Oh well!

So due to my lack of discipline and general laziness, this blog thing never really took flight.

I suppose it was meant to catalogue the journey from start til settle in Melbourne - and in a way, it has.

I've made my way over, come to terms with the city, found a great place to live, and I've just started an amazing job at a place so perfectly tailored for my likings that I couldn't possibly ask for more.

Sorry for the disappointing lack of posts, but for those who care - things have worked out so far. Exceptionally so. Much love to the lot of you, and I dare say I'm going to make it.

LingLing xo

Vice Vice Baby

Spent hours dressing up (read: loathing my wardrobe).
Ran the 'Oh my god I have nothing to wear' routine.
Applied vigorous amounts of hairspray.
Went to a VICE party.
Turned up late.
Missed bands.
Missed free booze.
Got mistaken for someone else.
Made a friend.
Got invited to a party.
Went to clubs in town.
Didn't actually go in.
Came home shattered.
Interesting night.

On to the Next One

Right. I've clearly been getting a little too comfortable with the settling in process, and you know when you've got something to do that takes a little work and then you don't feel like it 'cause you want to watch Adventure Time and then oh it's 10 o'clock obviously I'm not going to write now seriously I won't get any sleep oh it's 4am and I haven't updated this in four days because this cycle keeps happening aargh.

So in lieu of a dreadfully lengthy endeavour, let's truncate the whole process and bring up some nifty bullet points instead.

• I have a place to stay in now and it is mad bitchin'
• Not being homeless is the bee's knees
• I now cry roughly 2 1/2 times less per day
• I won shit at a casino
• I've gone market shopping. MARKETS. HAWKERS PARADING THEIR WARES WITH VERBAL CAPS LOCK
• IKEA is my new favourite place (in the world)
• I'm pretty sure all the DIY shit I've been doing validates my manhood
• I'm officially a freelance writer
• LOOK MOM I'M A BIG KID NOW
• My room has gone from being a futon and windows to a pad composed primarily of awesomeness
• I've discovered that fuel for word-smithing is a hearty serving of whisky (high five, Hemingway... and cirrhosis)

I suppose the subtext is that everything's finally settling down just fine and dandy. Only a matter of time 'til I run this town.

P.S. Ah fuck, I need a job.

Sounds Good

Whoah. Whoah. The past few days have arguably been some of the most stressful times I've ever had to go head-to-head with in the entirety of my existence. Bold claim, but fuck me do I stand by that statement.

Impending homelessness and general loss of direction with things not working out were ridiculously aggravating things to deal with, and I'm almost ashamed to reveal that they manifested themselves in what I figure were psychosomatic forms. Stress led to perpetual nausea, which led to an inability to eat, which tumbled into lethargy and all manner of illness. The worst part: I'm pretty sure I was entirely aware of what my noggin' was doing to the rest of my body, and the inability to combat its effects exacerbated the entire process.

But enough about the sob shit. Progress has been made. My first Australian article's been published, I've done my first interview (to be published in The Beat next week), WE'VE FINALLY FOUND A PLACE TO LIVE IN (a decent one in North Melbourne, actually) and things are back on track.

Now I'm aware that this post isn't exactly witty or comedic a la mode, but it's more of just an update of how I'm doing for whoever that gives the slightest semblance of a care (hi Mom). Regular shits and giggles will resume shortly. I swear there's a good chunk of tales right around the corner.

FFFFFUUUUUU-

THIS IS MY LIFE

Quite a bit has happened. Just so scatter-brained right now. I swear I'll update this soon. Maybe when I don't feel like throwing up from sheer anxiety like, all the time or whatever. xoxo

Ching Chong Bing Bong

Eek! So I’ve been awol for a bit- my apologies. I think I’ll try to keep this updated at least every two days, or someshit like that. Wait, does anyone even care? Meh. I’m ‘personal record of affairs’ as the justification for keeping this thing a-chuggin’.

I’m sounding like a broken record, but the house-hunting front is still proving to be a tough nut to crack. With any luck, at least one of the five or so flats that we applied for over the weekend will work out, and then I might just be able to recoup my sanity. I have the sneaking suspicion that Cthulhu’s the source of the strange noises we’re hearing around the flat. It could be possums or whatever strange wildlife they have here, come to think of it. Maybe Cthulhu though. Explains my crazies.

It’s Chinese New Year today! Shit was mad cray in Chinatown. Ferocious lion/dragon dances (done by white ppl lol), ear-splitting fireworks and unnavigable mobs were all on the menu down Little Bourke Street. SO MANY PEEPO

SARDINES

Resisting the impulse to absolutely wreck children blocking the way (IT WAS SO HARD), I finally made my way to Erik and Holly (I came THIS close to punching a child) and grabbed some milk tea and Yum Cha for lunch. Considering the festivities, it would've been rude not to (God I'm gonna get so fat). We had to deal with firecrackers in the background, terrible customer service and barely any space in the restaurant. Yep, authentic Chinese experience alright.

Back In My Day...

