bipolar polar bears and pastry.

So they tell me everyone is contradictions. We're all just made up of internal giant neenish tarts that alternate victorious shades. 

Well at five pm on yet another overcast day, that fact and the neenish tart I just ate have me thinking.

Contradictions, indeed. 

How can one individual be so so split in half?Truly. I am a bipolar polar bear. The DSMV might not classify me as that since what this split least effects is my mood and doesn't alter functioning and blah blah blah, but the rest of me... is jeckyll and hyde. 

Right now, I'm sprawled on my stomach unable to move. Barely raising the enthusiasm to type. So very very lazy. Other times , ridiculous energy pulses through me for no reason whatsoever. I love people. I LOVE people, I love their noses, their  eyes, the way they breathe differently to each other, the way you can tell who's who and what's what, the quirks , the commonground, all of it. But i HATE people. I hate them. I hate them en masse. Grouped and laughing at moronic things. Ripcurl wearing clones of each other.Doing NOTHING about somethings, despite their collective power. RARRR rage. I overeat. I eat trash. I live for chocolate. But I eat like a hippy, seeds and apples and brown rice stews and am nauseated at just the sight of mcdonalds.I'm patient and I can't wait.I dress up. I dress down. I work hard. I do only enough to scrape by. So. Many. Things. In one. Package. 

It baffles me to think this is going on in everyone.

It's like that suicide cat thing. Except if the side of the person rearing it's head at any given time had been a different one, the future of the whole universe may have veered off onto a different path. So many possibilities.

Make sense outside my head? Maybe not. Because right now the eerily-able-to-concentrate-mental-efforts-for-hours part of me is elsewhere, and I'm struggling with sentences . That's not an exaggeration . I think perhaps a better creative outlet would be drawing. Right now. 

That's the one thing consistent within all polar bear tart pieces. The fact that without some form of creating, or taking in creations , some form of imaginary ANYTHING, it all falls apart. Disolves. Many pieces become no pieces. It's nearly happened a few times and I swear to god those things are what saved me. It's what'll save us all.

End vague, pensive and confused transmission.

nb. the above quote and the fact that i function so much better surrounded by ..THINGS, certain things,has me motivated to clean up my work space. change my corkboard. As my essay has decided to state, places shape people. It's funny, I've tried to force myself to be surrounded by certain things, or to ... be a certain way, and it doesn't work. You end up lost and unmotivated. No time for that. Much better to float amongst things and thoughts that are really you. It  is. 

the post that wasn't

so i've been up for ages, thankyou to a very dodgy feeling on the insides, and conceded at about five am that making coffee, munching on toast and just getting on with the day would be a good approach. funny how the mind works. the second i wasn't trying to go back to sleep, but rather, doing the opposite, my eyes began to close . 

so if it's all the same to you, the blog entry that was going to precede heaps of homework and then an interview, all by ten am, has now become a teeny tiny paragraph written from under covers just prior to passing out for at least another hour. 

god bless slumber. really. it's fantastic

what's in a name?

Also, it's a liiiiiiiiiiittle amusing that the athlete at the center of the whole 'is she a he?' debarcle has a name featuring the word 'semen'.

back in black. minus the black part.

So, I really am about to study, for real. It's now four thirty. And I don't know where my ridiculous nerdy energy is right now ? Actually, I do. It's still wildly present but just being channelled in questionable ways. AKA looking up star wars trivia and reading friend's blog and various other interesting yet pointless online entities . Prime example being this sucker. 

ANYWAY.  So yes. have settled down to study after a lovely voyage here with lovely boyfriend, and all is right with the world. Well, clearly it's not, I mean... watch the news for three minutes, or listen to a certain tall chauvanistic Serbian talk for less than that, or even just note the mounds of assignments that are growing beside me, and this fact is clear BUT  anything is manageable when your insides are chilled out and warm,which is possible despite it sounding contradictory. 

Still, I suspect I'll post a fair amount today. And tomorrow. And probably this week. Whether work has gotten more boring or this has gotten more amusing I don't know. Six of one, half a dozen of the other.

