sing, sing, sing

if you were a song, what would you be?

's wonderful

... 's marvelous

Photograph courtesy of Olive Cotton

Things are starting to look up. I feel like I'm reaching that point in the year when everything comes into focus. IAs are finishing up, orals are done and dusted, CAS and TOK are coming to a close and syllabuses are winding up. I hope that's it and not a teasing glimpse of happiness. That wouldn't be fair. But let's not dwell on unhappy (or in some cases, happy) schoolities.

Yesterday was a particularly nice day. I had free and cancelled periods all day (except for art, but I worked on RWB at home). However, it also felt productive. I did some biology, some history, some reading. I went for a rather disastrous walk to the library and came home barefoot and blistered, but it was still a gorgeous day and that has to count for something.

When I got home I came across some nice poems and a particularly amusing limerick. However, I've already been told off once for saying it. And I wouldn't want to offend anyone's 'sensibilities'. It is rather crude, but in a good mood it makes you smile.

But the highlight of my day was playing with my seven year old brother on our old, fluro orange Nintendo 64. I was rather happy with the outcomes considering how long it's been since I've played Super Smash Brothers (the original). And also because we both play dirty.

In the end it was Me 1, Thomas 4.

when you are old

Literary analysis. I can never decide if I like it, or if I don't. Most of the time I enjoy it, I think. English essays are really the only ones I can tolerate (history anyone? I didn't think so). But sometimes while reading a school text I miss the meaning because I'm so caught up looking for it. So I've come to the conclusion that sometimes analysis can ruin a good thing. (This extends to life in general kiddies). That was my small slice of wisdom for today, and there are so few I can hardly share them all, so instead I'm going to be self-indulgent.

The analysis of poetry I find troubling, and you would to if you had to write a commentary on Three Lunulae, Truro Museum. Don't get me wrong, I love poetry, but I have so much trouble finding poems that really mean anything (to me at least). And so we get to the point: Today I was perusing my Faber Book of Love Poems. Now, I'm a huge fan of the 'Plagues of Loving' and 'Absences, Doubts and Divisions' sections, but today I was flicking through the 'Love Renounced and Love in Death' section and I stumbled upon a beautiful something.

When You Are Old

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with false of true;
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face.

And bending down beside the glowing bars
Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled
And placed upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

W.B. Yeats

It seems lovely but sad and I don't completely get it, and I'm not sure if I want to. But I'm disgusted that first thing I noticed was the rhyming A, B, B, A scheme. (and now I'm thinking about Abba)

However, to distract myself, I'd like to assert that revenge and hate are equally good themes to write a poem about. They require a bit more wit. Which is why I'm pleased when I find a love poem that seems to have a deeper meaning. But hate is always a bit of fun.

A Poison Tree

I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I watered it in fears,
Night and morning with my tears;
And I sunnèd it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore and apple bright:
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine,

And into my garden stole,
When the night had veiled the pole:
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.

William Blake

hmmm.

when i grow up

Today was rather uneventful. Actually, no, I lie. Today, I technically had the first three periods off. In that time I managed to induce my own heart attack, walk up and down Glenferrie Road. Twice. Purchase three cupcakes, see one car collide into the back of another and squeeze in the final corrections of my TOK essay. Period four, however, I had art. Currently I'm working with chairs and body parts. When I try and explain my work, people end a lot more confused then when I started, so I'll just show you.

It's an arm-chair. In real life, that's the chair I read in. Minus the arms. (ignore the butterfly. I hate it)

There are now way more vines everywhere. I got a bit carried away.

After Art, the day became even more eventful as I walked home with Sunni. But not before we took some surreal and artistic photographs.

And since this was Gabby's camera, we left her with this stunner.

However the cherry which topped my day was when Sunni and I walked home. Not only was there a hard rubbish collection (all petty thieves welcome) but Sunni walked most of the way home with at least 10 metres of rusty wire. We also spoke of many profound and interesting things.

me: hey, these look like albino cherries
sunni: oh, maddy
me: hehe, step on it *throws berry-like thing onto the footpath*
sunni: *steps onto berry-like thing*
me: it's white on the inside
sunni: just like gabby

Five minutes later

me: we're so childish

But there's nothing wrong with that. Is there?

tell me what you see

'In expanding the field of knowledge we but increase the horizon of ignorance’ - Henry Miller

Is this true?

breakfast at tiffany's

Today was the last day with the cousins and aunt in town, so I had originally planned to take them to breakfast in Kew. However, it was decided by all that blueberry pancakes at home would be a much less expensive and more delicious choice. I'm such a loser that I take photos of my food. Gourmet Traveller here I come.

maple syrup and fresh strawberries.

This was washed down with really strong coffee.

I would have licked the plate if I had been alone. I'm truly depraved.

