How to begin?

I suppose I'm having another one of my little 'my friends are the best people in the world' type moods. I was almost asleep last night and couldn't help pondering some of the connections that are important to me. I know a lot of people, and call many 'friend.' Of course. And, as I said in First Year Philosophy (when exploring the human connection) I have a unique experience with everyone. Now, 'experience' probably isn't the exact word I'm looking for here. Perhaps connection would be slightly more accurate?

Now I'm waffling.

I suppose I was thinking about people that make you go 'Ooh! I want to be like them' or that you... I don't know... Not exactly have a crush on, but feel... 'more' about. Everyone surely has people in their life who make them smile, either because they're kind and lovely people (which would actually be most of my friends) or because you just want to know them. There are people who make you feel honoured to know them, right?

More waffling. Waffle, anyone?

I've finally, finally finshed my stupid Editing homework. It's four hours later than I thought and I have a crick in my neck, but it's done. Oh, and I also typed up the rest of my assignment for Australian Lit.

Why, oh why, did I start reading Telanu? My god, it's addictive. It's like a nice juicy soap... Bah. Well, I should be almost finished it soon, then I can find another obsession.

Oh no! Only 45 minutes before I have to go to work!

I was seriously, seriously snarky on Thursday night because the guy who closes almost every night (we shall call him Close King) cracked the absolute shits and we being a complete arsehole. I had to go and close Pizzahead so that another girl could go home, and when I came out, I had no idea where we were up to. I asked him what was going on, and he refused to tell me. Flat out refused. I was so irritated! It made the night twice as painful as it usually is, and due to Close King's extreme bastardishness, he made my supervisor bawl her eyes out.

The thing is, he can be really great if he's relaxed. You can actually have a great conversation with him, and he's been there for me a couple of times, especially when I was having a rough time at work when Ash left. Then again, he has made me cry (as well as about half the rest of the staff) because he yells at people. He's often coming down from god knows what, and can be a bastard.

I found out that he's resigned. I don't know how to feel. I had a huge bitch about him on Thursday night with Supervisor and the Cashier after he made us all feel like crap, which made me feel much better. I could easily hate him, but I can't help but remember him actually being a decent guy sometimes.

Argh! Now I have to go to work!

And I still have a crick in my neck.

So, the launch was last night. I went into the city with Sean, and we had dinner in one of the cute laneway cafes on Degraves Street. I had this massive warm chicken salad and ate Sean's chips. Then we met Erika and James at Darrell Lea and pigged out on pick'n'mix. We caught a tram to the Malthouse and went to get dodgy Chinese for the starving James and Erika.

They ate their Chinese food on a park bench. James yelled 'I am not an animal' with soup on his chin. *laughs* Then, we made our way to the Bagging Room.

We each grabbed a drink, and I went and got my free copy. The room was packed, and there weren't many people I recognised. I said a quick hello to the Editors I knew and then the speeches began. There were thank you's and readings (which were all very, very good) and then we kept drinking and circulated some more. I stalked and talked to an old tutor of mine (who has retired, but who I've personally heard saying 'Fuck'... hilarious) then had a chat to my Fiction tutor from last semester. He looked a bit nervous at being approached by a student. As well as talking to him, I stammered awkwardly at the unit chair of Non-Fiction writing, who is huge in the photography world and gives amazingly good lectures. Had some more wine. Went red.

We left after they kicked us out and caught the tram home. After a few vodkas, some dancing, singing to Aretha (to a curtain rod, no less) and some rather obscene (there's that word again) Twister, we went to bed. I rang Ash (aww) and attempted to sleep.

And that's about it.

The launch is tonight.

Of course, I shouldn't be thinking of that, I should be thinking about my neglected Editing homework. I really shouldn't even be posting...

*long sigh* Right. Nose to the grindstone and all that...

I can't get this to switch back to normal size... Fuck it. I'm leaving it as it is.

As I was saying (if you caught the other entry) I'm utterly unenthused with my Editing homework. If only I could just do Fiction...

