Friday, June 30, 2006


The dread has been boiling up inside of me for the past week. I don't think I can face going back to school, really. I'm with saru, and thinking of faking my own death just so I don't have to go back. Everytime I try to analyse my feelings about it, I end up getting frustrated with myself and pushing the thoughts aside instead. This isn't the same old feeling I get whenever the holidays end though. This feeling is far worse. This is the worst I've ever had it. I can't explain how bad I feel.

I have to admit something to myself: I'm bored. I don't know it all. It's not like I have these amazing skills that aren't being utilized because I'm already so fantastic. I'm not. I'm not a wiz in the art room. But I'm just bored of the day to day drudgery of grade in, big mess, grade out, start again. It gets monotomous. I'm bored because all those other skills I have; like dealing with individual students' problems, attempting to solve the learning difficulties of students, fostering the enjoyment of reading/writing, thinking creatively in the class room - just aren't being used anymore. I feel unimportant and sort of useless.

On the other hand, there are many plusses to the job. I'm doing something I think is amazing and that kids enjoy. I get to build relationships with all the children - not just one grade. I am learning new and interesting things. I don't deal with the stress and horror of parental involvement. I love being involved in something so creative - but the pain of it is. I'm not being the creative one here and I need to face that whatever I do in my life, it needs to be something where I can use my mind creatively - even if it's not with paints and bloody raku gold. So, meanwhile in the hurricane of creativity going on around me I find myself inside the vortex of nothingness..inside I just feel empty. I feel like such an idiot for feeling like this. Obviously I will see it out until the end of the year. I'm not sure if old art teacher will come back or not. I think it might be a dumb move to keep chopping and changing jobs all the time as well. It *would* be in my best interest to just stick to it for another year and build myself a position that I can actually put on my resume. One year at something just doesn't cut it in the teaching world, or any world really...I guess I don't know what I want. All I know is this feeling of dread.

The other thing I'm dreading is S's birthday dinner tonight. It will be the first time in over two years that E and M will be in the same room. That would be the friendship that disintegrated 2 years ago when M didn't go to E's engagement, citing another engagement as the reason which was followed closely by E cutting M off at the neck and bringing up shit from 1992 to add fuel to the fire. And, yes, that would be the argument that I graciously said that I would stay out of so that I could still continue being friends with both (since I have known M since I was 8), except that E told me that I couldn't be her bridesmaid if I was M's bridesmaid as well - which then caused me to crack it like broken wrist at E for involving me in an issue that had nothing to do with me. I am Switzerland, goddamnit. Switzerland! Sometimes I wish I was a boy. Do they *ever* have these dumb arguments?

So, yeah..dread.

Thursday, June 29, 2006

the personal ad experiment

Today, in an effort to prove myself as the world's biggest geek I made home made croatian donuts. It was an age old recipe handed down from ...the internet, but mum used to make them back in the day so I remember how good they were. KK aren't all that flash I tells ya. Of course, since I also happen to the world's most pathetic cook they only sort of turned out. By "sort of" I mean..they were a bit err.. chewy. Not to worry, I'm sure the next batch will be right on track.

Then I got to thinking about how crap I am at cooking and how I've really degraded every single woman in my ancestry to shameful lows with my inability to cook. After all, I come from a long line of fabulous cooks, amazing, wonderful grade A cooking machines! I actually love trying things out in the kitchen frontier, but those dishes don't always work (and sometimes it involves the fire department). What if (according to psychic) I actually do meet Mr. Wow and he is is wonderful (..don't really believe her on this) and then I poison him with my food and he DIES?! This would be a tragedy. I hope Mr. Wow can cook for himself and is just looking for a normal (err) girl with other qualities (that I'm sure I will develop later..when I actually find out if I have any). Gee, men! What the hell do they want anyway? Cooking, cleaning, sex pots who can talk about sports? okay, yep.

So I'm, sitting at the table next to a bunch of donuts that are too chewy and mulling over my tea about how I can find out exactly what appeals to most men (as a common denominator) and come up with the most craptastic idea that I've ever had!


I am an evil genius. People tend to be less inhibited on the internet because they don't have a fear of getting bitch slapped for having some sort of deviant point of view, so it's really the perfect plan to see what men respond to...at least a certain subsection of men anyway.

So, I posted two ads. One was pretty much a true representation of me - in that it was just like any of the normal everyday drivel you'd see on here. A bit funny, a bit dorky, a bit dumb etc. Normal girl was asking for a "romantic relationship" and the ad had the word "soulmate" in there. Yes, these are words that have been known to make wheelchair bound men get up and run a country mile. BUT, it was a really sweet ad and also so many women out there really are looking for something nice and romantic and fun - so the ad happened to be true of most "normal" women I'd say. The other ad was your basic naughty vixen ad: begging for a spanking and asking in no uncertain terms to be "looked after" financially in return for sexual favours. Neither ad had pictures. Neither ad had any personal descriptions (though I *did* say that normal girl had 'squishy bits' and that vixen girl was 'avg weight/height'). I thought this was important because actually, normal women do have squishy bits and don't all go to the gym every day because duh, they have normal lazy lives just like normal men.

I posted the goodies and then went off to do a load of washing.

When I came back to the computer (20 mins later?) I had something like 45 replies. Boy did I have fun reading through them. About 18 were for normal girl and the rest were for naughty vixen girl.

Normal girl, although intially the 'loser' (we'll give it a few days) recieved some lovely posts from men who responded to the romantic side of things she wanted. One said "don't worry, I've never cheated on a girl!" - obviously this is something that has been a worry for most women that he has been around. Many complimented her on her wit and congratulated her on being so personable and "real" (well, it was real - even though I don't have any inclination to reply). One particular male responded to her post that said I'm looking for a guy who is honest, caring, hilarious and fun who doesn't smash beer cans on his head or farts the alphabet. with "you are asking for too much" - which would have been funny except it wasn't a joke. The guy was serious! I can tell that normal girl isn't impressed by men who tell women that they are looking for too much. Normal girl is willing to take these kind of men down..to chinatown and beat them silly until they understand that looking for someone who is caring and nice actually isn't asking for very much at all!

Naughty girl gets the initial win - she also got some very, very interesting proposals including I would tame you and make you feel like you never felt before. I know how to please a women and I love to tame wild animals too (hello tiger!) And other assorted x-rated stories that would be guarranteed to make your hair curl. The amount of men who actually responded to being a 'benefactor' to a young vixen is amazing though! All of them wanted a no strings arrangement whereby they were willing to "put vixen through college" just as they've helped numerous other young women. wow (not Mr. Wow though). It's sort of like prostitution really. Normal girl is a bit perplexed that so many men would and do give money in place of love and devotion. Normal girl wonders why women accept this willingly.

I wonder about this for a while and so I take the whole experiment further, maybe naughty vixen has too much personality and that's why she gets so much attention? So I post another message - no age, no description only this;

bottom line - I'll do anything.
I want to be degraded

Anyone in their right mind wouldn't answer this mail.
7 responses in 1 minute after midnight somewhere in the US before the message is removed as "spam"
3 with phone numbers!


So then I post my original idea - who knows?
I'm a cooking, cleaning, sex pot who loves to talk about sports.

I get one mail that asks seriously, do guys really want a women that cooks and cleans for them....thats so outdated, I dont think men even think like that anymore....i'm I wrong?

au contraire my naive friend.
cooking, cleaning sex pot who talks about sports gets 14 mails in 5 mintues before she too is flagged and removed from the site. "Spam" is the reason given.

In conclusion, I find this whole mess highly perplexing*, though I am as confused as ever. I need to learn how to cook. STAT!

Since it's already out there, I'll keep you posted on the progress of Naughty and Nice ;)

*normal girl feels really guilty for leading the nice guys on btw. It was a consequence she hadn't thought of before she pressed the 'send' button. :(

Wednesday, June 28, 2006


When I was a little girl my nonna lived with us. She had blue/green eyes and powdery white hair. My dad had green eyes too. Sometimes in the light my eyes go green as well - but only two people in my whole life have ever noticed it. They are both people who have bothered to really look. I think a lot about that, looking and really looking. Sometimes I am surprised by the things that people don't notice about eachother.

My nonna had these amazing fingers. They were long and spindly and she was able to twist and manipulate them to make amazing things. She could crochet anything. Mostly she used cotton to crochet little round doilies and long thin table runners. I used to sit by her side watching the needle stab its way in and out quickly and effortlessly while she told me stories of her homeland in hushed whispers. She could also knitt and used to make me little tops I could wear. Once I went to the yarn store and was told I could pick any ball of wool I wanted and she would make a top for me out of it for my birthday. I picked a bright pink one with threads of silver sparkle running through it. The top was sleeveless and scratchy (because of the sparkle) but I wore it anyway. After I got too big for it I unravelled the work and kept the wool. I still have it somewhere. I plaited a whole bunch of it together and used it as shoelaces for my docs once upon a time.

