Sinister: "I am un chien andalusia..."

[aale002 at xxx.nz]

Hey, all youse freaky peoples,

Well, nothing much is happening here, so I thought I'd share the boringness of 
my life with everyone.  I have another essay to write by Friday, on 
philosophical approaches to the laws of nature (ever tried to _define_ what a 
law of nature is?  Sheesh.)

Ernie Sanches said:

"Andre, I enjoyed your New Zealand dream team list, but where is Martin 
Phillips?  He would clearly be the goal scorer on my dream team, as I’ve 
recently become obsessed with the Chills and believe that they are the best 
New Zealand band."

Actually, I had him as captain of my first team, but then I realised that he's 
not much of a team player, and everyone else (particularly Andrew Brough and 
Shayne Carter) would probably end up killing him, or something.  There's an old 
joke about how you could count the people in Dunedin who _haven't_ been in the 
Chills on one hand....:)

I also wanted to include a lot of the other old soldiers, like David Kilgour 
and Andrew Fagan, but decided they might end up breaking a hip or becoming 
incontinent; which would not be a good thing, given that they're playing for 
the greater glory of New Zealand Aotearoa.  Although they'd _still_ be better 
than the Kingz (don't worry if you didn't get that one-it's not half as funny 
as it should be....)

Thanks to everyone that's responded to my first post, Johan and Madeline, and 
to all those that have welcomed me in #sinister.  (Sorry I've been a little 
distracted and random there-well, I'm like that anyways, but-chatting at work 
isn't exactly encouraged, so I have to pretend to be doing real work every time 
someone walks into the room....:))

Johan, "susurrus" is the sound a gentle brook or a quiet crowd makes.  :)  I've 
loved that word since the first time I heard it...:)  Have you ever thought, 
though, that if we have _enough_ in common, we might actually be the same 
person?  (I've just been reading an artile on personal identity...grrrrr.)

Well, it's official-I hate my flat.  My two flatmates, are sooo different from 
me, it's not even slightly amusing (not even in a grim, gallows-humour kind of 
way.)I have three flatmates, supposedly, but flattie number three, Jess, while 
being a very good friend of mine (and the girlfriend of one of my best friends) 
is almost never at home, so she can't really make things better.  

Brett, who is an Australian and a chemical engineer, who voted for John Banks, 
and who is planning to head back to Oz to do an MBA, still can't contain a 
sneer every time we talk about what I study.  He can't even begin to imagine 
why someone would want to study something as "useless" as philosophy, let alone 
want to make a career of it.  But he likes the Corrs, so I feel like I have 
that over him.  

Jono, the other flattie, fits the computer nerd stereotype so precisely that 
he's beginning to scare me.  He's even got the donkey bray laugh, the wierd 
obsession with Sarah Michelle Gellar and the diet of Kettle Chips, red 
liquorice and Coke (straight from a two-litre bottle! Lord help me...:)) I have 
nothing against nerds in general-crikey, I'm almost half one myself (he says, 
as he pushes aside his Dungeons & Dragons rulebooks....) but there's only so 
much lattitude I can allow.  I simply _can't_ watch any TV when he's in the 
room, because I know the laugh will distract me from any enjoyment I might 
feel.  What's worse is, he _claps_ when he laughs-it's obviously a habit, 
because he does it even when Brett and I are sleeping (or trying to).  Grrrrr.

It's not so bad that they're different from me.  I could easily live with that. 
It's that they treat me as though I'm somehow less important than they are to 
everyday life in the flat.  After Mia, the flattie that Jess replaced left, I 
became the only student there (Jono works[!] as an advertising manager for Time 
magazine, NZ [!]) and gradually, that's meant that I am to be viewed with a 
general suspicion.  Not about anything specific, of course (because there's 
nothing that's been done) but...well, there's a _tension_ when I'm in a room 
with one or both of them, now; a silly, quiet tension that makes absolutely no 
sense.  I feel like I've done something, and consequently end up feeling 
absurdly guilty.  And my friends (including Jess's boyfriend, Ivan the Crazy 
Croat) don't come around anymore, because they get made to feel the same way-
and heaven forbid if any of us have been out on the town.....<sigh> Well, only 
a little while longer, and I'll be through exams.  Then I can move out and find 
a nice, comfy flat. 

Eck.  I didn't intend this to be a moan-fest.  It was the Pixies that made me 
do it, I swear!  Or the Red Bull.....

Oh, well, three weeks and I can start living again.  Maybe I can finally ask 
Sexy Dark Eyed Pink Princess Girl out after that.....

Right-o, that's me.  Hope y'all are Good Little Vegetarian Ninja Foxes like I'm 
trying to be.

Cunning Andre

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