Fallacies of Morning Rose's Blurty

Subject:	"She still sings to you, you know."
Time:	1:44 am.
Mood:	giddy.
Music:	Moondance - Michael Buble's version.

When your imagination seems to have the left the building and boredom eats away at your creativity, drowning you in doziness, what's the activity that can rescue you and fill in those bleak, colourless hours?
Transcribing!

( This one took forever! )

( And a short Whose Line one.... )

Celeste and I went out tonight, and it was a lot of fun. We went to the local Returned Serviceman's Club (RSL), to have dinner. Of course, it's raffle night, isn't it? So the place was rather rife with the elderly. It was still pretty fun, though. It gave us a reason to dress up and sit down to dinner, etc etc. Afterwards we headed to the Ice Creamery in the main street and practically drowned in dessert!
It was this chocolate....ice cream...thing. Served in a tall frosted glass, there was four different kinds of chocolate ice cream, a dash of peppermint ice cream, what seemed like thousands of chocolate chips, and a liberal serve of chocolate fudge topping! Oh my gosh, it was sickly. I nearly died from sugar-sweetness-overdose!

Anyshoe, afterwards we walked to the cinema (for those of you playing at home, that's the fourth time in two weeks), to see Love Actually. I cannot stress how much I enjoyed this film. I had suspected to enjoy it - with such a great ensemble cast, who wouldn't? Also, as I may have admitted before, I am a shameless Colin Firth fan. (I so love his Mr Darcy in the BBC's Pride and Prejudice). The story was refreshing and honest. And, oh gosh, one scene was so moving. I do recommend it heartily. I wish I could say more about it, but it's already pushing one in the morning and fatigue makes intelligent commentary difficult!

Reading the entries and watching the polls for the

writingprojects community has been most intriguing, to say the least! The current results aren't at all what I expected...(And if you were wondering, yes, I did get my piece in on time.)

It hailed this afternoon. So stunning to watch. I had to break out of my enchantment to grab my camera and try to capture this ferocious, breathtaking display of nature. If they turn out well, I'll link to them. It's been raining/storming on and off all day. My, how I love storms. Such...electricity.

It's funny. Watching the film tonight, there was one particular moment were there was this brief, melancholy instant where I longed for fingers curling around my own. However, it was fleeting, and it only comes back to me now.

To celebrate our synchronous holidays from our jobs, Celeste and I will go out again tomorrow night, hopefully with Matt (not UM, not

nomin, the other one.) We're still unsure as to what to do. Do we:
a) Go see the Wesley House Players production of Twelfth Night (Celeste's ex-boyfriend is Malvolio, which makes that a slight grey area)
b) Go see Loony Toons: Back in Action
c) Go out dancing all night
d) Laze about at my house watching the extended DVD versions of Fellowship and Two Towers
e) Go night swimming in my newly installed pool
f) go busk with dramatic scenes, readings, and song at the rotunda in the main street of town.

We can both be stubborn and indecisive, and some days it takes us so long to choose. ("No, it's your turn to pick" "No it's not!" "Uh...yeah, it is." "Nah!"...and so on, 'till one of us caves.) What do you guys think? What sounds most appealing on a warm summer evening for an eighteen and nineteen year old girl, footloose and fancy-free, and all those other platitudes?

Comments: 4 grasped the thorns - crave the rose.

Subject:	I was running out of time and one-liners
Time:	2:29 am.
Mood:	sleepy.
Music:	Perfect Day - Velvet Underground.

I've been so busy lately with work that I've barely had time to sleep, let alone keep up my journal. And that's a pity, because I love doing this. I think that was why I felt so threatened when my use of this medium was twisted to suit and argument against me. But anyshoe - yeesh! I'm already off topic and I'm only in the first paragraph!

My work's been going well, despite it being the height of tedium. I seem pretty well on track and should finish the modification of all the credit accounts next week. I would have had them done this week, but a most curious stroke of luck has been doled out. Since I'm a temporary employee, I have no desk/computer designated as my own at the site. I merely make use of the desks of those that are away. This week, no one is scheduled for time off and, as such, all desks are filled. So, a week's holiday for me! Yay! I'll be able to finish the piece for the "Magic" topic comp, and get some errands done - and sleep. I'm still not quite caught up. But Cassie, aren't you typing this at around two in the morning? Well, yes. But maybe it'll help my sleeping patterns somehow! At any rate, perhaps it can help my grammar, which has been shocking of late.

Who wants a superficial story? No one? Well, too bad, muahahaha, because this is my journal! (Oh dear lord, I'm going insane. Clearly, I must have never have a job in finance.)
Those of you who have seen pictures of me (which is probably all of you - if not, there are links all over the journal to places where you can find them) will probably have noticed my rather long hair. I've been growing it for fifteen years, after apparently I told my mother I wanted long hair "like Darfy" (Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz). Ever since, my hair has stayed around waist-length. Often longer, occasionally slightly shorter, but not my much. The only change I ever made to it was deciding to grow out my fringe when I was twelve! I get a lot of comments on my hair, and I'm quite possibly vain about it.
Well, I made a major change to it. For the first time, I've used strong chemicals in my hair, and are using more product than my usual shampoo, conditioner, and occasional long hair treatment. That's right - my hair is now a mass of curls, otherwise known as a "perm". What made me do it? Good question. All I really know is that I wanted to do something different, without cutting my hair - I'm not quite ready to lose the length. I made the appointment almost on a whim. I had loose curls for my Graduation Ball last year, and I really liked them. I also may have mentioned to a couple of people than whenever I have waves/curls in my hair from tight plaits or what-have-you, it puts me in a really cheerful mood. Just another strange quirk of mine, I guess. I might post some pictures on my site later on that captures it.

