The time I got hazed in the tropics

 One of the best things that I feel going abroad has given me is the opportunity to meet a variety of people who I would never have encountered otherwise. One of these people is a guy I met in one of my classes named Az Gallagher.

Meet Az

Az grew up in a fairly rural part of Australia called Innisfail, Queensland. His mom's side of the family are commercial fishermen and his dad's side owns one of the largest banana plantations in Australia. After years of stereotyping Australians due to being an avid Steve Irwin fan, I had finally met the croc-hunting jungle-loving Aussie I had spent so many years envisioning.

To put things in perspective: On a Saturday morning, you can find me sipping my caramel machiatto and writing, which is something that yes, I do for fun. In contrast, Az is more than likely out in the middle of the ocean spearing 20 pound fish and catching more lobster than you would even know what to do with. His all too Australian lifestyle has even landed him a TV series with his friend Jack. The series captures the various ridiculous things they do across the country such as swimming with whales, putting their lives in danger on the reg, and catching monster-sized fish.

When I had a free week at the end of my time in Australia, Az was nice enough to invite me up to his house in Innisfail. He and his family were excited to show me what life was like for them up in the tropics.

Our journey started out with a 20 hour car trip from Brisbane to Innisfail with me, Az, and his mother Tracey who flew down to help us with the drive up. I was really hoping his mom and I were going to get along seeing as we were going to practically be sitting on top of one another in the front of an un-airconditioned car for the next 20 hours, but turns out I needn't have worried. You automatically have a special bond with someone after having to pee on the side of the road together because Az declared a spare patch of grass he found a good enough restroom for his female companions. The 18 wheelers were real fans of ours.

5 AM Departure

Fortunately, after only approximately 3 break-down scares, we made it to Innisfail. 

A brief reflection: Up until this point, I liked to think of myself as a decently outdoorsy girl. I enjoy hiking, taking long scenic walks through the forest and along the beach, and I've even found myself on top of a mountain or two.

Flash forward to my week in Innisfail: I am sitting in a boat in the middle of the Great Barrier Reef, there is a 20 pound dead fish spewing blood at my feet as I'm huddled in a corner of the boat farthest away from the fish, all while watching Az's brother rip a lobster's head off. I was considering jumping in and snorkeling until Az's grandfather earlier that morning had made sure to inform me that the sharks prefer female meat, and that the American ones were usually the unluckiest. 

This being said, all images of me basking on a beach tanning to the point of ethnic change died with the fish's last flop. Adventurous outdoorsy me turned into a suburban princess as nature became all too real.

Honestly, why do you keep staring at me

My week was characterized by moments like these as I got a taste of what life was like for the real outdoorsman of the world. The Gallagher's had every fruit you could ever hope for growing in their backyard, along with chickens that provided fresh eggs every day. Most meals were freshly caught and picked, which was fortunate for me because I quickly lost the few pounds my discovery of Australian chocolate had put on.

The only other major princess incident I dealt with consisted of the internal freakouts that ensued during my visit to the banana plantation. Innisfail's croc population has apparently exploded, so this knowledge mixed with the fact that half of the animals on the continent are deadly made it so that I was convinced I was going to get bitten or eaten at every turn. I was in a constant state of padding down my body to check for any rogue insects or tics that could have landed on me from the trees, grass, and general nature surrounding me. I additionally did routine poison Ivy checks even though they literally don't have it in Northern Queensland. 

I was doing a pretty good job at keeping my cool at least outwardly until gravity brought me down  and I face planted on some slippery wet rocks by a stream. At this point, I spiraled into a series of internal self diagnoses consisting of about 10 different infections contracted by insect bites. 

5 days later with my health still in tact, I can now confirm that there was absolutely nothing to worry about and that I'm a drama queen (typical). It was an amazing day, and Az showed me around acres of farm, forest, and beauty. 

