23/6/2002 - We’re on Australian time now.

This week has been sort of a blur, so instead of forming paragraphs into a cohesive storyline, I'll just give you some impressions and ideas from the past few days.

All of Sydney has World Cup fever. Pubs are packed, police are in full riot gear, and every news broadcast seems to open and close with the latest scores, gossip, and highlights. Before I came to Australia I had seen exactly one full soccer game and felt pretty fulfilled afterwards. I figured that I could go at least 20 years before I would have to see another one. However. The excitement here is contagious, and before I knew it I was yelling at the television screen. I hate people who do that.

My office (yes, I got a job, more on that in a minute) was empty by 4:00 on Friday because everyone wanted to catch the England-Brasil game, and I stayed in Saturday night with my flatmate, Angela, to watch the last two quarter-final matches. She has a system, which I’m totally in favor of, where you pick which team to cheer for by deciding who has the cutest players. Ilhan Mansiz, the hottie from Turkey who scored the winning goal, was our man all along.

Working backwards, I started my job on Thursday. Hoorah. I got a three-month assignment through the Julia Ross temp agency. Nice people. Of course, after hearing nothing from them for more than a week, the day after I started I got calls from three other agencies to see if I still needed work. Most of them just have jobs that last a few days or maybe a couple of weeks though, and I like knowing that I have something stable with regular paychecks. Want to know what I’m doing? Do ya? You’ll love this. I’m working for the government, sort of, as an assistant adjudication officer for the public transportation system. I’m going to guess that this is the only job I'll ever have with "officer" in the title.

Inside joke for my friends: The office is predominantly female. For everyone else: I don’t seem to work well with women. So of course, there’s not a guy my age anywhere in the entire building.

Anyway, the actual tasks of the job are tedious, but I’m learning all about the waste and redundancy in government. It’s frightening. I’ve also learned that you shouldn’t mess with the public transportation system. If you’re a full-time resident they can revoke your license, issue an arrest warrant, and repossess your belongings to pay off a fine. Once there’s a file with your name on it, they’ll keep an eye on you for years. I recommend you just suck it up and pay your fare. If you don’t live here, well, paying is just the right thing to do.

Swear to God, Brian (Austin) Green walked by me on the sidewalk yesterday. I would also try to tell you that Mario Lopez sold me a falafal roll the other night, but he at least has an alibi with that dead tacky show, The View For Men or whatever. Bleh.

Going further back, I spent Monday afternoon at the Australian Maritime Museum. Don’t yawn, it was better than the episode of Big Brother I watched the night before. I don't know why that show is so big here. (But I am sort of pulling for Farm Boy Marty to win it all.) My grandfather was stationed with the US Navy in Australia before WWII, so it was interesting to learn more about the Australian Navy and their part in history. There are some great exhibits and it took me almost four hours to go through it all. Read more in playing.

More importantly, after I was done in the museum, I went outside to walk around Darling Harbour and see some of the big ships they have docked there. I had my camera out and was enjoying the weather so much that I almost didn’t notice the flock of seagulls around me. I’ve seen these things in other parts of town and have been suspicious about them for a while now. I remember I was by the Customs House a week or so ago and saw them forming a perimiter around the benches. If someone dropped a french fry or part of an ice cream cone, they were all over it. I should have learned my lesson then and known better than to open up my wholesome snack that smiles back until you bite their heads off. As soon as I did, the leader of the pack seemed to start watching me. I told myself I was paranoid, that seagulls couldn’t possibly know that I was eating. But the longer I sat, the closer they came.

Finally, one little cracker (shaped like a fish, tastes like cheese, who thought of that?) slipped from my fingers, and three seagulls dove at my feet. One let out a big squak that must have been a signal to the others, because they all came rushing over. I let out a squak of my own, grabbed my bag from the bench, jumped up, and ran far away, hiding my baked and not fried goldfish from the dirty feathered fiends. The obvious lesson is not to underestimate seagulls and their gang-like behavior.

I went to a dinner for my friend Lori’s pseudo going-away on Friday night. We’re pretty sure she’s coming back, visas be damned. There were six gay men, me, Lori, and one straight guy. That, by the way, is pretty much the ratio for all of Sydney. I had a great conversation with Straight Damian, including a discussion of why Utah is so freaky. He had the misfortune of passing though it during his travels around the States and said that it was by far, the most unwelcoming place he visited. He was talking to some kids at a bus stop, who thought he was Californian because he had an accent, and when he said he was Australian they asked, "Why did you come here?" He wondered the same thing.

The Osbournes are coming to Australia soon. Excellent.

In all, a pretty good week. I was feeling lost for my first couple weeks here, afraid I was in over my head, but now that I have a flat to call home, and a job to call my friends and complain about, I’m beginning to get comfortable. And whenever I think that this was a crazy thing to do, I put on John Mayer and he reminds me why I left.

Check your pulse it's proof that you're not listening to The call your life's been issuing you The rhythm of a line of idle days

So go unlock the door And find what you are here for Leave the great indoors Please leave the great indoors