What do you do when your brother has basically replaced you with your best friend in the younger sister,offsider, and right-hand-man role?

Comments: 5 grasped the thorns - crave the rose.

Subject:	Media, Entertainment, Infotainment, and the imagery of words. (Or, how Velvetandlace passes the time during holidays.)
Time:	11:02 am.

Well, here's the longer entry. Finally. I sat down to write it last night, but got distracted by this strange Icelandic film showing on SBS (A government-funded, 'Multicultural Australian' station. It has some quite good programming and some great foreign films and documentaries.) It's a comedy, called 101 REYKJAV?K. The blurb at SBS's website read as thus:

30? below zero, five hours of daylight, what else can you do but get smashed? Or so thinks 30-year-old Hlynur, who still lives with his mother and spends his days drinking, watching porn and surfing the net. After bedding a fiery flamenco instructor (intoxicating Almod?var favourite Victoria Abril), he discovers that she's his mother's lesbian lover - and may be pregnant with his child. A frank look at gleeful debauchery in Iceland, Baltasar Korm?kur's delightful debut feature also stars Hilmir Sn?r Gu?nason and Hanna Mar?a Karlsd?ttir. (From Iceland, in English and Icelandic, English subtitles).

As frivolous as it may sound, it was also quite fun, and I enjoyed it. The main character, Hlynur, spends a lot of the film musing about his life and philosophy, dying and becoming anew, about sex (and, of course, that particular musing takes place in front of two people in the middle of the act. Also, the constant instrumental refrains of the song "Lola" were a great motif. This was the first Icelandic film ever to be entered in the Bogota International Film Festival. I just read a great line about the film in an online review "nothing much happens in the film, but it's an interesting nothing." This is exactly the case.

Speaking of film, I recently bought the collector's edition DVD of Monty Python and the Holy Grail, my favourite Python film. And the special features are fantastic! You haven't lived until you've seen the Knight's dance in Lego. In honor of that, I changed my Holy Grail icon.

And continuing more with film, I watched the Australian Film Industry (AFI) awards last week. I have a real soft spot for the AFI and their subsequent award ceremonies, being the film geek that I am. The awards aren't glitzy, or glamorous, or even all that sophisticated (It's Australia, remember?) but it is just so good to see local talent recognised and celebrated.
I don't know whether this is obvious overseas or not, but the AFI is in serious danger. Film is in no way a strong export for us, and it's almost impossible for us to make marks on the international market. This, really, is the country's own fault. There is some wonderful talent here - but these great Australian films and television shows and actors just cannot get the backing from investors they so sorely need. We produce such wonders as Toni Collette and Cate Blanchett, and where do they have to go to "make it"? Anywhere but here, basically. We have fantastic Australian actors like Pia Miranda, who is so talented and respected here, and probably is barely known elsewhere. Directing gem of a man, Alex Proyas, has made two great films: The Crow and Garage Days, and they deserve so much more recognition. Rose Byrne deserves more exposure. It really is a sad state. For as much as forty years the Australian film industry more or less disappeared. It's starting to come back, into it's own right, with the Australian 'touch' of creativity. Please, investors, don't screw it up.

I wish I could give the AFI's the award for most watchable, tolerable awards ceremony, but that has to go to the Walkely Awards, which I also viewed a few days ago. The Walkely's are devoted to excellence in journalism. There's a fairly small crowd - the journalistic media is an elite society, and they like to be understated and small - and this was the absence of glitz. Perhaps the opposite of glitz. Where glitz comes to die. The best part? No recipient thank-you speeches! Ah, it was a treat. On reflection, the telecast would have been as boring as heck for anyone without a vested interest and knowledge in the industry in this country. But I did enjoy it. (Although, commercial news networks received far too many awards, ignoring our premier Australian investigative journalist stations, ABC and SBS much more than usual.)

Continuing with the media/entertainment theme...
I've just begun reading a fascinating work of fiction. Tipping the Velvet by Sarah Waters (The British Sunday Times young writer of the year). The book, I believe, has been adapted for television by the BBC, which I would love to see. It's set in the music-halls of London's 1890's, through an exploration of a lesbian romance. It has wit, it has irony, it has sensuality and sensitivity. I'm rather enjoying it. I've not yet finished it, and still I'd recommend it.

And on to music...
I have a few new albums recently added to my collection. Someone asked a while ago about my latest compilation CD track listing. That's far too long to recount here (220 tracks plus), so let me share instead, behind the wondrous cut, the fifteen albums being carried about in my CD case as I travel the streets in town. Keep in mind that by next week, or even a few days from now, this will have changed completely. If anyone has any recommendations, please feel free to make them!
( Read more... )

My toe is healing quite well, thank fluz, and I've been writing rather fanatically - perhaps as a result of current family situations, or the constant throb, or simply out of need? I started a new piece - prose, narrative - out of the blue. It's turned out quite bit darker than I had intended, and sense as a writer is telling me to end this story in tragedy. It's nowhere near as planned (no, planned is too clinical...crafted. Yes, crafted) as

docvergil 's intriguing current project, but I can see how this will trip and fall and flow and ripple, and I am pleased.