ATVing through the plantation 

Apart from the dead marine-life overload, the Gallagher's showed me an absolutely amazing time, and it is an experience I'm confident can never be replicated. Some other highlights of my stay are getting to go to a deserted sand kay out in the middle of the ocean, swimming with a shark, seeing an amazing concert by Busby Marou, and having frequent fires/picnics on the beach. 

Deserted Sand Kay

I should win an award for holding that thing

Sunrise

Getting to take a look into the lives of a family completely different than my own was definitely one of my most interesting and enjoyable abroad experiences. 

Stay tuned for my next blog, which will probs be the last one.

-F 

I am the only English speaking person in this country

For those of you who know me well, you can easily picture the blank faced look of confusion I make when something is said that I don’t understand. I will be the first to admit that this isn’t exactly my best look, however, since I consider myself one step short of a genius, it is not a look I have to make all too often. 

Or at least that was the case- until I got to Australia. I first complained to you all about trying to understand the Asian-Australian accent. That was a struggle, and still is, but what I had failed to mention to you is that I couldn’t exactly understand any of the real Australians either. Every time an Australian spoke to me, it would take about thirty seconds of processing, and once I finally registered what they were saying, I’d then have to formulate a half-coherent answer as quickly as possible to make up for my thirty- second gap of deciphering their previous statement. I’m sure many wondered “does she have a social disorder, or maybe the IQ of 2?” But I was doing the best that I could, and I hoped that within a few weeks of living here I’d adjust.

It is now four months later, and instead of settling in and things getting easier on the communication front, it has gone horribly downhill.  The more I have immersed myself here, the more I have come to the conclusion that these people simply do not speak English.

This theory was somewhat confirmed when my PR teacher was kind enough to sit me down one day before class and explain to me that I should not be concerned about my utter lack of understanding because he and everyone else spoke Australian, which was not interchangeable with civilized English. What does Australian entail that our English does not? Well I will tell you.

Australians are the laziest creatures on this earth when it comes to speaking. They have shortened virtually every word past five letters making it so that full sentences can consist of purely one syllable words. It’s somewhat similar to how I envision cavemen communicating. I'll give you a few examples:

Breakfast- Brekky

Tutorial (same as recitation)- Tute

Avocado- Avo

Afternoon- Arv

Instead of typing “Bye” I get an “x”

Melbourne- Melbs

University- Uni

And then there are those various words and phrases that are just flat out different than anything you’d hear back in the US. I have taken it upon myself for the sake of this blog post to not only translate for you all, but to also insert my personal feedback in regards to my perceived adequacy or inadequacy of these sayings. 

“How are you going?” – Can I help you with anything? Oftentimes used by store clerks to ask if you need anything. It can also be used for how are you? Why this phrase sucks- you would never say “I am going well.” You would say “things are going well” or “I am well.” Overall, "how are you going" just sounds entirely wrong, and it is grammatically incorrect. 

“Are you keen?” – “Would you like to do this/Do you want to?” Keen is one of those words that I can only envision my great Irish Grandmother using. And even then, I’m convinced that using this word would be considered unfashionable and outdated.

“Hey”- You know you are in Australia when every sentence out of someone’s mouth has the word “hey” randomly inserted into it. No occasion is needed for a hey and after observing, I’ve concluded that people will typically throw it in once every 5-7 words thus contributing to the fact that it has no official meaning. Hey is often tacked onto the end of a sentence, somewhat like the Canadian “eh,” but I have also heard it used it as a replacement for “what/what did you say/are you up for this?”

Another cultural aspect of Australia that links into their questionable communication skills is the overall lack of a filter these people have. On my spring break I went on a guided tour around the natural wonders in a town called Cairns. The tour guide immediately announced that he’d buy me a free shot of tequila at lunch if I “flashed my tits,” (I obviously did no such thing) and proceeded to spend the rest of the tour talking way too much about  “orgasms, penises, sex,” and every other topic you were taught never to bring up in public. “Captain Matty” as they called him, informed me that I didn’t look slutty enough to be a stripper (um, thanks?) and warned me never to bang the diving instructors in Cairns (because that was the first thing on my list to do) among many other inappropriate references.  Did I mention that this was the number one recommended tour to take in the entire city of Cairns? This is casual dinner talk as far as Auzzies go, and as much as I reject the influence that living in the South has had on me because living in Chapel Hill hardly counts, my inner southern bell really shined through as I sat there squirming with discomfort every time he opened his mouth. 

