austria

Free internet.

Merry belated Christmas. Happy New Year. Love from Vienna.

...take off

0.

And while I'm away, I'll write home every day, and send all my loving to you.

one fine day

1.

I was going to call this blog, 'one is the loneliest number'. However that seems so wrong now, after the lovely day I've had.

It was hot today. Too hot. I woke up early to clear the storeroom for the last time and nearly fainted from the heat in that room. It was rather stuffy. But, I have finished and I'm quite pleased with the results. I then chose to hide away in my air-conditioned room and pack my suitcase. I've managed to amaze myself with how little I'm packing. Enough room left so I can bring back gifts. For myself of course.

However, once everything was packed (save toiletries) I was desperately bored. So, I chose to impose my presence on two of my friends who'd gone off walking earlier. After feeling strangely low yesterday, being able to just sit and talk was really nice. My afternoon was filled with lazy, funny goodness. Oliver was abusive every now and then, but despite that, it was still a lovely way to spend the afternoon.

I'm now home, chatting and picking music to put on my iPod. Not long now.

Conclusion: I will miss all my friends very much.

...2 2 was 1 2

2.

Two's company.

I feel a bit despondant tonight. Which is fine. I wish I knew why. But the thing that bothers me the most is the possiblity that I make other people feel a bit crappy.

Two is not long.

I feel a bit nervous/excited.

aboreal delights

3.

Tree: in Ireland, the number that comes between two and four.

I'm not awake enough (or ready) to make my own pretty words at the moment. But, in order to complete the countdown, I will borrow someone elses.

Flowers in the Kitchen

On buying her flowers
she said

"There's no food in the kitchen and we can't eat flowers."

On buying her food
she said

"You don't buy flowers any more."

LEMN SISSAY

Life is funny like that. It's hard to find the balance.

beans

4.

Over halfway done, only four to go.

I am tired. Life is catching up to me at the moment. I'm sleeping on and off after getting home at around half six. After a late night, I decided to recover with cake, a film and a friend. As my life becomes more and more aimless, it is always nice to relax and see friends.

Moments where you tip your head to the side. Smile a little, and think 'what?': Today, I was welcomed home with a note which read:

'wather my bean eveey day. love Thomas.'

a

My youngest brother often surprises me. He can be a bit violent and single-minded on games, but also very thoughful and caring. I don't quite know what to think when it comes to the boy.

This blog seems a bit lacklustre, but I don't mind because my day was not. And there is a cat twisting around my legs for love.

the ship cinq

5.

In another five hours I should be nearing the halfway mark in cleaning the storeroom.

My day has been uninteresting today. I slept in a tad to late whilst having an odd semi-awake dream. In this dream, I was going out with some friends. We were going to a club. Everyone looked great, however it was upon arriving at the club that I realised I was wearing thongs. It was at this point I woke up more confused than anything.

After that, I wandered down to the kitchen. Ate something. Read a little, and then started to clean. I'm constantly finding junk I've never seen in my life. A lot of it is old papers. One of the discoveries which amused me most was a medium-sized box filled to the brim with old kumon papers. Why we held onto them I have no clue.

I need to find nicer stationary. On the to do list.

Edit 1:05pm: I've just found something which makes the box of kumon look commonplace. A massive tub completely filled with unopened model aeroplanes.

six appeal

6.

It's getting uncomfortably close to the date of my departure. Six days in which I have to tie up loose ends, pack and socialise. Can she do it?

Ever since I returned from my 'schoolies' vaction, I've had three obligations:

1) Clean the storeroom. The storeroom is like an attic. It's small and stuffy and filled with crap I haven't seen in years and doubt I'll use in the years to come. I've promised my mother I'll be ruthless; throwing out anything that seems at all useless. However, as I rummage through odds and ends, I find things that trigger an odd memory, or which stimulate terrible nostalgia.

2) Research the scarlet pimpernel. My mission is to find images and drawings of the pimpernel. This is a small, british weed. Not the most beautiful flower. And, is thus rather difficult to find anatomical drawings of. So, the search has involved trips to various libraries over the past few weeks; sifting through bookshelfs and tomes for anything.

3) Have a social life. I think it is my right as a high school graduate to socialise. Whether it be a short chat on msn, dinner one night, or an organised gathering to try to watch films. However, given my previously mentioned responsibilities, it can be difficult to find the balance between friends and my obligations.

