And no, that's not a Russian surname.

 

Not much to report. Stuffall has happened in this New Year. I've received word that Green will be moving back up here (not my city, but much closer than she is now), and my mother is apparently sending me some sort of parcel. Ro gave me, as a late christmas present, the collector's edition of Silence of the Lambs, lucky me.

 

Jobsearching isn't going very well. Not only is there not a lot I am able to do, being without a driver's license and a university degree; but this anxiety thing isn't helping matters much either. Naturally it's listed on my record; and although it's only mild my record doesn't say that. Employers look at the little footnote that says "anxiety issues" and automatically assume I'm a raving nutcase prone to fits of paranoia.

 

Okay so the last bit is accurate but still.

 

Honestly though.... I can't get these degrees or even finish highschool again just to get the stupid piece of paper. Considering I can't afford to live on my own and living with a housemate is troublesome enough (financially-wise anyway), going back to classes is not an option. While the government does give an allowance to students in my circumstances (I'm on it now), the money in question is pathetic. As in, less than $150 a week. Now while free money is not to be sniffed at, that pitiful pittance is not nearly enough to pay for rent, groceries, electricity and so on and so forth. The way it works is either you work full-time or you study full-time - and considering I don't have the support of free food and a free roof as most do, I have to find full-time work; because my priorities dictate that I must have food to put in my face and shelter on my face so it can continue BEING a face and not a dead piece of meat with holes in it.

 

It's not looking good. There's a computer administraion traineeship I've signed up for (whether or not I'm even considered for it remains to be seen) but let's look at the facts. As educated as I am, it means dick without the piece of paper saying so. I may have passed the exams but without the stupid slip nobody will take me seriously even were I to stand before them reciting Hemmingway. The anxiety, as well as ruling out high-profile jobs in the central business district of the city, is closing some opportunities due the stigma attached to it. Lack of money means lack of a car as I cannot afford to even pay for driving lessons, much less pay the exhorbitant prices for petrol pertaining to doing ANYTHING with cars now, or pay for mechanics to fix it when it breaks down; much less actually BUYING one of the damned things in the first place.

 

So no transport, anxiety issues and a debateable education. I need to be making enough money to pay for my bills, and I need to have shelter on my face (which of course requires even MORE freakin' money). Unless I luck out and land this traineeship (and I sincerely hope I do) I've only one option left - the military.

 

And in all honesty I would rather rip off my genitals and throw them into a crocodile pond. I may be nearing rock bottom but I'm not dead yet, dammit. You'll not take me, you bastards.

 

It makes me wonder if this is exactly what John Howard had in mind when he altered all of the workplace and education laws to suck up to Dubya - to refill the rapidly-deflating Army and Navy by forcing students to enlist.

 

Anyhow.

 

If at all humanely possible and Goddess willing I will not have to resort to such desperate measures. It will be a dark day indeed when I allow myself to be treated like shit just so jumped-up bald fuckwit in bad khaki can get off over yelling unintelligibly. Even if I did, it would be something that keeps me as far away from the line of fire as possible (Australia isn't in any conflicts at present, but when the shit DOES hit the fan, the ones with the training will be the first ones to be sent) so most likely I'd be in a cosy base monitoring radar or something, but still. The Australian military can go fuck itself with a goddamned barge pole. I refuse to get myself into a job that will mean I'll have to follow someone else's braindead orders over my own personal beliefs and morals.

 

CO:     Neko, I want you to go to Iraq and blow up some of those awful goddamned towelheads

           because they attacked America's freedom.

Neko:  And I want five million dollars and a supermodel on each arm but that's not going to happen

           either.

 

Something tells me I may have a teensy widdle problem with authority.

 

It's a slow day, so I'm going to head back upstairs and keep reading. Ro loaned me a book and I'd like to finish it before she comes over later today to collect it.

 

Have fun, and remember: It's all fun and games until someone loses a kidney.

Whee, this dirt ball is one year closer to going down in flames. Another lap around the sun and we're older and wiser.

 

Okay, maybe just older.

 

Christmas went well. I got to spend the day with my grandparents and Green; which was wonderful. I was able to catch up with all of my family - namely editing some stuff for Green and giving her Diablo II for Christmas, sharing a political discussion with my grandfather regarding the Intervention, gossiping with my aunt and watching a James Bond film with my grandmother (who is a big fan and owns every Bond film ever made), all while eating delicious stonefruit. My aunt went one further and bought several punnets of strawberries, which are my favourite fruit. Typically I didn't notice them until later on in the day.

 

Neko:  ....okay, which beautiful soul bought the strawberries?
Aunt:   That would be me.

