Buzzed

Eeeee! *hides* I have had just about enough of these fucking wasps flying into the apartment and terrorising me. This whole country is full of the little fuckers! You can't even walk down the street without them descending upon you in a swarm!

I hate them, I hate them, I hate them!

I have a thick IKEA catalogue to use in my defense, and I shall not hesitate.

Fucking wasps!

TechnoGeek

Ooh, this is coooool.

And, of course, shamelessly stolen from the board. Well, a link that was on the board. But it is just so cool that I have to feature it here, too, because I would love one of these babies:


Yep, it's an projected keyboard. Here's a link to the proper site. The part of me that gets far too excited about cool technology is drooling over this.

Emma at the Crossroads Again

I think I'm wigging out.

I've sat down to do a rough draft of the application essays for the radio course at Swinburne, and I've decided to have a bit of a freak out about it.

I just don't know if this is what I should be doing! All year I've been torn between going back to Deakin to add honours to my degree and striking out into new territory to do a year of radio production. But... Argh! Is it what I really want to do? I don't know! I'm sorely tempted to go ahead and do radio, because I'm sure that it will be entertaining as well as educational and I could see myself in the radio industry...

But is that right for me? Even after a year off to think about where I'm going with regards to education and indeed, the rest of my life, I'm not sure at all. Oh, sure I could write while I'm studying and try to sell short stories to various magazines, or even get a novel going while I'm running around doing everything else. But I just don't know!

I've felt enormously drained when it comes to writing all year. I've managed a few short stories here and there, but I have not managed near to what I thought I would. All this free time to write... and very little is coming to me. In truth, I think I was far more inspired when I was studying full time and working my arse off at Automatic, as well as trying to be a social individual. My brain has gotten lazy and under stimulated.

Besides, I'm not going to be convinced that I'm a good enough writer to 'make it' until my future agent thumps down a copy of my book in print and ready to go. Oh sure, I'm a fair writer. I can string a story together. But I really, honestly doubt that I have that kick that sets truly wonderful writers apart. Even after my study of the craft. Even after reading more than a novel a week almost my entire life since I was eight years old.

So if I'm not good enough (and I will never be convinced that I am) then is radio the way to go? Possibly. I'm sure it would be more fun than sitting in an office day in day out. And I could write on the side.

So? I'm still wigging out. Maybe it's the part of me that has been travelling and escaped responsibility not wanting to go back. Or maybe, I just don't know.

Old Friends, Far Away

I haven't had much to post about lately, I've been extremely boring while Ash has been on holiday, aside from my exciting trip to Stockholm.

Back home, it was the farewell ceremony for a good friend of the family, Randall Percy. He was born in Ireland, but lived in my tiny little former home town, Chewton for many years. I used to love his accent when I was little. He always had something for the kids to do when we came around to visit. He even gave me a whole lot of kitchen things when I moved out of home. He was the one who contributed to the Brunswick Road household the disreputable rug that was in our lounge. (Forever soaking up kicked over drinks and collector of cat and Erika hair...)

Half of his ashes were scattered over in Ireland, half were scattered in Chewton. At the ceremony, they passed around a bottle of whiskey.

I'll miss him. Here's to Randall, and his little dog Poag.

Solo in Stockholm

Today I wandered around Stockholm all by myself. I love that I know the city well enough to do so. One of my favourite things in the world is to lose myself in a city environment. Melbourne used to work well enough, especially as I knew it so well, but Stockholm is much more exciting, as I'm even more anonymous and can get lost if I'm not paying attention to where I'm going. Besides, there are so many places that I haven't explored yet.

It makes me feel so free and independent to traverse a foreign city all by myself. I love having time to go and look at things on a whim and eat wherever I want and do whatever I please. It gives me a kick. I love the feeling of being one tiny person in a big city, part of the flow, anonymous and able to wander about wherever I want to.

I ended up getting in earlier than I thought, finding the cinema in Hötorget (massive square in the middle of the city) and getting both my ticket and lunch and then wandering the square. There's a massive market every day, I think. Heaps of fruit stalls and plenty of fake Gucci handbags. I got a punnet of raspberries for the movie and then discovered a free photography exhibition in the Konserthuset.

