let me let my hair down

This song plasters a crazy smirk smile on my face, though at least 23% of it is inaudible to me.  It sort of authorises me to feel like some free agent of a cruising ship, sussing out the rest of the vehicles on the road and staring down drivers via my review mirror with provoking nods or winks. Hahaha, such a punk.

“Now baby, baby, baby don’t call me baby, babe. I said baby, baby don’t call me baby.”

Greed.

One of a series of seven lecture-turn-essay-presentations is the book that is this month’s review.  I must confess my attentiveness to this book was quickly worn by glazed eyes, the desire to fulfil productivity today (be it a monthly resolution and poorly done at that), and frustration of a lacking lucidity.

Tickle does well in lassoing her reader in her prologue titled “Being a bit of Context”.  May I warn you though that that her introductions into perceptions and character of Greed mislead the expectation of the essay.  The curiously captivating first fifteen pages of establishing intention is like dipping each of your fingers into a tasty sample of all manner of religions.  However it’s followed through with a ‘lighter’ assessment from page 17 to 46 drawing out the shapeshifting of Greed’s image as evolved/devolved mostly in visual art. This was not what I expected.

Lengthy sentences (and I mean sentences resembling small paragraphs) populated with impressive vocabulary were delightful for the first easier pages but became tiresome to commonfolk like myself.  I ‘read’ the essay, with about 25% of it falling through a nonmeaning filter of ignorance.  Only the momentum to finish reading carried my eyes over the text with the agnostic ‘hope’ that the next sentence may shed light on the previous.

The hardest part, for me, was the fact that the million references to art pieces and artists, historic events, important people, philosophers, and movies, was that I had minimal familiarity with any of them (being an unimformed Gen Y-er), meaning that that which she bounced most of her content off, were to me, walls of non-existent knowledge.  So technically, my difficulty with the book is not with the pages, it is my frustration with my history teachers who never educated me on anybody but Australian Explorers – of whom I could hardly give you sufficient regurgitation to write a children’s book.

Oh, but there were a handful of fantastical pages which I indulged in excitedly!  Moments of imagery – not the descriptions she painted of paintings, but (what I assume is) her own illustration of Greed – were beautiful.  I liked the first half of the book better than the second. She ends with the epilogue she titles “Being another Prologue”, which I actually have no comment for.

A few black and white picture pages in the middle of the “Notes” section proceding the epilogue assist with the understanding of her references to particular art pieces. I recommend familiarising yourself with the pictures before reading – or, if you’re not lazy like myself, google each as they are mentioned.  I didn’t read the 30pages of Notes (which might have significantly added to my understanding), I didn’t have the heart to try, so I didn’t.  I’ll revisit this book when I’m more mature, knowledgeable and patient.  As is, I read the book just to get my mind off stupid matters and to tick off February’s book reading resolution.  I have only two of the books of “The Seven Deadly Sins” series by The New York Public Library and Oxford University Press – the other, much more intriguing (due to it’s less frequent mention), Gluttony. But I will be much more weary come time to read that one, knowing now how depressingly superior these are in literary conventions!

I believe I can rightly conclude though, that after reading challenging books, I am then challenged to write more eloquently and hold higher standards for fluidity and variation in vocabulary!  I feel pretentiously wordy in this post but I’ll defend that it is simply the contagion of reading good pieces and (sub)consciously producing something that hopefully isn’t too far inferior from them; not to mention it being delightfully fun using words my mother would be impressed by.  This is why after not reading for 5 years, my writing plateaued, and possibly regressed. Hang on, unversity “compulsory” readings probably maintained my standard… but if I wish for my skills to evolve, I need to read much more and stretch my capacity of utilised brain percentage.  I think there is nothing more powerful than words and the letter, so motivation is easy.  I also think I should be more moved and interested in such vile ‘sins’ as Greed. 

I ate chocolate while reading this… but only two. The rest displayed are hoarded wrappers I knew might be useful for some artful expression!

don’t don’t don’t don’t

Don’t keep procrastinating.
Don’t hang on his pleasant words.
Don’t ignore the mess.
Don’t sit in daydreams.
Don’t forget everything you said you’d do.
Don’t go giving away your heart or time without carefully considering it.

Don’t.

wid the lid

H: Can you pwease put the wid on for me?
N: Sure! …

N: Hey Hudson, can you say… ‘Lizard?’
H: WIZARD!