At night, before dinner she would go into her little room and get out the rosary and pray on her knees. I used to get on my knees too, but I didn't know the words so I'd look up at the portrait of my grandfather instead and wonder who he was. Then I'd slide over her bed and play with the items on her bedside table. Little trinkets from her past. Pieces of jewellery, a lamp with a silky hanging fringe that I'd run my fingers over, back and forth until my mind went numb and all I knew was the tickles of silken thread across my fingertips.

My favourite piece was this little china jewellery box in the shape of a piano. Since I was piano girl, I loved that thing so much. My nonna said I could have it, but after she died my older cousins came and took everything, Everything. My little jewellery box was gone and all I had left were my memories of it. I can hardly write this without getting sad about it, even now. It was highly unfair, children have no power.

One of my earliest childhood memories is going on long walks with her. Long sunny day walks through the back streets commenting on the houses and naughtily picking flowers from the front gardens. Picked flowers from front gardens and wildflowers are my favourites, imperfect but sweeter smelling. Flowers are for more than just looking - people are too. I loved coming up with a posey of my very own and holding it up to my nose cherishing the sweetness as I skipped along beside nonna.

She used to spend hours making fresh pasta and I would be there beside her helping make the shapes of the orecchiette. My fingers were slow and clumsy next to her fast and adept ones. There was always flour everywhere. She wore a flowery large apron that went right over the top of everything, like an art smock. I wore a little white lacey one that didn't cover anything but looked fun. My impracticality meant that I always ended up with flicks of flour all over me, not unlike now - except with paint.

She didn't get on well with my mother. They didn't fight, not really - but there was a mutal dislike under the top layer of niceness, simmering. I don't really know why they didn't like eachother - except that they were both strong women with strong ideas about how things should be done. I guess that's what I can say for a lot of things in my life - underneath the surface the bubbles are dancing. They both liked pottering in the garden though and that probably was the only thing they shared, apart from my dad and us. I was often torn between loyalty towards my mother and loyalty towards my nonna. Sometimes she would use my brother and I to manipulate situations to her favour. I knew what was happening and I hated that. I can't even imagine how my dad felt about it all - or whether he even noticed. As we've already established, not everyone notices everything they should...or could.

Later on in her life and when I was nearing the end of my primary school years - my nonna had a stroke. She wasn't allowed to go on her long walks very often because I was too young to look out for her properly and my parents were always too busy to take the time to take her. I remember her frustration at being so old and treated like a child. She used to walk along my Billie Jean hallway instead - working out her discontended resentfulness up the length of the hallway and back again. It was sad.

After she died I used to hear her slippers shuffling up and down the cold tile hallway for a long time. When I'd check, there was never anybody there. There were other things too, perfumed smells where there was no perfume around, sounds in empty corridors. After a month it stopped and everything went back to normal.

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Tuesday, June 27, 2006

the right kind of man

Firstly, ugh. ARGHH! What the hell was THAT? Penalty kick? Oh please! Now, I know that soccer is this game where sooking it up in order to get a free kick is what you just do. I understand this because the kids do it at school when they want to get out of doing something or want a little sympathy but the refs really need to handle it like we at school do "aww, just splash some water on it and it'll be right". I feel the "just splash some water on it" way of dealing with things should be introduced into the game of soccer - and perhaps in the gaza strip too. Maybe then we could have avoided a crappy end to a game that should have come to a more organic end. Now this isn't sore losing talking. Oh no, given we had gone to golden goal time I think we would have lost anyway. It was just a crappy way to go.

I have been de-flowered, so to speak and had my first Krispy Kreme. I agreed to "go with" to FountainGate as long as I didn't have to wait in line. I have a bit of a problem waiting. I've never been to FG before so I thought I could go do some shopping instead. Shopping is fun. Um, no. Talk about a festering hole in the middle of a festering hole. I sort of trudged around looking lost and forlorn while the crowd outside stood in line like a bunch of freakos. Why on earth did I agree to this anyway? Never again folks. In the end I think waiting in line would have been preferable. Anyway the donuts were donuty and yum. Unless they move to civilisation though I won't be partaking further. Bye bye KK.

F had her baby. It's a boy! I can't wait to see him. Maybe we can raise him, communal style to be the right kind of man and he can bring joy to some lady! God knows something needs to be done about the state of men in the world! #2 used to wait until her brother was asleep and sneak into his bedroom and whisper "pot bellies on women are hot, pot bellies on women are hot" into his ears while he slumbered. I have sat bro down and given him the low down on treating women nice. We see it as community service. It really is.

At #2's wedding, her groom got up and gave this heartfelt speech about becoming a man and how lucky he was to be surrounded by so many good role models that helped him to become not only a man, but the right kind of man - and that help is what he attributes to being able to find the woman that would make him happy for the rest of his life (yep, awesome right? Where *are* these guys?).

What makes a man the right kind of man anyway? The list I've come up with is the kind of man that knows how to be kind, how to love both women and men (ie: with respect), how to give, how to keep peace, how to be honourable, how to fix mistakes graciously, how to look beyond the superficial, how to cherish, how to be a good role model for their own sons, how to protect/provide and not only knows the difference between right and wrong but is able to face up to the responsibility of living by that. I really want to stress, this is not about being picky. This is just what I think makes a man something worthy of being called a man. All the other stuff that goes along with that is personality based and quite individual - that's what changes the right kind of man into the perfect man for a particular woman. I don't know, maybe I got the wrong end of the stick. It's food for thought anyway.

Monday, June 26, 2006


For me Musical Monday isn't really about introducing new music, I won't even pretend to be so knowledgeable about music - for certainly I'm not. I just assume that at least 70% of people who read this journal know or have heard of the artists I drone on about. The music I feature is usually stuff that's been on high rotation that week in the car or the stereo or has a personal history behind it.

Today, both. And I assume that 100% of people already know of this song and 99% of people should have this album. I say should because the album is bloody awesome.

Oh yes.
Thriller - Michael Jackson
Which I have been listening to pretty much exclusively for about a week and a bit. I play it and then I play it again and then just when I think I'm sick of it, I change my mind and it comes on again.

I know the images of him are less than impressive but before he became a crazy white lady who molests young children Michael Jackson was a cool black cat with awesome hair, killer dance moves and excellent music. The moral of the story is that you can take the boy out of childhood but you can't take the childhood out of the boy apparently. Let's all be very afraid for our own futures eh?

Obviously I'm too young to actually remember this album coming out. I don't think I was quite that in tune with the pop culture world when I was 4, but the impact of the album stayed around for years and in school we were all absolutely obsessed with Michael Jackson (and Madonna...let's not forget Madonna). It's been about 24 years since Thriller made it's debut and the songs are still fresh - especially the big hits. That, kids is what we call a CLASSIC. Pretty much every song on this album is a winner - even the craptastic The Girl is Mine is okay in an whimiscal, amusing kind of way. The opening track Wanna Be Startin' Something is one of my all time favourite first tracks on an album, ever and the trio of Thriller followed by Beat It and Billie Jean all in a row is genius.

My association with Thriller stems mostly from my cousin MT, who is about 12 years older than me and quite possibly the coolest person I knew while growing up. In the 80s she looked like Kate Bush with the dark curly hair flying about everywhere and the red, red lipstick. She actually influenced a lot of my musical beginnings - Michael Jackson, Madonna, Kate Bush, Donna Summer etc, just by playing these artists constantly. She knew I loved Michael Jackson but that I was scared shitless of the song Thriller. I had seen the video clip and that was bad enough - but it was more the sound of the screeching gate, followed by footsteps and howling in the opening minute of the song that made me go into hysterics. I mean screaming, running around with my hands over my ears and begging for it to stop, hysterics. Of course she'd trick me by getting me to sit down on "good couch" in the living room and tell me she was going to play a really cool song and then crank out Thriller - to which I wouldn't dissapoint by screaming my head off. Once the beat actually started I was fine but cue in Vincent Price and I would run out of the room again. Secretly, I loved it.

The song that really did it for me was Billie Jean though. I don't think I can love this song more than I do. It is absolute genius from the bass line to orchestration and it's smooth. The song is just really smooth. It refers to a woman who was stalking Michael Jackson, claiming that he fathered one of her children. I love the lines:

People always told me be careful of what you do
And don't go around breaking young girls' hearts
And mother always told me be careful of who you love
And be careful of what you do 'cause the lie becomes the truth

Words to live by.