Oh. What the dickens? I have a housemate home twenty four hours early. Lucky I replaced her food this morning.. 

serious contemplations on chocolate biscuits and hot pink lipstick

so as I lie here on my stomach crunching away on delectable biscuits from my delectable boyfriend, i was debating whether or not to wait for after the caffeine dose of the arvo to get down to the pointy end of the assessments for the week, but instead opted for perusing facebook photo albums and, over the top of my laptop, the grey don't-come-outside-or-exercise-at-all,-instead-read-and-savour-the-chill-that-will-soon-morph-into-blistering-heat clouds and whooshy winds. Anyhow, while rifling through the shots of friends, places, various alcoholic beverages consumed and the embarassing effects of them, i came across a handful of a dear male chum posing in the middle of a cosy melbourne alleyway and proudly pouting pink lipsticked lips. Love it. Life's too short to live by other people's rules all the time. 

 Which somehow reminded me of a conversation I had a few days ago with a someone about how with every year comes more things to take care of , do correctly, concentrate on and be careful about. True, but with that comes more and more chances to do your own thing. 

I accept that I'll have to pay mortgages and keep track of children perhaps at some point, plan out nutritious meals and manage my time according to a Serious Grown Up Job and to be honest, I can't wait. That tickles the neurotic organised me pink. It does. but SO does not giving a frick. Should my friend prance around in hot pink lipstick? Of course. Should I have chocolate biscuits for lunch, skip the bikeride I was invited on this time, and leave homework til the last minute today? for sure. Should I opt for treasuring time with a boy I love , doing what we please, instead of sorely needed vacuuming? Yes yes and yes. Such simple decisions. Happy priorities.It all balances out in the end.  People. Must. Relax. Who made all these rules? If I do what I'm meant to seventy percent of the time... I think I'll get by. Life's little. It really is. Cue that annoying "Don't worry, be happy" singing fish here.

This isn't what this post was going to be about. And the distracting patterns of shadow on the floor and unopened library book are pulling focus away from it anyway so I might as well go for now. But the point is... I'm glad it's saturday, I'm glad for biscuit feasts, I'm glad for afternoons and glad for making the wrong decisions , because so often they're actually right, as long as the right ones are made often enough.

AND. I actually have a lot to say. About real things. But now I think I have to read some of that book before I explode....

let's talk about sex, baby. let's talk about you and me, let's talk about all the good things and the bad things...and so forth.

Oh Salt N Pepa , how brilliant you were, on occasion. I remember floating along to that 'mighty good man' song most days during year ten and still remember all the lyrics. But the cause for this title, and the pausing of the post below / schizophrenically branching into something else already, is this morning's organisation and the fact that I've already done the class readings. With a large amount of focus, I might add :D including margin notes. 

But admittedly that's not just because of the perfect coffee that kicked off my day, or the determination to make it not dissolve into strangeness the way yesterday did or a fear of my quite-erratic tutor, it's simply because it was interesting. And because the issue of rape in the law is one I never fully understood. Turns out that's because nobody does. It's all so damn sketchy.

Hugely disturbing, is the whole burden of proof thing. But everybody knows that. Daytime flick after daytime flick has professed it. It's common knowledge that most rape trials end up with no guilty charge, simply because it's hard to prove, because it's her word against his, or because the woman backs down due to discomfort and what not. What I didn't quite register is it's also partly due to the amount of possible defences the man has. For example, instead of it being an issue of 'reasonably believed he had consent', quite often it's 'unreasonably believed he had consent'...which is ridiculous. That's like saying... like saying... 'he wasn't allowed to speed, all the signs said no speeding, but he thought he was, thus it's not a crime'  . What a lame-ass defence. And massively supporting the whole phallocentric idea of it being all about what he believed etc etc etc. 

Also disturbing though is the 'reasonable belief' part, though. Turns out 'reasonable belief' comes about if:      <- and this is highly difficult without brackets, by the by. but everytime I hit paste now , japanese characters flood the page. God knows why? But on with the show..

i) they're married , ...um.. what? once married the woman owes her husband / owner sex whenever he pleases ? odd. Suggestive of property much? 

ii) they've slept together in the past., .... apparently this generally results in acquittal. Since when is sleeping with someone allowing them to do what they want to you for the rest of both your lives? If anything, sometimes sleeping with people makes you less likely to ever repeat the action :I .. ugh. gross.

