts with the opinions of many of her employees.

Collin Valler-Part owner of Roadhouse, lover to GLENDA. Though owner, operates more as a handyman dealing with construction projects and day to day running of the roadhouse. Interesting mix of personality traits: one minute good humored joking, the next frustration when you don't read his mind and innately discern what he wants to be completed.  Rumored to hinder financial gain of roadhouse by buying expensive 'toys' (AKA fancy tools) and borrowing 'petty cash' for personal use from safe.

Deion-Recently arrived New Zealander charged with newly instated post of manager to the roadhouse. Talkative, jovial, and hard working man 40 years of age, he is well liked. Resents GLENDA and COLLIN for interfering with his duties and preventing him for doing the job for which he was hired-day to day management of the business.

Narelle-Runs cafe adjoined to roadhouse in addition to administrative duties. Wife of DEION, although not a KIWI (New Zealander) but an Australian born woman of 28. Together they have five children ranging ages 1 to 13: the four oldest from previous marriages and the youngest, CHARLIE, being a result of their union.  

Charlie Marie-Daughter of DEION and NARELLE age one. Adventurer, trouble maker, and all around cutie pie. This rambunctious tot, whose recent achievements include learning to walk, is well known for falling down stairs and harassing pets.

Tanya-One of three customer attendants currently employed at the roadhouse, TANYA is a local woman in her late thirties/early forties and is the longest standing employee at three years. Friendly and accustomed to the job, she performs tasks she feels are necessary avoiding doing anymore than she absolutely has to.

James-English traveler in his late 20s, JAMES is a carpenter by trade. This is-to his dismay- his second stint in Alpha working closely with COLLIN on numerous projects at the company's behest. Quiet and reserved, this man from Birmingham retires from work generally to cook dinner, have a beer, watch a bit of TV, and head to bed. His plan is to save as much money as possible in the next 6 weeks before traveling Australia with his father.

Chris-Half English/half Malaysian backpacker in his early twenties and employed as a customer attendant. Tall, dark, handsome, and incredibly goofy, CHRIS is solely working in Alpha to save money for his travels. When not working, he is most likely to be found playing the computer game Medieval War II 

Shivonne-Adventurous Texas nomad age 23 traveling with her boyfriend CHRIS. Also employed as a customer attendant but frustrated with the monotony of the job. Looking forward to continuing her travels through the great country of Australia as soon as she has saved enough money.

Time

Present Day. Southern Hemisphere Autumn. Spanning the months from March through May.

Setting

Small town Australia in central Queensland-on the eastern edge of the infamous outback. The worn roadhouse sits along the well known Capricorn Highway which makes it way from the east coast starting at Rockhampton and plunges through the heart of the outback situated on it's namesake, the Tropic of Capricorn. The roadhouse hosts customers ranging from the daily locals (whom can be friendly, though slightly eccentric) to the frequent travelers-both international and domestic, from lonely truck drivers to energetic families. The counter is attended by only one worker at a time, making the job a solitary and often lonesome one.

To see how the play unfolds, you'll have to keep reading! (Don't worry, I promise not to play this in script format from now on :)