I will send you all off with a few random terms/phrases here that are literally nowhere to be found in the US. You can thank me later (preferably via Starbucks giftcards) for educating you.

Fairy floss: Cotton Candy

Playsuit: Romper

Capsicum: Pepper

Larriken: Troublesome young man

Bogan: Hick

Togs: Bathing suit

Thongs: Flip flops

Now that I have given you a brief foreign language lesson on how to communicate with Australians, I am off to spend my last 3 remaining weeks in Australia. I'll be in Sydney, Melbourne, and Cairns... then back to Chapel Hill I come (everyone try hard to contain your excitement). 

I also feel the need to show you pictures of a restaurant famous in Australia called Max Brenner's chocolate bar, which is dedicated purely to chocolate. 

White chocolate cookie shake

Milk chocolate home-made icecream with pecans, brownies, melted milk chocolate, and chocolate waffle balls

Mom and dad- prepare for the medical bills associated with diabetes

 

Until next time.

-F 

   

You all seriously thought I got a koala tattoo? C'mon people

A koala... really?? You all have so little faith.

I'm like a rebelling teen- I wanted to give Liz and John a good scare, hence the fact my facebook over the past few days has looked more like a snapshot from girls gone wild: the chronicles of Farrell Sweeney losing all sense of self in Australia.

But no, all is classy and fine on my end- I just have a classic case of missing my family immensely. So naturally, my chosen way to express this was to give them all a minor heart attack from halfway across the world.

In order to retain my preferred Sweeney spot as the center of attention, I decided a fake tattoo ploy was perfect because that is something that just can't be ignored. I've had the belly button piercing phase, then the nose piercing, so a natural next step could have theoretically been a tattoo. I hadn't talked to my parents in a few days either, so I was hoping that would ultimately add to the shock factor.

When deciding which temporary tattoo to choose and where to put it on my body, I immediately gravitated towards putting a tramp stamp on my lower back that said "bad girl," however, I quickly realized how transparent that would be. If I was going to do this- it was going to be done craftily.

The tattoo artist (is a temporary tattoo artist worthy of this title??), Shand, and I carefully sifted through all of our choices, trying to pick something that a "having the time of her life but no concept of reality" exchange student would choose. We all agreed that the tattoo needed to be something absolutely mindless that everyone back at home would cringe at, and that it had to have an Aussie theme. This would allow me to stick an emotional Facebook soliloquy about my time in Australia next to a picture of the Aussie themed tattoo, and bam. We have our final product.

So as I stumbled across a picture of a koala, I knew I had found the one. The tattoo artist proceeded to outline my new koala temporary tattoo with a faint red line to make it look like it had really just been done. We rushed home, snapped the pictures, and posted the final product on Facebook.

"Been contemplating having this done for months. This place has really changed me for the better and I wanted it to stick with me. Liz Paradise I promise it can be easily covered up! YOLO" - Accompanying caption

The deed had been done, and I sat by my phone excitedly awaiting Liz's reaction.

...Turns out Liz was clubbing in Miami, so 24 hours later- I finally got the text I had been waiting for. Instead of giving you guys a play by play of the conversation, I feel it will be easiest to just post it.

 Her initial support was somewhat surprising, however you know you've gotten to Liz Sweeney when she has resorted to therapeutic shopping via ridiculous one pieces. Mom what is that swimsuit??

When I proceeded to call her, in typical Liz fashion, as she was recounting the horror she was feeling while under the impression that I had actually gotten the tattoo, her main stress was that I had not consulted her for artistic advice. "I'm a creative director and you didn't even ask for my opinion. Artistically it was shit, and I was beyond horrified. I thought I had raised you to have better standards, and I was trying so hard to figure out where I went wrong."

