secret: the writing of a letter

another podcast from me, this one hit the 15 minute mark I'm afraid. but it does have some handy tips on writing letters.

it's also quiet - I might have been a bit far from the mic. I will work on it.



while you listen to me chatter, here are some pictures of the kind of bits and pieces I use for writing letters.

                                       

                                     

                                    

treasure: taking stock

Pip Lincolne of Meet Me At Mikes posted a Taking Stock post today and I thought I'd play along.

Playing along is getting me back into the swing of things, that's for sure.

Making : study for my accounting exam a Priority (gah)
Cooking : easy summer foods, like delicious salads with purple cabbage in them
Drinking : champagne, to celebrate my new job!
Reading: Ghost World by Daniel Clowes, Best of Lifted Brow vol. 1, Intimate Ephemera: Reading Young Lives in Australian Zine Culture by Anna Poletti
Wanting: more time! have packing and studying to do, lots in a short amount of time.
Looking: for private health insurance (2014: the year I do grown up things)
Playing: Sia's Elastic Heart from the Catching Fire soundtrack over and over
Deciding: how to spend my Australia Day weekend
Wishing: to somehow skip the next month of craziness and just have it all sorted and dealt with
Enjoying: cold beers from the New England Brewing Company on the weekend just passed
Waiting: to start a new job
Liking: exploring my wardrobe before I pack it up to move
Wondering: when it will start cooling down again??
Loving: double rainbows on Sunday afternoons
Pondering: my next set of feminist friday blog posts
Considering: another cup of coffee
Watching: Girls season 3 interspersed with Gossip Girl season 4 interspersed with Stuck in Love
Hoping: that my run of good things continues
Marvelling: at how fast January has passed me by
Needing: a big clean out of my wardrobe before I move
Smelling: 'lovely' by sarah jessica parker - mum's latest favourite perfume
Wearing: a pink and purple vintage dress (see thursday's post, when it comes)
Following: conversation on my cousin's Facebook about this article
Noticing: the weight lifted from my shoulders now I'm not staring down unemployment!
Knowing: that I am going to drink cold beer when I get home
Thinking: about how delicious homegrown grapes are when they come straight from the fridge
Feeling: hot and a bit bothered
Admiring: Cate Blanchett
Sorting: email to keep from the SPAM of it all
Buying: zines from Take Care Zine Distro
Getting: thirsty for coffee... iced coffee, maybe
Bookmarking: junkee.com
Disliking: again, the heat. c'mon, summer... I'm done with you! I only like you when I get to lay on the beach, or drink frosty beverages on the deck
Opening: farewell gifts from swedish ladies
Giggling: at Clem Ford's latest awesomeness
Feeling: filled to the brim with plans and anticipation for 2014!

30daypictureschallenge: Day 20, 21, 22, 23 & 24

here are 5 photos from today. I cheat a little, yes, for these are not different days, but they are different photos. that much is for sure.

and it goes a little somethin' like this:

breakfast wholesomeness // me, modelling my new haircut (which is pretty much the old haircut with less split ends and a fringe cut by a professional) // holidays on ice by david sedaris, tomorrow's bookclub book and a gigglefest through my lunchbreak today // the afternoon sun out my bedroom window // the tea paraphernalia required for writing, my sweetawesome thrifted tablecloth and my current writing set up..

there's something about distilling the beauties of your day into photographs that I rather enjoy. 

secret: creative brain fry, or, the fine art of pottering

i don't know about you folks, but when i have a lot of things on my plate (not literally, although i do love a good full plate of thanksgiving dinner) my creative will to live just disappears out the window.

when i finally do have a night off, and i have to say i haven't had one in a while, i need some decompression time, in the form of pottering. i thought i'd share the sorts of things that happen during a pottering session in my lovely (chaotic) space.

music debrief:

i've had a few "must listens" floating about lately on my ever-expanding list of things to listen to. thanks to a music-loving friend with whom i share many great favourites, i was reminded that a certain amount of time has passed since i'd listened to some of my all-time bestest favourites, namely Radiohead and Elliott Smith. I'm really digging this particular track from Elliott:



and OK Computer reminiscence (let's face it: Radiohead in general) lead me right to this beautiful thing that i once was able to play on piano, harder than you'd imagine.



i also have quite a lot of live footage to watch from my all time favourite thing i've found on YouTube so far, tiny desk concerts via NPR. crazy into The National at the moment, and so this show has pretty much given me the feeling where the world opens up and you fall in love, right down to your little toe.



apologies for the music-heavy sharing, but i just can't get enough of this at the moment. so of course, it's time to make my november Maude the Mazda Mix (they are famous, but only in very tight circles of maybe 2 people, one of which is me... the other is one of my brothers, whichever one is handy).

