pointless pasting of pompous paragraphs

I just read a few of my other entries and am shocked at their ability to stay on theme and not wander down too many darkly lit tangents. That's about to temporarily change. A more-nonsensical-than-usual stream of consciousness entry is to follow. Because I don't really know what I want to say but I want to say things. :I

Let me start off...with Canada. Which hypnotised me when I went there, and is doing so increasingly recently for some mysterious reason. You know those places that just feel like home right away? Yup. That's Canada. Is it because they speak French annnnd English? Because so many of the Canadians I know have such a healthy culture of vegetarianism, eco-friendliness and just all around good values? The homeland of Charlotte Diamond, Feist and a plentiful sack of super songters? the scenery? elks? What's not to love. 

Another thing that is impossible not to love is a boys with dark hair and dark eyes and sweet thoughts . One in particular, though. Who I can't believe has stuck around through such an annoying chunk of my life. Not only is he one of the most incredibly brilliant , interesting, hardworking, honest and quite often very silly, people I've been honoured to know, but he's also the most patient person I've ever met. Ever. When I first met him and my mind was in tangles over prior events, he waited. While I was curled in a car seat as my stomach tore in half, he waited. While I made indecisive choices at the supermarket, he waited. While I've pissed him off with countless apologies for the above, he's waited. While I've been sorting out this bizarre section of time, he's waited. Not waited tapping a foot and reminding me how great he is for doing so, but waiting with a giant warm Apple smile, wisdom and the greatest arms in the world. It sounds mushy, and this truly has amazed me. It's also kind of cool that he gets that things he's waiting through are temporary. It's like.. he.. knows me. And knows who I'm 'meant', for want of a better word, to be. How did he do that at the start when he didn't know me? :o

I simply didn't know such a person existed. And that this person also happened to be a person I happily spend most of my time with, who listens to so much of what I listen to and reads great books and is destined to leave one-of-a-kind mark on the world. I could write pages and pages about the various traits he has and the fantastical things he says and does, and you know what? I probably will, as days go by, but the point of this morsel of post was that last night I was amazed all over again as I backtracked momentarily to where I'd been a few months ago and he didn't up and leave, but stayed and , in fact, made what I wrote of as a bad night , a lovely one. Not many people can do that and I hope that he finds I do that for him some of the time. 

Next random input. <- see? i told you. snippets and illegible rants and pointless phrases. 

Orbs is having a baby. Yes, orbs. Orbs with no job, a huge alcohol problem, a girlfriend of about a month, no ability to resist flying into violent rages. Orbs. Why? How? I'm not saying that the child won't be adorable and he won't be a good father, I'm just saying... I think it's really poorly thought out and there is a substantial chance that the former will be how it is.  And yes, I know, these things happen and aren't always thought out and sometimes even turn out brilliantly,  but truly.. if there was someone less ready for parenthood.. I'd be amazed. Or is my borderline-arrogant disbelief just fueled by the fact that I personally envisage raising children who have what they need financially, who have a solid family to be there for them, who have a balanced lifestyle and who's parents aren't alcoholics? Have I just got too many older friends who happen to have just had children and are feeding them wholesome food in a comfy Carlton home, taking them to PMP and watching them grow into happy, well adjusted kiddies , and have begun to think that this is the norm, when I know it's actually not? Or .. have I just seen too many of the people close to me struggle successfully, but struggle none the less, to overcome growing up in situations like that?  I don't know. But the news made my jaw drop, that's for sure. And I'll be fascinated to see who this mini-orbs becomes.

I.. oh this really is a terrible post. I love this blog. I love that posts CAN be terrible.

And I feel like baking :I How's THAT for a pointless sentence . 

I have to do uni work, actually. So I'll need to come back. To say the many random things I want to say. Heck, there's even bunches to say about the uni work. Bother bother. The urge to do this and play scrabble and download music is so strong... but luckily, so is aforementioned desire to be in paid full time society-beneficial employment so better get to it. 

Stupid question though.. why can I only post one picture , and only post them along the top? and I wonder how I link songs... oh the fascination that is the cyberworld..

tactile treasures

it's far too nice a day for computer screens and homework. this is one of those occasions where I don't love the convenience of so much coursework being online and my writing being abismal enough to warrant typing all text. I just stood on the balcony for a delicious ten minutes, and it's so .. grounding, despite being wonderfully high off the ground:P

It's all about the senses. Did you know that the fragrance of flowers actually alters brain chemistry and boosts serotonin etc? Myeah. But I think just the noting, of these sensual things.. wakes up important parts of me.

The grit on the pavement beneath my bare feet, breeze in hair, snippets of sunshine on skin, smell of the street and the sky. Nice.