This short exchange totally made my today. T’was the end of another kindergarten session and beautiful Hudson made my every fibre giggle. I didn’t know what to expect, I only wanted him to confirm what part of his speech I wanted to improve, and ‘lizard’ was the first ‘L’ word to come to mind – it happened so perfectly.  The fact that the incorrectly enunciated word still made sense, emphasised by his buzzing enthusiasm to mimic me, warmed my heart more than the sunshine we sat in.

To quote a hilarious excerpt from the ‘overheard’ column in Melbourne’s MX last week: “I want kids so badly my womb is throbbing”. 

I empathise completely.

“are you ok?”

I read a little of her life today and ended up with my head in my hands for a minute – not crying, just hiding.  Then I left messages on her page and then the urgency grew and I messaged her phone… no reply, so I messaged again and she called straight after.  This is when I cried.  I cried because she was lovely on the phone even though I hadn’t even thought about her for a couple of weeks, and I teared because she asked if I was alright and I said yes.  I suppose I masked it well because I dabbed at the few silent tears that escaped and commanded my voice maintain its steady.  The curious thing is that nothing’s wrong, I just felt sad, for no reason other than learning that a few of my friends were sad, and because there was some flooding relief that somebody I had foolishly thought needed me called with her nervous usual laughter and I realised then that the tables had turned and her call was exactly what I needed. 

Haha, she’ll know who she is.  Thank you.  And everytime you ask if everything’s OK, I’ll always say yes, because it’s usually always true, but you were refreshing and a relief for not holding my friendship negligence against me.

The funny thing about always being OK (honestly, I’m nearly always OK, thanks to my relationship with God and some amazing people, horrible things are capped at an easily overcome level) is that you hardly get asked if you’re OK.  I know that getting asked too much is annoying, but not getting asked very much makes you savour it every time, even if I I geniunely am OK every time.  When you’re seen as doing well there’s little mount on which to query concern, but knowing that that’s there is warming.  I’m actually OK!

This said, please don’t ask me if I’m OK next time you see me. I’ll laugh.

pleasantness

Last night was pleasant, save the chills of a chilly night and blisters having forgotten what wearing heels felt like.

Daz, Kev, the Sister and I were much entertained by the entertainer, Michael Buble, yesterevening.  I suppose I could tell you that worshipping from afar has it’s drawbacks.  Having become familiar with enjoying live music within a couple of metres of a band, yesternight’s sitting about a kilometre (ok, maybe less) from the lights, beautiful brass and suave voice meant that the lack of intimacy between the music and I resulted in only mostly a smiling response to warm music (as opposed to dancing to the disarming heat of quality sound – which we were afforded, but hardly).  Now, ‘my closest’ know that I like things hot, scalding if need be.  I can still enjoy a warm chocolate… but give it to me hot and you’ve just whisked me into a realm where the chocolate has held me at arms length and made me wait for it despite an itching desire – whereby satisfaction is given no choice but to be savoured little sip by little sip. That, is irresistible.

Hahaha, that cannot even be applied to music! So that slice of FYI was probably irrelevant.

So back to the concert, it was pleasant… and I’ve never heard such clean brass in my life!  Sure, the union of 10+ brass players supporting the velvet voice of The Buble were seamless; but the solos, ahh, now they were otherworldly!  Boldly penetrating, it had me either squealing/gasping in girlish delight or closing my eyes and letting it wash over me.  Oh, what thrills it gave! Oh what chills it sent through me!  However, what vexed me for most of the night was the sitting down. Tell me why most of the entire stadium was seated?  I wanted to dance, I wanted to move, I was limited by my consideration for those behind me. Ugh, being nice and considerate has a way of capping enjoyment.  But it was impressive, I was impressed, I just wasn’t as moved as entirely as I usually am by my favourite sounds live.  Oh and Naturally Seven were the supporting act, they were pretty tight, I got photos with 4/7… I thought that was well achieved. Heh.

So, more news of gigs!! Beloved Saskwatch are at it again with their 7″ Single Launch! 