I know I have told this story a million times, but when I saw the video clip to Billie Jean all I did was practise walking up and down the tiled hallway stepping inside the tiles and pretending I was Michael Jackson. I did it for years, I even brought out the lacey gloves I wore for my first communion and put them (one) on for the performance. When it was proposed that we change the hallway tiles I pleaded and begged my parents to install ones that light up when you walk on them. I brought them into the hallway and outlined exactly my plan to have glowing tiles in the hallway and how they would work you see, you step on them and then they glow! You can see where you're going and it looks really ...cool!

No dice!

Billie Jean is the song imortilised for debuting Michael Jackson's famous moonwalk via the Motown (25 years) music concert. That is one magical performance! I think everyone has attempted the moonwalk at least once. I attempted it about 25,000 times (I'm not ashamed to admit) down the said hallway until I wore a hole in my socks. I got good at it. Judging by #2's wedding on Saturday and the playing of Billie Jean there, many people from age 25 - 40 have been practising doing the moonwalk too.

So, Musical Monday - an oldie but a goodie. My personal favourite from Thriller: Billie Jean.

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Saturday, June 24, 2006

note to self - the wedding edition


note to self - chinese foot binding shoes, like hysterectomy pants aren't going to hold up past hour 2.

note to self - cleavage top bad, bad, bad! I thought we figured this out last time! ugh.

note to self - clean out closet at some point these holidays - looking for stockings and coming up with chiffon scarf from the 80s isn't ideal.

note to self - no stockings in subzero temperatures sucks.

note to self - when handing out wedding programs to guests, do not attempt to make small talk and end up with programs on the floor.

note to self - when handing out wedding programs to guests, do attempt to be there on time.

note to self - boys don't make passes at girls who wear glasses.

note to self - only have a sook when wearing waterproof mascara.

note to self - don't ask the girl who is out on day release from the "hospital" whether she's "been doing okay?" Chances are ...uh no.

note to self - next time don't advise someone on giving the happy couple the boring card and to save the exciting Kylie and Jason "Especially for You" card for your wedding instead because you'd "appreciate it more".

note to self - chinese foot binding shoes + parking too far from the church = sooking while wearing non waterproof mascara.

*edit*: The Reception

note to self - champagne on an empty stomach is bad

note to other - 2 bottles of red and 2 bottles of beer to yourself is worse.

note to self - the robot may look cool in your head, but probably does not on the dancefloor.

note to other - yep keep on doing that moonwalk..riiiight out the door baby.

note to self - chinese footbinding shoes will kill you on the dancefloor.

note to other - hi I'm a girl I have soft bits..don't elbow me in them.

note to self - moving away from designated table in order to participate in discussion on other table about embarrassing famous crushes (hello! am I an expert or what?) will mean that when you get back to your table your porterhouse will be cold. :(

note to DJ - black betty...probably not a good song for any GIRLS to dance to. What the hell kind of moves can you do to that anyway?

note to self - taking "the scenic route" at midnight probably isn't the best idea.

note to guy who works at my school who surprisingly ended up at the wedding - I've now seen you breakdance and twist around on the floor using your head as leverage. You are sooo busted.

Friday, June 23, 2006


The news on the street is that Krispy Kreme donuts is finally coming to Melbourne. What has been happening up until now is that small corporations have been sending their staff on "business trips" to Sydney and these staff members happen to come back with about 5 dozen KK for the rest of the office. Clever, but I'm on to you. Of course schools can't afford to send anyone on a business trip anywhere (excursions to the zoo don't count) so I've never tried them but I ask how good can they really be? I refuse to believe that they are better than any other normal donut out there. Do they even sell the hot jam or cinnamon variety? These are, of course, the king and queen of all donuts - anything else is simply a "cake".

Anyway, the fact that KK is opening tomorrow has prompted everyone to start planning their orders (I have been invited to partake in several "Krispy runs" already). I'm curious as hell. The store is opening at Fountain Gate shopping centre. This is where Kath and Kim hang out, for those not in the know ...and that somehow seems quite appropriate.

Everyone who isn't talking about KC is talking about the Croatia/Australia match. Somehow like everything else this has renewed the "what is Australian?" debate. Half the Australian team are of Croatian descent - some of the Croatian team are Australian/Croatian - so who do you follow if you're Australian and you're Croatian too? (love the last line of that article btw, VERY Australian. heh). And why are we seeing so much vox pop about it?

It's interesting how these sorts of questions are always asked from a typically fair dinkum Australian to the core except when they were English/Irish (yep) point of view. So, I guess the question is But you were born here, so why don't you follow your country? I guess it's hard to know what it's really like in this situation when you only have one heritage. There is nothing to compare your Australianess to if you are millionth generation Australian and so the question can come across as patronising. Comparrison is important here.

I knew this person, once upon a time who was partially deaf. Being partially deaf affected every aspect of his life. It affected his mood and even how he interacted with his children and wife. When he wore a hearing aid and turned it all the way up the sounds he heard were both muffled and strange like as if he was swimming underwater. Yet, he knew how lucky he was to be able to hear even that. But despite the freedom that the hearing aid gave him, it also annoyed him. He knew himself to be a deaf man. He had spent much of his life before the hearing aid as a deaf man, interacting with other deaf people and living a life that he had fashioned and comes to terms with as a deaf person. And so, he was happy much of the time to leave the hearing aid out and be enveloped in a blanket of silence. He also loved the idea that he could put it in and become a "hearing person" as well - this suited him too. He was okay with being a dual personality but his family was not. They never understood why he wouldn't wear the hearing aid all the time and learn how to hear "properly" with it and interact "properly" with them. The problem was, they didn't know that "properly" meant something completely different to him than it did to them. What is properly in this situation anyway?

When you are a first generation Australian born from Euro parents you grow up with a typically fractured identity - you are always torn between who you are and what you feel you should be. You are constantly called apon to behave properly whether it be properly European or properly Australian. What is right anyway? What is proper? Loyalties are stretched because you are constantly flirting your way between home and outside life which are usually as different as you can get. Even something as straight forward as a school cut lunch turns into a debate about fitting in and questioning 'who am I?' When it comes to events such as soccer, which is a game not appreciated here in the same way as it is overseas, you might be caught in between identities in a different way than if you are following the Olympics, cricket or commgames. Sometimes you take the hearing aid out and sometimes you put it back in. You do it because you can. You do it because you are afforded the luxury and depravity of being both. Personally, I'm a socceroos girl all the way - but I wouldn't be opposed to a couple of other countries getting up there. You don't put all your eggs in one basket, that's all - that bet was never a safe one anyway.

Completely unrelated: a question that arose from a discussion I had about men and their need to be protective: Do you sleep with a baseball/cricket bat or some other protection under the bed? In speaking to L we came out with some weird stories about the men we know and the lengths they will go to in order to ensure that there is adequate protection under the bed. I, for one have no protection. Maybe I should get some, but to be honest I proved many years ago how useless I am with a softball bat (swinging must be an art I think) - I wouldn't know how to use it anyway. I'm looking around the room at the moment and wondering whether a spray of perfume followed by a smack to the head with the lamp will buy me some time if I were ambushed by some freako.

Lastly, to the person who found my journal by typing in "advice about marital affairs" - it's your lucky day. How about this for advice? Don't shit where you eat. :)

Wednesday, June 21, 2006

Today is..

It's a blue icy day. I love these mornings, with the sun streaming down in cold ribbons, everybody rugged up but happy. I text my friend in qld - and she comes back with blue skies and warm stories. I tell her my cold happy ones and we go on our merry separate ways. Another text from the teacher who found god (and a psychologist) - hugs and well wishes for my "future". I laugh and send her back warm wishes with hugs like bookends beginning and completing the message. Then another and another - all sweet messages. I feel loved today, someone really wants me to finally "get it". Maybe I do ...for a second.

#1 and I pile into the car and we make our way out to what we affectionately term "the bloody sticks" much to the annoyance of F, who we are visiting (at her house) because she's too pregnant to leave it. Any day now..any second.

The route takes us up Sydney Road - with its crowded Turkish establishments, car doors hanging on by a thread and Mafia (..funny that we all know it's there but noone does anything about it). It is always a rush of raw energy, this place. The corporations haven't moved in yet, and so the food is still good and cheap and the people are still rough around the edges as demonstrated by the man covered in spray paint whistling as he walks merrily back into the local supermarket. Dodge city, but in a lovable way. I try to imagine what the faded stores signs would look like all done up and bohemianised like they are on Brunswick Street. I give it 10 years before we're all paying way too much for Kebabs on Sydney Road.

