I'm in disbelief, but I have hung out with THREE WHOLE friends from the time spanning 3pm on Friday afternoon to 1pm on Saturday afternoon.
It started at work. It was humming along; an un-difficult lunchtime shift. As I was walking past the kitchen after dropping something off in the dishie area, Fede called me over. I leaned on the metal frame of the kitchen entrance and he stood just in front of me, leaning his left hip on the bench.
"Alessa. Are you working tonight?"
"Nope, thank God." (note the obligatory I-mindlessly-absorb-the-impressions-put-forth-by-American-media-and-(think-I)-hate-work throwaway remark)
"Are you doing anything later?"
"Not really!"
"Do you want to come rock-climbing with me?"
He said it almost like he was putting forth a challenge. And he was; he was throwing out into the space between us a challenge to the boundaries of our friendship. We get along well, Federico and I, but had never hung out one-on-one - save for me tutoring him in English for his IELTS test, but it's a bit different when there's the safety net of pragmatism.
Anyway, feeling too awkward to say no and having to make up an obvious excuse, I found myself with no choice but to say yes. Fede almost seemed shocked himself.
"Okay let's do it then"
"Yeah okay"
"Okay yeah"
... This went on for a while. During this time, I was racing to find a way to get out of the commitment I'd just made, because socialising = scary, especially with someone I wasn't very comfortable with. But then, as I flitted from table to table, taking orders and such, I began to relax into the idea. I like Fede, I'm really not doing anything, and it could be fun. I came to realise - to my dismay - that I actually wanted to do it.
And so I did. Fede and the other chefs got to leave around 2:30, whereas my co-waitress (?) and I didn't leave until 3:15. As promised, I texted him when I got out, and went home to change. I had already planned out what I was to wear at work:
If the picture is unclear, it's just a big white shirt (Lori's Redemption Brand go check her out she's mad talented) and purple and black running shorts. I was scared about having my "fat" thighs out on show, but I sucked it up. Fede texted to say he was opposite my college, so I went downstairs while forcing a banana down my throat (lol). I didn't know what his car looked like, but as soon as I walked out of the front doors I saw him spring up like a starfish next to a rust-coloured car.
I nervously rambled pretty much the whole way there, but I suppose it was necessary because Fede doesn't talk all that much. I don't know if that's just the way he is or if it's a language barrier.
We got there, and suddenly, the prospect of the two of us with each other in vast navigable space was ahead. At the front desk, it was discovered that the fact of Fede's monthly free guest, the entire premise of my joining him, was not true until the 18th of October, which it was wholly not. And here was the awkwardness: I would have to pay to get in. A more delicate person would have not told me what had happened and discreetly paid (even though I could really hear the whole thing), but that is not the frank way of Federico. He told me. Luckily, I was busy filling out the information sheet so I didn't have to invest fully in a reaction. Internally, however, I was very anxious. Should I pay? I would have no problem paying, but just the thought of offering made me really anxious for some reason, in the same way that I want to donate to homeless people sometimes but can't make myself because that would draw attention to myself from the people around me. Anyway, he seamlessly paid for me while I was still filling out the form. I feel bad, but he invited me and he's 11 years older than me, so I think it's okay? When am I going to realise there's no such thing as an okay?
Fede walked off into the rock climbing area while I was still filling out the form which I was disconcerted by and slightly panicked/hurt. Maybe Italian etiquette is different? He probably was just really eager to start because he loves rock-climbing. Anyway, they gave me these toddler-looking shoes and I was set.
Even though they gave me the right size (10, for you fetishists out there), they were TINY. I made a joke to Fede about foot binding but he didn't know what that was and so I had to explain an patriarchal aspect of Chinese history very quickly. Now I can't imagine the pain that foot binding begets, but these shoes were pretty fucking painful. I was too awkward to say anything though, so I just put up with it, sitting down whenever I could, like when Fede was doing a route and I was watching (he must have thought I was really lazy lol). As for the actual rock-climbing itself, I wasn't quite as awful as I thought I would be, but still pretty bad. The whole time, I was navigating the delicate balance between trying hard enough on routes I couldn't finish so he wouldn't think I was lazy, and not trying so hard that he thought I was really into it (passion makes me uncomfortable). It was quite fun, but difficult in the same way dancing is; your strength has to hold in awkward angles. In some cases, I think I might have been able to do better, had my toes not hurt so fucking much.
I must confess, the whole time, I was gloating a tiny bit because a boy I know and have a history with would always ask me to go rock-climbing with him at that exact place, and I never would. He's been very distant the past few months, so I was hoping he might be there so he would be a bit hurt. I know, trite.
