Six months in
I’ve been on mid-year university break for give or take three weeks now.
I had resolved that this period would be one of extreme (nay dangerous) efficiency; I was going to draw everyday, paint all the patiently waiting skulls that guilt me in their prepped and primed state and also make some delightful ceramic things (hazy on the detail even in my mind) and not be at all terrified of the glaze mixing process (spoiler: I am regularly terrified by the glaze mixing process).
Of course, by the very choice of the past tense you can probably tell that it hasn’t really played out like that. I mean, I did do some drawing. And I painted a few skulls (see above for proof of production). But I haven’t touched clay. Not since I had time to kill after interviewing at a bar on campus a little over two weeks ago.
Honestly, it’s just been too cold to want to.
It’s been so cold here in Canberra that sometimes I wear gloves to type. I currently have a hot water bottle actually shoved up under the three jumpers I am wearing as I write this so that there is a constant trickle of warmth back into my body. The idea of touching anything that doesn’t generate it’s own warmth, anything that might try and steal my meagre hoarding of it, is such a turn off as to be a complete deal breaker.
In keeping then with my new found heat obsession, I’ve been doing a reasonable amount of intestate travel, testing the hypothesis that it doesn’t matter which direction you go, everywhere is warmer than Canberra.
Rigorous scientific back-to-back testing of Sydney and Melbourne has led me to the unsurprising conclusions that coastal areas are more temperate than inland mountain-ringed bowls and if you go away for two weeks grocery shopping will be a top priority on your return (I’m so out of food that I’ve run out of rice milk and my pantry consists of horrible-naturopath-tea-my-best-friend-sent-me-when-I-had-the-flu and green curry paste).
I really need to buy food.
Ideally food that goes with green curry paste (curiously I feel both compelled to fill the cupboard with such pantry staples and then compulsive urged to use them all up… which I suppose puts me in a bizarre bracket of being mildly stressed by both having and not-having food. Which, now that I write it, seems both mildly psychotic and the very definition of a first world problem. I do hope there are others similarly afflicted out there. Perhaps we could have a support club where we could reassure one another that bare cupboards are ok and, in the alternative, that curry paste really doesn’t have an expiration date.)
Moving on from any undiagnosed compulsive issues, I recently started working at a bar (points to all those who picked up the clue in paragraph two). I have never worked at a bar before and it is, thus far, an excellent mix of learning, mild stress and good fun. Being glutarded myself I’ve never really drunk much beer (though I truly love the taste it doesn't often love me back) so I’ve downloaded the 2015 BJCP style guidelines to read up on the different types of beer. For instance, did you know that the difference between an ale and a lager is whether it uses top (ale) or bottom (lager) fermenting yeast?
I do love learning curves.