Shenannigans in Lewisham

Today, I wasted a perfectly good triple free.

I needed to drop off the audition video I made for spec (which I was up until 1 am burning to a disk. It's harder than you'd think); so the moment recess started, I vamoosed from the school grounds to catch a train to Lewisham via Redfern, because for whatever ridiculous reason, The Arts Unit is based at Lewisham Public School. As one would.

Regardless. After traversing the inner west for a while as I actually searched for the school, I finally found the blasted school. At which point I had to work out where to deposit the bloody audition DVD. Luckily for me, there was a lovely young administrative drone who happened to step outside as I pondered possible routes of delivery, and who proceeded to take said DVD for me to deposit with whomever it was meant to be deposited. So thank you, kind stranger affiliated with The Arts Unit.

Aaaaaaaanywhom, I then headed back to the station (although this time via a far less circuitous route - I love learning from mistakes), at which point I got to wait on the rather hot platform of Lewisham station, before getting onto an even hotter train. I mean we're back to analogies regarding Satan's armpit here. Although I suppose the fact that I was in full school uniform down to the stockings wasn't helping matters. Gosh does that stuff insulate.

On the train, I happened to run into Katelyn Campbell, which was lovely, seeing as we hadn't actually seen each other since year 8, wherein we had [a certain mildly crazy biology teacher who now runs enviro club] (ever since that post earlier this week, I'm ensuring I don't actually put in any names lest any more shit hit any more fans). So basically we spent year 8 science choosing hair colours and reading science fiction. Such fun.

And (much to my satisfaction) I made it back to school in time for a lunchtime dance rehearsal.

I just can't help but think that I would have had FAR more fun coaching year 10 Lacrosse. There's just something innately enjoyable about yelling at juniors (for those of you who haven't yet noticed, I consider anyone below year 12 to be a junior) to shove each other out of the way, to be more violent etc. Terribly entertaining.

Oh well. Come next term, I'll be working with [the new head teacher PDHPE, a certain diminutive redhead] to get an interhouse Lacrosse competition going. Gosh I'm pumped.

Oh Bugger. I just realised that I neglected to sign back in upon my arrival at school. That might be an issue come next week.

My Namèd Stick

I have a name for my stick.

I wanted to name it after one of the Furies (who - interesting historical sidebar - were born from the droplets of blood in the sea resulting from Cronos' castration of his father, Uranus, the separated appendage having been tossed into the ocean), so my options were Tisiphone, Megaera and Allecto.

Megaera would have, in my opinion, led to too many parallels being drawn with Hercules (the disney extravaganza), so that option was out.

Tisiphone did wage some righteous slaughter in Aeneid X, but Virgil described her as pale. My stick is predominantly black. That just wouldn't have meshed.

And thus, although J K Rowling got there first, my stick is named Allecto the Destroyer (because Monica suggested 'the Destroyer' and it had a nice ring to it).

Here's a photo. My stick's the black one.

My Nameless Stick

I got a Lacrosse stick today. At long expletiving last. It's black with silver and yellow. It matches my mouthguard. It's awesome.

It requires a name. So far the ideas are:

Biggus Dickus
Lord Archibald
The Basilisk

Input muchly welcome.

Lacrosse

Today was the first game of the new Lacrosse season. This made me happy.

I sustained numerous arm and shin bruises, which means I spent a very productive hour playing.

I have the post-violent-sport happies :)

See: I'm so happy I did a smiley face.