A Treasure

This little darling is Sean's newest foal. Her name is Zamia, and she's the daughter of Halouj (who was apparantly pretty big in the horse world.)

She's a big step for Sean when it comes to increasing his stable, but I can't help going all girly and giggly over her. Isn't she pretty?

I'm worse than I was when I saw ponies an Dartmoor with Indy and Jes.

Crushes

Seeing as the last post seems to be generating some discussion...

Crushes. How do they work? Why do we get them? Are they harmless? Is their value overlooked?

That's enough questions for now, I sound like Carrie sodding Bradshaw.

I was reading 'The Good Weekend' in the tea room (read: fenced off area with a table and a notice board) and there was an extremely interesting piece written about crushes. Try and dig it up if you can? The gist was basically that people develop crushes all the time. They don't have to be sexual, but can provoke feelings that are similar to those of romance. The writer said that females tend to have these kind of crushes on each other - in much the same way that nearly every woman in the world wants to spend the night with Anglina Jolie. (And lets face it, she's pretty spectacular.) The writer went on to state that in movies and the media, relationships are nearly always sexual, and that these infatuations are overlooked. I would tend to agree with most of what she said.

I think that crushes are an admiration thing. You see something in a person that you want to have, right? There is certainly no harm in them. I seem to develop them quite easily. And, if my workplace is anything to go by, people seem to develop them on me quite easily.

Perhaps it could be because I am gay, but taken. In the eyes of the crushee I would of course be flattered, but couldn't do anything about it. It's a pretty safe little crush to have, I suppose. And of course, I am flattered. It's very touching, isn't it?

I think that crushes and love fall into different categories. Crushes are beautiful, delicate things, and if they're treated properly, can develop into wonderful friendships and give you an ego boost. Love is different, in my opinion. Love runs deeper. Love is scary. Love makes me feel like I can't contain everything that's running around in my mind and my body. Crushes are a light summer scent to love's heady perfume. Both are important in life, and both should be valued, in my opinion.

And that's a good way to put off essay writing for another fifteen minutes.

Romantic Inclinations

Is the whole damn world in love with me, or what?

I find out that yet another girl from work has a crush on me...

I don't get it.

That, and I'm tired and grumpy and have to work tonight. Grah.

A Long, Rambling Update

Oh, look. I've been a lazy girl when it comes to blogging of late, haven't I?

I suppose I should start from Yum Cha. It was slightly less scary this time, as I knew what to expect. There were, thankfully, no chicken feet. I managed to use my chopsticks in a slightly acceptable manner. After stuffing ourselves (and hiding from the huge crabs that were scuttling around in the tank over our heads) we went for a good old shop. We went to Dymocks, and I forced Hobb onto my ex-Bar Manager. She went with Carey instead. Never mind. I'll convert her one day.

Then I went home and watched about six episodes of Buffy. At some point over the last few days, I watched 'The Body.' I sort of knew what to expect, but still... It is an extremely powerful episode. I couldn't stop crying, especially when: (spoilers)

Anya wigged out because she didn't understand why Joyce had died.

When Willow was torn between what to wear. Such a simple thing to be concerned about, but the dramatic tension in the scene made it seem like the most important thing in the world to Willow. That was just so touching...

When Buffy told Dawn, and you saw what was happening through the eyes of her classmates. That was just wrenching.


Ah, it was intence. I couldn't stand the silence in some parts. I suppose the background music is such a huge part of television these days that you expect it to be playing, especially when anything emotional is going on. The silence was a complete and utter contrast. It was stark and cold. Beautifully done.

Yesterday was rather dull for the most part. I sat around in Pizzahead (enforced punishment, I assure you) and scribbled down notes for Nanowrimo. I also juggled dough balls because I was so utterly bored. After that, I went off to a Battle of the Bands that Leigh's girlfriend was organising. It was pretty good, actually. The whole flat attended. There was an amazing band called 'The Anita George Band' who won. Sean and I instantly became groupies.

Meagan drove us home, and we didn't stop cackling the whole way home. We stopped at Maccas and were all utterly confused at what the metal box was saying. James made a lewd comment about being 'ankle deep in Erika' (which wasn't actually initially as filthy as it sounds).

And today, I slept in. Lovely.

I should be watching 'Picnic at Hanging Rock.'

The Green Fairy

It's nearly 4am, and I really should be in bed.

As the story goes, I was convinced to stay and have a drink after work. That drink turned into another glass of wine and a flaming shot of absinth.

My manager was singing showtunes (mainly from Phantom) and in between verses, cacking like an old woman with the bar manager. I laughed so hard that my shoulder dislocated.

A good night.

I'm going to feel like hell in the morning. But no! I must be awake to face Yum Cha. Does anyone want my chicken foot?

