| Monday, March 27, 2006 |
| Water immersion |
A little bit of water dunking has been occuring in my life over this weekend. Not directly to me, but to those around me. Last night I went to my friend's baptism. Actually, her second baptism. After being baptised a Catholic as a baby, she has recently joined the Christian City Church (called the CCC, which I think bears an unhealthy KKK connotation) and was baptised a born again christian yesterday. She was baptised in a total body water baptism, which involved her sitting into a deep, long, rectangular metal bathtub and being pulled backwards until she was totally under the water by two of the chuch people by each arm, after she accepted that 'God sent his son Jesus to die for our sins.' Then one of the women spoke for ages (well, it felt like ages to me, but was probably only about 7 minutes or so) about what a great person my friend is and what a difference her being baptised is going to make in her life.
I must admit I got a bit emotional and shed a few tears. I blame the fact that I'd had no sleep at all Saturday night or Sunday and was still revved up from the redbull I'd consumed during my night Out on Saturday. Plus I was proud of her for getting her life back together somewhat, and was hoping that what the lady with the microphone was saying was true, that her being baptised a 'born again' will make a big change for the better in her life. My friend has severe depression, and sometimes I just can't handle it. In the past year she has sent me messages saying that she's having a bad time and she wants to die, or rings me up and tells me she wants to die, or that she's locked herself in the toilet with the telephone so she doesn't 'hurt herself' (probably one of the worst moments of my life) and that her daughter would be better off without her. I have felt so helpless as there is absolutely nothing I can do to help (she refused to go to any of the help/support groups I found for her, after she went to one and found it full of 'crazy old people') and to make her feel better and stop her crying for days on end. She's been improved recently (no more suicidal messages, at least), to the point where she's got a job again, and a lot of that I attribute to her newfound religion (even if they do teach about how bad the catholic faith is during their 'bible study' classes, and I get sick to death of telling her that Catholics are Christians too) and her church 'family'.
So, off the topic of depression and born again Christians, and on to the nice enjoyable topic of a Saturday night out 'on the town'. It was one of my work girls birthdays, and she was having a joint 21st birthday party with one of her friends in the function room of a highly popular Hobart pub. After some enjoyable pre-party drinks at one of the girls houses, we cruised on down to the party, a mere 2 and a half hours after the official starting time. At about 10 pm, three of our other work friends arrived. This was Carey and Jim (dating) and Sharnie, who have just all moved in together. These three are known to indulge in a bit of recreational drug use, 'popping a few eees' on occasion. And after the entrance Jim made (he entered the room dancing and then stood dancing whereever he was - he literally couldn't keep still) and the strutting in of Sharnie (who becomes even more enamoured with herself and convinced of her sex appeal when under the influence) within 10 seconds of them entering all those who knew them were pretty sure they were on a high. Plus Sharnie was unable to operate her mobile phone, or even keep it in her hand. Oh, and she fell on us when she stood up. After only half an hour, Sharnie departed the party. Didn't think too much about it - everyone was wandering between the function room and the actual pub. About 45 minutes later Carey comes and asks us where she is. We didn't know, so she and Jim leave the party, I guess to find Sharnie. A couple of hours later, as the party was finishing and we were leaving the function room, Jim and Carey return. Sharnie had fallen into the river. Now, this is not a nice little blue river weaving its way about the pub. Hobart is a port city, and the 'party district', where the popular pubs and clubs are, is on the Wharf front. She'd fallen off the wharf (sheer concrete wall rising from the river with no easy way out if you happened to fall off the side) into the highly polluted and not exactly shallow river. In her inebriated state, potentially a death sentence. Carey said that Sharlie had been throwing up in the river and then fallen in (ew, she fell in her vomit!). Later, John told a different story, that Sharlie had been twirling round a pole then fallen in. I don't know which one is true. Luckily, she'd been fished out by some gallent young gentlemen. Rather than going home (which is about 10 minutes fast walk from the wharf) she'd gone back to John's house which is even further away (remember John, that horrible male specimen who dumped the sweetest girl in the world then told his current shag, who also worked with us, all about their sex life together?), to 'dry out'. As they've had a bit of chemistry simmering for ages, we kind of thought that they'd finally have a bit of a shag or whatever. Although given Sharlie's state, there was a bit of contention over whether or not Carey had 'done the right thing' as her best friend in allowing her to go to John's house. This was brought up by Carey herself, who had had second thoughts about John and Sharlie alone at John's house, with Sharlie presumably naked but for a towel. My personal view was the Sharlie has been flirting outrageously with John for about two years (even when he was dating the nicest girl in the world), and if she wanted to go back to his house, how the hell was Carey (off her head as well) supposed to stop her?
Anyway, the party is over, my work girls and I move on to a nightclub. Carey and Jim head off in another direction, possibly to John's house to get Sharlie. A couple of hours later, as we're heading up the stairs of the nightclub who should come shooting down them but Sharlie (still completely off her nut). Apparently she'd dried her clothes out in front of the heater at John's house (must be a bloody good heater seeing as she'd had a full body bath in the river), put them back on and headed out again. Carey was there too, and as her speech was now incoherent maybe a little bit more pill popping had occured in the interium.
While everyone else was pretty disgusted that Sharlie had been so out of it she'd fallen in the stinky and very polluted river, dried her clothes out and put them back on and then gone back Out, I was rather impressed. What dedication to partying that displays! Although, surely the smartest idea would have been to go back to her own house (located conveniently close to the wharf, like, 15 minutes walk if you were strolling along admiring the pretty streets), have a shower and put on fresh clothes and then go back out?
Anyway, all in all, must say Saturday was a grand night Out. I didn't return home until 4 am, which is amazing because whenever I've gone Out in the past few months (oh, about 3 times!) I've been incapable of staying out so long. My work girls and I were simply amazed at how many people are Out on Saturday nights! Don't these people have to work like we do?! |
posted by Cecilia @ 3:10 pm  |
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| 1 Rantings: |
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Oh my love :) When's your next Saturday night off? I want to go out with you, since we haven't for AGES!!!!
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Oh my love :) When's your next Saturday night off? I want to go out with you, since we haven't for AGES!!!!