It's the last day for applications for journalism traineeships at the newspaper I want to work for. I think this must have been why I've been so down. It's the prospect of change - if I'm lucky/skilled enough to land one, I'll be a worker, the uni phase complete. If not, I'll go traveling. Either way, a big chunk of my life is wavering, becoming fluid and insubstantial.

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Large and loud party at our house on the weekend; for a while, the threat was of underwhelming numbers, but then they came and our house thrummed and sang through the night.

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Three English boys couchsurfed at our house all last week; every morning a hangover, every night a blast. Nothing cures depression like the filmy imposition of alcohol, the simple inability to think beyond the present. Interesting cultural interaction though - they're all from Cambridge, so I was readying my cultural cringe and inferiority complexes only to find that hey, they were articulate, they knew what was going on, but not on a level above and beyond. Reassuring. Although there were unflattering contrasts in terms of how much work a uni degree is at Melbourne versus Cambridge, which is undoubtedly true. Also three Americans, friends-of-housemate landed on us as well, and we had a beautiful western mélange, complete with accent misunderstandings galore and an unfortunate incident involving a Jewish English boy and a well-battered hunk of shark. In England, fish (of fish n chip fame) is only ever cod.