I’ve decided that although I haven’t frequented all their gigs, I’m pretty much fanatical about them and I will do my best also to inform my world about their brilliance.  I haven’t told them yet, but if I haven’t married one of them – actually, even if I do – they’re going to be my wedding band.  Haha, another thought which occurred to me during last night’s concert, how much more fun and how much more involved I get with Saskwatch gigs – euphoria costs me no more than usually $12 entry…which is hardly an expense for the satisfaction it affords me!  Kat comes and goes crazy with me, it’s our little time together!  We just have bonding time in the car with excited anticipation before and excited infatuation after each gig.  Oh, do rock up too!

In other news, I started college today and it was real pleasant. I’ve met some lovely and friendly people. Dare I say, everybody here is equip with a warm sense about them, like we’re all friends, we just don’t know it yet – ample smiles, handfuls of nods and “heys”.  Today, t’was my pleasure to meet…now I’d name them all because I wrote them down in my diary. The only problem with that is that I can’t find my diary.  It would be horrible if I left it at college because that would mean inconveniently retrieving it!  I’m pretty sure I’ve backtracked and foretracked about 3 times each way, so I’m almost certain it’s at college! Shame!!

Righteo, now to settle into reading today’s pre-lecture reading in post-lecture timing. I’m actually very organised already (bar losing my diary) seeing as further study was solely self-initiated and I was almost overly ecstatic about it.  Albeit, the nervous thought that as soon as I let down my game, the entire course, my part-time job, church commitments, friends, family and my overall wellbeing will come crashing down in a catastrophic failure is heart wrenching alone.  The familiarity I have with this scenario is all too “every year” for me.  I’m quite determined to nip it in the bud of February, this 2011, so that December can sigh relief and achievement with me.

Time for change, time to try.

Mm, pleasant.

useless type

Today’s chills are a little bitey!  Sunshine’s indecisiveness on weather (pun) she feels like smiling or not has got me uncertain about the usefulness of my sunnies.  I have some sewing to do today, well I’ve yet to decide on hand sewing or stapling – of course sewing would be more aesthetically pleasing – but time is not on my side!  I have to change out of my pijamas, lest sleepiness recognise my outfit and impose on today’s intended productiveness.

I have to go, I’m only here to procrastinate…

All my love!

Ps: Kev’s going to teach me guitar :) There are 3, no, 4? maybe 5 guitar players I know of personally that totally rock the G, he is one of them. I’m aware that every-second-body knows how to play guitar, but I was hoping that learning from the best might rub a little off on me.

Pps: Buble concert tomorrow. Charm overdose in order.

Ppps: College starts Wednesday.

remixing cakes

I was commissioned by a friend to make a cake for his birthday party today yesterday. Foolishly, I didn’t put much thought into it until 12:30am the day it was intended for.  Thanks due to my superb sister and magnificent mother in helping me in last-minute (true to form) scrambling efforts to finish.  It was nice having “all hands on deck”, save the father, who relaxed in the lounge room.  Haha, a good united effort!  Suffice to say, it is the most impressive cake I’ve we’ve ever made!

hey ya, nice voice

Oh Blasko!  This one is one of the best anticlimatic covers I’ve ever heard! What better to stroke a rainy day with, than with the amusement of such a curiously lovely voice.  Thank you Sarah, you made eating dinner in the car a dining experience.

time poor and everything

My most valued currency has begun playing an elusive game with me, of course only when I started to appreciate it and realise how very precious it is. Time; that which all of humanity has annual equality in… I am trying to be more effective and wise with.

I want to save the world.  But I’m not the only one.  Another with similar aspirations would understand how limited one feels when being told “to focus all energy in depth in minimal activity as to have a lasting impression there” because apparently spreading oneself thin is unwise. I speak as though I oppose this claim. I do. I know it holds elements of truth.  Yet I also know that unless you spread yourself thin, you really haven’t explored your capacity.  The only way you know how much an elastic band can stretch, is by stressing it and possibly breaking it.  Now there is little and much sense in my saying this. I believe it is vital to know yourself. Knowing what you can and cannot handle can be life changing, but the only way you have ever discovered what you could not handle in the past was by failing to handle it, yes?  However, what you could have handled at the age of 9, 13 and 17 are starkly different to what you can handle now.  Therefore, go ahead to push yourself to a new level because there is a huge chance you’re much more capable of handling “life” now than you were way back when!