The thought of your parents having full lives before you is almost unfathomable, isn't it? Just trying to comprehend the fact that they've been through the same trials and tribulations you're now going through abso-fucking-lutely boggles the noggin.

To put this revelation in context: I met one of my Dad's friends today. I'm basically meeting an older gentleman or lady every other night for the next couple of weeks, like I've fucked the age (ha!) on my eHarmony account (no that is just a joke, I don't have one. STOP SEARCHING FOR IT). It's essentially so that I have contacts and decent safety nets in case shit hits the wind turbine, but I half suspect that he's wringing me through his list of comrades so they can assess whether or not I've got the crazies and/or have the foggiest clue of what I'm doing. I'm fairly lucid, but I think I'm talented enough with the verbiage to distract them from the fact that my current vexations have traversed into territory of a somewhat... opaque nature.

Yep, I'm still figuring out my shit aye.

Granted though, I keep hearing this reassuring point from all sources: In five years, you look back at the twenty-something struggle and laugh. It's just something every individual has to weather, but if you've got the guts and gusto, things will work out. Now it's just a matter of actually getting through this period. It may be the toughest, but I also hear these are some of the fondest years. Glad to know that the struggle's not all in vain. OR WAIT IS THAT A LIE THEY TELL YOU LIKE SANTA

So does that mean I just got touched by a regular pervert then?

In other news, I submitted my first Australian article today for a site called Purple Sneakers. I'll link it if/when they put it up, and that can be where it all begins. Getting in touch with other magazines, and about to get started with The Beat. How exciting! So I went shopping and spent a week's rent to celebrate. Oops.

Because I'm worth it.

Things are Looking Up

I think we're up to date at this point. I've skipped over quite a bit, but the last week has had a fair share of ups and downs. With general exhaustion, frequently getting lost, being unemployed and dealing with impending homelessness, you can probably tell why I've been on edge. Maybe because I just spelled it out for you.

The Phantom Meownace?

Granted, I chose to go in blind, set the scenario difficulty to hard and dove in head first, screaming "IDGAF" all the way. But it hasn't all been bad. In fact, it really hasn't at all. This city is beautiful, vast and modern. The sun's out in full blast daily (don't rich folk pay mad money to fly to this kind of weather? But they also wear monocles and top hats and OKAY I'M BASING THIS ALL ON DOWNTON ABBEY), I've started getting involved with local magazines and ERIK (other flatmate) IS HERE NOW

The dynamic's up and chipper, things are a little more balanced and organised, and we're re-invigorated for our apartment and job hunt. I've got a fuck-tonne of magazines to lend my services to (and trust me, I plan to), and with any luck that'll lead to a money-paying job (please, please all divinities, hear my plea) in an industry I actually give half a damn about. Ladies and gents, this is where it all begins.

Watch this space.

Come At Me, Brah

Day 5 was just painful. Attempting to familiarise ourselves with the area we're currently flatting in led to a grocery run... several districts over. I'm not sure if you're aware, but I am not the fittest man. In truth, I'm pretty sure the lanky/indie kid physique and penchant for chill vibes are all just a front to cover the fact that I can't actually handle physical activity. Shhh. Don't tell anyone though. Then I'll have to go to a gym. And then I'd have to take steroids to catch up. And then I'd get roid rage and go on a murdering spree. DO YOU WANT THAT TO HAPPEN

WHY YES I DO LIFT

Yup. So I'm pretty sure I ended up doing something like ten kilometres, which in my world deserves some kind of medal. Or honorary mention, I'm okay with that too. Sure, I skated most of it- but living in an industrial area  (we have a Dunlop factory and a forge down the road. A FORGE) seems to mean that side-walks are non-existent and the roads are the end result of a golem's bout with diarrhoea. God, I wish I had an image for that.

But to the point- the last five days had me on my feet, running around, up and about. I think it kind of justifies day 6... which I spent wallowing and crying in bed with ice cream and Community. Skipped plans for clubbing, totally passed over the chance to skate. Sometimes you just need a day in. Right? Right?? Omg validate my terrible choices kplzthxbai

Third Time's the Charm

Days 3 and 4 were slightly less traumatic, I suppose. 'Twas the company that made it bearable, if not lovely.
See, that's the thing about moving to a brand new town, all fresh-like. Everyone's a bit of a stranger. Fortunately, other people move about too- and it's always a delight to see a familiar face.

The main things on the agenda were shopping and food: basically two of my favourite things on the planet. Guess it goes without saying that the frantic/moody little shit inside of me reached some level of inner peace. Yeah, I can be pretty easy to please sometimes. Thing is though, this city really does hold its own in those two categories. Street after street after street, each one seems to have its own fair share of gems and marvellous new ways for me to splurge with money I should really be saving for rent. Oh well. What is it the kids are saying these days? Right.

Oh yeah. I went there.

