Friday, December 29, 2006

dreams again

Last night I had a school anxiety dream. This is particularly strange because I've only been on holidays for a week and have not been thinking about school more than normal for a teacher. Usually I have school anxiety dreams for a week leading up to going back to work, not at the beginning of the holidays. Maybe there are underlying stresses that are playing havoc with my mind at the moment. God knows, Christmas is usually SUCH a relaxing time. pfe.

The dream involved me having to traffic all the grades to their respective classes. All the rooms were arranged so that you had to walk through one room to get to another. Despite reminding my 'grade' to be well behaved and quiet as they walked through the other classrooms, the grades that I was 'delivering' were always disruptive and behaving like idiots. No matter what I did, nothing seemed to be able to calm the kids down. At the end of that dream one of my ex-colleagues showed me her new classroom - for the world's messiest woman she had certainly cleaned up! It was immaculate. I stood there wondering how she had become so polished while I was having such a hard time being the "traffic warden". Then she presented to me her new pet dog. It was a Shitzu Maltese but scruffier looking. I went to pet it and it bared it's teeth but didn't growl. I petted it anyway but was wary of being bitten.

In the next dream I felt like I had a split personality. I was a man who was being accused of murdering 4 people. I was also all of the people being murdered, I was also the judge listening to the testimony and I was the impartial reporter on scene to relay the story. The dream actually started with a montage of the killings with flashes of newspaper headlines in-between each killing. Then I was the guy, pacing up and down a grey coloured room with only a long table in it. Each newspaper cut out (which I had also written) and headline of the killing were evenly spread out across the table. As I moved along the table towards each individual newspaper article, I was asked to explain to the judge (myself) how I had killed each person. In the dream, the murderer (me) was also a doctor. Each victim was a patient (me) who had come to the doctor (me) with pain in their muscles. I, the murderer doctor explained to the judge (me) that I was only trying to help each patient with their pain by administering a pain reliever by injection to the side of the head. As the judge I tried to think of only the facts without all the extra emotion I also happened to be feeling as the murderer. Then, as I was explaining how I did it, I became each patient living through the excruciating pain of having a needle put through the side of my head and feeling the poison travel through my muscles and veins and killing all my brain cells. I was in so much pain, I woke up.

In happier news today I made myself pancakes and I flipped them all by myself and they didn't stick to the pan and they didn't even burn! I may be a murderer in my own dreams but when it comes to breakfast foods, I rock.

*edit* I almost forgot. Yesterday I got a phone call from the psychic. She even called bro trying to get a hold of me - but didn't call other people who had also gone to see her (I know because I checked with other people). She's not even in the country! She said, I don't know when I'll be back but I'll see you when I do. That can't be good. Quite frankly, I'm shitting myself.

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Tuesday, December 26, 2006

questions I ask myself.

Is it wrong to get the Mexican Hat Dance song in your head every time you go out for Mexican food?

Is it wrong to not clean your car for a whole year?

Is it wrong to beat your 6 year old cousin at connect four and yell in your FACE, I WIN AGAIN?

Is it wrong to eat for 5 hours in one day?

Is it wrong to wish that Christmas would all soon be over so we can get back to normal (crappy) life?

Is it wrong to buy the soundtrack without seeing the movie?

Is it wrong to think about undie-wettingly hot sex when you're in the middle of Mass?

Is it wrong to stay in bed all day?

Is it wrong to have a shower and put your pjs BACK ON?

Is it wrong to eat pavlova for breakfast (for two days straight)?

Is it wrong to say no to all your friends just because you're "not up for it"?

Is it wrong to try to get through Christmas by drinking as much wine as possible without (hopefully) appearing like a lush?

Is it wrong to be all happy because it's raining on Christmas day and "not like summer at all"?

Is it wrong to have a conversation with someone and rather than concentrating on what they're saying be thinking I'm wearing pink polka dot french knickers with a black lacy trim and I bet you're not, neh neh?