Haha, this is probably my irrationally ambitious wide-eyed-naivity speaking. Yes, yes timing varies with scenarios and is a determining factor… and somethings require the “easing into” approach, and I’m aware of this.  Additionally, what I’ve just said is probably too top heavy, and is not the wisest of my unwise suggestions.  I just don’t know! I suppose this strike to caution has risen from my distaste of bored twenty-something year olds spending every fourth hour shopping, every third hour gaming, every second hour facebooking and every hour complaining/wishful thinking. Yeah.  You know what? You’d be a lot less envious of the people you stalk on facebook if you left your lazy complacency and tried to live a little.

Here’s a start – a facebook link that might be worth investigating:
 http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=148933925130686#!/group.php?gid=148933925130686

You can spend all your time wondering if it’s the right thing to do in the confines of your imagination, or you could try it and realise it was/wasn’t (and what? Risk letting people down? You do that enough as it is, perhaps the pressure of keeping that to a minimum might make you think outside yourself).  Or if that’s too confronting, try this: http://asci.org.au/demo/?page_id=86. Please, just do something. Links courtesy of a golden girl.

In the mean time, on my pedestal high-horse, I want to assure you that I speak to the mirror also.  I’ve been too self-absorbed lately and I’m trying to do little things that channel my time resources into better places and weigh heavier on the scales of purpose and meaning… like no more than 4 hours of television weekly and likewise for facebook (I was previously consumed by both – and just as unsatisfied by them)

Gee, email that friend you had meant to catch up with and never did, go through your phonebook and smile at that contact you used to love the company of but forgot about recently and give them a warm little tug. Just go and make somebody feel like they were worth every heartache they may have caused because somewhere in the stink of life – they stimulated smiles, roars of laughter and/or sighs of understanding.

I’m so ashamed of all the friends I’ve forgotten.  So I go and make new ones to make myself feel better…

Tomorrow would mark my first three weeks of working as a teacher, and first two actually teaching. It’s riveting and tiring. I didn’t take much out of four years of study – well that’s a stupid thing to say, isn’t it? I mean, I learn plenty of head-knowledge, even the portions that I can remember are invaluable…but actually working in the job and being the primary carer for the 2-3 hours that each session goes for really jogs one’s mental capacity.  Administrative work has been nightmarish, planning has been slow because I have no template, much of the things I do take me double the time I expect because I have to create a template and only hope that my creativity structures the most efficient template – so hopefully next year’s enrolment and year-commencing paperwork will take a quarter of the time it’s taking me now, because being new, uncertain and cautious annoys me.  I’m uncomfortable with being afraid of most things I do – I’m eager to move past this current apprehensiveness – though I love my job.

Anyway, I need to mow through this all over the weekend because next Wednesday begins college and apparently there is plenty of paper to devote myself to there, too!  So I must be on top of things – which means the weekend will involve me chaining myself to the desk and sewing pockets on things and brain-storming ideas for being the best kindergarten teacher in my household (…when I’m more ambitious, I’ll say “in my neighbourhood”, and then “in the world”).

I’ve been hearing more about this big company and it’s corruption and that.  I honestly think that if you wanted to, you could fault every darned organisation just for being run by humans. It is our nature to be horrible, that is why the “amazing” person is so revered, rare and craved. Everybody wants to make a profit – that’s why we’re all so poor.  Anyway, ask no questions, hear no lies. I’m petrified of challenging everything because right now I couldn’t handle knowing how fake everything is and the lack of geniunity in every organisation that paves the ordinary path of middle class me.  Haha, think about it – or don’t.  Everything from our music, our cameras, the cars we drive, the places we eat, the things we watch, the coffees we drink, the holidays we yearn for – somehow they’re all hemmed in by the guilty stand of somebody’s greed. Hah, it’s a horrible thought – but they make life convenient and we enjoy life because of them, some of the time. Life is so unreal.

I am nothing without the strength of my God. 

Haha,
I’m trying to be something with Him… it’s a slow progression

It’s hard being selfish.

It’s hard being selfless.

It’s just hard all the time.

