Monday, July 29, 2013

Sugar Water

Sometimes a song gets stuck in your head, you know how it is.  This one has been swanning around in there for about a week now and I'm not sure why.  I *know* I didn't hear it anywhere because, quite frankly this song is nowhere to be heard.  It just appeared one day like a disembodied birdie voice singing in my ear and has been nesting there ever since.  Perhaps it's the catchy la la la and the lullaby quality of the tune but I played it until I fell asleep last night and it worked a treat.  I've needed a lullaby lately.

I know next to nothing about Cibo Matto.  I've come across a few of their songs but none I like so much as Sugar Water.  I never, never, never play it only once.  Never.  I first came upon it accidentally when seeing the video clip on Rage TV and loved it at first glance.  Love does happen at first sight... well in the music world anyway - even if it is your ears doing the viewing (though I suppose the line is blurred with video clips these days).  I can't think of anything I dislike about the song - even the slightly ESLness of the lyrics is a joy.  The lyric A woman in the Moon is singing to the Earth promotes very evocative imagery to me and after hearing the song I'm often left wondering why or who or what that is and why indeed Cibo Matto have taken the pains to include that particular line in there.

One of my favourite things about the song is the video clip and I was remiss not to include it in my favourite video clips of all time post because it truly is one of my favourites.  I would have seen the clip dozens of times but I still can't quite figure it out in my head.  It's supposed to be a bit surreal, I get that much but things get hazy with the mailing of the letter and the writing on the window.

Come to think of it I probably like not knowing.  Some riddles don't need to be figured out.

Sugar Water - Cibo Matto

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Sunday, July 28, 2013

Movie Review

I am the proud owner of a "Hoyts Reward Card",  that feckless piece of plastic that you hand over so that 19 year old popcorn machine operators can monitor the movies you watch.  Every so often you accumulate enough points to warrant a free popcorn from the Candy Bar or (joy!) a $10 movie.  Since going to the movies costs about $19 these days this is a quite welcome present.

The other day I decided to log on  to my account for the first time since I got the card. My first thought was "wow, I go to the movies a lot".  My second thought was "wow, I pay to see a lot of shitty movies".  Since I have a rather self-inflated perspective on what you think about the pop culture I consume I thought I might share them in a completely inept move review format for you.

The Heat

Okay, okay so it's not as funny, genuine or even as interesting as Bridesmaids.  Sorry folk, but that comedy ship has sailed.  Now that we've seen a bride defecating in the middle of a busy road the land of girl comedy has changed forever.  I like a buddy flick.  I like a female buddy flick and this one pushed a lot of boundaries and I like that about it.  It fell short on a lot of different levels and perhaps Bullock isn't quite up to the task of handling this kind of comedy and that unfortunately made the acting feel a little forced.  This wasn't the best thing I've ever seen but I laughed... like... a lot.

3.5 stars.

This Is The End

If the merit of cinema was based on rape jokes, pissing and vomit then this movie would win all the Academy Awards and the Grand Jury Prize at Sundance.  In the real world however the CGI Angels of Death in this POS film do a more believable job of conveying a semblance of real emotion than the actors do.

1 star.

The Internship

How can two guys who've had more barely legal pussy than Ron Jeremy and Bieber combined be so far removed from what the young hipsters are into?  Apparently they are hazy on what www.google.com actually does. Well boys, in case you didn't know Google is the search engine you use to find that mountain of midget porn you've been watching.  Uh huh.  That hole in the storyline aside it wasn't that bad.  It wasn't that good, but... it wasn't that bad.

2.5 stars.

Man of Steel

Henry Cavill is hot.  The movie is shite but he is hot.  That's all you need to know.

2 stars.

The Big Wedding

I'd actually forgotten I'd gone to see this THAT'S how forgettable this movie was.

2 stars.

Iron Man 3

It's visual eye candy.  Pity about the lack of an interesting and cohesive storyline though.  It had some funny/exciting moments but ultimately this movie falls down as the typical 3rd movie in an overcooked series that should have begun and ended at the supremely awesome #1.

3 stars.