My Fiction piece is coming along very well.

An extract.

Shortly after my seventeenth birthday, I took my father’s car and drove a few hours. I soon discovered a secluded little woodland that would allow me to cultivate the herbs I would require in my work. I made the pathetic excuse to my father that I ‘simply wished to have some time in the open air.’ I believe he suspected that I was sneaking a visit with my sweetheart. In truth, there was nobody for me. My uneven features turned away even the plainest girls that made my acquaintance. Within the woods, I found a little hollow that suited my needs perfectly. It was tucked out of sight and reasonably sheltered, yet possessed sufficient sunshine for my little garden to flourish. I took care to position my herbs erratically, so as to create the impression that they grew randomly. Of course, nobody with even a passing familiarity with deadly nightshade could fail to spot that several plants were clustered unusually close together. Still, it would be enough to deceive the casual observer, and I hardly thought that someone would deliberately seek out my patch of noxious herbs.


I think I have The Voice, now. A Good Thing, indeed.

Daddy, Daddy, you bastard, I'm through. - Plath.

Pain has resurfaced.

Tonight, I have witnessed a character caring for her dying father. He was in a bed in her home, surrounded by his children and a carer. So did my father die, but we were not there…

The last shot showed a dead man’s vacant eyes. They are brown, as my father’s were green. I have my father’s eyes, both present in my body and in my mind.

The characters clustered around their dying father, they were looking into his eyes as the light faded from them. Where was I? Gone.

I cannot stop sobbing.

Was he thinking of me? I don’t know. I never will.

Our greens were matched. I have ever been my father’s daughter.

He’s dead. That’s it.

Did he even know who he was looking at, the very last time? He was dying, and confused. Is it not possible that to him, I was a stranger? Did he remember me as a child, helping to make mud bricks?

I cannot stop sobbing.

Did he know who I am now? Could he see me? Did he know the direction of my heart?

I am raw.

I wasn’t there. I wasn’t even fucking there.

I watched the other man die; an actor, a fake. That is perhaps the closest I will come to seeing my father, my blood… die.

I am torn apart.

My mind just went completely blank.

Now I remember what I wanted to post about...

I was in my Australian Literature class yesterday, and we were looking at the worst book in the world, the hated (by me) 'Monkey Grip' by Helen 'Paul McCartney' Garner. Now, I don't know about anyone else, but I have a real problem with the main character. Basically, she has an intense sexual connection with this guy called Javo, who is a heroin addict. She also has mind-blowing sex with him (which I found... slightly sickening - there was a lot of fairly crude language) and becomes horribly upset when he's either out of it or off having sex with some random one-dimentional chick. The character herself, Nora, despite this "amazing" connection with Javo continues to have sex all over the place with faceless blokes from her community.

I just didn't understand why. I mean, if she's so upset with him sleeping around, why would she do it herself? The text shows that she has no emotional reactions when having sex with these randoms, so why would she do it? I just can't get my head around... the point...

Maybe I'm just a girl who is made for one other person. And sure, there are many people around me whom I love. But that doesn't change the fact that I have one person who absolutely completes me.

Is there something wrong with me, that I can't understand the reasoning behind random, emotionless, meaningless sex. She doesn't even appear to get any pleasure out of it...

I just don't understand.

Radio last night was brilliant! Synplayer was working (for a change) which meant that we had full access to the show media we created on Shane's computer. We have a sweeper called 'Posessed doll sweeper,' which goes something like:

Shane: Now, here are some words from a posessed doll.
Me as doll: I'm coming to get you... and you'd better leave some Snickers out for me...'
Me normally: (something like) Syn 907...

But my favourite is our promo with Barry White singing 'Can't get enough of your love babe' and me saying 'Feeling the love on Syn 907... OH YEAH' (in a blacktastic voice.) I know I've said it before, but I adore radio.

Upon getting home, I stayed up all night talking to Erika about various things. Now, I've finished most of my fucking presentation (I hope you covered your children's eyes for that one) which has been irritating me for a week. Helen Garner, may you rot in hell!