And we all made a friend called Gary

thank you for the music

I'm a creature of habit, and I like the idea of tradition. However, there is only one tradition I partake in that is really my own. Every year, around may, I make a compilation CD and force my 'personal' and somewhat 'acquired' taste in music on Amy. This started out as a birthday gift idea for poor, unsuspecting Amy in year ten. For some reason I never got out of the habit. Strangely enough, she seems to look forward to this. However this year I'm extremely late, as it is a gift belated by nearly two months. But I'm rather pleased with the outcome, and happily listened to it on the tram on my way to the University of Melbourne this morning.

1. Woo Hoo - 5, 6, 7, 8s

2. Happiness is a Warm Gun - The Beatles

3. The Blowers Daughter - Damien Rice

4. Taylor - Jack Johnson

5. I Will Follow you into the Dark - Death Cab for Cutie

6. Fall at your Feet - Crowded House

7. One Fine Day - The Chiffons

8. Fox on the Run - The Sweet

9. Violet Hill - Coldplay

10. Save Tonight - Eagle Eye Cherry

11. Solsbury Hill - Peter Gabriel

12. Edge of Seventeen - Stevie Nicks

13. Fidelity - Regina Spektor

14. Flora's Secret - Enya

15. Pretty Little Ditty - Red Hot Chili Peppers

16. Your Heart is an Empty Room - Death Cab for Cutie

17. Fast Car - Tracy Chapman

18. The Call - Regina Spektor

18 songs for 18 years. Happy Birthday Amy! (and I apologise for the 70s. They didn't know any better)

On a different note, today was the University of Melbourne's Access All Areas. In all truthfulness it was rather boring, and the highlight of my day was definitely Lygon Street and San Churros. For those who have never experienced churros, I like to know if you've been living under a rock for the past ten years. This is what you're missing.

Spanish donuts and dipping chocolate.

Chocolate macadamia tart which Kris and Andy (my Grecian lovelies) ordered

Gabby drawing on my coffee.

It was supposed to be an 'M' and a Heart

My Grecian lovelies

The equally lovely Gabby, who is currently trying to convey less through facial expression and more through words.

Looking just a bit glamorous

This is me being a being a bit artistic, and a bit proud of my lacing.

I apologise for all fuzziness and bluring. I blame it on the lighting, shutter speed and the movements of my models. I of course, am perfect.

vogue

It's official, my shoe closet is decidedly boring. Unfortunately, nowadays, you need money to be interesting. So I just get to look. But I thought the existence of these shoes should be made known. I get tingles. M.C. Escher doesn't stray too far from my mind either.



Marc Jacobs, spring summer 08.

However, I'm not 100% sure of the mechanics involved here. How would one walk? One of life's tantalising mysteries.

silver

Slowly, silently, now the moon
Walks the night in her silver shoon;
This way, and that, she peers, and sees
Silver fruit upon silver trees;
One by one the casements catch
Her beams beneath the silvery thatch;
Couched in his kennel, like a log,
With paws of silver sleeps the dog;
From their shadowy cote the which breasts peep,
Of doves in a silver-feathered sleep;
A harvest mouse goes scampering by,
With silver claws, and silver eye;
And moveless fish in the water gleam,
By silver reeds in a silver stream.

Walter de la Mare

One of my favourite poems. I wanted to read something pretty

home

I’m back. I should be unpacking or doing the homework I had planned to do last week but didn’t. Instead, I’m going to procrastinate for an hour or two.

Port Douglas was fun. I can't really be bothered explaining anything that happened but i'm happy to post many photos which illustrate my 'Tourist Day' with my friend Alana (who by the way recently got a fringe - thoughts?). This involved buying 'Lolita' glasses and then taking cheesy 'touristy' photos. enjoy.

Ice creams were a must. Alana = Cookies and Cream and Me = Coffee.

We also met some other georgeous people. The shade was terrible though, and a foreigner was taking the photo. He was having enough trouble with my camera as it was, so we only posed for one.

We had lunch near this church, which I think is very cute

Bernie like the Lolita glasses

Becky wasn't allowed to bring homework with her...

Anni on the other hand decided to get in some UMAT practice.

Then Alana and I decided to walk home along the beach. However, we became disoreientated and this is where we ended up...

Where we took many silly photos

Many.

However, on a different note, I have received complaints from 'some' who cannot keep up with my ever changing priorities: mainly that I don’t blog what I say I will. So, I will begin with cupcakes. The Wednesday before last I made cupcakes for my sister’s birthday. I was asked to make these cupcakes the previous Monday, however I did not foresee how much homework I would have and as a result my bake and decorate extravaganza was moved to midnight. So I spent the wee hours of Thursday morning decorating cupcakes. However, It was the best photographically documented moment of my entire life, not even baby photos can compare, and I choose to share It.

this is the result of careless food dye dropping.

cupcake glitter!

I'm not sure if you can tell, but there are 24 cupcakes which spell (in little edible silver bally things) * H-A-P-P-Y B-I-R-T-H-D-A-Y I-S-A-B-E-L-L-A-! *

In the end I went to bed at 1:30. All in a days work.