Warm Bodies

I liked it.  Somehow that little kid from About a Boy (Nicholas Hoult) makes zombies seem sweet and lovely.  After all, they're really just misunderstood, socially awkward people stuck in the bodies of decaying brain eaters.  You just want him to stop being so Autistic and just get the girl (just like in any other Rom Com).  Cute movie, lots of funny bits - it doesn't take itself too seriously and neither should you.  Don't be dick and start comparing it to Shaun of the Dead and realising it comes up short - duhhhh - no, it's not even in the same league, get over it.  Just enjoy.

3.5 stars.


Brilliant!  Bravo!  Edge of your seat kind of storyline.  A movie that is not quite as it seems.  Very clever and will charm the pants off you.

4 stars.

A Good Day to Die Hard

I'd love to say it was so bad that it was good (that was my aim in seeing it) but I'd be lying.  It was so bad that I actually took out my phone and started playing Candy Crush Saga about a quarter way through it.  The whole movie was a WTF moment.  The "climax" takes place in Cernobyl.  Yes, THE Chernobyl.  Explosions happen a the power plant.  Seriously?  Yes, seriously.

I doubt they let any human anywhere near that place even 27 years on.  Meanwhile all the characters are parading about in t-shirts and swimming in the radio-active water.  At the same time (nuclear? Does it matter?) bombs are being detonated left, right and centre.  Surely someone should have let the costume department know about including 'protective suits' in the wardrobe.

They really should have all gotten the "Yippie Kay Oh" out of there, as I wish I had about 20 minutes in.

1 star.

The Incredible Burt Wonderstone


2 Stars.

And now for some non Hoyts movies...


Dark as hell but also incredibly touching (How?  Who the fuck knows, just go with it).  Loved it! What's his face can actually act... okay, the jury is still out on that but he did a fine job.    Fine job indeed.

4.5 stars.

Only God Forgives

Like watching the dream sequence from Twin Peaks without any of the other storyline.  David Lynch WISHES he could dream up something this fucked up.  Visually stunning and stylistically wonderful.  As always, the mood is in the silences and lack of dialogue, but WTF man?  I seriously felt like I was on shrooms watching it.  In fact I wish I'd had some shrooms.

2.5 stars.

The Great Gatsby

I loved this book.  I've loved the movies that came before.  I liked this movie.  All performances were excellent.  The direction was okay.  DiCraprio was really good as Gatsby.  I think it tried too hard to be "roaring twenties".  We get it.  The Great War was over and everyone was set to party.  No need to shove it in our faces Baz, I'm sure we can figure it out on our own, we're not retarded.

2.5 stars.

The Place Beyond the Pines

Really good.  Really, really, REALLY good.  The only thing I need to fault is Cianfrance slipping too much in with too much detail into a movie that already felt a little long.  Usually when people say that movies feel a little long they mean that it was boring but I don't mean that.  It wasn't boring AT ALL, it was brilliant, beautiful, shocking etc. but there were three generational stories here that all felt a little short changed in the transition of story lines - even though I can't think of how else you'd do it and give them all justice.  But now I'm nitpicking.  You'll love it.

4 stars.

So what have you seen lately?

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Friday, July 26, 2013

How Do I Love Thee, Let Me Count the Ways...

MVOR and I talked a lot about self-worth in our latest sitting. Clearly it's a reoccurring theme in my life and we bring it up a lot.  I'd spent a good many years (my whole life) tearing myself down and so I wonder if now I have to spend the same amount of time building myself up?  MVOR brought up me needing to enjoy the soup of my existence rather than looking at my life as a series of individual ingredients.  She didn't put it quite like that - being much more eloquent and poetic than I - but this is how I remember it:

Take everything that you are and put it all together, heat, stir, let it simmer - sometimes for hours - and then you have the soup of your life.  The soup is a dossier of the important bits that make up our person(a). If you think about what goes into your soup it can be quite humbling - perhaps it's the loss of a family member, the love you had for your pet dog, the wife who left you, the happiest marriage ever, the love in your heart for your child, the brother who failed to emotionally check in, abuse, love, joy, bullying, family holidays down by the lake, illness that stole people far too early, being heartbroken and those whose hearts you have toyed with recklessly - it's all there.  Whatever they are, good and bad, all the flavours contribute to the whole.  The soup ceases to be simply the sum of its parts once it has been cooked - it is no longer onion, cumin, celery etc, it's something completely different.