Dancing

Compared to yesterday, I'm practically brimming with good cheer. Perhaps it's a combination of a) sleep, b) homework largely done, c) a heap of lovely emails, d) funky music, e) the prospect of several hours of glotzing Buffy before work...

Yes, I would say so.

I've finally finished my fiction piece. I have my sights set on a HD for this one. I actually really need one, or it'll be no honours for me. So, crossing my fingers for that. I fixed up the bibilography from my first assignment, so it'll get pushed into HD land. Excellent.

Editing is finally done. I can't wait to submit that assignment. Aah.

'Do Your Thing' by Basement Jaxx is certainly working its magic! *bounces*

Slagged

I possibly should have held back all of the whining for here instead of mentioning it a hundred times on the board... But still. I am horribly, horribly tired. Next week is going to be absolute shit. All the shifts I can cope with (plus a few more) and homework to finish.

I shall have to make at least two more trips out to Deakin to get assignments handed in, and to borrow books. Urk.

Gah. I don't want to. All I want to do is sleep. Sleep, and watch Buffy. Oh, and a trip to Sweden would be nice, too.

I have a fairy godmother around here, don't I? Oh yes, his name is Marco...

Sparring

I was talking on the phone and watching my computer's screensaver, which is made up of about 500 photos from Paris. This one caught my eye. Isn't this what it was all about? Dinner with Hobblings and watching Jes and Skits torture each other?

New and Improved

Urm, thanks Sky. I went to Blogger help and fixed it in about eight seconds. Does that mean that I can claim to be a Mistress of Technology?

Probably not.

I had some strange, strange dreams last night. Mostly, they were about work, seeing as my shift was absolutely dreadful. People kept coming in from the (Sky, look away) fishing expo that was on next door. We usually close at 12, but people were lining up for tables at 12:35! And they were being let in! God, it was annoying. Everyone was buggered, and at around 12:45 I went all stupid and hysterical because I was so tired. When the last table left, Ness and I threw ice at each other...

Hence, strange dreams. The standard work nightmare became something about a being part of a Special Team to do covert missions about the place. For some reason, it was mostly on Southbank.

Then, I had some really good ideas for stories for my Nanowrimo piece. I'm basically going to have a couple of characters telling each other stories as a framework. That means that the stories within the piece can be anything I like. I'm all enthused. Come on November!

Emma (with title - finally) signing off.

How come I don't have a bar in which to type blog titles? I looked in the FAQ about something else, and I'm supposed to have a bit to type titles into. Well, I don't. Does anyone know what's wrong with this old girl? (The program, not me...) If anyone knows how to fix it, hell, mail me and I'll give you my password, and you can jigger it for me. I'm bloody hopeless at fixing things like that.

I'm in such a good mood! I feel as if there are so many things waiting for me... I guess the end of uni has made me think about what I'm doing next, and I'm seeing so many things to do!

I can do anything I want, right? Become a radio personality, study massage therapy, write freelance pieces, do the odd editing job, create, sing, love, read and do whatever else crosses my mind.

I feel free. Life is beautiful.

What, no comments? For four posts? I'm starting to feel neglected...

The last day of tutes! How exciting. It was all a bit anticlimactic, actually. Well, never mind. We had another run in with the Asian Snack Machine (the ASM) which was eventually sorted. I shall describe the events, because I think it makes a ripper of a yarn. Mate.

So, we arrived early for class, and pumped our change into the ASM, gathering some Pocky and some Asian Bueno. But, the Asian Bueno got stuck! Two of the packets made a nice little wedge shape and refused to budge even with much shoving and kicking of the machine. I actually managed to pick it up a bit and give it a jolly good rattle. Sadly, my efforts were to no avail. We even tried buying a perfectly good cookie to knock out the fearsome wedge, but it merely bounced off! The wedge was power! It was strength! (We managed to knock out a few Asian Buenos anyway, but the wedge stood firm!)

We trudged to class, munching Pocky.

Halfway through our class, we could hear a series of loud thumps. Odd noises are nothing unusual in building P; there's even a pipe that gurgles on regular occasions and sounds rather filthy. We spied several people clustered around the ASM. Our ASM. Our trapped wedge of Asian Bueno! How dare they! But, being good little classmates, we sat and workshopped.

Lo and behold, when we left our last tute ever, the wedge was still there! It couldn't budge for anyone but us, surely!

We kicked, we rocked, we jiggled. We recieved a few words of advice from our tutor, who said 'No, you've got to rock it! Get over the other side, I'll show you!' She suggested buying a drink to knock out the offending wedge.

Brilliant idea. Except for the part where the can got trapped as well.

Our cheers turned to moans that turned back into cheers. The brainless ASM kept pumping out the drinks, which knocked the wedge out of place, sending cascades of AS food into the drawer!

Victory!