Today, I managed to address each issue. What started out as a film day - a collection of friends coming together in the vain hope that we would actually watch a selections of films (we watched one. Manhattan Murder Mystery. My choice and attempt to instill an admiration for Woody Allen in my friends). But, 8:30 this morning, father drags me out of bed to guilt trip me into action - I find disappointment worse than rage. In anycase, I felt quite awful afterwards and spent the next two hours cleaning the storeroom. I also managed to squeeze in a phone call to the Royal Botanical Gardens Library concerning the pimpernel. So, overall the morning was rather productive. The afternoon was more enjoyable. I had lovely long chats about people and life in general.

So much has happened in my lifetime so far.I also came across an old box of photos in my rummagings. It makes me curious about life before I can remember - a time I will never know. However, everyone smiles in photos. I wonder if they are really happy.

the hungry number

7.

One Week. Seven is meant to be a lucky number, yes?

It seems to be paying off for me today. I sat my hazard perception test today. This is a silly computerised test you have to complete in order to sit your drivers exam. Essentially, you watch a video and click when it is safe to turn, slow down, overtake and move off. Funnily enough, and in keeping with the seveness of the day, I passed with 77%. I don't really care about the crapiness this percentage actually represents - mostly, I'm amused.

In other news, I received more than one test result today. As an IB student, I was rather surprised to receive a letter from VTAC, however GAT results have been out. Overall, the GAT means very little to me - it doesn't help me unless everyone doing IB does well. But I'm more than a little surprised, happy and totally prepared to gloat about my Written Communication score. Bodes well for literature at Uni.

Postsecret makes me wonder: do I have any secrets?
a

This one is nice. Someone is a romantic.

the thought that counts

8.

Why was six scared? Because seven, eight, nine.

Numbers have a strange tendency to rule our lives. I know I have my fair share; pin numbers, school numbers, library card numbers, address numbers, postcodes. I know for all the VCE kids that today numbers were very important - well to most. ENTERS came out today. The number that can change your future. Everyone sits somewhere on that bell curve - well, I don't: IB. My numbers have a more limited range. 1 to 7. 3 out of 3. And 45. For me, it's personal satisfaction and my notional ENTER which matter. But I'm not going to bother worrying about that just yet.

Funnily enough, I sometimes find I think in terms of numbers. Families differ depending on the number of children they have. In the morning, I think of my sleep in as portions of 5s. 5 minutes. Another 5 minutes, etc. I think of pants as 2s and t-shirts as 1s. I think of book pages in terms of halves and quarters. Letters have numbers too - but this may be due to scrabble.

Good luck VCE children. For today and tomorrow.

driving lessons

9.

Nine days to go.

Went up to the farm yesterday. It was quite exciting. I was allowed to drive up in the Landcruiser, which is a giant green, manual beast of a car. As a learner, I have only just conquered first gear, so I was eager o drive over a long distance. However, I was pelting with rain. I loved it, but my mother had a few white knuckle moments.

That's all I can think to say at the moment. Listening to music.

Happy Birthday Sunni. 18.

the great beyond

The countdown begins.

10.

In ten days I leave. I fly away to foreign lands. Where I can't speak the language. I'm not ready to go yet; I haven't packed or bought thermals. It will be cold.

Germany. Austria. Italy. France. Home.

Upsetting: I'm going to miss christmas, my family and friends, new years, getting my IB results and boxing day sales.

lovely

s
musings.

I feel slightly adrift at the moment. Aimlessly moving from day to day. I feel a restless too, but not in a physical sense. I can hardly label it as emotional. Probably just a restless Mind. All at once, I want to be surrounded by people and to be left alone to think. But thinking can be dangerous; I overthink. I want lovely things: sunrises, tulips, tea cups, icypoles, songs etc.

I want to be emotionally drained and then to sleep for hours.

Edit 6:11 pm: sleeping was wonderful. a nice end to a day which seemed to be going sadly awry.

smile

Grandmother.

'...a little verse at the end, that was hung at the top of my grandmother's stairs and it read:

"It is easy enough to smile
When everything goes your way,
But the man worthwhile
Is the man who can smile
When everything goes astray."

The ideal is great, its implementation, not so easy.'


ps. birthday today. It was wonderful. Couldn't ask for a better day or better people to share it with.

because i could not stop for death

Emily.