MVOR pointed out that I am picking apart ingredients and judging my whole 'soup' on one little bit.  Cumin tastes like absolute shite on its own, but in the soup it probably adds to the flavour.  I'm looking at the cumin and giving the whole soup a bad review based on that singular flavour only.  It's true that sometimes when you take a spoonful of the soup you might get a mouthful of chilli, or cumin or whatever and it causes you to splutter and fail to swallow but still - the soup is more than this mouthful.  We are more than the sum of our parts, even though the parts make the sum.  Does that make sense?

My soup is an series of ingredients which I have thus far refused to enjoy as a cohesive meal.  I've taken this rather negative perspective on my life instead (as best paraphrased by a conversation in the movie Clueless):

Cher: she's a full-on Monet 
Tai: What's a Monet?
Cher: It's like a painting, see? From far away, it's OK, but up close, it's a big old mess.

I see myself in the microcosm - the Monet up close and as the list of ingredients rather than the whole soup.   According to MVOR I should start looking at myself as the whole soup rather than the sum of the ingredients and if I find myself spluttering on a mouthful of cumin I need to reposition that as part of the whole rather than as a defining part of me - yes it exists, yes it's bad, yes it's part of my history and therefore part of my now but I am not just cumin.  I need to acknowledge and respect those parts of me that are not that great but in no way should I be judging the whole on the sum of it's parts.

Aaaand now I'm hungry.

*no cumin was harmed in the writing of this post.  Feel that perhaps I was a little too hard on it. It's really quite a nice spice.

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Tuesday, July 23, 2013

Public Versus Private

I've been thinking a lot about this blog and what the purpose of it is.

I wonder a lot if I should be locking it up and keeping it as a place to spew private and seedy bile only.  I toy with deleting all the non-musical posts and keeping it specific and I ponder living a life alongside a blog that has an identity such as "cooking blog" or "teacher tips".  Sometimes I have an overwhelming urge to just throw the address out to everyone I know and let them all feast upon me and then I wonder why I don't?

Clearly this is a public space - and yet it's so unbelievably private at the same time.  There are posts that are more private than others, of course, but some people (you) get to read them all - private or not they are there for you to read.  I've made the choice for them to be there.  So what am I hiding from those in my everyday life exactly?  What aspect of myself am I protecting by not being open?

This notion of private and public in the online world is very interesting to me - and not just because I'm questioning my role in it.  There are things that people who happen across this blog know about me that no one else knows and there are things that you will never know because they are part of my public profile (avatar? and now it is complete, the avatar is not only online).  I'm not sure which is more real, but often I think it's this person here - the one clicking at the keys right now... but perhaps not.  Maybe it's the person that attends parent/teacher meetings and lends a listening ear to a friend in need?  I especially wonder about my need to be noticed versus my need to feel private and protected and how that affects this public/private dichotomy of my identity.  I wonder if everyone or anyone else in the blog world feels like this too or if it's just me.

If I threw open the doors of this blog then what would it become?  Would it change?  Would I?  And is that a good thing?

Is your blog truly public?
How's that treating you?

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Sunday, July 21, 2013

If I Could Would You?

I'm a tourist when it comes to Alice in Chains.  I don't often seek them out but over the years I found myself accidentally encountering them on soundtracks, in clubs, on  the radio, while watching video clips etc. until I couldn't help but deny the obvious fact: They are brilliant. I can't help but be mesmerised by them.  Layne Staley has a voice to be believed.  I am a fan of screamers who can actually sing (Chris Cornell, Kat Bjelland etc.) and Layne was one of the best.

Alice in Chains definitely had a 'heavy' sound but there was something also very contemplative or melancholic in the strum of the string and the build up in many of their songs.  You can almost meditate to Rooster, for instance.

One of my favourite songs of theirs is also one of their best known: Would.

When I was a teen it was played on "alternative" radio and I can't remember loving it at first listen.  The song is a slow burn, or perhaps it was for me.  It took a while to love and by the time I did I couldn't imagine not ever loving it.  In fact, now can't imagine my personal musical history without this song in it. By the time we turned 18 and the friendship group graduated to going to pubs it always seemed to be the song that got everyone up on the dance floor.  I suppose this is indicative of the types of places we frequented (ie: dives) - grungy places where bands played and the music was so loud that you couldn't hear yourself think.  Let me make this clear; Would is NOT the kind of song one dances to but somehow we managed to. I listen to it now and wonder how we even moved to it.  I guess we were shitfaced and loved singing along while getting even more shitfaced.  I have a lot of very good memories with this song as the sole soundtrack.  It makes me smile to think of the mischief we all got up to.

