συσπουδασωμεν τα ανωτατα

I know, two posts in less than twelve hours, what is the world coming to, right? But I was reading back through some of my older posts and I realised I've been promising this Greek life post for a while, so here it is.

Greek life -- fraternities and sororities -- are something Australians just don't seem to understand at all. I suppose from an outside perspective they are a bit odd; before going to uni I didn't know much about them aside from what I'd seen in movies and media and such either, and Aussies draw a lot of their knowledge of American life from films. The question I always get asked is "Is it like it is in the movies?!"

No. No, it's really not, but I've started to realise that even I can't really explain it. I thought I would be able to -- and sure, I can spout facts about NPC and IFC and NPHC and social vs. service fraternities and sororities, and all sorts of numbers and examples -- but it's much, much harder to explain than I thought, largely because Greek life is a very American thing. I think I read an article a while back about a historically Jewish fraternity becoming the first fraternity to establish a chapter in Israel, which is fantastic for them, but for the most part, sororities and fraternities are limited to the US. I wouldn't be surprised if there were a few which had colonised Canadian universities since they are so close, but that's about it.

But despite their not understanding it, as soon as an Australian spots my letters on my necklace, they always ask "is that your sorority?" and then proceed to grill me about Greek life. It's this never-ending source of fascination for them. It's something so foreign to them, and I suppose the portrayal of Greek life in films hasn't really done anything to make it more accessible, or to make it seem real. They're always shocked to find out that we spend heaps of time doing philanthropy and running events. Some Aussies get it more than others, but the one thing that gives them the most trouble is the concept of the bond, and the sisterhood that exists within a sorority (or the brotherhood that exists within a fraternity, for that matter).

Of course the Aussies understand the concept of sisterhood, but they don't understand choosing your sisters, especially when it's impossible to meet a chapter of a hundred women over the course of recruitment. "What if you make the wrong choice?" they ask, or "how can you just decide to be sisters with someone? That's not how it works". Several people I've talked to are most sceptical about the part where, despite the mutual selection process, you suddenly are basically bound to love and be supportive of large numbers of women whose names you barely even know yet. And they're right, it does sound rather daunting when put that way -- and the only response I really have is, "you have to be there. It's not really that terrifying." It's really the bonding element; spending time together, learning ritual and traditions before initiation, doing projects and getting to know one another. But they think it's backwards. Why would you choose sisters before you got to know them?

And then the dues. Never have I seen more shocked faces when they ask me if it costs money and I quote them numbers for dues at Denison. I would imagine they can be (and are!) much higher elsewhere. Even AXΩ's relatively low dues draw looks of horror! It's almost funny, because it's something I basically take for granted and don't really bat an eye at, but I do remember being a PNM (prospective new member) and thinking "oh shit, those dues are ridiculous".

Aussies just don't really get it, and that's okay. It's not a societal norm for them, and that's totally fine. It's just interesting to see these women who would make incredible sisters, who I imagine would even want to go through recruitment if they were American and went to American unis, and they're like "it sounds...interesting, but it's probably not for me. I just don't get it."

As much as I love Oz, I love and miss my sisters so much, and that bond is just something you can't replace, or describe.

SWOT Vac Thoughts

So it's SWOT Vac here at Melbourne Uni, which stands for "Study Without Teaching". It's basically a reading period wherein everyone catches up on all of the things they didn't learn for the semester in preparation for their exams, haha. Surprisingly, everyone is actually locked up in their rooms doing work, which I didn't really expect, considering how badly we all slacked off during the semester. But I suppose it is crunch time.

Yesterday (yesterday being Monday, though I know it's technically already Wednesday), I helped my friend Alisa out with her teaching exam, where she basically had to give a lesson to an advanced voice student for 30 minutes and be observed and marked on her teaching methods. Aside from just helping her out (since you can hardly teach if you don't have a student!), it was actually really helpful to me as well, since the piece we worked on is actually going on my junior recital in April. Since we don't do a lot of historical-accuracy work back at Denison, she helped me a bit with that, and overall I think the piece is sounding much better, which is great because I haven't had a lot of opportunity to work on any of my recital repertoire this term.

Afterward, we had celebratory drinks at Turf, and then we hit the CBD proper for some shopping (although neither of us bought anything), and then we went to all-you-can-eat sushi at a restaurant in Melbourne Central with a sushi train. It was fantastically epic. Her friend Anisa and Anisa's boyfriend met us there, and we must have been there for at least two hours or so, just gorging ourselves on sushi. It was a $30 all-you-can-eat deal, so we had to make sure we ate at least $30! We ended up with this huuuge tower of sushi plates. It was pretty funny, and the sushi was quite good as well.

Alisa and I have spent quite a lot of time together lately, having lessons for her exam, etc. She's one of the friendliest people I know, and the very first person in Early Voices to talk to me and make me feel welcome in the ensemble. Next week we have a little trip planned out to around where Alisa lives, and she's going to take me sightseeing around the area, which is fantastic because I haven't really gotten out to any of the suburbs yet. Another friend from Early Voices, Helen (who I actually auditioned for EV with, and sat next to all semester -- my fellow Alto II!), has promised to take me home with her to Geelong before I leave as well, since I'm just curious to see what it's like (Geelong is the second largest city in Victoria and I have quite a few friends there -- David is from Geelong as well; not to mention it's home to this year's AFL Premiers, the Geelong Cats and my secondary team). I'm determined to explore more of the Melbourne area before I leave! I haven't gotten to do as much travel around Australia as I'd hoped (since I'm poor and couldn't find a job, sadly), so at the very least I'd like to become a bit better acquainted with the greater Melbourne area. So far this weekend is looking like the weather is going to be fantastic, so I'll hopefully hit the beach, and maybe explore St Kilda a bit as well.

The last few weeks have been a bit busier than usual; the Great Ocean Road was a lot of fun, and it was wonderful to spend some solid time with the Melbourne Arcadia people. We went platypus-spotting on Saturday, and I'm told a lot of native Australians have never even seen a platypus in the wild, and we saw several, so that was pretty incredible. You can't get very close to them, and they swim away very quickly, so really they just look like a sliver of silver (try saying that five times fast! Haha), and they're only about 40cm long, so when you can't get much closer than 15 metres (and that's if you're lucky and they accidentally surface close to your boat), they're really difficult to find.

We also saw the Twelve Apostles on Saturday just around dusk (although apparently there aren't twelve of them...only six, or something, though there used to be more) and the Loch Ard Gorge on Sunday morning, as I mentioned in my previous post, and they were absolutely magnificent. It was a bit overcast both days, but still gorgeous.

The Twelve Apostles are near the end of the Great Ocean Road, so we spent the night on the far end of the Great Ocean Road and then drove back up the next day, making a stop to go koala-spotting, and we saw quite a few koalas! They're adorable, even if they are lazy little buggers. =P They spend most of their days sleeping, and when they're not sleeping they're eating. Fun fact: male koalas have bifurcated penises (two-pronged!), and female koalas have two vaginas and two separate uteruses (uteri?). They also don't mate for life, which I always wondered about because they're rather solitary animals, but I always thought of them as cute and cuddly and I guess somehow that relates to monogamous in my head? Koalas are also not actually bears, and apparently in recent years there's been a movement to stop people calling them "koala bears", because it's inaccurate.

Anyway, then that afternoon we went surfing. I got up a few times and even managed to catch one or two waves on my own, but the water was very, very cold (remember, we're in the south of Australia, and it's only gotten warmer in the last week or two -- it's still technically only spring here, and the Great Ocean Road is even farther south than Melbourne), and I don't know what's been wrong with me recently but my legs cramp very easily, especially if I point my toes. This is a problem because I always point my toes for no reason, haha. (Chalk it up to years of dance training and/or colorguard, I guess.) So after the first couple of successful waves, every time I jumped up my leg would cramp and I would either have to get down immediately or I would fall into the water because it hurt so badly. It sucked, but oh well. I did get about an hour and a half of water time in though, so that was good.

We got back into the city around dinnertime, and then the next day I jumped right back into schoolwork. For my music history subject, Medieval & Early Modern Music (we call it MEMM for short), the final project is a group performance, so we've had a lot of rehearsals recently. A few members of the actual group are a bit flaky, but I have confidence that we'll be able to pull it together at least decently well for the final performance.

Then last week I was consumed with the Vocal Ensemble concert we had on Friday, which went beautifully. I was added to one ensemble at the last minute a few weeks ago, and that was the ensemble which probably had the most challenging part of the programme, the Brahms Zigeunerlieder. Most of the programme was in German, and we did eight movements of the Zigeunerlieder (I think there are twelve in total?), entirely in German, and not even easy German. There was one movement at an extremely fast tempo with all quavers (which is what they call eighth notes here), and I could barely read the notes and the words at the same time, let alone spit them out that quickly. So we had extra rehearsals for the Zigeunerlieder alone, and I spent a lot of time working on it on my own as well.

In the end, the concert went extremely well. Everyone loved it, and I can honestly say that I think that was one of the top three concerts I've ever had the pleasure of performing on, not to mention that the Vocal Ensemble is the most hilarious, gregarious, wonderful group of incredibly talented and amazing people I've ever met in my life. The culture of the music department here is amazing because everyone goes out of their way to say nice things to each other, and my day was made on more than one occasion by someone who probably didn't even realise they were making my day. Everyone is so genuine and sweet, and it's been pretty incredible to see such amazingly talented people go out of their way to compliment their fellow performers. At home it seems that people do this because it's almost compulsory; if someone sings on a recital or a concert, you're practically obligated to say "good job". But so often I find it's the most talented people who lack this sincerity (which is not to say that there aren't plenty of talented people at Denison who are incredibly sweet), and here it's just so refreshing to see everyone so down-to-earth.