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Sunday, December 24, 2006

let it snow!! um..

Ahhh, Christmas - full of alcohol-laden cheer and little children squealing with glee because they get to sit on the lap of a man with a big sack who offers them candy. Whatever happened to "stranger danger" I wonder? Anyway the year has been a very interesting one. I've...okay it's been as boring as fuck. I became an art teacher, made a movie, created a mural, piss farted around, reconfirmed that yes I am in my LATE TWENTIES (no going back), piss farted around some more, started looking for a house (but realised that being a singleton afforded me no joy in this matter), um...then I think I piss farted around even more and then I got sad. Wow, I sure am one of those doers - how on earth did I keep a blog and update nearly every day with so little going on? Will 2007 be more of the same? Probably. Perhaps I should get you guys to write me a 'to do' list or something to keep me busy. Obviously, I need one.

Anyway, I shall finish off by wishing all those who read/comment (and the one lurker) a Merry Christmas (or other assorted holiday - yes, satanists you too deserve good cheer). And at the risk of sounding like a complete sap I want to say thanks for being my friends. You are much, much more than electronic blips on the computer screen to me - and are sometimes even more real than the friends I have in what I term the reality zone (overrated).

Now every year I have a Christmas message - but this year I couldn't decide - so I'm going to have two. One is an all time favourite from artist Anne Taintor. It's an apt message for me in 2006 - it's exactly how I feel - featured at the beginning of the post. The other is recycled from a card bro gave me a few years ago - I still find it HILARIOUS and absolutely true.

Oh come on, you KNOW you agree :P

And just in case I don't have time. I have a lot of favourite Christmas songs. One of my all time favourites is Have yourself a Merry Little Christmas - Judy Garland (bless!) but if I play it I know I'll cry so I'm not going to, this year. Instead one from my childhood - Santa Baby - Marilyn Monroe. I used to have the Madonna version on tape somewhere and played it a bazillion times until even I got sick of it (I imagine bro wasn't that impressed either). I tried to put the cassette tape into the computer but it wouldn't go! - anyway if I can't get Mads to play for ya, then Maz will have to do:

Santa Baby - Marilyn Monroe

(and count yourselves lucky because it was going to be Feliz Navidad by Boney M - don't think I'm not playing it right now, because I am!)

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Thursday, December 21, 2006

sad sack gets a friend.

In teacher-land the end of the year is always a bitch. There's a lot of stuff to do. Usually, I have my grade of little minions to do all my dirty work for me but being an art teacher means that I don't really have a grade to boss around so all the dirty work that needs to be done at the end of the year (cleaning, sorting, stacking, distributing) gets done by only one person - me. Not only do I feel like crap, as evidenced by my generally sad sack nature of late but after the last couple of days of full on cleaning I really look like crap too. We're talking paint on nose and hair sticking up on end - kind of crap. Nice.

On the plus side - I've spent less time wallowing and more time singing along to the Valley Girl soundtrack while I drag heavy boxes from one end of the AR to the other. I think I've pulled some kind of muscle in my back though because it hurts to walk at the moment - that can't be good.

Everyone has been in a typically mean mood at school. Teachers are stressed because there's a lot of stuff to clean up - if you start too early then parents start complaining that 'quality learning isn't happening' - but if you leave it too late then you're left with absolute chaos in your classroom right up until the end of school... Hence the moodiness of teachers. The specialist teachers however are less stressed about it all - because we've had the last two days to ourselves without classes (thank god).

M (the PE teacher) and I have been having many heart to hearts lately - this is mostly because she's noticed that I've been a bit withdrawn lately. She's really a wonderful person and I adore her - but she also happens to be my exact opposite (she is peppy, lovely and always excited and positive about life and dancing in the corridors (literally) - while I am cynical, inquisitive and thoughtful). We seem to compliment each other quite well though because even though we are different we both share the common bond of freakdom. Yes, we are both quirky and silly in our own different ways - and to celebrate this we are planning on catching up in the holidays to see an anime exhibition at the gallery and other assorted stuff.

