Further Insights and Revelations

I cut my hair. Again. I’m going to have to be on My Strange Addiction soon. Of course by that point I would probably have just shaved my head and would have no hair left and then it would be a very boring show. Well I decided to switch it up this time and color it as well. I did it myself, with one of those new-fangled foam dyes. The frugal joys of travelling are forcing me to find new ways to do old things, like red hair foam in my bathroom instead of salon treatment. But I don’t mind, because it’s fun to put on those plastic gloves that come with the box dyes. Which always reminds me of a day back in 21 Jump Street when Kelsie spent a heap on money on getting her hair done with highlights and lowlights etc., and then decided three days later she hated it. She asked me to dye it a rich chocolate brown using a box dye she picked up, and I said of course! I used to dye my roomates’ hair all the time! (I wonder if the landlords ever got that stain off the floor…) So I went over to 21JS after work one day and patiently waited for her to be ready. Anyone who knows Kelsie will know that she does everything in her own time, so to keep occupied Jo and I hung out with the always lovely Mary Jane. Kelsie was skeptical about my hair-styling abilities after that, but I assured her it was completely fine and went about getting everything ready. I mixed the colors and then put on the gloves, but apparently the manufacturer was using children's sizing because my hands were too big and they ripped the gloves (ok, also I have big hands) leaving them useless. Naturally, we decided it would be best to tape plastic grocery bags over my hands, which would give me more freedom and dexterity anyway. The end result was, of course, pretty terrible. And because of the patchy nature of her hair for the next few weeks, I called her Calico Kitty. I later found out that in Australia calico is a kind of burlap sack and she had had no idea why I was calling her a burlap cat all this time. (I explained that calico is a type of patchy, multicolored coat that stray cats tend to have). The moral of the story is, do your hair when you’re sober. And always have extra gloves. And my hair looks really good. I have the word of a random man on the dance floor to back me up on that. They never lie.

So anyway I have reached the elusive three months in my time away in a distant land. I’m slightly disappointed to report no major changes. I did not become a new person in a new country. Though people keep telling me I look like Ashley Greene so maybe I could become a celebrity impersonator, which is kind of like a new person. Except the only thing she’s famous for is Twilight and I don’t even want to pretend to have any involvement with that. What I have noticed in my time here, Perth especially, are the differences in other people. Specifically males. Specifically in relationships. Because I’m obsessed with interpersonal connections and if you haven’t picked up on that by now you probably can’t read.

I am constantly observing the male interactions that are happening around and with me. Sometimes I feel like Jane Goodall in amongst the gorillas. But Jane probably didn't get really drunk with the gorillas and end up kissing some of them (I really hope not anyway). Anyway, male bonding is a big thing here. Which is great, because I think it’s important for boys to be with other boys to discuss boy things, just like girls should have girly time. BUT it’s different here. Male friendships, some call them bromances, supersede pretty much every other bond. Maybe it’s because the last boy I was with was in a deep and dedicated bromance, that I am more sensitive to these things. But it seems to me, an outsider of course, that boys generally get away with a lot more nonsense. Take the [admittedly very attractive] man I met last week at a music festival. We hit it off immediately by talking American politics (which I’m 100% sure was utter nonsense on my part), and I was doing my best to smyze at him (which probably looked crazy because I was off my head). All was going well. Until he started draping his arm around my neck (impeding my dancing – big no no) and telling me that he didn't want me talking to any other boys if he was going to hang out with me that day. I am not exactly sure of what I said, but I’m fairly confident that it was something along the lines of waving my arms in the air and yelling “I belong to no one!” Another example would be me, mopping the floor behind the bar at work the other day. In the space of 5 minutes two male staff made wifey comments to me, which I found more silly than irritating, but still.

When I meet someone I think could be nice, I like to chat and get to know them. I do not like to be put into a box or a stereotype because I’m a girl. Gender roles are quite clearly defined over here (perhaps the biggest example of this is that gay marriage is still illegal), which grinds my feminist gears. I’m finding it difficult to connect on a personal level with guys here. Conversely, never before in my life have I had so many female friends. Maybe it’s a Perth thing. Maybe it’s a me thing. Maybe I need to just have fun girly times and not fret about the strange gorillas. Not that I have ever really worried about it since I was 21, but it is nice to go out to a bar and really not be bothered about catching anyone’s eye. I guess it also helps that after I've been dancing for an hour or so I sweat off all my makeup and look strikingly similar to my brother.

Half-baked social observations aside, I’m continuing to have a great time. Even though there are no startling personal revelations I’m getting a huge amount of satisfaction from coming to a foreign country and taking care of myself. I work temp office jobs during the day when they come up (currently on a three week contract, which makes my bank account happy) and enjoy random shifts at the pub some evenings. I’m always meeting new people and I’m less shy than I used to be. I’m not bothered by a lot of things that used to stress me out (possibly because I’m single for the first time in about 10 years. But that could be purely coincidental). Last night I went out to a pub with some friends and only had one drink, as I was driving and I need all my wits about me with the strange noises Holly Holden has been making lately. So I wasn't drunk but I was laughing and I was chatting and I was bouncing from person to person and dancing and I realized that my face hurt from smiling, which is a very good feeling indeed.