Vocal Ensemble this semester really renewed my passion for music, and I think it will be the class I miss the most once I leave. Also, at some point I hope to do a post just about Vocal Ensemble and the hysterical people in it, but we all know my track record with doing blog posts about what I say I'm going to, so don't hold your breath. =P

Anyway, after the concert, we all went over to Naughto's, a local pub just across the street and up about a block from the con (the Conservatorium of Music), maybe even less. Roz, the head of Voice, bought us champagne and nibbles and we sat around and had a lovely time just talking and enjoying ourselves. After drinks, Daniel, Ashlyn and I walked home together, since we all live in the same area, and it was so nice to chat with them, just the three of us. We dropped off Ashlyn first, then Daniel took me home with him for a little while and I met his mother, who is an amazing woman as well, very honest and hilarious. We stood around the kitchen for a while, talking about everything from footy to Australian politics and Kevin Rudd (the current Australian Prime Minister, who apparently speaks extremely fluent Chinese). It started raining as Daniel and I were leaving, so Daniel drove me back to RMIT Village and promised that we would explore North Melbourne (something I haven't really had a chance to do yet, which is unfortunate since I live here!) together sometime soon before he headed off.

I'm a little bit sad that I spent so much time in the group of people that I am/was already in, because I'm starting to get to know all these new and amazing people so much better now, and with less than a month to go before I go home, it's not enough time with them. I suppose it was never going to be, but that's why I'll have to come back, and soon, as Nick keeps reminding me. "We expect to see you back here very soon," he says to me in his smiling bass voice, and I know I would rather die than disappoint, or worse yet, lose touch with these incredible people.

Surf's Up

I'm off to the Great Ocean Road in approximately an hour and a half. Clearly that CLC on Straddie didn't get done; this week was just ridiculously hectic. Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday were all super busy, and then I basically spent Thursday and Friday recovering. It's now very early Saturday morning; I stayed up all night catching up with people from home, and then I had to pack a lunch for today and clothes for the weekend.

The Early Voices Renaissance Dinner went very well on Tuesday night; it was just a long night. We were called at 5pm and rehearsed on and off until the dinner started at 7pm. Performances began at 8, and we weren't finished till 11.

Aside from that, it's just typical end-of-term work. Lots of assignments due in the coming weeks: groupwork, essays, and then preparing for exams. Luckily I only have two exams, though both are in philosophy subjects, so I'll actually have to study for those, haha. It's funny to see that some things are the same regardless of where you're going to uni. The end of term is always like this -- lots of last-second scrambling to learn and do the things you missed, whilst trying to get in the groove of churning out essays.

Nonetheless, I'm really looking forward to this weekend. The Great Ocean Road runs along the southeastern coast of Australia, and is home to some of the most spectacular sights I haven't gotten to see yet, including the Twelve Apostles and the Loch Ard Gorge, which are beautiful rock formations. I've seen some great photos, but rather than posting them here, I'm hoping to post some of my own when I get back. =)

Torquay, the "gateway" to the Great Ocean Road, is also considered by many to be the birthplace of surfing, and is home to the famous Bells Beach as well. We'll go surfing tomorrow as well. I'm particularly excited to get back on a surfboard, though it will probably be a bit chilly, considering we aren't exactly in sunny Queensland, and it's only October, so although spring has arrived, it hasn't really warmed up that much yet. Still, the forecast for this weekend looks good (17 today and 19 tomorrow -- that's around 64 today and 70 tomorrow, in Fahrenheit). And no rain, which will be a welcome change from the constant rain here in Melbourne.

Since this is Melbourne Uni's free excursion, all of the other Melbourne Uni kids will be on the trip as well. Despite the fact that so many of us live together, I haven't seen a lot of people in ages, so it'll be nice to catch up as well.

Hope everyone has a good weekend!

Shake the cloud from off your brow...

It's like Australia didn't exist before I arrived. Intellectually I knew it did, and though I knew it couldn't be that different from the United States, it was difficult to picture even with the help of photos and stories. Now I can't imagine being anywhere else, and I'm dreading the end of each day because it's bringing me slowly closer to the end of my time here, with these new friends who have become my family, with this new city that has become my home.

I'm definitely planning on coming back, hopefully to do my postgraduate studies at Melbourne Uni. Apparently their standards for postgraduate students are nowhere near as rigourous as their standards for undergraduate students, so hopefully I have a pretty decent shot of getting in in a year and a half. Even if I don't end up doing my postgraduate work here in Melbourne, I most certainly plan on moving here after graduation and spending at least a few years living here. I might not move here permanently, and I don't know how I feel about giving up US citizenship (if nothing else, it's certainly a handy thing to have -- for now) to become an Australian citizen. I suppose I could just be an expat forever, haha. Anyway, I'm hopeful because I know I want to come back, because I love this place so much, but even contemplating leaving makes me really sad.

My mom wants me to come home for Thanksgiving, since my last exam is on 19 November and, aside from a ministerial briefing due for my public policy subject on the 20th, I'm home free at that point. But I know I'll want that last week to say goodbye to the city and to my friends here, even if it would be nice to be home for Thanksgiving and to see my parents and my sister and to sleep in a bed that I can roll over in more than once without falling out. I have occasional bouts of homesickness, because I do miss my family, sisters (of the non-blood-related sort -- well, I miss my actual sister too, but she's grouped under family =P), and friends. But I'm not looking forward to leaving here. Five months wasn't enough time. I don't know if a year would be, or two years. For now, I try not to think about it, and I'm making the most of each day which means more skipped lectures (I really will listen to them on Lectopia, I swear!) spent recovering from nights out. But I'm on exchange, right? I'm here to have fun.

I haven't updated in over a month, and as I'm sure you can imagine, so much has happened in that month. I wish I'd kept this blog up better, but at the same time I'm glad I've been out making memories instead of writing them down.

Spring Break at Melbourne Uni is two weeks long, rather than the one week you get everywhere else. Two weeks of break seemed a bit long to me, honestly, but with the second week occupied by rehearsal for Dido & Aeneas, it suddenly seemed too short. The first weekend was spent at North Stradbroke Island (locally called "Straddie"), a lovely island off the coast of Queensland. Details of that trip to follow in a separate entry (I promise this one will actually get written! And within the week, too -- I have to write it for my CLC, haha).

Anyway, I spent the first week exploring parts of Melbourne I hadn't yet gotten to: the Salvador Dali exhibit at the NGV and the Melbourne Aquarium. The Dali exhibit was excellent, a little bit long, but quite good. His stuff is a bit disturbing, but the exhibit was definitely worth a visit. Afterward, Travis and I met up with Kon and Dori, two fellow Melbourne Uni students I'd met a week and a half earlier after a picnic on South Lawn. We wandered lower Melbourne for a little while looking for a pub Dori insisted we go to, but didn't actually find it. Eventually we stopped into a random pub, selected based on their beer list and the fact that they had food. Each of us bought a round of drinks and we sat around talking late into the evening.

Dori was born here in Oz, but raised in Israel, and after serving in the military (it's compulsory for Israelis, I think) for a few years, he came to study in Melbourne. As a result, he's a few years older than all of us, but is only a first year. Kon is a true blue Aussie, and we sat around discussing everything from foreign beer to sex to Obama's healthcare plan. Around midnight, Dori left to go home, and Kon, Travis and I headed into Chinatown for some karaoke and pool, where Kon beasted us at pool and Travis guilt-tripped me into taking a shot of tequila with him before going onstage to sing a Lisa Loeb song.

The next morning, I met Ksenia, the other Denisonian studying here this semester, and we headed down to the Melbourne Aquarium. I confess I was a bit disappointed; the aquarium was rather small, with only four exhibits, and none were particularly impressive. But we got to watch the penguin show and see some jellyfish, and I had a good time hanging out with Ksenia, who I hadn't seen in a while.

Friday was a day spent relaxing in my flat until the late afternoon, when Travis and I headed down to Taco Bill for margaritas and Mexican food. Mandy and Vanessa (a Brit who's also studying at Melbourne Uni this semester) met us there, and Simon joined us later as well. We got well and truly inebriated off of Taco Bill's famous Pancho Villa margaritas (which cost $30 regularly and $20 during happy hour, when we were there). These margaritas are literally the size of your head and contain 11 shots of tequila each. It took me an hour and a half to finish one by myself -- they were delicious, but huge. (Yes, that's me and my -- almost finished! -- mango Pancho Villa margarita. See, the margarita glass is the size of my head, and when I first got it, it was filled right up to that blue band around the rim.)

I hadn't really known Vanessa that well previously, but over the course of the evening and several margaritas, we all got to know each other pretty well. We left Taco Bill and headed back to Vanessa's house, where we sat around and drank goon and talked some more, sitting around and and enjoying one another's company. Around 11pm we decided we wanted to make a cake (but had no recipe), so Simon just started throwing stuff in a bowl that seemed like it would go into a cake. Somehow it turned out fairly well, and we devoured most of the cake before calling it a night.

The next day was the AFL Grand Final. This is like the Superbowl of Aussie Rules football, or footy. I know I meant to do a footy post, even if it seems like I'll never get around to it, so I won't go through the details. My team (the Carlton Blues) got knocked out in the first round of finals, so I decided to barrack for the Geelong Cats instead, since a lot of my friends here are from Geelong. The Cats were playing the St Kilda Saints, and it was a very tight match.