What is it about this song?  I don't think I can quite articulate how the vocals bury somewhere in my sternum when I listen to it; hitting somewhere primal and deep.  Where does that voice come from?  Not this world I don't think. I'd put it in my top 100 songs of all time.

Would - Alice in Chains

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Vague Possibilities

Last night a friend asked me "if you had all the money in the world and all the things you were worried about were taken care of, what would you want to do with your life?".

I couldn't answer.
I had no idea.
I could hardly believe that I couldn't answer the question.

I have thought about this question a lot over my life.  We all have, haven't we?  If you won lotto and didn't have to worry about paying off the credit cards/mortgage/having to work at your job then what would you do?

The only thing I knew for certain was that I didn't want to answer to alarm clocks and or spend my time performing for a boss but didn't know exactly what kind of job that would be.  I knew I didn't want to work 5 days a week.  I knew I wanted to do something creative - but I couldn't pin point what form that creativity would take.  I knew I wanted to be happy but didn't know what would make me happy.

Talk about vague.

How much of a loser am I that I don't even know what I really want out of life?
I suppose people who know what they want have a better chance of getting it than people who have no fucking idea.

So much for my "I know" phase.

Are you specific about what you want out of life or like me do you wade the murky waters of vague possibilities?

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Thursday, July 18, 2013

The Thinker

I got called out on being the 'I know' girl the other day.  It's my go-to phrase: "I know".

I have this ability you see, and always have of just knowing things to be true.  I know if someone is going to be a right shit, even before I've met them properly.  I know and understand people's feelings often before they even realise them.  Sometimes I know how things will turn out.   I understand other people's emotional dramas.  I understand concepts, often before people even explain them fully (not maths *shudder*).  I guess I'm just perceptive.

I. Just. Know.

That is, to qualify this further, I am good at knowing things on an intellectual level.  I comprehend ideas and people very well.  It makes me a wonderful friend to have in your pocket.  I understand.  Yes truly I do.  When I was called out the other night on being the "I know girl" it was because I know nothing spiritually speaking.  I'm not talking about Jesus.  I mean as a base emotional knowing, I know nothing.

I guess that means that while I can be reflective, understanding, articulate and perceptive it rarely clicks over into a level so deep that knowing something changes my life.  I know for instance that I must live an authentic life, that is to honour my dreams, wishes and completely accept myself as I am.  However, despite knowing this, talking the talk and trying like buggery to live this way and thinking that I'm doing it right I'm still not.  I may even physically do things the exact same way as somebody else but still end up with a very different and unwanted outcome.  One can go to a million classes, a thousand doctors and many a positive talk seminar with the best of intentions but unless you are really able to be open it's just not going to work.  You see, I know this but clearly I don't or else positive things would be happening.

I've discovered that it's very hard for me to separate intellect from emotion.  I can think myself into or out of anything.  I am good at thinking.  I am a thinker and an philosopher.  I am also quite good at following instructions.  These skills get you nowhere outside of the classroom.  I am shite at the important stuff - that is at letting knowledge marinate so deep that it imbibes every cell and becomes the life I lead.  It's apparently not something you can learn through instruction - I've tried.

I'm frustrated about it because I don't know how else to be.
I know that I don't know and I don't know how I'm supposed to get to know.

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Wednesday, July 17, 2013


I bought a ticket to a play a while ago that has haunted me ever since I saw it.  It was called Constellations and it was produced by the MTC (as an an interpretation of a play by British playwright Nick Payne). The play tells the story(ies) of a couple but in a way that is not linear at all.  The whole play is one long piece of dialogue expertly ping-ponged (made up verb) between two actors on stage playing out different manifestations and realities of their life as a couple.   It brought up a lot of questions for me and the different realities of my own life.

If at any point, or at every point for that matter, we come to a fork in the road is the chance of us taking any of those branching pathways weighted the same as the other?  Is the homeless man homeless because he forgot to brush his hair one morning or ran the red light?  Can we at any point deviate and create a new life for ourselves regardless of what has come before?  Is there another, better version of us happening right now in this multi-verse?

