The invaded become the invaders.

Today Kate told me that next year, if I am still in Australia I will be upgraded from Portuguese to Malaysian.

Besides the ongoing news of my many changing forced ethnicities and identities, being a Canadian international student studying in Australia and my ongoing book ambitions….

I moved to another unit. I took awhile but it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Luckily Carol was there to help in sprit, as she offered her assistance through astral projection on msn. Maybe that’s why the suitcases didn’t seem so heavy.

Joan even offered to help, but because I have this desire to do things my way and my way only. She left after moving one suitcase. I wonder if it was to get away from the wrath that is the angry nerd Mel-issa or if indeed she actually was tired. I apologize for my behaviour by the way. I am now physically and mentally tired. Tomorrow I suppose I’ll spend time unpacking the stuff I packed over.

And for once I feel like the invader, not the invaded upon. It’s the new flatmate scenario in reverse.

To invade according to the dictionary means:

1. To enter forcefully as an enemy: go in with hostile intent.
2.To enter like an enemy
3. To enter as if to take possession.
4. To enter and affect injuriously or destructively, as a disease.
5. To intrude upon
6. To encroach or infringe upon
7. To permeate
8. To penetrate; spread into or over.
9. To make and invasion.

Perhaps it’s the fifth one I am feel most associated with at the moment. No my new flatmate doesn’t hate me. She is nice, a psychology student at uni, named Tarryn. I feel like the invader because it’s the awkward first meeting type deal and because it doesn’t feel like my home yet.

And for some reason Joan is sadder about me switching units than I am. Perhaps it’s the illusive change that has popped out of nowhere, now prevalent in the switching of my living space. Maybe it’s because there is so many memories good and bad attached to my old unit. But, less she forget many more good and bad memories can also be made in my new home, once I have adjusted and I don’t feel like I am invading someone else’s home. And maybe just maybe it’ll feel like my room again once I put up my hoards of pictures.

And now my next point of this blog entry. I am a pack rat. Its amazes me the amount of things I accumulated being in that unit almost a year. Some of it makes no sense.

Anyways about the pack rat thing, my mom is a pack rat so I am sure I learnt some of her habits from here. Today I watched Dr. Phil. (Yes I watch Dr. Phil. )Today’s episode was about extreme hoarding or pack rats. He said that often amassing material possessions is a way to control the feelings inside, that in order to control the internal someone may control the external as a coping mechanism. For example grieving the loss of a loved one or perhaps as a way to feel better about ones self because they control the inanimate objects around them rather than dealing with their true feelings. For some reason I think that describes me and I don’t know why either. And today as I moved my belongings, I thought are material possessions really a big deal? It’s going to mean nothing once I die. Is there a reason why I feel the need to save things?

I also realized today that I am emotionally attached to my book. I’ll write more about this conundrum later. I’d be happy if you feel inclined to read it. Chapter 41 is currently under development.

P.S. Brown Dog is white not brown and belongs to Mrs. Bruce Willis Man. Not Lauren Such and Such. That is all.