I feel compelled to go on the record and point out how well dressed the folks are 'round these parts. The average twenty-something could honestly be pulled right out of a Vanishing Elephant catalogue. I guess the fact that Melbourne's a real city means that the bar is raised, ante upped and all that jazz. From what I've seen, these chaps and chapettes know how to deliver. *Cue eradication of self-confidence and a newfound  loathing for my current wardrobe* Fuck. I really need a job.

Excuse me while I cry about the money and clothes I don't have

Sophomore Slump

Day two was a torrential clusterfuck. Weather-wise, I mean. Never have I ever so closely resembled a drowned rat in the entirety of my existence. Wait, maybe at the moment of my birth. But let's be honest, that's pretty hard to top. Where was I?

Right. A mixture of intrigue, confusion and pride led to many an hour spent weathering out one hell of a freak storm. Holly wanted to figure out the local transport, and I said I'd be damned if I let such a trivial thing beat me. Oh god, it battered me to a pulp. And then used my broken body to mop up the mess.

So. Much. Pain.

Melbourne's a lot bigger than I initially assumed, but I suppose that's a good thing. At the time though, that meant far too many wrong turns, general disorientation and total loss of hope when the battery on my map-bearing phone died. Soaked to the bone and equally cold, the thought of shelter was akin to defeat. Yeah, don't worry. I realise how moronically headstrong I was now.

Wet, lost and starving, Holly finally got a sim card and loaded up the gps on her phone. Deciding on a steamboat dinner, the general vibe of the day meant we couldn't settle for anything but. An hour later, barely able to stand and with the rain hiding my tears, we finally found a spot. You know how great food is pretty much magic? For the duration of the meal, all in the world was well again. Then it was time to head out into the rain again.

Please. Stop.

Shattered and beaten, the walk home just took whatever strength I had left. One hot shower and a clean change of clothes later, I slithered into bed and thanked all divinities for relief. I'll get public transport down another day; hopefully not one so stormy.

So tired. So broken.

Ground Zero

I suppose I’ve got the space to start off with an airline rant, right? It’s a total bandwagon-style affair, but god they just keep getting worse and worse. With my options being $10 for movies on a mini screen or slogging through that book I’ve taken forever to read (House of Leaves for anyone who’s interested), I’m kicking myself now for not writing sooner. Granted, there was the whole butterfly colony in my stomach to contend with, so mulling over a mixture of worst-case scenarios and romantic ideals won the bout. Four hours and a mild share of turbulence later (okay it wasn’t that bad- I only felt like we were going to crash twice), I looked out the window to see the vast barren expanses that were the outskirts of Melbourne. Oh joy. What an interesting start.

Melbourne pls

Fumbling through customs, dragging our luggage aplenty, we finally made it out of the airport. Fuck me. It’s hot here. So hot. As in “I’m going to be so smart by wearing my heaviest clothes to save on weight limits” turned to “FUCK FUCK I’M MELTING FUCK” in a painfully drenched scene with yours truly rivalling the Wicked Witch of the West.

I'm so pretty.

On a side note- can someone please explain to me how people can chat on the phone for hours on end? Do you not just run out of things to say, or do you have to be bland enough to find an account of what someone else has eaten today to be terribly entertaining? Anyway, our taxi driver never fucking shut up. Except to collect his money, I guess- but at least we were there. Twisted the keys, dumped our shit, and the city was ours to hit. My spirits were already at an ominous low as the trail through what I now assume to be suburbia painted a picture of Melbourne resembling much more of Manukau than the Wellington 2.0 I’d been led to imagine.

And that's how you killed your father, Simba.

A good fumble through Google maps and a few wrong turns later, we finally made it to the right train station. (Side note: In case you haven’t heard, these Melbournians have a pretty legit transportation system. It’s basically HOP done right. Wait, wasn’t this where HOP came from anyway? Back to the story though.) Still down in the dumps (almost literally, god that train was filthy by nightfall), I crossed my fingers and toes, hoping for the best. I mean, I’d come this far, committing to the cause was obligatory. But as soon as those bright, shiny lights started peeking out from the distance, I knew things were about to change. With a beacon guiding me home, the city kid inside me rejoiced and sang. Hopping off at Southern Cross station left me giddy with joy. This was it. A real city.

Ayo peeps, you know how we do

I’m not quite sure I know how to put it into words, but there’s just something magical about a city by night. It’s like it switches faces- or puts a mask on, I should say. Work gets tucked away, and it’s all time for play. Like a child on his tenth sherbet stick, I was simply ecstatic (and a little hyperactive). Running down alleyways, waltzing through sidestreets and arcades, that sherbet was pretty much crack.

Bubble Girl knows what's up.

The next few hours were spent pacing through the city and getting familiar with the new place I’d call home. Every poster was an event I wanted to see, all these restaurants had me promising to come back later. The shops screamed out for my attention, and boy- did they get it. Eventually though, the shortcomings of being human were made apparent as my legs threatened secession and the rest of my body cried out solidarity. Bargained down a taxi and made our way back to the temp flat, crashing almost immediately upon arrival. Right before sleep claimed me, I swear I let pass a smile and a chuckle. 

Oh Melbourne, we’re going to have such fun.