The photography was stunning, I was completely enthralled. Everything was in Swedish, but it didn't matter. The pictures spoke for themselves. There were a series on the New Orleans floods, several portraits and one sequence that almost overwhelmed me. There were six or seven photos of a young boy, who was obviously ill. The photos seemed almost random. There was a photo of him laying asleep in bed with his sister, I'm assuming, curled up next to him. One of him being injected with something. Several of him in a hospital bed. One taken at the moment of his death, I think. The anguish on the faces was devastating. And then, one of his casket. I started crying, even though I couldn't read the piece next to the photos.

I've decided that as soon as I can afford it, I'm buying a decent camera and getting back into photography. I studied it in year 12, and did fairly well at it. It'll be annoying to not have a darkroom, but I'm sure I can play with digital manipulation enough to keep me satisfied. The whole way back to the cinema and home I was taking mental pictures.

After that, I saw Superman Returns. What can I say about that? It was OK, I suppose. Not really exciting and not terrible. There were a few plot holes that I noticed, but I usually take movies like that as able to 'break the rules' so it doesn't annoy me nearly as much as it would normally.

I feel so much more confident now with interacting with the Swedes. I've realised that it's fine that I don't speak Swedish. Everyone is happy to speak English as soon as they realise I'm a tourist. Also, I usually ask if they speak English before I say anything else. It saves me getting horribly embarrassed because I can say hello, and they assume I speak the language. I'm also always careful to thank people for speaking English. Hey, they don't have to. And besides, I appreciate it.

Wow, there's a lengthy post. If you've made it this far, thanks for reading.

Ideas? Anyone?

So. I need a topic for my next podcast. Yeah, I've been really slack with them, mainly because I haven't been able to think of anything to feature. I have a rather cool song that I have permission to use that I'd like to share with everyone, but I can't for the life of me come up with anything interesting.

Thoughts? Ideas? Requests, even?

I've done stuff I miss, stuff that's different, Swedish food, Swedish oddities and the fact that everything is expensive. Oh, and one more that I can't remember.

This is where you recall how professional my setup is. Hey, at least I got a new microphone so it doesn't buzz like hell...

Some Strings

Yes, I know I'm a complete nerd. Thanks for pointing that out.

Meanwhile, have a listen to some of these.

Because strings are pretty, especially when they're playing my favourite songs.

The Spark

When I get a new idea for a piece of writing, it feels almost like I'm watching some show on TV or reading a book that has some horribly complicated plot, and I've just worked out what's going to happen. It's a smooth, bright feeling that comes with an inaudible mental 'Ah ha!' as if the idea was like liquid metal that finally found the right shape to harden into.

I'm being a wanker, aren't I?

Still, that little tingling rush of knowledge gives me such a kick. The only thing that's better is when I'm trying to think of a spectacular ending, but coming up with nothing, then something magically coming to me that makes me gloat about how smart I am for thinking of it. Of course, all that gloating happens in my head. I try to look merely faintly smug when I'm getting it down on paper or on the screen before it runs away. It's sort of like trying to remember the name of that band, or who used to drive that car. It's the faintly annoyed mental circling around an idea before you finally remember the words to the song or the name of the actor you were looking for. Except it's not a memory, rather it's the perfect twist or a poetic last line or just the right title.

I wonder if I could prove that an endorphin rush happens at exactly the same time?

Spacemonkey and Flyboy

God help me. I've started reading this again.

But, hee, it's just so damn funny. And dirty. But look how cute they are together in the photo!

(Warning, link is to filthy slash, and should not be read by anyone...)

The Meet

Everyone else has pretty much said everything that I wanted to say about the whole meet experience, although I do have a couple of photos to share. In short, I had a really brilliant time! It's so good seeing the Brits again! Especially as meets with them seem to be meet, go silly, participate in activity, get pissed. (As opposed to Australian ones, where getting drunk and going nuts is pretty much all we do... Hee...)