I wonder a lot now about the Many-Worlds interpretation of Quantum Mechanics.  I am not a Scientist.  I am a dreamer who doesn't need or even want a theory to be proven true, the thought is enough for me.  Sometimes the thought itself is truth enough! This is the opposite of being a Scientist - a la people that forge their lives on proving theories.  I don't need proof.   In any case, I realise that Quantum Theory is riddled with, at best, uncertainty and at worst is an absolute lie.  I don't even know enough about it to make that statement properly but it's my blog and I'll pontificate if I want to.

Almost (...almost) certainly, you cannot have parallel lives existing simultaneously but certainly our actions and reactions do bring about certain responses in others and ourselves from which more action will take place.  That action helps to creates our future.  Even so, sometimes things happen that are a freak occurrence.  Sometimes life brings about things you cannot plan for and even the best possible response from you will not glean an equal and opposite reaction.  Or does it?  Perhaps all responses are simply 'meant to be'?  Perhaps it is as written and nothing more..which seems unlikely.  Or perhaps it's random and chaotic and nothing at all matters because we are just here to fuck, reproduce and die...but I can't believe that either.

If life is like a choose your own adventure and where at each point we come across a fork in the road, are the possible choices for us already written and we just pick the right path within a certain parameter or are all infinite possibilities at all times always open to all of us?

I wonder about the different forks in the road that I have encountered (I am old enough to know there have been a great many) and I wonder about who that 16 year old M turned into when she said yes that time when I actually said no?  I wonder about M who turned down the temporary teaching job she was offered and what she is doing now?  I wonder about M who actually stayed in London when I came back.  Who are these other Ms?  How many hundreds of thousands of manifestations and possibilities of her exist now and how many more are there to come?  What I wonder most of all is which of her is truly authentic and which of her am I (if any)?

I'm beginning to fear that the best manifestation of M disappeared somewhere down a fork in the road long, long ago and I lost her completely.

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Monday, July 15, 2013

Not My Place

I was going to do a music post that was me pressing shuffle and posting the first 5 songs that came up for laugh, but then I realised that it really wasn't going to work (for me).  There's only so many times that The Pina Colada song can come up before you are shamed to paralysis.  Okay I just admitted it, shame on me.

Anyway, the first song that came up was:

It's Not My Place (In The 9 to 5 World) - The Ramones

...which was a funny coincidence because I had *just* been thinking about how I'm one of those people that aren't built for the 9 to 5 workplace.  One could argue that teaching with all the holidays one gets and the fact that the kids leave at 3.30pm that it really isn't a 9 to 5 work place but if you are suggesting that it's somehow easier than working a regular office work shift then I'd invite you to come say that to my face.  We'd have... "words".   It's worse. Way worse.

Anyway, I like it when the ipod randomly acts like a personal psychic and quite frankly I find it often does.  In fact music often gives me exactly what I need when I need it, unfortunately more so than people ever have (or will?).

I was thinking though, that it really isn't my place to be in the rat race.  I'm not motivated by working up the rungs of the ladder.  I'm  not excited by extra challenges in the work I do.  I don't really want any extra money.  I don't want to work long hours.  I don't even want to work 5 days a week!  When us teachers went on the recent strike part of our strike conditions were to work a 38 hour week.  We didn't write reports.  We didn't have extra parent meetings.  We didn't have extra staff meetings.  Of course we STILL put in more than the 38 hour work week that we are supposedly paid a pittance for but we certainly did less.  When the discussions came up to go 'get back to normal' and get the shitty pay rise my hackles went up.  I would much rather work less.  I was happier not writing reports.  I was happier not having to "volunteer" to come in on my weekend to do unpaid extra.  I was more than happy to pack my bag at a reasonable hour and just leave.  I was happier just teaching and enjoying my grade than doing all the extra bullshit that goes along with teaching.

A single girl such as I has got to pay the bills.
It's not my place in the 9 to 5 world.
It's just not.
So what do I do?

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Thursday, July 11, 2013

Do You Want Whale Sperm With That?

 The truth is sometimes being young is less fun than being dead.

If that old adage "you are what you eat" holds any truth at all, then it must also be true that you are what you watch and listen to as well.   If I could go back to 2006 and redo that old blog post in the link there I'd add the movie Pump Up the Volume to the "Recipe of Me" list.  I'm not quite sure why I didn't include it in there in the first place.  I remember much of my teenage years was spent watching this movie while sighing every time Christian Slater spoke (as you do when you're about 15) and I did so, over and over, week after week until the tape literally broke.