We have completely different approaches to things though and mainly this boils down to religion. Now I grew up in a hardcore religious household - while my father wasn't too fussed about it - my mother has always been God's cheerleader. In the Catholic church God's cheerleaders are less "rah rah sis boom bah" and more "the hand of God will strike you down to hell if you touch yourself in the sad place". I must be going to hell but at least my sad place is actually quite happy, thanks.

M, however isn't a catholic - she is a pentecostal. I think the pentecostal is the arch enemy of my personality. I'm not really a religious person but if I was I'd be more your sit around and contemplate the world type person - not really a cheerleader for Jesus - though it does sort of fascinate me. So when M invited me to her church I laughed and told her that I would go crazy in her church and want to kill everyone and um, thanks but no thanks. Then I said that Jesus only loves the little children anyway so neh (I can't resist, sorry). She laughed her head off and denied that totally, but do you think I went too far with the "neh" bit? Do you get offended when people make jokes about God? I'm always making fun of God - is it that big a deal? I actually don't try to offend people in a serious manner or anything.

I don't think her religion is going to get in the way of our friendship except if she starts thinking that I'm in need of saving and pushing that on me (I doubt that though). Has anyone ever had that happen with a friend?

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Monday, December 18, 2006

The Comeback Kid

Saturday disappeared right along with me under the doona - where it was deep and warm and a bit womb-like. The official excuse was 'hangover' and I had that - sure - a fucking bad one, but it wasn't a funny kind of hangover where you know you're recovering from a good night out. It was a horrible, restless, gut-wrenching kind of hangover where you feel like shit not only physically but also somewhere in your heart too. I didn't quite intend to spend the whole day in bed but somehow every time I peeked shyly out from under the covers it'd be all too much and I'd roll over again and have another little chat with morpheus and my pillow. Morpheus answered in true bastardly style - as usual. A dream about a haunted dress and a man who approached me for a friendly hug but squeezed me tight enough to take my breath away and then followed that up by pressing his knuckles so hard into my spine I actually awoke with a yelp!

Quite frankly folks, I feel like crap and I don't know what to do to about it. I agree with all those suggestions like "just force yourself to go out and be with people" but look, it's not going to happen. I feel like an understudy in The Hours - I'm the crap teacher who suffers unrequited love, has people die on them and finds out she isn't quite good enough for anyone or anything. Not even a leading lady in my own movie! A bit melodramatic? Oh yes, I know, I know! How do I go a little less Virginia Woolf and a lot more Wonder Woman? I'm usually one for the cynical approach to all things, but I can't this time. I'm being utterly sincere with myself and while it may not be the worst I've ever felt - it's close.

Top that with 7 hours of Christmas shopping only to realise I've forgotten one present! Then the bleeding foot (tan bark + cute sandals = ow), then the whole 1ltr bottle of varnish I spilled all down my outfit today (including on to cute new sandals) - yes a whole bottle aaaaaaand the mysterious rash under my breast. Obviously I rock.

I can't even fathom doing a Musical Monday today. I should have asked one of you to guest blog it. Any takers? - There's still a few hours of Monday left in the sand glass.


Tuesday, December 12, 2006

random boring stuff.

* Last night while fiddling with the ipod and the computer I somehow managed to delete the whole of iTunes and my thousands of songs with it. Only I, oh great repellent of all things technological would be able to do that without actually knowing what I did wrong. I'm absolutely devastated about it - that's all. I am well and truly ready for 2006 to be over.