YouTube giggles

my YouTube dirty pleasure is interviews on ellen, mostly when it's ryan gosling. i recommend you look that up, the one in onesies in particular.

besides this, i also like to watch standup comedy from such greats as dylan moran and louis ck.





Pretty things

i am a bowerbird when it comes to pretty things. sometimes, when i'm pottering, i like to arrange my pretty stuff that i own into aesthetically pleasing combinations.

all of the favourites, but of particular note is the sweet 'hello' necklace from the awesome anna at The Eclective, the sweet and special 'imaginary lovers' zine from deerface, and my granny's old copy of Alice in Wonderland

sometimes, i like to just sit in my chair and rifle through books i haven't actually read yet, looking forward to having time to read them. 

this weekend just passed i had a great score from a book stall at the local steiner school's spring fair, and the illustrations are so much lovelier than disney characters. don't get me wrong, i love the disney classics, i'm just a bit bored of what disney thinks people look like.

Writing notes and letters, and finding old things I wrote once

i found this recently. a thing i scrawled into the back of a notebook long ago, when i still lived in melbourne and longed to escape whatever it was at that point that held me there:

i have a fantasy about swimming in an open air pool at night time in summer. this fantasy is so tangible to me that i wonder if it may in fact have happened once, a dormant memory of sliding into a pool the temperature of my warm arms, the weightlessness of my previously cumbersome body, sounds echoing off the water.
surely it has happened, at one time, to somebody; how else could we know how it feels to swim at night? the cocoon of water closing over and into my ears, the smell, or imagined smell, of warm jasmine blowing overhead all through Brunswick.
i can hear my own gasping breath as i pull to the surface each 4th stroke, and i feel my heart hammering. why must my words end here? for suddenly, the warm summer night is lost to the absence that is you my dear, and all i remember is floating, face down, with night city noises filtering through the pool water.

i write postcards and letters to the friends of far away that i am missing lots lately, perhaps because i get to see them again soon.


these are the things i do o a quiet quiet Monday night. and find new artists to fall in love with, again on YouTube (such a magical place).

i leave you with a beautiful tattooed man whom i shall perhaps one day meet and marry.

secret: the end of the world, or Day 16 of 30pictureschallenge

in Australia in summer it is inevitable that things burn. tonight, somewhere near Armidale, there is a fire- with a bit of a wind, the streets are full of smoke. on dusk, it seems as though the town is almost empty. it truly feels like a post-apocalyptic reality. me and Maude are making our slow way up the hill to home (she's too keen for second gear and not quite sharp enough to take advantage of third up these hills, i never really know what to do with her). i half expect newspapers blowing past us with headlines increasingly threatening and bleak, like the movies.

my favourite post-apocalyptic movies are those like i am legend, children of men, 28 days later or city of ember, or even the island (which might be a little bit about scarlett and ewan). the anarchist inside of me likes watching societies fall apart (it doesn't have to be a nuclear holocaust, just a good old-fashioned dissolution of the powers that be). i like seeing who takes the lead, who the scriptwriters and directors think is worthy of the power.

because i'm a feminist, i'm particularly interested in what sort of female figures our scriptwriters have imagined. it's interesting how sometimes, the roles of women don't change at all, as though that's too hard to imagine, even though when you're making stuff up you can imagine anything you like.

once upon a time, i wanted to write my honours thesis about the role of women in post-apocalyptic literature. now, i really really wish i had done it. i could go back and do it sometime, you know. i wanted to write about isobelle carmody's obernewtyn series, and margaret atwood's the handmaid's tale. even thinking about this now makes me want to write a blog a billion words long.

for now, i imagine myself roaming the world in my trusty van (who goes forever and never ever breaks down because she's old enough there are no computers in her and i can fix her with my somehow-acquired mechanical skill....). stay safe out there kids. safe from fires, safe from smoke, and safe from zombies.

treasure: the fine art of “winning at Melbourne”

Taken on arrival in Parkville, on the way to the uni. Effects added for, well, effect.

The thing about Armidale is, I didn’t always live there. My first 5-odd years of adulthood were passed in Melbourne, as a broke Arts student. In amongst the drama, angst and excitement of it all, I made my place in the city.