iii) there's no evidence that she scratched or kicked him / nobody heard screams, ...again what? Does her saying no not count? Does the fact that perhaps she was too paralysed with fear to do anything, feature no where? But above all, since WHEN was sex just a permission thing. I mean.. that the woman goes 'ok. cool. sleep with me/take me/do what you will, you have my permission'. Where is the whole two people mutually interested / loving / involved / clearly up for it thing. What kind of guy sleeps with someone who is 'behaving like a zombie, as usual' <- which was one man's defence as to why he raped his wife . If she's usually a zombie... does that not spark a few questions, Son ? I ..argh. I can't explain. It's not coming out right. But the whole 'she didn't stop me' thing seems so stupid because it's not meant to be about that. At all. And the law is just feeding that attitude in. But I spose, if you're not relying on audible screams and fingernail scrapings, what are you meant to use as 'proof' ? And where do you draw the line, in terms of what was wanted and wasn't? Is it rape then if the girl is horrified and doesn't want it to happen but is too scared to speak up so admittedly accepts out of fear of negative consequences??? 

Sigh. I guess I was raised in a happy little Disneyesque world where no 'yes' or 'no' was needed because it was clear your girlfriend WANTED to sleep with you. And I guess I'm lucky to be in a relationship where not only am I heard and nothing is 'expected' but I WANT to sleep with my boyfriend and it isn't just a price you have to pay, as the readings imply most women feel majority of the time. And where said action involves actual happiness, intimacy and the rest. 

I ... oh. out of time again. How many half posts are there in here now? too many. 

How much coffee thus far? not enough.

How many things left to ramble about? a million. 

Oh my.

ps

recently i've had a constant fascination with the fact that we can be nostalgic for places we've never been, times we never saw, people who don't exist. Humans are weird, man. Humans are weird.

I'd explain this but the inconvenient brain fog is now officially eating me alive. Housemate sick as dog in next room so the place is dead quiet, and I'm lying on my floor with zero guilt. There should be guilt, i should be doing something, but I'm not THAT behind, so the motivation just isn't there. I've never been lazier than this semester. How did i live so long without the desire to just vegetate on the carpet googling strange things like lamps made of cassettes, japanese artists , landlocked navies and pens that write underwater? I honestly couldn't sit still. Now ... I honestly couldn't move if i tried. Age? maybe. Grey skies? possibly. All i know is despite it's current dirty state, this floor is heaven. For the third consecutive day. 

so, here we are again. 

it's one thirty pm and i should be doing work but my brain is refusing for an unknown reason. it's been fed triple what a regular person needs, it's had coffee, it's had sleep, it's just mysteriously on strike. I'll give it til three and then begins the whipping.

yes, i'm typing out numbers. as several days ago i 'helped' macbook by cleaning it... and all the keys got schizophrenia and multiple personalities and whatever else their problems. still debating whether to resign to a life of copying and pasting numbers and exclamation marks and brackets or shell out the cash for a snappily dressed a-bit-too-cheery Apple geek to fix it. 

why i'm being stingy on the gold coins when it comes to this is as mysterious as today's malfunctioning noggin, though, after spending up big the last few days on many pointless things and many things that weren't pointless even though they seem pointless to the outside world.. DAMN YOU HOUSE STORE/PAPER SHOPS/CHOCOLATIERS/JB HIFI. 

So it goes. 

I also paid the extravagent fee that one pays these days for cinema adventures (when IIIIII was a boy, we walked ten miles to school and the talkies cost five cents and you got a bowl of licorice frogs and ... <- old man voice needed here, clearly ) to see the fine fellow pictured above, in action with my sister ( as in.. sister and i both saw him, not see him in action WITH my sister, that would be gross... too gross  ) .

And it got me thinking about human attraction to escapist films, why I become giddy at the site of nostalgic English smog-and-rooftops scenes and why we so badly want to delve into worlds where magic and/or protective grandfathery wizards exist. I... oh. This pre-amble took me my whole break to write, thanks to copy and pasting brackets , and now it's time to go.

I'll be back, blog. I'll be back. To fill you in on the aforementioned thoughts, on scenarios involving emotionally stunted russian-speaking neighbours, on sausage-obsessed (the edible kind, mind out of gutter please :o ... and yes, i know 'they're both edible' but seriously :I ..  ) housemates and all the other pointless factoids that my 'life' revolves around today. Note the quotation marks because since these are the insignificant and not particularly noteworthy , the title 'life', that implies some kind of progress, adventure or at least..movement, is not quite deserved. :I 

anyhow. the pathetic attempts at rain and the glorious sounds of my ipod are calling me.

xx

not drowning, waving

from inside a sea of letterist, situationist, marxist readings, as well as those against them, and all the blue links they require clicking on. no idea of my own thoughts as yet (had never even heard of these letterists prior to today) but well and truly off the essay path and treading through the bush. 