Lisa drank the weird Asian Coffee Drink, and felt ill. I could have told her that.

It's the last day of classes. Yesterday, Age and I were walking around a campus that was sunny and bright and full of students lounging on the grass. There was a Red Bull stand playing very loud dance music. There were market stalls dotted up and down Mutant Way (the walkway down the middle of campus). It was lovely.

Well. I still have assginments to hand in. But this does mark the end of an era.

Last year, around 12 of us split a number of bottles of red. There were drunken tutors running about the place, too. We sat and drank for hours in the shady and sunny beer garden at Einsteins. Age stayed sober and drove half of the people home. I remember having one very... interesting Goth girl sitting on my lap. Oh, what a day that was.

I wonder if we'll do anything today? I suspect that people are far too worried about assignments, but surely we have time for a couple of drinks?

I had my last editing class today. How scary.

Tonight, we're eating a huge pork roast that Leigh's got going in the Webber. The smell is driving me mad.

I'm feeling all good about myself for knocking down some homework that isn't due until Friday. Go me.

I got to uni slightly early today, even though there was an accident on the tram tracks (I don't think anyone was hurt) and we had to go way out of our way. I found a friend sitting at one of the computers in the Corner Cafe. We started chatting, and she asked me 'What's your favourite ee cummings poem?' I was touched that she remembered that I liked him, and replied 'Somewhere I have never travelled.'

So, here it is.

'somewhere I have never travlelled...' by ee cummings.

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near
your slightest look will easily unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose
or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing
(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

God, I love this poem. Just thinking about it this morning sent me off into the world of poetry-lust. It's a bit like when a schoolgirl idolises a movie star.

I almost memorised it at one stage. Now I'm reading it again...

*happy sigh*

I have avoided homework so far today. Of course, I really should do it right this instant. It's due on Friday. Not to mention all the rest.

Ah, I am a bad student.

I have 'Miss You Love' stuck in my head.

Well, it's true.

Ah, what a relaxing morning. I keep stopping what I'm doing and going into a sort of daze. Just thinking. I used to do it when I was little, apparantly. People would ask me what was wrong (possibly because I'd finally shut up) but I was just thinking...

I was wondering where a certain script was, actually. I intend to post it here if I find it.

I made the Muse/Silverchair playlist. It's amazing, so I'll post it.

Blackout 4:22 Muse
My Favorite Thing 4:13 Silverchair
Endlessly 3:49 Muse
Miss You Love 4:00 Silverchair
Feeling Good 3:20 Muse
Across The Night 5:37 Silverchair
Without You 5:17 Silverchair
Time Is Running Out 3:56 Muse
Bliss 4:12 Muse
Tuna In The Brine 5:40 Silverchair
Sing For Absolution 4:54 Muse
Luv Your Life 4:29 Silverchair
Falling Away With You 4:40 Muse
World Upon Your Shoulders 4:37 Silverchair
Stockholm Syndrome 4:58 Muse
One Way Mule 4:15 Silverchair
Butterflies & Hurricanes 5:01 Muse
The Greatest View 4:05 Silverchair
Sunburn 3:53 Muse
Too Much Of Not Enough 4:42 Silverchair
New Born 6:02 Muse
After All These Years 9:55 Silverchair

Perfect. Now, add 'In my pants' to them all.

'Unintended' - Muse

You could be my unintended
Choice to live my life extended
You could be the one I'll always love
You could be the one who listens to my deepest inquisitions
You could be the one I'll always love

I'll be there as soon as I can
But I'm busy mending broken pieces of the life I had before

First there was the one who challenged
All my dreams and all my balance
She could never be as good as you

You could be my unintended
Choice to live my life extended
You should be the one I'll always love

I'll be there as soon as I can
But I'm busy mending broken pieces of the life I had before

I'll be there as soon as I can
But I'm busy mending broken pieces of the life I had before

Before you

-----

A song I've had in my head all day. Beautiful.

I had a horrible nightmare this morning. There was something in the house. Our toilet was sudden filled with ravings, scribbed all over the place. I sent Anna to check and she said it was there, too. Then it was gone. I aked her about it, and she said something about a demon filling the house and exposing all of the sin within it. I asked how she knew, and she said that the demon had persued her.

I woke slowly, as if I was being poured into myself. My body felt numb. The name of the demon was on my lips, and I was frozen. It's gone now, of course.

I believe that this dream was a continuation of one I had a few years ago. That strange link was enough to scare me even more, as for a moment, I did not know what was real.

I did a NaNoWriMo test last night. I sat down and typed as fast as I could for about twenty minutes. It was all stream of conciousness, and made no sense. It's the sort of thing I'd do to get started on a piece. To get the mind going. I managed just over 2000 words in that twenty minutes. Not bad, I thought. I suppose that 'the novel' is going to have to be slightly more coherant than that, but it certainly bodes well.