So when I go back, not only does it mean that I already know how to brace myself if I’m standing on a moving tram, but (more importantly) I have all these wonderful people to see, hug and giggle with while consuming inordinate amounts of coffee and having the conversations of our lives.

The way these folk love and care for me is always a beautiful surprise; sometimes I feel very out of the way from things in little Armidale, so it is nice to be met with such happiness. I've visited 3 times already this year, and I’ve realised it’s about quality time. Less stress is key.

I arrived Tuesday afternoon. People watching/admiring at University of Melbourne turned into talking about growing into my own personal feminism with Bethany. As well as feasting on African deliciousness, we took in a midweek Alt J show, shortly followed by a lot of 'I'm an old bastard' complaining about our legs and backs from being on our feet so long. Uber-hip, us kids is.

Come Wednesday morning, I snuck off to breakkie at Pope Joan in Brunswick, and awkwardly held Mat and Tash’s newest Louis- btw Tash, “just hold him like a football” is not the best advice for someone that’s never held a football. I lunched and talked love life with the very handsome Dave Barry and pretty-face Bethany on-campus (feeling like a quasi-student), got to see Dave's office building with the moving doors (things are so fancy in Melbourne), laughed, love and got gifted the bestest happy socks ever in the city with Thea (plus heard about her new dentist!) and moved along to Fitzroy-side to sample Bourbons while solving some commonly-held problems of the world with lovely lovely Laila. I also got a sneak-peak at what she looks like when she’s inside a doona case, and not everyone has that privledge. Let me just say it was funny, but also important.

ALL of the bourbons ... Bookers is best, by the way.

 Thursday brought Green Refectory breakkie and opshop gold with Mr Michael Hanley; a Canadian film for Melbourne International Film festival with McGregor, followed by tasty beers and tomfoolery at the bar with Yanni, and beef pho at 9:30pm with Beth, not a little full of beer.

Friday the weather turned windy and wet; perfect for breakfast with the lovely Sarah, an advanced screening of The Bling Ring at Cinema Nova and a late lunch with Vaughan Circus (the name my brain files him under) at A Minor Place, home of cute bespecled waiters and tasty, tasty haloumi-eggplant combinations.

Happily, the hot waiter vibe continued at our spectacular Friday night dinner on Smith Street with Aaron, Ned, Bethany and lovely friends; sadly, Hot Italian Waiter’s preference for men limited our chances to run away together, but he did recommend a delicious wine and provide witty, Italian-accented banter in a most adept fashion.

Bethany and I left the boys to pop into Bar Etiquette for more of that Yanni-tainment and a few drinks, passing a little more time with Mr McG before falling into bed. Saturday brought a rather late breakfast with Sylvia, a Vietnamese coffee dragging me into a state of articulation necessary for covering feminism, blind dates, Tina Fey, the romantic failings of our various men, curling and the beard of Sylvia’s new favourite economics reporter. Bethany and I window-shopped me into the conclusion that I would have to check some luggage on the flight home. I hit it big at opshops and bookshops this visit; a whole bag full, and I’m not even sorry.

My final night in Melbournetown was spent with Mat, Tash, Iggy and Louis. There was Kake di Hatti (my favourite Indian takeaway request)- garlic naan worthy of breaking my stance on gluten, and spicy tasty curry combinations. Also featured: cheeky pots at Atticus Finch and organic Tasmanian cider. I got to hold Louis again and look more casual about it. He even cracked a smile for me the next morning!

The thing is, all the chats and giggles that filled the visit were real ones, heartfelt and happy. The one-on-ones gave us all a chance to remember why we loved each other, and a sense of where we’re all at. The roughness of the past 6 months had diminished into the background, and so I got to think about someone other than myself a bit and I tell you, I love the lot of ya.

Until next time, Melbournetown.

I heart Green Refectory coffee

treasure: sleepover at Kate and Phill's house

Bunkbeds: so much more room for activities.

treasure: the young people, or, musings on what a hipster might be & wondering if I am one

I'm writing my first essay for my Advertising unit on Gen Y (and possibly more specifially, hipsters; that's if I can manage to find an academic text to reference... hipsters are too cool to have academics reduce them to their signifying parts I guess) and advertising, and it's got me thinking about the kids these days.