Unfortunately, Allison seems to have also been affected by my writer's mood, with a lengthy reply written and ready to send tomorrow. It doesn't seem as though she'll mind, thank goodness. I only hope my letter is as cheery to her as hers was to me. I thought my days of discovering new goodness and friendships (I stress, aside from those already existing) at the Idiotsite were surely gone, but she is indeed fun and clearly intelligent. I like making new friends, as I believe I continue to mention!

I really should end this entry and sleep, as I'm trying to bring my good sleeping habits back. Perhaps I'll just curl into bed with some soft music and linger over a few pages of my book before letting sleep carry me.

Comments: 5 grasped the thorns - crave the rose.

Subject:	Eek.
Time:	10:33 pm.
Mood:	gloomy.
Music:	Le Tigre - Sweetie..

Wow.
I had a long entry planned, updating you all about my life, which has been so much of the good lately. But I can't get past this.

My uncle - my mother's sister - suffers from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), after he was taken hostage by terrorists in Asia when he was a naval officer. He saw and experienced some terrible things, and he has not coped well with that. As a result, he has for a long time now been legally ruled as TPI - Totally, Permanently, Incapacitated.

Lately, he's been doing well, or so it seemed. He was off most of his medication, he moved back over to his family, and has been living as close to a normal life as he can. He can sit in crowded rooms, visit supermarkets, and do all sorts of things he couldn't before.

But today, he's been calling this place so much. The phone is ringing incessantly. He's...paranoid. He's threatening to sue my parents, to destroy his home, and he called my mother numerous times at work, and made her cry. This is unforgivable. He threatened her. Physically and mentally. He's been calling my aunt and abusing her too. He lives alone, and we're all afraid he's going to commit suicide. If he wasn't in such an unstable mood, we believe he would get in a car and drive to my aunt and try and harm her - or even come the eight hours out here to "have it out" with my mother and father.

The family member closest geographically to my uncle is my grandfather, and he's away, delivering trucks. No one can go to him, and no one feels safe doing so. But I just don't know what's going to happen and this scares me more than I can say.

They won't stop calling home - and I'm here alone. My mother called and told me not to answer the phone, so I'm not. They're calling my mobile even as I type. My Dad's out of town. This is all just wrong.

My mother just walked in. She's talking to her father - my grandfather, who we all know is not family favourite right now - and she's telling him to get my uncle psychiatric help/ NOW. He has the ability to do it, but it sounds like he isn't going to.

My mother is frightened, and since she's so strong, this makes me frightened. She's speaking loudly into the phone, and I'm trying not to hear this - I don't want to hear this - but I can't help it. She said she has never seen this before, and she is well versed in her brother's illness. My uncle is refusing to see or talk to his psychiatrist.

...Just been talking to my mother. She said he's not even talking any sense and that's she's not strong enough to deal with this.
But I have faith. I know she does.

Oh, God, I hate this. Things just do not work for my family since my grandmother died.
Perhaps this explains a little why I want twelve months out of the country?
This is too hard!

Why do they need to keep calling ME? Why do I have to be forced into this? I do not want to be a messenger. This is not my battle to fight. Living with my aunt makes this hard, it puts me in more situations to be brought into the middle.
As far as the family's concerned, I don't want to have an opinion. Oh, I have one, but I damn well do not wish to voice it and be involved in any of this - this being the whole scheme of things going on right now - and that is my choice.

I just want out, and there is no one that can take me away from this.

Comments: 7 grasped the thorns - crave the rose.

Subject:	Updatey goodness
Time:	10:44 am.
Mood:	lazy.
Music:	Run Lola Run Soundtrack.

Well, I'm home. More on that later. Let me try and fill you in with the banality of my life, first.

Sarah and I went to see the Matrix on Thursday night. And it was entertaining. But not what I'd hoped, though it did confuse me slightly. And I knew I was doomed when "fetch me the eyes of the Oracle" sounded a heck of a lot like "Bring me the broomstick of the Wicked Witch of the West." Also, there was visual likeness to the Professor Marvel, in scary Wizard of Oz form. Yes, I have indeed drawn correlations between The Matrix and the Wizard of Oz. I'm mad. It was good, however, to get out of the house and spend time with my friend. Sarah is such a lovely girl. We scored almost the exact same mark in the HSC (she 93, me 93.4), and both had Christine for journalism whom we detested. We get along very well and she's such a good friend. She and Robbie were first to actively approach and speak to me, and I was grateful for that. I told Sarah this, and she was stunned.
"Really? But you're so Nice, and Funny...I can't believe that! Glad I did, though."

After the movie, we headed to McDonalds. Not eating, just using the space so we could sit and talk and laugh. I caught the 226 (which has relevence only to bottled_tears) with Sarah back to her suburb of New Lampton. Unfortunately, at 9:45 at night, the 226 is NOT where you want to be. Because the thug patrol, "tha crew and their women", were also on the bus. There was at least 15 of them. It was like being stuck in a even-more-loathsome-than-usual rap video. Oh, the tryhardiness. (Yes. Not a word in most languages, but makes it way into the gibberish Celeste and I come up with). From Charlestown into New Lampton, one of the guys led the bus in an incredibly crude and stomach-churning song with all our favourite ideals like female objectification, and sexual savagery. Oh, joy. I stayed at Sarah's for a little while, and met her younger sister, before heading back home.