Ben (in the photo with me, taken after Geelong's win) and Callum, two of the IH boys, came to Turf to watch the match with me. They were having free beer from first bounce till first goal, which was only about two minutes, but I managed to scull three beers in that time. Ben was going for Geelong as well, though Callum was for St Kilda -- something about underdogs, blah blah. We spent the entire match on the edge of our seats, getting increasingly drunk and increasingly absorbed by the game. St Kilda would be ahead, then Geelong would score and be ahead by a few, but then St Kilda would recover and pull ahead again. In fact, I thought St Kilda was going to win until the last five minutes of the fourth quarter, but Geelong rallied and managed two goals at the 11th hour. It was spectacular, and I almost went hoarse from all the screaming I did, both at the television (because somehow screaming at a television in a bar is going to do something for the match being played over three kilometres away, of course) and out of excitement, especially in the end.

After the match, I went back to IH with Ben and Callum for some (free) dinner and to celebrate Geelong's premiership (which is what it's called when you win the Grand Final). David and Nielsen are both from Geelong, and so most of our IH friends were also barracking for Geelong. It was a pretty crazy night, lots of noise and excitement. I hadn't seen a lot of these people since I left for Straddie the previous Friday morning, so it was fantastic to see everyone and catch up on everything that had happened in the last week.

I took Sunday easy, and Monday marked the start of a week's worth of rehearsals for Dido. The rehearsals were interesting at first, especially because we're performing as part of the annual Spring Early Music Festival, and so we're using all period instruments (viola da gamba, harpsichord, theorbo, etc). It's really fascinating for the musicologist in me, and quite an experience to be performing alongside instrumentalists who play instruments I'm not used to seeing -- or hearing, for that matter. The harpsichord wasn't so much of a difference since we use one for all of the Early Voices rehearsals, but everything else was just really interesting to watch and hear.

As the week wore on though, I became less enamoured of the instruments and more enamoured of getting out of rehearsal early. Rehearsals started at 2pm from Monday to Wednesday, which generally negates doing anything in the morning, because who's going to get up early during their holiday to go do something? Wednesday morning, though, I managed to drag myself out of bed to go for yum cha with Jarrod. We call it dim sum in the States, but apparently yum cha is the Cantonese name for it. We found a small restaurant in Chinatown, and it reminded me a little bit of home. My family often went for dim sum after Chinese school on Sundays when I was still living at home, and every now and again we still go when everyone is together at home.

I had Thursday off and spent the afternoon with Corey, exploring Queen Vic Market, looking for souvenirs to bring home, then having a Glee marathon to introduce her to Gleekdom. =P We hung out at IH that night, leading to a rather nasty hangover for Friday's 11am run-through of Dido in its entirety.

Most of the rest of that weekend was spent hanging out at IH, where I spend so much time that I think people think I actually live there. (Being the International House, there are quite a few Asians and Americans, so I suppose I blend in, if nothing else!) Then classes started again in earnest first thing Monday morning.

It was a pretty normal week of classes, but it was a pretty huge dose of reality after two weeks of holidays (even if the second week was mostly spent in rehearsal)! Dido & Aeneas went up Friday evening, so Friday afternoon was spent in rehearsal, then a rushed dinner at IH and our first performance. It went incredibly well, and I'm looking forward to tomorrow's performance, which I'm sure will go equally well, if not better.

I promise I'll endeavour to update again, sooner rather than later. You can look for a Straddie post soon (it'll probably have to be the next one I write actually, since the CLC's are due in a week and I'll be at the Great Ocean Road next weekend), a footy post eventually, and the promised entry discussing the Aussie fascination with Greek life. =)

The Real World: Melbourne

So, I never got around to doing that footy post, and guess what? This isn't going to be it. I'm currently procrastinating a research plan for my policy class, and I've discovered that procrastination is even easier here than it ever was in the States, since when I'm at Denison, past a certain time of night I have no choice but to do my work because there's no-one to distract me. Whereas now that I'm on an opposite schedule from everyone at home, they can distract me late at night when my friends here are asleep (as I should be as well).

A few brief updates -- first, the last two days of Prosh Week: they were sort of a bust, to be totally honest. I burned out, which I sort of knew I might but had hoped that I wouldn't. I slept late on Thursday morning (partially because I was up so late the night before...I still haven't been sleeping all that well, to be honest), and I swung by for the Scav List drop at noon, but left shortly after that to run to a rehearsal for Vocal Ensemble and then I had my Medieval & Early Modern Music lecture, which I can't miss because Melanie (our lecturer) actually takes attendance.

Then I had rehearsal till 6:15, after which I went and spent some time helping out with Scav Hunt stuff, but I left that to go see David again after promising to return -- and seriously, finding the motivation to leave his place to go back for Scav Hunt was literally one of the top three hardest things I did that week. After going full throttle for the first three days of Prosh Week though, I guess it was more or less understandable that I was tired. I went back to help with Scav Hunt for a little while, but there wasn't that much to do because none of us wanted to get deported, and as such we didn't do anything on the black list. (Rumour has it that black list is currently on total lockdown because there were arrests and now there's a huge investigation. This is like third-hand gossip though, because I heard from Corey who heard from Andrew, so I don't have any details.)

Friday morning I was meant to do the Metcard Drop, but I was subbed out at the last minute because someone else wanted to do it and I'd stopped caring, haha. Apparently our team almost got arrested for public indecency (or something along those lines) as well, but the cop let them off. MUSEX ended up coming in last of the large teams, but we all had a fantastic time, and that's what we were really in it for.

So I slept almost all of Saturday, and spent most of the following week (this past week) recovering and getting back into the swing of things. We're pretty much at mid-term, since this past week was Week 6 and the teaching period is only twelve weeks long, so suddenly everyone is scrambling to do real work. I have one major assignment due this week (Week 7), three due next week (Week 8), break, then one due the second week after break (Week 10), and one due the week after that (Week 11). Then the teaching period will draw to a close, which is really crazy to think about.

At any rate, Friday night it was party party again, and Corey and I headed over to Perseverance, where (for those who don't keep up with me on Facebook or LiveJournal) David and I broke up. Needless to say, that was not a very good night. I'm not particularly devastated, which I suppose is a good thing, just...sort of out of whack. I mean, I did like him, and I still do, and I wouldn't mind still being with him, but if this is how things have worked out then I suppose I'm alright with that as well. It was always going to be over eventually. Of course, I was a bit -- ok, extremely -- annoyed with his poor choice in break-up timing and locale, but I did understand the fact that he didn't want to put it off, and I appreciate that for what it's worth. We had coffee Saturday afternoon to talk things over a little bit more and nothing's changed from how it ended on Friday night, but we're still friends and I was glad for the closure (and of course the fantastic coffee) somewhere that wasn't a loud club where I was distracted and caught off-guard.

But the fact remains that I've been seeing David for a month now, and I realised yesterday (well, Saturday, since it's now early Monday morning) that in that month most of my social schedule had more to do with him than anything else, which isn't really a good thing or a bad thing, just a fact. Only, the other fact is that David and I had been seeing each other since 11 August -- I'm not [totally] neurotic with dates; it was just particularly memorable because it was exactly one month after I arrived in Australia -- and that, combined with the fact that living in an apartment complex is not as conducive as a dormitory for meeting people and making friends.

So suddenly I'm faced with trying to re-establish a social life when everyone else has already done so. I will admit that this is a bit annoying. I do have friends, of course -- Arcadians, and Jarrod, of course, and MUSEX people, as well as a lot of people from IH (who are also friends with David). It's just I've sort of painted myself into a corner and it's not really his fault and it's not really my fault, it's just the way things happened.

So right now I'm less getting over him and more getting back into the way things were before him, which seems like a terribly long time ago, which in some ways I feel like it is and at the same time, the last month has disappeared so quickly I feel as though I've only been here a month at most.

At any rate, Saturday night I hung out with the Arcadians who are at University College (UC) -- Mandy, Isa, Becca, and Cassandra -- for dinner, and we talked in Becca and Cassandra's room for a while afterward. Mandy, Cassandra, and I had planned on going to a party, but instead Cassandra and I decided to go clubbing over in Fitzroy. On our way there we got sidetracked by Koko Black, which is basically a chocolate cafe. Becca, Becky, and I had had dessert there after the Carlton/Geelong match a month ago, but Cassandra hadn't been yet, so we went together and had some very decadent (and slightly expensive) chocolate and did the post-break-up commiseration that girls do.

We eventually made it over to Fitzroy, where we went back to Perseverance, which is the same club I'd been at the night prior when David broke up with me. Part of this was being cheap, because Perseverance doesn't charge a cover, and part of this was the fact that Perseverance is actually quite a good club. A large part of it was sort of a need to establish Perseverance as something other than "that club where I got broken up with."

The night was a bit of a flop. I don't know what was going on with Perseverance last night, but it was like 40-year-old mixer night or something, because the majority of the clubbers were 40+ (there was even a couple, clearly 50+, grinding on the dance floor, which was sort of like -- wow, that's fantastic for you guys, but none of us want to see it). Some guy kept staring at me, and eventually tried to get Cassandra to go dance with his friend, presumably so he could dance with me, but he wasn't attractive and came off as a bit of a douchebag. There literally was not one person there worth dancing or making out with, which was unfortunate.

But Cassandra and I had a great time dancing together, and we left the club somewhat early, shortly after that guy tried to get Cassandra to dance with his friend, and we just walked up and down Brunswick Street looking for a bar we could just sit at and talk or something, but nothing caught our eye. We eventually headed home, but the conversation and the company was wonderful, and I was glad to get out and having fun even if nothing really good happened. Girlfriends are always the best post-break-up company. Even if I wasn't particularly devastated, it was good that I wasn't alone.

I sort of wonder if this whole experience -- not just the whole thing with David, but the whole semester I'm spending here -- will become surreal once I leave. Like something that I intellectually know happened, but something that I feel so far removed from that it almost seems more like a dream. Even now I still wake up some mornings and wonder if it is a dream.