I haven't got the movie on DVD (and clearly not on VHS either) but the other night I happened to find it randomly online and re-watched it for the first time in about 15 or so years and was delighted from opening scene to end credits.  I could still recite about 80% of it verbatim and it still rang true.  I'm many years out of my teens now and I'm amazed that I could still relate so willingly to these feelings of hurt, betrayal and injustice that are so fundamentally teenage.  It's a credit to the writing and direction but also perhaps speaks a lot of me and where I'm at during this time in my life.

I'm not sure whether this is true and FFS I can't be fucked researching it but PUTV feels like the first movie of its time to truly be a voice of the emergent Generation X especially in the face of teen cinema that had, (until that time) been thoughtful but also too "pretty" to really explore issues of how difficult it is to be young.  Pump Up the Volume isn't a pretty teen movie. Sure, Samantha Mathis is gorgeous and Christian Slater isn't exactly hard on the eye but when you compare it to the John Hughes movies that typified teen angst in the 80s it's like looking at two opposites.  PUTV is basically a big "fuck you" to the 80s and the Baby Boomers for that matter. It's Generation Xs first real voice, that is when they were still deciding whether they had a voice angry enough to be heard in the first place.

Were Generation X ever really heard I wonder?

Sure they were written about, notably by the brilliant Douglas Coupland and in numerous essays of the time.  Many songs and books and theories were pontificated (probably on the end of a joint) about Gen-X.  Certainly the Baby Boomers and (consequently) Yuppies complained about their lack of willpower, their disaffected attitude, their slacker tendencies, their over-educated cynicism and their moodiness but were they ever really heard?

A lot of what writer/director Allan Moyle examines in his movie Pump Up the Volume I think explains the fears and worries that affected Generation X before we moved the spotlight onto Gen Y and forgot there ever really was a problem.  Namely, control by large corporations over the way we live our lives, how money influences greed and corruption, that adults in positions of power are mostly untrustworthy, an inexplicable need to fuck shit up, a fear that society does not support humanity in humans, fear that our mental and physical well-being is being subverted by a machine running on corruption and greed, a feeling that perhaps anarchy is better than capitalism and of course a deep mistrust in government and all authority associated with it etc.

Let's fact it folk, aren't these the things we are still worried about?  Weren't the hippies worried about that before they turned into yuppies?  And if we aren't, why the hell not?  This is why the movie is still so relevant and why it still works.  These issues never went away in fact if anything they are more hopeless than ever, and Generation X, no matter now ineffective in changing the world they were had a bloody good point.  They may not have invented the plight or were the first to voice their concerns but they did take on these issues personally.  If we didn't listen then, why aren't we listening now?

What I love about Pump Up the Volume is the idea that idea that the voice is so powerful that it creates its own persona.  As a lowly teenager, main protagonist Mark is vulnerable; he is young and as we all know being young is hard and being young also means being powerless.  Young people who speak up or who are different are often beaten down by authority figures and of course since we are so afraid of 'otherness' by their peers too, but a voice can go anywhere and transcends cliques, class and race.  It can penetrate deep and reach out to a humanity that exists in commonality within us all.
I like the idea that a voice can just go somewhere uninvited and just kind of hang out like a dirty thought in a nice, clean mind. To me a thought is like a virus you know, it can just kill all the healthy thoughts and just take over. ~ DJ. Happy Harry Hard-On
So in the movie the voice does go uninvited into the psyche of this small town and creates a virus that causes an epidemic of thought and eventually anarchy and change in this small community and this makes me wonder, what it will take for us humans to do the same on a grander scale? While most of us humans step in time almost mindlessly to the job and the mortgage and hot sex (or endless supply of chocolate) there is a group of us who has been infected by the virus and is currently sitting very uneasily with it pulsating deep knowing that change must happen but not knowing how.

If Generation X were unheard or... ignored when they took it on then what will happen this time around?

I would be remiss to mention the fact that the soundtrack for Pump Up the Volume is just brilliant.  The released soundtrack is good but the actual soundtrack from the movie is some of the best music of its time.  Leonard Cohen, Sonic Youth, Concrete Blonde, Pixies, MC5, Beastie Boys, etc.