It was then my mother called me. My aunt had called her, in tears and stressful anger about everything going badly in her life: issues with her father (my grandfather), the tradesmen, her brother, the house, her trust funds and investment company, and...having me living there. Apparently she worries about my behaviour and I only add to her stress. I know she's upset and tense, but that hurt. She is a kind and generous woman. Not many women would put their lives on hold to move in with their parents and be a full-time carer to their mother, terminally ill with cancer. Not many women would choose their new town with a strong factor being that they could provide a home for their neice, to get her out of a terrible living arrangement. Not many women would set up their entire family for life after winning millions. I would hate to be the cause of her worry and I don't know how to fix it. I wrote her a card. Swearing that I would do anything at all to help lighten her load and make things easier, upon my return to Newcastle in February. I hope that helps. She seemed moved by it.
So, we left early Friday and got into my hometown that afternoon. The house is gorgeous. You must all travel from your respective states and countries to see it. (Or, y'know, I'll post pictures.) The front lawn and backyard are not as yet finished, and the pool isn't fully installed, but the house itself is operational and so spacious and comfortable. I love it, it looks great. I actually was so inspired by the perfection of the house in complementing our family lifestyle that I unpacked almost immediately. (Strange!)

I had to try on my formal dress, the one from my Grad Ball last year, to see if I could wear it to the Formal occasion out at the Golf Club. And, of course, it doesn't fit across my chest. I don't know how twelve months makes such a difference to those things, but there you have it. The result of this discovery was a tedious three-hour clothes shopping experience with the Sisters of Doom (aka Mum and Aunty Catherine.) Lovely women, but when they combine forces to take you shopping? ARGH! We finally found something, though, and it is stunning. Well, until I put it on. I have pictures, but not the upload time, so I shall provide them soon.

The Formal dinner was terrible. Long, and monotonous, and boring. I was the ONLY person under the age of twenty there! (My brother, being twenty-one, justr avoided sharing that offer with me. But we would have easily been the only two under thirty-five.) Now, this was a big deal. It was the centenary of golf in my city. And it was a slipshod affair. The entree was served at 9:45pm! People, this is just wrong! Dessert came around at about 11pm. Of course, most of this food was something I couldn't eat (if you're new to the velvetandlace saga, I'm allergic to tomatoes, and there's something about cheese that is inherently linked to nausea in my body), so that was pretty terrible. But it was nice to be out with my parents, my brother (who looked smashing in his black suit and - ahem - white shoes), my aunt, my mother's best friend and his husband, and my dad's best friend. Also fun was the fact that one of the waitresses was Matt's (Not UM nor nomin, but the one I know in-day-to-day, and if you know your trivia, is the first male I ever confessed romantic feelings for to his face, and is one of my closest friends) ex-girlfriend, named Kim. Kim does not like me. "Why?" I hear you all cry. Or perhaps it's "Who cares?" I hear you all mutter? Anyshoe. Kim detests Celeste and I, but not to our face of course, because Matt has a good friendship with us. He will hug us as a greeting. He will meet with us at every opportunity. We had in-jokes and history. And Kim couldn't deal with that. Or the fact that we'd known him for about four more years than she had. Kim is not a good person. And it was nice to know that she saw me, and had to be polite.

I wish Celeste had been there to see it! Speaking of Celeste, I met with her on Saturday. She and I had lunch at Red Rooster (an Australian chain of chicken-related take-away foods, where my brother is a manager and Celeste is an employee), and then wandered downtown for a little while, taking ridiculous pictures and talking. Pictures will, again, be posted when I have time. Celeste has found a great niche and social life - and an "almost-boyfriend". This makes me insanely happy for her, as no one deserves it less than she. I will give anything to see those closest to me happy - the people who are my golden bursts of sunlight in the shadow and make me sing with delight at their friendship - and especially, since I can't be there for those people, it comforts me to know they are doing well. Makes the distance easier to bear.

I bought the soundtrack to Run Lola Run. Haven't stopped listening to it.

I don't have a segue for this, but I just remembered a great piece of news - my brother has a graduate job! Isn't that great? In August, he'll start work as a specialist nurse (much prestige for a student only just out of university), as a mental health nurse for the Central Coast of New South Wales! Out of 1200 applicants, there were only two places. My brother, my childhood hero, gained one of these places. I'm so incredibly proud and happy for him. He was so hesitant before his two-week mental health prac a year or two ago, and now he wants to make it his life's work. There are rare people with so much good in them, and my brother is one. He gets to combine this with Community Nursing, which is his other occupational love.
Those of you who know your geography will know that Newcastle does indeed lie on NSW's Central Coast. I'll have my brother close to me again! He'll be working with seven hospitals between (but not including) Sydney and Newcastle. I'll get to see him more, he gets his dream job, he'll more than likely be living with his best friend Ben "Chappo" Chapman, who also will be on the CC. Things are looking up for him. He has until August before he starts, so he's making full use of his new position as Manager of Red Rooster.

The worst thing to happen when you have no lawn? A dust storm and 36 degree (celsius) weather. Add a white front door, porch, pillars and lanterns to the equation. Guess how my mother and I spent the power failure that was caused by the dust storm? Let me describe it this way: I swept the door. Oh, much fun. My aunt went back to Newcastle today, and so it's me and my immediate family until February! I never thought I'd be so glad to be home. We have no fences, though, which means our little dog can't stay here! Lucy is being looked after by friends. It's strange not having her around. She's twelve years old - we're quite used to her alternatively placid and cheerfully exuberant presence in our backyard.

