(no subject)

Oh God, oh God. I love you all. I want to come home. Australia smells. You know that old joke about how Australia does have culture, it's in the yogurt section? I don't think that's true. I think it's with the margarine, next to I can't believe it's not butter. 'I can't believe it's not culture!' consumed with vegemite all over the country. Oh God. I went to an interview yesterday for bar work with my nineteen year old flatmate. She got a callback, I didn't. When Lizzie came home I cried and said things like what's wrong with me? and when will this torment end, when, when? (actually I just dribbled sadly into her shoulder.) And then, when I was still sniffling, the phone rang and I was invited for an audition for musical presenters! This musical college wants people to present songs and stuff to small children. The audition is tomorrow. I have to sing the three fishies song, with props and actions. And I have to teach them a nursery rhyme. If I get this, then goodie. The other good thing is that I met Lizzie's boss and co workers properly the other night, and they're lovely. And they like me! Two of them are leaving in December and Lizzie is going to ask Dave if I can have their jobs. Lizzie has been given lots of data entry work to do, so she is working as she pleases, pretty much full time. We are still waiting for things to be better, but events are helping to inch a little closer. So things feel better even though really they won't be until we're both employed and happy.

My father arrives in Brisbane this weekend. He's down in Canberra for a conference. I think part of the reason why I feel so black is because I wanted to not be fucking up wildly when he was here.

Our drug dealer flat mate moves out today! Yay!

Happiness is relative.