Jeez, I can't find my knees.

I just scrobbled my 100,000th song at Last.fm. Of course, for all the predictable disclaimers about this being a totally arbitrary listen of a song, given that 100,000 is a fairly arbitrary number, and last.fm hardly captures absolutely every song I ever listen to. But it still feels nicely momentous.

It happened as I was sitting by my computer playing Picross on the DS, but I can't pretend I didn't see it coming. It could've just as well been any song by Robyn Hitchcock, who I've been listening to all morning, who is my most listened artist for the last 3, 6, and 12 months, and who I saw at The Annandale in March. But to be precise it was (what I have tagged as) "Visions Of Johanna [2]," a cover of a Bob Dylan song, and the second cover of that song on an album entirely comprised of live performances of Bob Dylan songs, Robyn Sings. Interesting factoid: I have 1,641 scrobbles for Robyn Hitchcock, and 51 for Bob Dylan. I'm really not a fan of Bob Dylan... performing his own songs. But in the hands of others, they can fairly superb.

Anyway, I don't really think I have much else to say about the event. Ciao!

Using Diaspora As A Verb

So, turns out I've been in stasis for the last month or so. However, somehow while in stasis I managed to read a few books, play a few games, see a few dugongs and pat a few duck. One duck. One is a few. I also got a visa. A visa to go to the UK. In about a month I'm off to study at St. Andrews, for at least a year. That's right, you heard it here last!

Actually, I'm reasonably terrified about the whole thing. I have never before lived away from home for any large length of time, so that's going to change. I have been incredibly, amazingly academically lazy for the last year, so that's got to change. I haven't even been overseas in the last 13 years, so that's going to change. I'm terribly apprehensive about leaving all my friends here. I fear losing the closeness of my relationships with them (you) all. I fear I could not possibly meet such a wonderful bunch of people. I fear my housemates (I'll be in a university-run sharehouse with 3 other students) might be douchey, or I might be douchey to them. I fear that it won't be easy to go to concerts. I fear that I'll be bored, or that I'll become even more reclusive than I am here.

I don't fear that it will be too cold. I am really looking forward to the change in climate. Of course, I say this now... But it seems like so long since I've been really, reaaally cold. And I miss it. Gonna be awesome. Probably.

I was going to make a list of things that I don't fear, to balance out the other list above. But that's all I can think of. I don't fear that it will be too cold. I fear just about everything else.

So then the natural question to ask would be: why the hell am I going? To some extent it just feels like the natural thing to do. Ever since I left Britain at the age of however-old-I-was, I felt like I'd end up coming back some day. Then, after she finished uni, my sister headed for London with what seemed to me a sense of natural inevitability. Heading to England also always seemed to be on the horizon for my brother, though he hasn't made it out there yet. Then so many friends from my year of uni diasporaed around the world, John, Julian, Mitchell, etc. So many stayed in Sydney as well, but somehow they seemed to be the anomalies.

So yes, it is with a sense of natural inevitability, rather than driving enthusiasm, that I find myself heading to Scotland. There is plenty of excitement, plenty of optimism. But much more fear and apprehension. That said, I'm pretty sure it'll be awesome. I have yet to meet anyone who could tell me that their going overseas was a huge, regrettable mistake. It seems to be almost universally a cherished or enjoyable experience. So despite my worries, I strongly suspect I will find it the same. Still, my worries remain.