So in the end, yes I have gotten the attention I wanted, however yelling parents would have been much more thrilling than supportive ones. Clearly I'm not going to complain about that though.

Additionally, I am highly offended at how many of my friends have believed this prank. Really guys?? On a scale from 1 to 10 in terms of being uptight, I'm a 12 and you all think I got a koala tattoo... In what world.

So hopefully that provides some clarification seeing as anyone that has asked about my tattoo I have neglected to answer. I've been too busy probably contracting skin cancer and hanging out in paradise- check it out.

I'll be posting many more pics of paradise via fb, so be sure to stay updated there.

Spring break round 2, so far a success.

-F

Is showering really necessary? A philosopical question.

Now that I am halfway through my time here in Australia, midterms have unfortunately arrived. I guess this means it's time for me to get in touch with my inner student, however, I have been having some trouble finding her. So, according to the rule of procrastination- it's time for me to write my next blog post.

The two weeks previous have been hospital visit free- so there's a success story for all of you. I have  only had one brief encounter with the police, which included a lost wallet, an actual anxiety attack, and a phone call ensuring its safety at the police station with everything including my 50 dollars in tact (only in Australia). So with the exception of this, things have, for once, been seemingly undramatic. Anyways, here is what I have been up to:

The other weekend, Shand and I made our way up to a little beach town called Byron Bay. Byron is known for having some of the world's best beaches alongside an eclectic little town that has become famous for its inhabitants called the "Byron Bay hipsters."

Now for those of you who know Shand and I well- your presumed reaction that we were beyond excited to go anywhere hipster infested is completely spot on. At Carolina, the 6 guys with any "edge" seem to all be attracted to other men (yes, I've hit on a few of them to find out that "I just wasn't their type"), so it was finally our chance to sit and stare at the tatooed beauties around us. And this time, it would be without our girlfriends at Carolina gaping over at us in horror as they drag you back over to the bros in their basketball jerseys with the Nike airs and backwards hats to match. Byron would be a welcome change of pace.

An overlook with Byron Bay in the distance

But upon our arrival in Byron, we came to some very quick realizations. The main two being: 1. We would not be finding our hipster husbands here. 2. Byron was not "quirky"... It was Asheville on steroids.

Never before have you walked around and seen the images of John Lennon and Yoko Ono reincarnated so many times before your eyes. They were on every street corner. When I said that Shand and I liked hipsters- we were more thinking hipsters that have real homes, and maybe even a job.

John and Yoko's home- "from little things big things grow"

Additionally, having a tattoo on every crevice on your body was apparently a good enough replacement for real clothes, and a face without a piercing was like a girl without her makeup on- naked and just not a thing. Brown and blonde were swapped out for reds, blues, and greens, so needless to say, there was never any lack of visual stimulation. And had I been hungover, looking anywhere around me would have been cause for an even worse migraine.

But hungover I was not because in Byron Bay, shots are illegal. This perplexing concept became even harder to understand as the bar to go to on Saturday nights did not have a dance floor, but rather a series of tables to dance on. It's one thing to hand me tequila and tell me to go figure it out. But to hand me a 10 dollar Smirnoff ice and then expect me to end up on top of a table in my little white dress- you're asking for a lot here.


After ending up at a biker bar post table-dancing (in the classiest way possible mom and dad, I promise.) and having a guy's pickup line include telling Shand she was exotic and Jewish (#what), we decided to call it a night.

As Sunday rolled around, we decided to cut our losses with the hipster search, and indulge in excessive amounts of shopping, icecream, and tanning to console ourselves.

Another moment of silence for my bank account....and my bikini body.

After being treated like outcasts for a weekend due to the mere fact that we showered, Shand and I have come to the conclusion that Byron has provided us with one of the most "cultural" experiences to date here in Australia, as well as a solid tanning base for our 10 day upcoming trip. 