* The other day I pampered myself with a facial at the spa. After the girl left I swung myself off the bed and fell promptly on my face on to hardwood polished floorboards. I just lay there stunned for a second wondering how on earth I lost my footing over something I've been doing every day for my whole life. Getting out of bed is certainly a no brainer, right? I gracefully (ha!) pulled my towel back up around me and tried to get up but my legs fell under me another time and I found myself kissing the floor again. The girl came rushing in to find me on the floor looking flustered and confused (and okay, I was also laughing my head off) and trying not to flash her my boobs (unsuccessful). After a few minutes I was able to get up and make my way to the counter on wobbly feeling legs. I have no idea what happened, but it was a bit scary. I hope I'm not dying, (I haven't even married Clive Owen yet!). I don't want to think about it - but my knee still hurts.

* I got a lovely card and chrissie present from a student today. I didn't even know art teachers got presents! I don't think the last one did. It was a thermal coffee mug (but not a bogan one - a nice one!). I am famous for having about 7 running cups of coffee going in the Art Room - the coffee always gets cold before I have a chance to finish drinking it all so, I just go get myself a new one without returning the old one. After a while the staffroom runs out and I have to get my little minions (I mean students) to run my cups to the staffroom with strict instructions not to tell anyone from where the cups came. Anyway, cool present. Someone has obviously been paying attention in class. heh.

* One of my favourite parents from the school stopped me as I was walking across the quadrangle to tell me how she was remembering all the lovely things about me teaching her son when he was in grade 2! We had a nice time reminiscing for a while before her son came up to join us. He's one of those kids that when I look at him I see what he's going to be like as a man. A heart of gold, a giving person, a bit cheaky and a good friend to people who aren't even in his social circle! If you know any 10ish year old girls, boy do I have a set up for you 10 years from now. This kid is a CATCH, get in early!

* I'm really trying to get over the melancholy by watching silly movies and listening to happy songs on the ipod (sob). Yesterday Austin Powers but today I will not stray to Trust nope...no...will not go there, can't do that to myself...oh bugger it!

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Monday, December 11, 2006


We're feeling the effects of the fires blazing in the North East of Victoria through the distinct smell of smoke in the air and haze blocking view of building and tree tops in Melbourne. You know things are bad when you can smell the burn of bushland a few hours north in the heart of the city. The land is ripe for burning - not just Victoria, everywhere really.

Everyone is talking about the heat..or not talking at all because it's too much effort - escaping to the smokey beaches, or smokey backyard pools, or anywhere that has air conditioning. I'm thinking about the people in thick of it - making decisions about whether to evacuate or not. Is a house just a house, or is it more than that? I don't know - I'm reminded of Ash Wednesday and how smokey the city was then. I hope the cool change brings some relief for the fire fighters.

My Musical Monday today has no back story, it has no big meaning in my life. It's just a song I like and hell, I first heard it on a television commercial! So kill me for being so pedestrian but hey - I like it, and it's perfect for this little mood I'm going through. I hope you like it too. It's sweet and just a little bit on the sad side.

Jose Gonzales - Heartbeats

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Sunday, December 10, 2006

pussy something something

Casino Royale = I give it a 6.5 (maybe a 7)
Daniel Craig as Bond = I give him 9 (minus one for the pout)
Bond girl cleavages = 11 out of 10

The new Bond guy Daniel Craig shits all over Pierce Brosnan, who I thought had the sex appeal of a soiled nappy but millions of women would disagree with me on that, I know. Anyway, the new Bond film was good and probably mostly only limited by the conventions of the genre anyway. Not the spy film genre - the Bond film genre, which I'm not sure is actually an established genre, but if it isn't it probably should be.

Ridiculously disfigured bad guy - check.
ethnic, hard done by bond girl - check.
tux - check
martini joke - check.
smart women are hot - check.
smart women are usually secretly out to get you (lesson learned Bond!) - check.
girls with dumb names - check.
action scenes where you can't actually follow who's punching who - check.
laughable if it wasn't so cruel torture scene - check.
multiple cleavage scenes - check (this actually turned me on more than Bond himself).
Gorgeous European landscape - check.
Bloodied shirt, needs a shirt change - check.