But, what's maybe most important is that I really don't regret anything that happened this past month. Two entries ago I said I didn't want to regret anything I did or didn't do, and I'm glad all of this happened. Denison is such a small bubble, with its tiny dating pool and cookie-cutter guys, and aside from being really glad that I met such a great guy and had a great time with him (even if it is over now), it was sort of a boost in self-esteem.

Not that my self-esteem was low to begin with, but after two years at a tiny school where all the guys are the same and not really my type (and there aren't enough to begin with), with summers and holidays at home where I'm stuck in the Bridgewater-Raritan rut of who I used to be, and being unable to go out and drink and be social like a "real" adult could be, I hadn't met anyone new in a long time. It's hardly an "I'm desperate" situation, but when you're in what seems like a holding pattern for so long, you start to wonder if it will ever end. Or if it's not really a holding pattern, and it's just you being unappealing. I mean, it's not as if I can't be happy without a man, but it's always nice to have one as well.

Melbourne feels more like reality than Denison or Bridgewater ever do, and it's a bit of a relief that I can meet people, and guys are interested.

So. I'm going to attempt to get my work done now so I can sleep. Rest assured that the list of post topics grows ever longer, and they're not all point-by-point recollections of what I did each day. There's one rolling around in my head about Greek life (hee!) that I hope to get written sometime this week.

"Did somebody say naked crowdsurfing?!"

It's 3am on Day 4 of Prosh Week, and I can't sleep (much like I haven't been able to sleep lately, for whatever reason -- except when passed out, of course). So what else is there to do but to update on Prosh Week shenanigans?

Prosh Week is hard to explain. There pretty much aren't even any words to try to describe what happens. There's no point, except to have fun (and maybe win as well). The week is filled with random events, some of which involve drinking, some of which are better with drinking (but during which drinking is not compulsory), all of which are ridiculously hilarious and amazing.

On Monday morning, we got decked out in our Prosh Week regalia (each team has a colour and a theme -- the MUSEX [Melbourne University Student EXchange Club, or something like that] colour is yellow and the theme is jocks and cheerleaders) and headed out to Envelopes, where each team receives a certain amount of (fake) money with which you bid on envelopes containing unknown tasks. Some (okay, a lot) involve nudity, others involve doing favours for the judges, and yet others are just plain bizarre (for instance, one of the envelopes MUSEX got was to research the history of men's shirts and hand it in to a judge). Two MUSEX guys shaved their heads, and we all were tasked with giving massages to any judge that asked.

Following Envelopes, we performed a team song and dance; ours involved a human pyramid (and my being sore the following day). Then, that afternoon, we had a huge waterfall race down the so-called "moat" on South Lawn, after which we had Afternoon Games and competed against other teams with some really random games -- bobbing for apples, eggthrowing, eating a bucketful of creme without your hands, etc. (The boyfriend won the apple-bobbing contest, but alas -- he's on the Geodudes team, not the MUSEX team.) MUSEX put on a good show and even won the Rubik's Cube competition (in which we had to do the Rubik's cube as many times as possible during the course of the afternoon...uh, we may have accomplished this by taking it apart, but whatever).

That evening was the Pub Games, competing with drinking games. I was on the MUSEX Beirut (Beer Pong) team with a Greek guy named Stathi. We won the first round and were doing pretty well in the second round, but our opponents rallied and managed to beat us. Ah well, I got some free beer out of it. =P And a good time was had by all.

I left pretty early that night; I was trying to save money (as opposed to spending it on alcohol), lol, and there wasn't a whole lot more to do unless you were on a team. I stopped by David's place and we spent some time together, but I left around 11 because he had to get some sleep for Long Drive the following morning.

Long Drive is one of the highlights of Prosh Week -- I wanted to do it, but would've been pretty useless since I'm not legal to drive in Australia. At any rate, it started at 9am Tuesday and didn't end till 9am Wednesday; it's a 24-hour drive around Victoria, completing crazy tasks whilst decked out like a rock band. The only thing about Long Drive is that it (obviously) precludes you from doing any of the Tuesday events, which includes a "Mystery Event" -- the Bachelor of Inebriation.

The Bachelor of Inebriation is a 10-hour pub crawl involving 14 bars/pubs and 14 drinking tasks (or subjects) in order for you to earn your BI; a higher degree (Master's and Ph.D) can be earned by doing "breadth" subjects that involve drinking extra alcohol. We cut the pub crawl a bit short because there was awful weather in Melbourne, skipping from pub #8 straight to Turf (which was the last pub), but I still managed to complete all of the tasks. I stumbled back to my room at around 8pm, with every intention of returning to Turf, but needing to get some food in my stomach before I died.

Instead, I passed out, woke up, puked, passed out again, woke up, crawled into bed, passed out yet again, woke around 2am, puked again, and then had a hangover. At 2am. It was pretty epic -- also, in future, I'll refrain from eating salt and vinegar potato chips whilst drinking...they burned so badly coming back up that water tasted too sweet to drink (because I don't like overly sweet things). I was trying to drink water to make the hangover less severe, but it literally tasted like I was eating sugar. Luckily though, since the hangover hit me at 2am, I went back to sleep and by the time I woke up, I was perfectly fine.

MUSEX also pulled a lecture stunt on Tuesday morning, wherein Andrew, our fearless [cheer]leader and team captain, crowdsurfed naked down a lecture theatre. We earned full points for the stunt and "Did somebody say naked crowdsurfing?!" has become like the unofficial tagline of Prosh Week. It was pretty hilarious, particularly since we crashed the Australia Now lecture, and the lecture on Tuesday was about the stolen generation of Aboriginal children. The lecturer had just finished showing a YouTube clip of Kevin Rudd's formal apology to the Aboriginal people for the stolen generation, and Andrew (who, I ought to add, is actually in that lecture) stood up (arse naked, of course) and screamed, "Did somebody say naked crowdsurfing?!" Then he just went. It was fantastic.

And that, of course, brings us to today (Wednesday). There was a nude run at 10am, which I skipped, but at noon, we had jellywrestling on South Lawn. I was the female MUSEX jellywrestler, and it was pretty ridiculous. It was rather cold outside today, and the jelly itself was cold and slimy. I went three rounds all the way to the finals, which was a three-way, since we had an uneven number of teams advancing to finals. Girl A and I teamed up on Girl B (who was bigger than both of us and had beasted all the girls she'd previously wrestled, so this was a pretty damn good idea, haha). Girl B managed to tear off my top, but was defeated in the process, and I was trying to fix my top (I was wearing a halter-top swimsuit, and not only was I hanging out, but it was caught in my hairclip and just a hot mess) when Girl A just came up and shoved me out of the pool. Somewhat annoying, but I wasn't particularly interested in winning anyway, since the winner had to wrestle one of the judges (for double points, but still, it's a judge and you don't want to offend them, lol). Besides, at that point I was exhausted and cold, so I just let it go, or else I would probably have fought it a little harder.

I'd planned on going to the boat race that immediately followed jellywrestling, but I was freezing, so I retreated to my apartment for a lovely hot shower. The slime took a lot of time to get off of me, since (as I discovered when I got in the shower) it got slimier as you added water. All in all, though, a fairly successful day. Trivia was the evening event, and I went for a while, but as I said, I haven't been sleeping well (or really at all, even), and I was tired, so I peaced out.

So, that's Prosh Week so far...the huge culminating event of the week occurs from Thursday to Friday, so we're all gearing up for that event, which is a huge Scavenger Hunt. The "white" list drops at noon, and the "black" list (which contains all of the unofficial, sort of illegal tasks) drops at midnight. I've skipped all my lectures so far, though I did attend all of my tutorials and rehearsals, but tomorrow afternoon I have two rehearsals and a lecture that I really do need to attend (since I already skipped it on Tuesday for the BI, and it's the lecture where the lecturer actually takes attendance). So I'll be missing Proshession, which is a huge fake parade down Swanston Street -- I sort of regret this, because Proshession is one of the great Prosh Week traditions, but I am still (sort of, haha) a student. And I'll probably also miss most of the white list, since I'll be in rehearsal/class from 1pm till 6:15. I might do the black list, depending on what's on it (don't want to get deported, lol). And then Friday morning there's the Metcard challenge that I'm meant to be doing, but details don't get dropped until the Scav Hunt details do.

Looking forward to the rest of the week, but I'll definitely be crashing this weekend. I need some serious downtime...for now, I'm going to try and get some sleep.

Let's Face the Music and Dance

So I haven't updated in a while -- I meant to do a post about footy shortly after the Carlton v Geelong match, but never got around to it. (Footy post will be forthcoming, though, when I do manage to get around to it.)

Life is shockingly ordinary; I go to class, I cook for myself, and I procrastinate my reading. But last weekend (Saturday 8th August) I went out with a bunch of people from International House (one of the UM residential colleges), most of whom I didn't know. Cassandra and I had meant to go out clubbing that night, but she ended up needing to work on a paper, so I texted Corey, who invited me to come over to I-House to pregame before joining them to go to Workshop, a bar down in the CBD.

The pregaming was pretty fun; we played Kings and danced to loud music before hopping a tram down to Workshop. The night that followed was only okay though, since everyone split into their own little groups and I didn't really know anyone but Corey. So I'd just started contemplating heading out (it was getting late, I was tired and not drunk enough to be able to deal with sitting around people I didn't know awkwardly) when the boy (part of the group I'd come with, but someone I hadn't met yet) sitting next to me introduced himself and we started talking.

