i'm paper thin

georgia "georgie" hill | 20 | third year bio-med (pre-med) student at melbourne uni

[tony-demarco1]

@hillgeorgia​

Standing right outside the door to Georgia’s dorm, Tony reached in his pocket and grabbed his cell phone to text his friend.

Tony [20:16] Stop studying nerd Tony ]20:16] I’m coming over Tony ]20:17] We’re going out Right after he sent the last text, he waited for a few minutes giving her ample time to check her messages.  Though he was sure she most likely had her cell phone on silent to focus on her academia.  Finally, he gave a couple of knocks on her door before he waltzed right in. No doubt, he would find the woman in her favorite position…studying at her desk.  Scanning the dorm, he smiled when he saw her.  Running up to her, he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her along with her chair having zero respect for personal boundaries.  “C’mon, you need a break.  I have not seen you in two weeks so I know you have been studying too much.”  He said as he lowered her back to the ground.  “And I am not taking no for an answer.”  Of course if she was adamant, he would.  But he was hoping she be inclined to spend some time with him and enjoy a night out.  “I was thinking first food at a local diner and maybe a few drinks?  What do you say?  Relieve my boredom?”  He asked with his lips pouted.

[hillgeorgia-blog]

She never checked her phone. All phone calls on vibrate, all text messages silent. There wasn’t a point, y’know? It was just another distraction. And Georgia couldn’t remember the last time someone had called, anyway--

But someone was knocking on her bedroom door, now. Ash, probably, with a question. Before she could drop her pen, and address her, the door was opening, and someone was hugging her from behind. Georgia shouted in surprise, momentarily shaking through the embrace. She could track the dents the chair had made on the carpet. Her heart was pounding in her ears. “Tony,” she took a breath and found her feet back on the ground. “What are you doing here? You scared the shit out of me.” He was pouting. Georgia spun around in her desk chair to give him a look. 

“’Studying too much’ is not enough! Don’t you want me to get into med school?” But she was already closing her laptop, and putting a pen inside a textbook to mark the page she was on. It hadn’t felt like two weeks. She glanced at her phone to check the time. 8pm, without dinner. Hadn’t even realised the time. Maybe she did need a break. Finally opening up his messages, she furrowed her eyebrows. “Stop studying, nerd.” Georgia rolled her eyes and moved to grab a cardigan from her closet. “Just for that comment, and for the fact that you’re only here because you’re bored, we’re going to Maccas.” She patted Tony on the chest. Hand on the doorknob, she smiled. “And you’re paying.” 

[frender-archive]

in this gay and age,

[dailydeutch]

[pippareyes]

@hillgeorgia

It was a few minutes past midday, when the sun was right above her head, and Pippa left the restaurant she had lunch in order to meet Georgia after that. Despite if her friends were unemployed or going the routine of work, the weekends always seemed the best time to keep in touch and leave her house to meet them. With a brief text for Georgia to meet her close to the Museum Victoria, since it seemed Pippa could never truly leave Fitzroy, she was there, waiting with her phone on her hand until she finally spotted a familiar figure. “Know that I have the entire day to spend with you, use it wisely, enjoy my company,” she teased with a smile on her lips as she reached close to kiss the woman’s cheek.

[hillgeorgia-blog]

Her mother constantly bothered her to keep in touch with friends.

Doctors needed to be people-persons-- skills that couldn’t be learned out of a textbook, skills Georgia had almost seamlessly forgotten after being out of the customer service gig for half a decade. She didn’t have many close friends -- had her roommates, sure, and people like Pippa: one night stands that stayed in touch (’cause Georgia could never really let go) (the city could be lonely sometimes) (and what was that joke about lesbians and U-Haul?). 

Pippa was leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. Georgia was thumbing a spot near her spine. “It’s good to see you,” she said, with a matching smile. “I can’t remember the last time I spent an entire day with anybody, so you should count yourself damn lucky.” Adjusting the tote bag strap on her shoulder, Georgia pulled back from the embrace. “How’re you doing? What’s the plan for today? The Museum? You really know me too well.”

[diego-olmedillo]

Diego always liked to get early for a shift, it meant he could take a little to get used to seeing how the ED was working, how the environment was and get familiar with some of the cases that were still there, but today he got particularly early, and he saw one of his favorite pre-med student he had met seating in a bench reading a book and enjoying a coffee, since the first day they met he immediately saw the potential on her, even if so far she wasn’t really a med student yet, he would do anything in his power to help her get there.

He bought a coffee himself and walked to her, to sat next to her and see how things were going “Does that frown mean there is an exam coming soon ?” He asked as he took a seat next to her.  

