sharing the love

i havent blogged in a while and rather than whinge i thought that this time, i might share the love.
today, someone went out of their way to share the love with me and i was moved. in the cold, dark, hostile environment that i like to refer to as 'the uni', little more than blank stares from ipod-driven drones can be expected (If you really were expecting any more out-of-class human interaction, it would only be with the coffee cart girl,"Have a marvi arvie!"). Today however, whle looking for a carpark, i was assisted by a well-mannered young man in dark sunnies, who directed me towards the row with all of the free spaces - a very nice gesture. i smiled and parked my car. Turning to open my door i had the bejesus scared out of me as i found the shaded-man standing directly outside my car, obstructing my door. this is perhaps a rash reaction, except that 2 seconds earlier he had been 10m away.
it turns out he had run over to my car to give me his parking permit as he was leaving and realised i would need one. i was overcome with affection for the thoughtful stranger. that one kind gesture on a very lonely day, in a very lonely place validated my presence and i felt human.
i never feel human at uni; i too am a drone. i want more, but doubt my ability to do anything about this dilemma.
i think it is perhaps the dilemma of the arts student. Choosing random subjects all of the time, you dont really get to know anyone; you meet other students, but they dont stay for long and you rarely share a class ever again. One exception for me is Leah. i dont know her surname, but we share a passion for hare krishna food and scarves. she was in 2 of my courses last year and turned up in another one this semester (but shes harly ever in class). i really like her; she's very interesting to have a conversation with and we have developed a comfortable repitiore. the problem lies in the fact that she and i have other friends and outside of class, neither of us need the presence of the other. it is for this reason that i envy the on campus students and the course-bound students like the biomeds or the tourism kids.
i have no uni friends, this is the lasting fact. so if you see me around on campus, please share the love.

Critise Me!

Tell me what is good or bad about this piece - as I am handing it in for assesment later.

What should I fix?

TELLL MEEE!


Stare straight ahead. Don’t even think about looking at your father. Keep your eyes fixed on the television screen. The show can’t last forever.

Sunday nights are ever constant. Offering roast dinners, banter around the table, inane questions resulting in answers already known, and after dinner settling around the TV watching period dramas on the ABC.

It’s the end of the night that bothers me. There is nothing more awkward as sitting through a sex scene with your parent. " Contains a sex scene" is the dreaded warning that precedes the program; the booming voice of the warning haunts me throughout the program.

When will this gratuitous sex pop up?

In silence we wait. I begin to wonder what my Dad is thinking. Whether the moments that we share will embarrass him and if he will leave the room to avoid the painful situation. There are some things that are unspoken and will remain unspoken between father and daughter.

At last the scene arrives. Unbearable silence. My eyes are fixed on the telly, I repeat my mantra "Don’t cough, Don’t move, Act normal". My father doesn’t move either. The ABC has changed. When I was young there was never any sex on our public broadcaster, now sex fills the ABC’s agenda, what sacrilege to show a period drama with sex on a Sunday night.

The three minutes of sex seems to last a lifetime. My mind is alert to any movement from my father. I’m worried about what he is thinking. We as children know, of course, that parents are asexual beings. It’s cruel but true: fathers have never engaged in intercourse.

And then it is over. The unspoken is never referred to; and it’s a relief. Perhaps forever we will fall into our routine, painstakingly avoiding these awkward situations, or at least until next Sunday.