Long story short, that was a week ago and we've been on two dates since. =) So it's been quite a lovely week -- it makes me laugh that there's past precedent for this, yet I completely didn't expect it -- in fact, actively expected that I wouldn't meet anyone. I mean, I am only here till the end of November (possibly a little bit longer, if I can manage to swing it?). And yet I don't believe in not doing things just because I'm afraid they'll get more difficult, or they'll come to an end; most things do, and it's what happens before they end that matters.

In other news, Prosh Week is coming up. It's an old University of Melbourne tradition, a week filled with fake parades, scavenger hunts, and other various drunken debauchery. (Tradition holds that it used to be the week when all the Faculty Balls were held, so it was called "Posh Week," but due to drunken students slurring words -- trust me, these balls are mainly an excuse to get dressed up and then get drunk -- it became "Prosh Week" instead..) At first I was fairly sceptical about it, but the more I hear about it, the more it seems like something that I should be involved in during my short time here.

I don't want to regret anything -- not anything I did, or even anything I didn't do. So I'm going to go for it. I'm going to go for all of it, and live it up.

Before the fiddlers have fled
Before they ask us to pay the bill
And while we still have the chance
Let's face the music and dance
...
There may be teardrops to shed
But while there's moonlight and music
And love and romance
Let's face the music and dance

Trees Full of Starlight

Out of the four days of class I have each week, only Tuesday ends before 6:15 in the evening -- I have a late tute on Mondays and rehearsal on Wednesdays and Thursdays. Nevertheless, today, rather than heading home at 3:15 after my Medieval & Early Modern Music lecture, I popped over to the computing centre to print out some (okay, more like 80) photos to put up around my bedroom.

Grateful that I'd dodged (most of) the rain, which so often comes and goes in Melbourne, I headed out of Union House to head home just before 5:30. Dusk had settled quickly over the city and brought with it a brisk chill. This morning it had felt more like autumn than winter; as I crossed Royal Parade 9 hours later, it was definitely a winter evening. It was just cold enough that I wondered if I could see my breath -- a bit of a novelty for me, since it is August and traditionally very hot. I let out a long exhale to see if I could spot any wisps of breath, but alas. Not quite that cold (yet). The streetlights, the headlights of passing cars, even the lights from the trams were dancing over the still-wet pavement, glinting here and there in shades of peach and champagne.

I've never lived in an actual city. Bridgewater is technically a township, and it's mainly highways anyway, so I would never even think of walking anywhere except maybe down the street to a friend's house or maybe across 202 for a popular event at either North Branch or Duke Island Park. Granville is even smaller -- it's actually a village. I can walk anywhere I need, which is really only up and down Broadway to the CVS or maybe, if I'm feeling adventurous, down to the IGA for some groceries.

Sure, I go to New York City often when I'm home, and generally go to Columbus a few times a semester, so I know my way around a city. I know how to hail a cab, how to use the subway. I know how to get to Central Park, or Times Square, which way is uptown and which way is downtown. But actually living in a city presents a curious dichotomy between being surrounded by people all the time, yet being very, very alone.

It's always an interesting experiment to smile at or say hello to someone you don't know, have never seen before in your life, and will never see again. In New York, if you get a reaction at all, it will be an odd look and then they'll be gone forever -- a brief moment of interaction between two human beings, and yet not really any interaction at all. I haven't tried it yet in Melbourne, but something hopeful inside me says that maybe I'll get a few smiles back. Certainly they're far more open and willing to approach or even help out strangers; the other day a man on a bicycle asked me if I knew where Grattan Street was and how to get there (always a nice ego boost, since Grattan is one of the few streets I do know!). When I first arrived in Melbourne, my friends and I occasionally stopped people on the street to ask directions and they were always very friendly.

At any rate, I haven't had to ask directions in a while -- my daily commute to and from uni wasn't difficult to begin with, and has become even easier in the last week and a half or so. I always pass by a few hospitals on Royal Parade (or perhaps just many buildings of one hospital) between RMIT Village and UM, and they're always busy, regardless of what time it is. First thing in the morning, heading to classes, in the middle of the day, popping back to the apartment for lunch, walking home from class or rehearsal in the evenings, and even late at night on a run to the bottle shop across from Trinity College. There are always people coming in and out -- visitors, paramedics, all sorts of people.

But there's one woman that I see constantly -- nearly every time I walk by, as a matter of fact. She's outside the Royal Melbourne Hospital in a garishly pink robe and fuzzy slippers clearly not meant to be worn outside a building. She's older, probably in her 50s or early 60s, with hair that's dyed a burgundy red and roots that need to be retouched. All of this aside, perhaps what is most obvious is that she is always alone, smoking a cigarette, and never smiling. In fact, it's not even that she looks particularly unpleasant; just on the older side and a bit eccentric, and she strikes me as being very resigned to her fate, whatever it is.

I wonder about her. What's her story, where is her family? In the short week and a half I've been here, she's become a fixture on my daily walks. Is she, likewise, a fixture at the hospital? Or will I stop seeing her in a week or two? Why is she always alone, and why is she at the hospital to begin with? How many times does she come outside to smoke each day? I see her so often on some days that I wonder if she's gone in at all, or if she's just been sitting out there, smoking one cigarette after another, all day long.

Tonight she was sitting alone on the bench again, puffing away at her ever-present cigarette, a look of intense concentration on her face as she took slow drags, examining her pink robe in the rapidly dimming light. I'd known she was there before I could be sure it was her -- the smell of cigarette smoke seemed to carry better in the cold air. She was even more alone than usual. Normally there are other people milling about the bench where she sits, but tonight it had gotten dark very quickly, and combined with the rain it seemed like a good guess that most of them were inside. It was cold; I'd misjudged the weather myself, finding myself wearing only a (fairly warm, but not warm enough) rugby shirt and jeans. These last few days I'd been dressing warmly only to find out as soon as I stepped outside that I didn't need a jacket or even really a jumper; though the camisole inside was too thin for me to be able to take off the jumper, a t-shirt would have sufficed. Today I'd grossly miscalculated; I was underdressed in anticipation of it being warmer than I expected, when in fact it turned out to be just as cold as I thought it might be, and then some.

I wanted to stop and say something, to ask her name. She looked cold. Her robe definitely didn't seem thick enough for her to be out in the cold drizzly evening.

But she sat there, resolutely puffing away, picking at her robe, and I walked on, surrounded by people and yet feeling very alone, on this cold Melbourne evening.

Ordinary People

Last night, at some point whilst I scrubbed at the stove range with steel wool and Lysol wipes, it fully sank in that I live here. Here, at 5-17 Flemington Road, North Melbourne, Victoria, Australia. Here, in Australia. In Melbourne.

I go to class, I buy groceries, I make dinner every night. I have friends over, and I clean and live my life in my little apartment surrounded by a culture I don't fully understand yet and many, many thousands of people that I do not know.

It occurred to me, as I idly watched the Ashes (for the uninformed, the Ashes are a huuuge cricket tournament between England and Australia. Huge deal around here) and chatted with friends from home, that this is not just some glorified vacation. I had hoped that this weekend would be a little more exciting than it turned out to be; I happen to be of the opinion that the first weekend of term will either be a lot of fun or completely boring, with no middle ground. Certainly I've noticed that most people take one of two stances: (1) "Crap, classes have started and now I need to be a serious student!" or (2) "Fuckk, you mean I actually have to do work? Let's get drunk to commiserate."

We all know which one I wanted to do. After all, I am in Australia, and we are legal to drink here, and, whilst I do honestly enjoy my classes, I'd rather go out with my friends (even if we don't necessarily drink or get drunk) and have a good weekend than sit around at my desk mucking through hundreds of pages of reading.

But it struck me just now as I stood under the water for my four-minute shower that this is my life. Yeah, I should live it up, but I'm here for another four months. There will be plenty of opportunities for having fun.

And all in all, this weekend wasn't so bad. I have no Friday lectures or tutes, so I de facto have a three-day weekend every week. Jarrod came over Thursday night to watch True Beauty (and by watch, I mean mock), eat pizza, and do tequila shots out of plastic shotglasses lined with fruit roll-ups, and the next morning we lazed around the apartment, eating pancakes and muffins and generally wasting time. Hey, not the most productive of days, but a good time with good company nonetheless. After he left, I made dinner for myself and watched the Ashes and caught up with some friends back home. Saturday was similarly spent sleeping in (and I do mean really sleeping in -- like 2pm sleeping in), watching movies, chatting online, and eating leftovers. I cleaned the kitchen for a while; it's probably cleaner now than it has been in a few terms. Then I reorganised my half of the pantry and made a shopping list of things I need to go get. I even managed to get some writing done. This morning, a bunch of the Arcadians came over for a potluck brunch and we had a great time sitting around chatting in my kitchen. It's not the most exciting life, but it's by no means a bad one, either.

Not to mention I've got four more months of this life. Not every weekend can be the all-out, get drunk, go dancing sort of crazy fun. Lazy weekends are fun too. Studying abroad is meant to give you all sorts of learning experiences aside from just purely academic ones. You learn to adapt to a new culture, a new lifestyle.

I've been so concerned with having a good time that I missed the part where I'm doing something that's really, truly amazing -- I'm making a life for myself in a place that, a year ago, I'd only really dreamed about going. I'm living fully on my own, meeting amazing people, and getting to know an amazing city and country.

It's been a great weekend. =)

"No Worries"

One of the best things about Australia is what I've taken to calling the Aussie state of mind. You know the one I'm talking about, where they call everyone "mate" and instead of saying "you're welcome," they say "no worries." Combined with the accent, listening to conversations down here is just so relaxing.

See, I like schedules. I like to know where I'm going, when I'm going, with whom I'm going, how I'm getting there, what I'll be doing once I get there, and when I'll be leaving. In the States, things are hectic like that. I could have my day planned down to the minute because if I wasn't at this class or that club, I had to go to this rehearsal or that meeting, or maybe even both at once.