I don't know if you can tell, but I've been going on a bit of a poetry binge lately. In fact, I've really been enjoying Emily Dickinson's poems. While she can be a bit depressing, her poems are so well composed it's hard not to like them. What I like most is their length. Rarely are they long and I admire Dickinson's ability to capture emotions or various concepts with such concision.

This is one of my favourites.

Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.

We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labour, and my leisure too,
For his civility.

We passed the school, where children strove
At recess, in the ring;
We passed the fields of grazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.

Or rather, he passed us;
The dews grew quivering and chill,
For only gossamer my gown,
My tippedt only tulle.

We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.

Since then 'tis centuries, and yet each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.

EMILY DICKINSON

Such a lit loser. and I suck at guitar hero to boot. I wasted so much time on the latter activity today. Most enjoyable.

...do you know this bear?

323

My life closed twice before its close -
It yet remains to see
If Immortality unveil
A third event to me

So huge, so hopeless to conceive
As these that twice befell.
Parting is all we know of heaven,
And all we need of hell.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAEMILY DICKINSON

switch bitch

aaa

After a near death experience by mathematical problems, I decided to save myself and read instead. I wasn't in the mood for anything laborious, so selected a small collection of Roald Dahl stories called 'Switch Bitch'. In it are four outrageously hilarious and slightly naughty short stories. And in true Roald Dahl style, they're a bit fantastical and twisted.

Perfect for reading outdoors and in between exams.

at my most beautiful

Today has been a day of friends, chat and poetry. I enjoyed myself too much (if such a thing is possible) and sadly, I did little exam preparation. Poems, they make me smile.

This Be The Verse
- Phillip Larkin

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself.


They Tuck you up
- Adrian Mitchell

They tuck you up, your mum and dad,
They read you Peter Rabbit, too.
They give you all the treats they had
And add some extra, just for you.

They were tucked up when they were small,
(Pink perfume, blue tobacco-smoke),
By those whose kiss healed any fall,
Whose laughter doubled any joke.

Man hands on happiness to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
So love your parents all you can
And have some cheerful kids yourself

Love Poem

- Lemn Sissay

You remind me
define me
incline me.

If you died
I'd

Edit 10:35. Returning all stolen sentiments as of now.

my happiness

Movies.

I was thinking about how I'd like to celebrate the end of my exams. I'm not exciting enough to go out, so I thought why not stay in. I'd have a movie night.

These are the movies I'd watch.

Nothing like Katharine Hepburn to kick of the evening.

I don't think many people would appreciate the second movie as much as myself. But it's been on the list for a while now.

Mmmm. Classic.

I can never tell whether I'm the only person who likes this movie. But then again, the films I've grown up with have been slightly skewed towards the strange and 'Burton-esque'.

blue suede shoes

Heels are wonderful torture devices.

No doubt invented by a man.

I wish.

And yet, we continue to wear them. Talk about masochism.

le plus beau du quartier

'Maddy, you don't read!'

This is my grandmother's complaint every time I visit her for a french tutorial.

(In many ways, being related to the person who tutors you has it's advantages, such as chocolate biscuits, informality and being doted upon. It also has its drawbacks, like brutal honesty and slamming the table when I forget to make verbal agreements. My grandmother would have to be one of the scariest french teachers I know)

...So, I'm reading. Apparently, it's one of the most effective ways to study for a language exam, so each year I receive a french book form ma grand-mère. Last year it was La Chatte by Colette. So, I'm making an attempt to read it. It's pretty much another story about jealousy and unrequited love. 'But how does a cat fit into all this?' you might ask. Well, it's essentially a love triangle between a young women, her husband and his cat. She loves him. He loves his cat. The cat sounds like it's on drugs.

The plot is simple; a young married couple move into their own apartment. However the husband misses his childhood cat terribly. He returns to his parents house to find the cat and bring her home to his wife. As it turns out, the cat represents the dreams and memories of childhood which he can't let go of, and so he loves her more than his wife. The wife is eventually overcome by jealousy and attempts to kill the cat, but fails. Learning of this, the husband leaves his young wife for his cat.

In a word: strange.

The author was pretty strange herself:

' je reve que j'épouse un très grand chat.' - Colette

sitting, waiting, wishing

ode to my family (and friends)

It's pretty much over.

