Off to uni. A most disappointing lack of the insane, bizarre or otherwise unusual on public transport. Or perhaps I was just paying too much attention to my textbook. There’s just something entirely fascinating about qualitative methods (and you have to love the little “researcher profiles” that pop up occasionally and show you smiling academics who used a combination of grounded theory and hermeneutics to bring us lovely insights into immigrant life).
It seemed like a very long day, but not a horrible one and not terribly stressful either. Firstly, a Policy tute, in which the relative advantages and disadvantages of privatisation were discussed (boo to anybody who thinks that sounds boring; it was actually quite good), then gym, then Pilates (in which the instructor told us that if we didn’t look after our respective postures, we’d be “decrepit” in our old age… he then chuckled at the image of us being decrepit). Russian followed, and we learned how to describe (very basically) our suburbs. This is the region of Watsonia. My house is number 20. To the left is my bastard neighbour and to the right is a football stadium (we were allowed to make things up).
Some more study, reading about qualitative research and making notes on public transport, and then a Psych lecture. The first Thursday lecture I’ve been to this year, actually, because normally the rehearsals start earlier and I’ve had to miss it (I don’t care if that sentence doesn’t make sense; it’s the Internet). We learned about dementia and Alzheimer’s disease and the lecturer laughed at something horrible (exactly what I can’t remember). Today seems to be International Laugh At Something Horrible Day. Of course, Aretha had to try and convince us that she’s smart (as per usual), and we even learned a new word (Circumlocutory [adj]: having unnecessarily wordy and indirect language).
An iced coffee, a train trip and several photos later (a few I took on the train, plus some walking through Ivanhoe), I was at rehearsal, where we ate pizza before running through a dress rehearsal of the show (pictured). The band is now cordoned off from view with a mesh-type curtain (probably because I, sitting on my high chair, was very visible) and gets to enjoy a supreme lack of oxygen when they turn the smoke machine on. I looked it up, and yes, that is dangerous. At least it looks cool.