On Friday Shand and I leave for Spring Break 2013 round 2. We will be going to the Whitsundays, which is a collection of islands on the Coral Sea, and then off to a town called Cairns where us and 5 friends have rented a beach house to go snorkeling and diving on the Great Barrier Reef.

As usual- life is tough out here. So on that note- Ill brb because I have a second spring break/tanning session to take care of. You all have fun in your respective cubicles or classrooms.

Until next time,

F

You wanted a response- here it is

This week, instead of keeping everyone up to date on the mess (in the best way possible) that is my life in Australia, I am instead choosing to respond to an article by request of the site owner. As those close to me know- when I become angry- you will be hearing about it. So here goes.

http://thrillcitync.com/paddles-and-privilege/

I am not sitting here saying that Greek life is for everyone or that there are not isolated incidents associated with it. Because there are. 

My problems (and I have many of them) with this article are the sweeping generalizations that are made about a group of kids that number in the thousands. From a journalistic standpoint, the generalizations made are as off limits as saying "Jewish people are rich," "football players are dumb," "Democrats are all flaming liberals," and the list goes on. This article contains a stream of observations that are being applied to 16 percent of UNC's campus, and the disclaimer about knowing some decent people in Greek life does not condone the statements that were made following the first paragraph. I would further like to mention that, as a female in Greek life, these statements are meant to embody me- as I am a part of the community that has just been grossly generalized.  

The responses I have for you, Ryan, are based upon my experience as a journalism student mixed with personal feelings of offense for the characteristics and mentalities that were just assigned to me as a female in the Greek system. 

Highlighted below are the lines I find most inappropriate and why: 

Through the influence of their alumni and their legacies, Greek societies confer upon already well-off students the privilege of still greater preferential treatment in the business world, in the classroom and in campus life in return for their agreement to bestow that same favoritism upon future members down the line.

Wake up. This is how the world works. Being a part of any group, whether it be an A cappella  group, a club, or a sports team, gives you access to alumni and former members that can help you out in the business world. The kids involved in Greek life are not using dirty tactics to get ahead. Networking through the resources available to you is what the advisors at our university would regard as "intelligent." Any member of UNC's business school or journalism school is doing the exact same thing with their respective alumni groups- is the next opinion based piece going to be on how those J-school kids are rotten cheaters for calling up a Carolina alumnus? Sorry for trying to get a job in an impossible market. 

Once a part of Greek life, sorority women are encouraged, implicitly and explicitly, to stay in good physical shape for the purpose of remaining attractive to fraternity men.

Not once have I ever heard of a sorority pressuring its members to lose weight. If this were the case- you'd think Pizza Tuesdays or "fried fridays" would have been disbanded long ago. I want to know where an utterly ridiculous statement like this comes from. The foods that sororities serve (while delicious) are made with more butter and grease than you could even imagine. Don't sit there and state that our sororities are pressuring us to lose weight for males while simultaneously feeding us 1500 calorie meals. 

It is nearly always men, not women, who control the supply of alcohol in situations where women are most vulnerable, and it is a significant number of those same men who aim to inebriate women for unsavory purposes. There is an expectation that alcohol can be exchanged for sex.

Statements like these make the writer of this article sound just as ignorant as the men that are "inebriating" women for unsavory purposes. I'm a junior in college- the guys at the fraternity parties I attend do not decide what I drink or how much I drink. Do not victimize women for being subjected to 50s gender roles and then turn around and make statements that insinuate that Greek college women can't and don't decide how much they drink. I can make decisions for myself, as can the women around me. 

Furthermore, the killer line of this whole article in my opinion, is that alcohol can be exchanged for sex and sex within the Greek system often seems to operate on a bartering system, one which creates artificially high demand for the affection of fraternity brothers.

I find it extremely inappropriate and highly offensive that this article makes commentaries about the sex lives of Greek females as a unit. Of all of the things to grossly stereotype- saying that the girls in our sorority system all A. even have sex in the first place. B. choose their partners based upon what fraternity they are in or C. will have sex with a guy in exchange for alcohol is a completely disgusting thing to insinuate about a group of young women. 