Leaving behind the bustle of the dodge, we move onto the Hume, a flat stretch of road crowded with red-eyed drivers manning oversized trucks. I swerve, cut through, yell, get annoyed, and just plain give up. I'd much rather be the passenger if I'm going on a trip - too much pressure. Otherwise I'm happy to drive alone because I can turn up the radio and just sing crap songs (Believe it or not it's just meeee) without anyone minding too much. By the time we get there, we've taken a few wrong turns (or "taken the scenic route" as we like to call it) we're such city slickers, we laugh.

F is all belly, in that adorable way that pregnant women are a few days before birth, but she is still somehow able to curl up into a ball and sit demurely in the armchair. I am amazed at her. We can't wait for bubs to be born. F, of course will be a fabulous mother but is already worried about the isolation of being a mother who doesn't want to be a typical "mummy". I understand - no mother's group for her. Who wants that anyway? Can't think of a worse way to go insane actually. I suggest she start her own renegade group of misfit mothers who talk about other things like...life, books, philosophy...Oprah, you know - normal stuff. Baby talk and vital information about fingernail growth kept only to the first 10 minutes. I am met with a rousing applause. There could be something in this.

By the time we leave the sun is low in the sky - a violet hue over the horizon. I am reminded of a line in a song Pink ribbon skies that never forget. Our friend is producing her own - this is a very cool thing.

Monday, June 19, 2006

time to gather up the splinters

A few years ago when I was still studying (I use the term loosely to mean back when I borrowed books from the university library under the guise of studying and then forgot to return them because I never actually used them and I would end up with fines in the hundreds of dollars and not be able to get my results until I paid them) I came across a book called House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski. Basically the book is about a house whose interior is larger than the exterior - complete with spaces, corridors, doors and walls that shift when you're not looking..and sometimes when you are. This thought terrified me. It still does, to tell you the truth - I wonder about the book but I haven't been able to read it again. At the time it had just been released and though no one was discussing it in the real world, the internet world was abuzz with activity about it. I suppose it lends itself to the internet culture more than any other - the book itself is not quite what it seems. Part pseudo-academia (complete with footnotes), part horror, part poetry, part code, part memoir, part psychological study and a little bit hypertext. The book somehow goes beyond the page - into video, into speculation, into music. It's one of those books that enjoys a legion of hardcore fans who have read it 50 billion times and are still trying to figure it out. Good luck.

For me: I was terrified. I read it so many years ago and it still haunts me. I can't tell you why exactly - but I spent many a night with one eye open..

When I first bought my copy (after many months of hunting it down) I opened it and a postcard for Poe's album Haunted slid out and onto the floor. I knew of her, but not anything specific. I picked it up and flipped it over wondering why a postcard for a CD was in a book, it said that the CD was an accompaniment for the book (I later discovered that Poe is Mark Z. Danielewski's sister and that she wrote the album around the same time he was finishing it) - so out of curiosity I bought the CD. The CD also had a small postcard in it, but advertising the book.

Haunted is not just an amazing concept album but also an amazing collection of songs. Apparently before she started writing the album Poe had a dream where her dead father (a documentary film maker) told her to "find his voice" - a few days later she came across a box of his tapes containing many hours of his explorations and words. Some of these discoveries have made it onto her album Haunted. I can see how both siblings were influed by their father in their respective works - House of Leaves main idea comes from a footage of documentary film found - an exploration - of the strange house in question. I'm glad the siblings got together to mesh things together. It's a cool idea. After I finished the book I had Haunted on high rotation for a long while. Like the book itself, the album has its haunting bits - some echoes of children's voices subverting the songs - but it's also amusing, romantic, creepy and rocking.

So, my favourite song from the album is the title track - and quite appropriate regarding my own little explorations of late..

Haunted by Poe

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Sunday, June 18, 2006

quotegirl <3

10 year old Kid: so Miss, ..What's a teacher taking home these days?
lol, obviously not enough if I'm fielding these sorts of questions.

crying kid: I have a big problem
okay..tell me the problem
I was playing with my brother and his friend and now they won't let me play anymore!
me: aw, I'm sorry. Where are they playing? Let's go see, maybe we can work something out.
crying kid: They're over there *points*. We were playing pirates - they were the pirates and they said I could be the parrot
me: ...

prin: okay we have some serious issues to discuss regarding JB. Any recent problems?
female teacher: he screamed continuously and when I tried to remove him from the classroom he lashed out further.
another female teacher: he threw things around the classroom and then ran outside.
female teacher: ..then he called me stupid.
young female teacher: he called me a dumb head.
male teacher: well he called me a silly bitch and kicked me in the shin.
prin: well, yes - he's quite a clever child.

office lady: I came home the other day. My son and his girlfriend were in my bed. There was a bottle of chocolate body sauce on the coffee table, a Newspaper cage on my front porch and the garden hose in my living room.
me: jesus christ...what the hell were they using the garden hose for?
office lady: ...that's the bit that scares me
this is surely why boarding schools were invented..

*sitting on shorefront with bro*
bro: I fucking hate sea gulls
me: me too, they're just so sqwalky and greedy.
bro: they should have cock fights but with seagulls instead
me: haha, that would be popular. Everyone hates seagulls!
bro: all you'd have to do is attach a piece of food to their heads with string, maybe roll them in bread crumbs and they'd go for it really quickly!
me: ... you are sick.

psychic: so, any other questions?
me: oh god, I hate myself for asking this..but will I EVER get married? EVER?
psychic: *tells me prediction*
me: ...okay, is this going to happen when I'm 60 or something? I'm getting a 60 vibe!
psychic: *laughing so hard she needs to take a break*
I need to work on my poise, I swear. Less is more. Less is more.

me: Today is your last day of working on your collages. *going on to make a detailed description of what needs to be done*
*3 minutes later*
does anyone have any questions?
little girl: ..how *do* you remember *all* of our names?

teacher: I'm going through some difficulties. I've found god and that's helped me but I'm also seeing a psychologist. I know people would be surprised to hear that, but it's helping me deal with some issues. I don't really know who I am. I want to find out about my life. I want to know if I'm living towards my potential
me: oh I know exactly what you mean. I'm dealing with those questions too. I think it's great that you are being proactive and seeing someone to help you forge a plan of how to deal with your anxiety about yourself. Good on you.
teacher: so, what are you going to do?
me: ...I'm seeing a psychic tonight.
*both of us holding eachother up and laughing*

me: so Australia/Brazil, whaddya reckon?
bro: we could be a chance!
me: yeah, a chance in hell
faith is a wonderful thing.

me: oops, I got lost! SORRY!
M: oh no, I was wondering where you were! Why didn't you ring?
me: I figured I'd find it eventually!
M: ...um, no - that's not how it works.
me: meanwhile *nice* neighbourhood!

E: I can't wait to get my little puppy!!
me: it'll be so cute! I love it when they're so little and they can't quite handle their paws being so big.
L: So, what are you going to call it? Do you already have a name picked out like you do for your future cat?
E: no, I'll just wait and see what'll look like.
me: call it "pooky"!
E: You want me to call a German Shepherd "Pooky".
me: yes!
E: ...You can't call a dog a name like that.
me: well *I* think you can't call a dog 'Kate' or 'James' or anything like that. THAT would be wrong. It's a dog not a kid!
E: ...good point.

I have a question for you. When you wear sneakers do you untie them so that when you put them on again they are ready for a nice new bow? Or are you like me, who slides them off, kicks them into the corner and the next time you want to wear them you stubbornly refuse to undo the laces so you end up on the floor with one leg in the air pulling on your shoes like they are a pair of galoshes? Just wondering.


Friday, June 16, 2006

the shining

The only time I've ever been to this side of town was once when I got lost in the depths of what they used to call the rural urban fringe one time and drove (like an idiot) aimlessly into the new housing estates surrounded by empty lots of land. These are the places yet to be populated with young couples affording their first home. At that time instead of stopping I kept driving onwards and into the darkness until the only light was that of my high beams on the road directly ahead, and then the tar stopped ..and the road was like a frayed ribbon and then nothing. I tend to do this a lot - I go until I'm left with nothing but a dead end and then I turn around and try another way. I don't always think things out. I don't always stop, plan and then go. I go. I make the mistake. I stop. I reflect on what just happened. I go.

There are better ways to operate I'm sure, but they sure are more boring.