But part of this whole experience is the beauty of a new start. I'm not in any clubs (yet), I have friends that I like to go out with, but not every night, and I'm basically free to be as social or antisocial as I like. I have a social life, but it's not quite as jam-packed as it was last semester, or even during the summer when I worked all day, every day, and then went out for a late coffee with friends before rinsing and repeating.

We don't make plans here. A "plan" here is a text from Mara saying "hey, we're making dinner, want to come over?" or a Tuesday afternoon e-mail from Mitch wondering if anyone wants to go see The Hangover in four hours. I mean, I occasionally did spontaneous things whilst I was at Denison, but here I would say that roughly 80% of social activities are arranged less than 12 hours in advance, and more or less on a whim. And when things go wrong, as they sometimes do, no-one freaks out. For instance, when a large contingent of us headed down to Melbourne Central, on Tuesday evening and discovered that not only were tickets $18, not $10, but that the movie was sold out and it was the last showing of the evening, we just sat down on an s-shaped bench and chatted. For an hour and a half. Then we strolled back to RMIT Village, stopping for popcorn along the way, and hung out talking in the courtyard for another half an hour or so.

It's a nice change of pace, most certainly. I feel as though firstly, the movie thing would never have happened in the States with my friends there; we would have checked the movie, and possibly pre-ordered tickets, and if it had still happened, we certainly wouldn't have found a bench and sat down to chat for an hour and a half before leisurely strolling home.

But I do like to stay occupied at least part of the time. So on Wednesday I auditioned for the University of Melbourne Early Voices Ensemble. They're putting on Dido and Aeneas this semester, and since they've offered me (and I've accepted) a spot in their Alto section, presumably this means that I will be in an opera this semester. Furthermore, I auditioned for the Vocal Ensemble on Thursday, and they've tentatively offered me a spot (the director apparently isn't sure my voice will blend well with the rest of the ensemble), so hopefully that will go forward as well.

It turns out I won't be able to take voice lessons through the University (not enough room in my course load), so I do have to look for a voice teacher now, as well as a job. But my cold is more or less gone, the homesickness has begun to abate, and I feel like I'm finally settling into this city and this new lifestyle.

So all I'll say is no worries -- I have faith that everything will work itself out.

"Toto, I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore."

Now that I'm fully moved into my apartment and no longer living out of a suitcase, I am a bit more comfortable in this city where the overwhelming feeling of not belonging overtakes me many hours of the day. I'm certainly not alone in this feeling; hundreds, if not thousands, of international students overtake this city and my new university each semester hoping to find adventure, unique experiences, and friends that might last them a lifetime.

I sort of resisted it at first, but I'll admit it: I'm homesick. I still love this city, and everyone is fabulous and my new friends are great, but it's little things, like not having my mug to drink my tea with. And the fact that I can't get any of my favourite cereals, and having to sleep in this small bed with unfamiliar bed linens and unfamiliar pillows and a giant stuffed wombat. (Okay, so the wombat part is cool, because I love my stuffed wombat, but other than that.) And needing an adapter in order to use any of my electronics from home is just annoying. Despite the exchange rate, some stuff is disgustingly expensive -- vitamins, for instance. And alcohol (which is fine, I guess. Hopefully it will curb my spending on booze, haha). The list goes on. There are some fantastic things about Australia, but I have a cold and an audition tomorrow and at this point I wouldn't mind going home so much. (Well, that's a lie. I might be a little unhappy once I realised I'd made a terrible choice.)

It's not that I'm really that unhappy here; far from it -- simply that some of the little things are starting to get to me. I really am having the time of my life meeting new people and discovering this different culture, and every time I see the University of Melbourne crest emblazoned on a building, I'm just awestruck by the fact that four years after I first decided I wanted to come here, I'm finally here. Although I wouldn't give up my time at Denison for anything, I can say with certainty that, had I enrolled at the University of Melbourne when I graduated in 2007, I would not have regretted that decision.

It's simply that though I feel as though I will eventually be able to call this city home, it's not home yet.

I know I've been a bit remiss in updating, but these last few weeks have been extremely hectic. (In fact, for a while I was more stressed than I had been since I got here due to some scheduling issues. They ended up being resolved fairly easily after several rounds of e-mail tag with Yadi Collins, the registrar at Denison.)

But here's a quick rundown:

The Arcadia group arrived, exhausted and jet-lagged, in the Brisbane airport around 6am on a Saturday morning. We sent most of our baggage to a storage unit and boarded a bus for Caloundra, a small, lovely beach town on the Sunshine Coast. Everything was strange at first. Gas was called petrol, and natural gas was called gas. Ketchup is tomato sauce here, and tomato sauce (the sort that you put on pasta) is called tomato paste. Not to mention that we were driving on the "wrong" side of the road and every time the driver turned, we felt like we might crash into another car if it happened to be driving on the "right" side of the road. And I'm sure you can imagine how frightening it was every time one of us glanced out a window and saw the passenger seat of a car empty, since the driver's seat is on the right here, as opposed to the left.

At any rate, we arrived in Caloundra without incident, and the last thing we wanted to do was get orientated. Really what most of us wanted to do was crawl into a bed and sleep. Alas, no such luck. Three days of morning-till-night orientation followed, with a jam-packed schedule to keep us all awake so we could try and defeat the jet lag. We tried vegemite, learned Australian slang, learned to play cricket and footy, and visited Steve Irwin's Zoo to pet koalas, feed kangaroos, and see first-hand all of the unique animals that live in Australia.

Although it's winter here, Caloundra (which is on the Sunshine Coast) is farther north and thus closer to the equator. It was warm enough to go for a dip in the ocean (although not at sunrise. I did it and it is not advisable, no matter how amusing it was at the time -- whatever, it was my second poor life choice of many down here in Oz) and I wore tank tops and shorts through the few days we stayed in Caloundra. The hotel where Arcadia put us up was lovely; we were in apartment-style rooms, and ours even had a balcony. Mine overlooked the beach, and every morning when I woke up I could hear the waves crashing on the shore.

On Tuesday 14, we got up and boarded the bus back to the Brisbane airport, where we left Lyndon and Cam, our orientation leaders, to fly on to Melbourne. We arrived in Melbourne that afternoon, and after a brief mishap trying to find the man who was meant to pick us up (he wasn't there, and when we finally found him, he was not carrying the "green ToGoTo sign" that we'd been told he'd be carrying. As for us, a large group of lost American uni students couldn't have been that hard to spot, and we sort of assume he was a bit late), we were off to the University of Melbourne for -- you guessed it -- another orientation, this time "Melbourne Welcome," run by UM students to help us learn our way around the city.

We "Arcadians" (as we've named ourselves, despite the fact that none of us actually attend Arcadia University) were split up, some, myself included, headed for Trinity College and some for Janet Clarke. We went to dinner and then more or less headed back to our rooms to take advantage of free internet (finally) and a bed. There was a toga party that evening; I was just too tired to go, but many of us did head over.

The following morning, a good number of us slept in. It was nice not to have to get up at 7am for breakfast (I don't even need to get up at 7am for uni!), and later that morning, a bunch of us headed over to Lygon Street to do some shopping and check out mobile phone plans. We ate packed lunches sitting on benches by the sports oval at the uni, and then Becky, Sophie, and Jordan headed back out to do some shopping.

Instead of heading back out, I met up with Jarrod (happy now?! You got a blog mention) that afternoon to go see HP6. The film was pretty decent (by which I mean I'm more or less glad I paid to see it in theatres, but it wasn't good enough that I would pay to see it a second time), but finally meeting him was definitely the highlight of the day -- that, or buying Tim Tams at Woolworth's. (Kidding! We have to try and keep the size of your ego in check, though. =P)

We caught the tram down to Melbourne Central, which is more or less a huge mall not terribly far from my apartment, but a bit farther from Trinity College, since Trinity's a bit farther north than RMIT Village. It was my first time on a tram, which is more or less an above-ground subway system; the Melbourne tram system is fairly extensive, and the trams have dedicated lanes on the road. This means two things: first, that crossing the street (and the "Roundabout of Death," as we've nicknamed the roundabout outside RMIT Village) is way more dangerous. Secondly, trams run more or less on schedule, even during rush hour or in traffic jams, since cars generally don't drive on them. Emergency vehicles are apparently allowed to drive on the tram lane, though, so it's actually quite useful.

After the movie, Jarrod and I walked back to Trinity together and talked for a while before he headed home for the evening and I got ready for the Laneway bar tour.

The Laneway bars are an interesting bunch of bars well-hidden in the CBD (I think that stands for Central Business District? Not sure though -- it's essentially the city centre). Most of them are hidden in back alleys, and they have a cosy, unique atmosphere. Drinks are expensive here in Oz, but since I'm a girl (and an "any alcohol is good alcohol" kind of girl, at that) it's less of a problem. ;-) The first bar, Sister Bella, we visited was in a random back alley, around some dumpsters, and up a flight of stairs. Section 8 was the second bar, located in an old car park, with lots of couches and heat lamps to make you feel like you're inside although you're not really. Manchuria, the third bar, was a bit more like a bar/lounge, with Asian-inspired decor and cushy (but very classy!) furniture. Finally, we hit Escobar to end the evening and give their business a bit of a boost (it was a Wednesday evening, after all). I was more or less very drunk by the end of the night, so I ducked outside and chatted with the bouncers (haha, I know, I'm so classy) until a few girls decided to leave and I left with them.