Here's one little gem by Richard Hell and the Voidoids.  Love Comes in Spurts.

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Tuesday, July 09, 2013

Fear and Loathing

I've never thought of myself as a particularly fearful person.  In fact, I think that as a child I was quite fearless, possibly outspoken, perhaps even obnoxious at times.  I was a leader and probably not all that benevolent either. I was moody and had a temper (have a temper?).  I do remember being shy though, uncertain when it came to friendships (did anybody actually like me?) and even running and hiding behind the couch when strangers came to visit.

I don't remember when the fear as I know it now really crept in.  Maybe it was always there, holding hands with my shyness and playing jump rope with my uncertainty.  Perhaps shyness and uncertainty stem from fears. I don't actually know if that is true but there are many ways in which it affects my life now.

MVOR talks a lot about my fears and where they come from.  There is a family history (hysteria, rather) that runs deep.  I don't think it's genetic but instead something seeded and nurtured.  I remember being a teenager and being so surprised when my friends' mothers would say "have a nice time" when they left the house.  As I exited the front door my mother would say something akin to "someone with a blood filled syringe may stab you with it.  I saw it on Hinch.  Be careful".  This is clearly not an environment that fosters self-confidence, love for your fellow human or being carefree is it?

Fear has stopped me from living my life in a fulfilling way.  That is a big statement to make but it's true.  I live in the sense that I am a functional member of society.  My fear doesn't stop me from having a job or paying the bills (hmph!).  I'm much too responsible to break the law in any kind of significant way and I'm too empathetic and mindful of others to ever really hurt any living thing.  I'm a good friend.  I go out.  I can share a laugh and I can speak to a room full of parents and teachers without losing too much sleep.  It's just that I'm not living my life in a way that is authentic or emotionally satisfying and that's the problem.

I'm afraid..
-to take a chance and apply for other, better jobs just in case the situation is worse than where I'm at.
-to go part time, in case I can't pay my bills.
-to go on a holiday alone.
-to put myself out there, love wise.
-(in fact), to put myself in situations where I can be rejected in any way.
-to go back to my place because I'm afraid my nose will start bleeding again and I'll be on my own.
-to be on my own.
-to make decisions - on some days any decision can become a crippling one.
-to insist on treatment that is right for and worthy of me.
-to speak my truth in case someone disagrees or ridicules me.
-to write.

(just the tip of the ice-berg, believe me).

I hide this fear well.  Most people I know have no idea I live with an anxiety that I can sometimes (most days) feel physically in the pit of my stomach.  Most people wouldn't have a clue how debilitating it is not to be able to acknowledge yourself as the instigator of your own life and make decisions.. and I suppose that is why I don't share this fact with others.

I suppose that's what it comes down to at the end of the day.  I'm the instigator of the fear and of the solution but somehow I ...just can't do it. I know the only person that can change the direction of my life is me but I also don't feel as though I'm in the drivers seat in my own car.

How do I take the wheel?

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Monday, July 08, 2013

Showering Question

Not quite sure if I have enough readers to attempt a Vox Pop but humour me if you happen to stumble upon this question while searching for err... "four clip fucking" for instance (whatever that is)...you know who you are).

But inquiring minds want to know the following...

When it comes to showering do you feel it is best to:
1. shower in the morning.
2. shower before bed at night.
3. shower before bed at night AND in the morning when you wake up.

My preferred option is #3 but guilt over using our precious water supplies stops me from actually doing this most of the time but I sleep better after having a nice shower and I cannot function in the morning without it.

Am I being unreasonable and excessive?

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Friday, July 05, 2013

Part 3.

Post-Op Day 29

Who knew that sneezing a couple of times would result in a blood bath of epic proportions all over the bedroom and bathroom?  Not me, that's for sure.

Nothing to see here, folk

There were a number of problems with this scenario.
1.  I was alone.
2.  I was in my rather see-through nightie and knew I would need to get to the hospital.

Have you ever tried to get dressed for the hospital while squeezing your nose so that the torrent of blood doesn't get over everything?  Well, it's hard.  I settled on the outfit at the top of the laundry pile (by settled on I mean grappled for); a fetching pair of tracky dacks that I had actually CUT the ends off (put it on inside out of course) and an old stained t-shirt.  Attractive.

