a little bit absent, but you can find me at the Creek

My apologies for my absence over the last few days, the description does call this a daily blog. But unfortunately, my health hasn’t been great and so I’ve struggled to write some posts. I actually can’t remember the last time I posted (though that isn’t saying much, my memory is a little preoccupied these days).

There is, however, a small speck of light. I will be back soon, and hopefully better than ever. I just have a couple of hurdles to overcome first, but then I will be getting things back on track.

Its interesting, in a way, but had you asked me two years ago what my greatest fear was, I would have (and did) described my current situation. Now that it has snuck up on me, and the storm has returned, I find myself being pulled about by the tide; alternating between still being totally terrified and occasionally feeling like it’s just no big deal.

It naturally follows that I find myself seeking solace from adolescent TV dramas – because who else is as angsty and confused but teenagers? Especially those in the 90s. And so it goes that I have recently invested in the first 3 seasons of Dawson’s Creek, and I am contently ensconced in blankets on the couch, watch the whole Joey-Pacey-Dawson-Jen drama play out (Pacey and Joey forever!). I say content, but it’s a turbulent kind – it flits in and out, as I search for comfort from this dreary storm. At least the weather seems as confused as I do.

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appreciative of some old school Johnny Depp

Specifically, Cry Baby, which is one of my all-time favourite movies. It’s hard to beat when I need cheering up, since it’s full of ridiculous characters, good tunes and what Mrs Vernon-Williams likes to call ‘hysterectomy pants’.

Cover of Cry Baby (Director’s Cut)

Essentially, the story is about two factions of teenagers, the squares who are the quintessential ‘good’ kids of the 1950s, with full skirts and a wholesome love for charm school and theme parks, and the drapes, juvenile delinquents who wear tight clothing and sing hillbilly music (which sounds an awful lot like Elvis Presley). In a way, the movie is like Grease’s rebellious and less popular cousin. The plot follows a square called Allison, who falls for a drape nicknamed Cry Baby. She is torn between the squares and the drapes after a brawl at the drapes hangout, where Cry Baby gets arrested. All sorts of pandemonium follows, including false pregnancies and parents speaking in tongues.

The movie has a lot of terrible jokes, particularly from Wanda’s ignorant parents, who unknowingly swear in court and are just excited about Wanda making it onto the radio.

Or even trying to switch their daughter for a Swedish milkmaid.

I’ve shown this movie to friends before, and they look at me like I’m nuts for loving it so much. But there’s something alluring about full skirts and good girls gone bad that makes it so good. And of course, Johnny Depp is in it (as well as a cast of surprisingly big names – Willem Dafoe and Iggy Pop included).

And you cannot deny a movie that captures teenage rebels and their shady relatives in such a loveable light. 

But mostly, it’s just Johnny Depp singing on a motorbike.

jazzed about having a reason to primp and preen

Tonight is my friend’s cocktail party in celebration of her birthday.

I’ve been looking forward to it all week, and finally, it has arrived. All that’s left to do is pretty up, put on my social face and shimmy out the door.

I don’t really drink that much, especially when compared to my peers. I don’t fit the stereotypical uni student who drinks and parties every night (but then, I don’t know that many people who do). I go out maybe twice a month, at most. I used to be more social, but over the last year I realised that it was becoming more trouble than it was worth. I’d put all this effort into making myself feel attractive, and then still feel incredibly insecure when I walked into a club or party. And then I’d drink a bit to increase the fun feeling, but not realise when was a reasonable stopping point. And become the girl who hides in the toilets from people.

So, nowadays I go out rarely, and drink only half that time. Part of this, I must admit, was an imposed ban on drinking by my doctor. But upon being cleared to drink again, I haven’t made that much use of it. Nor do I really have big urges to.

It makes me wonder where they used to come from. Australia is a country renowned for it’s drinking culture – beers and barbecues are a standard affair, and there are many tourist cards adorned with the ‘Aussie bloke’ slouching with a beer stubby in hand. Part of this stems from the link between sport and booze, and Australians are also very heavily into sporting events.

This means that many children have been continuously surrounded by beer for most of their lives, and thus it is easy to acquire. Not to mention the typical teenage rebellion of underage drinking.

For me, though, even as an underager I didn’t consume a lot of alcohol. I typically would have one or two drinks at a party, enough to enjoy myself and ‘fit in’, but not enough that my mother would be grounding me for breaking the law. I never got truly drunk until after my 18th birthday.

Even still, I can probably still use my hands to count the number of occasions I have truly been past the point of tipsy. Everyone needs to test their limits at some point, and for me that was the first couple of years of uni. But no more.  It just doesn’t work out well for me.

But tonight, I will be drinking, though I may not hit my furthest points of intoxication. It is a cocktail night, and it may involve Butterbeer, which I am so keen to try, and after all, I am young. I have plenty of time to be responsible, so for now I’ll just blow off steam with a sample of way-too-sugary drinks (I do like them sweet) and a pleasant giddiness.