It definitely kept me entertained anyway. I'm not one for men in suits - it does nothing for me - but god love a man in a crisp tux. Daniel Craig was suitably sultry (if not a little pouty - is that natural?), arrogant and built like a tank. Perfect really. I was rather appalled by the torture scene yet for me the ultimate torture scene was that of -Some Guy- being dipped slowly into a tank of HUNGRY SHARKS in Licence to Kill. I don't know who the hell came up with that but my god it is GOLD!

My enjoyment of the film was hampered however by the popcorn munching FREAK sitting next to me, who just WOULD NOT STOP for a breath. He also kept rubbing his hairy arm against mine every time he reached into the box (we're talking elbow sticking right out here). Even before the film started his girlfriend proclaimed that she was crying because the trailer for the new Will Smith movie was soooo sad. The popcorn freak answered in typical boy style - oh...uh...um....really? ahh. haha. I guess though at least I wasn't sitting where my friend was, who had to contend with the 'family of talkers'. You know the type - running commentary. lol. I love the movies.

Anyway, back to Bond, I do have a torture related question: If someone was to be whipped and bashed repeatedly with a knotted heavy rope directly onto their scrotum wouldn't they (balls) be damaged beyond repair? I know some men have likened marriage to being hit forcefully in the balls with a knotted up rope but surely actually having it done to you in a torture situation by another man would end in a physical castration of some kind, no? Are there any doctors out there who can clear this up? Can a man ever recover from this? Can Bond ever recover?

PS: Pancakes. The trial run was a bit scary so today...

me: I have a confession
*#1, F, S do a three way glance*
me: I can't actually flip pancakes. I've made the batter..but me and raw flame is bad
F: ohhhh come on M, that's crap!
me: I need one of you domesticated freaks to do it!!
F: well...
#1: no way, you're going to do it. I'll stand by and talk you through it.
me: ohhhh kaaaaaay, I warned you!
*#1 talking me through it, things looking good for the first pancake*
me: I feel like the special ed kid that finally got something right.
#1: you're such a good girl! yes you are!!
me: shuddup!! ...but that patronising voice does secretly makes me smile on the inside
#1: ok now the second one!
*second one a disaster*
me: #1!!! You took your eyes off me for a second and you see what happens? I need constant supervision!
#1: Don't worry I'm watching you now.
*third pancake folds over and is stuck, I try to unstick it with my utensil but it rips in half. #1, F and S laughing their heads off.*
me: waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!!
#1: oh my god, just give it to me!!
me: :)

And THAT folks, is how it's done!

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Friday, December 08, 2006

Thinking about..

I've been a little melancholy and thoughtful lately.
Thinking about another Christmas without my dad. The ones he was around for just a dusty memory now anyway.
Thinking about next year in the art room.
Thinking about taking down the art work and cleaning up this mess.
Thinking about how much of a slut Blanche from The Golden Girls is.
Thinking about whether you guys are christmas people or not.
Thinking about getting a hair cut.
..maybe not.
Thinking about going away.
Thinking that I'm scared going away alone.
Thinking about sleeping.
Thinking about taking up an instrument again.
Thinking about all that christmas shopping I haven't done.
Thinking about that breakfast I'm supposed to be hosting on Sunday. How do you make pancakes so they don't stick to the pan anyways?
Thinking I want a hug. Not a shitty weak one, a really good strong one.
Thinking that tears don't solve much.
Thinking about taking that life drawing class.
Thinking I would definitely start laughing at an inappropriate moment during it.
Thinking about the cicadas already singing outside.
Thinking that it feels like a Wednesday, not a Friday.
Thinking that it's Friday and a drink would be good.
Thinking about that txt message last night and now nice some people are.
Thinking about New Year - what do I really *want* to do?
Thinking about how life sometimes offers windows of opportunity and sometimes not.
Thinking about the media centre.
Thinking about politics.
Thinking about how all my clothes are painty.
Thinking about whether my desires are as worthy as other people's desires.
Thinking about how the new office assistant is a little scary.
I've been thinking a hell of a lot about being vomity and chalky.
Trying so desperately not to think about it.
...and failing
Thinking that maybe I should be doing stuff instead of thinking all the time.