It's important in this online homework era to just BE outside, not walking anywhere or doing anything, for a while each day. Since I've started doing that I've just felt better all round. I sat in the park yesterday for three hours and just felt, watched, smelled and heard things. So much going on. Yet nothing. But. Sadly, the fact that I'm badly craving full time post grad work at this point means I want to finish uni which translates into screen time aplenty, particularly right now. So I'll go do a chunk of assignment. Then go outside. Then come back, Blog. Because you and I, we have catching up to do. 

i am cheese and wine

As in.. aged . 

And for the first time, I can feel it. 

Normally birthdays leave me feeling secretly too young. which is very different to the 'young at heart' I will always want to be.

No, being secretly too young requires recoiling in horror at bank forms you don't understand, despising heeled shoes, being hideously insecure about who you are and what you want, getting too drunk too often, the list of undesirable traits for someone now into their twenties is endless and pretty descriptive of my last decades. 

This year, however, this birthday has come just in time. September Fourteen landed on me mid-transition from the above to actual adult. And the key to this, has been realising that more than one kind of adult exists. My reluctance to become my parents got a bit confused there with reluctance to become a grown up, as it seems to with everyone. But the more 'adults' I meet and admire, the more I can happily morph into one. Adults who don't have permed ridiculous hair, who aren't dressed entirely by Myers For Women, who love their intriguing brilliant partners, who love the job they skip to where they make a real difference,  who go to gallery openings and cafes and earn money and spend money and travel and read things other than Woman's Day, who haven't accepted where they are as where they'll always be and who aren't tired and worn down by the grind of a life they hate, but instead increasingly alive thanks to the doors continually opening for them and the life they're living the way they want- something you don't get to do at any earlier age. 

Yes, similar to the prepubescent dreams of teenagerdom with  it's overflowing opportunities and cool, I'm now having the similar sensations about being in my thirties. It's quite odd. 

Like my coffee snobbery and inability to bother trekking long distances, I blame it all on the inner city. For the last few years, instead of seeing Soccer Moms trying to stay 'youthful looking' and  crying into wine about boredom and botox somewhere in Camberwell, I'm tripping over adorable toddlers who are attached to lecturers with dyed hair and Genki coats,  or being asked my opinions on a book I'm  reading in a cafe by someone twenty years older but reading the same book, or watching very organised but completely unbored couples gathering what they need at the market for nights ahead with equally unbored friends. These people are me, but smarter, more financially secure and with more exciting life experiences behind them and, key point that is often overlooked, ahead of them.

It's not the end. I'm not dead. I'm just getting started. And it's a little bit exciting. 

Know what else is? Some of this guy's stuff . 

Every few pictures there's something that jumps down my throat. I like. Also love some of the captions. "Later he told me the lawn chair only tasted ok." ..

the best laid plans of mice and men..

yup. today's plans went astray. Not unlike my intention to post a feminist rant of some discription re: the rage that had hold of me all yesterday over body image and such, rekindled by that Miller girl's 'plus sized' feature in Glamour, or whatever it was. I'm sure it'll get posted. Half of it saved as a draft before I disappeared to do things in the real world. But for now..

Today was going to be stupidly lazy. Last night I taped a swarm of semi-trash, and documentaries as well, on Damir's foxtel contraption, to get me through what was a Saturday with no plans and the anticipation of very little study motivation. The plan was to vegetate and stare at them, escape into that happy little world that such shows promote until forced out. 

Instead, I slept a solid ten hours in a nest of pillows, after reading comfortably for the first time in months as opposed to at an odd angle in my plastic chair, until my eyes burned despite the cosy gentleness of the lamp being used. Don't know whether it was the comfortableness, the tiredness, or simply the air-of-the-boyfriend that remained in the house even when he'd gone, but it was a very very peaceful eve. Woke up refreshed and in studious slow mo. In no hurry to move, so studied some and became enthralled by tales of archeology and arks, religions and relics, countries and countryside , thanks to the History channel. Someone who struggles to lie in bed even after just five hours sleep, stayed put until nearly noon, completely absorbed and relaxed. Grand. Incidently, another thing that was grand , was being allowed to stay at all :D But more about that later. More about the actual docos later, I suspect. When the ability to form sentences, better sentences, has woken up a bit more and when I've done more work etc.

Spent another chunk of the day reading in the sunshine outside, talking to the neighbour and her dog, and just generally soaking in the world. Much better than escapist tv, I must say. But rain and curiousity about things only the internet could inform me of , following on from things read and seen during the morning, forced me back inside. No hardship considering aforementioned warm light is now on again and the whole room feels like home. Spacious enough to not be cramped. Cosy enough to not be lost. I like it.

And I like Baillie St. Sitting on the steps out the front of the house and seeing skeletal trees stretching either side of me,similar houses with their little individualities, strange cloud patterns above me, people and pooches passing , the works. love. 

anyway..will come back, fix this up, write things , but for now... burning to learn more. see more. do more. 

xxx

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'.