The effects of this oppression, generally speaking, have been the tacit acceptance of rape culture and the general objectification of women.

Another sweeping statement that has many social implications. To take an issue as large as rape and insinuate that it is common practice among the young men in fraternities at UNC is a serious accusation- opinion piece or not. Rape is not a problem that is isolated within the Greek community, and I am sorry but at the end of the day, 21 year old males are drunken idiots whether they are in a fraternity, on a sports team, or a GDI. I hang out with young men in all three groups, and in no way, shape, or form is there a "tacit acceptance for rape" between my male friends and I. This statement crosses the line, and it is no more applicable to Greek men than it is to other men of the same age. 

The main comeback to this article I have heard is that it is an opinion piece, and so the author is entitled to say whatever he wants. If the aim of this article was to get your Thrillcity site more hits, then congratulations. The job has been done. However, this one article has, in my eyes at least, completely discredited your site as a place to find journalistic material with any literary merit as this piece has just insinuated that "rape" is condoned by our entire Greek system among many other absurd things. 

I do not appreciate being told who I am and what I stand for as a member of the Greek system, and I am pretty sure I am not the exception in this. 

Until next time.

-F

Mom please don't have a heart attack

After having one of the more eventful weekends of my life, I figured a blog post about the series of unfortunate events could be appropriate. What is pain without 200 of your closest friends to share it with you?

Story 1:
Title- Death
Location- Fortitude Valley aka where the trash of Brisbane gathers for drinks
Time Frame- Thursday night 9pm- Friday Morning 6am.

Back story- I had met a cool girl in one of my classes the day before who invited me out with her and her Australian friends. We had had a real bonding experience after both showing up to our lecture an hour early by accident and walking in on an engineering class.  We knew something was wrong upon entry because we looked around to see a mass of males staring back at us. When you are a PR major- this just doesn't happen. After looking very dumb for blatantly being in the wrong place as there are as many female engineers as there are male PR students, we walked out and ended up agreeing that we really should have sat in on the class and found husbands instead of skirting out. That's when we knew we'd get along, and so here the story begins.

My housemates and I were excited to be going out with some real Auzzies, and we hadn't been out on a Thursday night yet so it was even better. On top of this, the place we were going had three dollar drinks and two dollar shots... finally a night out where we wouldn't wake up the next morning reaffirming how the American minimum wage had yet again screwed us over.
 
Looking back, I can now truly appreciate the phone call my uncle set up before my departure with his casual friend- Brisbane's ex-head of police. The first thing the man told me was "you think you party, and you think you can drink. But my one word of advice- do NOT try and keep up with the Australians because you simply will not be able to." Had I kept this in mind and warned those around me, my weekend probably would have gone much more smoothly. 

Upon our arrival to the bar, we met up with the Auzzie girls who promptly marched us over to get drinks as my friend Jessie asked the bar tender for "eight wet pussies please." My jaw dropped in disbelief as I turned to Jessie and asked her to repeat what she had just said. She looked at me confused- "I ordered wet pussies- what about it, don't you want one?" I nodded my head as she clearly did not understand why I was so astounded.  A "wet pussy," in case you were wondering, actually ended up tasting like a strawberry daiquiri so needless to say... 10 drinks later we were doing it Auzzie style and having a great night.

Wet Pussies should be prohibited. Also, meet my friend Jessie

I will spare you all with the long winded details about what happened before EMS brought a wheelchair into the bar to get my friend, but one passed out girl later who was deadweight to the point where the bouncers couldn't even figure out how transport her out of the bar, and there I was getting to go on my first ever ambulance ride. 

I must say, it really wasn't as exciting as I had hoped for. I'm sure it had something to do with me being racked with concern for my friend while simultaneously trying to be composed after the 10 wet pussies in my system, but she turned out to be fine after getting some fluids into her.