I think part of the reason why I was able to make myself go with Fede was because there was a set time limit - Fede had to go back to work. I need that control. I had assumed we'd only be there half and hour or so (we got there at 4) because he's need to be back at work at 5, but 4:45 passed, then 5, then 5:15, before he finally said he should go. Note: this makes it sounds like I wasn't enjoying myself. I was, but when I watch movies, even when they're good, I'm always looking to see how long I have to go before it's over. I think I'm waiting for death, where nothing will ever not be over ever again.
We got back to the parking lot opposite work at 5:37 - even I would have been late, had I had work that night. I shouldn't flatter myself though - it was the rock-climbing he didn't want to leave. Why must I infuse male validation into every friendship?
Appropriately:
So I walked home, very cold in my T-shirt and shorts but radiating leftover exercise heat and pride. People leaving their office jobs were staring at me but I didn't care: I was legendary, immortal, icon - I'd hung out with a friend!
I got home and engaged in ED behaviours for a bit in 'celebration' lol, then got into bed, already a bit sore and very very tired from the social interaction. I'd ordered Grill'd for dinner because I had no food to cook, and also because I was challenging myself. When it was about 10 minutes away, my instagram scrolling was interrupted by a change of screen: "jack warr is calling". (All my contacts are only in lowercase because I'm #aesthetic). I was too anxious to answer his first two, but I answered the third. He, as we had arranged earlier in the week, asked if I wanted to hang. I was very tired and satisfied with my level of socialising for the day, but I knew Jack had been very down lately, so I told him to come over.
I thought I might get away with finishing my dinner before he came, but no sooner had I unwrapped my burger than he knocked on the door, beers in hand. I was very happy to see him but it meant that I had to eat in front of him, which, I suppose, is good practise for challenging ED and social anxiety. (It's so strange that I feel all embarrassed about eating dinner (especially since I'd bought it) in my own home at dinner time when Jack was literally sitting next to be occasionally eating pinches of salt.) We sat at the table and talked for a couple of hours mostly about politics we're unqualified to talk about. He showed me a song he's really into at the moment (remember his love for grime):
Dickson is an interesting place to be at night, compounded by the fact that I repeatedly kept forgetting to manually lock the door on my side. Anyway, we got ice creams and then went to KFC, where the chain officially broke the world record for longest time to make a Zinger box or whatever-the-fuck. In this time, we had some slightly triggering discussions about calories and Jack introduced me to the urban legend that is rugby player Nick "The Honeybadger" Cummins and his dry, absurd similes:
We drove back to his, and hung out as he had his dinner (it was about 10?), and then we had a maxibon each. I really wasn't even hungry / feeling like eating at all, but it would be weird if I didn't eat the ice cream we had bought together, and I figured that "normal" people would have eaten it without overthinking, so I did too. Minus the not-overthinking part. His strange but amusing roommate came out and talked to us about how he was getting laid by this crazy girl the next day and showed me his sword (NOT a euphemism). Jack then showed me his switchblade (also not a euphemism) which was beautiful and mesmerising to a point that I think may have unnerved Jack. Anyway, the switchblade (....COCAINE!) was a segue into showing photos from his three-week trip around the outback with some of his engineering friends. It was beautiful, but not something I would have the hardiness or the patience to embark on. Camping in sub-zero? No thanks. I'm already always mentally miserable, I don't need to be physically miserable. (This is why, when I am sick, my will to live plummets to sub-zero.) He also showed photos from a party he'd had a while back, which I hadn't gone to. I can't remember if I had been invited. I'm not too hurt if I hadn't, but I did feel a twist of jealousy looking at those pictures - they looked so cool, so fun, so drunk; they looked like what uni was supposed to look like.
Soon after the pictures ended, Jack drove me home and I went to bed, exhausted but fulfilled and triumphant.
Chapter One: The Book of Fede
It started at work. It was humming along; an un-difficult lunchtime shift. As I was walking past the kitchen after dropping something off in the dishie area, Fede called me over. I leaned on the metal frame of the kitchen entrance and he stood just in front of me, leaning his left hip on the bench.
"Alessa. Are you working tonight?"
"Nope, thank God." (note the obligatory I-mindlessly-absorb-the-impressions-put-forth-by-American-media-and-(think-I)-hate-work throwaway remark)
"Are you doing anything later?"
"Not really!"
"Do you want to come rock-climbing with me?"
He said it almost like he was putting forth a challenge. And he was; he was throwing out into the space between us a challenge to the boundaries of our friendship. We get along well, Federico and I, but had never hung out one-on-one - save for me tutoring him in English for his IELTS test, but it's a bit different when there's the safety net of pragmatism.
Anyway, feeling too awkward to say no and having to make up an obvious excuse, I found myself with no choice but to say yes. Fede almost seemed shocked himself.