The psychic lead me into a room and commenced touching me (best grope I've had in a while...err) and telling me things. She started with "oh my god you've got a lot going on. HIGH ENERGY! HIGH STRESS". I guess that's everyone, huh? That's what I thought to myself - then she described exactly to a tee who was stressing me out and since I've never mentioned them to well, anyone.. god it was pretty weird to hear some of that.

I don't know if I want to talk about what the psychic said - not exactly anyway. She didn't freak me out or anything, but gave me a few home truths mixed with absolutely accurate personal and physical descriptions of one particular person in my life. She told me very few things I didn't already know and that's interesting because they also happen to be extremely personal things that I don't often (read: never) talk about - but these details were specific, not vague. This was not an experience that I walked away from wondering whether this or that is going to come true. Sure there were a few key predictions that will be interesting to see if they pan out, but apart from that it was mostly a this is who you are - this is what you do but what you'll end up doing is related in a way but not the same - and this is who you're thinking about and this is exactly what they're like and why you are connected but ultimately ...not. You need to deal, girl.

I *do* need to deal; with a lot of issues actually. Some things she said resonated very strongly. Nothing she said was a complete surprise. I know myself pretty well and also there are things I just know in general as well.

So, apparently I am particularly gifted with kids with difficulties (learning difficulties and behavioural difficulties) and am attracted to dealing with them [very true - yes they drive me nuts but they are also the ones I carry with me all day long] - child psychology is strongly around me [I always said I wanted to go into this but there were a few issues that stopped me from persuing it fully at the time that I was initially studying it]. Mentioned journalism but more as a passion . Will stay in this job for a while longer - but there will be more study and then something else (delving into the family business stuff. *sigh*). Also mentioned young children.
..not a spinster forever - he's a lil bit older, and we will meet in unusual way..he'll make me seriously laugh at first meeting and then that'll be it.

no shit. I could only ever fall for someone who totally had me at the funny bone.

there ya have it.

Thursday, June 15, 2006

not feeling very gay.

A group of kids started taunting one boy in the grade and calling him 'gay' today. The poor kid was just cowering while they all ganged up on him. Poor thing. I very nearly lost it and had to stop the class to have 'the talk' (first the "pooing your pants talk" now this?). You know which talk I mean: the discrimination against gays is the same as discrimination against race talk. They got that.

Why is it that people still don't get it though? Being gay shouldn't make someone a second class citizen and quite frankly homophobia is as bad as racism. Why are people such boneheads anyway? How hard is it to just accept that people have slight differences and just get on with it?

Sometimes I woe at the state of the world.

So the gay thing has been in the media lately anyway with the Liberal government interventing to stop homosexual civil unions in the ACT. Here's another article too. What's that - The Libs going against anything that isn't a virgin giving birth to the blessed and then chaining herself to the kitchen sink while she takes her piece of shit for an excuse maternity leave and then sqeezes out another for her country? Wow, that's a surprise wouldn't think the libs would be the ones to pick on gays and lesbians.

Is it just me or are we Australians actually spiraling back in time? Cause I could swear I got up this morning and it was 1954 complete with cold war with certain countries and general abuse of civil rights.

Oooh, but marriage is so sacred! We cannot allow that to be tainted! Yeah right, you know if marriage was so sacred noone in Hollywood would ever be allowed to walk within 2 feet of a bridal store. Case in point: TomKat, Brangelina, K-Fed and Brit. I mean seriously, if the government wants evidence against how sacred marriage actually is these days then Little Johnny Howard needs to go buy the latest issue of NW and read all the Charlie Sheen/Denise Richards antics in there.

Why is it that it's okay for Bec and Lleyton to get married and subject this country to a spawn of mini mutant tennis playing crap actors and then probably get sick of eachother and no doubt be featured on the front cover of Australian Women's Weekly in a gross display of public divorce but gays can't walk down the damn isle? What is so wrong with gay people getting marrried? I don't get it.

I especially don't see why the church is playing into this debate when it is obviously a government/law issue. When will we elect a government that will finally tell the church to shut their pie holes and concentrate on delivering a sermon that is actually interesting and relevant instead of pissing and moaning about gays? I would love to know how much longer we're going to be living under the guise of separation of church and state and instead actually SEPARATE them.

I truly don't understand what is so wrong with gay marriage. What makes heterosexual marriage more worthy of law and acceptance than gay marriage - isn't love and commitment, love and commitment regardless of gender?

Wednesday, June 14, 2006


I had this weird arse dream last night that I was in Japan (never been) and trying to find a place to have a shower. Everywhere I went there were people following me and trying to peek behind curtains. It annoyed and frustrated me. In the end I ended up watching my friend have sex with two gorgeous black men.

hey! WHAT??!! REWIND!! ...WHAT? I SAID, HUH?
watching, staring, perving.
yes I am considering checking myself into the local very soon (local pub that is).

You know, some people write well thought out interesting posts in their journal about the state of the world, global politics or maybe an interesting take on relationshps, lovely art or beautifully crafted sentences that roll through your mind like waves in an ocean. What do you guys get from me? SMUT and idiocy. Bless you for coming back and to quote New Kids on the Block I'll be loving you forever (..are any of you black?).

I attribute my journal blah-ness lately to report writing. You'll be mighty disinterested to know that I have finished two whole levels (that's over 200 kids) of reports and have about the same amount to go before I am done. I have set myself the task of finishing by Friday (also known as 'visiting the psychic' day and 'last day of school FINALLY!!!' day). This of course is a pretty big ask since I only started a day and a half ago, but I have stocked up on redbulls and chocolate. I've thought ahead. The thing with ingesting any kind of stimulant to help you stay awake though is that you feel like absolute shite the next day and write posts that make no sense. Sorry.

I've wanted so badly to write - really write, but I can't.

Sometimes I'm a story without any of the right words in place. I don't know if that even makes any sense.

EDIT *you should all go check out clare's latest entry. Where she has quite ingeniously figured out why it is that men love football (of the oval variety) so much. Talk about being right on the money!

Tuesday, June 13, 2006


* Did anyone else get a how the hell did that happen? feeling when Australia won against Japan last night in the soccer? The Herald Sun called it a "Miracle" -Yep, we're behind you 100% boys. We're all feeling a bit special now down this neck of the woods now though. P.

Of course, staying up to watch it meant I only got about 4 hours sleep (that's bad)
But since I was also grading pieces of art while watching it I got my prep reports done (that's good!).
But now I'm really tired and might not get any reports done tonight (that's bad)
But at least I'll get a good night's sleep and maybe I'll be up in time to watch the Croatia/Brazil match (that's good!).
..I think I might have to invest in a slab of my friend Red Bull in order to get everything done and dusted by the end of the week (that's bad).
But it will probably be the difference between crashing and staying up (that's good)

* One of the staff who had a baby last year has brought him in to say hello. Babies sure are wiggly and cute. Bloody stupid biological clock and clucky feeling: be gone!

* I made the appointment with the psychic (I'm sure the more rational of you are thrilled to hear it!) - I'll let you know if I'm going to get run over by a truck or something.

* I've gone off big brother a bit (read: a lot). This is the first year where the housemates have truly been boring -all of them. Not even the oh so shocking "I'm gay" announcements could turn this bunch into something more than a yawntastic festival. Besides isn't practically everybody gay now? If someone came out as straight it'd be more shocking I reckon. They should get a whole gay house and put one straight person in there. Now that would be cool. You'd think at least the boob jobs in the house would be kind of interesting also, but really - they aren't. Boob jobs are highly crap IMO. Do men like them? Personally I think they're creepy and may come alive at night and kidnap young children and smother them to death. Just a thought.

* I was thinking about the game of Gay Chicken I witnessed at the pub the other night. Two straight guys facing off for a tie breaker in a pub quiz. In case you're not familiar with the term, gay chicken is when two guys go in for the kiss and the first one to pull away loses - sort of like when you get two cars speeding head on towards eachother and one swerves out of the way. It's about having nerves of steal... or something.

Why do so many straight men find gayness such a challenging concept? If you're straight and you know it then what's the big fucking deal if one drunk guy thinks you might be gay? I can understand if everyone you know starts giving you a hard time about it, but seriously would that happen from a game of gay chicken? Does kissing a guy in a game of gay chicken make a straight guy gay at all? I don't think it does at all. Why is it okay for women to engage in this kind of behaviour with less hard feelings that men seem to give themselves?

Anyway, in this game our contender wouldn't even lean in a little. His wife was giving him the "no way, you can forget about sex for the rest of our marriage if you ever try" look - so he had no choice really. But I doubt he would have gone in anyway. If it was my husband and he didn't go for it I'd be mighty unimpressed that he lost us the game to tell you the truth. Does that make me weird?