@hillgeorgia

[hillgeorgia-blog]

They’d just opened up a new café on the ground level of the VCC. Super 8, with burgers named after comic book heroes, and baristas that remembered your name. It was a neat little district-- Royal Parade and Grattan Street. Had the Uni and the Royal Melbourne Hospital and the Peter Mac Cancer Centre all on one intersection. Always cop cars parked on the sidewalk, and sirens closing off in the distance. There was still another week before semester one classes started up again, but she liked the study space. Liked to see the people-- so different in Melbourne compared to back home. Liked to make up stories, sometimes, when her mind wandered away from her textbook. 

Georgia had her coffee (a regular mocha) planted between her legs, book in hand. Didn’t even realise when someone sat down beside her-- only caught on when he started talking. “Dr. Olmedillo!” Textbook in lap now, coffee in hand. “About to start your shift, huh?” Georgia scratched the bridge of her nose. “If you can call September ‘soon’. Class doesn’t start till next week.” She explained past a sip of her coffee. “This is all prep for the GAMSAT. Got any quick advice before you’ve gotta head out to work?”

[kevoneal-deactivated20180317]

Lesson Number 1

@hillgeorgia

The blonde crossed his arms and sighed as he sat in the study room of the library. It was summer break at the University but that didn’t mean work stopped for him. In addition to working his full time job, he was also doing research for his PhD program (one he was considering dropping but still weighing his options) and he had some TA stuff to do. One of his TA duties was to tutor some students in the science department. It seemed like the program wanted him to do more tutoring than actual research which was truly starting to turn annoy him more than anything. 

While he was finishing a report for work in his laptop, he heard the door to the study room open, figuring it was the student he was suppose to help out. “Just give me a moment but you can take a seat.” he told her as he continued to type away. After another minute, he finished the report and sent it over to his boss for review. Finally looking up at the student, he instantly recognized her. “I can finally put a name to a face.” he said, stretching his hand across the table towards her indicating he wanted to shake it. “Kevin O’Neal. Looks like the department partnered us up for your sessions. Biology major right? What are we working on?”

[hillgeorgia-blog]

She didn’t think she needed tutoring.

Georgia studied just fine. Had always studied alone -- was so good now that she could read, and listen to music, and fold laundry all at the same time. All without breaking concentration, all the while feeling like her back was breaking-- her backpack heavy with all the materials she needed. It wasn’t enough just to bring her laptop, not at Melbourne Uni, not in this course. If Georgia could vouch for anything, it was this: she was good. But, so was he-- the teacher’s assistant sitting down at the spot they’d picked in the study room over email. Libraries weren’t quiet, not with the way he was typing, and leaning into his MacBook. 

He talked without looking, and Georgia took a seat. She’d seen him around before-- knew he was a PhD student. Knew how the hierarchy worked. Maybe these tutoring sessions might not (might actually) help her, but she knew they’d be helping him with his own work. It was mandatory. 

When he finally stopped, and looked up, Georgia tried to smile. She shook his hand instead. “Nice to meet you, Kevin.” She said, easing into her chair. “Georgia Hill.” Just to reiterate. “At the moment I’m focusing on preparations for my final year research assignment. Studying for the GAMSAT, too, with whatever time I get in between.” Georgia folded her arms across the table. “Bachelor of Biomedicine, majoring in Neuroscience, actually.” She politely corrected, fishing her books out of her bag and piling them onto the tabletop. “Is that okay? D’you think you’ll be cool to help me out?” 

[dailydeutch]

[leahtreadwell-blog]

@hillgeorgia

They didn’t endorse her, or anything, but they let her set up every week. That was enough. No chalkboard advertisements on the sidewalk outside, no flyers about the readings every Tuesday and Friday – but they gave her a booth, in the back corner, and they let her put up a sign and a tip plate, and they never ever asked to share her profits. 

There weren’t a lot of profits.

Leah’s twice-weekly sit-in at the Station Hotel was more about practice than money, anyway. She slid into the cushion and tugged the sign out of her tote bag, letters smudged and warped where the paper had bent. She thumbed the crease to make it stand up straighter: Readings for $5 or a Beer in blue block letters you could see even in the dim dark of the bar. It was the kind of deal that attracted all sorts of people – but mostly the desperate kind, drunk and doubtful, shuffling over to sit across her and close their eyes. More than one person had fallen asleep, this month, while she pored over tarot results. That’s what drinking does to you: their minds were open, but their bodies were slow, slow, slow.