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Thursday, December 07, 2006

Damned Whores and Fashion Police

Why is it that women in parliament are always attacked for the way they look and the men aren't? John Howard, in terms of looks, is a LAUGH RIOT. I don't know why Parliament Question Time isn't our top comedy show. Those eyebrows! The stupid grin. The way he carries himself. But are there whole articles dedicated to it? Does it make the front page? No. Julia Gillard however, 10 seconds into the job is being attacked left, right and centre for not being stylish enough. Welcome to the 21st century girls.

The opinion piece click for opinion piece written in the Herald Sun makes a point of saying that in this day and age women cannot afford to leave themselves wide open to personal attack by being anything less than perfectly styled. Here's an interesting quote:

Of course, you will never appeal to everyone but the reality is your misfortune is to be 40-something in an era when 40-something women are forbidden to be complacent about their looks.

Meanwhile Gillard herself argues that in her reply

"I think the Australian people are pretty smart and pretty wise and they know that whether or not someone's got the capacity to make a contribution to the future of this nation is about what they say, how they think and what they believe in and I'll seek to be judged on those."

I had this conversation with E many times whose personal belief on girls at work is that if you've got it you need to flaunt it and if you don't then you need to learn how to get it. Why? Because
1) men at the top think with their dicks (actually they think that way in any capacity eh eh eh?)
2) the world is cruel to women who aren't hot.
The truth of the matter is that you could have the biggest neanderthal ever be the president of a company with his manner and poise never bought into question but you can bet that the only females he is surrounded by are token and impeccably groomed.

So what say you? Are women naive to think that they can be judged on their own merits? Is it a losing fight for a woman to want to be "herself" in politics and the work environment? Is "working it" simply a necessary part of being a career woman?

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Tuesday, December 05, 2006

vomit and chalk flavoured chip

I never talk about this kind of stuff so just ignore and move on if you're in shock. I happen to be stuck in a little love triangle at the moment. The person I like, doesn't like me, or rather he likes me only in that cursed way: as a friend. The girl he does like is this absolute angel of a person that I can't fault. Usually it can be nice to get through something like this when the other person is a real bitch. Then you can console yourself with the fact that at least you're a great person and they're not. That isn't the case in this circumstance.

She's as nice as pie. Sure, she's about as fucked up as me, but she's pretty and sweet and way cool. There are a few things about us that are alike - except she just has an extra...something that I don't. I can't not like her. She's ace. The thing is that she doesn't like him as more than a friend. I might be wrong about that and maybe in the future something will develop but at the moment she doesn't really know he exists. He's quite obviously smitten in a puppy dog-ish way with her and it breaks my heart to see him so...enthralled with someone who isn't me. Its not like he's trying to stab me in the heart or anything but that's what it feels like.

To use a crap analogy It's a case of me being sour cream and chives chips and she being salt and vinegar and hey maybe there are some guys in the world who like salt and vinegar and some guys who like sour cream and chives. Suffice to say, the guy who likes the chicken flavoured variety of chip wouldn't like either of us because we're too tangy but in this case this guy is obviously a salt and vinegar flavour kind of guy - or thinks he is. This is all part and parcel of being human so far, except that I'm getting the sinking feeling that maybe I'm not sour cream and chives chips at all. Maybe I'm vomit and chalk flavoured chips - the kind that no one likes or even wants kept in their pantry (just in case someone pops over unexpectedly). This kind of thing happens way too often for it to be a "bad luck, maybe next time" situation. There just must be something flawed in the recipe of me. Vomit and chalk flavoured chips are never going to be anyone's favourite chip and they're never even going to be bought by anyone either...well, maybe only as a joke. I'm beginning to wonder what is the point of there even being a vomit and chalk flavoured chip if it's not ever going to sell.