Today, I'm going to a 21st BBQ lunch and stuffing myself full of Greek food (one of my favourite pastimes) before going to work and trying to bully my Supervisor into playing a CD I made the other night. Fingers crossed.

This was taken just before I went to work on one less-than-cloudy day.

Squinting is such fun.

Awww...

Travel plans are being made for next year.

I feel as if I'm standing on the rail of a ship with everything open ahead of me. I can go anywhere I want next year, after my three year course is over. I think I've really had quite enough of writing literature essays at this point, and I'm lusting after adventure.

I stayed up until 3am last night sitting on the couch and talking to Erika. It was one of those really good discussions, you know? All over the place and random, but touching on things that are important. I've decided that if I get into honours, I'll take a year off and come back. If I don't (which is possible, because I'm horribly slack) I'll do short courses in Broadcasting and Remedial Massage. Possibly Accupuncture. I can see myself working on either radio or as a massage therapist whilst writing on the side. I might even work in hospitality to keep things interesting. I guess I'm the sort of person who needs difference and excitement. Also, you can do things like massage and writing anywhere...

Things are opening up. It makes me smile.

I've been playing with the playlists on iTunes. Somehow, in all of the car trips to and from Uni, I got a musical education in alternative rock. Well, perhaps it's not as alternative as all that, but to a former pop-junkie like myself with almost no knowledge of "good" music (or so my friend Lisa would say) I've found myself... changing.

I made a playlist of rock, and I actually enjoy it. Maybe this is the start of a new musical era.

Hey Hey Baby - Spazzys
Seven Nation Army (Cover) - Audioslave
Hangin on the telephone - Blondie
What Ever Happened? - The Strokes
Best Of You - Foo Fighters
Reptillia - The Strokes
Run Baby Run - Garbage
Two-Timing Touch And Broken Bones - The Hives
Malibu - Hole Malibu
All My Crushes - Magic Dirt
Time Is Running Out - Muse
12:51 - The Strokes
The Hand That Feeds - Nine Inch Nails
No One Knows - Queens Of The Stone Age
I Can't Win - The Strokes
Get Free - The Vines

I can't help but cringe a little bit. I'm so musically uncool that I probably think this is a really good playlist when in fact it has flaws... Never mind. I've always maintained that I like music that I like, and screw the popularity.

I wrote a script today. The new show should be good this week.

I need sleep.

This one's for Jes, who apparantly reads this... (Surprising, I thought nobody did... Ah well, thank you for reading, if you do!)

I have all the technology I've wanted for a very long time. Will this satisfy me, or increase my lust?

I'm thinking that this aught to hold me for a while. After all, this computer is awfully shiny.

I've been wanting to write all day. Tomorrow I shall sit down ay my brand new keyboard and write the beginning of my poisoner story. Oh, and an episode of Shirley Bassy High...

The new show is so good!

I should be sleeping...

Yesterday was perfect.

I needed no persuasion to skip Editing class (it was nothing more than two hours of work on citation) and instead of trekking to Uni, I spent the whole day in the company of my Love. It's something precious when she is leaving so soon.

We slept late. The is something utterly delightful in waking up slowly, with no thought to what needs to be done in the day. Few have such freedom, yes? (I shall be a Uni student forever.) We spent the morning curled up in bed. It was lovely.

When we finally managed to get up, we went into the city and had a gorgeous lunch in one of the laneways near Flinders St. It was raining, and we darted in and out of the shops until we found a cafe that was warm and cosy. Lunch was so damn good, I ate until I couldn't eat any more. Then, we went book shopping. I found a Lindholm and a Fford I'd been meaning to get, and we grinned at the new Hobb, remembering the Stalker Weekend in Sydney.

Then, Max Brenner. How can something so delightful exist? We spent an hour there looking cutesy and feeding each other chocolate. We positively screamed 'Smug couple.' I was in heaven.

Back home, back to bed. No complaints from me.

We emerged at midnight to cook dinner, then slept.

As I said, a perfect day.

I shall treasure it.