And it was awesome staying at Sky's place. Damn, I love that house. Very cool meeting her man, too. Teignmouth is indeed a pretty town, even though I know that if I grew up there with nothing to do, I would have gone crazy. (Or started a rock band and made millions of dollars... oh wait, that was Muse...) There were heaps of tourists there, too. (Is grockles the local term?) Anyway, the very best thing about Teignmouth was the curry. Mmm, the curry. I shall dream about that wonderful curry (and Cobra beer, which I've never tried before and have decided that I love.)

It was also excellent to get to play with Myst and Hoot. They're such wonderful dogs. (Especially when they want something, of course.) Ash wants a dog now, and she was a cat person before. Mwhaha.

Right, so some photos.

Teignmouth beach.




And some Hobblings on parade:




Oh look, someone knew I was coming:




And then the mp3 player come out... Pity I couldn't get a photo of them singing along. Oh yes, and did I mention that I think Skit's new haircut suits her? The student in me wants to make her put some little bits of colour into it. The proper adult in her said no, I need to go to important meetings. Damn.



Anyway, that's pretty much all of the photos that I took. Well, the good ones, anyway. (I've left off several of people looking less than wonderful. If you could see them, you'd thank me...)

So yes, we pretty much caught the bus to London, then printed out the next ticket we needed, had a cheap steak and chips from a handy pub, then had nightmare delays getting to Stansted.

I have this huge big rant about that, but I'll do that later. The short version: It's not so fucking bad, and I'd rather be searched than killed, so stop fucking whining about waiting in a line for an extra five minutes.

Charming language, there. Anyway, Hobbmeet was fun, am very much looking forward to NY and the shenanigans that will ensue.

Kilts, Sparkles and Too Much Cock

Hmm, I think my Mum/cousin reads this, so pretend that filthy word in the title is a hilarious acronym. Go on, it's easy. There.

The official site with lots of pictures is here. You can switch it to English if it comes up in Swedish.

Here's one:



So, Ash and I went along to the Stockholm Pride March the other day. As soon as we got there, I realised that I wasn't wearing anything colourful or covered in sparkles, which seemed to be a standard. Whoops. I guess the faded Nanowrimo t-shirt isn't terribly festive. There were many, many wild and wacky characters about the place, including (but not limited to) :

• A troupe of guys wearing scanty kilts covered in sparkles (one who looked extremely familiar, although I couldn't place him) who ran around flashing the crowd as we marched down the streets of Stockholm. I should have glanced away, but no, I saw... it. Several times. Give me a shudder.
  
• A supposedly famous drag queen who was dressed in white, and who kept posing as she walked. At one point, she smushed Ash into her breasts for a bunch of people taking photos. Hee.
• A couple of Malaysian ladyboys decked out like peacocks with huge feathery capes. Actually, there may have been a woman in there, as one of them had a lone feather taped to each nipple.
• A score of girls walking around with masking tape over their nipples and shorts, nothing else. One of them had the tape on her back instead...
• A truck full of people stripped to the waist and painted bright red, dancing to Eurovision songs while blowing bubbles.
• A girl with massive angel wings riding around on a white horse.
  
• A pretty blonde girl in a long green dress with beautiful eye make-up like butterfly wings covering all around her eyes. Very cool.
• A gaggle (or is it a yarr?) of pirate folk. There were a couple of very convincing Jack Sparrows. Brilliant stuff. They were singing chanties in the park before we left.

Of course there were thousands upon thousands of people just walking in the parade, waving rainbow flags and generally having a good time. It was my very first pride march (I always had to bloody work when Midsumma was on in Melbourne) and I had a brilliant time watching everything happen.

Pity it was stinking hot and my tooth was rather sore. We ducked out towards the end and went for a kebab.

Ooh! A photo with us in it! (We think...) Ok, so you'll have to blow this one up.




Here's a final image for you. (This one is Ash's favourite.) Hee hee.

Make Me Better, Spidey!

Heh heh heh. Ok, so I'm still in rather large amounts of pain, but this makes me laugh.

Spidey got some ac-tion. Woooo.

At Least She Played Good Music

So, the dentist. Oh, the dentist. She really was a very cool dentist, actually. And her assistant was also very nice, and translated things, which I was more than happy to have happen...

If you're new to this sanguine saga, I shall fill you in. For a few days, I had a weird pressure in/under my front bottom teeth. I rather thought it was wisdom teeth pushing things around, but it's actually a nasty infection that somehow got under the root of my tooth.