I have comments to post and emails to send, but no time. Expect them soon.

It's even been good for me to be away from the 'net and my computer. It results in mega-rambles like this, but it also means I'm being constructive with my time. This will wear off, and I'll want nothing more than to be online, and chatting. That'll be when I need to work on my resolve. That, or my deviance. I think I'll start delving back into the art of letter-writing. Who wants a letter?

Comments: 4 grasped the thorns - crave the rose.

Subject:	"All is peaceful in my Rap Kingdom!"
Time:	11:49 pm.
Mood:	awake.
Music:	Animaniacs - The Additive Song.

Pinch me. Someone. Anyone. All of you.
It's over. I've finished this year! I'm still trying to get used to it. It's been the source of my stress ever since I got sick halfway through this semester and it'd been a struggle since. It took away some of the love I have for learning. I'm so relieved right now, and I can't wait to come back and make it better - make it like it was first semester. I'm hopeful.

Tomorrow, I go to the Auchmuty to set up a library account for next year, to Student Services to change my official mailing address, stop by McMullin and collect assessments, and then hopefully corner Megan in the Union and have coffee. And then, I don't have to be back on campus until February. It looks like I'll be attending O Week (Orientation Week, Fresher's Week, for you guys not a Newcastle!) because I've been asked to be a mentor for first year students within the faculty of Science and IT, especially, but to first years in general. I'm thoroughly pleased about that - I think it'll be a lot fun. Plus, it gives me a great excuse to find people to join the Choir and British Comedy Society with! Plus, the mentor T-shirts are bright green. Where can you go wrong? It'll be fun, too, to look at O Week now that I've been here for a year. I used to get lost on this campus. (I had a map and I still got lost!) It scared me. I didn't walk into Cybercycle (the Union's computer lab which I love - so bright and cozy and comfortable and so darn convenient) for almost a whole semester because I was a little intimidated by...the door. Yeah, I know.
Thursday is Sarah and I heading out to Charlestown to see The Matrix. That should be enjoyable - heck, it's always an ordeal for me to get to Charlestown - it's basically right across the city from me! Very fun bus rides full of people-watching.

And somewhere in these two days I have to clean and pack to go home! Yikes. Not looking forward to that part. And, with the unpacking I'll have to do when I get home, I have the additional pleasure (yes, there is a smirk there) of unpacking my whole bedroom in the new home.

Internet time, as usual, will be difficult when I'm at home. But this one's going to be a little different. For starters - this is three months, guys. A long time to be without access. Okay, so I shouldn't be completely without access. I can usually wheedle a few sporadic ten minute blocks through the days. But seeing me on IM programs is going to be like seeing a Tasmanian Devil - pretty rare and moving fast.

Secondly, I'll be working - assumedly at full-time hours - at the newspaper, staff writing. This means that: I'll be exhausted and will have written my quota of banal stories of the day (Really, how often can I write about surprise 50th birthday birthdays in a city with a populace of 40 000?), so who knows if I'll have the strength or eyesight to update? Okay, so we all know that won't happen...But it sounds appropriate.

So, I won't be around. But please do email me - ever since Wisey became unavailable to keep in contact, amongst other assorted events in my life, my inbox is very empty. It's a pity, because I love emails, and I love replying to them.

Monday, the 17th, was my Grandmother's birthday. I miss her.

I'm going to a Fundraising-Ball-Type-Thing for the Golf Club back at home on Saturday. My Dad's used to be Captain of the Club, and he now serves on the Board, so I'm going for him, largely. Myself, my parents, my aunt, and my Dad's best friend are all going together, and it should be pretty enjoyable. Plus, I get to be all dressed up in formal clothing and let myself be feminine and pretty. Anyone want pictures of Formal Cassie?

Comments: 7 grasped the thorns - crave the rose.

Subject:	"I could say I was there....and for one, shining moment, I walked in the world"
Time:	10:26 pm.
Mood:	stressed.
Music:	Butterflies Instead - K's Choice.

Guess what, guys? I exist!
Cathy called me yesterday and asked me to come to the amateur film night held at Uni last night (two of her short films were going to be shown.) I readily agreed - how could I not? - And I had a great evening. Sarah, Jackie, and Jackie's friend Rachel (whom I've met in the bar on occasion) came along, too, and made it a really pleasant night. The films, for the most part, were fantastic. Cathy's were fabulous. She has a great eye for cinematography. She's one of the would-be filmmakers out there that I could see actually making it. She and I kinda similar. Not in a weasel-stapler-insanity way, but in an academic kind of way. She's very sweet and I'm glad to know her. Sarah asked me to go see The Matrix with her next week before I go home, which I shall certainly do. She was talking about getting Robbie and perhaps even Luke to come along, too. It should be great - and I won't see those guys again until February.

My aunt and I went out for dinner tonight, which was pleasant also, in itself. I like getting out of the house and away from work and the computer, so it was very welcome. My bedroom's being painted, so I'm not allowed in there again until...Well, I can't sleep in there again until after I come back from Christmas break. I'm living in the living room, sleeping on the foldout sofa bed. I hate not having a place. My aunt's a little full-on at times and I love to have a sanctuary. Now I'm stuck without one and finding it hard to write.