According to the Australian Bureau of Statistics, Gen Y are those born between 1983 and 2000. So the last of the generation with whom I am grouped is turning 13 this year. It's hard to know how to separate this out, given that I am turning 28 this year and unfortunately am not quite sure what I might talk to a 13 year old about. I'd have a red-hot crack though; I seem to be able to converse with my step-sister Holly, although I do suspect I'm only just skating by on cool points by being an older female person who she doesn't live with. Not that it's all about cool points, but you know, I like them to accrue when at all possible.

Teenagers are a law unto themselves in any case. The section of the population that I rest slightly uneasy with is the people in their early twenties, filled with idealism and a very overt sense of self (to mask the crippling doubt, I know this from experience), all wearing skinny leg jeans and having heard of bands I will not hear of for another 2 or 3 years, and who seem to be able to pull off wearing hats in a way I only dream of. Yes, I know exactly how this makes me sound:

It might be because I don't look good in skinny jeans. It might be because trying to keep up with trends and the whatnot is too anxiety-inducing for me to make a commitment to it. I'm somewhat on board; I have many devices (it sounds suspect when I just come out and say it), I have like, some really cool apps on my iPad and iPhone, I use the Facebook, I instagram pictures of my dinner/drinks/self/social events often. I like all the technological treats available to me in 2013, and treat them with the appropriate amount of respect and panic. 

I made this with at least 3 different iPhone photo apps. I have the skills!

The thing is, I'm not sure a hipster is so easily defined, especially in our little town where trends from the big city get a bit bastardised on their way to our wardrobes. It's probably not accurate to say that all people wearing skinny jeans are hipsters; it's probably not fair to put folk in a category (or 'subculture', a term I shall bandy about in this darned essay) based on the fact they're just a little more up to date with music than me.

I have two friends called Ellie and they have both offered up (unknowingly, but very helpfully) their own definitions: Ellie S refers to the general population of Melbourne as 'mods', which I love, and Ellie P admits feeling a certain disdain for those who have good accessories. These seem a little vague, but really, I suspect that's how the hipsters sneak by us; their undefinable qualities. It's fair to admit that I'm jealous of their accessories, and this includes boots and hats. It's fair to say that I feel left behind in a way that is too difficult to put the effort in to 'catch up', whatever that might mean. Sometimes I wear accessories, but mostly I forget about them because I'm busy. Accessories are a weekend thing, when I have the time.



I've realised I've grown out of wondering if I'm right, of liberally believing that everyone's opinions are equally valid (because I'm sorry, but they're not), of caring what people think besides myself (after all, it's my opinions I have to live with, and me I have to impress). And maybe that's why I'm never going to quite be a hipster, no matter how hard I try. Maybe it's only a very small part of me left over from those early, heady years of faux certainty as a young adult, a very small part that wishes I'd heard of a band before everyone else liked them.

Anyhow, the real point is, writing this essay is going to be tricky. I wonder, what do you guys think makes a hipster? Can people older than 30 (Gen X and beyond) be hipsters? Is it an attitude, or is it accessory choices?

treasure: oh, Canada!

so listen: I'm just going to come right out and say it.

there are days when it rains a lot and you have a headache and generally, it turns out, you're failing a little bit at life. 90% of the time, I love my life. the other 10% i think, damn I wish I'd stayed in Canada.

today is Canada Day, and I'm too far away to be able to get my hands on some Clamato juice for Caesars, or $10 worth of wings at Crystal, or wedges with the infamous Butt-Rub mayo from Dusty's. No Eggs Benny from Wildwood for me (no side of Banana Bread french toast either).

there's no green grass by picturesque lakes to sit on today, either; no snow-capped peaks to surround me; no fresh pow to shred; no bears to thrill/scare the bejeezhus out of me.

oh Canada, I miss your face. the shitty bits of Canada have fallen away to the sands of time, and all I really remember now are the friends, the good times, the all-consuming sense of possibility and non-sensical lack of responsibility and need for decisive behaviours. floating through 3 years of living out amongst the seasons, knucking down for the freezing cold or the hard-to-come-by sunburn, adapting to the weeks on end of rain, the overnight 30cm messing up the bus route but answering your prayers when you awoke to the sound of avi bombs exploding.

I miss the downtimes in the village between seasons, where you get to spend time getting to know the long-termers who have made their lives in Whistler and are not just passing through. I miss the peak season for the parties and the nightclub dancefloor (but no, not the lift lines or the queue out the door of lift coffee co. for a hot beverage).