How? No idea. Apparently it's extremely rare to have an infection right under there. Lucky me. So, yesterday they filed a bit off the offending tooth, hoping that it was just pressure making it all swollen and yucky. Alas, no. The infection had gotten much much worse overnight, so they decided to 'open it up.'

This was when I started crying. I couldn't help it! I was horrified at the thought of them getting under my entire tooth to drive out an infection. The dentist was nice, though, and let Ash hold my hand the whole time. She numbed me up (needle was the worst part, actually) and drilled and blasted her way into the infected zone. Sounds awful, but actually not painful at all, thanks to dead nerves. Hooray! Nothing to writhe about in agony! Am happy that horrible mystery infection at least had the decency to kill off the painful bits.

So, when the dentist was jabbing metal spikes and pins into me, it didn't hurt. When she was injecting antibiotic into the nerve, it didn't hurt. And, when she levered up my tooth to get into the infection, it also didn't hurt. It did, however, feel weird and wrong. And now the gums around my tooth are all sore from the levering.

But all in all, it could have been much much much much worse. It was even a decent amount. Only $60, which isn't the horror story I thought it was. Next time (to remove temporary filling and put in a proper one) might be worse with the money, but insurance should definitely cover it.

Can't eat for 2 hours though. Should have had more than a banana for breakfast. Hungry! And in a bit of pain. Ah well, next time should be easy, as she measured everything and sorted it out.
Oh, and you probably shouldn't have read that if you're squeamish. Eh, sorry.

A Curious Day

Today was rather weird. We had to get up at 8am to ring the dentist to try to find me an appointment (Ash to ring and me to be sympathetic - I wasn't about to try to organise anything in Swedish, or embarrassed English at 8am) and therefore we were tired all day. Boo.

I did, however, manage an extremely Swedish morning. I lingered in the IKEA bed to read the freshly-delivered IKEA catalogue, then had Swedish hardbread for breakfast. Ok, so I had Vegemite, too... anyway, we ran out the door to get to the Historical Museum before it closed.

That was rather cool, actually. And here's a bullet point list of what we got up to, because I'm feeling... bullet-pointy. So, we:

• Wandered around looking at rusty viking impliments and jewellery.
• Went down into the very secure Gold Room to raise our eyebrows over some serious shiny stuff, including a massive golden challace as big as my head.
  
• Had a go at carving runes with a hammer and chisel. Not as easy as you would suspect. I now have respect for the carvers. Bloody lot of effort, really.
• Checked out the Mayan stuff. It wasn't very good, actually, they hardly had anything at all. They tried to disguise it with a big flashy role-play game, but it was patronising and boring.
  

And last, but certainly most amusing...

• I got stuck in a bloody mail shirt! There were a bunch of kids playing in the armour that had outside, and I thought it was a brilliant idea to put a shirt on... Following the interesting mail experience Jes and I had at the Tower of London gift shop. Heh. Anyway, it was really heavy. Really heavy. I was just putting it on when I thought that it would be a tight fit... and it was... and they're not designed for people with breasts... So, in short, it was like trying to take off three soaked woolen jumpers. Not much fun. Eventually, with Ash helping, I managed to pull it over my head, but still! Gah.

So, then we went and ate some dodgy but cheap pasta and had a Maccas strawberry pie for dessert. While we were eating them in the park near Södra, we watched a bunch of skaters trying to grind a massivce handrail. One guy managed it a couple of times, before falling off twice and landing square on his balls. Hee hee hee.

And then! We were walking to the train station when this woman walks past with her arse hanging out! She was wearing a t-shirt, and a wrap thing around her waist (like a belt) but her whole arse was sticking out the bottom! And she was wearing a g-string! And she was flabby! Not a pretty sight. Not by a long shot.

Oh yes, I was pissed off with myself for not drying my iPod properly after we got caught in a serious deluge last night. (Soaked to the skin! Everything in my bag was damp, including my passport! Argh!) The headphones had fucked up, and I was bitching about having to replace them. But, in the end, they worked OK. Thank god, because the dentist is going to be bloody expensive.

And hopefully, not painful at all. Aaaaargh.