I lock the door and lock my head, and dream of butterflies instead... I think I want to be outside right now, walking in the crisp, late November air. But I can't. I need to write.

I feel like I'm missing something, in a general life sort of sense. This unnerves me.

Comments: 9 grasped the thorns - crave the rose.

Subject:	Come and dance with me, in the sun-drenched meadows...
Time:	12:33 am.
Mood:	rushed.
Music:	The a cappella group playing in the background....

I received the "lost" English essay back today. The original still hasn't shown up, but the second submitted piece was marked and handed back - when, to my horror, I realised I'd completely forgotten to include my bibliography in the resubmission! I was absolutely mortified when I realised that, and naturally, yes, it did affect my mark. But even with that, and the ten points subtracted for "lateness" (picture an exaggerated eye-rolling there), I still managed to make a high credit. Thank goodness!

Journalism is over. Rejoice, my dear friends, and be merry, because the class that has been the bane of my existence for months is finished with! Oh, how to celebrate, how to celebrate. If only I could take the gleeful pleasure out of tearing up my notes, as I did for maths after the HSC (the rest of my notes are filed and archived, in my nerdy way), since I'll probably need the notes and the textbook throughout my degree.
I'm so glad I didn't go ahead with my very first plans to major in journalism. I knew I would have reservations about it, and I am indeed relieved to know that I don't have to take another journalism class, unless I want to. Yes, I'll probably end up working as one, for a little while, but by no means will I make it a career. Studies of media, however...Oh yes. I could live happily in a world of biting media criticism and impact studies. I could also live happily as a writer. But alas, though I am a dreamer, I have that darn streak of pragmatism that doesn't let me consider that quite yet.

Digital Comm will be over tomorrow, and I'll be glad for that, too. That will be four of my five down. English finishes Monday. I cannot express how glad I am that I could back into English. I missed it significantly in first semester. It's a subject I won't give up.

Things seem achievable now. I think this semester is going to come out as badly as I've feared - and my fear has been great. This semester, though the class material and a few moments in my personal life have been successful, it has on the whole been a disaster. Things are getting easier. I'm hopeful for a second year that will go better. I could be in England as early as October, and this makes me inexplicably happier with the drudgery that is my life right now.

For those of you that speak to me on IM programs, expect more conversation availability from me after Monday afternoon. (And if you don't talk to me on IMs, then do so! I miss long and wandering conversations now that the time zones have changed.)

"Language must be worn, but it is in ourselves whether we will wear it as an ornament or chains." - Maurice Morgan

Comments: 4 grasped the thorns - crave the rose.

Subject:	Under a tree, I sat, and wrote.
Time:	1:27 am.
Mood:	thoughtful.
Music:	La Vie En Rose - Edith Piaf.

That feeling, when you realise that you're going to fall and you can't stop? When you don't even have time to brace yourself, can't even throw your hands before you so they can absorb the brunt of the imapct. No, you're falling, by gum, and you have to just let it happen? Scary.

It just happened to me. I'm still a little shaky. I was walking down these steps, and...then I wasn't, I was falling instead. I have what I think is a bruise forming close to my right temple, grazes running the length of my left leg, and still more grazes to my right shin. Luckily, this usually largely populated part of campus was empty, so I was spared the humiliation of having others witness it.

I've yet to see a single friend today, and as I write this to type later, it's past 5pm. It's a little unsettling. I'm sitting curled under a tree, writing, and I'd love to have another person stretched out on the grass here, to talk with - when you joke with someone, and then throw a twig at them in mock indignation.

So I sit here in the shade, watching the shadow dance with the spots of sunlight that penetrate it. I'm listening to Fiona Apple at this moment, glancing up occasionally to watch as people walk the paths surrounding my grassy patch. The fountain is some ten, fifteen steps away, and directly in front of me. It'd be a breathtaking sight, if it weren't turned off.

It's a little cold - has been all day. I'm dressed more for winter than I am for the late spring. Its an odd sensation. After Beltane, the weather usually gets warmer and warmer.

Wow. Sudden stillness. No one, for a moment, was in sight. Only movement was the gentlest ruffling of leaves. I held my pen in my hand, words forgotten as I basked. The soft, smooth, slightly broody introduction to Gaelic Storm's Black is the Colour played idly into my ears, perfectly encapsulating the mood.

These moments of stillness is where something awakens. There's a quiet strength you didn't realise you had, perhaps, or a sense of the gentlest love. A moment of grace, of understanding. Maybe again you can see beauty. In a single moment.

And mine, right now?

I remembered who I was.

Comments: 6 grasped the thorns - crave the rose.

Subject:	Pseudo-academic ramblings about some truly interesting schools of thought...
Time:	11:46 pm.
Mood:	geeky.
Music:	Enchantment - Yanni.

I've been thinking a lot about the term "cultural technologies" recently. I studied it a little in Intro Comm last semester, mostly focussing on an article this guy Terry Flew wrote. It's a really interesting concept.

It's all about notions of cultures, notions of technologies, and bringing the two terms together as a notion in itself - hence, cultural technologies. There's three levels of understanding in the word "technology", apparently.
There's the simplest level, where technologies are the tools and artifacts used by people to transform nature, enable social interaction, or extend human capacities. So, obviously at this level, televisions and....nuclear reactors are technologies (go with me!) in the simple definitive form. However, these technologies can't do anything unless we make use of them. This is where the second level of understanding comes in.

