A non-verbal semi-retraction, sort of

I have a friend called Christian who prefaces many of his sentences with “Here’s the thing”.  Not knowing how else to preface this, I shall take a leaf out of his book (his book, by the way, is a brown leather bound affair on which he has crossed out the embossed “Journal” and instead written “SORCERY!” – so I know his book is legit). Here’s the thing… Writing non-fiction, or semi-non-fiction, or creative non-fiction, and sometimes even fictional fiction, tends to offend people.  Writing a blog about your life in which you mention the details of your most recent relationship (or non-relationship, as the case may be) is also guarenteed to offend someone (namely the most recent ex-not-boyfriend). Writing...

A non-emo post about my love life

I always intended to be candid about my dating life in this blog.  Why?  I don’t know really.  I’m candid about most things, and lack the foresight to comprehend the potential repercussions of blabbing about my personal life all over the internet.  Also, sometimes my love life is kind of interesting. For example, on my 2009 trip to New Orleans (back in the heady days where I could only imagine the day that I might actually get to live here) I mistakenly embarked on a holiday romance with a young man who I later discovered was on the run from the law, having breached the terms of his bail in Kansas, where he had served a sentence for aggravated assault.  Through circumstances beyond my control, I ended up living in a garage in Kenner with this young...

No, I did not die in the hurricane.

  I haven’t updated this blog in quite awhile, and given my last entry, you’d be forgiven for thinking something terrible happened to me during Isaac.  Like maybe I stepped on a downed power line, or somehow managed to drown in seven centimetres of water (that’s about an inch, for those of you playing at home!). But nay.  In truth, Isaac wasn’t so much a frightening display of nature’s majesty as it was a major irritation.  Around here, folks refer to such events as “a hurrication”.  But actually, after the second day without power it becomes substantially less of a novelty. Fortunately I was lucky enough to hole up in my friend’s parents house, which had a generator (which meant we were able to run fans, the...

Cats and Catastrophe

I promised to deliver on cat pictures at some point during my sojourn as a blogger.  Let today be that day. Had there been some sort of vote in high school for ‘person most likely to be found rocking in a corner cradling a basket of kittens’ I am confident the voting public would have cast their ballot for me.  I am, generally, a well spoken, articulate young woman.  However, immediately a cat is in the vicinity, an alarming change comes over me.  It’s sort of the way some people are with babies.  Or the way Kirsten Bell is with sloths.  To quote that one crazy lady from that one short lived internet meme “…I’m sorry.  I’m thinking about cats again.” At home (read: in Australia) I have two cats.  They are both...

A room of one’s own

I feel like I’ve settled in/caught up with myself just in time to start school/work/my actual life here.  Throw in a weeks drinking and a horrific three-day demon flu (note: not actually the flu, but I felt nasty and therefore I get to call it what I want) and you’ve got a recipe for one spaced out, sulky, not entirely sociable Kia. This was, arguably, one of the least good times to get sick as this week was the last chance I had (before school starts) to sort out things like a driver’s license, a car, a social security card, and all manner of other stuff you need to get anywhere (both physically and metaphorically) in the United States. It turns out that, since I don’t have an American driver’s license, I cannot legally purchase a...

Baby you can’t drive my car

I promised you a ‘ranting about my car situation’ post, and I never fail to deliver. When I first planned on moving to New Orleans, I was pretty ambivalent about getting a car.  The public transport here (well, the street car at least) is fairly reasonable and if you live centrally you’re never far from a grocery store or most other things you might need (you’re a little more fucked if you’re after a chain store, or a mall of some kind – but hey, you’re living in New Orleans.  Fuck Walmart).  I figured I’d public transport it to wherever I needed to go, up to and including college/university.  I mean sure, I love driving.  Driving is one of my favorite things to do.  But I was kind of excited about the idea of...


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