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Monday, December 04, 2006

dreams of you all through my head

I can't remember hearing Stairway to Heaven for the first time. It just seems like one of those songs I'd always known - like Happy Birthday or Hey Jude, but I do remember the first time I really heard Black Dog - and it lit a lightbulb in my head. Did I know of the song before really hearing it? Sure, but apart from knowing the song on a musical level there was a moment where I first really listened to it and I heard
that sex.

Last week I wrote about my non-relationship with metal and briefly mentioned Led Zep, but for me, Zep was never about metal. In a previous Musical Monday of mine I'd written about Nick Cave and how hearing his music opened my eyes to that primal sexual energy that rock music had. But I was younger then - Nick Cave brought up feelings that I didn't really know how to categorise but with Led Zeppelin there was no confusion about it. While Nick Cave was the black dog, dangerously tiptoeing that line between sex and violence - Led Zeppelin were and have always been, to me anyway, about the sex. I don't even think I really knew how the guitar could have been an extension of the penis until Jimmy Page came into my world. But after he did, the self indulgent (? depends who you ask I'm sure) guitar solos of men in rock bands made sense. If the guitar is the penis - then Led Zeppelin is the dirty throbbing sex that goes with it, no? I guess that's up to individual interpretation as well. The role of women, apart from as an 'object' for LZ is worrying to say the least but anyway.. In any case, whatever it is - it isn't vanilla.

The details of hearing the song, I suppose aren't really that important but anyway it was - Me. Lying on my bed. Listening to the oldies station - gold 104 before they became gold 104. 19 years old. Pants off (comeon, it was my room!). Sunday night, I think. They were doing a retrospective on the 70s and I was eagerly taping songs off the radio, which was one of my favourite things to do. The mixed tapes I had were always on high rotation on my walkman, which in turn went with me everywhere I went.

Since I was 12 that had always been the modus operandi anyway - me and my walkman. My hearing is shot these days - boy did I play it loud. I have always played my walkman at full blast - headphones never seemed to keep up with the constant 11 level I put them on. In fact the walkman itself could never withstand the pounding I'd give it and I went through heaps of them. They went on trips flying across the room, were constantly being dropped, roughly pulled apart and tapes shoved in, slammed shut and hit when they didn't work. I've had people balk at how loud I played that thing though - but I could never really explain to anyone in a way that they could understand that I just had to be inside the music. I never really listened to music loud on the stereo for all to hear - I have always listened to it where it belonged - loud, vibrating through the dark passage straight into my brain. I never got out of the habit - I still listen to it the same way - full blast - on the earphones. I can't see that ever changing - it's been a 16 year tradition.

But Black Dog was taping that night while me on my bed in my undies - just listened in wonderment and felt...it. I turned off the radio show after the song finished taping and listened to it a few more times before...err, bed. Then again on the walkman everyday on my way to uni. I still remember the order of the songs on that tape - Stairway to Heaven (as Judith Lucy mentioned tonight on "My Favourite Album" - would be happy not to hear this one ever again - talk about overrated!), Black Dog (LZ), Blitzkrieg Bop (The Ramones), I'm Bored (Iggy Pop), Paint It Black (The Rolling Stones), Road to Nowhere (Talking Heads)...after that it gets hazy. But it was that Black Dog that pushed me into listening to Whole Lotta Love and Dazed and Confused with new eyes too. That's what happens when you grow up - a re-appropriation of meaning from old to new - and I guess 19 is on that cusp of child/adult where your true identity is being formed under the confusion or angst or whatever it is that keeps you on the fence between nervous tension and complete apathy. I hated 19 - I miss 19 - nothing seems quite so new to me anymore.