"Okay let's do it then"
"Yeah okay"
"Okay yeah"
... This went on for a while. During this time, I was racing to find a way to get out of the commitment I'd just made, because socialising = scary, especially with someone I wasn't very comfortable with. But then, as I flitted from table to table, taking orders and such, I began to relax into the idea. I like Fede, I'm really not doing anything, and it could be fun. I came to realise - to my dismay - that I actually wanted to do it.
And so I did. Fede and the other chefs got to leave around 2:30, whereas my co-waitress (?) and I didn't leave until 3:15. As promised, I texted him when I got out, and went home to change. I had already planned out what I was to wear at work:
If the picture is unclear, it's just a big white shirt (Lori's Redemption Brand go check her out she's mad talented) and purple and black running shorts. I was scared about having my "fat" thighs out on show, but I sucked it up. Fede texted to say he was opposite my college, so I went downstairs while forcing a banana down my throat (lol). I didn't know what his car looked like, but as soon as I walked out of the front doors I saw him spring up like a starfish next to a rust-coloured car.
I nervously rambled pretty much the whole way there, but I suppose it was necessary because Fede doesn't talk all that much. I don't know if that's just the way he is or if it's a language barrier.
We got there, and suddenly, the prospect of the two of us with each other in vast navigable space was ahead. At the front desk, it was discovered that the fact of Fede's monthly free guest, the entire premise of my joining him, was not true until the 18th of October, which it was wholly not. And here was the awkwardness: I would have to pay to get in. A more delicate person would have not told me what had happened and discreetly paid (even though I could really hear the whole thing), but that is not the frank way of Federico. He told me. Luckily, I was busy filling out the information sheet so I didn't have to invest fully in a reaction. Internally, however, I was very anxious. Should I pay? I would have no problem paying, but just the thought of offering made me really anxious for some reason, in the same way that I want to donate to homeless people sometimes but can't make myself because that would draw attention to myself from the people around me. Anyway, he seamlessly paid for me while I was still filling out the form. I feel bad, but he invited me and he's 11 years older than me, so I think it's okay? When am I going to realise there's no such thing as an okay?
Fede walked off into the rock climbing area while I was still filling out the form which I was disconcerted by and slightly panicked/hurt. Maybe Italian etiquette is different? He probably was just really eager to start because he loves rock-climbing. Anyway, they gave me these toddler-looking shoes and I was set.
Even though they gave me the right size (10, for you fetishists out there), they were TINY. I made a joke to Fede about foot binding but he didn't know what that was and so I had to explain an patriarchal aspect of Chinese history very quickly. Now I can't imagine the pain that foot binding begets, but these shoes were pretty fucking painful. I was too awkward to say anything though, so I just put up with it, sitting down whenever I could, like when Fede was doing a route and I was watching (he must have thought I was really lazy lol). As for the actual rock-climbing itself, I wasn't quite as awful as I thought I would be, but still pretty bad. The whole time, I was navigating the delicate balance between trying hard enough on routes I couldn't finish so he wouldn't think I was lazy, and not trying so hard that he thought I was really into it (passion makes me uncomfortable). It was quite fun, but difficult in the same way dancing is; your strength has to hold in awkward angles. In some cases, I think I might have been able to do better, had my toes not hurt so fucking much.
I must confess, the whole time, I was gloating a tiny bit because a boy I know and have a history with would always ask me to go rock-climbing with him at that exact place, and I never would. He's been very distant the past few months, so I was hoping he might be there so he would be a bit hurt. I know, trite.
I think part of the reason why I was able to make myself go with Fede was because there was a set time limit - Fede had to go back to work. I need that control. I had assumed we'd only be there half and hour or so (we got there at 4) because he's need to be back at work at 5, but 4:45 passed, then 5, then 5:15, before he finally said he should go. Note: this makes it sounds like I wasn't enjoying myself. I was, but when I watch movies, even when they're good, I'm always looking to see how long I have to go before it's over. I think I'm waiting for death, where nothing will ever not be over ever again.
We got back to the parking lot opposite work at 5:37 - even I would have been late, had I had work that night. I shouldn't flatter myself though - it was the rock-climbing he didn't want to leave. Why must I infuse male validation into every friendship?
Appropriately:
Chapter Two: The Book of Jack
So I walked home, very cold in my T-shirt and shorts but radiating leftover exercise heat and pride. People leaving their office jobs were staring at me but I didn't care: I was legendary, immortal, icon - I'd hung out with a friend!
I got home and engaged in ED behaviours for a bit in 'celebration' lol, then got into bed, already a bit sore and very very tired from the social interaction. I'd ordered Grill'd for dinner because I had no food to cook, and also because I was challenging myself. When it was about 10 minutes away, my instagram scrolling was interrupted by a change of screen: "jack warr is calling". (All my contacts are only in lowercase because I'm #aesthetic). I was too anxious to answer his first two, but I answered the third. He, as we had arranged earlier in the week, asked if I wanted to hang. I was very tired and satisfied with my level of socialising for the day, but I knew Jack had been very down lately, so I told him to come over.
