americanised

I thought I was writing a blog entry until I realised, 1000 words in, that I was writing a story. I think my creative genius is becoming impatient with me. It wants to get serious, but I keep flirting with ideas and not committing. I promise I will remedy this, creative genius, because writing a short story in a blog is like saying the wrong person's name during sex. It was a close call.

I'm back working now, which is apparently cause for laughter or disdainful expressions to some people. Whatever. I'll return the favour and support when I am earning three times as much as them because I sucked up my pride. I'll also send pictures of all the things I can afford and they never will. Ha!

Being mean aside, I had a visitor from California. The timing was great, since I was on days off and could play tour guide for this wonderful place we call Japan... I mean Cairns. Seriously, even Poon (the dude visiting) was in awe at the Japanese population present. It was the first thing he noticed! That, and probably the poor weather. Not that I mind the rain at all, it's just that when you want to see the reef, it's not a great time for it.

Nevertheless, we braved the boat trip and saw the reef against all odds and currents. It might have been windy, rough and Japanese-ridden, but there were fish! FISH! An elderly woman hero-worshiped our valiant swimming efforts. We were the pioneers to her.

On the return trip, the Vomiting Orchestra performed once more, though not in all its surround-sound glory like the first trip. We held our lunch with ease, even while living on the edge.

After the stormy reef visit, we met up the next day to check out the Skyrail. I was a little annoyed to discover that the weather had improved (marginally, but enough to make a difference) despite the all-wise ticket lady's information. I'd never been on the Skyrail, so it was all new to me. New, as in, the trees looked different from above. And closer. Not much fauna can be seen, but it's an interesting way to get into Kuranda. Much better than spending the time driving, especially since Kuranda is like a giant shopping center with streets.

Next was the Mangrove boardwalk. Poon was convinced I wasn't serious when I first mentioned this, but he soon find out the joke was him! Or something. Anyway, I hadn't been on that boardwalk since the fifth grade. I had memories of things thrown in the mud and girls being chased with sticks. I hope I was informative. I managed to convince myself I knew what I was talking about, except when we came across bizarre holy spheres. It was strange to see trees with more roots than Paris Hilton (only Aussies will get the root reference) and mud skippers. I forgot how odd they are.

The nighttime was a time of meeting other Cairns folks who Poon knew. Of course, venues were mixed up so we were forced to steal bread from Fasta Pasta before making a dash to another restuarant. I may have to wear a mustache when I visit Fasta Pasta next.

It was good to see the crew again. Even though I stopped playing the same game, they are great people and interesting to boot! The stereotype for gamers just doesn't fit for those I have met so far. Sure, you might not understand some conversations, or relate, but that's the case for so many things. I know if I sat with a bunch of nazis, I wouldn't understand or relate to what they were talking about.

I discovered that one of the crew goes spear fishing. That, to me, is awesome. In fact, I hope to join him on a trip and test my bravery in the water. Oh man, too much fun!

After dinner, we parted aways; the group and Poon and I. I enjoyed his visit. It was a well-spent couple of days. The crazy pictures featuring him weren't a lie either: he really was the guy having a ton of fun on a world trip. And that's such a good thing when traveling alone. Because if you aren't having fun, you really are alone.

Of course, the next night I was back at work and it wasn't such a good thing. For starters, I was a one-man army against an impressive array of dishes. Later I was almost doubled over in pain after a broom handle attempted to crack my testicles. My apron saved me, diverting the dangerous blunt weapon away and leaving me staring after it in consternation. When I got home, there was no hot water to shower with. Fine, screw you Thursday night.

Back to normal.

- G ζ.

image of a beauty, thoughts of a dream
supposed to be hard and not so simple
eyes of a heaven, lips of a goddess
and now despite myself I fall under