Monday, June 12, 2006

Badly Drawn Boy

Every week there's this little voice in my head that tells me to do a Badly Drawn Boy post for Musical Monday but every week it's supressed by some other more appropriate for the moment band or song. It's the Queen's Birthday Weekend (bless!) and why not celebrate all things pommie? So this week, is all devoted to Badly Drawn Boy, who I discovered not by his (Damon Gough) absolutely stellar album The Hour of Bewilderbeast but by listening to the radio a few years ago and hearing the song Silent Sigh which was featured on the soundtrack for the movie About a Boy. That song became my own little personal anthem for a while. I couldn't tell you why. Sometimes songs do that, you know?

So I checked out The Hour of Bewilderbeast and wondered what rock I'd been living under for the past few years and why Badly Drawn Boy wasn't already a favourite. It wasn't long though...

There are a few songs on The Hour... that I wanted to post here and I've been sitting in front of this computer for quite a while in complete agony trying to figure out which is my favourite. Post, delete, post, delete, post, delete - it's enough to drive a girl nuts! A year or so ago when I did my 'top 100 songs of all time' series of posts I had The Shining in there. It's one of those beautiful but absolutely sad, sad songs. I don't really think it's indicative of the Badly Drawn Boy sound - (which is sort of a bit raw and unfinished) but if it's a cold grey day over your way, like it is here and you've got your heater on and are drinking a cup of English Breakfast tea then bottoms up old chap.

The Shining

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Everybody's Stalking (oh come on, you really thought it would be just one? On the album they come right after eachother and blend together - that's my excuse anyway).

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For the record I also would like to force you to listen to recommend: Above You Below me, Fall in a River, Once Around the Block, Disilluison, Silent Sigh


Sunday, June 11, 2006

The perfect eerie painting

It's been two weeks now and the fog hasn't totally lifted from Melbourne skies. Constantly it hangs low over the freeway, in the valleys or over the bay like a cold blanket. Everyone seems to be talking about its presence. Everyone is wondering why it's there and when it will leave us.

I find myself, this weekend, at a restaurant overlooking a beachside view of grey skies, over a blanket of grey fog, over grey still water. Absolutely. Still. Water. The scene is so unmoving that it looks like it's been painted. The background colours blend into eachother so well you can't even tell where the sea meets the sky - there is no horizon, just an expanse of grey/blue that meets and dissapears into the distance. I can hardly contain my mesmerised state, even with the excited chatter around me. It's like one of my dreams - a recurring one:

I'm standing on the shore of a fake beach - I know it's fake because the sand is a little too perfect and the sea is an expanse of still water - the skies are an even tone. It looks like a painting with people moving around in it. I am surrounded by people, children mostly and everything points to it being a happy time, except that it isn't for me. There is a silken eerie feeling about the place - like it's dead from the inside out - which of course it is. I feel it, but the other visitors to it's shores do not. Blissfully they play unawares, while I, stand sullen looking at the water with an ominous feeling hanging around my shoulders. I always wake before something horrible happens, but I always know it's around the corner.

And there it is before me, the scene: The perfect eerie painting.
Something's not right.

Saturday, June 10, 2006

psychic heart

You know you're getting on when your night ends early and you think "ohhh good" while slipping into your jammies and snuggling under your doona so you can watch bad TV. I'm pretty easily pleased most days. I'm very pathetic most days too.

I had lunch with my boss today. Or rather, I had lunch with a small group of work colleagues, one of which was my boss. Although I get along okay with her these days, as a general rule I am pretty well intimidated by my managers (always have, always will be probably). I get nervous when I have to consult with someone who effectively pays my wage and who I have to knock on a door and/or make an appointment to speak to. It's a power dichotomy/control issue. By witholding time and money you effectively gain power. There's also this other thing where I was brought up to believe that if someone was my boss, my teacher, a parent of a friend - whatever - they were to be regarded as superior to me and treated with respect. If I was ever caught giving sass to anyone in that list I was really ripped through. I remember once a report card came home that said I was 'chatty' in class or something to that effect (ie: no biggie) and when my parents saw that I was sat down read the riot act. Maybe I've really taken that general idea of 'superiority' on in my adult life though. Sure, I don't actually *believe* that these managers of mine are better than me, but I'm still very much that little girl that needs to please and be found pleasing.

We went out to celebrate the marriage of one of the girls from work. It was interesting: 4 divorced women, me and the bride. All of the women at work who have teenage/adult children are divorced actually. It's a bit scary. It was a wonderful lunch though. It wasn't awkward with the boss at all. I have been in many social situations with my boss but this was probably the most relaxed and candid. It was good to see a different side to her.

After that I met up with FashionCousin. We went and saw The da Vinci Code. It was a tad long for my liking. The subject matter should have been good enough to sustain the length of the movie but something went wrong and that last hour really dragged when it shouldn't have. Ritchie Cunningham fucked up somewhere along the line me thinks. But the movie did bring up an interesting question:

If faced with the situation of having to procreate to save the world who would I rather do it with - The blonde albino monk guy or the blonde evil guy from The Karate Kid movies? Either way you're getting an arsehole. I mean, at first glance I'd probably go the blonde evil karate guy but geez..he was mean and annoying - whereas albino monk wasn't annoying, just a psychopath.

Tough one.

On the way out from the cinema FashionCousin and I were walking to our car when this group of guys started following us and whispering to eachother and pointing at us etc. We practically had to run to the car (we were skipping along by this stage) and lock all the doors (they turned around and walked off when they saw this). You know what? Feeling unsafe and scared when you're walking 2 minutes from the cinema to your car really sucks. I shouldn't need a chaperone but somehow I feel like I *do* need one. I'm angry that there are groups of men out there who have malice intent towards women. I wonder if guys ever think about what it's like to be a woman walking to their car alone and scared for their lives? I don't know maybe they do? Boys, do you feel scared at walking to your car at night? Is it even an issue? I think it's really nice if guys walk girls to their cars, btw.

FashionCousin had some interesting news in that she went to see a psychic during the week who was apparently *right on the money*. This woman is blind but was able to touch photos and tell FC exactly what was happening in them. There was a lot of freaky stuff that came out. Somehow I have got FC to check on the situation and get me an appointment too (this woman doesn't advertise she's sort of a 'need to know' basis type psychic).

So, what should I ask?

Thursday, June 08, 2006


Ways in which I am a typical camp gay male.

Ru Paul is kind of funny.

I knew every bloody song in Connie And Carla (every fucking song and more..much, much more).

again. step push step step right kick. again. step push step step strong arms. again. step push sharp pivot touch kick, good, love it, right. that connects with turn turn right left hop step pivot step touch kick and down, you got it? going on and turn turn right left chest step *clap* 5, 6, 7, 8. turn turn right left chest step *clap* 5, 6, 7, 8, turn turn right left chest step, pivot step walk walk walk. the last part is: pivot step walk walk walk - going to the end and 5, 6, 7, 8! [best (gay) friends forever if you actually know this sequence].

I like disco (yes, seriously).

Judy Garland, Bette Midler and Cher are all faaaaabulous, darlings.

John Waters is God (so is JP Gaultier)

oooohh Madonna!!!!!!!

penises are a-ok with me.

Will and Grace? Yes please.

When I talk there are a lot of hand movements involved.

oooh, those are pretty shoes!

I'm a tad melodramatic.

There should be more gay male sex on television/movies. Gay male sex is hot.

I am all for gay couples having children. Amen!

Broadway is my Mecca

Mantra: Never leave the house without mascara on.

Mantra: a stylish shirt never let a man down...unlike other men.

hm...I wonder what Britney Spears is doing?

hair be gone!

ewwww, no I'm not getting my hands dirty!

Ways in which I'm a (stereo)typical lesbian

I've read Andrea Dworkin. oh yes.

Go Fish? Great movie.

Dr Martin boots were once my shoe of choice (and comfy..and highly effective when kicking men in the shins).

Faced with 20 minutes extra sleep or 20 extra minutes in front of the mirror..I'll pick the sleep thanks.

Sperm doners are a-ok with me.

Vaginas are kind of cool.

Prisoner Cell Block H: world's greatest show!

hair?...I'll get to it later..

Like the Way I Do by Melissa Etheridge is an awesome song.