Meanwhile, Jessie had come with us and was avidly hitting on the EMS driver in the front announcing to him that she loved doctors. At this point I may or may not have been begging for an extra IV in the back because I have this weird affinity for IVs cemented in my firm belief that they fix everything, but unfortunately they had none to spare. Additionally, my friend had the same EMS doctor that I had when I got my appendix taken out, so I had a great 6am conversation with him about when I could start up my ab workouts again (next week!!).

All in all, my friend is alive and well, and we have now learned our lesson about truly immersing ourselves into the Australian culture: Do not even try because you will die.

...And Dr. Gupta said he had no interest in seeing me for a third time this month (oopsies), so we will attempt to be slightly more responsible from here on out.

Story 2:
Title- Sassy to a fault
Location- Fridays aka a classy club in Brisbane
Time frame- irrelevant

So there I was sitting at Friday's. As usual, I had let my friends do the talking for me after they had boldly walked up to a group of guys. For those of you who know me well, you will not be shocked to hear that I have still found myself incapable of approaching people- it is not my style, and I generally freeze up due to being shy anyways, so the best option has been to let people approach me specifically or just let my friends do the talking. My mom has yelled at me over Skype approximately 5 times now about being assertive and getting over being shy- she has also added in that we no longer live in the 1800s and that women can talk to men, however not all of us can be Liz who hit on her college professor enough to the point where he finally just married her.

This being said, after a billionth Saturday night in a row of talking to random guys who we quite frankly had no interest in, when a group of attractive guys hovering awkwardly in a corner yelled out to Shand and I, instead of walking right by them like we usually would, we actually stopped, walked up to them, and introduced ourselves.

I found myself more interested in the blonde guy to my right, so when the dorky looking guy with glasses, Chaz, kept asking me questions about my major, I gave a few short answers but overall just dismissed them. When it came time for Chaz to tell us which university he went to, he got awkwardly quiet and didn't say anything, thus affirming in my head his status as a weirdo- he couldn't even answer a simple question coolly.

One of his friends promptly changed the subject and asked us why Americans didn't have Instagram. I informed them that Americans obviously had Instagram because look at me- I have 350 followers. A guy, who apparently was feeling equally as obnoxious as I was, one upped me informing everyone he had 400 followers, however, his friend quickly put him in his place saying that the only reason he had any followers at all was because of Chaz.

Shand, as confused as I was by that statement, asked them what that had to do with anything. The guys all smiled at one another as they informed us that Chaz was a famous actor, and Chaz just sat there as if they had announced to us he went to the grocery earlier that morning. Shand and I looked at each other before bursting out laughing. There was quite literally a zero percent chance that this guy was famous in my mind, and I made sure to inform them that just because we were American didn't mean we were complete idiots. Sassy and slightly intoxicated me made sure they knew I was not one of those dumb American girls that would believe every ridiculous statement they made. 

Chaz smiled, and proceeded to show us his Instagram, which had a mere 52,000 followers. But even then, I was absolutely convinced that this guy was full of it- I mean what a creep for hacking onto some person's Instagram and pretending to be famous just to try and get some girls at a bar. I was also offended because his story was so cliche. He could have at least come up with an alias a little more original then "famous actor." So I accused him of being a complete weirdo for hacking onto someone's Instagram to which he stared in disbelief, and Shand and I ended up walking away.

The next morning, for good measure and some peace of mind, I looked up the actor that the guy from the night before had been pretending to be just to confirm that he was a fraud. Unfortunately the very first picture that came up was of him and his friends from the night before, and as I scrolled down on the Instagram page and compared the pictures to the famous Charles Cottier on the hit TV series Home and Away here.... it was a direct match to the guy I had met the night before.

The photo that confirmed my idiocy

Well, at least I'll be remembered as the crazy American girl who accused a famous actor of being a pro Instagram hacker... yes I am kicking myself right now.

All in all, this weekend was far from dull. Monday hasn't been devoid of excitement either as I am currently editing my fellow classmates' poetry and this came up... I am trying to figure out a way to politely tell this person that their poetry sucks. Also, yes this was handed into a professor.

