'It's time you started saving up for your own place,' said my mum.
'Get a place now while the property market is down,' said my grandpa.
'I've found some nice units on sale nearby. We'll go look at them on the weekend,' said my auntie.
And so we did.
Getting a place of my own has always been at the bottom of my 'to-do' list. Sure, I would love to move out of home and finally be free of the shackles parents put on their kids, but I'm not nearly earning enough to feed myself, let alone pay rent or a mortgage. Plus, I have other things I want to splurge on, like a car (status: soon) or travelling (status: not-so-soon). If I were to get a place now using borrowed money, I would waste my dying youth with financial restrictions.
Do people ever see things from your point of view though? A person can understand and empathise with you, but to see the world through your eyes is an entirely different matter. If people could walk around in each others' shoes, the world would be a smelly place. And of course, there would be no hatred, no war.
Anyway, we drove around looking at a few units. I have to admit, I got swept up in the whole property-buying mood, and soon I was carefully inspecting each place: Is that carpet mouldy or is it astroturf? Do the toilets have half-flush, quarter-flush and woolly seats? Is there a helipad on the roof somewhere? During those few hours, I lived with the fantastical notion that somehow I had the money to actually buy these units; until, that is, my grandpa asked if I had enough money to cover the deposit, and I was sucked back into the painful reality that I'd only saved up enough for a small car. My grandpa informed me that he'd lend me some money for the deposit, and the rest I'd borrow from the bank. 'You'll have to pay a few thousand every month,' he calculated. Oh dear.
In the end, there were no units that struck us as being particularly enticing (or affordable), and thus ended my house-hunting expedition. It won't be the last one though.

Hate-thing of the day: daylight saving. I hate losing time! I waste enough time as it is, wasting time.

Are you my confidence?
I wish I could be every little thing you wanted.

On Friday night, a group of us met for dinner at the Noodle Markets in Hyde Park (these are really cool; they should have them more often). It's been a while since we all met up like that. It really goes to show how much some of us have changed. It has gone from staying out till 3 or 4am in the morning at Coogee Beach in first-year uni, to just having a quiet 'family' dinner somewhere in Chinatown and going home. How do people change so suddenly? Why don't we know each other anymore? Is this the end, my beautiful friend?
After the food - I had some super-salty Singaporean shit (wow, alliteration! Actually, they were noodles) - some of the group peeled off, and the rest of us went to Privilege Bar to admire the talents of the girls dancing there. Yes, umm, lots of talent there. Dancing talent. The air was hazy with smoke, and I felt like I was entombed in some giant chimney. There was so much smoke, I could see it seeping out from my shirtsleeves and collar. At first I thought, 'Gosh, I really am hot! (psssst),' but then I realised it was some guy blowing a cigarette behind my back. I think my life expectancy has been cut down by 5 years (that's 35 now).
After half an hour or so of bobbing up and down and flapping my arms about like I was trying to fly, we decided we'd had enough and came out for some air. We trundled down to Sheraton on the Park for dessert - mini pavlovas, chocolate truffles, hazelnut gelato and dessert wine. Delicious. Some of us didn't finish everything; I was so tempted to take the leftovers, but then everyone would have realised how much of a pig I am, so I only took a bit. And thus concluded my Friday night.

Saturday: Eat. Sleep.

Sunday: Eat. Sleep.

On the long weekend, Monkey, Serena and I planned to go camping at a national park in the Hunter region. This was sadly cancelled due to unforeseen circumstances, so we decided to have a one-day hiking trip along the coast of Bouddi National Park.
The weather was fine, the scenery sublime (cue dance dream music)...

The start of what was to be a long and torturous journey, fraught with great peril.
Trudging upwards towards the jungle, our hearts were filled with the dreadful realisation that every step could be our last; until, that is, we looked up and discovered that there were yet more steps before us.

As we stumbled blindly along our path, I heard a low rumble and the crack of twigs. I turned, and, to my horror, discovered that one of the large boulders by the side had loosened and was ready to roll onto our path and crush us all. Luckily I ran ahead and steadied the rock, thus saving us from almost certain death. I didn't get any words of gratitude from either of them, but that's ok; I know they'll give me an extra special present when my birthday comes around.

Through the Alley of the Blind. The gnarled branches tore at our clothes, and invisible claws waited behind every tree. The wails of dead spirits engulfed us and threatened to drive us more insane.





Monkey writes: 'I have been stuck on this island for nigh on forty days now. My thirst is so great that I have resorted back to my old habit of drinking my bodily fluids. The taste of it brings back precious (my precious!) memories. For food I have been scaling palm trees and eating coconuts.
Oh how I long for the bananas of old!
Methinks this island is haunted. This terrible swamp monster oft appears and dances along the sands; tis truly a horrific sight. I also woke up one morning to find a gay baby-blue band attached to my wrist...'

The journey home. Driving in silence through the still night.
Went back to Monkey's place and played scrabble. Fell asleep on the couch and dreamt about jungles, bongos and waves lapping on white, white sand.