I finally got a phone on Thursday (well, just a SIM card, since my phone works here); again, I skipped all of the daytime activities...as nice as it was of Arcadia to sign us up for Melbourne Welcome, I was definitely all orientated out, and not in the mood to get up at 8am and run around the city all day on tours I didn't particularly want to do. Although I sort of did want to do the Thursday morning activities (a tour of the CBD, with a visit to the Eureka Skydeck and Federation Square), I slept in instead. That afternoon, I got my phone set up -- definitely a huge weight off my shoulders (I don't like to be disconnected, as many of you probably know).

Thursday evening was a formal dinner at Trinity, so we got to experience formal dinner as it occurs multiple times a week during term-time at almost all of the residential colleges. Traditionally, students and professors attending formal dinner wear academic gowns. Since we didn't have any, we just dressed nicely (business casual, more or less). They served a lovely dinner, complete with wine, in what some of us have taken to calling the "Hogwarts room." (It's true, the Trinity dining hall does look a bit like the Great Hall, complete with long tables and a head table where the professors sit.)

The next day, I got my 15 minutes of Aussie fame. Someone knocked on my door, probably around 9 or 10am, and asked if I would mind letting them use my door for shooting an episode of the Aussie TV series Rush, which is a police drama. They told me they were going to kick open my door (they close and lock automatically, so they put a wood block in to prop it open), but no-one mentioned the crossbow! So I'm sitting at my desk and this guy kicks open my door pointing a crossbow at me. Since he wasn't expecting anyone to be in the room, he was about as shocked as I was, haha. But one of the women working on the show (I can only assume she was an assistant producer or something), Pia, came in and sat with me and we had a lovely chat about St Kilda and vegemite.

Ten minutes and two or three takes later, I've become an extra! I and a few other extras (I think all of them were professionals, actually) got to run up and down the halls of Trinity screaming as we flee from the guys with crossbows. It was a lot of fun, and everyone was so nice. I didn't get to meet any of the stars of the show, but it was definitely an experience! Pia also invited me to eat lunch with them, so I got to meet the two guys with crossbows and the other extras over lunch. The episode airs in October, so we're definitely planning on having a viewing party. =)

With all the excitement of the morning overwith, Sophie and I (yes, Sophie and Sophia, I know) headed down to RMIT Village Old Melbourne, the apartment complex where we're going to spend the next five months or so. We checked ourselves in and began moving into our apartments. My roommate is a Swede who's going to RMIT this semester; her name is Lina (I still can't pronounce it, embarrassingly -- I'm sure you know how it's pronounced in English, but it's not pronounced the same way in Swedish!), and she's very nice and easygoing.

Then, that night, we attended the footy match between the Essendon Bombers and the Western Bulldogs at Etihad Stadium. Footy is a lot of fun to watch -- I definitely find it way more interesting than American football, and that particular match was quite good. (I'll be going to see Carlton v Geelong next Friday, and they're supposed to be quite good, so I'm pretty excited about that as well!) I might do a more detailed explanation of footy at some other time...too lazy now. =P

Finally, on Saturday morning we moved out of our temporary homes in Trinity and I got to fully unpack my suitcases at RMIT Village. My room is lovely, and a bit on the small side, but definitely functional. There's no oven, but there's a small stove range and a microwave and a fridge that's just big enough to fit Lina's and my food. (Did you know that the refrigerator was invented in Australia? Clearly, this is why there's such a high incidence of skin cancer -- no ozone layer. =P)

Mara had a bunch of us (RMITers and even those of us staying in residential colleges) over her room for pasta and drinks that night, and that turned into a fun evening of playing loud 90s music and Never Have I Ever. Jarrod joined us (yet another mention! What is the world coming to?) later, as did some random other people who randomly wandered into the party, and standing out on the balcony drinking and chatting with friends new and old was just so relaxing and nice. You can see how I'd forget that I actually have to go to class, haha.

Most of last week was more or less settling in and spending too much money trying to get the apartment set up and liveable, nothing exciting enough for a blog entry -- a few RMIT Village orientation parties and activities and a few UM administrative things, but mostly just settling in.

Classes began yesterday (two days ago? Well, it's almost 1am Wednesday morning, so take that as you like). So far they're fantastic; I love the UM campus, and the lecture/tutorial system is awesome because you don't really need to go to lecture (although I do plan on it anyway). They're large lectures -- all of my lectures are over 100 people, and some way more than that -- and most (if not all) of them are posted online instead. Really, it's your tutorial attendance that really counts.

This semester I'm taking four classes: Biomedical Ethics, Public Policy Making (Australian policy, not just general policy), Political Philosophy, and Medieval & Early Modern Music. It's a nice distribution; the former two are MW classes, with Monday tutes, and the latter two are TR classes, with Tuesday tutes. So really I could skive off my Wednesday and Thursday lectures and have a five-day weekend, since I already have Fridays off. I certainly don't plan on skipping all those lectures (what would I do with myself with all that spare time?! We all know I don't entertain myself that well, haha), but it's nice to know that I would be able to without being penalised, as opposed to only being able to miss a few classes at Denison before having my grade knocked down.

I'm also going to be auditioning for private voice lessons soon, and tomorrow (well, today) evening I'll be auditioning for the Early Voices Ensemble. I'm still sick, but I haven't spoken a word in hours (and we all know that's a lot for me) and I've been drinking hot tea like there's no tomorrow. So hopefully my voice and my cold will be better in the morning, particularly with a good warm-up.

At any rate, I'm going to wrap it up now -- I know no-one read this whole thing, but it's okay; my own fault for saving it all for one huuuge post, anyway. I will do my best to update more regularly, but my first priority right now is probably job hunting. Ah, me. No-one said that Australia was going to cost money.

Amazing Things That Have Happened Thus Far

Okay, so I've been in Australia for about five days now. Highlights thus far:

-- Feeding kangaroos at the Australian Zoo
-- Petting koalas (again at the Australian Zoo)
-- Seeing Bindi Irwin posters everywhere (at the Australian Zoo); actually, this was less a highlight and more a bit creepy, but slightly amusing nonetheless
-- Seeing wombats, which are my new favourite animal (again, of course, at the Zoo)
-- Signing up to go to the Great Barrier Reef for a week at the end of September
-- Being able to jump into the Pacific Ocean for a swim in the middle of winter
-- The Aussie TV show Rush filming outside of Trinity College (where I'm staying right now)
-- An awesome currency exchange rate =P

At any rate, I'm off to do fun and amazing things. More comprehensive update to come later.

[-1] 20: The Magic Number

One of the most common questions that people ask me when they find out I'm going to Australia is "how long is the flight?" To be honest, until about ten minutes ago, I didn't know. And upon further contemplation, I've come to the conclusion that I don't really care, nor do I think it's an important piece of information to have. Useful, perhaps, but not important.

With the time difference, I will depart Thursday evening (New York time, so Eastern Daylight Savings Time) and arrive Saturday morning (Brisbane/Melbourne time, which is Australian Eastern Standard Time). To me, the total duration of the actual flight matters less, for two main reasons:

1. I'm stuck on the plane for however long it is. It's not as if I can get a faster flight if I think the flight duration is too long, or a slower flight because I like sitting on planes so much. And since I'll most likely be sleeping for most of the flight (almost half, if not more -- I can sleep for a long time when there's no sunlight streaming through my window to wake me up!), it's not as if I'll be counting the hours/minutes, either.

2. If I know my departure time and arrival time, that's all that really matters. When I get on the plane I will set my watch to the local time in my destination, so theoretically at that point (if I cared) I could figure out how long I'd be on the plane, without having to worry about working in the time difference. Since I'll be arriving in Brisbane at 6am, I'll plan on going to sleep by, say, 9 or 10pm (Brisbane time) on the plane to help minimise the effects of jet lag. (Yes, a bit early, but I find it difficult to sleep through descent and landing, so I'd effectively be getting up at 5am.)

But for those who are interested to know, the total duration of my two flights (JFK to LAX and LAX to BNE) is approximately 20 hours, with a layover of about an hour at LAX. So my total travel time will be nearly a full 24 hours, especially if you count checking in and going through security at JFK, etc. However, I'll lose all of Friday the 10th (sorry to anyone whose birthday I'm going to miss =P) between travelling and the time difference. (On the upside, I'll get to live November 28th twice when I return!) So there's a bit of fun maths for you.

In other news, it's been a bit peculiar saying goodbye to people. It feels different than our usual goodbyes at the end of the summer -- perhaps because I'm going to miss half the time we would usually have to spend together. It feels more like saying goodbye between senior year of high school and freshman year of uni, which makes sense in a way. Still, I think it's sort of interesting how my being in Melbourne makes me feel like I'll be so very far away from my friends here -- which I will be, but it's not as if I can just pick up and visit them when I'm at uni in Ohio, either. The physical difference is greater, yes, but the mental/emotional difference seems like it should be the same. But these goodbyes seem so much more final, as if I'll never see my friends again, which is silly, because I know I'll come home to them when the semester is over.

I should add that I haven't begun packing yet. This is going to be a fun couple of days.

For anyone who's confused by the countdown in my subject lines, that's the countdown of full days between now and midnight on Thursday. Even though I leave Thursday evening, I'll have to check in by 5pm at latest, and braving traffic to get to JFK airport is not exactly a breeze, so Thursday will pretty much be all travelling.

[-4] Happy 4th!

I returned last night from Florida, which was a nice getaway before heading to Australia. Which, in and of itself, I suppose is more or less a getaway also. It occurs to me that it hasn't really struck me yet that I'll be taking classes and otherwise being scholarly once I'm there, and I suppose it won't until I (at least) have finalized my schedule. It's more or less been confirmed that I'll be taking Music History I and II concurrently this semester, but other than that, I'll supposedly be taking two Political Science courses that haven't yet been confirmed.

