Dude, so – here's this post, and hopefully I'll be able to get one more out to you guys before I leave for New Zealand on November 14. I'm not sure what Internet looks like after that...but I will be home on December 5 (not staying in this hemisphere indefinitely, like some people worried), so cheers to 25 days until en zed (as Aussies pronounce NZ) and 39 days until the great land of AMERICA. Also this post looks much longer than it is. The bottom section is totally optional.
Time out--who am I kidding? The whole thing is optional.
33. When I brush my teeth, I move my head more than my toothbrush.
I guess some of this week's lessons are going to be more what I recently learned about myself than Australia. Sorry about that. Australia has fallen into the routine - it is now routine that I live here. I wake up in Australia, go to class in Australia, go to the gym in Australia, come home to dinner in Australia, watch some TV in Australia, and go to sleep in Australia. And sometimes I forget it's not normal to be in Australia.
34. Question: Why has no gym and/or engineer developed a technology that harnesses all the energy produced in gyms? I'm a genius.
So I joined a gym a few blocks away for $30 for the month to try not to come back with extra weight (planes are strict about weight and if they find out I have ten more pounds on me than when I came, they might freak out so...). But I also took physics last semester. And my dad put in solar panels this month. And Australians’ energy bills are through the roof. So I was thinking about all the wasted work and energy in gyms. HOW HAS NO ONE THOUGHT OF THIS?
35. If there's not enough energy and community on a knight bus, it's not hard to create.
Ha, so I just now realized I typed that as if it was the "night" bus that existed in Harry Potter. That was actually, honestly on accident, although I do think of those every time I ride a night bus. Night buses are the ones on the weekends that run at the hours no one should need them - I think like midnight until 3 or 4 a.m. I was complaining to my roommate about how quiet ours was - I figure people on night buses are coming back from parties, so why aren't they more fun? Naturally, I proceeded to turn around and create some fun with whoever would join in. Since my roommate wouldn't, I turned around and asked if anyone would like to play a game with me - the specific game is the one the main characters play in the movie 500 Days of Summer when they're sitting in the park...yelling certain words. It's horrifyingly embarrassing and funny and juvenile and immature... I played with random night bus people and it was hilarious.
36. Baptism by immersion is a beautiful, moving picture of crucifying the old self.
At Hillsong on Sunday, I saw baptism as I had never seen it before. There were so many people being baptized that they just ran the baptisms on a side stage, not miked (how DO you spell that word?) but put up on the big screen and just continuing, one after another as we all sang the song "God is Able." Being from a tradition of infant baptism, this was even more out of the normal for me. However, it was incredibly moving to sing the song "God is Able" and watch as person after person, of all different ages, was dipped into the water and brought back up again - the amazing symbol of the death of their old selves and their birth in Christ. The joy on each face afterward, the hug they received from the pastor baptizing them - it was a truly moving experience.
37. There seems to constantly be a need in the "progressive" academic world to always disagree with what's going on NOW.
Okay this is another pet peeve. If margarine is the low-fat healthy idea right now, then you better bet "progressive people" are going to say that actually, butter is more healthy. If culture is becoming more efficient and work-focused, the "progressive people" are going to say we need to slow down and focus on family and relaxation. If culture is focused on family and relaxation, "progressive people" say we are unmotivated and lazy. If Christians try to be tolerant and accepting, "progressive people" say they are watering down the truth. If they preach the truth and stick to it with no exceptions, "progressive people" say they are unloving and intolerant. I know I'm simplifying it ridiculously and probably over exaggerating but. It's lose-lose. (Also, that's an Australian thing I just did - end a sentence in but for no good reason.)
38. You're not old when you go to bed at 9:30 and get called a grandma. You're old when you go to bed at 9:30, get called a grandma, and don't care. So I am old. And I rather love it.
39. Australia doesn't like my face.
I'm not kidding. First, I am writing this email with two stitches in my face, underneath my right eyeball. Second, I could say I got hit by a car last week, but I guess it's more accurate to say I hit a car. I have been debating what version of this story I'm going to tell. Here's the short - I got tanked by a surfboard at Manly beach yesterday for the stitches and a very unaware driver clocked me on my bike opening his car door last week. The slightly longer version of the surfboard story is below if you're interested - and the funny thing is that it happened at almost exactly the moment my sister Shelly was telling a friend of hers that I hadn't had a chance to surf yet. Ha. Still haven't.
Surf Story [told in dramatic fashion]:
…We got our wetsuits and boards and about thirty seconds into being in the water, life got interesting.
Three of us girls had just gotten tossed back a bit by a wave so I chose to dive under the next one - as did my roommate Kelly - letting our boards float back since they were attached to our ankles. I came up out of the wave and BAM got clocked by what turned out to be Kelly's surfboard. My right eye immediately teared up and I was like man that hurt and just turned away for a minute to shake it off, thinking it was probably going to bruise. Turned around, yelled to Kelly, "Dude your board just tanked my face!" and got a horrified look and slight scream as a response, followed by, "You're bleeding!! Guys help, she's bleeding!!" …So I get it, I need stitches. Anyway, I told the nurse she'd have to wait to stitch me until my other roommate, Jamie, came to hold my hand (literally) because there was no way on God's green earth someone was going to sew my face and put needles in it while I'm alone. Long story still long, I called Jamie, she walked in to see me sitting in the waiting room holding a bloody tissue to my STILL BLEEDING face and bawling my eyes out. No joke. Then we go to the room they call "the surgery" and the doctor proceeds to stitch me up while I cry and hyperventilate and bounce my legs all around and squeeze the bones out of Jamie's hand…. And that's basically the story. Still went out and sat on the beach after it was all said and done (with a shirt over my face).