The second level - and I went to dig up the Flew article again to make sure I was getting this vaguely right - is that technologies, as hardware - have no social value or use unless accompanied by content or 'software' - and this content and software needs to have a social and cultural dimension. So, a computer only has value when its hard drive has programs and software packages that allow you to actually do stuff with the computer in itself. So, this second level is all about the contexts of use, as well as the physical forms themselves.

So, the third level talks about semantics. Flew said it's something like...wait, let me get the quote..."the systems of knowledge and social meaning that accompany their development and use" (and yeesh, that quote was firmly hidden within the rather densely-written piece!) So, this is talking about new levels of education and training - in regards to making use of these new technologies. Basically, this third level is talking about the associated forms of knowledge that come with, say, computers (again, go with me!) from the specialised side of research, design and development, to a broader social understanding and competence in using these machines and other forms of technologies.

So, this is a multi-dimensional definition of technology that I personally think is neat, and I really love mulling over this point. But I can really be traced to the origins of the word in Greek, as far as I can tell:
Techne: technical or applied arts and skills
and
Logos: systematic reason, knowledge, or discourse
(Correct me if I'm wrong there!)

Anyshoe. These definitions point toward the interaction between physical objects, contexts of use....well, systems of knowledge, I guess. It indicates the technology is inevitably intersected with cultures. So there's a need to think about new media (the Internet, etc etc) as cultural technologies - assemblages of technology, content, context, social knowledge, and heck, even power relations.
But I'm digressing slightly.

There's also three levels used to define the idea of "culture." The first one is about aesthetics. It equates culture with the arts. I think it was Matthew Arnold, the poet (who wrote one of my favourites, Dover Beach), that said that culture was "the best that has been thought and known in the world." Culture is strongly associated with forms of artistic practice - usually with some kind of government support or...private philanthropy.

The second level is the notion of cultural studies (for those of you that have ever studied sociology, communication, or cultural studies - heard of Turner? He was the figure of this notion). So this is cultural studies as a new discipline of study. So this is a kinda anthropological level, defining culture as the whole way of life, or...forms of lived experience of communities and social groups. Basically, since this definition is such and expanded one, it draws to attention to other areas like communication, and social relations and practices of everyday life, and their significance to an understanding of culture - and things that were not always considered cultural.
Anyshoe. Some of these practices are organisation of production, structure of the family, structure of the institutions that express and govern social relationships and the ways in which members of society communicate.

So, in addition to artistic and intellectual activity, and the ways of life of communities/groups, we have the third definitive level. This one comes from semiotics, structured anthropology, and somewhat Marxist theories of ideology. This last theory is discussed by guys like Levi-Strauss, Althuser, Eco, and Barthes - this is about structural analysis. So this talks about how maybe individuals are not 'free agents' in society and culture, but rather produced as social beings, within this given system of...social, cultural, linguistic and psychological relationships - with these underlying social codes that aren't necessarily accessible, or easily extracted by these individuals, who are expected to adopt, and conform to, these codes.

Basically, culture is discursive. It's a psychoanalytical and sociological process upon which individuals are made to fit within a culture. Yeah. (Lost yet?) This all ties into the cultural approach to communication = where communication is understood not only as sender-message-receiver, but what has been described as symbolic process where reality is produced, maintained, repaired, and...transformed.

(I love this stuff!)

So, at times it's best to see technologies as cultural forms themselves. The concept of cultural technologies has become of increasing interest within communication and media, and cultural studies. See, media as cultural technologies produce not only content - you know, texts - but there's also spatial practices, and forms of consumption...these are material practices with structural effects and...tensions, I guess you could say. So, anyshoe, cultural technology links technology to philosophy. Basically, this leads to a debate as to whether this idea of cultural technologies sets premise for philosophy, or whether its pragmatic and dominated by reason...

So, yeah. I find this stuff incredibly interesting! I almost wish I was still in Intro Comm, just so I could back and study this some more. I think this stuff is just so fascinating, that there's these whole schools of thought and ideals about this - and that I get to study this!

Maybe there's a thesis in this...Hmmm...

Comments: 4 grasped the thorns - crave the rose.

Subject:	You know, I used to be a back porch poet with a book of rhymes open all the time, knowing I'm never gonna find the perfect rhyme for 'heavier things'
Time:	1:54 am.
Mood:	sleepy.
Music:	The Professor/Split Screen Sadness, alternately..

I gave myself the evening off, and I've been transcribing and reviewing Whose Line games since. It's such a stress reliever these days. I'll definitely have to find another game to devote myself to once I - well, either finish, or reach as far as I can with it!

I...Hey! *replays song again*
There's a weasel reference in Beck's song, Loser!
Forces of evil in a bozo nightmare
banned all the music with a phony gas chamber
'cuz one's got a weasel and the other's got a flag
one's got on the pole shove the other in a bag...

Aha!

It's only nearing the end of one in the morning, and I'm tired. I'm never tired around now. I'm sorry to have to say it, and to have my sleeping habits like this, but this is early for me! I usually have a few hours in me yet! I think I'll turn in momentarily.