Anyway, Black Dog is not my favourite Led Zeppelin song but it's a signpost anyway.

Black Dog - Led Zeppelin

And in case you had any doubt left here's something that explicitly spells it out.

Whole Lotta Love - Led Zeppelin

...incidentally I've been listening to L.Zep while doing my reports (no wonder I'm so behind). Years ago I would have thought that my teachers were listening to Patsy Biscoe or maybe a bit of John Denver while writing reports. How's about the crazy Art teacher listening to Led Zep, eh? Disturbing and wrong in too many ways to count.


Saturday, December 02, 2006

Bitter and twisted entry with a sweet ending

I've sort of avoided talking about the property thing lately. It's become a really depressing venture that has me asking why I am being punished just because I am single. It's like as if the world isn't already completely geared toward vomit worthy coupled activities (season of horror - Christmas - for the single person is on the horizon) but it also happens to be a financial horrorshow to buy on your own too. Are the Gods laughing at me meanly? I always think of "the Gods" like how they are in that old movie playing chess with our lives - what the hell was that movie called? Haw Haw my pathetic little social leper not only will you have no smooches to keep you warm at night but you will be doomed to never be able to be afford to buy a house AND eat at the same time. CHECK MATE! Maybe it's just because I am a teacher - I don't know, but it seems unfair anyway. I have no sympathy for you coupled up freaks living in your ivory towers. Exchange presents with love in your eyes - see if I care, I have my bottle of Absolut to cradle at night, and I'm not sharing.

Anyway, the world is a bit sigh worthy for me at the moment. I don't really hate couples. They're kind of cute and give me hope that the world isn't a festering pile of doggy do (that you have to pick up yourselves btw). It's just one thing to not be 'in love' and another to be punished financially for not being part of a twosome. One wage just doesn't cut it, folks - well not if you pretty much earn check out chick wages. To make matters worse my domain.com.au email alert had this article about buying a house by yourself "a guide". I thought it was a message from those chess playing Gods so I open it up all excited only to find some pearls of wisdom like
1) I can "get an tenant in"
2) remember you CAN get a 100% mortgage these days
3) It all depends on how much you earn - you COULD get a $400,000 dollar loan if you earn enough. (seriously this one made me laugh until I puked)
4) you'll need a backup plan because omg what happens if you lose your job or get sick? Heyyy, I thought this was supposed to be positive!
5) PLEASE get lenders insurance - who knows what will happen?
6) Husbands don't have to vouch for women to get a home loan on their own anymore - go girls you too can have a house!!

Oh goodie, I felt so empowered after reading that.

Anyway, today I was having lunch at Small Block, on Lygon and enjoying my steak and grated beetroot sandwich on toasted sourdough (yum) and looking our the window lamenting on the house dilemma when two things happened to make my day:

* A man (maybe early 30s), obviously maggoted (at 12pm), rolled up in his tank of a car - parked outside the cafe, got out of the car, stumbled across the road to the bottle shop, came out holding a single Carlton Cold, stumbled back over the road to his car muttering to himself the whole way - where he got in the car opened the bottle, put it between his legs, put on his seatbelt (thank god), undid his fly and took his fella out (no playing with it, just left it there). Then he proceeded to do a u-turn into oncoming traffic and drove off. Bless.

* I discovered the free Leunig Calendar in today's Age newspaper. Cartoonist and poet Michael Leunig is a Melbourne treasure and while I was flipping through the calendar I came across this little picture that made me smile. Those of you that have read this dumb journal for any length of time will, I think, get why it made me smile as I know there are a couple of you who read this that suffer the part-time insomniac affliction that I do who will get a little chuckle out of it.

Maybe finding the picture was a little message from those chess playing Gods. I really hope so. Maybe it's a message for you too - It's a goodie.

Maybe all this worry is just a bit of sardine on toast.

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