The Rooftop Bar and a sunny Melbourne afternoon

 Yesterday was everything a Spring day in Melbourne should be. Lovely company, sunshine, and cider at the Rooftop Bar at Curtin House. It could only have been improved by hay fever tablets which actually work. Eff you pollen, eff you.

My Photo

We talked about the day ahead and shouldn't we just run away instead? We started to believe our dreams.

Where did my travel dreams go?

I have now been back in Australia (after my *I'm moving to Europe* phase lasted only 18 months) for over a year. Something kind of strange has happened to me. It used to be that dreaming of travel and planning for travel were pretty much my only passions, the only things that could really cheer me up after a bad day and the things I looked forward to in my future.

Recently I have realised that when I try to imagine possible future travel adventures I just feel tired. I think of staying in a hostel dorm and wistfully fantasising about an eight hour sleep, I think of dragging my suitcase/backpack up never-ending flights of stairs, I think of struggling to work out the public transport timetable in an unknown language. And it all makes me feel tired. I have lost my ability for escapism. My friends tell me that is all good: it means I am settled, content.

No. It is an identity crisis. I thought I knew who I was - the girl who was always dreaming of new places, of adventure, of the rush of culture shock. But now I'm the girl who is seemingly settled into a life with no career, no partner, and no big dream. How effing boring. When did I stop panicking about not knowing what to do with my life?

This Summer I will be away from uni for at least three and a half months. Maybe during that time I will figure out what it is that is making me content. Being content with no obvious improvements to my life is really confusing me.

My Photo of Paris

And now I'm back, to let you know I can really shake 'em down

It's done. It's finished. No more thesis. My life has no meaning anymore. Jokes....kinda.
I decided on the title The Romance of Ravishment: Sexual Violence in the Arthurian Romances of Chrétien de Troyes. Now all that is left to do is wait for the results. I try not to think about it too much

The long-awaited freedom of having no 'study guilt'  hanging over me doesn't feel as wonderful as I expected. I feel a little panicked, to be honest, what do I do now? I can see a horrible possibility that I will work a lot and then sleep til midday on my days off. Working a lot is great, but not if it turns me into a lazy bed monster (not in a sexy way) on my days off. I must stop sitting in bed watching bad television shows and munching on cheese biscuits, I am sleeping in a field of crumbs.

Today will be nice. Brunch and Dinner out. I hope I don't use up all my friends' social perseverance too early on in the holidays.

I also have a growing book list which includes: (finishing) The Elegance of Hedgehog by Muriel Barberry, The Swan Thieves by Elizabeth Kostova, When Christ and His Saints Slept by Sharon Kay Penman, The Secret History by Donna Tartt, Burning Bright by Tracy Chevalier, and Bernard Cornwell's new book Death of Kings. No doubt I'll also read some cheesy young adult novels.

Okay, I better get ready for Brunch. Gosh, I love Brunch.

Photo: Anna Rosa Krau

I want to rock and roll all night, and party every day

Only twelve more days and I won't have to feel the ' you should be studying guilt' every time I get distracted. I deleted my facebook to help with distractions yet I somehow seem to find others, like staring at the wall, thinking about moving to South America, browsing bookdepository, and oh...well...blogging.

Twelve more days and then it's all about sunny Melbourne days, dancing with my friends, my (fiction) book list, and beer gardens. Roll on the 28th. I guess having the ending in sight is a little bittersweet; I've  had a fantastic Honours year....and I won't truly be able to relax until the results come out.

Off to finish to finish my take home exam on medieval women; I'm linking Heloise, Eleanor of Aquitaine and Margherita Datini.

Rantage

And I’m back, if only momentarily, to rant a bit.

I have discovered a new pet hate: students who take primary material completely out of its original context and apply it to their argument. Even worse, when they are totally aware of their sneakiness and just laugh and say ‘oh yeah, I tried to get away with that’ when called on their dirty academic behaviour.

I have to frequently defend my choice to spend a year writing on some random medieval dude, and the worth of writing a thesis at all, I do this by explaining the larger picture like this:

Dear ignorant person,
Imagine if there were no students writing theses, then there’d be no Masters students,  no PhD students, no lecturers, no History departments at University, no History teachers, and all of a sudden we’re living in that movie Idiocracy and watering plants with sports juice.

Okay, I may be overreaching here, but the point is to think of the larger picture of misrepresenting material in an area which is academically neglected. If nobody notices then that wrong could eventually become an accepted right.

 It was cute when Geoffrey of Monmouth did it….lazy undergrads, not so much.

I suck at blogging these days. I think I will take a leave of absence until I am once again inspired to rant and rave.

Peace out.

When the night always ends with a fight, i'm excited that you wind up next to me

I'm starting to realise how naughty religious people must feel. The guilt. So much guilt. It follows me everywhere, telling me I'm naughty. Everything, which is not my thesis, has become a guilty pleasure. Facebook? Should be researching! Historical fiction novel? Should be writing my chapter! Socialisation? You only deserve that if you've worked on your thesis! Blogging? You stupid little chit, get off the Internet and WRITE YOUR THESIS.

I understand that this blog is getting a little repetitive. Perhaps I should rename it ' Avoiding my thesis'. The thing is, I actually really like my topic; I just have too much time on my hands. I work better under time pressure. The semesters of uni I did the best in were the semesters in which I overloaded units.

I have been reading my old blog. My European adventures. It's so easy to forget the things that I didn't love about travel when I'm not going anywhere.

Oh, I am feeling sorry for myself today. I have a sty, a sty in ma eye. Of course, this sty has chosen the perfect time to hit - I'm going to a gig tonight and High Tea next week. Maybe I will just run with it and dress like a pirate, eye patch included. Oh, and it's rent day. Awesome.

I realise this is a borefest of a blog post. I'm just tryin' to keep it real.

I was going to post a pretty picture. But this post just does not deserve it.