Okay. Exams are still in the very near future. So are hours of grueling study. Panic attacks. Terrible sleep patterns. Fruitless cramming. Hand cramps. Mathematically induced headaches. Rants. Procrastination. Intellectual hangovers.

And while I'm sure most of you aren't narrow-minded enough to forget how wonderful your life truly is, I've decide to be "that person" who gently reminds you.

It's cliché, but I like it:

aaaaaaDon't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened. - anon

kids

Relfelctions on a Gift
of a Watermelon Pickle
Received from a Friend
called Felicity

During that summer
When unicorns were still possible;
When the purpose of knees
Was to be skinned;
When shiny horse chestnusts
aaaaaaa(Hollowed out
aaaaaaawith straws
aaaaaaaCrammed with tobacco
aaaaaaaStolen from butts
aaaaaaaIn family ashtrays)
Were puffed in green lixard silence
While straddling thick branches
Far above and away
From the softening effects
Of civilisation

During that summer ---
Which may never have been at all;
But which has become more real
Than the one that was ---
Watermelons ruled.

Thick pink imperial slices
Melting frigidly on sun-parched tongues
Dribbling from chins;
Leaving the best part,
The black bullet seeds,
To be spit out in rapid fire
Against the wall
Against the wind
Against each other;

And when the ammunition was spent,
There was always another bite:
It was a summer of limitless bites,
Of hungers quikcly felt
And quickly forgotten
With the next careless gorging.

The bites are fewer now.
Each one is savored lingeringly,
Swallowed reluctantly.

But in a jar put up by Felicity,
The summer which maybe never was
Has been captured and preserved.
And when we unscrew the lid
And slice off a piece
And let it linger on our tongue:
Unicorns become possible again.

John Tobias

the long and winding road

Photos as promised.

Well, today I had my art exam. This involved a forty-five minute oral where I explained my work and my madness. I think it went quite well, however sometimes it was difficult to gauge the examiners reaction. But he gave some excellent advice concerning my CRB (candidate record book) which is to be examined later. It's rather nice to have it over. Furthermore, I only have five subjects to worry about now. I'm practically a VCE student (the slackers). Anyway, below are photos of the exam layout and the chair in detail. All stenciling, painting and varnishing was made/done by hand (and yes, MY hands).


see Joseph Kosuth

The chair looks best with dirt in the pots

In other news...

The things I do for my family. Many of you may already know that I was Alana's model in the VCE fashion show. There was a lot of make up (especially around the eyes, I looked rather 'raccoony') and hairspray (see bird's nest). These photos were taken after Alana's fashion show. But don't be fooled. This was me with my hair down and my eye make up removed. It was truly frightening. I'm still waiting for photos of the actual night. However, I've heared good things about the show. WELL DONE ALANA!

j'en connais

This is annoying. I wanted to post photos of my chair, but I can't find my card reader. I've searched every inch of my home and I cannot find it. This isn't unusual in my house. Too much junk.

Perhaps this is a blessing in disguise. I wouldn't want my chair to fail to meet the expectations I may have built in peoples minds. I come off excited when I talk about it, but that's because I've finished and I don't have to stay up until one in the morning painting it.

I also wanted to post some rather interesting photos or raccoon-eyed girls and bird-nest heads. But they can wait as well I suppose.

However, while I was searching for the card reader I came across a pair of tortoise shell Wayfarers. They're about 20 years old and the hinges are a bit loose, so Mum said I could have them. So, I took them. I mean how often do things like that present them self for free?

Anyway. Watch this space for amusing images. Or at least take pleasure in the fact that I'm making an idiot of myself by running around the house looking for a small plastic contraption.

Here's a sudoku to tide you over until I can be more interesting.

don't stop me now

Jack Radcliffe

Right now I feel a bit like this; tired, frustrated and I need a hit of something soothing 'cos coffee just won't cut it. Fortunately my drug of choice is the internet. I chose blogging.

Today, I decided, I don't like painting. I've always had an inkling, but this afternoon I put my theory to the test and was not disappointed. There are just so many layers and colours and shades and lines and non-lines. It was a frustrating experience.

However, all this unpleasant painting provided the perfect opportunity to sit in the sun and listen to music and think (when not overwhelmed by frustration). And one thought, which has occurred to me before, was that I wish my day to day life had a soundtrack. I think that people around me, and maybe even myself, would be able to pick up on how I feel a lot easier.