"All that was once directly lived has become mere representation. The decline of being into having, and having into merely appearing.". I like. 

a HOUSE. (said with the tone of the King in the King and I..)

Mmm. Not sure if you grew up on that movie like I did, Blog, but I could repeat it scene by scene. So to make sense, the title has to be said with Yul Brenner's tone while conceding to Buddha to "give this woman...a house" (insert "Mrs. Anna" 's joyful face here). Anyway...

Houses. They've got me thinking (well, correction the perfect coffee just ingested and the backlog of SCOTS readings when crossbred with buying toaster yesterday and talking to friend about her impending housemove has me thinking. ABOUT houses. But details schmetails).

I can't cook particularly well. I can't. It's a fact. One I want to remedy but a fact none the less (although it's all perspective I spose. I've managed to feed myself and numerous others for years, so I spose I CAN cook, but Nigella Lawson and Jamie Oliver would likely frown at the presentation etc when it came to 'plating up'. (ohhh masterchef, what have you done to my brain? (wow, it's very early for brackets inside brackets inside brackets) ) ).  And yet stores like House thrill me to pieces. Itty bitty domestic and tragically feminine pieces. My urge to nest is contrary to most other aspects of my personality, I think (irresponsibility and spontenaiety, being two that come to mind). But it's there. And drags me along on spending sprees re: jars and appliances and mugs and teapots, far too often.

If I wanted to get all oldschool psych on you, Blog, I'd suggest it was some kind of childhood of insecurities and feeling out of place, that drove me to be so thrilled everytime I migrated because it was another opportunity to make the blank ready-to-rent kitchen mine, to adorn bedrooms and living rooms with things that meant something to those dwelling there. To make cold open spaces cosy (with no talent whatsoever, don't get me wrong! I'm far from a skilled interior decorator. ). It's not even just the decoration though. The function matters also. Appliances that cook homely foods. Vacuums that clean my little world so nicely. A love of doing the dishes. It's all quite baffling. 

So is the strange fact that the other night I had a dream that , in opposition to my assumption of the future, I wasn't working, I was childrearing. Since when was that my goal? Since when did I even WANT little rugrats running around my house-with-cat-and-rug ? Gotta love the dreams that jolt you into realising you're maybe not who you thought you were. Even thinking about it in daylight it makes a large amount of sense. 

Are my twenties to blame for this? I don't know. I hope so. I hope it's that and not a sudden rush ( patriarchal society in a panic about it's downfall ? ) of subtle promotions re: women at home , that I've noted on tv, starting to get to me.  

But at the moment, I actually see no problem with that. Combining work with it would of course be idea, but am definitely recognising that little developing-psychologically children (damn you subject, damn you for infiltrating my brain irreversibly) would likely have a similar effect to toasters. Re: the home / family / nest / world .. thing. 

In the words of Alice.. curiouser and curiouser, that's for sure.

In other news though... It's sunday morning and 10am and I've already completed a fraction of the mountains of work to do today. And my ambition to make it slow, is well underway. I'm sitting here in baggy jeans and singlet by the 'fire' and have only stood up briefly thus far. It's peaceful. And interesting. And ... I don't know. I spose some might say I'm happy. Which is as disturbing as all the above. Because  a lot of this is the direct and indirect result of the Boy. Sickening as it sounds, it's not JUST his presence and all the things he says and does, that is influencing my general life attitude. But it's also things he doesn't mean to do... he actually inspires me, makes me wise, makes me productive, makes me BETTER. why? how?! WHO CAN SAY :I but I like it. And therefore fear losing it. Which is a new thing. One I'm not a fan of. 

But why dwell? 

In other other news... I watched half an hour of that incredibly shit "Meteor" movie last night, instead of the years I've spent avoiding such horrific ideas. And instead of being sickened with fear, as the phobia of apocalypse would dictate, I just laughed and changed channels. So far from the Theresa who collapsed into tears with Swan in the middle of the quad at Queens due to being told that something was currently hurtling towards earth and was due in 2 days. My my..the times they are a'changin' ... 

It's a bit scary to think I don't know where my mind will evolve to next :I but quite exciting. And turns out I have a fair bit of control over it afterall.....

Ah, life.