Today, I woke up, and told myself that I would be a big girl and go out on the town All. By. My. Self. I decreed it at 8am, and then hid under my covers until noon. I'm such a wuss.
Upon rising from my mid-morning nap, I finished my second to last bowl of bran cereal with soy milk knowing that my afternoon outing would be quite costly since my food needs and interests are not cheap--ESPECIALLY here in Melbourne.
The night prior, I figured out that I wanted to go to Fitzroy, which is a suburb--more like a very large neighborhood--of Melbourne as it was recommended by an Aussie (pronounced Ozzy) that I met. It was perfect--lots of local eateries, bookstores, vintage apparel, and such. I absolutely loved it. Didn't love the prices though. I walked into one thinking that if I could find some yellow bubble pants for less than $50, that I'd purchase them. I'm not exactly sure why this shirt I happened to come across was on CLEARANCE for $200. I feel like our definitions of "clearance" are incongruous. I'm not amused.
I thought, "well surely this store is the anomaly." But it was surely not. All the stores in that area were not sensitive to the needs of the doctoral student budget. So rude.
I found a restaurant in the area that said it was a "vegetarian cafe." I got super excited and walked in and sat down before looking at the menu. I was a bit disappointed as they had 3-4 dishes that were veggie-friendly, but not the whole menu. I did have a tofu patty (paid $7) for a breadless tofu sandwich. What the heck. BUT when I tell you the french toast with raspberry compote and banana slices blessed my whole life, you betta' best believe! Normally, I have a fit when wet things touch my dry food, but I embraced my new experience and was quite pleased.
Then I walked a few more blocks and found a LEGIT vegetarian restaurant that had all kinds of hipstery food and drinks. I was PISSED! I could have tried all kinds of deliciousness and I'll never find that place again! So upset. I did get a fresh squeezed juice that helped to soothe my anger.
A couple more stops--tried to find a contemporary photography gallery, but it was closed by the time I got there. Along with the cafe a professor colleague/professor of mine highly recommended. Welp, guess I'll have to come back to Melbourne one day!
On my way back after 6 hours of exploring the city in two different neighborhoods, I grabbed some Vietnamese Phở noodle and vegetable soup. I was quite geeked that I found a vegetarian vietnamese soup as I've never seen a non-beef broth one. Yay! They just so happened also to have a very American looking cookie sandwich that was so beautiful and delicious. I was planning on taking a picture, but the cookie disappeared way too quickly. Might have to get another tomorrow.
FINALLY made it to the tram and went from stop 5 to 61--takes approximately 867 years. Two very awkward things happened on the train. Not sure which is worse?
Awkward situation #1: Not too many people were on the train when I get to my neighborhood and it is hard to see out of the window for the intersection with the Hungry Jack (Aussie Burger King). Nervously, I pulled the cord at TWO stops prior to the one I'm supposed to get off on. So I had to stare at everyone staring at me waiting for me to get off. After doing this twice, I STILL was one stop early, but decided to save my dignity and walk the extra two blocks.
Awkward situation #2: If you are my Facebook friend, you know I'm quite educated (finishing up my doctorate degree in May 2014) but am incredibly naive and sheltered which makes for interesting anecdotes. So on my way back, I was looking out the tram window and saw a shop that had life-size kitchen utensils in the window. They were huge posters of the utensils in multiple colors--neon green, cute pink, and sapphire blue. Then they had some on a pedestal with what I thought was entirely too much hype for cookware. Then I couldn't figure out why they would be selling leggings and stockings and had a female plaster model in the window as well. After about 27 seconds, it donned on me.
Waaaiiitt a minute...!! Those aren't cute kitchen utensils! Those are..oh my!
What I thought was a store for cooking connoisseurs was definitely a sex shop. Go figure.
'Til later.
Saturday, January 11
Thursday, January 9
Melbourne: Art Confliction
I'm conflicted about this art thing.