Neko:   *glomptackle*

 

Christmas dinner was fried prawns with potato salad, normal salad, ham and orange and onion; all of which was homemade. Green and my grandfather gave me a new book (a big shiny Wilbur Smith one called Warlock, quite good save for the horrific rape-and-murder combo at the end, it turned my stomach), my grandmother bought me a big box of chocolates, and my aunt got me a beautifully-crafted wooden documents case.

 

Scary that these people actually know what I like. Scarier still is the fact that they're related.

 

When I got home I promptly called Sai to see how her Christmas went (okay, maybe not promptly, I needed to sit for a little while first) and she thouroughly owned me with her quick wit.

 

Sai:     So what did you do for Christmas, Neko?

Neko:  Not a lot. Basically I just ate cherries all day.

Sai:     ...hmm, where have I heard THAT before?

 

I couldn't help but laugh. Yay for quick thinking and implied innuendo. Not to be outdone however, I riposted. That proved to be my undoing.

 

Neko:  Well to be fair, they DID all belong to the same person...

Sai:     Yeah! One of your relatives!

 

There was just nothing I could say. That's it, game over. Please insert quarters.

 

Much to my annoyance, Green had to go home early which she did earlier today. The original plan called for them to stay until Friday, but due to unforeseen circumstances they had to leave. These circumstances were that their house had been broken into, and all of my grandfather's firearms stolen along with most of the contents of the refridgerator.

 

Who the hell steals guns and helps themselves to a snack? People with no common sense or sense of property, or maybe ones that are hungry.

 

Here's the part that pisses me off.

 

My grandparents and Green live in Finke (aka Apatula). My grandfather is the Chairman of the council there and naturally does a lot of work for the Aboriginal community. He has a strong political standpoint towards the Intervention, seeing as he's involved with the communities nearly every single day of his life; and he's doing everything he can to help them live through most of this government bullshit. He was even interviewed on Four Corners not too long ago (although according to him they cut out most of the interview and by most he meant the important parts). Green is frequently telling me stories of things that have happened around the community that he's helped out with, that the Elders of that tribe are pleased with what he's trying to do. Here where I live the Aboriginal tribe is the Yolgnu tribe, and his standing with them is so high that he's been to corroborrees and an Elder's funeral; and Green, Red and I each have tribal names and can speak a little of the language. Simply put my grandfather is held in extremely high regard with the Northern Territory Aboriginals; and most of the communities are glad to have someone like him on their side.

 

And as soon as he's out of town visiting his family for Christmas, they rob his house and clean out his fridge.

 

If I needed a reason to turn full-blown racist, that would have been it. I can only hope the Elders find those responsible and kick their arses for stealing from an ally; who also happens to be an old man, who wasn't home. Gutless fuckers.

 

New Year's Eve was.... well, interesting. Leaf and Sai dragged me out to some yacht club near the harbour, where a friend of ours was playing bass in the band. He played bloody well, but even so loud music and crowds aren't really my scene as it makes me paranoid and skittish. So as soon as we were able Sai and I went for a walk along the pier, which was rather nice. Near the end of the evening a drunk guy struck up a conversation with the three of us while staring at Sai's chest and then asked me, in that polite inquiring voice that all males use, if Sai and I were brother and sister.

 

If I had said no and glared at him any harder he may have caught fire. I think I actually yelled it at him, I was that pissed off. As it is he's damned lucky I didn't particularly like the idea of picking a fight in front of Sai and Leaf, otherwise I may have rammed my barstool somewhere unhygenic. The place was filled with pretty women; why the hell did he have to try to hit on mine? I can only hope it's because the alcohol was seriously screwing with his fight-or-flight mechanism, because I would have thrown the jerk into the harbour had he tried anything. Somewhat fortunately however, my answer sobered him up and he was quick to wish us all the best and then piss off. It's better to deal with a friendly coherent drunk than an aggressive and incoherent one; even if he's trying to hit on your girlfriend while she's sitting next to you. But still.

 

Aside from all of that, it's been a fairly peaceful week (or since Monday, at least) and I'm in a good mood. Grocery shopping has been done, useless hoop-jumping appointment has been made, and I have an appointment later this month with a social worker. A month or so ago I was told I had mild anxiety problems and needed help; but all things considered I haven't really bothered to talk about it because it seems trivial and a pain in the arse; even if it does explain a lot.

 

Well, I'm tired and I've had some kind of chocolate liquor to drink this evening, so I'm going to have to go get some sleep lest the Underpants Gnomes come and steal my cat.

 

On second thought, let them try. It'd be funny to watch Furball happily crunching on a flailing midget in green and red tights.

 

And remember folks: if you can't beat your computer at chess, try kickboxing.