When I was a young girl like normal girls do. I looked to a woman's love to help get me through. I never needed anymore than a feminine touch. I hated the thought of kissing a man, it really was too much. I did not drink I did not smoke. I did not say goddamn. I was a polite I was sensitive before I loved a man. My family, they were proud of me. They were proud of what I am, but then along came Lester and my tale of woe began... I spent my last 10 dollars on birth contorl and beer. My life was so much simpler when I was sober and queer, but the love of a strong hairy man has turned my head I fear and made me spend my last 10 bucks on birth control and beer [best (lesbian) friends forever if you know this song]

sometimes tracky dacks and a baggy top are okay.

motorbikes are cool.

Ways in which I am a typical dumb girl

ohh, the latest issue of Vogue is out!

oooooooo, handbag!

oooo, I carry my whole life around with me in my handbag!


I giggle a lot.

I flick and twirl my hair and swing my legs when sitting.

America's Next Top Model is a really good show (Australia's Next top Model is better).

Light a fire? hahahahahahaha, oh please.

change a tyre? hahahahhahahhaha, no really - you can't be serious!

oops, locked my keys in the car again!

Um let's just turn the Map around so we can see where we're going, okay?

Um..how does this (piece of basic technological equip.) work?

Bitching and gossiping is a valid pasttime dammit!

..I wonder what Britany Spears is doing?

oooo, those are pretty shoes.

Tori Amos and Kate Bush - yes please.

Why do men like football so much? They are soooo boring!

I don't drive a manual - no Sir.

You picked those flowers yourself? How romantic! (smiles girlishly)

I need some chocolate. I need some chocolate NOW!

oh my god, was that a spider? A SPIDER? Kill it! Kill it! ARRggghhhhhhh!!

Ways in which I'm a typical dumb guy

No, I know where I'm going. I don't need to ask anyone! No, we'll just go through this little patch of dry land first. The Nullabor? nooo, this ain't the Nullabor. We'll get to the next town and then you'll see.

In times of desperation have resorted to the sniff test on clothes.

DVDs are cool.

ooooo Mac has brought something new out.

I want to drive a manual but only if a guy teaches me. Sorry, I don't want to learn from no damn chicks. Chicks don't know how to drive.

Girls are sooo dumb.

oooo World Cup!


monosyllibic responses are an acceptable form of communication before 9am and after a hard day at work.

why do people keep talking to me?

Married with Children? Fucking hilarious!

breasts are cool.

I know how to put the air in my tyres.

What am I thinking? lalalalalalalalala (something perverted) lalalalalalala (something else perverted).

Bunnings Warehouse is the coolest store ever.

Hammers are awesome.

Let's crank up the Nine Inch Nails and Tool! Yeah!

Ways in which I am a typical consumer capitalist dictator

ooh something new, I must have it!

People are sheep. baaaaa.

I've got an ipod.

I psychopathically kill women and work on Wall street (okay, not really).

Amazon.com is my God.

I'll just get a new one if it breaks.

I rarely look at the price..even though I probably can't afford it.

The US has the coolest new stuff!

Money is important it will pretty get you 90% of what you want - the other 10% can be forgotten by consuming expensive party drugs.

You will follow and do exactly as I say. What? You dare defy me? Off with your head!

America has good TV. I support good TV.

Ways in which I'm a typical dirty hippy

Is that a BMW? Keys out fellas (okay, I would never actually do it, but I have evil thoughts about keying fancy schmancy cars).

Is that a SUV on a city road that's never been driven in the outback? Fuel is not renewable and you use more per km than anyone else. Shame!

Money is the root of all evil.

why can't we just all get along? No, really..why can't we? :P

Green Party. But they'll never win, you're wasting a vote! I don't care, they're the only ones with a heart.

Free health and education for all regardless of socio-economic status - not negotiable.

War is always wrong no matter how you rationalise it (you war mongering bastards).

and eye for and eye leaves us blind.

Nature is beautiful.

Uranium mining is not cool - please stop destroying the National Parks!

Globalism is evil and wrong.

You know what? My mobile phone doesn't have a camera on it, or a cool ring tone and it's started blacking out at innapropriate moments..and I really don't care.

Sometimes it would be nice if the US had a big fence around it like Willy Wonka's Chocolate factory. Nothing goes in..nothing comes out (10 day amnesty where all the cooler people can come out and live somewhere normal).

The rain will wash my car, why should I?

I don't care how much money you have as long as you're a good person.

I'm a goddamn teacher!

Ways in which I am a typical daugther of immigrant parents

Never eaten baked beans, spaghetti, pasta sauce etc from a can/packet.

You want something to eat? Go out in the backyard and pick something idiot!

SBS is an everyday normal television channel.

Watched Eurovision even when it wasn't cool to make fun of the musical acts.

Was given many choices in life - you want this? (open palm) or this? (backhand).

"No you cannot go over to friend's houses for a sleepover, you have a bed at home!"

Outward bound? hahahahahahahahahahAHAHAHAHA

Vegetarians? hahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Have never watched a game of cricket! I don't even understand how the hell they score it (what's with all those fractions on the TV screen?).

First Car; 1982 Holden Commodore, V8 - white, red stripe. Yes, was challeneged at many a red light to go drag racing.

Never had just a cheese sandwhich for lunch when I was at school..

Ways in which I am typically true blue Oz

colloquialisms are everyday language, mate.

Goon bag pillows are comfy.

Roy & HG are God (but funnier).

I shed a tear when bouncer from Neighbours died.

Have yelled out rude and disgusting things at an AFL match.

Have sung "he's going home in the back of a divvy van" along with the crowd.

Dim Sims and meat pies? Who cares what's in 'em? They taste good and I don't wanna know anyway.

Pronounce australia; ostrayla. Pronounce Melbourne: Melbin.

I'm a happy little Vegemite!

BBQs are always good.

Bloody mozzies, hate 'em.

Do not ever take offence at the words: wanker and bloody.

Thongs are not undies - they are wanky shoes maaaaaaaaaaate!

So, you see. Typical is as typical does - except that typcially, typical isn't always so typcial when you look at the whole picture.

Wednesday, June 07, 2006

would you rather?

Sometimes I play the would you rather game, also related to the how low would you go? game. Both are particularly great on long car trips, but will do in any situation where cruel entertainment is preferred.

The object of the would you rather game is to present two worst scenario situations, one of which must be chosen as the one you'd rather do.

Would you rather eat 10 live hunstman spiders or never eat again?

Would you rather not be able to see or not be able to hear?

Would you rather be beautiful and dirt poor or ugly and filthy rich?

Would you rather have a sex change (irreversible) or have a sexual relationship with someone of a gender that didn't interest you sexually (ie: if you're straight you must have a gay relationship) for the rest of your life?

Would you rather have regular sex with someone who repulsed you or never have sex with the one person that totally turned you on (and no, you will never find anyone else that will turn you on apart from this one person!)?

Would you rather listen to the song "Who let the Dogs out?" every second, every day for the rest of your life (can't kill yourself) or change your name to rumplestiltskin (but you can never tell anyone it was a joke, you are always totally serious about it and you must always insist that everyone refer to you as Rumplestiltskin forever - no nicknames allowed)?

Would you rather work in a job you absolutely loathe with every fibre of your being but make good money or do a job you love and live on the poverty line?

Would you rather have diarrhea or constipation for 1 month (can't take any medication to ease the symptoms)?

Would you rather hit yourself in the head with a hammer or work all fucking day writing 4 curriculum statements for your school report and lose all the data and have to start from scratch again?

gee, I wonder..

Tuesday, June 06, 2006


11am (yes a time, you see, I have a feeling I will be editing this thing a lot today - read on to find out why).

I was able to rearrange my classes today so that I only had one class this morning and the rest of the day off to start my assessment and reporting. I don't have any more time release for the rest of the week so I'd better make the most of this one!

..I've just spend 1 hour cleaning the art room sink.
I used a corrosive spray that smells like the hairdressing salon (It had the word "BAM" on it to signify the grime going *BAM* as it dissapears I think). It had all these warnings on it like "DO NOT USE ON ALUMINIUM!!!!!!!!" (okay, it didn't have all those exclamation marks though). Jesus, what kind of spray doesnt work on alum? I didn't wear a mask and now I feel a bit sick. I hope I don't have chemical poisoning, that would suck. On the plus side, I have discovered that the tiles near the sink where I put my buckets (you know, the ones that got stolen at the begining of the year) are actually beige and not murky brown. Who'd have thunk it, huh? I feel very much like martha stewart, minus the felony charge (though, who knows? Perhaps in my future..).