Today, I went to an art gallery, and I don't do well in art galleries. I kept meandering through each of the mini-galleries, rooms, and hallways looking at artsy stuff. The more I walked, the more confused and despondent I got. And to make it worse, it was a modern art gallery. Before I walked in, I told myself, "Jenaya, this is an art museum. Make the best of it. Learn something." But my pep talk didn't work. It's not just this one here in Melbourne. It's all art places. They're just so weird to me. Maybe if I got a modern artist to explain modern art to me, I'd understand it. Probably not. And it also didn't help that I didn't read a single placard explaining the work I was supposed to be aw-ing and amazed by. There just seemed to be too many words on the thing--wasn't 160 characters or less.
AND THEN, I had a baby life crisis in the middle and almost went to go hide in a corner because I started thinking about my life--never a good thing. I thought about how this whole museum is full of wall after wall and picture after picture of weirdos making weird things and seeing the world from a weird-weirdo perspective. And then I started thinking about my perspective and how it makes perfect sense to me, but to few others. So then, I thought, maybe if people saw what was in my brain, they'd think it needs to be in a museum--maybe an ART MUSEUM?!?!!! DOES THAT MAKE ME A WEIRDO?
Probably.
Ugh.
As I reflected on this more over my freshly squeezed hipster juice, I thought about how many weirdos there are in the world and how, really, the weirdos are the ones who make the world colorful and interesting to live in. Like if there were no weirdos, this planet would be monolithic, lackluster, and jejune (yes, I cheated and just my thesaurus app for that word). So once again, I've reaffirmed that yes, I'm a weirdo. Yes, I'm cool with that.
I did like the interactive exhibits in the museum. I made a necklace. It is cool. I guess that makes me a 7 year old.
Great.
Now, I'll talk on the other side of my mouth. Before this whole art museum adventure, I got a bit behind the group cuz I'm always getting distracted. This super cool Aussie that was maybe mid-50s stopped my friend and I who are both Black and says, "Oh my! You both are absolutely beautiful!"
Now I don't do well with compliments--especially of my physical stature just because......well, just because. But he was a photographer or at least played one very well since he carried a camera that was the equivalent of 8 months of my rent. I chatted with him for several minutes and really, sincerely appreciated his comments. It's something to hear (which doesn't happen often) comments of one's stature from a "Oh girl, you're so sexy/fine/beautiful/etc." in an "I want you" kind of way, but I felt when he told me, that it was from an artistic standpoint. Like, maybe my body and shape was/is art. Maybe I am fearfully and wonderfully made by my Creator Jesus. I was very honored and felt like I should think of my actual physical stature differently after this. Not that I'm beautiful or attractive or pretty or something. I am art.
This is going to make me put lotion on differently. I might even shave my legs more than once a month. Wait, that last part is stretching it. :)
After talking to this guy, I realized that I'm not a hopeless case when it comes to art. His photography is absolutely stunning and makes me smile. He told me he specializes in landscape and African wedding photography. Here's the link!
Long blog short, I'm grateful for the artist. I still don't understand the strange ones, but know that they have to do and think and reflect on their world--and should be given space and respect in order to do so..just like I have. All who live and think and interact and breathe and fulfill our purpose are branded "weirdos"--and oft by those who are not doing those things mentioned in the first part of this sentence.
Instead of a weirdo, call me an artist.
Today, I went to an art gallery, and I don't do well in art galleries. I kept meandering through each of the mini-galleries, rooms, and hallways looking at artsy stuff. The more I walked, the more confused and despondent I got. And to make it worse, it was a modern art gallery. Before I walked in, I told myself, "Jenaya, this is an art museum. Make the best of it. Learn something." But my pep talk didn't work. It's not just this one here in Melbourne. It's all art places. They're just so weird to me. Maybe if I got a modern artist to explain modern art to me, I'd understand it. Probably not. And it also didn't help that I didn't read a single placard explaining the work I was supposed to be aw-ing and amazed by. There just seemed to be too many words on the thing--wasn't 160 characters or less.
