Whoa hey lookit! A thing!
Today while hanging outside the assignment box a day after the assignment was due, as we cool Uni-student rebels do, my friend passed me a piece of paper to do with blogging. Not just anything to do with blogging but a competition so to speak to be the official blogger of Murdoch... or something. Read it? Who cares! Blogging! I had to enter this thing to do with blogging! OK there's also other things to win involved in this. So what am I going to do? Enter of course, and then blog about me getting a chance to blog! Basically there's four "assignments" that involve blogging.
Easy right? Totally. Talent required? Most likely. Have I got it? Stop asking questions damnit! The "theme" about this blog has to do with University life of course, and I do that already so I have a little bit of practice. But for this I need to up my game! Going to exercise my blogging muscles and become the greatest Pokemon Trai- I mean Blogger of all ti- this particular situation! So let's roll.
It's blogging time.
...that is definitely not becoming my catchphrase. That's just freaking stupid. Anyway...
Unless you're one of those Vetinary students or just inconveniently parked, the Bush Court is something you'd normally walk through on your way to classes/lectures or a place you'd just visit to hang out with friends during breaks. A little sun never hurt anyone right? Well if you forget, there's a few sun-smart anti-skin cancer posters situated to the West of the Bush Court near the entry to the toilets, just in case you had forgotten that awful edited picture of that man with his skin burnt off with the caption "Forgot to slip slop slap!" Yes, definitely a deterrant right there. I got burnt first time I decided to sit and chat at Bush Court and now I seek out better and more expansive shade like everyone else. Ah yes, Bush Court, place of gathering, eating and smoking. A place to sit and watch those moving from lecture to class, like that guy who dresses up in a suit and tie and walks with his top hat and cane around everywhere. Does anyone even know what's in his suitcase? I wonder if there's more than just a notepad and pen in there... who knows? There's so many interesting people walking past the Bush Court everyday, including that woman with the dreads and the facial hair. No really, it is a woman.
You can see all this just by sitting between the area where various tents get erected for special events that you don't know about until the day they start and the big bronze sculpture of... something amorphous and indescribable. It's "art" just like the white dots on white canvas "painting" near the library entrance is "art". Yes, simplicity evoking powerful emotions? Emotions of disdain for your apathetic talentless painting! As we students sit there under the shade of a beautiful gum tree eating our cheap food from the assorted shops next to the Bush Court, we discuss many things like moving out of home, relationships, nicknames and assignments (that's a great conversation topic. You're never ever done talking about that one and when you've finished talking about it, it isn't long before you've got something new to say). Then, when you put your hand into a bunch of goo that a moment before was your best friend's face you'll freak out and then realise you just put your hand in your friends lasagna that they had scrounged around the few precious coins in their wallet to buy. Damn, that's going to annoy them. Uni life is one assignment after precious payday after another and we cherish it. We cherish it all. Damn right we do! Because it makes you able to appreciate when you realise you finally have enough money to buy from those many stalls that open in Bush Court on Thursdays! You walk up to them and you can buy Pulp Fiction without an ID because you know you're a Uni student now and thus look, act, sound and most likely are 18 and it feels awesome that you had a spare $15 for that double-disc special edition DVD. Damn straight the Bush Court rocks.
Oomph. Yeah, you just got blogged all over by my blogging muscles. Feel them, pulsating... like... a heart. A heart is a kind of muscle. Mmmm... Blogs.