Fashion forward.

Now that I'm dressed, we're off...

Oh hang on, we are not off.  How do I get there?  Who do I ring?  Where's the ice?  There is fucking blood, fucking everywhere Lady Macbeth.  Fuck.

By the time I had found the number of my ENT and tracked bloody footprints through the house looking for ice to suck on I was well and truly in the midst of a panic attack.  I was advised to head straight to Emergency.


The thing about being on your own, is that it makes "ongoingness" so much harder.  I realised how right I had been in my last entry.  However, being right doesn't make getting through an emergency any easier than being wrong.  In the end I phoned a friend and got there.


Dr. Wink-Dimples doesn't *do* the ER but his minion, Dr. Dan does. Upon meeting Dr. Dan for the first time I could tell that he didn't like my outfit.  How could I tell?  Oh, he told me.

What do you mean you didn't have time to co-ordinate?

Dr Dan couldn't really tell me why I had started bleeding at an unheard of ONE MONTH after the operation. He plugged it up as best he could and made me stay overnight in the hospital.

plug it up.  plug it up.

I didn't really have any PJs with me so I just lay down and tried to sleep but with Mr Snore in the next cubicle, and Mrs Lights On All Night across from me it wasn't looking good for the old shut eye.  I Facebooked (is this a verb yet?), I read trashy gossip on my iphone, I wrote notes on yellow post-its about why I am such a douche... I prayed it wouldn't start bleeding again.  It was 4am before I actually fell into a restless asleep.

Can't think why I can't sleep.

I was woken by the sound of a Dr. in the next cubicle flirting with all the nurses.  I knew it wasn't Dr. Dan because there is no way that Dr. Dan was that socially adept, but Dr. Love was close to making me sick.  The patient actually sounded quite ill and I felt sorry for him having to listen to Dr. Love making corny jokes as the two young pretties giggled around him (actually, you know they weren't jokes.  He was really unfunny).  Keep it above board people, please!

He's the one they call Dr. Feelgood.

Dr. Dan paid me a visit a few minutes later and told me not to blow my nose.  Hang on Dr., wait.  For how long don't I blow my nose?  How long?  Dr?   Dr...?


I looked up his name later... couldn't find one mention of him on any hospital or ENT register...  Perhaps he was just a walk in off the street.

So there you have it.  I now live in fear of it all happening again.  It was one of the scariest things that has ever happened to me.  Right now, I'm thinking a lot about aloneness and "ongoingness" and I wonder how sustainable my life really is.

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Tuesday, July 02, 2013


Now that I'm almost all recovered from the surgery I miss being looked after.

There is something so intrinsic about humans being looked after I think.  It speaks of safety, loyalty, support, love and survival and I don't think it's any coincidence between that notion and the fact that most of us end up that state of coupledom that we call 'love'.

For me, living back at home on my own I'm finding myself incredibly exhausted by keeping this machine running.  The machine is not so much my own body, but the machine of daily societal existence.  I suppose this is what we do, us humans, we keep this machine running.  We get the bins out on time, pay the bills, keep ourselves fed, washed, on time to various events and work.  We are in a constant state of "ongoingness" and that is essential to us being productive members of a society that is constantly watching that we make the right moves.  Right now, I miss all these things not really mattering.  I miss letting someone else taking care of it all.  I miss leaning backward precariously, knowing I would be caught by strong arms.  I suppose that notion (letting someone else do it) is very un-feminist of me.  Surely as a educated, strong minded, card carrying member of the bourgeois you'd think I'd just want to get on with it and forge my own path out of that big old granite mountain ahead of me using nothing but my wits - but to be honest, folk I can't be fucked.  I just can't.

Yes "ongoingness" is relentlessly difficult at the moment and I'm absolutely exhausted with the effort of trying.  I know that the moment one stops is the moment things fall apart and I, my friends cannot afford to let things fall apart again.  You cannot survive without keeping the machine running.  This much I know for certain.

I envy those who have a dashing (and sexy) co-pilot.  It must be nice to know that come what may you can switch off the main controls and just let someone else navigate that flight path while you get some well earned zzzzzzzzzzzz.  Sure, sometimes you'll have to man the controls but you'll be all the more rested coming into it surely.  Sharing the load is always the better option and makes ongoingness all the more palatable.

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