Sometimes I get on little cleaning binges. Normally I am what might refer to as a slob or a piler and stacker (like making piles..never clean them up). But when I get hormonal or am avoiding doing something important or am doing some cleaning for someone else I get extremely tidy all of a sudden and will spend hours making everything pretty and clean. For instance, when I'm on staff room duty it pains me to see people put the flowery mugs with the white mugs. Why do people *do* that? Can't they see that the white mugs belong together and look nicer when they are all lined up prettily on the shelf? Why ruin the look kids!?! why?!

Anyway, the point is that I spent ONE HOUR cleaning ONE SINK!
Perhaps I should get round to this reporting thing...


Jesus, I've lost a whole pile of major assessment. How could this happen? I've searched everywhere?! Do I make it up? Do I pretend it never happened? What do I say to parents who want this precious child art back? I'm up shit creek.

Also, how do you make "drawing picture of self with texta" sound vaguely educational?


One comment done. good lord, what on earth have I been doing for the past 4 hours - let's break it down.

1 hour cleaning sink (v. important job)
1/2 hour coffee break with the teachers (one must not forget to be social)
1/2 hour lunch (perhaps I could have written while eating)
10 minutes looking for the approrpiate CD of soothing brain energising music to play - (v.important)
1 hour staring off into space, worrying about lost assessment and blogging (not in one go mind you. This was done in blocks of about 5 mins here and there).
15 minutes rearranging work desk so I can fit my lap top on it.

so, by my calculations that leaves me about 35 minutes of SOLID work I've done today so far. And what have I done? One prep comment.


Okay that is *it* enough of this bullshit of doing nothing but staring off into space and wondering whether my sink cleaning is adequate! I'm staying at school until all four main curriculum statements for my report are done. The first one only took 5.5 hours. I figure if I keep going I'll be finished by about 7am tomorrow, which gives me about enough time to set up for my first class. woo.


second curriculum statement done. I'm getting better at this - only 1.5 hours and had time to try and upload photos of the artwork for you to see as well but didn't work - I'll keep trying.


Done!! Now that I've done my statements I only have 421 reports to actually write. ayayaya...oh wait a minute.

11am (Next day)

somehow lost all data! Am almost beyond words :(

Monday, June 05, 2006

All I need...

It's been a - walking around while not being able to feel your feet, rushing for the heater in the staff room so you can stand there (pole position) and feel the warmth gravitate slowly up your legs, holding the coffee mug close to your cheeks so the steam slowly rises making your cold face blush and blowing into your hands and rubbing them - kind of day. The coldest I can remember for a while.

It was hard to see driving to work with the white fog settling low over the freeway.

I feel like I've been away forever instead of just a night away. Things feel like they do when the holidays are over and suddenly you're back at the salt mine again; hazy, unplanned and messy.

I've been out of it. I'm worried about reports - these ones are all new to me now, there's no falling back on the tried and tested methods this time. This is serious mum and I can't quite get my head around getting so many of them done in such a short amount of time. I need a plan (one that I'll follow). I need motivation, inspiration, time and energy. I guess I need that for a lot of things.

And now, Musical Monday. Initially I was going to post some gorgeous angelic Jeff Buckley - but decided against it in the end, if you'd still like to hear some of that go over and pay wdky a visit and you won't be dissapointed (click image). Instead: I've been in a bit of an Air: French Band, mood lately.

It used to be that I'd post my journal entries listening almost exclusively to AIR, it was just a habit I got into. I'm not sure why I started doing it but once I started it was difficult to stop. Then, I became a bit obsessive and started listening to them almost exclusively full stop - that went on for quite a while after I saw the movie The Virgin Suicides (for which they wrote the score). I fell absolutely and totally in love with that score. They are the perfect band to listen to if you want to block out the world yet still be able to think. I guess you could say that they are 'electronica' but I don't know if that does them total justice. They're melancholic, dreamy, a little bit lounge, a bit moody, a little bit 70s (moog) and sort of from out of this world. They've worked with many a great artist (including Beck, on one of my favourite tracks The Vagabond) and they're French (hence, the "french band" label).

After The Virgin Suicides an online pal mentioned the song La Femme D'Argent and how they thought I'd like it and that was it. That song did it. I bought Moon Safari and never looked back. Before this point I had never really been into any kind of atmospheric type music, and apart from trip hop I was strictly a guitar girl - not anymore. Moon Safari is probably one of my all time favourite albums - it's partly a concept album with the "space" theme.

Air is definintely an acquired taste. I've tried to convert friends to no avail and so I've decided that you're either an Air person or you're everybody else.

1) La Femme D'Argent - AIR

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2) All I Need - AIR (With Beth Hirsch on vocals)

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I highly recommend The Vagabond, Cherry Blossom Girl, Playground Love, Alone in Kyoto which are all very different to the above two songs but are amazing.

And there you have it a bit of fog and air.


Sunday, June 04, 2006

how to make a pre-wedding quilt

8 parts good girlfriends.

1 part discussion about whether hen's weekend is a sexist term - equal part discussion about whether calling it a women's weekend would mean we'd have to dance naked in the moonlight and make menstural blood paintings.

3 parts driving down to the peninsula with Kylie playing on volume 30 (1 part knowing all the words to Especially for You)

5 parts wine
1 part headache.

10 parts junk food (lots of chocolate, thank god).

3 parts interrogating the bride about her groom

3 parts advice giving
"this the part where we tell you about the evils of the one eyed snake"

1 part learning about the "truth" about childbirth (um...eww).

1 part locking ourselves out of the house so that the guy from next door had to come over with his paint spatula and screwdriver to help us out (and call us a bunch of 'silly women' and 'bloody city slickers' - which of course we are).

1 part realising that since I am a silly woman it would be most wise to look for a guy that has manly skills (like prying open a door using only a paint spatula and a screwdriver).

1 part getting there early (that *never* happens to me) and going down to the chilly beach and watching the sailboats bob up and down while reading the paper.

1 part contemplating nipple tassels and exactly how they work (and why).

1 part snuggling under warm blankets

5 parts absolutely ridiculous discussions..mostly started by me (see: nipple tassles)

1 part giving up my nice bed for a crappy one and not being able to get to sleep all night.

1 part really good steak at the local pub.

3 parts drunken games ending in arguments over who won which point.

1 part interesting discussion over whether it is okay for women to plan on having a baby by themselves - if it looks like there is no chance of guy turning up.

1 equal part interesting discussion over whether one should marry someone over pure friendship (ie: not love) - agreed by both parties- just so you can have a baby and is that preferable to doing it yourself? (one of the girls is seriously contemplating this at the moment).*

1 part awesome hot breakfast and discussion over morning coffee about whether men feel redundant during child birthing and what they must be thinking.

lay out squares so they fit.
present to bride with a pretty bow on top.

*what do you think about that?

Thursday, June 01, 2006

The utterly impossible girl.

When I was young I came across this book about a talking horse: Casey the Utterly Impossible Horse. My version had a blue front cover. Actually, it was about a young boy Mike who finds a talking horse stranded on a quiet street corner in suburbia and I think the horse talks "his boy" into taking him back to his house to stay. Mike convinces his family to keep the horse in the garage at least until it is claimed by someone. Everything is agreed to and Mike is excited except for the fact that the horse is kind of demanding. The horse wants sugar cubes, not boring old horse food and the horse wants striped pajamas and a floating balloon tied to its tail. The boy makes his sister sew the horse a pair of striped pajamas and the horse is only happy for a while before it starts demanding other things (like a birthday party). I can't remember clearly how it ends but boy did I love that book.

I used to look for horses in the neighbourhood a lot after I read that book. I wanted my own horse so badly. In fact I found one, one day. In the 80s things were less built up in suburbia and someone a couple of streets away kept a horse in their backyard. It was deep brown and looked friendly. It had a swishy tail and was big. I used to peek through a hole in the tall fence and watch it trott around the enclosed space. Sometimes it came close, but never close enough for me to pat it. I used wish it were mine. I'd ask for a horse every year for my birthday..and christmas but I never got one.

In our adventures digging up the back yard when we were little, bro and I used to find bits of old horse shoe. The area must have been farmland back in the day. Once we even found a whole horse shoe. It was huge and heavy. Mum cleaned it up a bit and we put it on the wall for good luck. Luck was always an important thing in our house.

I thought the horse behind the fence a few streets away could talk, just like Casey. In fact I fancied the idea that all things that weren't meant to talk could talk and that all things that weren't meant to move could move when I wasn't watching. I'd sit my toys down and try to convince them to share their secret lives with me but they never spilled the beans. I always thought the best bits of life happened when I wasn't watching and I suppose in a small way that still is a perception of mine now.

I dunno, I was just thinking about that and thought I might share.