AND THEN, I had a baby life crisis in the middle and almost went to go hide in a corner because I started thinking about my life--never a good thing. I thought about how this whole museum is full of wall after wall and picture after picture of weirdos making weird things and seeing the world from a weird-weirdo perspective. And then I started thinking about my perspective and how it makes perfect sense to me, but to few others. So then, I thought, maybe if people saw what was in my brain, they'd think it needs to be in a museum--maybe an ART MUSEUM?!?!!! DOES THAT MAKE ME A WEIRDO?
Probably.
Ugh.
As I reflected on this more over my freshly squeezed hipster juice, I thought about how many weirdos there are in the world and how, really, the weirdos are the ones who make the world colorful and interesting to live in. Like if there were no weirdos, this planet would be monolithic, lackluster, and jejune (yes, I cheated and just my thesaurus app for that word). So once again, I've reaffirmed that yes, I'm a weirdo. Yes, I'm cool with that.
I did like the interactive exhibits in the museum. I made a necklace. It is cool. I guess that makes me a 7 year old.
Great.
Now, I'll talk on the other side of my mouth. Before this whole art museum adventure, I got a bit behind the group cuz I'm always getting distracted. This super cool Aussie that was maybe mid-50s stopped my friend and I who are both Black and says, "Oh my! You both are absolutely beautiful!"
Now I don't do well with compliments--especially of my physical stature just because......well, just because. But he was a photographer or at least played one very well since he carried a camera that was the equivalent of 8 months of my rent. I chatted with him for several minutes and really, sincerely appreciated his comments. It's something to hear (which doesn't happen often) comments of one's stature from a "Oh girl, you're so sexy/fine/beautiful/etc." in an "I want you" kind of way, but I felt when he told me, that it was from an artistic standpoint. Like, maybe my body and shape was/is art. Maybe I am fearfully and wonderfully made by my Creator Jesus. I was very honored and felt like I should think of my actual physical stature differently after this. Not that I'm beautiful or attractive or pretty or something. I am art.
This is going to make me put lotion on differently. I might even shave my legs more than once a month. Wait, that last part is stretching it. :)
After talking to this guy, I realized that I'm not a hopeless case when it comes to art. His photography is absolutely stunning and makes me smile. He told me he specializes in landscape and African wedding photography. Here's the link!
Long blog short, I'm grateful for the artist. I still don't understand the strange ones, but know that they have to do and think and reflect on their world--and should be given space and respect in order to do so..just like I have. All who live and think and interact and breathe and fulfill our purpose are branded "weirdos"--and oft by those who are not doing those things mentioned in the first part of this sentence.
Instead of a weirdo, call me an artist.
Saturday, January 4
Melbourne--Finally!
So basically, I made it to Melbourne, Australia. A few highlights:
1) Sat across the aisle from the Fiji version of my fine for no reason trainer.
2) My ankles and feet are swollen to the size of a 12-month preggo woman.
3) I am officially a die hard tennis fan after seeing the SUPER HOT Australian Open tennis players in the airport.
4) I took a shower in an airport.
5) I saw the island where Castaway was filmed and saw a HORRIFYING sea cucumber.
6) My room has WIFI--and a door that I can close at will. Praise Him.
7) Sand, glitter, and Sexually Transmitted Diseases have a lot in common.
Thursday, January 2
AussieLand Part 1
Well I'm on a plane...again. I'm rather geeked but would rather not be on a plane. I want a superhero cape and maybe an Iron Man suit instead. But until try to make one compatible for my doc-student-budget-crisis, I'll be traveling like regular humans.
While typing this, I've been thinking about the last time I blogged and it has been at least a year or 2. A brief update, I'm not "newly Master degree'd" as my profile summary says. I'm actually almost "newly Doctor degree'd" now. I'm still single, ugh. I still wear a Fro but it is more ginormous now. And I still travel.
Since it IS the new year and this IS my final semester of school for a long while (at least til my mid-30s), I guess it would be appropriate to blog about things that cross my mind--of which there are many.
I can't promise anything because I do have to write a dissertation which will be a journey. But I'll attempt to have a thought dump here. Feel free to peruse and vicariously live my journey or just creep around and spy. I like both types cuz it reminds me that someone cares about me and thinks I'm cool or something.
So here it begins. Australia, here I come!
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