I've got my first in-class test since last semester on Monday night. Excerpts-into-context from my English texts. It shouldn't be too difficult, but I want that darn elusive HD, so I'll probably spend tomorrow re-reading as many of the texts as I can muster. That's the beauty of it being Representing the Child - Children's literature isn't too hard to re-read in short amounts of time! It is also some non-computer based study, and goodness knows I need a break from this damn thing. I spent EIGHTEEN hours in one day on this thing! Not necessarily online all that time, but using the comuter, nonetheless. That's slightly more than disturbing. Another reason I will secretly glad for my parents' anti-Internet status. I need a break. (Not that there's any way I won't be around, we all know that.)

John Mayer's song Split Screen Sadness has inspired a story in me. I think I'll enjoy writing it! I'm going to start after my test tomorrow, probably. I think I need to put thr weasel one on the wayside for this. It feels important. I may post some of it in

writingprojects, if it comes out okay. The lyrics, the source of this inspiration - if you're interested, can be found here.

And while I'm providing lyrics, here there are for this utterly brilliant song I'm listening to right now - Damien Rice's The Professor. This is a folk/soft rock type number, and I love it. I'd never listened to any folk/club music in my life until I accidentally ended up with a Dar Williams song on my end of a file transfer - who as you know, is now one of my favourite artists - and now I'm really enjoying this other folk musician, Damien Rice. Anyone know of his stuff? I'd recommend it, if you're a Dar Williams fan (which would be...okay, only Stefan.) This stuff is quite a bit darker, but still insightful and narrative and honest. Anyshoe. Lyrics* here.

Ah, my comfortable bed calls me away from this largely pointless - or was it? - entry.

(* My attempt at translating the french part of the song runs as thus, but please correct me if I'm mistaken!
The girl dances
When she plays with me
And I think I like times of silence
I do not dare speak, therefore,
When one puts together the words
on the small...)

Comments: 4 grasped the thorns - crave the rose.

Subject:	I know she loves the sunrise, no longer sees it with her sleeping eyes and I know that when she says she's gonna try....well...It might not work because of other ties, and I wouldn't want to break them...
Time:	10:36 pm.
Mood:	impressed.
Music:	The Dangermouse Theme.

I finally caught up with Jess and Megan again, which was fabulous. They are their same selves and it was so good to see these friends that I've known since I was nine years old - especially Jess, who I'm particularly close to out of my friends from home. The girls (they are best friends and live together with Megan's father), will be coming home when I do, and we have plans to see each other as much as we can.
And Megan has a brand-new boyfriend, which is delightful news indeed. She's such a lovely girl, it's about time these guys woke up and realised just how lovely she is.

I'm in a slight Danger Mouse-y mood at the moment! Anyone remember Danger Mouse? He rocked. Today, I called into the union, where they were having one of their regular poster and print sales. I'd never actually wandered through one, so I made the short detour and headed in.
And I am enchanted.
I'll be back. Oh, yeah, you can bet I'll be back. There were film posters: Reservoir Dogs, Amelie, Nosferatu (!!), Casablanca...., fantastically vintage prints, novelty prints, prints of artworks - including my favourites, Dali's The Persistence of Memory , Munch, Picasso, Van Gogh....Oh, if only I had unlimited wall space. Next time it is there, I'll have to grab the Nosferatu poster. I love that film. So perfectly horrifying...
But my purchases? One was a stunning print of Alice in Wonderland - not the cute, Disney version, you understand, but the darker, more sinister and with slight fae undertones. At the bottom of the picture reads the caption: "We're all mad here." The other is just fun - Dangermouse!! Yay! Expect pictures. I should show off the back of my door - it's fun. I'll update later tonight with them, perhaps.

I received another assessment back today. I was .1 from a credit, which is annoying! (Our system here, if you're confused: Pass [P], Credit [C], Distinction [D], High Distinction [HD]. Luckily, as is the policy with all Digital Comm assessments, they are resubmittable - so when the penny drops and computers suddenly make sense once more, you can re-try. I'm going to hand mine in again on Thursday. I'm going for a HD, and by george, I am going to get it!

I have my activities pretty well planned for the holidays. Aside from my job (which is 90% guaranteed with pay), there's a few other things I'd like to do. Obviously, the musical and the Pantomime I mentioned in my last entry is part of the plan. I also hope to finish - as much as my capabilities allow - my Greatest Hits project. It's going to be evolving for some time, but I want to finish at least what I have waiting to do. In a similar vein, I'd like to do a project, similar to this one, on the game Narrate. I also have a few other WL analyses I plan on completing.
I don't want to be idle. I want to be able to set goals for myself and then achieve them. Of course, I also can't wait to go bother my old high school and see my friends. I'm going to enjoy this break. I have a new attitude now, I think. I want things to be different, so I'm going to make it so. Heck, maybe I'll even take up singing again, before I join Uni Choir in February.

Beltane tomorrow. I'm incredibly excited. I'm going to out to this quiet park for my ritual. I love Beltane - it's the day of fertility, love, passion, friendship, growth, the dancing around the maypole, and many more things I may go into tomorrow. My only regret is that I don't know any pagans here in town, as Beltane is such a social, people-oriented celebration. But that's okay. I've been so introspective lately, another day of it won't hurt.

I shall update later tonight, or sometime tomorrow, with zany, Velvetandlaceian pictures!

And: Run Lola Run is one of the most amazing, important films of recent times. I cannot stress this enough. It is breathtaking.

Comments: 8 grasped the thorns - crave the rose.