Oh how the Cuntiverse does like to shove in her random twists and turns, proving Sartre right when he declared that “in another world, circles and melodies kept their pure and rigid lines. But existence is a curve.”

As I have articulated already, my initial prompt to start pondering a return to university, was my desire to move to Australia or Aeotera after France, and my research into that culminating in the rather deflated realisation that I would need a degree or a sponsorship from an employer. The latter not immediately forthcoming, I set about assimilating the idea of being a student again in a country I had vowed never to go back to. “Going back” being a concept I have extreme difficulties with…

And so, you know, I have made this decision to go to university. I have made this decision, right..?

Yesterday I got an email from a good friend who is currently living in Sydney. Sydney being a city with a fancy looking building that is too small to house its namesake in a country called Australia. A friend who has a room for me in a very fancy neighbourhood, (Nicole Kidman is her neighbour!), a job and wants me to come live with her ASAP. Sydney! Sea! A job! A VISA! Australia! Is Sydney for me..?

Gah! I am so confused! I now have a solution to my initial problem that does not require “going back” or any of the other issues I am going to encounter in the UK. However, am I, after the 3 or 4 years we would be over there, going to find myself back in the position I am now? The position that feels like I am reliant upon random chance, that I am sock sliding inside a crystal ballroom, unable to climb the walls and so stuck, whizzing, vrooming, sliding. Hoping I don’t notice in the blur, in the change, that the skylight is open up there and all I need is some ice picks to climb these walls and that those ice picks lay in a separate room through that door over there, the one I came through…

Out of sheer desperation and a warped sense of humour I did a search for oh jesus lord help me, should i get this degree or move to australia? what about you mama guad, you can answer too!!! and came across these two websites whereby you can submit prayers for the pious to supplicate on your behalf. Does it make me wrong that I nearly fell off my chair for laughing? Do you think they would accept mine? Oh Cunty God, can’t you make one of my cats puke up the shape of one of those stupid hats that I always see on uni websites or a kangaroo depending upon which is the best plan..?

Of course, there is always the idea of going to uni over there, but I have no way of financing the fees for international students. On top of that, would they accept the non-traditional qualifications that I have? Ahem. This is the final moment, the part where you come in and save the day Oh Rich Person That Is Reading This. This is the part where for the Good Of The Whole™ you step forward in all your billions flowing from your ears glory and finance my way through the University of Sydney and their amazing degrees in either Religion or Philosophy. Yes. Yep. This would be the time. You can use the comments section, or the guestbook, or email me, or call me at home on 00 33…

It really does change just so much. There was me with my little self acclimatising my way back to London (or Aberdeen or Brighton), to seeing Handsome *dreamy sigh* Jack again, to uptight English people, to smog, to rain, to restaurants I can actually eat at and now this. This! This thing I wanted more than anything before I thought of other things. This spanner in the works. This fork in the road. This mind blowing decision that might only be solved by the consumption of a certain something. Problem is, I can’t remember what it is…

September 15th, 2004 | Category: Blood and Guts, The Dordogne | Subscribe to comments | Comments are currently closed | Trackback URL