Tonight, it was a group of friends. 10:30 at night and Leah had been here, had learned to swallow irony so long as it gave her something in return; no one can screw you if you’re getting paid, even if the payment’s just pints they pass over. This wasn’t anything new. Three women with glistening lip gloss were sipping from straws, talking – couldn’t hear, couldn’t hear over the music – to a fourth with her eyebrows dark. Leah leaned against the booth to square her shoulders. When the girl sat down, she followed with her eyes. “You drew the short straw, huh?” she said, fading out the friends behind her. “Want me to tell your future?”

[hillgeorgia-blog]

Friday nights didn’t mean shit to med students-- They didn’t mean shit for pre-med students, either, where 3am only meant sore palms and poor penmanship; a soft drink stocked fridge to keep her from creasing her textbooks whenever she fell asleep at her desk. Dog-marked pages and multi-coloured sticky notes. It had her fraying away at the coaster, now, remembering-- had her playing with the straw between her teeth. Still soft drink (Lemonade), with a twist, and a wooden countertop (Vodka Lemonade). A train and a tram ride away from home. 

She didn’t want to be here. 

Classes started on Monday. Georgia passed on March-- wanted more time to study, wanted more time to breathe around what it meant for her. What it’d mean if she succeeded (or failed). September wasn’t far away, and finishing her bio-med degree with flying colours still mattered. She had to balance them both: had two first priorities. Time shared at its centre-- and all this meant was time wasted. 

She didn’t want to be here. Her roommates were giggling past their shoulders over a bad idea, with elbows in her side. Voices, slurred and inebriated, layered over the music: c’mon, G because it’ll be fun and so funny and Kaye was scooping up coins off the bar top, and dropping them off in Georgia’s hand. “It’s bullshit!” A whine, stirring her straw through a tumbler of ice. “You’re gonna have to give me more money than this-- it’s a con, you assholes.” But they were pushing her out of her seat, and pushing notes into her pockets, and Georgia was trying to whisper-shout so the psychic (was she a psychic?) wouldn’t hear it. Ashley ordered a beer from the bartender. Georgia was scratching at the spot between her eyebrows. “And you guys study science.” With fingers curled around a couple of bucks and a beer bottle, Georgia moved to sit down at the booth.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” she pushed her payment across the table. A glance back at her roommates: a palm easily read, with their hands over their mouths -- laughter dulling out any sound of music. Georgia bent back against the booth and looked. Blue and black and blonde, and Georgia had to tip the coins out onto the table. Always had to keep her hands moving. “Sure,” through a sigh. “This’ll be an easy one for you, I bet.” She wasn’t that complex, or interesting. Cynicism wasn’t hard to read. “Do you know my name?” Is that how this worked? Her friends, like frat boys, yelling out G. Chanting. And Georgia placed a few coins on the dinner plate marked with Tips, and prayed that the psychic knew how to make people-- how to make her-- disappear.

[khanos-deactivated20170219]

life hack: do ur readings and go to class

[melbournecityrp]

“If I move fast, I move fast. I won’t finish last. You know I give in, you know I’d give in.”

NAME: Georgia Hill

AGE: Twenty-one years

BIRTHDAY: January 16th, 1996

GENDER: Female

OCCUPATION: Student

NEIGHBORHOOD: Carlton

HAS LIVED IN MELBOURNE FOR: Grew up in country Victoria, but has lived in the city for the last five years.

PLAYER: Amanda

[tw: slurs]

She always smelled like cooking oil. Deep-fried batter, y’know? It stuck to her scalp, her skin— clothes spinning on a permanent washing cycle. They didn’t wear aprons, or uniforms. Family business didn’t need that—didn’t hand out nametags (didn’t need them, with their faces all the same), or money in the (piggy) bank come end of pay week. Payment came in ten-hour shift work, and free Dim Sims hidden around the corner from customers.

Small town country Victoria, and everyone knew the Hill’s that worked at, and lived above, the Hooked fish and chip shop. The ten-hour shifts split fair between the three of them – her and her sisters – on the school holidays, and all the weekends in between. Georgia counted those days lucky, with Jessica or Brianna (Jess older, Bri younger) manning the cash register and filling up the fry vats —the days she got to do laundry without having to add anything to the load.

The Hill’s that lived by Sovereign Hill. It was catchy: hooked the locals in every sunny Sunday, reeled the tourists in when they couldn’t pan properly for gold. Potato cakes were close enough, though, right?