I thought I might get away with finishing my dinner before he came, but no sooner had I unwrapped my burger than he knocked on the door, beers in hand. I was very happy to see him but it meant that I had to eat in front of him, which, I suppose, is good practise for challenging ED and social anxiety. (It's so strange that I feel all embarrassed about eating dinner (especially since I'd bought it) in my own home at dinner time when Jack was literally sitting next to be occasionally eating pinches of salt.) We sat at the table and talked for a couple of hours mostly about politics we're unqualified to talk about. He showed me a song he's really into at the moment (remember his love for grime):
He especially loves the bouncy beat at the bottom (I swear it sounds like bells), and said it's very noticeable in his car. So we got in his car and he blasted it in his car Barry as he revved (appropriate) round the parking lot and all the way to Dickson woolies.
We drove back to his, and hung out as he had his dinner (it was about 10?), and then we had a maxibon each. I really wasn't even hungry / feeling like eating at all, but it would be weird if I didn't eat the ice cream we had bought together, and I figured that "normal" people would have eaten it without overthinking, so I did too. Minus the not-overthinking part. His strange but amusing roommate came out and talked to us about how he was getting laid by this crazy girl the next day and showed me his sword (NOT a euphemism). Jack then showed me his switchblade (also not a euphemism) which was beautiful and mesmerising to a point that I think may have unnerved Jack. Anyway, the switchblade (....COCAINE!) was a segue into showing photos from his three-week trip around the outback with some of his engineering friends. It was beautiful, but not something I would have the hardiness or the patience to embark on. Camping in sub-zero? No thanks. I'm already always mentally miserable, I don't need to be physically miserable. (This is why, when I am sick, my will to live plummets to sub-zero.) He also showed photos from a party he'd had a while back, which I hadn't gone to. I can't remember if I had been invited. I'm not too hurt if I hadn't, but I did feel a twist of jealousy looking at those pictures - they looked so cool, so fun, so drunk; they looked like what uni was supposed to look like.
Soon after the pictures ended, Jack drove me home and I went to bed, exhausted but fulfilled and triumphant.
Chapter Three - The Book of Jacq
The next morning, I woke up anxious. This is not atypical, but it was more directed this time: I was to do a photoshoot of Jacq. I'd been wanting to do it for a year, at least: Jacq has a fairy-like look to me, and quite long hair, and this long flowery maxi-dress, and I wanted to incorporate all of this into a project of her with her hair out imitating the weeping willows around Sullivan's Creek at uni. Jacq had agreed, but I was worried because her texts didn't seem very enthusiastic (by the way - I use texts to encompass iMessage, SMS, facebook messenger, whatsapp - get used to it. It caused this weird half-flirting between me and my very attractive lab partner last year when I said "yeah just text me" over FB messenger and he was like "how am I going to text you if I don't have your number?" .... anyway.).
To add to this, Jacq had discovered that her dress was back home in Sydney. She had two shorter dresses that would work, a black floral one and a plain white angel-like one. I chose white, in the end, because even though the black was floral and closer to the original dress, I was using purple lomochrome film (to add to the fairy effect, though that feels like cheating), so the white would pop out.
I was very muched dressed to what I imagined myself to be. I had my hair double butch braided, wearing black docs, black skinny jeans, and a big black band-esque t-shirt with a 'choker' attached, Aunty Janine's gold genesis cross on under and out the choker, gold crucifix earrings, and eyeliner: I was an interesting, creative, funky gal.
I met her at about 12, and we walked to the part of Sullivan's creek near Toad Hall. I put purple lipstick on Jacq and we brushed her hair out and then we were ready.
Oh my god, I hadn't expected Jacq to be so god damn GOOD. I knew she had the look, but she's like... a natural model. She could relax her face perfectly and her expressions were just what I wanted and suited the atmosphere perfectly. Deprecatingly, she just said "I've watched a lot of Australia's Next Top Model" but damn. She should be a model, a real one, not just for some bratty girl with a film camera.
At one point, I crossed the creek to take photos of her across it, and came across a majestic, huge blue tongue lizard sunbathing on a rock. I made Jacq come over to take some photos with her out-of-focus behind it, with it in focus. We named him Oscar.
I used up my whole 36-exposure roll within half an hour - hopefully I used them well. I entrusted Oskar (my brother, not the lizard) with bringing it back to Sydney to give to the developing shop, and according to my father he was rattling it the whole way back, so pray for my film. I should be receiving them, slowly, agonisingly, one photo at a time, in my dropbox over the next day or so. I will post them here, of course.
I don't know how to end this and I've really run out of writing steam, so I'll just say that I'm glad I didn't back out of any of them. They have all brought me joy and art, which, these days, are pretty synonymous to me - hence this blog.
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