Regardless, what I love about hard things is that boredom cannot touch me… it hasn’t in a very long time.

thank you, anonymous

I decided retreiving the mail would be a good idea on a beautiful day, only to open the front door, look down and sigh oh no, please don’t…

Hahaha, somebody thinks I need ‘a commonsense guide’.  Thank you.  Thank you.  Oh, and thank you for remaining anonymous. Honestly, I’m horrible with accepting nice things like these if I don’t know what it means…

It’s very sweet of you and you just made a good day even better!

first love

I’ve been preparing for today over the weekend. I told myself to be careful with today because it is just a flippant day with more irrational/ridiculous thoughts than usual.  Happy Valentines Day!  I couldn’t have woken up in a warmer embrace – dear God.  Sun’s come out to dance along the paths of lovers and to sigh over her own loneliness (her fierce passion burns anyone remotely intimate with her).  Today I spent an incredible two hours with my first love, it was more nutritional than today’s Sultana Bran and I craved it more, so breakfast came at 12 noon.  I picked up the guitar for the first time in years yesterday, and thought I might try to serenade Him this morning with a handful of songs requiring only the same three chords (because I only know five chords presently, and I couldn’t even identify them for you).  Haha, I’m not very good with the whole serenading thing so at about halftime, the order was reversed and I found myself much adoring His love over me.   It’s a beautiful thing to start one’s day with the dearest thing to your heart – it has a momentous effect on the attitude you have, which permeates everything really.  Being in love seems to arm its infected with an extra coat of resilience, making them/me less susceptible to the little annoying things and more sensitive to the beautiful things in life. Ahh, love is a beautiful thing. And it’s mine. All mine.

Here’s a shout out to all the men in my life who have contributed to this “under construction” site of mine, it being very hazardous and somewhat unpredictable.  Thank you for loving me. Thank you for accepting me, though I know I annoyed you. Thank you for every compliment you’ve dealt me, even the ones I threw away or ignored. Thank you for making me feel beautiful. Thank you for telling me I was beautiful (especially those times when I swear you could see that I was not but you knew that I needed to hear it).  Thank you for patience – my ugly mannerisms can be ruthlessly time consuming.  Thank you for generosity – when I just wanted to be spoilt and you spoilt me.  Thank you for strength, your words have encouraged me.  Thank you for smiling, your smiles have been a regular staple of my daily diet.  Thank you for listening, when I had everything to say and whether it was my place to say it or not. Thank you for forgiving my stupid, stupid, selfish acts.  Thank you for being brave – especially when it came to honesty.  Thank you, thank you, thank you. I’m surrounded by so many amazing men (and women – but today being Valentines Day beckons I give the men in my life extra mention) and I wouldn’t have travelled so far without you.  It’s been an honour and a real privilege making it this far in life with you.

Happy Day! Love life and the people you share it with!

the daughter tries ‘responsibility’

It was the early hours of morn
When I so chanced to sleep
The night crept slyly by the clock and
Tensed me by evening’s degree
I’d spent a hypnotic four hours plus
Laying out my creativity
Alas, the tasks I’d written “do”
Still stared unticked at me.

It being thirty after noon
The house still sprawled my mess
The parents were scheduled return, midnight
I’m pitifully far from rest
So without detouring further ado
I’ll grudginly play “domestic”
And smile upon outside’s shine
Don’t leave, I’ll be back for you.

the face that doesn’t matter

Look at me!

Why are you looking at me?

Please don’t look at me.

I need you to see me.

I want to say all of these at the same time all the time. Lately has been the battle of fighting insecurity. Lately? Correction, my whole life has been this battle.  It’s funny though, it’s not the real battle, it’s the real small battle and the one intended to distract me from the more governing one.  So I’ve been trying to leave the house with much less effort than usual, not because I tend to look tacky, but because I want to train myself to learn how to be OK with not being particularly pretty.  Besides, if I’d like to redefine beauty in accordance with the quality of the heart, I need to spend more time looking at everyone else and less time in front of the mirror.  It really has nothing to do with how I look so I’ve got to stop thinking it does.  Although we live in such shallow culture, good-looking people are nothing new, we only crave big hearts  – big enough to swallow us whole, blemish and all.  We don’t really care about good looks.  We like them because we’ve been conditioned to classing people by their exteriors, but in actual fact, we really only want the freedom to be able to be the biggest dorks possible, have people laugh at our worst jokes and tell us how cool we are for being daggy.  Trying to look good enough is exhausting.  Trying to be good enough is worse.

Abba, I need you now.

chef sister

The junior usually finds ample opportunity to joke over me, this sms had me chuckling everytime I remembered it.

A: I made dumping!

N: Hahahaha, that’s gross.
A: Dumplings idiot.