The city was never close enough. Ballarat meant public school, and small buildings, and friendship groups that turned and turned like the family washing machine. It was dry. And Georgia would’ve settled for nothing bigger, or better – but if you were smart, you didn’t have to be interesting. It gave her a right to be boring. She never wanted to be anybody else: always had one set goal. Georgia had no real reason for wanting to become a doctor. Six years old, maybe, and always pulling out Operation! Ten years old, probably, and playing Theme Hospital on a box-monitored computer. There was never a shift: never princess to Olympian to astronaut. Always a doctor. While that felt like a normal desire for a child, it wasn’t considered as such in a family of fast food business owners.

Her parents came around. Halfway through high school, and they took a trip into Melbourne for the VCE Career Expo. Georgia with brochures tucked under her arms, and wandering fingers, before she decided on the highest-ranking medical school in Australia. Public school wasn’t going to cut it. She’d seen what college looked like on television, what it looked like in America, and Melbourne Girl’s Grammar was around the corner from Melbourne University. It was in the city, and it was easy. It made everything so much easier. An interview and entry exam, and they got the tuition mostly paid for. Georgia had a uniform now. Less laundry cycles—an entirely new washing machine, shared with a wider family.

There’d always been stereotypes (slurs) about all girls’ schools. She’d heard them before, contributed to them, even—bitches, sluts, lesbians. Educated enough for a scholarship, but ignorance seemed to stick in small towns. Found herself searching through the courtyard for the gay couple that’d always sit hand-in-hand, hand-on-hip, on a bench by the library. At first, she looked out of curiosity—it was something foreign, much like she was. Small fish, big pond. Didn’t know she even felt small, until she realised why—and why she’d always look, or try to find them. College is all about exploration and discovery, right? And it made it easy, being surrounded by so many girls—so many different curves and edges, so much beauty, to finally understand. Had Georgia plucking the Operation! heart out with a pair of tweezers, and examining. A softer cycle: her new setting.

Boarding school paid off: undergrad at Melbourne Uni (a Bachelor of Bio-Medicine) and an apartment with four flatmates at the UniLodge down the road. A community Laundromat, no Hills— only big buildings, and trees that bowed. With her last year of pre-med, Georgia is juggling coursework and studying for the GAMSAT, in hopes of being accepted into the university’s med program after graduation. No more fish and chips on school holidays – only ten-hour study shifts, and flake that’s bought each and every time she takes the tram down to St. Kilda beach. A new normal – her own independent setting.

It’s like she’s nothing more than a grade on a piece of paper. Getting the job done was always expected. Quiet enough to stay hidden in school—validation given by the praise of her teachers, and the report card she’d hang on the shop’s deep freezer. Pick one trait, and it’s always smart. Ironically, it never went beyond that – wasn’t bright enough to identify anything else. Chalk it up to self-esteem, or lack of validation in other areas (beauty, humour, personality). All of her eggs are in the smarts basket, and without it, her sense of self is blurred.

[devon-flores-blog]

“…And that’s how I accidentally shaved my arm hair”, Devon laughed as the customer walked away with their order. They walked outside of the truck to check on the containers filled with agua fresca, serving themselves a glass of jamaica, “honestly, when is this awful heat going away?”

[hillgeorgia-blog]

She couldn’t track all the train delays-- could never catch the right tram, or squeeze inside past the weekend crowds. Not in the heat. Not in this heat, with her cardigan tied around her waist, and her hair gathered at the nape of her neck. No sweaty palms, not with Georgia-- it was all upper lip, all caught in her throat. Dry mouth, with cracks in the corners. Past dinnertime and the sun was still smudging the horizon, and Georgia was thirsty, and exhausted, and the weight of her MacBook and notebook and textbook had her dragging her feet down the pavement. 

She’d never been one to drink alone (study alone, sure) (movie alone? Even better) but the food truck was there-- and they were stocking Hibiscus Tea. Never had shit that fancy down in Ballarat, where beer was the only thing kept on tap. Alcoholic slushies were a rarity. Vodka and Coke was about as far as Georgia would take it. Tea was a pre-sleep ritual, and there were countless health and well-being benefits to flowers. And she needed to get the taste of sweat out of her mouth. 

“It’s even worse when it’s like this,” Georgia was educated in small-talk (small-town small-talk). “It’s what? 34 degrees today? And tomorrow it’s gonna drop back down to 18.” She said, plastic cup in hand. (Melbourne weather could always fill a room.) “It makes laundry day a diverse experience.” Popping her tote bag down by her feet, Georgia turned to blink at the stranger. “There’s alcohol in this, right? D’you need to card me?”

[jadeamelia]

I’ve been looking for your dick under this microscope.

[dailydeutch]