I wish I wasn't such a blusher.

I joined a gym several weeks ago and actually managed to go nearly every day for the last seven weeks. I had a two-week trial period and then paid for five weeks of a legit membership before moving out. I'd never really joined a gym before, but Jesse was pretty used to gyms and showed me the ropes. We got to know the owner and the trainers just by being around all of the time, and by the time we had to quit our memberships because we were moving away, it was a sad affair. For two months we'd been hanging around these people as we hit the treadmills and the weights, and it was one more set of people we had to say goodbye to as we moved out of the city.

The last day at the gym, we felt so sad. After getting off of the treadmill I went to refill my water bottle, and passing the check-in desk, I noticed a new trainer ad on the counter. "Have great sex! Feel good! Eat chocolate, drink beer, and still look sensational! Call Tony for training times!"

I rolled my eyes and refilled my water bottle. The front desk guy that had been really friendly with me for a few weeks said, "What? Don't like the ad?" And I snapped back, "Oh yeah. Like I'm going to call Tony to teach me how to have great sex."

"I thought it was quite clever," he said.

It only takes me a second. "Oh, you're Tony!" I'm immediately red. My ears are burning so quickly.

"I just thought it would get people's attention," he says.

I mumble about how yes, it will get people's attention, haha, and skadaddle back into the gym. Might've cut that workout a little short. Bye, gym!

living in a spaceship, coming up

Big sigh of relief: finals are over. Big things ahead: moving out of my apartment tomorrow. Big worries lingering: hope I passed all of my classes. Big fun coming: two weeks on the south island in a campervan starting November 21. Life, she's a-movin' along.

Just when you thought the tv on in the background was a harmless study tool.

I'm studying with the tv on. A commercial begins, and a father is in the hospital holding his brand new son for the first time. He says, "It's like he already knows who I am." And the nurse in the room says, "Well he's only got one dad, eh?" (Imagine everyone speaking in a New Zealand accent.) New dad flashes back to a memory of him with his dad. New dad is an adult, and he and grandpa are arguing. They shout. Grandpa throws up his arms and new dad screams back at him before storming out the door and slamming it behind him. The sentimental music drowns out whatever it is they were fighting about.

Cut to new dad at home, writing on the back of photos of new baby before mailing them out to friends and family. He begins one, "Dear dad."

Cut to new dad and new mom at their kitchen, seeing grandpa drive up the driveway in his shiny SUV. New dad opens the door. Grandpa stand there, tears in his eyes, trying to peer over new dad's shoulder to see new baby in new mom's arms. Grandpa sees new baby. Grandpa and new dad look at each other. The past is forgiven. Tears all around.

New Zealand Post. Connect with your loved ones this holiday.

GODDAMNIT NEW ZEALAND POST I CANNOT HANDLE THIS RIGHT NOW.



Ahem. Only one more final to go. Put good energy into the universe for me. I need it.

Oh, irony. You're so cute.

Today I procrastinated by reading about procrastination. It turns out I'm not lazy! Only weak! YES!

Things to whine about, I suddenly have them.

So. Finals. Yep. I find final exams extremely painful, which is no new sentiment, but that's what's going on. I reckon I deserve a little misery after four months of loving the shit out of life, but damn, like anything else that's really painful, you sort of forget just how miserable you were the last time you did this until you have to do it again. The first final went okay, better than expected really. But the next two will be soul crushers, so let's just all brace for impact.

I hate to disparage the law school here because this whole experience has been such an enriching little dish of life, but the law school here makes the law school at home look like a palace that geniuses built. Let's see:

1. First of all, I'll admit that I don't study very well at home. I'd much rather fix a snack. Or read a book for pleasure. Or watch a movie. Or have a nap. Or stare at the wall.

2. The law library has extremely limited hours compared to the library at home.

3. The wireless internet is weak and spotty, and that's before you reach your monthly quota of data, and then it's so slow it takes 10 minutes to check email.

4. There are only about 40 carrels for the whole law school population, and they work on a first-come-first-served basis, so there's no way to have a private, quiet space reserved for you.

5. A private, quiet space in which to study just doesn't really exist at school. The carrels are clustered together in the middle of the basement, so even if you get one, there's lots of foot traffic around, people stomping up and down the stairs, chatting and laughing. The law students here are undergrads, mind you. That sort of explains the whole thing.

6. We are not to have food or drink in the library (or the rest of the law school, for that matter). This is a chronic problem for caffeine people. Through the semester, I could live without being able to bring a travel mug of coffee up to class because I'd have coffee at home, go to class, and then just go home. Now, with the imperative studying coming to a head, this no-caffeinated-beverages-allowed rule is killing me.

7. Let's just say that I convince myself to study at home. My little studio apartment (which is fine and good and safe and all) is situated on the one corner of the building that gets direct sunlight from about 3pm to 8pm this time of year. There is no central air, only a column of slat windows. You may have heard that the ozone layer has a hole burned through it in my neck of the woods. The result? If I'm in my apartment in the afternoon, I'm a bug on the sidewalk being cooked by a magnifying glass.

Here is what I look like sitting at my desk in the evening, warmed by the glow of exquisite fluorescent overhead lights:

Everyone likes to have a home office, right? My apartment is just like an office. Literally. Small. Fluorescent lighting. Incomplete kitchen. Squirelly neighbors occasionally knocking on the door. The only difference is a bed.

And here's what I look like while the sun melts my face off and cooks the contents of my apartment/office to crispy well done:

Just shut the blinds, you say? Ho ho! You are so clever! The "blinds" are one big roll-down blackout vinyl curtain thing that no airflow can penetrate. Living on the top floor in the sun-shattered corner of the building makes my apartment hot no matter what, and if I don't get the windows open by about 5pm, the paint starts peeling off the walls it's so hot. But whatever. I'm moving out in just under two weeks, and my last final is next Thursday, so the world will right itself again soon.

Anyhow, the moral of the story is that I don't like finals, the law school isn't very conducive to studying, and my apartment gets hot in the afternoon. Aren't I insightful?

School would be great if it weren't for all the stupid learning and assessment.

Still alive and kicking, although I'm wondering if I can postpone my first final scheduled for tomorrow. I'm pretty sure I have meningitis. I mean, I have four of the eight main symptoms: headache, stiff neck, confusion, and sleepiness. Sure I've been spending an awful lot of time crouched over my laptop, hammering out final outlines. But it's probably meningitis.

Lazy photo-posting, coming right up.

My brothers had steps shaved into their sideburns when they were little. This dude takes it to the next level:

We've been mostly confined to our apartments and the library lately, but it's nice to remember when we used to have fun.