Silverchair seems to be quite good writing music, but I knew that already. I'm going to make a Silverchair/Muse playlist for 'deep thought mood.'

It's my second last week of classes this week. I know that it's normal to freak out over that, seeing as almost every third-year I know is wandering around with a slightly panicky look on their face. But, my god. I thought the end of high school was a freak out. At least I had uni to cling to desperately.

Does this mean I'll have to work full time? I don't think my lazy, Arts student body can cope with that! Early mornings, for a start...

I feel like doing a panicky little dance and waving my hands like Homer Simpson.

Calm blue ocean. Calm blue ocean... Breathe...

Rightio. I suspect that I've lured a few more people into doing Nanowrimo. Ah, but I need people to suffer along side me! 2000 words a day, though... Thank god it doesn't have to make sense. I can just type and type and yell at my flatmates to turn their loud punk music down and type and type.

I'm thinking of compiling a Nanowrimo playlist. Definately some Muse and Silverchair for those classic 'I'm ever so arty and lost in my work' moods, and something upbeat and funky for the 'Isn't this great! I'm being creative!' moods.

Grah. Someone tell me what to do next. I'll just keep having a panic attack while I wait.

Has anyone seen my paper bag?

Arse. This stupid computer just ate my very merry post about how much of a good day I was having. Bloody IE.

As I was saying...

I've had a really good day! Up early and bouncing around the place... Had a fantastic class at uni full of discussion that we got to show off to an interviewer for Channel 31. Hot chocolate in the sunshine with classmates and tutor. Music all the way back to the city. Max Brenner with old uni friend...

Work tonight, but I'm in a good enough mood not to care. Should be fun, actually.

Right, so now I'm doing it. Nanowrimo. I must be crazy.

I also can't figure out how to get the logo on my blog.

Someone help... HTML doesn't make any sense to me!

Keppet's Milestone post is making me think about five-year-old me. I suppose I was a happy little child. I certainly seemed to fit into my classes well. On the first day of class, I walked across the school crossing outside of my house, Mum's hand in mine. After sprawling amongst the gravel at the front gate (I had battle-scars to show off, I was happy) she took a photo. There I am, standing in front of the school with a 'Happy Little Vegemite' t-shit and pigtails. And of course, bloodied knees.

I have one vivid memory of sitting in the classroom holding a crayon. I was so little that my head barely reached to the top of the back of the seat. I remember drawing outside of the lines, and arguing that we were going to cut that bit off anyway. I remember asking my teacher 'why?' when she asked us to draw a picture of God. After conferring with my neighbour (as I had no idea) I scribbled a man in blue robes. He had big grandpa ears and glasses.

I know I learned to write before Primary school, because my Mum taught me. I can still remember the first time I painted my name in big red letters at Kindy. The 'E' had far too many horizontal strokes.

I think I'm sick. I was up until 5am last night with a pain in my stomach. It almost feels like monthly cramps, but it's not the right time for those, so...

I don't know. I felt better this morning, although I felt as if I had been up all night drinking Tequila.

I am part of a new tradition. Every week on a Wednesday, I meet my uni friends at our pub. At one o'clock, we order lunch. It's usually the classless Parma and fries. We're all happy with that. After consuming our lunch and glaring at first-years, we trek to Building P, the building that they constructed for the homeless Arts students after their old campus, Rusden, fell apart in a freak storm.

Is within Building P that the Asian snack machine exists. There are quite a few around campus, but this particular machine is the source of our fascination. Coins permitting, we sample something from the Asian snack machine every week. Last week, it was Pressed Coconut Juice for L. I had the relatively safe Pocky the week before. This week, it was some white chocolate biscuit thing for me (we nicknamed it the Asian Bueno) and Roast Pressed Coconut Juice for L. It made her sick, as the Pressed Coconut Juice had done the week before.

'Stop drinking it!' I whispered at her in class.

'Shut up!' she retorted, chewing chunks of coconut.

Ten minutes later... 'Em... I'm sick...'

Damn that vending machine. Oh, and the inside of the tray part feels like a squishy brain.

The show last night was one of the best, even though we played a bit of show media early. Never mind that! We got easily 50 text messages, around 25 in the last half hour. Or more. It makes me blush to think of how many were drooling over either Shane's or my voice. Well, I can hardly help it, can I?

And alas, I had to turn down a marriage proposal from a listener. Shame, really.

Then, it was home for an extremely lovely phone call. Ah, I love Ash so much.

I read 'Surrender' until 2am. Sonya Hartnett's books are always a headfuck. Damn her, and her poetic style.

I'm drunk. Should be in bed. But I'm online. Why? I suppose I wanted to talk some crap.

Never mind.

I was dancing with my eyes half closed, anyway.

Sleep, now.