So, I compiled a soundtrack for today.

This morning while walking in the sun through Camberwell: Dreams - The Cranberries

Sitting for hours while making stencils: One Week - Barenaked Ladies

The "occasional" (and I use the term loosely) msn conversation and sudoku: Kids - MGMT

Completion of said stencils: She's So High - Tal Bachman

The decisions to give up msn for the week: Sex on Fire - Kings of Leon

Stencils not working: Cornflake Girl - Tori Amos

Painting. Painting. Painting: Ode To My Family - The Cranberries

Blog: Say that you Love Me - Fleetwood Mac

And now my back hurts. So I'm going to lie down and listen to Queen.

by the way

Oh Alice, what to do!

School is nearly back and in many ways I'm at a loss for ... most anything. My main concern at the moment is art. And like most things, I'm lacking a sure direction. When this happens I tend to flick through my RWB and see where I've come from. Today, instead, I picked up Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass. I tend to flick from page to page looking for the original sketches. They are incredibly unique and always delightful to look at. It’s almost a mix between correct proportions and those which verge on the impossible.

If I could have anything, I'd want to be able to draw like this. Well not really, I'd like a perfect IB score, but this comes in a close secondish on the list.

On a different note, the sun is out. The sky is blue. Somewhere in the world blue birds are singing and I'm listening to Louis Armstrong's What a Wonderful World. I hope everyone has a wonderful day.

what's new pussycat?

Felix is gone.

Felix was our adopted cat. He showed up at our house about two weeks ago and then just hung around. We ended up feeding him once he became really whiny. On Thursday we finally decided to take him to the vet to scan his microchips. Turns out, he had been missing for 3 months. His real name is boots. But given his colouring, Felix is a much better, albeit incredibly unoriginal, name.

***

Ok, It is now Sunday. I started writing this on Saturday. A lot can happen in a night. Guess who I found sitting at my backdoor this morning. That's right, Felix is back.

der schwanensee

Home alone. Listening to Tchaikovsky. Lovely.

I'm on a classical binge.

funeral blues

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

W.H. Auden

the first cut is the deepest

I've been a bit uninspired lately. Life is busy (and by life I mean school) and I'm just plodding on through. But I thought that I should make a post at least once during September.

However, the other day I had a small nostalgic moment. For once, it's not school related. I was cutting up an apple. I think it was a Granny Smith, because green apples are infinitely superior. Then, this rather random memory suddenly popped into my head of me as a small girl watching my mum cut up an apple. It reminded me of my belief that mothers have that perfect way of cutting up an apple. First into quarters and then getting rid of the core in one swift cut. I always thought that when I was older (or maybe a mother), I'd be able to do it too.

Turns out I can't. But I suppose there's still time.

all i want

I want to f l y.


I want to put on my blue, suede shoes and dance.

I want to run around with sparklers.

I want forty-one.

I want to lie in the sun and daydream.

I want to bake cupcakes and l i c k the bowl.

I want to read all the books hidden under my bed.

I want to go on picnics and pick flowers.

I want borrow Bresson’s camera.

I want to p l a y mario kart.

I want people to burst in to spontaneous song in the street.

I want to star gaze.

I want to listen to music all day.

I want to steal Donne’s words, Wilde’s wit and Camus’ clarity.

I want to sip tea and recite poetry.

I want a single day of perfect understanding.

I want to wear my pyjamas all day.

I want to sing in the r a i n.

I want to hide notes in babushka dolls.

I want to find love letters in antique desks.

I want to do cartwheels down grassy hills.

I want to be ambitious.

I want to be content.

I want to write poems about blue birds and nothing in particular.

I want to crack a crème brulé.

I want to click my heels together three times.

I want o n e more hour in every day.

middle distance runner

Well I'm so sad tonight
And the words won't come out right
It's been a long day on the track
And its stamina that I lack

So won't you run to me tonight?
Tonight we could pretend that we're just lovers
But I'll only ever be a middle distance runner

Well my heart is beating hard
And I'm off with a shot at the start
And my legs tremble from strain
But by the finish line I'll drain

So won't you run to me tonight?
Tonight let's not talk about next summer
Cause I'll only ever be a middle distance runner

Well I'm so proud tonight
Of the woman you've become
And I'm just too tired to fight
So my darling, I'll succumb

But you'll have to run to me tonight
Tonight I will love you forever
But I'll only ever be a middle distance runner

Sea Wolf

listen.

http://www.myspace.com/seawolf

roll over beethoven

I'm bored. I should be doing my history IA, but I just can't bring myself to do it right now. So I'll do something a bit mindless instead.