So until next time.

-F

Calling all free spirits

 If you look into my room, you will see neat piles on the desk, a color coordinated closet, a perfectly made bed, and an immaculately swept floor. I have a journal with to do list after to do list, an agenda with my next 3 months planned out, and an email account that is divided into 5 different folders giving every incoming email I receive either a place to go or it must be deleted.

My opening paragraph is how I am choosing to openly confess to all of you that I am an absolute control freak. Society looks at people like me, and they roll their eyes and get annoyed. They don't understand the fact that when I look at a dirty kitchen, I actually feel a slight tick as my breathing gets more panicked and the nerves build. Or how if someone with dirty shoes walks into my room, my throat constricts as I do everything in my power not to beat them out with my broom.

You laugh, but living like this for 20 years has been maybe the most stressful and annoying thing in the world. I thought being a control freak was hard, but then I got to Australia where it turns out that being a control freak is not only hard, it is impossible.

I should have realized what I was in for when, after my 13 hour flight into the country, I proceeded to be kept waiting at the airport for an additional 4 hours as my ride casually headed over. When you land at 6 am off a red eye and proceed to get to your house that is 15 minutes away at 11, the "sorry girls I was just running a tad behind," just isn't the type of apology that makes you feel better.

In Australia, rushing is somewhat of a foreign concept and working seems to be something they make time for on the side. As is displayed by the surgeon's postponement of my surgery from a Sunday evening to Monday, even emergencies aren't dire enough to impose upon someone's weekend.

Coming from the US where we are defined by our jobs above all else, you sit and stare in awe as your teacher does not apologize for not answering your email, but instead sits there and tells you the story about how he blew off work to go to the beach thus legitimizing why he never emailed you back.

The other day I had a conversation with a transplanted American who is now raising her kids here. What stuck out to me the most was when she mentioned that it was in no way abnormal for a kid coming out of Australia's top prep school to choose to be a waiter and surf for 10 years over going to college. The parents of these kids will casually mention at a dinner party that Johnny is just hanging out post high school with no shame or second thought. In America, Johnny's mom would be going into a long-winded explanation about how Johnny is going through a rough patch in life but that the break from school will actually lead him to success that your kids may never have because he'll go back into everything with a fresh start. Meanwhile, she would be pouring her fifth glass of wine as the mere thought of her son straying from the norm would internally be ripping her to shreds. The race to the top, which exists even among friends in America, just is not a thing here. These people are truly just hanging out.

I always found it odd that my classes here are composed of just as many 40-year-olds as there are 20-year-olds. Instead of appreciating the fact that my older classmates have probably lived a life full of adventure and excitement, I choose to stress about how in the world they could be paying their bills on top of loans? And how could a healthy marriage be established when they clearly didn't have a stable income yet? And on top of that, if they are just going through college now- are they going to have time to have kids? You can't prioritize a career when you have kids- and they were clearly running out of time to have the kids as women have an expiration date, so what will they choose?! These type of questions among many others swim through my head constantly as I observe daily life here, but if I am going to make it out of this country a sane person, I have to let go of all of the preconceived notions America has instilled in me.

All of this being said, when you are used to planning and plotting every minute detail of your life and everyone around you is running off to go be free and live, the internal struggle really heightens as you try and spontaneously ditch life for the beach, but then find yourself tanning and still making the two million to-do lists in your head and not your notebook.

Noosa Heads- Australia's Version of the Hamptons for a last-minute weekend trip. Life could be worse

 Learning how to relax, although challenging, is starting to become easier the more I realize that I am actually an outcast for being so uptight. In America I am exceptionally motivated. Here I'm told to "chill mate because all will work itself out." And they're right. 

In fact, school was completely cancelled on Wednesday for a public holiday so that everyone could go to a horse race.

Yes, my hat is larger than I am.

All in all, I really can't complain about the life I'm living down under at the moment. Having to learn to loosen up and have more fun is a pretty great problem to have.

Stay tuned for the next series of adventures

-F