However, aside from that, the majority of the logistical issues have been straightened out. My visa came through with no problem, and I received the scholarship I applied for ($1,372, which is a somewhat random number -- but money is money). It's not that huge, but since my Denison scholarship doesn't go with me to Australia ($15,000/year), anything helps. It'll certainly at least help me cover groceries and such.

My housing has also been confirmed: I will be living for the semester in an apartment (presumably alone) at RMIT Village, which is a lovely apartment complex, complete with pool and workout facilities, not too far from the University. They're hosting an Orientation Week filled with events designed to help residents get to know each other, but I haven't decided yet if I want to participate. It costs $30AUD, which includes the cost of a t-shirt. It's not that $30AUD (approximately $24USD) is that much of an expense, I just don't know that I'm going to be interested in the activities they've planned. There's a "nightlife tour" which I assume will involve barhopping/clubs, which I genuinely am interested in, but the chances that the cost of drinks, etc is included in the Orientation fee are slim to none. There are also a few parties (including a theme party) that might be fun, but the movie night, the trivia night, and the sports day (no-one could ever claim that I was an athletic person) don't really interest me that much. I do want to get to know my fellow residents and make friends, but that week is probably going to be my main week for jobhunting, too. They also want the payment now, which is a little annoying because it's not like I can hop over there and hand them cash or swipe my credit card; I would have to send them credit card information via e-mail, and I'm not 100% positive I'm comfortable with that.

At any rate, here's what my schedule looks like so far for the next few weeks (all times local to where I am):

4/7 - 9/7: packing, work, etc
9/7: last day stateside; early dinner in the city; 19:10-22:10 flight JFK to LAX; 23:20 depart LAX for BNE
11/7: 06:10 arrive BNE
11/7 - 14/7: orientation in Caloundra
14/7: 11:55-14:20 flight BNE to MEL
14/7 - 18/7: Melbourne Welcome (University of Melbourne)
20/7 - 25/7: Orientation (RMIT Village)
27/7: first day of term (University of Melbourne)

So, the next few days will be extremely busy for sure, and then I'll be leaving! I'm extremely, extremely excited, but at the same time, I'm having that "I'm basically moving to another country for five months" freak-out right about now, and packing certainly doesn't help; anyone who knows me knows I'm a terrible overpacker. It's okay though, I will get everything condensed down to two suitcases in the end. I always do. And I'm determined to leave some space for the stuff I will inevitably accumulate in Australia, of course. (Whether or not this will actually happen is a different story entirely, but I'm hopeful.)

So. Hurray for amazing experiences that are about to begin -- and happy 4th to anyone in the US!

[-23] Woke Up This Morning -- I Suddenly Realised...

Okay, I'll start this off with something relevant: my Confirmation of Enrolment (CoE for short, which is a document from the school -- the University of Melbourne, in this case -- confirming that I am indeed going to be studying at their institution for such and such a period of time. This is required to apply for my visa) finally arrived in my e-mail inbox yesterday. Fantastic. So I applied for my visa this afternoon (finally) and am waiting on the decision. I'm actually freaking out right now because I'm nervous I didn't fill it out correctly; it didn't ask for the provider code on my CoE, which I sort of expected it to ask for since the e-mail that came with the CoE specifically pointed out where the provider code was...

In other good news, I made bank yesterday [Sunday] on a swing, which is a double shift. I got double-tipped twice on large gratuities, and walked out at the end of a 10-hour shift with $200 in my pocket, which would have been $250 had I not had to tip out. I've officially made the $1,000 that I wanted to make for Australia and then some, and ahead of schedule, too. To celebrate, I gave up my AM shift tomorrow and instead am going to spend the day cleaning/unpacking from school/packing for Florida. I wanted to go down the shore, but no-one else is available.

Anyway. Apparently tipping isn't customary in Australia (as far as I can tell from my research, which consisted of approximately an hour on Google), but of course it is in the United States. Which is where the topic of today's post (read: rant) comes in.

It is a well-accepted fact in the service industry that sometimes you will meet bad tippers. In fact, sometimes, you will meet awful tippers, and even people who play the fun game of "Dine 'N' Dash" -- which, for the more decent people among us who have never heard of this so-called game, is a somewhat awful (and possibly illegal, I'm not sure) pastime in which people eat at a restaurant and then leave without paying their bill, thereby sticking their poor server with the bill, which is often quite large. (Last summer a FAMILY of five dashed on their bill of $120 at one of my tables. I was shocked and upset. What a wonderful example to set for your children.) And sometimes you meet great tippers.

Look, my views probably differ from many people's views regarding tipping for poor service. I always tip, even if the service is poor. $2.13/hr (which is what I get paid in NJ) is not something to which I would subject even the worst server, even if the service was really that abysmal. I still think you should always tip at least 10%. Tipping is an odd beast because it's sort of compulsory, but sort of not. Supposedly it's to reward great service. But it's become so customary that the government (and the industry) thinks it's fine to only pay servers $2.13/hr and expect them to make up the difference between that and "real" minimum wage ($7.15/hr or something -- I haven't worked for "real" minimum wage in a long time, and it differs state-to-state I think, though there is a federal baseline) via tips.

However, a few things I take offence with:

1. The generalisation that all servers are women. Furthermore, that (as one particularly intelligent YouTube commenter wrote) one should be "lucky enough" to get a "waitress who thinks the world owes her and her three fatherless children." Excuse me. I am getting a college education at one of the best liberal arts universities in the nation. I have no children, "fatherless" or otherwise, and I am trying to make a living here. I can't say anything for how good or bad of a server I am, but since I've been serving for two years now and I've been in the restaurant industry for nearly three, at least I haven't been fired yet, and trust me, my restaurant fires bad servers. Many of my coworkers are not only not women (i.e. men), and have B.A.s or Master's degrees. For many of them, serving is their second or third job, a supplementary income.

2. Treating servers like they're your servants. I am an intelligent human being (we can argue test scores and IQs some other time). I'm sure you have to deal with people in your job, regardless of what it is. Do you enjoy being treated like crap just because the person treating you like crap is the one who writes your paycheque? No? Then don't treat me that way either. Expecting good service is fine. Expecting me to do backflips for your entertainment is not.

3. Being ignorant to the fact that I really do only get paid $2.13/hr, and, worse yet, not caring if/when you find out. Furthermore, you might be surprised to realise that I never actually see that $4.26 for those two hours I worked. I do have to declare my tips, and the taxes you get deducted from your paycheque get deducted from my paycheque as well. Since I leave with my tips at the end of the night, I occasionally get a "white cheque", which is basically a $0 paycheque -- because there was nothing left after taxes were taken out of it. You might say that it was my choice to work a job that pays a low hourly. Fine, that's a valid point. But if no-one was willing to work a job with a low hourly, no-one would be around to put up with your bullshit, or to feed you when you don't feel like cooking.

4. Likewise, being ignorant to the fact that many servers (myself included) have to tip out of their SALES (not their tips, since those numbers can be changed easily and aren't really dependable anyway) to hosts, bussers, and other untipped staff who partially depend on tip-out to make a living wage. So if you don't tip me, that means I have to pay money out of my own pocket to put up with your bullshit. Fan-fucking-tastic.

5. Not understanding that a restaurant is a business. This sort of follows up to the points above. Look, if restaurants couldn't depend on tips to help them pay their servers, their hosts, their bussers, their service bartenders (for restaurants that have them, the service bartender is a bartender who spends his/her shift making drinks only for servers. They often don't get a cut of the tips that the rest of the bar makes, and the servers often tip out to them for their services), etc, then all of those people would have to be paid much higher wages -- "real" minimum wage at best, possibly higher. What does this mean? This means that each dish has to cost more money in order for the restaurant to stay out of the red. For the guest, this means that their checks are going to start being much higher. I'm sure you'll be pleased to know that.

I just don't understand the idea some people have that not tipping is okay. I realise that serving isn't rocket science -- I know, because I am a server. It doesn't exactly take a genius to be a good server, but it does take a lot of work, even if you don't think that person gave good service. I would never presume to say your job was easy unless I'd done it myself. And even then I would never say you didn't deserve to be paid for your labour, no matter how poor a job you did. That's basically what you say when you don't leave me a tip. So I'd like to see you work a shift in my restaurant and then tell me you couldn't spare at least a dollar or two. If the service was that bad, you should say something to a manager, rather than just not leaving a tip. All that does is make the server think you were a total ass (which they might think anyway, to be honest, but at least you were a constructive ass), and perpetuate poor service. Furthermore, if you can afford a $50 meal, you can at least afford $5 more to tip me; and if you can't, you shouldn't be eating out.

The system sucks, okay? That busser who never bussed a single table of mine? I hate tipping out to him. And my poor server friend who was sick yet couldn't call out of work because she needed the money might have a terrible day because she was puking between taking care of her tables, and then she might be unable to make rent or buy groceries because she didn't make as much in tips as she needed to -- that's awful. Especially considering the rich guy at her table who didn't leave a tip can take a day or two off work to hang out with his kids and still make the same six-digit salary at the end of the year as he would have if he hadn't taken off those days. That's not fair either.

It's certainly not the guest's fault that the system could be better. Whatever happened to the "golden rule"? I'm not any less worthy of respect just because I'm a server, am I? If so, there's something wrong with the world. If not, then why, when I put on my uniform shirt and an apron, do people think it's okay to treat me like crap, to snap their fingers at me like I'm a dog and make rude comments bordering on sexual harrassment? I'm not asking you to surprise that server who gave crappy service with a 200% tip. All I'm asking is for you to show a little humanity; after all, what goes around comes around.

And, even if you don't feel like it sometimes,
we're all in this together.