~ Choose a singer/band/group
~ Answer using ONLY titles of songs by that singer/band/group
~ Tag 6 more people (let them know they've been tagged)

Those who wish to procrastinate are automatically tagged.

And I choose The Beatles. By the way, a prize to the first person to correctly count the number of The Beatles titles in this blog.

1. Are you male or female?
I am the Walrus

2. Describe yourself.
Oh! Darling

3. What do people feel when they're around you?
I Want to Tell You

4. How would you describe your previous relationship?
I’ll Cry Instead

5. Describe your current relationship.
Ain’t Nothing Shakin’

6. Where would you want to be now?
Strawberry Fields

7. How do you feel about love?
All You Need is Love

8. What's your life like?
Take Out Some Insurance on me Baby

9. What would you ask for if you had only one wish?
I Wish I could Shimmy Like my Sister Kate

10. Say something wise.
One and One is Two

The Beatles wrotes some very strange songs, with even more bizzare titles. I'm upset that I wasn't able to use;

~ Baby, Let's Play House
~ Leave my Kitten Alone
~ Lend me Your Comb
~ Maxwell's Silver Hammer
~ Run For Your Life
&
~ Ps. I Love You

But alas ... 'The End'

camera

Life seems simpler through the lens of a camera.

"Photography is an instantaneous operation, both sensory and intellectual -- an expression of the world in visual terms, and also a perpetual quest and interrogation. It is at one and the same time the recognition of a fact in a fraction of a second and the rigorous arrangement of the forms visually perceived which give to that fact expression and significance."

- Henri Cartier-Bresson, The Decisive Moment

Cartier-Bresson

... and as I sat, with nothing on my mind, a little bird appeared before me and whispered: aren't you glad I'm your blank space?

cheer up boys (your make up is running)

Rules for life:

'I have told my sons that they are not under any circumstances to take part in massacres, and that the news of massacres of enemies is not to fill them with satisfaction or glee.

I have also told them not to work for companies which make masscre machinery, and to express contempt for people who think we need machinery like that.'

Kurt Vonnegut
~ Slaughterhouse 5

'Laugh and the world laughs with you, snore and you sleep alone.'

Mrs. Patrick Campbell
~ Letter to George Bernard Shaw

'Don't touch shit even with gloves on. The gloves get shittier, the shit doesn't get glovier.'

Gustave Flaubert

'Hitler sucks... You know what else sucks? A vaccumn.'

Ben

'The Income Tax has made more liars out of the American people than golf has.'

Will Rogers
~ Illiterate Digest

'To love one's self is the beginning of a life-long romance.'

Oscar Wilde
~ An Ideal Husband

'A friend may well be reckoned the masterpiece of nature.'

Ralph Waldo Emerson
~ Essays 'Friendship'

'A word is dead
When it is said,
Some say.
I say it just
Begins to live
That day.'

Emily Dickinson
~ A Word is Dead

'One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life: that word is love.'

Sophocles
~ Oedipus at Colonus

I don't know about you, but quotes cheer me up. Cheer up everyone.

Smile.

i'm walking on sunshine

I love that people live near me. It would take me all my fingers and toes (and perhaps yours too) to list them all. In any case, I'm not usually hurting for company. Today was a random wandering day with Sunni and our cameras. Sunni had two so she lent me hers when my battery decided to give up on me.

It was a fairly un-photogenic day, so not many natural photos were taken. So I resorted to Sunni, gnomes, Sunni, benches, flowers and Sunni. Enjoy.


There's this one house I absolutely adore. I walk past it on the way to school most days, and the front garden is packed with figurines.

Some suss-looking froggies.

looks like she's eating it (and if you look closely you can see the rain)

the only truly artisitc photo I took

I felt a bit silly taking a picture of these two, but I liked the fact they were sharing an umbrella (and i'm attracted to 'rain gear'; little yellow padington raincoats, bumboots, umbrellas etc. etc.)

ad for landscapers, but I want to use it in an art project ... somehow.

yeah, you really wouldn't get it.

a bit dazed and confused.

I call this collection 'Happy Sunni Photos'

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?