I miss my friends; my Whistler family. I miss you all so much, and am lucky to have a few of you who followed me back to Armidale (because I got here first). I miss all the food we ate and the ski days we smashed and the apres we soaked up. happiness, plain and simple.

next year I'm going to visit Whistler, Canada, and I'm going to love it all over.

until then - Happy Canada Day.

photo: going to a party

photo: monday 27

My newest tattoo. Two headed monster. Love this little guy.

photo: thursday 23

Working and showcasing my tattoo at the same time. Multitasker.

photo: wednesday 22

Wednesdays are the days I go to the gym and spend the rest of the day with crazy hair. And black eyes.

photo challenge: all of the helens

ugh, I just hate pictures of myself. I have been trying to grow out of this feeling for years, but I really don't like pictures that I'm in. So I'm going to take pictures of myself each day for the next 2 weeks and put them up on the blog. into the blogosphere. onto the internets.

so sorry in advance for the selfies.

it's selfie-development, ya know?

Slightly cross-eyed is my style.

treasure: new sheets

I've been quiet this week- because I've been packing to move house.

I have a new bed, new sheets and a new room- a place where only I have been, a fresh start. 

It's pretty exciting. 

treasures: some pieces of my heart (found tucked away on my iPhone)

Sunset on the West Coast of Canada (Vancouver) on a trip with Kate J to pick up Cam all ready for winter 2011-2012

These guys... Stu and Hugh on our impromptu bar crawl on the way home.

Some favourites, all rosy-cheeked from dropping the Harmony Horseshoes

The movie of the 2011-2012 season: Step Brothers.

Fun and games on the SNES - Mika, Annica, Phill and Karin cosying up my living room at Bayshores

That time I sunk his battleships

Nothing classier than drinking out of buckets at a GLC silent disco...

#fmsphotoadaynovember 9. small

 

many of the pictures i put on instagram are of drinks. i think photos of drinks are artistic and basically, they're where it's at.

this was a small (#small) cider that hugh poured me at red brick hotel in brisbane. we went there for a hiphop festival, having first the happy opportunity to see friends from whistler who have since moved back to spots all over australia. we drank some things, we ate some things, we caught up. it was quite a nice time.

i guess though, this photo really reminds me of that feeling of excitement you get right before you see good friends you haven't caught up with in a long time, or even just a while. because i'm a little bit uncool this way, i tend to be at places bang on or before the time we'd organised to meet. that night, for instance, i do believe we arrived at 6:28 for a 6:30 meeting. the boys, however, being boys, dragged their pants on and mosey'd on down by maybe 7:15. all of the them separately texted me to ask if it was ok for them to wear thongs to this particular establishment.

my relative earliness meant i got to sip on the above cider, while building up quite the bubble of reunion-based excitement. and i was not disappointed. everyone was happy to see each other, and soon we were all filled full of drinks and pub meals, telling tales of things much more expressively than they actually happened. hugh was there to take away our empty plates and fill up our glasses.

it was a nice time.

#fmsphotoadaynovember 5. 5 o'clock

this is boolominbah. it is an old building. it used to be a private residence, but since then it has been a functioning part of the university where i currently work, UNE. it is divided up into offices and special rooms for meetings, and a place to eat (that is varying degrees of tasty), and to get coffee.

i've been reading stories about it which have come across my path while working on a project, and the one that keeps striking me is that most of the university, in its first incarnation as New England University College (from 1938 to 1954 in fact), fitted into this one building. Granted, it is a big building, but students lived, ate, studied and hung out here. How did they all fit in??

Another element that interests me is its life as a private residence. i imagine servants and dressing up for dinner and etiquette in manner of Downton Abbey.

these are just some of the things i think about as i walk past this building every afternoon at 5 o'clock. one day i might make jennifer take me on a heritage tour. then i would definitely have more to share.

#fmsphotoadaynovember 3. breakfast

i don't have so much to say about this one, except to note that the perfect breakfast has many different elements to it. in my humble opinion the most important element, the part that ties everything together, is a soft to medium poached egg. you cut it open and watch the yolk ooze everywhere. then you mop it up with toast, or bacon, or mushrooms.

this photograph is of my birthday breakfast this year, in gloucester NSW, on the way back from seeing Mumford & Sons (amongst many talented others) at their Gentlemen of the Road Stopover show in Dungog.

I woke up, and my lovely was laying there next to me, and the weather had cooled off, and then we got coffee, and then we drove to gloucester for breakfast. and it was nice.