MacKillop Memoria

I miss MacKillop, I really do.
My aunty suggested that it may be due to the fact that it took you a while, but back in secondary school, you were someone. You weren't just a number or a face in the crowd. Now, you start from scratch again. You have to build a name. Oh, and you have to figure out how to get the tools and the materials to do so....cause you're all alone now. Your independant, except for the fact that you have responsibilities, limits, clauses, conditions and it's completely necessary that you obey the rules and regulations of the society at large. Money is your blood now. And without blood you die. This is the price of independence...slavery. Your life is now a paradox. You are an adult now.
I love my studies. Psychology, Philosophy, Literature, Fantasy for Children and Representations of Reality. I have a thirst for knowledge. Knowledge of man's mind...his soul. I'm fascinated by how a small grey, pink mass of tissue could produce fears, hopes, dreams, loves, hates. The person you pass on the street, talk to at school or work, go home to at night.
I love my spare time. Watching TV (whatever I damn well please). Endless video hire. Books on vampires, alien abduction, true crime, parapsychology, gothicism, romanticism, mystery, intrigue, philosophy, dreams, occult, religion, brain physiology....whatever. Going to nightclubs and watching people writhe. Listening to music. Writing. Chatting in an internet chat room to people who know me as 'Venkman'. Shopping. Watching street performers in the city. Drinking coffee at the "Street Cafe" on Bourke St. Sitting in the Cathedral over from Flinders Street station, where it's quiet, and reading or writing. Walking to work in Ormond, where I wash dishes at "The Steak Bank".
I travel to uni on two different buses. One from the other side of my block, out in front of a Milk Bar, a solicitors office, a pet food store and a surgery that I never ( in all the time I've been in Melbourne ) actually see a patient walk out of. This bus is full of single guys, university students and grannies going to watch Arnie shot some more baddies in "Eraser" or a fleet of pilots lead by The Fresh Prince save the world from an alien invasion. They throw Maltesers at the screen no doubt (can't buy Jaffas at the Chadstone cinema, people just got them to throw at the screen. Guess they'd rather clean up melted chocolate than red food dye from the plush red carpets) and put their feet up on the chairs in front of them, or, if not that, their walking frames. Real trouble makers those old folks. Someone should show them the internet so they can download pornography and receive viruses in neat, quick Email 'parcels'. That'll keep the beggars busy. Until then I get the latest reviews on what films are good from an elderly woman who spends her pension at "the flicks".
The thing about bus travel is that you can't look at anyone else, directly in the eye that is. If you want to do that, wear sunglasses or you'll freak people out. Trust me, I know. I still freak them out wearing glasses anyway, they sit there trying not to stare at me, wondering if I'm staring at them or not behind my glasses. Some adventurous ones even pull faces to test for a response. Look at something else. The scenery flashing by for the hundredth time, the roof, the floor, the bus driver, the bus drivers eyes staring at the dismal crowd behind him in that little mirror of his, his book, her breasts, his wallet, that kid. Just don't look them in the eyes for the love of God. I've started doing some study or reading while traveling. Not really effective though. You only just start to get into it when your stop comes up.
Deakin University is great. People know you by name there, some of them anyway. It was like that at MacKillop. Most people knew most other people. At Deakin you can only greet one in twenty (on a good day), but that's alot better than some of the other uni's I know of. If your lucky, and if you impress one of the top guns, some tutors will know your name before you even see them. You can't fall asleep in lectures at Deakin though. They're big, but they're not that big. One guy suggested I try caffeine as I passed him walking out of his lecture. I just smiled and said something about the fact that I don't sleep anymore cause of caffeine...cans and new 600ml bottles of Coke, coffee, coffee, coffee lollies, Coke, Coffee, Coffee Scroll, Coffee flavoured milk, Coke, Coke, Coffee (I'm lying...there's little caffeine in a coffee scroll). But thanks for the advice anyway.
My fondest memories of my final months at MacKillop originated in study classes. In the common room where the coffee was and the dead turkeys lived (in the fridge). We studied, sure, but the talk was the best bit. That thing we weren't supposed to do. Chat. Our favourite game in our Monday double study was to read Dolly Doctor aloud, or the latest advise for a better relationship in Cosmo or Cleo. Or perhaps something less 'controversial' that someone spotted in a magazine or newspaper would be dragged in to become the catalyst for discussion. Something that took someones interest. It's funny stuff. Nowadays I listen to radio DJ's do that sort of thing. Tony Martin and Mick Molloy can do an even more hilarious version of exactly the same thing, especially if Judith Lucy comes in sporting something about a British political party who wear nappies and get spanked for kicks, or what girls do to get a guys attention. Sounds so very familiar to me sometimes. I'm taken back to MacKillop for an instant. Nowadays I buy "WHO Weekly" and remember the 'old times'. And I couldn't live without 'Expose' for my dose of the weird and the bizarre. I love that stuff. I'm a tabloid junkie thanks to idle chatter in study classes. Maybe chit-chat ain't such a good idea after all.
School camps were the best times. Doesn't matter where you went, it was the people in the bus with you that made the trip. In fact, most of the time, the crap tat went on in the bus was the most memorable stuff. I remember our trip to Melbourne with Mr. Hayley. Year 11 I think. We stayed in a Youth Hostel not far from where Bernadette Smith lives now. The best fun was running from room to room as silently as possible. Basically being kids in a 'young adult's' pyjamas. "Missions", they were. Go to the girls room on the next level, hide under their beds and watch the door muttering to the others under the beds near you that "..at any moment that doors gunna open and we're gunna get caught". That was great fun.
The best memories come from the stuff you weren't supposed to do.
Seems like life's biggest moments come from a group of friends all doing what they're not supposed to. You and your mates against the world.
I miss MacKillop, I really do.
Not the books, the rooms, the chairs, the blackboard, the canteen, the doors that you weren't supposed to walk through, the steps outside a portable.
I miss the people.
I miss the faces I saw going to school, being at school, coming home again.
I miss you.

"Chapter 3,176,528 of the 'Neverending Story' - The Musings of Dan"
or
"...Through The Lair of Dan you pass into the city of woe:..."